Shift Three:

Holly was late. Andy Fredricks, taking things in his stride, said to Chet, "I know I'm nowhere near as cute as Holly Ramsey, but you'll just have to suffer and put up with me until she gets here. Cap," he remarked to Hank, "Station 16 had a structure fire at six o'clock this morning, and they notified Dispatch about ten minutes ago that they'd be returning to quarters in an hour. So, Holly should be here by about nine o'clock. I certainly don't mind – I can't leave, anyway, until Katya picks me up. Holly and I already agreed that each hour I cover for her equals an hour of her mowing the lawn or weeding the garden at my house. So, tomorrow I'm paroled from yard work – couldn't have been better! It's a pretty fair trade-off, all things considered."

Hank paused thoughtfully and replied, "I wonder if she'd like to do some yard work for me, too?"

Andy shook his head. "No way, Captain – see, she really hates mowing the lawn! That's what will get her here as fast as possible."

"That's a good incentive, all right."

-E!-

At ten after nine, Holly and Katya arrived at Station 51. They got slowly out of Holly's car. Her voice drifted across the parking lot to the men from the 'A' shift. "Katya, you've got to let it go. There was nothing we could have done for them. They were already dead before we got through to them."

Katya replied glumly, "My head knows that, Holly, but in here," she tapped her chest, "I keep thinking we should have been able to save them."

Holly gave her a quick hug and said, "I know, Babe – look I've got to get back to work here, but I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

Katya tried to smile, and replied, "Give me a call after this shift is over – we can always postpone if you're not feeling up to it."

Holly replied, "I'll let you know." She reported to Captain Stanley, "Sorry I'm late, Cap – we got here as quick as we could."

Hank took one look at her sweaty, sooty face and clothes and said, "Take a few minutes to wash up and change." He paused delicately. "Rough one?"

She nodded, her expression one of misery. She gnawed at her trembling lower lip. "Rooming house fire. Three small children... died... before we could get to them. Sorry, I really don't want to talk about it right now – maybe later?" she pleaded, her eyes cast downward.

Hank said, "Sure. Whenever you want to talk, my door is always open."

"Thanks, Cap. I'll just go change now. Andy," she said, "Katya's really broken up about this – there was nothing we could do, but... she still feels really crappy."

Andy replied, "Thanks, Holly – I'll do what I can with her. Has she been able to cry, yet?" he asked in concern.

Holly shook her head. "Not yet, but she's on the verge. It shouldn't be long," she answered somberly.

"Okay, Holly – I know what to do from here. Take it easy, huh?" he said in parting.

Her voice trembled as she replied, "Don't I always?" She stopped in front of Chet, on her way into the building. "Sorry, Chet, I don't really feel like playing today. Maybe next shift?" she said wearily, her head drooping.

Chet gently put his hand under her chin and lifted it, raising her eyes to meet his. "We'll play later – the Phantom does have a proper sense of timing, after all." He paused. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She smiled sorrowfully; unshed tears glittered in her eyes. "I will be – I just have to put this one behind me. You know how it is w-when kids are involved."

"Well, when you want to talk about it, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Chet. I really appreciate that. I'll shake this mood in a while," she said.

"I know, I'm just a real sweet guy," Chet added, smirking outrageously.

She gave him a weak smile. "I don't know that I'd go quite that far, Chet, but thanks all the same."

-E!-

"Station 127, Engine 60, Station 51: Warehouse fire, 2002 Baker. Two-thousand-two Baker, cross street Drake. Time out, 15:32."

"Station 51, 10-4, KMG 365," replied Hank.

As they settled in the jump seats of the engine, Chet leaned over and asked Holly, "Hey, you want to be lead man on the hose this time?"

She shrugged and said, "Sure, why not? Do you think you can keep up with me, or should I slow down and wait?"

Chet looked startled. "Why, Holly, I do believe you're turning back into your old self. More's the pity..."

She snapped back, jokingly, "And just what the hell do you mean by that comment?"

Hank turned around, fixed them both with a stern glare, and said, "Children, play nice!"

