Vengeance and Understanding

By Ziggy

Dark is the road you wander

And as you stand there under

The starry sky

You feel sad inside…

"Confusion"

By Jeff Lynne

Part I

Calvin Adams pulled his car into the driveway of the house. He shut down the engine; however, he didn’t make an effort to get out. That day had been his last day as a temporary captain for Station 51. Hank Stanley had taken a couple of weeks off to spend time with his twelve-year-old twin daughters now that they had gotten out of school for the summer. Hank would be returning to work for the next shift. Cal knew Stanley’s crew was looking forward to having their familiar captain back at work. Though they never said anything out loud, he knew they respected Stanley very much.

Cal had been promoted to the rank of captain a couple of months ago. With no station in need of a permanent commanding officer, he had bounced from one station to the next, filling in for captains taking vacation or needing medical leave. In 51’s A-shift, he found the kind of crew he had dreamed of having under his command. Paramedics DeSoto and Gage were top-notch, graduating from the first couple of paramedic classes ever in LA County; Engineer Stoker was a man who really knew his stuff; Firefighters Kelly and Lopez were excellent and experienced. In short, a crew any captain would be proud to call his own, the kind of crew that made their captain look very good to the top brass. I wonder if Hank Stanley knows how lucky he is to have such a group of men under his command?

Cal sat and stared at the small house before him. It was his brother’s house; or rather it had been Jack’s house. Jack had been killed in an auto accident seven months ago, leaving behind a young wife. Cal had taken the news hard, for Jack had been his older sibling and the two brothers had been extremely close.

Cal found himself remembering that horrible night. He knew he would never forget hearing the news of Jack’s death. Kate had been devastated. She still grieved his loss. Police said Jack had been drunk and run a stop sign, crashing into another car.

A car was driven by Captain Hank Stanley.

Another reason for Cal to resent the man he’d subbed for the past couple of weeks. It mattered not to Cal that Jack had been the one at fault in the accident. Nor did it matter to him that Stanley’s wife had been in the passenger seat and had died instantly. Stanley had sustained lesser physical injuries, but major ones psychologically. Though it had been determined he was not at fault, survivor’s guilt had plagued the lanky, dark-haired captain of Station 51. Left with the care of twin daughters verging on teenhood had not made the transition to widower any easier.

Cal got out of his car and walked across the front lawn. For the past few months, he’d had but one goal in mind: vengeance on Hank Stanley for his overwhelming loss. How dare Stanley survive that accident while he and his sister-in-law suffered so much grief and pain?! Now he found himself with a second goal, as well: the man’s command. His lips curled into an unpleasant grin as he realized that he had the way to kill two birds with one stone. That’s one bird being taken out with two objectives in sight, he silently corrected himself.

The plan counted on his sister-in-law’s support; however, he knew there was no way she would be a willing participant. For that, Cal knew he would have to— fabricate—a few things about his fellow captain to get Kate to go along. And the temperamental condition Stanley had been in since his wife’s untimely demise would help cover much of the beginning of the plot until it was too late for anybody to do anything to help him. Cal chuckled. Yes, this could work perfectly.

He stepped onto the front porch and knocked on the door. A pretty woman of average height, with light brown hair and hazel eyes, opened it. Kate smiled at her brother-in-law. "Cal!" she greeted happily. She gave him a quick hug. "Come in!"

Kate led him into the living room. "What brings you, Cal? Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks, Kate." He picked up a framed photograph off the coffee table. It was picture of Jack and Kate. "I found out something about Jack’s accident today during my time at 51."

"Don’t, Cal," Kate pleaded softly, distress shining in her eyes. "Jack was drunk and ran a stop sign. End of story."

"It’s not the end of the story!" he amended a bit harshly. He set down the picture before moving next to her and dramatically taking her hand in his. "The accident wasn’t totally Jack’s fault!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The other driver had been drinking, too. He was just as guilty as Jack was, maybe more so! The police allowed any wrongdoing on his part to be slipped under the rug."

"Why would they do that?"

"To protect the other driver. I found out that the other driver was Hank Stanley, the captain I replaced these past couple of weeks at 51. One of his crew let it slip that Captain Stanley had had a couple drinks too many that night."

Kate’s brows knitted in confusion. "But, I don’t understand how he could get away with such a thing!"

"Because he’s a fire department captain. Everybody knows him. To them, Jack was nobody. They protected Stanley’s reputation." Cal paused, as if in thought, before continuing his charade. "I also got the feeling the past couple of weeks that Captain Stanley is a hard taskmaster. He’s not above pushing his men around to suit his own needs. He’s trying to impress the big brass and he doesn’t care if his crew gets hurt in the process. He makes his men stay in dangerous situations longer than they should, just to prove how tough they are."

"Doesn’t the fire department have people to watch out for these kinds of things? He should be reported if he’s putting his men into peril without reason!"

As Cal had hoped, Kate was horrified to hear his accusations. He hoped the information, coupled with the other lie about the accident, would hit his sister-in-law’s moral side. "Stanley has his men so terrified of him, they’re afraid to say anything. You know, they seemed almost relieved to have me the past couple of weeks instead of him."

"Isn’t there some way you could take over permanently?"

Cal had to fight to keep from smiling. He knew he’d won her over the moment she asked her question. "There could be," he began offhandedly, "but it requires getting Stanley out of the way first." Seeing he had her full attention, he continued, "That’s where you come in, Kate."

"Me?"

"Yeah, I have a way of getting my hand on a drug that will make Captain Stanley less tolerant of his crew than he is now."

"Where would you get such a thing?"

"I have a friend who works for a pharmaceutical company who owes me a favor. Unfortunately, it needs to be put into a hot liquid, like his coffee, and I have no way of doing that."

"But, won’t it hurt him?"

"Oh, no, not physically," Cal gushed. "He won’t even remember what he’s done and it’ll wear off by early afternoon, but it’ll make his crew realize what a tyrant they work for and contact headquarters. They won’t be able to find any traces of a drug, so headquarters will finally be forced to admit the man has a mental problem and get rid of him."

Kate shook her head. "Cal, I don’t think—"

"Kate, don’t do this for me. Think of Jack and how Captain Stanley ruined your life. The man was driving drunk and the fire department allowed him to get away with it! Think of his poor crew. Getting rid of Captain Stanley would be no big loss to anybody! We can’t let him get away with murder, can we? And that’s what Jack’s death was! Murder!"

Gazing into her brother-in-law’s sincere-seeming eyes, Kate nodded resolutely. Anger glinted in her own eyes. "Okay, Cal. I’ll do it! I’ll help you!"

"Good girl!" Cal gave her a hug. "We’ll talk about the details tomorrow." At her nod, he gave her a kiss good-bye and let himself out. After closing the door, he stood on the porch for a few moments. He grinned. Jack, your death will be avenged, and Station 51’s A-shift will be mine!

*~*~*~*~*

--Flight 365 to Chicago now boarding general seating.--

This is it. No more stalling, Hank Stanley thought as he stood. His twelve-year-old identical twin daughters, Darcy and Tracy, stood as well. Hank picked up the girls’ carry-on bags as they made their way to the gate. "You two be good for Grandma and Grandpa," he advised automatically as they paused to let the rest of the passengers give their tickets to the gate attendant.

"Aw, Dad, you say that every year," Tracy berated.

"And I mean it every year," he answered with a grin as the gate attendant asked for their tickets. The girls handed them over.

"Here," he held out the carry-on bags. Each girl took her own bag.

Darcy, the more open emotionally of the two, threw her arms around her father’s neck, forcing him to lean over to accept the embrace. "I’ll miss you, Dad! Are you sure we have to go?"

"Yeah, who’s going to take care of you while we’re gone?" Tracy asked on the end breath of Darcy’s question. The girls always did that; Hank had always blown it off to the two being twins.

"I’ll manage somehow, don’t you worry." He finished Darcy’s hug, then embraced his other daughter. As always, Tracy broke the contact after a few short seconds. She stepped back. The attendant returned the boarding passes to them.

"You mean, you’ll do like you do at the station: get the guys to clean the place for you!" Tracy grinned.

"Just make sure you have Marco do the cooking!" Darcy added.

"Are you saying dear old Dad can’t cook?" he retorted, then added, more seriously, "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You have a fun time. I’ll see you in a few weeks."

"Love you, Dad!" they chorused with farewell waves before disappearing through the gate to board the jet airliner.

"Love you, too," Hank murmured as he watched them disappear from view. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought, With their long, blonde hair and flashing blue eyes, they look more and more like their mother every day! They’re growing up so fast! Elly, this is the time they need you the most. What can I teach them about dressing up and dances? Who’s going to keep me from chasing away every boy that looks sideways at them? How do I protect them from the John Gages and Chet Kellys of the world?

