Chapter 2
The sun cast its first rays of light into Marco's bedroom, rousing him from a deep and peaceful slumber. Without opening his eyes, he snuggled Beverly a little closer, appreciating the way their bodies seemed to fit together like two spoons.
"Mmm," she moaned, enjoying the safety and comfort of his strong arms. She peeked down at the ring on her left hand and smiled. It was physical proof that someone loved her. "I can't wait to do this every morning."
Without missing a beat, Marco's gruff voice responded. "And I can't wait for a repeat performance of last night." He felt her begin to shift her position, so he rolled from his side onto his back, pulling her with him.
Beverly laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the sounds of his breathing and heartbeat. "Thank you for showing me how wonderful love can be," she said, running her fingers through the hair on his chest, tilting her engagement ring so that it sparkled in the sunlight.
He kissed her lightly on the top of her mussed up hair, grateful that she seemed to be feeling stronger. Obviously, her anemia was improving, and the wounds sustained in her fall were healing well. There was still some discoloration along her forehead and a bandage remained covering the cut on her left wrist. However, her health issues certainly hadn't seemed to hinder the romance they had enjoyed the previous night. "I've got a lot more to show you," he growled playfully.
"I'm sure you do," she laughed. "But it'll have to wait until you get off shift. I don't want you to be late, and I need to run home and get ready for a group session at the Wellhouse."
As she sat up in bed, Marco watched her for any unusual signs of fatigue or pain. Seeing none, he decided to question her a little further to confirm that she was okay. "Baby… Are you sure you're ready to go back to work?"
"Yes," she began, appreciating his concern. Too many times her pimp had pushed her to work the streets when she should have been hospitalized. Now, the man she loved was so concerned about her, that he really wanted her to spend more time recovering than was actually necessary. "Like I've told you before… This," she said, pointing at the faint bruise on her forehead, "is nothing. I've worked much harder when I was in much worse shape."
Marco stood in front of her, admiring both her dedication and her determination. "But no one is forcing you to go to work today. I just want to know that you're okay."
She smiled lovingly at her fiancé. "I promise… I'll be fine."
As Marco set about his morning routine, Beverly sat quietly on the edge of the bed, admiring the sparkle on her left hand. As soon as he had finished his quick shower and brushed his teeth, he returned to packing his duffel bag. He watched her for a moment, seeing how lost in thought she seemed to be.
"Penny for your thoughts," he commented.
Beverly giggled at him. "I'm still shocked that this all happened so soon after… you know…"
Now it was Marco's turn to laugh a little. "Well, I wanted it to be a surprise, and I figured you wouldn't be expecting it this soon, so… Are you sure you like it?" he asked, knowing how she would respond.
"Are you kidding me? I love it. I've never seen anything so stunning in my life and… to think that it's on my finger… given to me by you…" She felt her eyes growing misty. Being engaged to such a loving man was going to take some getting used to.
"My Mama is certainly excited. She really loves you, Bev."
"I really love her too… all your family," she said, getting out of bed and reaching for the clothing she had hastily discarded the previous night.
Marco reached for his uniform shirt. "Did you see how much Mama cried when we showed her the ring? And she already knew about it!"
Beverly smiled wistfully, pulling her blouse over her head, carefully avoiding the tender area on her forehead. She loved her future mother-in-law more than she had ever loved her own mother, but it wasn't Maria Lopez' reaction that had surprised her the most. As if reading her mind, Marco spoke up.
"Did Lexi seem alright to you?" he asked, shoving an extra pair of socks into his bag before zipping it up. When he looked over at Beverly, he saw her slipping her shoes on. He waited for her to answer his question.
When Beverly looked up, she saw the worried look on Marco's face, and she knew that he had sensed the discord, too. She used her fingers to comb her hair out of her face, choosing her words very carefully.
"Well… I wasn't going to say anything, but… I think she'd been crying."
Marco grimaced beneath his bushy mustache. "I was hoping she was at home because she was waiting for us to come by to make our announcement, but I did think it was strange that Mike wasn't there. They've been spending most of his off time together." Marco used his fingers to stroke his mustache as he pondered his sister's appearance the night before. "I guess her eyes were a little red, weren't they?"
Beverly stood up, walking over to stand behind him as he gave himself one last look into the mirror. "Men really don't notice the little things, do you?"
Marco turned around, opening his arms and pulling her tightly against his chest, his own body reacting quickly to her closeness. "Such as…?"
"Yes, her eyes were a little red, but her eye make-up was almost completely washed off. And the biggest thing I noticed was that when I showed her my ring, she tried to smile and act happy, but her eyes were dark."