Holly answered meekly, "Yes, Daddy," before she turned and stuck her tongue out at Chet.

Chet smirked, then whined, "Daddy, Daddy, she spit in my milk!"

Hank looked at Mike and said, "Do you think we can toss them out on the way to the fire?"

Mike replied, "If we do that, who's going to man the hoses? I think we'd better keep them."

Hank affected a long-suffering sigh. "I guess we don't have much choice, do we? Maybe we can teach Henry to work a hose..."

-E!-

By the time they arrived, Captain Oliver from Station 127 had deployed the crews from 127 and 60. Hank jumped out of the cab and went over to get 51's assignment. He talked to Captain Oliver, nodded and headed back to Engine 51. He pulled out his handie-talkie on the way and said, "Gage, DeSoto, take a two-inch to the west side of the first floor; Kelly, Ramsey, another two-inch to the east side of the first floor."

They waved acknowledgment. Chet bowed mockingly for Holly to grab the nozzle. She smiled, grabbed the hose and headed to the entrance of the warehouse at a run, Chet close at her heels. Roy and Johnny exchanged an amused glance as they, too, grabbed their hose and entered the warehouse.

Chet and Holly wended their way through the thick, blinding smoke on the first floor. "Can you see anything?" Chet asked, his question muffled by his SCBA.

"Nothing yet. There's a hell of a lot of smoke, and I think it's coming from back there," she replied, pointing to the back of the warehouse floor.

Chet gestured for her to head in that direction. "Lead on, MacDuff," he said lightly.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and replied, "You got it, Kimosabe."

Her mood changed abruptly when they reached the back of the warehouse. She started cursing, "SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!"

Chet tapped her shoulder. "What's up?" he asked anxiously.

She made a stabbing gesture toward a number of barrels next to the wall. "Look, Chet! Red phosphorus! If the fire gets to them, we're in real trouble. Call it in to the Captain, while I start hosing these puppies down."

As Chet pulled out his handie-talkie to report the chemicals, he didn't observe the look of sheer horror that was fixed on Holly's face as she aggressively hosed down the barrels. All of a sudden, one of the barrels furthest from them exploded. The force of the blast knocked them both to the floor.

"Goddamn, son-of-a-bitch, shit!" shouted Holly, stumbling to her feet. "Are you okay, Chet?" she asked urgently.

He shook his head as if to clear it, then replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Get the hose on those barrels while I call this in." He fumbled for the handie-talkie. "Engine 51 from HT 51."

Captain Stanley's reply was immediate. "Kelly, are you and Ramsey all right? What happened?"

"Cap, we've got some barrels of red phosphorus in here, and one of them exploded. We're hosing them down, but we still haven't found the source of the fire. It's pretty hot near these barrels, though," replied Chet. "The fire must be just on the other side from us."

Captain Oliver's voice cut in on the transmission, "All personnel! Evacuate immediately! We have hazardous materials on site! All teams acknowledge!"

"Holly! We're leaving!" shouted Chet. When she didn't answer, but kept the hose trained on the barrels as if she were in a trance, he grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her away from the barrels. "Holly!"

She glared at him angrily. "What the hell do you think you're doing? We've got to wet down the barrels!"

"NO! We have to get out of here, now!" Chet insisted, grabbing the hose from her. "We're evacuating the building!"

Her eyes widened; she nodded and said, "Okay. Let's go."

Chet took out the handie-talkie. "Engine 127, this is HT 51. On the way..." his words were cut off as another barrel exploded, knocking them to the ground.

"Chet!" shouted Holly. "CHET! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Holly," he answered, rising to his feet. "I'm just peachy keen! How 'bout you?"

"I think I'll survive." She struggled to her feet, then stumbled. "Dammit!" she said, sagging against a pillar. She looked down at her leg, paling slightly as she saw the long, jagged shard of metal that had embedded itself in her shin. Her eyes widened as she looked at Chet, then she grabbed the hose from his hands and trained the stream on Chet. "Turn around, Chet!" she urged.

"Holly, what the hell are you doing? We've got to get out of here, and you've got to have Roy and Johnny look at that leg of yours!" Chet said.