Hank had seen his girls off on their annual visit to his in-laws every year. The last couple of years they’d gone on the plane alone, leaving the Stanleys a few weeks by themselves and all the fun and romance a couple could have without their kids being underfoot.

This year, however, Hank was delivering his daughters into the hands of the airline alone. The last seven months since his wife’s accidental death had been rough, but they had managed to make it through. It hadn’t been easy, but with the help of friends and his coworkers, the three had come through the ordeal, definitely with a stronger family bond.

At least, Hank thought so. Of course, Elly’s parents hadn’t helped Hank make the transition to widower any easier, blaming him for their only child’s death. It hadn’t helped that the fire captain had been, and still was, trying to cope with a strong case of survivor’s guilt. He had been the only one to survive the two-car accident that had claimed two lives.

Hank had agreed to let the girls take their annual visit to Chicago to see their well-off grandparents. Despite the problems he had with his in-laws, he couldn’t deny them the privilege to see their granddaughters. And the girls usually looked forward to the weeks of pampering and shopping and touring the lakeside city of Chicago. This year, however, they had seemed reluctant to leave him, but a little persuasion on Hank’s part finally got them to agree to the trip.

They want to watch over me. He smiled. Gotta love ‘em for that! They just want to be here for their old man. Hank left the terminal and strolled to the parking garage. It’s going to feel strange to walk into a totally empty house. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to cook for only one. Man, will I be glad to get back to work tomorrow! I should have thought about taking on some overtime while the girls are gone. I’ll have to see if anything comes up.

*~*~*~*~*

Hank woke. Listening, he lay in bed a few moments. He could hear a breeze blowing and the unmistakable patter of a soft rain falling on the leaves of the big tree right outside the open bedroom window. Normal sounds. Sounds he’d heard a thousand times before. Why did I wake up then? He wondered.

Then it hit him. It wasn’t the usual sounds that had woken him up but, rather, the lack of certain noises that had brought him out of slumber. Both twins could be restless sleepers; Hank had grown used to the creaking of bedsprings as they moved about in their sleep. That sound was now missing from the nighttime resonance he’d grown used to hearing in the house.

Hank swung out of the large bed. He wore boxers and a white undershirt, his standard sleeping-at-the-firehouse bedclothes that he had made a habit out of wearing at home as well. He padded barefoot across the carpeting to the hallway. Slowly, he walked to the door of his daughters’ bedroom. He slumped against the doorframe as he silently regarded the dark room and the empty beds. It hasn’t even been a full day and I miss them already!

The twins had called from Chicago shortly after dinnertime to let their father know they’d arrived safely. Hank had spoken a couple minutes with Alan Campbell. Ethel Campbell, who had never liked her firefighter son-in-law much to begin with and now hated him with a passion since the accident, had refused to speak with him. Elly’s father got along with Hank, even liked him, but never argued with his wife’s views.

Sighing, Hank returned to his own room. He sat down on the bed. He smiled slightly, remembering the first night he and Elly had spent in this house. It was shortly after they had gotten married. Though Mrs. Campbell had threatened to cut Elly off completely if she dared marry Hank, Elly’s father had given them the down payment on the house as a wedding gift, as long as nobody knew it had come from him.

Slowly, the smile melted from Hank’s face. He remembered the accident, too. All too well. He’d taken the shift off from work. He’d wanted to make the day special for his wife. After all, a couple’s fifteenth wedding anniversary came but once in a marriage. Being a Saturday, they’d spent the day with the girls. They’d gone picnicking at a wooded park. It had been Elly’s idea and Hank soon got the impression that the endeavor had been well-planned, especially when the twins "suddenly" decided they wanted to go off, on their own, to the other side of the recreation area. Spending a pleasant afternoon on a spread-out blanket cuddling and necking with his beautiful wife seemed like a wonderful idea to the fire captain. It certainly gave him an indication what kind of anniversary gift was in store for him later that night.

Joanne DeSoto had offered to watch the twins for the evening and overnight. For dinner, Hank’s crew had gifted them reservations at a very expensive and well-touted restaurant. The restaurant’s reputation was well earned: the service and the meal were excellent. The couple had lingered over dessert and drinks before heading home to celebrate further. It was those couple glasses of wine Hank had enjoyed during the course of the evening that would come back to haunt him; he would never know if it had been enough to affect his judgment and reflexes.

Hank had driven into intersection just blocks from the restaurant, an intersection with stop signs facing the other street. Tall hedging prevented a full view of the cross street itself, so they never knew what was happening until there came the blare of a car horn and the sickening crunch of metal as a car collided with the passenger side of their vehicle.

Hank Stanley’s world changed in an instant.

Coming out of unconsciousness, he could hear the distant wail of sirens. Every muscle in Hank’s body protested movement, no matter how slight; his left shoulder screamed with pain. He could feel the stickiness of blood on the left side of his head. Despite all this, his first, and only, thoughts were of his wife. He moved his head to the right and he knew. Without having to reach out and take a pulse or feel for a respiration, he knew she was dead. Her head was lying back against the car seat, but at an angle that suggested a broken neck. Her beautiful blond hair was in disarray, the bottom half of the blue dress that so matched her eyes was stained with her blood.

"Elly? Elly, honey?" he asked automatically. Hank reached out with his right arm, touched her face. It was cool to the touch. Code F, he thought briefly. Then it hit him like a slap to the face. This was no stranger like the ones he and his crew had pulled countless times from MVAs. This woman was his wife. His wife was gone. Elly was dead. Their daughters no longer had a mother. Tears flooded his brown eyes and started down his cheeks.

His dead wife filled his world at the moment. He didn’t see the wreckage of the other car; its front end buried in the passenger side door, causing injuries to Ellen Stanley that would have killed her eventually if the broken neck hadn’t done it first. He didn’t hear the engine or squad as they pulled up to the scene, didn’t hear the sirens fade out or the crew—his crew, commanded by Captain Tom Lombard, B-shift’s regular supervisor—getting out of the rescue vehicles to help.

He vaguely heard a surprised voice through the cotton-fuzziness that had invaded his mind. "Holy shit! Hank?!" It was Tom Lombard, looking in his car window. Then Roy DeSoto was opening his door, reaching in to access his captain’s condition. Hank could feel the paramedic gently touching his face, pulling it back so he was facing the windshield. "Keep your head straight, all right, Cap?" Then Roy was hollering for a C-collar and backboard over his shoulder. Standard procedure, the use of the items didn’t necessarily mean he had neck or back injuries. They were normal precautions.

"Elly, Roy. See to Elly," he insisted, his voice shaky, weak.

"Just take it easy, Cap. You’re going to be all right." Standard words. Words were spoken to calm the victim. Words were spoken evenly and in a detached tone of voice. Only Roy had to have seen Elly. Hank knew because there was an unusual quiver to the senior paramedic’s voice that the captain had never heard before. Roy had seen her and could tell she was dead.

"She’s dead, isn’t she, Roy?" Hank asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"You just worry about yourself, Cap." Roy didn’t meet his captain’s eyes. If Hank hadn’t already known about his wife’s demise, the lack of eye contact would have been the telling gesture.

"She’s dead," the captain muttered fretfully as Roy fitted the collar around his neck. "I killed her. I killed Elly."

"Take it easy, Cap, just take it easy."

The soothing words meant nothing to Hank. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He felt bandages going around his head, covering his hair and forehead, as Roy tended to the head wound. Then his left shoulder was immobilized for the trip to the hospital. Hank gritted his teeth against the pain as his crew expertly eased him onto the backboard as they pulled him the rest of the way from the wreckage of his wife’s Edsel before gently lowering him to the ground.

He closed his eyes as he heard John Gage making contact with Rampart General Hospital. He could hear the paramedic’s transmission. "Rampart, we have three victims from a traffic accident. Victim number one is a male, DOA. Victim number two is a female," there was a slight hesitation, then, "also DOA. Victim number three is a male, thirty-eight years of age—"

As Johnny rattled off his vitals and list of known injuries to the doctor at the other end of the transmission, Hank opened his eyes to find Tom kneeling beside him. His fellow captain was looking at him sympathetically. "I’m sorry, Hank." It was hardly SOP to tell the victim at the scene that a loved one was dead. Hank already knew his wife was gone and this Tom realized. Hank nodded his head slightly, as best the C-collar and backboard would allow, in acknowledgement to Tom’s remark.

Marco Lopez knelt down on his other side. Hank wasn’t aware that he had raised his right hand until Marco snagged it. The Latino firefighter’s eyes were filled with tears, but still he managed a half-hearted smile. "Cap."