Marco gave a short sarcastic huff. "She's a Lopez; her eyes have always been dark."
Beverly recognized his comment as a diversion tactic. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about the possibility of his sister being unhappy. "Not the color, Marco… the brightness that she's had for the last few weeks was… it wasn't there."
Marco inhaled deeply. "Something must've gone wrong between her and Mike."
"That would be my guess," Beverly agreed. She remembered their conversation the previous day when Marco had told her about the misunderstanding in the restaurant parking lot. "You said that they were sexually involved now, right?"
"Mmhmm."
Beverly pulled her head away from him, keeping her hands resting on his firm chest. "I think I may know what's going on."
"Well, please enlighten me because I'm about to spend the next 24 hours with Mike, and if he's as sullen as Lexi seemed to be last night, then it'll be a very long shift."
Beverly hesitated, looking away from his pleading dark eyes. "Sort of the same thing that happened to me… to us."
"No… It's too soon to be a pregnancy scare. Besides, he definitely used a condom so…," he said, reaching for his duffel bag, not wanting to think about Mike and his sister in bed. "It's got to be something else."
Beverly stepped away from him, not wanting to hinder him from continuing to prepare for work while they talked. "Not a fear of pregnancy… A fear of the intimacy afterwards… After the act. It's something we don't know how to handle."
Marco felt his breath hitch. Why hadn't he thought about that before? He removed his duffel bag from his shoulder and walked over to his fiancée. He lightly stroked her cheek, cupping her face with his hands as he lowered his lips to hers. "I'm sorry for everything that you've been through, and I want you to know that it'll never, ever happen again," he whispered before kissing her lightly on her rosy lips.
"Nothing for you to be sorry for, Marco. It's what's made me who I am and…," she kissed him again, with more passion. "And I know now that I never have to be concerned about that with you. I know you won't abandon me…" There was more she wanted to say, but when his hot mouth clamped down on hers, she became lost in the physical sensations.
Their kiss deepened, and neither one wanted it to end. Their bodies were crushed together tightly, and their hands began to roam over what was becoming familiar territory for them both. When the kiss finally ended, they both looked deeply into each other's eyes.
"I'll try to talk to her today," Beverly said.
"And I'll see what Mike has to say. Should I let him approach me first?"
Beverly shouldered her purse, reaching inside for her car keys. "You know him better than I do. That'll have to be your call."
"I know," he replied, following her out the door of his apartment. He thought about it as he walked her to her car. "I guess it could be something else that's going on with my sister so… I suppose I'll see what Mike has to say first."
E!
Mike wheeled into the parking lot behind Station 51, realizing that he couldn't remember the drive from his apartment. He pulled into a vacant spot beside Hank's car, shifting the gear of his pick-up into park. His night had been restless; and now he was beginning his shift exhausted. He briefly considered asking for a replacement, but decided that being miserable at home alone was worse than being exhausted at work. He had pulled many double shifts before; this would simply seem like another one of those.
He opened his truck door, catching a glimpse of burgundy pulling in on his passenger's side.
"Ugh… damn it."
The engineer reached for the handles of his duffel bag, quickly turning away from his senior lineman. He knew he would have to face Marco at some point, but he needed a cup of coffee to jumpstart his brain before he had a conversation with the brother of his girlfriend… or was she his ex-girlfriend?
"Good morning, Mike," Marco said, hoping his voice didn't betray his concern.
The taller man turned sideways to look at his shiftmate. "Hey, man," he said before resuming his long strides across the back parking lot.
Before either man spoke another word, the C-shift engineer came bolting out of the apparatus bay, a wide grin covering his face. He turned his head to the side, shouting over his shoulder. "STOKER'S HERE!"
Marco and Mike both knew what the shouting was about, and both offered the departing man a smile.
"Is it time?" Marco questioned, assuming he knew the answer.
"Yep; she jus' called. Her water broke. I'm gonna be a dad soon! WOOHOO!" he shouted as he jumped into his car, peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly missing the gold Porsche of Roy DeSoto as it came to a stop in his usual parking spot.
"I'd better go check in," Mike commented, thankful that he was already dressed in his uniform, and for the excuse to avoid talking to Marco for a little while longer.
Marco reached out with his right hand. "I'll put your bag in your locker," he offered.
"Thanks," the engineer replied, passing his bag off to Marco. "I appreciate it."
Just as Mike stepped into the shadows of the station, he was met by Captain Hookraider, the ornery C-shift leader.
"Stoker, mind takin' over a half-hour early so I won't have to take the engine out o' service? It seems my engineer has better things to do than haul around a bunch o' hose jockeys," he groused, but his unusual grin let Mike know how he really felt about the impending birth. Even a hard-nosed grouch like Hookraider had a soft spot in his heart for babies.