"Not until we get that fucking phosphorus off you! Stand still, Chet," she ordered firmly, hosing him off.

"Holly, are you crazy?!" he shouted. "What about your leg?!"

She kept the hose trained on Chet, trying to wash away every trace of the phosphorus that had been blown onto his back by the last explosion. "The leg can wait," she answered grimly, though she was obviously in pain. "I'm not letting you get burned by that fucking stuff! That shouldn't happen to anyone!" Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Anyone else, that is – believe me, I know what it's like," she muttered.

"Holly, it's gone," said Chet.

Mechanically, she kept hosing him down, her eyes wide and staring.

"Holly!" Chet repeated.

She still gave no sign of having heard him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "HOLLY! It's okay. The phosphorus is gone." He looked into her eyes and was alarmed by the terror he saw there. "Let's get out of here, okay?" he said, more gently.

She nodded wordlessly, the adrenaline surge over.

Chet asked, "Are you okay to walk? I could carry you if you'd like."

"I'm okay," she answered numbly. "I can walk." She stumbled forward like a robot, then hissed sharply as the shard of metal was jarred against a piece of rubble. She grimaced in pain, hunched over and gasping for breath.

Chet said, "Enough of this – you're going for a ride." He scooped her up in his arms, and he hurried to the entrance. On the way outside, he pulled out his HT. "This is HT 51. We have a Code I. We're just exiting the main building now."

"Engine 127, 10-4 HT 51. Squad 51, did you copy?" said Captain Oliver.

Roy answered, "Squad 51, 10-4. On the way." He and Johnny handed their hose off to a couple of firefighters from Engine 60 and headed to the squad to get their equipment. Roy grabbed the trauma box and biophone. Johnny ran toward the entrance and shouted, "Chet! Bring her over here to the squad!"

Chet carefully lowered Holly to her feet once they had reached the squad, then helped her sit on the bumper. He was careful to make sure that nothing touched the piece of metal in her leg. She clutched the front of his turnouts. "Chet, are you sure all that stuff is off you?" she demanded.

He gently unpried her fingers and said soothingly, "Yes, Holly, it's gone. Take it easy, okay? Let Johnny and Roy take a look at your leg, now."

Holly heaved a weary sigh and muttered, "All right, on one condition."

Chet shot her a quizzical look. "Name it."

She insisted, "Promise me that you'll get under a decontamination shower RIGHT NOW! Please, Chet, it's really important."

He nodded slowly and said, "You got it, MacDuff. Now let these two take care of you."

She slumped against the squad, obviously more relaxed. While Roy took her vital signs, Johnny got out his scissors and started cutting the bottom of her pants to expose the wound. "What happened, Chet?" he asked.

"We got in there, couldn't really see anything at the front of the room, 'cause of the smoke, and we went to the back of the warehouse. Then Holly, uh,...'pointed out'... that there were barrels of red phosphorus, so we started hosing them down. Then a couple of them exploded, and Holly was hit with a piece of metal..."

Holly interrupted, "And Chet got hit with some of the phosphorus, so he'd better get decontaminated, right?"

Chet replied, "All right, all right! I'm going. You two take care of my partner, okay?" He headed to the decontamination area.

Johnny had finished cutting through Holly's uniform, only to discover she was still wearing the cotton leggings underneath. "Holly," he joked, "This is no time for a 'fashion statement'." He started cutting the leggings too.

"Well," she confessed sheepishly, "They're actually a bit more than a fashion statement. They help protect my legs from the uniform pants."

As Johnny finished exposing the wound, he saw the layers of scar tissue that completely covered her lower leg and he understood what she meant. He looked at her in compassion. "Holly...," he began.

She growled, "John Roderick Gage, don't you dare pity me! I'm alive and healthy, and everything more or less works. So what if my legs are scarred? It doesn't make me any less of a person. I don't want, or need, any pity. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, smiling crookedly.

She relaxed and replied, "Sorry. Overdeveloped defense mechanism, I guess. Look, can't you just pull the damned thing out and slap a bandage on it so I can get back to work?"