"I killed her, Marco. I killed my Elly," Hank whispered hoarsely.

Marco shook his head. "No, Cap. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault."

Hank glanced at Roy, who was slaving away, getting vital signs and working to get him stabilized for the ambulance trip. Johnny approached with an IV. Tom left to help with cleanup and extradition of the dead. Marco started to stand, but Hank refused to let go of his hand. His grip tightened. Hank was afraid that if he released Marco’s hand, he would be letting go of his sanity as well.

"He won’t let go, John," Marco stated, his voice concerned.

Johnny smiled slightly. "Then stay. We need you more here than over there, anyway."

"Okay." Marco knelt back down, bringing his other hand into play so Hank’s shaky hand was enveloped in both of his. "I’ll be right here, Cap."

Hank lay still and closed his eyes as his paramedics worked on him. Not for a second did he release his hold on Marco’s hand. It was his lifeline to sanity. The firefighter was forced to go on the ambulance ride and follow his captain into the treatment room. It was only when Dixie McCall took the firefighter’s place did Hank finally let go of his crewman’s hand. As Marco backed slowly away, seemingly reluctant to leave, Hank met his gaze. In a voice raw with pain and emotion, he said, "Thanks, pal."

His eyes still filmed with tears, Marco nodded before he was forced out of his captain’s line of sight.

As the emergency doctors--Kel Brackett and Joe Early--patched him back together, all Hank could do was close his eyes and think of his precious Elly and how he would never hear her voice nor see her beautiful smile again. If it hadn’t been for Darcy and Tracy, he knew he would have given up right there and then…

His blood alcohol level had been well below the legal limit, so the police had absolved Hank of any fault in the accident. He would always wonder, however, that if he’d abstained from any alcohol that night maybe he could have prevented the accident. The thought would haunt him strongly during the first few weeks following the crash. He blamed himself for Elly’s death and fought to keep a grip on things.

Fortunately for Hank, he had the constant support of his friends, most of who were his colleagues--his brothers--from the fire department. Without their help, Hank had admitted, he wouldn’t have been able to make it through the first couple of months. It was the raising of his daughters and his time at work that kept him going now and he had thrown himself into both with the veracity of a hungry dog with a bone.

Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and index finger as he willed the depressing reflections to fade from his mind. Damn, but I never realized how quiet the house could be! He ran a weary hand through his dark hair. I don’t think I could stand this emptiness to be permanent. But if it would be the best thing for the girls, how can I not make it so?

It was only the knowledge that he would be going on-shift at the station in a few hours that finally forced him to lie back down and try to get some sleep. If Gage and Kelly were up to their old antics, it was going to be long twenty-four hours. He could use all the sleep he could muster.

*~*~*~*~*

It had been good to return to the routine at the stationhouse. Roll call, assigning duties, rolling out for various emergencies, even putting up with the minor arguments that ensued when personalities, particularly Johnny’s and Chet’s, clashed… it was nice to get back to it all. It felt right.

Hank remained fairly quiet at the station; he didn’t allow himself to get pulled into most conversations and didn’t venture an opinion unless specifically asked for one. His crew was aware that his daughters were out of town for their annual grandparents visit, the first since his wife had died. They basically wrote off his reluctance to participate to missing the twins and left him alone.

After supper, Hank disappeared from the day room. Expression thoughtful, Mike Stoker watched him go, noticing his superior didn’t head towards his office. The engineer got up a couple of minutes later and followed. A quick glance out the open back bay door and he spotted his captain near the hose rack, his left hand gripping the rack, his attention supposedly riveted on some of the hose left to dry.

It was the place the captain had often retreated, usually after dinner, since his wife’s death. Each member of the crew had, at one time or another, found Hank standing and staring at nothing as he mentally tangled with problems associated with grief and being a single parent. For the most part, the men of A-shift left him alone, unless he seemed particularly unsettled.

To Mike Stoker, this seemed like one of those nights.

Mike casually strolled out to the tall hose rack. "Hey, Cap," he greeted as he approached his superior.

Hank dropped his arm as he turned to regard his engineer. "Mike. What’s up?"

"I was wondering the same with you. Everything all right?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess."

"You miss ‘em already, don’t you?" It was more a statement than a question.

Hank knew Mike was talking about his daughters. "Yeah, yeah, I do. The house is so…" he fumbled for a moment "empty without them. I haven’t slept totally alone since before I was married. Well, except for the times Elly took the girls and visited her parents. But she came back to me, then," he finished softly, looking at the ground.

Silence fell between the friends for several moments. They could hear Johnny’s irate voice drifting out of the rec room. Just as Hank was going to make a comment about Chet picking on the paramedic, Mike’s soft voice interrupted.

"It’s more than just the girls being gone, isn’t it?"

Hank smiled slightly as he raised his head. "Never could keep much from you guys." He paused for a long moment; then sighed. "Elly’s parents want custody of the girls. Permanently. Ethel Campbell never liked the fact that Elly married a firefighter; she always thought Elly married beneath her when she could have had a lawyer instead. Literally. Elly had been dating a would-be attorney who was going to school in Chicago when we met. It took me several tries before she finally agreed to go out with me." He smiled at the memory. The smile was a fleeting thing. "Ethel always considered what I do too dangerous and my schedule too unusual to be a good thing. Now, she’s using these as excuses to convince me my daughters would be better off with them."

"You’re considering this?" Mike tried to hide his surprise. He knew his captain loved his daughters very much. That he would even think they would be better off with their grandparents was hard to swallow. Hank Stanley needed Darcy and Tracy in his life, now more than ever. But Mike didn’t voice his thoughts out loud.

"I guess I am. They make a good argument, Mike. One day out of three I’m not even there for them."

"Your neighbors? Are they having second thoughts about watching the girls when you work?"

"No, none. The Whitleys love having them over. It helps they have kids around that are near the same age. They’ve been really great helping out. It’s just… what kind of father can I be if I’m not even there?"

"You know, Cap, some fathers are home all the time, but they aren’t really there, if you know what I mean. You’re always there for your girls, even when you’re here. You took so many phone calls from them when you got back after the accident, it’s a good thing dispatch doesn’t contact us through the phone line."

Hank couldn’t help but chuckle. It had taken awhile until his daughters didn’t feel the urge to call him several times a day when he worked. The little problems they had used, as excuses to call had been just that: excuses. Hank knew they had needed to hear his voice, to reassure them that he was still there. His having a job that was more dangerous than most had made the first few months after Elly’s death particularly hard on Darcy and Tracy. His crew had taken those few weeks in good humor and understanding, something Hank had appreciated very much. "Yeah, it was interesting around here for awhile, wasn’t it?"

Hank sighed again. Getting back to the original conversation, he stated, "I can understand my in-laws’ reasons. They lost a daughter, now they want to feel more a part of their granddaughters’ lives."

"And you? What do you want, Cap?"

"I don’t want them to be two thousand miles away. I don’t want to relinquish the right to raise my daughters the way I see fit. I want them to be here, with me. But what I want isn’t relevant, Mike. What my girls need is much more important. They’re going to be teens in a month or so. They need a mother. I doubt I’ll be finding them one any time soon."

"Nor should you rush into a relationship for that reason alone," Mike stated. He paused a moment, then decided to speak what was on his mind. "Cap, they need their father, too. They don’t need to have a grandmother with high flatulent ideals finishing their trip into adulthood." The engineer hesitated when he caught the raised eyebrow given him by his superior. "I’m sorry to be so bold, Cap. I just don’t want to see you do something that’ll ultimately be detrimental to both you and your daughters. I can’t see Elly’s mother being able to handle them for longer than a month. Even you admit they can be a handful when they get their minds made up about something."

Hank was silent a moment. Mike wondered if he had said too much. It wasn’t his place to speak or his decision to make, but he knew his captain had to hear both sides of the argument. He would bet his life and his engine Hank wasn’t getting it listening to his in-laws’ side of things.

"You have valid points, Mike." Hank remarked at last.

"Aren’t Darce and Trace old enough to have an opinion of their own, too? Have you asked them what they want?"

"Yes, they are old enough for their own opinions and no, I haven’t said anything to them yet. I didn’t want this time they’ll be spending with their grandparents to be marred by them thinking Elly’s parents want to force them away from me. Though I have no doubt my in-laws will try to convince them to stay in Chicago."

"Do you think they could succeed?"