"No problem," the A-shift man responded, knowing he really didn't have a choice. Thinking quickly, he spoke up again. "If you need me to cover his next shift, I don't mind. I haven't been getting much OT lately. I was going to sign up with headquarters, anyway."
"That'd save me a hassle. Much obliged, Stoker," the gray-haired man replied, then turned walking back to the captain's office to finish completing the log books before handing the station over to Captain Stanley. "Hank's in the kitchen havin' some breakfast with the rest o' my crew. I'm sure there's a little left if you want to join 'em."
Roy, having settled down after the near collision with the exiting engineer, exited his vehicle and headed across the back parking lot. The grouchy supervisor offered the on-coming paramedic a silent nod as a greeting; seeing the knowing look on the younger man's face, he gave him a wry smile.
"Baby coming?" Roy asked, pausing for a confirmation before continuing towards the locker room.
"Yea…," Hookraider groused. "Kid's got damn good timin', huh? Waited 'til Stoker got here for shift change," the older man chuckled.
Inside the station, Mike flattened his palm against the kitchen door, but before he had pushed it open, the klaxons sounded. He rushed to pull on his helmet and turnout coat, then boarded the engine, albeit with a different crew. "Thank God for small miracles," he mumbled to himself as he stepped into the familiarity of Big Red – a place where he felt a sense of control, unlike his personal life.
Half an hour later, Hank Stanley stood in front of part of his crew, clipboard resting against his hip. He turned his watch over, noting that his junior lineman had exactly 52 seconds to line up, or face the wrath of a frustrated fire captain.
Suddenly, the locker room door bolted open. "I'm here," Chet called out, skittering to a stop at the end of the line-up, trying-but-failing to hide his smirk. When he looked at the others, he was mystified. "What…"
"Is there a problem, Kelly?" Hank asked, recognizing the look that often preceded a visit from the Phantom.
"Uh, no sir, Cap… But, uh… Where's Gage and Stoker?"
"Mike clocked in a little early, so he's on a run. Dwyer will be staying on for another 24 hours with us because John won't be joining us today; his parents are here, in LA, and he's visiting with them," Hank explained, fighting his own cheek muscles not to grin. The time Chet had spent rigging whatever prank he had planned was simply time wasted… and those extra couple of minutes resulted in his latrine assignment.
"Damn," the lineman mumbled, quickly clearing his throat and standing at attention. "Ahem, I mean… his parents… that's great. Really, that's far out!"
Marco contemplated waiting until his engineer returned to share his news, but he assumed that Lexi had shared his plans with Mike before they had their disagreement… if that's what it was. Therefore, he decided to go ahead and make his announcement. "Uh, Cap?"
"Yes?"
The Latino lineman couldn't stop the smile that lit up his tan face. "I'd like to make an announcement, please."
"Sure, Lopez, go ahead."
Marco suddenly felt nervous and rocked back on his heels, but his happiness could not be contained. His eyes lit up like a child seeing Santa Claus. "Um, fellas… She sad YES!"
E!
Mike stood sentinel beside the engine, having parked it at an angle near the alley to limit the victim's exposure to curious onlookers. He knew the area well and kept a watchful eye on all the street corners, checking for a specific type of loiter. If the victim was involved in the sordid business he suspected, then her trafficker was likely nearby. Hearing the shuffling of boots walking up beside him, he shifted his eyes to his current captain.
"This is strictly a medical call, but we'd better stick around to offer our medics a little protection," Hookraider announced, surveying the scene.
Mike pressed his lips into a thin line, understanding what the captain meant. This was a seedy section of the county, and if there were any drug addicts nearby, they might decide to attack the paramedics in search of narcotics.
"Why haven't the police gotten here, yet?" the engineer questioned.
The hardened fire captain scratched the back of his neck, dipping his chin to lower the volume of his voice. "Hell if I know. I guess they think it's jus' a bullshit run, too."
Mike lifted one eyebrow, feeling his hackles rising. "What do you mean?"
Hookraider nodded his head in the direction of the alley where his paramedics were working on their victim. He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard by a civilian. "Jus' another hooker; somebody beat the shit out of her."
Mike felt his blood begin to boil at the callousness in the older man's voice.
"You'd think they'd learn their lesson about doin' this kind o' work," the captain complained, seemingly exasperated by their victim.
Mike knew better than to say what was on his mind. He couldn't afford a reprimand in his personnel file, even though the recent accusations against him for arson had been proven to be false. He preferred to steer clear of the department brass. However, he had never been more tempted to punch a superior officer in his entire career. Victims were the reason for their work, not an interruption of it – even though the aging fire captain seemed to have a differing opinion.