Johnny shook his head, and said emphatically, "No way. We can't tell what the damage is like under the skin - that piece of metal may be acting like a tourniquet for a severed blood vessel. We'll stabilize it, and transport you to the hospital, where they can remove it safely. Are you feeling dizzy or nauseated at all?"

"Not really," she answered, twisting to try to get a look at the metal shard. "Just a bit lightheaded."

"Holly, don't do that," advised Johnny. "You'll make it move around. Let me get some dressings around it to hold it in place. Then you can start peering at it. Now hold still."

Roy finished writing down Holly's vital signs and set up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

"Squad 51, this is Rampart. Go ahead."

"Rampart, we have a female, age 27, with a five-inch shard of metal embedded in her right shin, next to the bone. There is little apparent bleeding. Pulse is 90, respiration 18, blood pressure is 108 over 70. Patient is pale, cool and diaphoretic."

"51, start an IV with Lactate of Ringer's, TKO, and immobilize the object."

"10-4, Rampart." Roy prepared the IV. He noticed that Holly had paled even further, and that she winced involuntarily each time Johnny touched her leg as he immobilized the metal shard. He felt her pulse, frowned, and took another blood pressure reading.

"Sorry, Holly," said Johnny. "Nearly done. How are you doing?"

She drew in a shuddering breath. "I've been better. I guess the adrenaline is wearing off." She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. "I'm starting to feel a bit dizzy."

Roy grabbed the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. Patient is in considerable pain, and is now complaining of dizziness. Pulse is now 110, BP is 80 over 40, respirations are 18."

"51, are there any other injuries?"

"That's negative, Rampart. We have not yet started the IV," Roy reported, pretty sure that the dose of medication would be altered.

"51, go with a 500 cc bolus of Ringer's Lactate, then take another set of vitals. If the BP is above 90, administer 5 mg MS, IV. Continue to monitor and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart. 500 cc bolus of Ringer's, then 5 mg MS, IV if the pressure is over 90." Roy administered the Ringer's, and Johnny took a third set of vital signs after he'd finished immobilizing the embedded shard.

"Roy, pulse is still 110, respiration is now 24, blood pressure is 96 over 60."

Roy nodded, and injected the morphine. "How are you feeling, Holly?"

She smiled ruefully. "Kind of stupid, I guess. How's the fire?"

Johnny flashed her a crooked grin. "It seems to be doing just fine without us. Look, we're going to just lie you down on your left side on the stretcher. Don't help, just let us do the work, okay?" he beckoned to the ambulance crew, who brought over the stretcher.

"How's Chet?" Holly asked drowsily.

Johnny glanced over and laughed. "He's very, very wet right now. Seems that the crew from Engine 60 are taking turns on hosing him down. They look like they're having a lot of fun with it, too."

"Good," she murmured, wincing as she was lifted onto the stretcher. "Serves him right! I know from first-hand experience just how nasty phosphorus can be."

"Is that what happened to your legs?" asked Johnny.

She shuddered, then nodded. "Yeah. I was doing some stunt work for a film, and the car I was in crashed into a pyrotechnic setup. Enough fun being caught in a car on fire, without adding burning phosphorus to the whole game plan. I, uh, don't like to talk about it."

As they put her in the ambulance, Roy asked, "Is that why you got into firefighting?"

She nodded slightly, saying, "That's certainly one of the reasons. I'll see you later. Hopefully, they'll spring me after I get some stitches."

On the way to the hospital, Johnny took another set of vital signs. He scowled as he jotted them down. "Holly," he said, "Don't get your hopes up about making it back to the station today. I think they're going to want to hang on to you at Rampart for a while."

"Hmm?" she murmured, almost completely unresponsive.

"Holly?" asked Johnny. "Don't fade out on me." He picked up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51."

"Go ahead, 51."

"Rampart, patient's latest vital signs: pulse is 100, respiration is 22 and shallow, blood pressure is now 84 over 56. Patient is semi-conscious at this time. Our ETA is about three minutes."

"10-4, 51."

-E!-