"I don’t know. The girls were always happy to get home. The visit was nice, but they wouldn’t want to live there, thank you very much. Besides, having lots of material things and life in the big city of Chicago wasn’t half as much fun to them as having a dozen plus firefighting ‘uncles.’" Hank paused. He rapped the hose rack with his fingers for a few seconds before heaving a long sigh. "With Elly gone and them getting older, however, they may decide they want what my in-laws have to offer, like having a mother figure readily available they can talk to. Not that they couldn’t talk to Sandy Whitley and she never seems to mind since her own daughter is just a couple of years older than they are, but they may see it differently."

The captain’s voice lowered. "Besides, their grandparents can afford a lot more than I can." Hank met his engineer’s eye. "I don’t know, Mike, I just don’t know what to do."

"Well, if you need somebody to play devil’s advocate, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll be happy to help in any way."

"Thanks, Mike, that means a lot." Hank clapped Mike on the shoulder. "One of these days, you’re going to make a great father yourself, pal."

"Yeah? Well, don’t you think I should find a wife first?"

"That probably would help."

*~*~*~*~*

Hank sat in a back booth of the Second Alarm Bar & Grill, a small local eatery that was run by a couple of retired L.A. County firefighters. The walls of the Second Alarm were decked out with firefighting paraphernalia and framed newspaper clippings describing various fires, disasters and heroic acts--some fatal--which L.A. County firefighters were a part. From the jukebox, underlying the din of the many customers, off-duty fireman and civilian alike, there came the strains of the song, "I Fall to Pieces."

Before Hank sat a half-eaten bowl of chili, plus two empty and one half-full beer bottles. Setting his spoon into his bowl, Hank chewed a cracker before washing it down with another swig of alcohol. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze roving the crowded bar, but never lingering on any one thing.

"Chili not up to Gus’ usual offering?"

Hank snapped his attention to the burly man who stood beside him. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Of course it is, Mac! It’s terrific! As usual," he assured the former hose jockey, now co-owner of this establishment. Hank couldn’t help thinking how much extra poundage John "Mac" McKenzie had put on since he retired. The man was still solid, however, and Hank entertained no doubt the man could still haul hose if he put his mind to it. "I’ve just got a lot on my mind."

Mac pushed himself into the seat across from the captain. "Bad run?" he queried knowingly.

"Yeah." Hank agreed. He found the label on his beer bottle rather interesting as he spoke. "We got a run just before shift change this morning. MVA. Young couple was broadside by some teen high on something. Husband made it, wife was killed instantly. The husband took the loss pretty hard."

Mac knew the circumstances surrounding the death of Hank’s wife. He grimaced as his friend told his tale. "Damn, Hank, I’m sorry. Must have been hard on you."

"It wasn’t easy." The lanky captain had to admit it was nice to talk to an understanding audience, to somebody who knew what the job entailed and the things that could happen. "But I’ve got a good crew and they didn’t let my slight hesitation faze them in the least."

"Yeah, they’re a damn good crew," Mac agreed. The former firefighter always seemed to know who was assigned to what shift with every fire company in Los Angeles County, including who had been recently promoted, reassigned, was on medical leave or even just on vacation.

Companionable silence fell between the two friends. After a couple of minutes, Mac lifted his bulk from the padded leather seat. He reached down and picked up the half-eaten bowl of chili and the empty bottles. "Chili’s on the house tonight, Hank."

"Mac, you don’t—" Hank began.

"Gus will understand. Besides, when I take this back, he’ll want to know why it wasn’t finished. You know how he does about people not like his food! Get you anything else?"

"Another beer, if it’s not too much trouble."

"Only if you promise to let me know before you leave so I can find you a ride home."

The captain smiled slightly. "Promise, pal."

Mac nodded. "Another beer coming up," he stated then walked away.

Hank picked up another cracker and nibbled on it. He had just finished the last swallow of his beer when he felt a presence stop next to his booth. He set down the empty bottle as he took in the sight of the pretty, light-haired, hazel-eyed woman who regarded him with a sweet smile. Hank recognized her as one of the waitresses who worked at the Second Alarm; she had just started a couple of months ago. He remembered her politely, but firmly, rebuffing the advances of Gage and Kelly during an A-shift outing there, though she had always been nice to him when he’d seen her. They had talked off and on while she was waiting on his table when he would go there.

"May I join you?" she asked.

Hank gestured to the other side of the table. "Um, yeah, sure. Have a seat. Kate, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you." She scooted into the seat opposite his. "I don’t mean to intrude, but you look like you could use some company."

"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed uncertainly. He noticed that she was wearing street clothes, not her normal waitress outfit. "Are you working tonight?"

"No, I’m off," she said. "I stopped by for a few minutes, then saw you sitting here alone and I’d thought I’d stop and say ‘Hi.’"

Just then, Mac arrived with Hank’s bottle of beer. He glanced at Kate. "Hey, Kate. Get you something?"

"Just a Coke, Mac, thanks."

"On the way," he said. He gave the captain a look that said you lucky hose jockey! And he walked away as Mac winked. Hank tried not to appear embarrassed as he took a quick sip of his Budweiser.

There was a strained silence, then Hank inquired, "So, how are things going for you, Kate?"

"Could be better," she answered. She slapped her hand on the table in frustration. Irritated, she stated, "Why are men so idiotic?" When Hank raised his eyebrows in surprise, she blushed. "I’m sorry."

Hank decided he liked the way she blushed. Just as quickly, he berated himself for thinking that way. "No, that’s all right," he assured her. "Anything I can do?"

"No. My boyfriend and I had a fight, that’s all."

The captain nodded silently. He wasn’t about to pry into her private affairs, but if she felt the need to talk to somebody, he was a good listener.

Mac stopped by with Kate’s drink.

"Thanks, Mac," Kate smiled at her boss.

"Put it on my tab, Mac," Hank directed.

"Hank, no," she objected.

The captain shushed her. "In my time, the man buys the drinks." When she started to protest again, he held up his hand.

"I wouldn’t argue with a captain," Mac informed her with an easy-going smile. "Besides, some of us firefighters are still somewhat old-fashioned."

"About certain things, anyway," the dark-haired captain observed.

"Okay, okay! I won’t start anything!" Kate said, laughing.

"Good thing for you," Mac stated, nodding resolutely as he walked away.

She smiled at her table companion. "You don’t have to, you know."

"I want to," he insisted. "Now, don’t make me call Mac back over here."

"I won’t, I promise. I know how gruff he can be!" Kate chuckled.

They spent the rest of the night in amiable conversation, discussing just about anything that came to mind, though Kate noticed Hank seemed somewhat shy and didn’t talk much about himself. She also noted he kept playing with a thin band of gold encircling the ring finger of his left hand: a wedding band. Cal said his wife was killed in a car accident not too long ago. He said Hank didn’t take the death too hard. It doesn’t seem that way to me. He’s also not the tyrannical monster Cal made him out to be, unless he’s only that way at work. Hank’s always been a sweetheart, towards me, anyway.

After another round of drinks, Hank finally glanced at his watch. "I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. I have to call it a night."

"Tomorrow’s Saturday."

"I work weekends, too. You know how it goes." He waved over his friend.

"Ready to call it a night, Hank?" Mac asked as he approached. "Let me get my car keys, I’ll drive you home."

"I can do that," Kate offered.

"You don’t have to do that, Kate," Hank protested.

"I want to," she stood up. "It’s the least I can do after you bought my Cokes." When Hank got to his feet without so much as a wobble, she looked at the Second Alarm’s owner. "He seems sober enough to me, Mac."

"Oh, it takes a lot more than a few bottles of beer to take out ole Hank here," Mac explained, "but that doesn’t mean he can drive straight."

"I understand," she answered softly. Looking at Hank, she added, "Come on, Captain, let’s go." She walked away without waiting for an acknowledgement.

"I can’t believe I’m letting a woman drive me home," Hank muttered.

Mac clapped him on the shoulder. "Enjoy it, Hank!"

"For cryin’ out loud, Mac, I hardly know her!"

The former hose jockey gave his friend a sympathetic gaze. "Elly wouldn’t want you to become a monk, you know."

The comment gave Hank pause. "Maybe not," he stated hesitantly, "but I’m not ready for anything serious yet."

"Then Kate’s got nothing to be afraid of, does she?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, ya twit!" Hank admonished, shaking his head. As he walked away, he heard Mac chuckling behind him.

*~*~*~*~*

Hank Stanley awakened to the insistent ringing of the alarm clock. Slapping it off, he groaned as he rolled over. As he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, he noticed the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. "What the--?" he wondered aloud, getting to his feet. He walked over to his closet and pulled his robe from the hook on the door. A brief thought skittered through his tired mind; he turned to regard the empty bed. Only his side was rumpled. Of course Elly’s side hasn’t been slept in, ya twit! He admonished himself. Did ya think she’s come back from the dead?