"Well… We don't know her story, Cap… Um, is she going to be okay?" Mike asked, needing to turn the conversation away from the victim's means of supporting herself and onto her current condition.
"I dunno," Hookraider mumbled, turning away when he heard the sound of the police car screeching to a halt near them. "I'd better go fill the cops in on what we've got," he added as he walked away.
Mike exhaled his breath, grateful that the captain had left him alone. He glanced at his watch, wondering if Beverly would be at work today. He wanted to call her and let her know that she might have another victim in need of rescuing. First, he needed to know the condition of their patient. He stepped around to the opposite side of the engine just as the ambulance arrived on the scene.
Mike stood looking at their victim while she was being readied for transport. Her eyes were swollen; her lips were bruised and cut. There was a large bandage above her left eye, and her right arm was in a splint. Mike watched as Dwyer stood up, lifting the IV bag above the patient while the attendants secured her on the gurney. As soon as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Dwyer passed the IV bag and the biophone to his paramedic partner.
"I'll pick you up at Rampart," the C-shift paramedic announced before closing the doors and giving them the customary two slaps.
"How's she doing, Dwyer?" Mike asked, walking with the paramedic back to the rigs.
"She'll make it, but she'll be in the hospital for a while. Somebody really did a number on her."
"Prostitute, right?" Mike queried, cringing when he said the word that brought back so many memories of his time with Lexi when she was on the streets.
"Yeah… Maybe this'll be her wake-up call," Dwyer commented, stowing the equipment in the compartments of the squad.
"Yeah… Maybe," Mike responded, stepping over to the driver's side of the engine.
Returning the C-shift crew to the station, Mike backed the engine into the apparatus bay, and saw Captain Stanley exiting his office with his coffee cup dangling in the crook of his index finger. Mike stepped down from the engine, following his regular shift captain into the kitchen while the relieved men headed for the locker room.
"Hey, Cap? Mind if I use the phone in your office?" he asked, holding the kitchen door open with his hand.
Marco looked up, locking eyes with his engineer for a brief moment, disheartened when Mike quickly diverted his gaze. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that the phone call might be to Lexi.
"Sure, pal," Hank replied, pouring his second cup of coffee. "But give Roy a couple of minutes to sweep the floor in there, alright? Besides, shouldn't you congratulate Marco first?"
"Congratulations… What for?" the engineer asked.
Marco continued washing the breakfast dishes as he answered Mike's question. "I thought Lexi would've told you." He looked over at his friend, smiling. "Beverly said yes."
Mike managed to offer a congratulatory smile to Marco. "That's great man. I'm happy for you… How's she feeling?"
Marco gave his friend a warm smile, grateful that he was asking about Beverly. She really was being accepted as a member of the 51 family, as was evident by the way they had treated her during her rescue the previous week.
"Much better," he said, drying a few utensils before placing them in a drawer. "She went back to work today."
"Good, that's good," the engineer said, glad to have received the answer to the question he hadn't even asked. "Um… that run we just got back from… I really need to talk to Beverly about the victim," he said. "What's the number to the Wellhouse?"
Marco used the damp dishcloth to wipe off the counter top while he rattled off the number to his engineer. Obviously, the private phone call wasn't to Lexi after all - a fact that disappointed Marco.
Mike wrote down the number on a small pad, then poured himself a glass of orange juice while he waited for Roy to finish cleaning the private office. "What do you have for me to do, Cap?"
"Dorms," Hank replied, sipping his fresh coffee while he perused the headlines of the morning paper.
By the time Mike finished his juice, Roy walked by the open kitchen door. "All done, Cap."
"I'll be quick," Mike said, knowing his captain had plenty of work to do in his office.
Hank shifted his position in his chair as he turned the page, thankful for the quiet the klaxons were offering. "No rush, Mike. Take your time."
Mike hurried to the captain's office, hoping they wouldn't get a run for the next few minutes, at least long enough to talk to Beverly. He dialed the number, tapping his fingers on the desk as the ringing began. It was quickly answered on the second ring.
"Wellhouse," came the female voice.
"Yes, this is Firefighter Mike Stoker," he began, knowing he needed to identify himself if he wanted to be allowed to speak to anyone at the shelter. The staff was always on guard for predatory traffickers trying to lure the women away. "May I speak to Beverly Marsh, please?"
"Oh, Mike. Hi, it's Bri… Nice to hear your voice."
"Same here. How've you been?" the engineer questioned. He hadn't seen her in several weeks, but he knew that Mrs. Lopez and Lexi were anxiously awaiting her discharge from the safe house. Her room was ready and waiting for her at the Lopez residence.
"I'm doing good, thanks. I might be able to leave here in the next day or so. I'm so excited… but…"
"But nervous?" he asked, remembering his long talks with Lexi as she had gone through the transition from the Wellhouse back to her family home.
"Yea… kind of… But I'm really grateful that Mrs. Lopez is going to let me stay there until I can get back on my feet."
Mike smiled at the thought of Maria mothering and mentoring another young woman. The home of Mama Lopez was the perfect place for a wounded soul to heal. "She's looking forward to having you there… Lexi is too," he added, wondering if Lexi and Bri had spoken since Lexi had basically kicked Mike out of her life… at least, that was how it felt to him.
"Yea," Bri said, her voice bubbly. She sounded so different from the young woman who had testified at Mike's personnel hearing. "I'm going to talk to her about my moving in as soon as she gets here. Um… here's Beverly."
Mike could hear the switching of the phone from one person to another and the whispered sound of his name being spoken. He cringed, knowing that receiving a call from Station 51 that wasn't from Marco would be frightening to Beverly. Why hadn't he thought to tell Bri that this wasn't about Marco?
"Hello? Mike? Is everything okay?" Beverly asked, fighting with her emotions.
"Yes, nothing's wrong, Beverly. I didn't mean to alarm you. I just went on a run with C-shift and, uh, there's a young woman at Rampart right now who could really use your services," Mike quickly explained.
"Oh my… I'm about to start a group session. How long will she be there?"
Mike sighed, knowing that the young victim would not be given a medical release for a few days due to the extent of her injuries, but he also knew that women in her situation were prime candidates for elopement. "She's got injuries that will keep her there for a while… assuming that she doesn't leave against medical advice, but the injuries aren't life-threatening."
"Good… that's good… I mean, not good, but I'm glad that I can get to her before she's released. The only problem is that the Wellhouse is full right now," she stated, biting her lower lip. "Of course, Bri might be leaving soon, so that might actually work out… if your victim is ready to leave the life," she said, continuing to think out loud.
Mike smiled; he understood why Marco had fallen in love with Beverly. She had a heart the size of Texas. "Thank you, Beverly. I appreciate it. Um," he hesitated, wondering if he should mention his issues with Lexi. Deciding that he could at least send her a message, he spoke up. "Please tell Lexi hello for me and… and that I love her, okay?"
"I sure will… If you'll tell Marco that I love him."
"Deal," Mike snickered. "Thank you, Beverly… Oh, and I understand that you've added a certain sparkle to your left hand."
"Hahaha," she laughed, enjoying the jovial feeling that had surrounded her since she had accepted Marco's proposal. "Yes, it's beautiful. Marco did an amazing job choosing it."
The engineer grinned. "I think Marco did an amazing job choosing a wife."
"Thank you, Mike. Your support means a lot to both of us. I'll head over to Rampart as soon as I finish with the group session this morning."
"That's perfect. I'll call the emergency department and let the staff know that you'll be coming over. If the victim does try to leave before she's medically ready, maybe they can stall her long enough for you to get there," Mike commented.
"Sounds like a plan. Thanks again, Mike," she replied, then hung up the phone, returning to the women who needed her and preparing mentally for her next potential rescue.
Mike hung up the phone, perusing the bulletin board above the desk in search of the phone number to the emergency department of Rampart. As soon as he had relayed his message to Dixie, he stood up, hesitating for a moment, wondering what he would say to Marco… or what Marco might say to him. "Might as well get this over with," he grumbled to himself, walking out the door towards the kitchen. He needed a cup of coffee before he faced the impending conversation.
Mike entered the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Beverly said to tell you hello, and that she loves you," he said as he walked past Marco and quickly poured his hot java. With his mind focused on Marco, Mike sipped the coffee before it had cooled. "Owe, damn," he hissed.
Marco reached inside the freezer, withdrawing an ice tray and removing a couple of ice cubes. He wrapped them in a paper towel, dampening it slightly before handing it to Mike. "Here you go, hot lips," he chuckled.
"Gee, thanks," the perturbed engineer responded, rolling his eyes as he accepted the proffered burn relief.
Marco wanted to ask Mike if something had gone wrong with Lexi, but he didn't want to do that with their superior in the room. He tightened his jaw muscles and began looking through the cabinets for the ingredients he would need to make their noon meal while he contemplated how to broach the subject of his sister's depressed mood. Before he had a chance to speak, Mike tossed the ice pack into the trash and headed out the kitchen door. Marco's conversation would have to wait until later.