Hank slipped on his long robe then padded down the hallway and descended the staircase. The night before was beginning to shine through the morning fog that misted his slightly fuzzed mind. He remembered meeting Kate at the Second Alarm and her driving him home. Kate must have stayed the night, he thought, trying to figure out the coffee smell. As he made his way through the living room, he noticed a couple rumpled throw pillows on the couch and an afghan on the floor beside it. He breathed a quick sigh of relief. At least I didn’t share a bed with her and not remember!

He stepped into the kitchen. Sure enough, Kate stood next to the stove. She was mixing something in a ceramic bowl as a griddle pan heated on the stove. The coffeepot was filled. Kate looked like she had slept in the clothes she’d been wearing the night before.

"Morning," he greeted.

She jumped, whirled to face him. "Oh, Hank! Good morning!"

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you."

"That’s okay," she answered. "Why don’t you get ready for work while I make breakfast?" She started to turn back to what she was doing.

"Kate, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? Is there something about last night I’m forgetting?"

"Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering."

"I figured as much when I saw the couch," Hank agreed, gesturing with his thumb to the living room. "I mean, is there a reason you’re here" he pointed to the floor "in my house?"

"I’m sorry, I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I spent the night on the couch. You see," she slumped against the counter, "my boyfriend and I didn’t just argue last night. He kicked me out of our apartment. I don’t really know anybody here in L.A. who can take me in, so I don’t have any place to go. I figured you wouldn’t begrudge me one night’s lodging."

"I guess not," he said, "especially since you’re making breakfast."

"Good! Now, why don’t you get ready for work while I get this ready?"

Hank shrugged. "All right. I’ll be down shortly."

Kate watched him exit the kitchen. She couldn’t help but smile as she pictured the tall, lanky captain with his hands tucked into the robe’s deep pockets, the dark, sleep-tousled hair, and the beard stubble. I’ll just bet he’s got the cutest knees! Kate shook her head. What am I doing?! This man killed Jack! Keep your mind on your job, girl!

Kate poured some pancake batter onto the hot griddle, and then she stepped into the living room, found her purse and rummaged through it. Extracting a small bottle, she scooted back to the kitchen. She took a mug from the mug tree in the counter’s corner and, after making sure the coast was clear, dumped a couple of the pills from the container into the mug. Tightening the lid, she stuffed the container into her front jeans pocket. She set the mug aside; prepared to pour hot coffee into it the moment Hank reentered the kitchen.

She had two stacks of pancakes ready and had finished up some bacon when Hank reappeared. He wore blue jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and boots. Kate glanced at his attire. "I thought you had to work today?"

"I do."

"Don’t firemen wear uniforms or is it casual day today?"

He smiled. "I get into uniform at the station."

"Oh," Kate nodded. She saw him reach for the coffeepot. Quickly, she slapped his hand away. "Sit! I’ll get this! Better eat before it gets cold." She nodded to the plates on the table. Milk and orange juice had already been poured into glasses and set on the table.

As Hank sat in a chair, Kate poured the coffee, making sure to set the doctored mug in front of the captain. When Hank took his first sip of the hot brew, he grimaced slightly as he caught the bitter taste of the drug, but didn’t say anything. The taste lasted but a quick moment, so he took a few more sips before setting it down and tackling his breakfast.

The two ate in relative silence. It wasn’t until they’d finished up their breakfasts and were lingering over their coffee, that Hank commented, "That was terrific, Kate, thanks."

She smiled. "My pleasure."

"So, what are your plans?"

"I don’t know," Kate sighed. "I have to get a place of my own, find a better paying job. I don’t have much except for my car and a couple of suitcases of clothes and stuff."

"You’re welcome to stay here until you get on your feet, if you want." Hank found himself offering before he thought about the ramifications. Seeing the strange look she shot him, he swiftly added, "I don’t mean like that. There’s a guest bedroom you can use; I swear it won’t go beyond that."

"But I can’t pay you much," she protested, though she was thinking. Have to make this look good.

"You keep making breakfast like this and you can consider your room paid for," he teased.

"I don’t think so, Hank," she stated. She pointed to his ring finger. "I’m not stupid, I can see you’re married. I’ve seen the pictures in your living room of you and your wife and I assume those twins are your daughters?"

Hank set down his empty mug with a click. He sighed. "My wife died not long ago. Those twins are my daughters, but they’re visiting their grandparents for a couple of weeks." He paused. "To be honest, I don’t know even know why I made the offer. Maybe because I’ve talked with you at the Second Alarm and feel I know you somewhat and want to help. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t been alone in this house for a long time and I just need somebody to talk to. It’s either that or I put in tons of overtime at work until my girls get back."

Kate was surprised to hear the sadness that tinged the captain’s tone of voice. It was contrary to Cal’s description of him. Again she was left to wonder if he transformed into some sort of monster once he got to work. She tried to remember Cal’s warning to her: Don’t let his nice-man act fool you. She was finding it hard to believe it was just an act, though.

"I’m sorry to hear about your wife, Hank. She was a beautiful woman." In that, Kate didn’t need to lie.

"Thanks." He glanced at his watch. "I’ve got to go. Since my car is still at the Second Alarm, I’ll need you to drop me off there, if you could." He pulled out a key ring with a couple of keys attached. "My extra house keys. If you decide not to stay, just return them to me tomorrow morning. I work 24 hour shifts."

Kate took the keys from him. "Let me get my purse," she said as she pushed back her chair.

*~*~*~*~*

Chet whistled slightly off-key as he polished the knobs and gauges on the engine. His mind was on Cap’s uncharacteristic snappish attitude that morning. When Johnny had muttered something under his breath during an announcement at this morning’s roll call, the captain had stepped up to Johnny and yelled at him. After eliciting an apology from Gage, Stanley had then promptly assigned the paramedic several shifts’ worth of latrine duty. The rest of the crew had eyed each other uncertainly. What brought that on? Was the silent message conveyed to each other?

Chet shook his head. It’s going to be one of those shifts.

"What the hell do you call this?"

Chet whirled. He found himself staring into the flashing brown eyes of his captain. "Cap? Is there a problem?"

Hank pointed to the gauges. "You call that clean, Kelly?"

"I, uh, I’m still working on them, Cap."

Without warning, Hank shoved Chet backwards. Chet slammed into the gauges. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his back where it impacted with the protruding knobs. "Don’t get smart-mouthed with me, Kelly!" Hank grabbed Chet by the shirt collar as he loomed over the nervous firefighter. "I want those gears polished and I want them polished now!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

Hank glowered at his man for a moment before releasing Chet’s collar. He walked off, nearly running into Roy as he rounded the end of the engine. "Watch yourself, DeSoto," he barked, brushing past the paramedic.

Roy backed away from his obviously upset superior. He watched Hank stalk away; his attention was redirected to the side of the engine when he heard Chet groan. "Chet?" he moved to the man’s side. He noticed the pain on Chet’s face, so he put a kindly hand on his arm. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yeah, my back’s sore a little, that’s all."

"What did you do?"

"I guess I didn’t do a good enough job polishing the chrome. Cap started yelling at me, then pushed me back against the engine."

"He did what?"

Chet nodded. "Yeah, that was my reaction, too, when he did it. I don’t know what’s got him in such a snit today, Roy, but this isn’t good."

"Cap’s never done anything like this before, no matter how bad a mood he’s been in." He put a hand on Chet’s shoulder. "Let me take a look."

"No," the firefighter brushed off any help. "I’m fine, just sore."

Roy eyed his colleague thoughtfully. "All right, but if you have any problems, let me know. Chet, I have to ask. Did you want to report this?"

Chet understood the implications of what the other man was suggesting. "No, Roy. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it."

The paramedic nodded. "All right."

"I’d better get back to this before Cap returns." Chet held up the cleaning rag before turning back to his assigned chore.

"Yeah," Roy nodded absently. He glanced in the direction their captain had disappeared, at Chet, and then headed towards the day room.

*~*~*~*~*

Thanks to a late morning structure fire, the crew ended up having a belated lunch. Both Roy and Chet kept an eye on their captain, but his foul temper from that morning seemed to have disappeared.

"That was a great lunch, Marco," Hank commented cheerfully as he set down his empty coffee cup.

"Thanks, Cap," the Latino firefighter smiled.

"By the way, Chet, I don’t think I’ve seen the engine so clean when you’ve been in charge of polishing her. Great job. You must have really put your back into it his morning!"

"Um, yeah, I did, Cap." Chet glanced at the senior paramedic in confusion.

Hank stood. "Good. Keep it up!" he encouraged, giving Chet a pat on the shoulder.

Chet flinched when Hank hit a tender spot.

"You okay, pal? You seem a little sore there."

"Yeah, I’m fine, Cap!" the other lied quickly. "I must have, uh, pulled a muscle during our last run."

"Well, take it easy. If it bothers you too much, have Roy or John look at it."

"Sure thing, Cap," Chet promised. He watched the captain leave the day room before he whirled to face Roy. "I really put my back into cleaning the engine?! Is that some sort of joke? He acts like he doesn’t even remember what happened this morning!"

"What happened this morning?" asked Johnny.

Chet held Roy’s worried gaze for a long moment. "Nothing, Gage," he answered, giving Johnny a quick glance. "Cap just rode me about not cleaning the engine properly this morning, that’s all."

Johnny sniffed. "Why do I get the impression it’s more than just Cap harassing you about the engine?"

Knowing how demanding his partner could be when his curiosity was piqued, Roy held up a placating hand. "Not now, Johnny."

Marco picked up some of the dirty dishes and placed them on the counter as Mike ran water in the sink in preparation for washing them. "Does anybody know what had Cap in such a bad mood this morning? I asked him a question before our last run and he practically bit my head off. Now, he’s complimenting me on my cooking!"

Thinking back to the conversation he’d had with his superior during their last shift, Mike queried, "Everything’s all right with the twins, isn’t it?"

"As far as I know," Roy answered. He fell silent a moment then remarked, "Maybe that’s the problem. We know he’s been out of sorts since Elly died, though he has been much better these last few months. Maybe he’s just having a rough go of it with the girls being gone, too."

"Oh, come on, Roy!" Chet argued. "That doesn’t explain Cap…" he hesitated, remembering they had an audience, "doing what he did."

"What did he do?" Johnny wanted to know.

"Nothing that need concern you, Gage," the firefighter snapped.

"It’s the best I can come up with," Roy stated. He glanced at the others. "Did Cap seem… out of character… to any of you? Besides you, Marco."

"Just short tempered," Mike replied as he set some dirty dishes into the sudsy water filling the sink.

"Yeah, but more so," Johnny added.

"You think there might be something wrong with Tracy or Darcy?" Marco asked, concern tingeing his voice.

"Well, whatever it was, he seems to be all right now," Roy rationalized. "Let’s just give him the benefit of the doubt this once, huh?" Again, the paramedic met each of his shift-mates’ eyes, ending with Chet’s.

Chet nodded. "Sure, Roy."

*~*~*~*~*

Several shifts came and went. With them, a pattern developed, one that had Hank’s crew baffled. Their captain would come in to work in a nasty mood, ranting and raving about every little thing that went wrong in the station. In some cases, Hank found fault even when his men weren’t in error. They found themselves treading lightly, desperately hoping not to attract their superior’s attention and thus getting themselves roughly reprimanded.

By early afternoon, sometimes even before lunch, Hank would revert to his usual, amicable self. He seemed not to remember the mornings’ episodes with his malicious temper and was confused by the constant questions into his welfare.

Hank’s crew didn’t know what to make of the sudden mood swings. They debated reporting the incidents, though they didn’t want to get their captain in trouble. They talked about getting him in for a medical check-up, but they knew it would be an uphill battle convincing Cap something was wrong with him. They realized, however, that something had to be done and soon.

*~*~*~*~*

As the days went by, Kate found it harder and harder to believe her brother-in-law’s description of Hank was accurate. The captain treated her with nothing but respect. He never pried into her private affairs, nor did he push to make their relationship anything more than the casual friendship it was. She couldn’t believe that this man who was nothing but a gentleman with her could be such a heartless tyrant. Despite Cal’s warning, she knew it couldn’t all be an act.

One morning a couple of weeks after she had moved in, Kate sat at the kitchen table. Hank had left for work, once again unaware that she had doctored his morning coffee. As she picked at the remains of her breakfast, Kate couldn’t help wondering what the drug did to Hank. It wasn’t affecting his job performance, risking innocent lives, was it? He wasn’t pushing his crew into more dangerous situations, was he? Hank hadn’t mentioned anything, but she knew from experience he rarely talked about his job unless she asked, though he did tell her about the men he worked with and confused her expectations further by saying mostly good things about them. She got the impression he was proud of his crew and truly enjoyed his work in the fire service. Why would he risk it all by treating his men so badly?

Kate put the dirty dishes in the sink. As she walked into the living room on her way to get a shower, she again noticed the many family pictures, situated on the two middle shelves of a shelving unit along one wall. There were several of Hank and his wife, some of them with the twins. Kate couldn’t help but notice how happy they seemed.

Hank had spoken a couple of times about Elly. Kate could tell her death had affected him deeply and that he still mourned her loss. When he talked about his girls, however, there was a tone of pride in his voice that was only heard when proud parents spoke of their children. He had regaled her often of their antics, sharing the joys and woes of being the father of identical twins, until she was laughing so hard she was practically crying. There was no mistaking the undying love he felt for Tracy and Darcy.

Kate shook her head in an effort to clear her confusing thoughts. She was just about to undress prior to stepping into the shower when she remembered she had washed towels yesterday. She went to the linen closet, opened it and stretched her arms up to the top shelf and pulled down a couple of towels. She deftly caught them as they fell, but something more solid bounced off her head on its way to the floor.

Looking down, Kate saw a small, wrapped package. Beside it lay what was obviously a card in an envelope. "Now who would store a gift in the linen closet?" she asked aloud to nobody in particular as she stooped down to pick the items up. Kate set the towels on another shelf and turned her attention to the gift and card.

Turning the card over in her hands, Kate could find no name on the envelope. Her curiosity piqued, she opened the unsealed envelope and extracted the card. It was an anniversary card. The flowing verses of love and happiness misted Kate’s eyes, but it was the handwritten inscription on the bottom of the inside that made the tears trickle down her cheeks. Elly, There is no man happier than I to have you for my wife, no man luckier that you chose me to be your husband. You are the love of my life. Happy 15^th Anniversary and to many more, Hank.

He never had the chance to give this to her! Kate lamented. "Oh, Hank," she moaned softly, "I’m so sorry!" It seemed evident to Kate that Hank had hidden the gift to keep his wife from finding it. When she had been killed, he’d either forgotten about it or had been unable to deal with it. Kate began to cry.

For his loss, it was as well as her own.

*~*~*~*~*

It wasn’t until later that day when Kate got up the gumption to visit Station 51. She wanted to see for herself what kind of captain Hank really was. She carried a plate of cookies as her excuse for visiting. When she rang the doorbell, a skinny, dark-haired young man answered it. His nametag read Gage. "Can I help you?" he politely asked.

"Is Captain Stanley available?"

"He’s here somewhere." He held open the door further, allowing her entrance. "Come in."

"Thank you."

As they walked through the apparatus room, Kate couldn’t help but admire the gleaming red squad and engine. Hank is in charge of this? I’m impressed! "You must be Johnny," she said conversationally.

Johnny stopped and looked at her. "How did you know?"

"Hank’s talked about you."

A crooked grin crossed the paramedic’s face. "He has, has he?"

Kate nodded. He’s cute enough, but he’s no Hank Stanley, she thought; then caught herself before she blushed. "Yes," she answered simply.

"Oh, I see," Johnny answered, his voice dropping to a more neutral tone. It was obvious to him he wasn’t going to get any more information out of their guest than that, so he led her to the day room. "Cap, you’ve got a visitor."

"Kate!" Hank jumped out of his chair, walked over to her. "What brings you?"

She held up the plate of goodies. "I thought you and your men might like a treat."

Hank took the proffered plate. "This is terrific. Thanks!" He handed the cookies over to Roy, who removed the plastic wrap and placed them on the table for all to help themselves. "You didn’t have to do this."

"I wanted to, really," she smiled. She glanced at the five faces staring at her. "So, is this your crew?"

"Oh, yeah! This is John Gage," he gestured to the paramedic.

"We’ve met," she stated, nodding.

Hank introduced each of his men. "John’s partner, Roy DeSoto, Firefighter Chet Kelly, Firefighter Marco Lopez, and my engineer, Mike Stoker. This is Kate Brennan."

"Hey, I know you! You work at the Second Alarm! Why’d ya bring Captain Stanley the goodies?" Chet asked, giving her a long, appraising, hopeful look.

"Um—" Kate began, glancing at the captain, not sure how much to tell the others.

"Kate’s been staying with me," Hank informed honestly, with no hint of embarrassment.

"Staying with you, Cap?" Chet asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"It’s not like that, ya twit!" Hank berated, though not harshly.