The crispness of the Autumn air made the semi-empty apparatus bay feel cooler than usual to Mike, who skillfully carried an armload of sheets while giving the returning squad a wide berth; knowing that the paramedics were probably sleep-deprived, but only one would be going home now. He waited for Dwyer to exit the vehicle.
"How's the girl?" the concerned engineer asked, basically ignoring the departing paramedic.
"Lucky… this time," the remaining paramedic responded, slamming the door closed. "She'll be staying at hotel Rampart for a couple of days, though. Gonna need surgery on her arm."
Mike felt a sense of relief as he used his shoulder to open the door to the dorm. At least Beverly would have a chance to offer the young woman the safety of the Wellhouse.
The tones chose that moment to drop, their volume preventing Dwyer's mumbled curse from being heard by the rest of the men. He was famished, having missed breakfast, and needed to replenish his energy for the second half of his double shift. When Sam Lanier's voice summoned only the engine, he silently thanked the fire house gods, and trudged towards the kitchen, nearly bumping into Marco as the lineman made his hasty exit in response to the klaxon.
The call was a relatively minor one - a small grass fire in an abandoned lot. There had been no structural damage and there appeared to be no foul play. Most fires of this nature were the result of careless smokers tossing cigarette butts out of their windows. An hour later, the engine crew had returned to the station and were busy with their chores.
Marco, his mind still focused on his sister's situation, removed the nearly filled garbage bag from the kitchen trashcan and carried it out the kitchen exit, depositing it into the outside garbage cans. As he turned to head back inside, he saw Johnny's dingy white Rover turning into the driveway. He closed the door, seeing his captain standing at the kitchen sink, pouring out the cold contents of his favorite coffee mug.
"Cap, I think John's here," the lineman announced.
Hank gently set the empty cup in the sink. "Well, let's go meet the Gages.
E!
As the women at the Wellhouse were busy chatting with each other as they waited for the group session to start, Beverly pulled Bri aside to discuss her future, privately. She closed the door of her office, gesturing for the younger woman to take a seat. She needed to know Bri's plans before she went to Rampart. The counselor knew that she couldn't offer a bed at the shelter unless she knew that one was about to become available, but she also didn't want to rush Bri back into the real world until the young woman was completely ready and the only person who knew when the time was right, was Bri.
"So… How are you feeling about everything?"
Bri having overheard enough of Beverly's conversation with Mike, responded enthusiastically. "I'm ready to leave here, Beverly; today if you need me to."
The older woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Ahem… I'm assuming Mike told you the purpose of his call?"
"No," Bri responded, dropping her gaze to her lap. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop; I promise."
"But you know that there might be someone else who needs a place to stay for a while; am I right?"
Bri nodded. "You've helped me so much, Beverly. You've given me the courage to stand on my own two feet, and you've helped me believe that I'm worth something in this world. I don't know who it is that might need my bed here, but I'm able to give it to her and move on. I'm ready to move in with Lexi and her mom."
Hearing Lexi's name reminded Beverly of her promise to Marco to try to find out what was going on with his young sister. She pressed her lips together tightly, wondering if maybe Bri might know the answer.
"Bri… Don't make this decision based on what someone else might need. You've got to put yourself first for a little while longer," Beverly commented, ensuring that Bri was making an informed decision before asking her about her friend.
"I know… but I really think that I'm ready… I just kind of needed a little push and… and I think this might be just what I needed to let me know that the time is right. This is right… I really believe that."
"You're an amazing young woman, Bri, and you have such a bright future ahead of you," Beverly responded, a wide grin adorning her face. "Um… speaking of amazing young women, how do you think Lexi's doing?"
"I dunno, good I guess. I haven't really talked to her much. She spends most of her time with Mike now. Why?"
Realizing that Bri knew nothing about Lexi's sudden mood change, Beverly decided to give her a brief explanation, knowing it would be followed by additional questions from the younger woman. "Well… Marco and I went by the Lopez home last night to make an… um, an announcement and she acted kind of… sullen."
Bri grinned knowingly. "An announcement?"
Beverly held up her left hand, her new ring glittering in the office light… and her future sister-in-law temporarily forgotten.
"Ahhh," Bri said sucking in her breath. She reached for Beverly's left hand, her eyes sparkling. "Wow… This is beautiful! I think YOUR future is looking bright, too."
"Yes, it just brightened up yesterday afternoon," the counselor replied with a girlish giggle. "Let's go to our group meeting, and I'll tell you girls all about it."
E!
Behind Station 51, Johnny pulled the Rover to a stop. "This is it," he announced, proudly. "The rigs are here, so the fellas aren't out on a run. You'll get to meet my friends."