Kate saw Chet flinch slightly at the reprimand, but he recovered so quickly, she was left wondering if she’d actually seen it. Though none of Hank’s crew seemed openly afraid of him, Kate could sense a little bit of unease hanging in the air. Along with the tension, however, she could also see concern in their expressions. They certainly don’t seem to be terrified of him! She thought. Cal made it sound as if they were afraid to breathe wrong around him.

"Hank is letting me stay with him until I find a place of my own. It’s a long story. He’s been a sweetheart," Kate said.

"I always said you were a real pussycat, Cap," Marco ribbed.

"Merow." That was from Stoker’s direction.

"Besides driving the rig," Hank joked, "Mike’s also our resident impersonator."

Kate chuckled.

The phone rang. Marco answered it; spoke a moment before holding up the receiver. "Cap, it’s for you. It’s Chief McConnike."

"I’ll take it in my office, Marco, thanks." Hank looked at Kate. "Excuse me."

"Sure thing."

As Hank exited the day room and Marco hung up the phone, Roy offered, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, no, I have to get going."

"Ah, c’mon," Chet wheedled, "you’re not going to leave without telling us how you got Cap to let you move in, are you? He doesn’t tell us anything. How long has this been going on?"

"I don’t think that’s any of our business, Chet!" Marco scolded.

"Well if this whole thing just started, it might explain why Cap’s been such a bear lately," the other firefighter rationalized.

"A bear?" Kate asked, hoping they didn’t begin to suspect anything.

"Chet!" Johnny admonished. He smiled apologetically at their visitor. "Don’t mind him, he’s been in one fire too many." He threw his colleague a nasty look.

Kate obligingly nodded in semi-understanding. "That’s okay. I haven’t had any problems with Hank. I wouldn’t be staying with him if I had. Listen, I really do have to get going. Tell Hank I said good-bye, all right?"

"Sure," Roy smiled, "and thanks for bringing the cookies."

"No problem. It was nice meeting you all."

Kate left the station. The visit made her more confused than ever. She could hear the underlying concern in Chet’s voice when he asked her about Hank. And though Johnny had tried to cover it up, she could tell the others were worried about their commander, as well. There certainly wasn’t any of the insubordination Cal had suggested would happen once Hank became an even worse taskmaster.

It’s not fear that keeps Hank’s men in line. She realized. It’s respect. As she got into her car and drove away, Kate knew what it was she had to do.

*~*~*~*~*

A few days later, when Kate swung out of bed, she could hear the shower running as Hank got ready to go to work. Hurriedly, she dressed and trotted downstairs. After putting the coffee on, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the plastic drug container. There were still half a dozen pills left. No more! She thought. I won’t do this anymore!

She tightened her grip on the container as she made her way outside. She went to the garbage can and tossed the offending item into the trash. She replaced the lid then wiped her hands as she made her way back to the house. Just as she reached for the back door handle, she was startled by a voice.

"Hello, Kate."

Kate whirled to face Jack’s younger sibling. "Cal! I didn’t hear you approach! What brings you here? If Hank sees you—"

"Don’t worry," he assured. "He won’t see me." Cal held up a small vial. Inside the glass container sloshed a clear liquid. "I’ve got something for you to put in Hank’s coffee. This is a more concentrated version of what you’ve been giving him. Hank will be sure to flip out with this and then his crew will have to report his behavior."

"No, Cal."

"What did you say?" Surprise tinged Cal’s voice.

"I said, ‘No, Cal.’ I won’t do this anymore! Hank’s not the tyrant you think he is! He’s a very nice guy!"

"I warned you about that Jekyll and Hyde routine of his! You don’t know what he does to his crew—"

Kate did something she never did to her brother-in-law before. She interrupted him. "I’ve been to the station, Cal! If anything, his crew is concerned about him!"

Cal paced away from her; then back. "I can’t believe this! You’re going to let him get away with what he’s done to Jack?"

"Hank still grieves his wife’s loss, too, Cal! He’s still trying to deal with it! But he’s taught me something, Cal, something I needed to learn. Life goes on despite our losses." She touched his arm. "Do you know he’s trying to raise twin daughters on his own? Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?"

Cal grabbed her by the shoulders. He barely managed to refrain from shaking some sense into her. "I can’t believe you’ve let him con you!" He held up the vial. "Take it, Kate. Use it and you won’t have to worry about Hank Stanley ever again!"

Kate squirmed out of his grasp. "No, Cal! I won’t do this anymore!"

"All right, have it your way," Cal began to turn away, then suddenly stopped and looked at her. "Tell me something. How do you intend to tell Hank about his sudden changes in behavior? He will eventually remember, you know. He’ll remember; then he’ll feel guilty for beating up on his crew. He might even resign. Have you thought of that?"

"I’ll just have to tell him what’s been going on."

"Oh, really?" The captain affected an attitude of surprise. "And do you think he’ll want you to stick around after he hears what you did?"

"I’ll tell him the truth, Cal, that you set me up."

Cal smirked. "Do you think he’ll believe you after he finds out you’ve been lying to him all this time?"

Worry crossed Kate’s pretty features. The look was replaced a few seconds later by a determined expression. "I’ll do what I have to do, Cal. Now, go away." Without waiting for an answer, she went back into the house; however, she left the back door open to allow for the cool morning breeze.

Cal’s expression hardened. Damn it! So close… He stepped into the shadows by the back door and looked through the screen door. He could see his sister-in-law pouring two mugs of coffee before she left the kitchen. Smiling to himself, Cal quietly opened the screen door and entered the kitchen.

He stepped up to the counter. It was easy to distinguish between the two mugs. One had flowers on it, the other the L.A. County Fire Department’s logo. Cal popped opening the vial and dumped its contents into Hank’s coffee. He went outside as quickly and as quietly as he’d entered.

As he strolled away from the house, he smiled. It’s been nice knowing you, Captain Stanley! Have a nice trip!

*~*~*~*~*

Hank’s crew was gathered in the kitchen waiting for Cap to announce roll call. For some reason, their captain was running extraordinarily late calling the shift to line up. Mike was sipping on a cup of coffee as Chet finished rubbing Henry behind the ears. Roy was pouring a couple of fresh mugs of java for himself and Johnny while Marco sat at the kitchen table.

"I don’t know, guys," Chet said, "it’s just getting too weird with Cap. Something’s gotta be done."

"Like what?" Johnny wanted to know. "I swear he doesn’t remember anything he’s done. At least, that’s impression I get when he’s over his… mood."

Marco glanced at the junior paramedic. "I, for one, am getting tired of tiptoeing around here. What’s to say he won’t really hurt somebody the next time?"

Johnny nodded at the Latino firefighter. All attentions were suddenly focused on the door to the apparatus room when they heard a banging noise followed by Hank’s irate swearing. The captain stormed into the day room, muttering under his breath and shaking his hand.

"Cap, you all right?" Mike asked, setting aside his mug.

"I’m fine, Stoker!" Hank snapped. "Don’t you guys have work to do?"

"Um, Cap," Roy corrected gently, "we haven’t had roll call yet, so you haven’t assigned the chores."

"Then what are you all standing around here for?" their captain growled. "Get into formation!"

Mike and Chet started for the door as Marco pushed himself to his feet. Roy began to turn as Hank again shook his hand.

"Here, Cap, let me take a look—" Johnny offered, stepping forward.

"Get away from me!" Hank growled. He gave the paramedic a hard shove, sending him sprawling onto the kitchen floor. "All of you! Just stay away!"

"Okay, Cap, whatever you want," Roy assured, holding up a steady hand as Hank turned his attention to the rest of them. He noticed Cap’s brown eyes glinted with fear and appeared slightly glazed. What is going on? Cap seems to be drugged, but he’s never taken anything stronger than aspirin when on the job. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw Chet and Marco help his partner to his feet.

Hank backed from his men. His face was flushed and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. He was almost to the doorway when somebody spoke behind him. "Cap, what’s wrong? Let us help you." Hank whirled to face the newest threat. It was Mike, who held his hands up in a placating gesture. The terrified look in his captain’s eyes gave Mike pause, but only for a moment.

"Easy, Cap, we’re not going to hurt you." Seeing Hank seem to relax somewhat to his soothing words, he took a careful step forward. When Hank again didn’t react to the cautious movement, the engineer gently placed his hand on the man’s arm.

Hank panicked. The ensuing adrenaline rush allowed him the strength to break the grip that quickly tightened on his arm. He grabbed his opponent by the front of his shirt and let fly with a solid punch before turning to race out of the day room. He slammed into Roy, sending the paramedic stumbling sideways into the doorframe, before he dashed out of the day room.