"We're looking forward to it," Sharon said, opening the passenger's side door and stepping out. She pulled her seat forward, freeing her husband from the backseat of the two-door vehicle.
Roddy stretched his long limbs as he exited the Rover. He looked around at the hose tower and basketball goal, then finally surveyed the back of the building.
"This is much nicer than anything we've got back home," the older Gage stated.
Johnny stood with his parents, thinking about the impoverished infrastructure he had known as a child. "Yea," he mused. "LA County does have a much larger budget than what the public services have back on the reservation."
The dark-haired paramedic began walking excitedly towards the open rear bay door, when he saw a familiar figure walking towards him, his lanky frame casting a thin shadow across the parking lot as it moved towards Johnny.
"John! Good to see ya, Pal." Hank didn't wait for his medic to make introductions. "Hi I'm Hank Stanley, the captain of John's shift," he said, extending his hand to Roddy. "You must be Roderick Gage."
"Yes, but just call me Roddy," the other man commented with a smile, offering a firm handshake in return. "It's nice to meet you. Johnny has told us a lot of wonderful things about you."
Hank felt himself blush. "Well, thank you, Roddy, and I'll tell you that John is one of the finest paramedics in the entire county. You should be very proud of him."
"Oh, we are, Captain Stanley," Sharon spoke up. "I'm Sharon, by the way."
"It's a pleasure, ma'am," the fire captain replied. He was about to say more, but was interrupted by his senior medic.
"Welcome back, Junior," Roy said, patting his partner on the shoulder.
"Mom, Dad, this is Roy DeSoto," Johnny said, unable to contain his trademark grin.
Johnny noticed that Mike, Marco, and Dwyer were walking up behind Roy, and he quickly made the introductions. After a few moments of small talk, he glanced around in search of their missing man.
"Uh, Cap… Where's Chet?"
Hank rolled his eyes, jerking his head towards the latrine. "Doing what he does best," the captain chuckled.
"That's because he gets so much practice," Marco said with a snicker.
"Well deserved practice," Mike added.
"Okay, well, I guess we can start the tour there." Johnny escorted his parents towards the locker room as the other men returned to their chores.
"And I'll start a new pot of coffee," Hank responded, hoping for a chance to get to know Johnny's parents.
As Johnny approached the latrine door, he knocked on it while pushing it open just enough to stick his head inside. "Hey, Kelly… Are ya decent?"
"Oh, real funny, Gage," Chet announced as he flushed the toilet, unaware of the two guests who were walking into the room with his shiftmate. When he backed his way out of the stall, holding the toilet brush like a scepter, his pale Irish face burned crimson red.
"Oh, pardon me," he blanched. Seeing the physical similarities between the older man and Johnny, he immediately knew the identity of the couple. "Hey… You must be Johnny's parents," he said, extending his right hand.
Roddy knitted his eyebrows together, not wanting to shake the hand of the man who had just cleaned the station toilet.
Chet realized his faux pas and jerked his hand back. "Oh, uh, sorry," he said with a grimace, his cheeks flaming. He turned his back on the Gages, using his knee to push the rolling mop bucket in front of the shower stall, giving him access to the nearest sink. He wanted to wash his hands before they got another run, and he wanted to continue chatting with the parents of his favorite pigeon.
The lineman finished cleaning up, then cast a quick glance in the mirror while he dried his hands. Behind him, he saw a sight that sent his heart surging into his throat, blocking his next breath. His eyes widened in abject horror, sending his bushy eyebrows into hiding beneath the curly dark hair above his forehead. He opened his mouth to try to stop what was about to happen, but his voice became lodged in his throat. As if in slow motion, he watched as Johnny proudly reached for the door of his locker.
Johnny had been waiting patiently to show his father the poster that he had referenced during their talk on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. "I want you to see somethin', Dad," he said, reaching for the handle of his locker. "I told you that the bear had been protecting me ever since I came to work here," he reminded Roddy as he pulled open the door, stealthily leaning slightly to his left – a move that had become so habitual that he rarely even realized that he was doing it. The familiar echoing boing of a spring being released seemed to be amplified in the room.
"CHET, YOU JERK!"
The junior lineman spun around in shock, his knee bumping into the rolling mop bucket and sending it cruising towards the door. "Owe, sonofa… ugh!" he grumbled, somehow managing to halt the curse that was perched on his lips as he stumbled over the cleaning cart, the shower stall door preventing his fall.
Roy, who had been removing towels from the laundry facilities in the back of the bay, bolted into action at the sounds emanating from the locker room. The medic shoved his way into the latrine, the door crashing into the cart and pinballing it back towards the guilty lineman. The forward momentum of the cleaning cart, aided by the weight of the dirty water still in the bucket, slammed into the unsteady lineman. With one hand sliding down the newly cleaned shower stall door, Chet desperately reached out with the other hand in search of anything that might offer him an anchor. His flailing hand narrowly missed the nearest sink, but connected solidly with the mop bucket, tipping it over and leaving both the lineman and the floor completely drenched.
Inside the kitchen, Hank scrunched his eyes tightly when he heard the commotion followed by the all too familiar angry shout of his junior paramedic. He ran a palm down his face with a sigh as he pushed away from the kitchen table. Had his lineman really done the unthinkable in the presence of station guests?
The captain followed the rest of his crew as they ran behind the rigs, their boots making scuffing sounds as they headed towards the latrine. There, sprawled on the floor, doused in filthy water, was his lineman and standing in front of Johnny's locker with water-soaked bangs clinging to her forehead and rivulets streaking down her face, was Sharon Gage.
Roy quickly grabbed a clean towel, handing it to Mrs. Gage while Hank set about trying to apologize for the misdeeds of his lineman.
"Sharon, I'm so sorry," the fire captain began.
"It's not your fault, Cap," Johnny groused. "It's Kelly's. He… Argh!" the lanky paramedic yelped, turning and pointing an angry finger at his fallen nemesis, but inadvertently slipping in the puddle of water and landing face first against Chet's wet chest.
"Get off me, Johnny!"
Johnny groaned, trying to raise up onto his knees. "Why don't you go play on the freeway?" Johnny retorted as he clumsily shifted his weight off of the soggy Irishman, momentarily forgetting that his parents were present.
The stories Johnny had told Sharon and Roddy about Chet suddenly rushed forward in their minds, and they both burst into uncontrolled laughter.
"Oh, goodness," Sharon cried out, tears of laughter dampening her already moist face. She accepted the white towel from Roy, using it to pat herself dry. "Hank how on earth do you get these two," she continued, waving her towel-laden hand towards the bickering duo on the floor, "to put out fires when they spend so much time dousing each other?"
"Ma'am," Hank began, crossing his arms over his chest, still infuriated by the station antics of the Phantom. "It isn't easy, but despite this fine display of station foolery," he said, aiming his words and his glare at Chet. "I assure you that this crew is truly exceptional."
"Exceptionally clumsy," Dwyer mumbled, unable to stop the grin that adorned his lips.
Johnny pressed his lips together, turning his head to glare into Chet's guilty blue eyes. "You WILL pay for this, ya know."
Chet raised his shoulders up near his ears. "But Gage, it wasn't me… It was-"
"The Phantom, yea, yea… I know, I know. Save it, Kelly," Johnny groused. Then remembering the souvenir he had purchased in the airport on his way back to Los Angeles, the peeved paramedic raised one skinny finger and pointed it straight at the Irishman's chest. "Soon… Very soon… The Phantom's gonna get what's comin' to 'im."
"Chet, get this mess cleaned up," Hank ordered. "And take a shower yourself before we get a run." The fire captain extended his hand to help Johnny back on his feet. "John, I really am sorry this happened. Do you have any extra clothes here?"
"Yea… I'll change in a minute, and we'll be on our way."
"Why don't I finish showing your parents around while you clean up. There's no need to rush your visit just because of…" He hesitated, turning his face back towards the retreating form of his guilty man. "Of what that twit did. Why don't you all stay and have lunch with us?"
"Oh, we can't impose on you, Hank," Sharon blurted out, already liking the men her son worked with, even the one who had created the near-disaster.
"Oh, no ma'am; it's no imposition. Besides," he began, escorting the Gages out of the locker room, but making sure that his booming voice was heard by everyone present. "It's Chet's turn to do the dishes, so having a few more to wash won't be any problem at all… right, Kelly?" he called out over his shoulder.
Chet rolled his eyes, shaking his curly-haired head in defeat. He sighed, leaning heavily against the tile wall. He knew he was in big trouble; kitchen clean-up probably wouldn't be the last task added to his chore list for this shift. He just hoped a reprimand wouldn't be forthcoming, as well.
"No sir, Cap. Happy to do it," he called back, refusing to look in Johnny's direction.
Johnny stepped over to his locker to retrieve the extra clothing he kept there. His Cheshire cat grin softened the chiseled facial features his anger had firmly set in place earlier. Chet was going to get his punishment by their captain during this shift, but Johnny had an even bigger surprise in store for the Phantom. And with a little help from his friends, it would be even better than the fake eye test they had pulled on the unsuspecting lineman a few months ago.