Roy quickly straightened and ran to where Mike had fallen as the others chased after their captain. The engineer was already picking himself up off the floor even as his right eye started showing signs of getting the full brunt of the punch. He quickly brushed off the paramedic’s help. "Gotta get Cap!"

The two ran out of the kitchen. They could hear shouting on the other side of the squad, so they sprinted around the rescue vehicle. What they saw stopped them in their tracks. Hank Stanley was armed with a standard issue fire axe; he held the axe in front of him protectively with both hands while keeping his back as close to the engine as possible.

"Stay back!" he shouted. "I won’t let you take me!"

"Easy, Cap!" Johnny said, holding his hands out in front of him in a soothing gesture. "Nobody’s going to hurt you."

Mike touched Roy’s arm. When the paramedic spared him a glance, he gestured with his chin; then pointed to himself. Roy nodded, mouthed, "Be careful," and then gave the others a quick look, nodding to Mike, who was backing slowly to the front of the engine.

Chet spied the movement. He shifted then stepped forward a pace and spoke soothingly, "Hey, Cap, take it easy, man." It had the desired effect of getting the captain’s attention, giving Mike the distraction he needed to slip away unseen.

Captain Stanley’s hold on the axe tightened. Eyes narrowed, he glared at his men, silently daring them to approach.

Roy spoke softly. "Cap, nobody’s going to hurt you. Put down the axe."

"No!" Hank snarled. He suddenly swung the axe with both hands. It arced on an even horizontal plane, forcing the others to spring back to avoid its deadly blade. The axe became buried in the gleaming metal of the engine, just below the jump seat Marco occupied during a run. The captain struggled momentarily to free the blade.

Quickly, Mike leapt from his perch on top of the hose bed. He grabbed his captain by the shoulders as they hit the concrete floor of the apparatus bay. Hank struggled violently, trying to free himself from the strong armlock Stoker, who lay under the captain, had around his arms. He lashed out with both his feet, catching Chet on the right shin, sending the firefighter sprawling. Mindful of what had just happened to his best friend, Marco maneuvered deftly to one side before he fell on Hank’s legs and sat on them.

Hank threw his head back and screamed in frustration. When Johnny grabbed one of Hank’s arms, Mike transferred his grip on that side and flung his arm over his protesting superior’s forehead in an effort to keep him from thrashing his head and possibly hurting himself.

"Take it easy, Cap!" Mike said.

"Cap! It’s all right! We’re not trying to hurt you!" Johnny soothed.

"No!" Hank hollered. He continued to struggle against the strong holds on him, even as Roy quickly set up the biophone and drug box near the squad. Seeing his colleagues had Hank restrained fairly well, Chet hobbled over to assist the senior paramedic.

"Chet, contact Rampart for me," Roy instructed as he pulled out the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. He moved to Johnny’s side and wrapped the cuff around the arm his partner struggled to hold.

Before he could finish taking the BP, Hank’s head suddenly dropped back onto Mike’s chest. Mike’s worried gaze fell on the paramedics. "Roy, John, he’s lost consciousness!"

The men released their tight holds on their captain and jumped up, prepared to assist as Roy and Johnny swiftly took vitals and checked out their patient. Mike dashed over to the base station to call in a still alarm and request an ambulance. After Johnny checked pupil response, he looked at his partner and reported his findings.

"Stand by, Rampart," Chet told the person on the other end of the biophone. He held the receiver out to Roy.

Mike trotted back to the group. "Ambulance is on the way," he informed the others as he knelt beside Marco. They watched anxiously as the paramedics stabilized their comatose captain.

A couple of minutes later, the engineer stood up then went over to activate the front bay door. The metal door rattled upward, allowing the coming ambulance more direct access to the patient. When the ambulance arrived several minutes later, Captain Stanley was ready to be transported. Johnny elected to travel with their captain. After loading the biophone and drug box in the ambulance for the trip, they were on their way to the hospital.

Roy watched the emergency vehicle speed off before turning back to regard the very worried expressions on his crewmates’ faces. Not knowing what to tell them, he directed his attention to Stoker. "How’s the eye, Mike?"

"Hurts," was the entire engineer would say.

Roy stepped up to him and gently palpitated the area outside the bruise that was rapidly forming. "Nothing feels broken," he commented. He clicked on his penlight and checked the eye. "Doesn’t look like there’s any damage to the eye itself, but you should get it checked by a doctor. Why don’t you ride along with me to Rampart?"

Mike shook his head. "We’ll take the engine." He glanced at Chet, who nodded his agreement. " We’re out of service until we get another captain for the rest of the shift, anyway."

"Are you up to driving the rig?"

"I’ll be okay."

Marco walked up to his shift-mate. "Here, Mike," he offered, holding out a cold compress.

Mike smiled as he took the proffered item. "Thanks, Marco." He turned to Chet. "How’s your leg, Chet?"

"I’ll be all right," the Irishman assured. "Cap sure can kick like a mule!" He paused; then asked, "What happened, anyway? What made Cap go crazy like that, Roy?"

"I’m not sure," the paramedic answered truthfully. "Seemed like he was on something, but we won’t know for sure until the doctors examine him."

"On something?" Marco repeated incredulously. He rubbed his left shoulder. "Like drugs?"

"Yeah, Marco," Roy agreed, "but like I said, we won’t know for sure until he gets checked out." He nodded to the Latino’s shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Cap shoved me into the squad, but I’m fine."

"I, for one, am glad Big Red is the only one that got hurt here!" Chet stated as he picked up the fallen axe. He fingered the gash in the engine’s shiny surface.

"You know, Cap’s never going to forgive himself for what he’s done," Marco supplied, taking the axe from his friend and putting it back where it belonged.

Mike reached out to touch the scarred surface of his engine. "It wasn’t his fault."

"We’ll just have to make sure he knows it," Roy added. "Come on, let’s go."

*~*~*~*~*

"What happened?" Dr. Kelly Brackett wanted to know as he began his own examination of the unconscious captain.

"He went ballistic," Johnny stated simply.

Roy pushed open the door to the examination room just in time to hear his partner’s assessment. He moved to stand next to Johnny.

"Ballistic?" Kel spared them a quick glance. He noted the bruises on both paramedics.

"Ballistic," Roy repeated. "We were in the day room having coffee when he suddenly went off the deep end, or so it seemed."

"Yeah, he thought we were out to get him."

Johnny was interrupted as Joe Early came into the room. "What have you got, Kel?" he asked as Dixie read off vital signs. "I’ve got Mike Stoker in Treatment Three with the mother of all black eyes, but the only thing he’s worried about is how his captain is faring."

Kel glanced at the firemen. "That’s what I’m trying to find out. It appears 51’s captain could be tripping on something, but I haven’t had a chance to find out for sure."

Joe checked Hank’s pupils. "His pupils are dilated." He redirected his attention to Roy and Johnny. "Is Hank the one who gave Mike that shiner? Your colleague was pretty tight-lipped when I asked him about it."

"Yeah," Roy answered. "As we were telling Dr. Brackett here, Cap suddenly went crazy. No warning. One minute we were in the day room, the next, Cap’s yelling at us; then accusing us of being out to get him. When we tried to calm him down, he slugged Mike Stoker and took off running."

"Then he ran into the apparatus room, grabbed an axe off the engine and started swinging it like he wanted to do us all in," Gage added, shuddering as he thought about what could have happened if their captain had succeeded in hitting one of them.

"I did notice his eyes had this wild appearance to them," the senior paramedic continued. "Almost like he’s on something."

Kel ordered up a series of x-rays and blood tests before returning his attention to the two firefighters. "Is this the first episode he’s had?"

Roy shook his head slightly. "Well, nothing like this, but for the past couple of weeks, he’s been coming into work in some really bad moods. He’s been constantly yelling at us for stupid little things or things we didn’t even do. He’s even gotten—" he looked at his partner for help.

"Gotten what?" Joe queried. Seeing the reluctance the men were displaying, he urged, "Guys, we have to know what’s been going on. You know that."

"Physical," Roy stated. "Chet said he shoved him against the engine when Cap got angry with him."

"Marco had a similar experience," Johnny informed. "I know there was one time I thought he was going to slug me, too." The dark-haired young man glanced at all the faces in the treatment room before returning his gaze to Kel. "This isn’t like him, Dr. Brackett. Captain Stanley never goes this far, no matter how angry he gets."

The portable x-ray technicians pushed into the room. Gesturing, Kel silently ordered the others out of the room. As they stepped into the hallway, the remaining A-shift crew swiftly converged on the small group of medical personal. Kel held up a restraining hand before the questions could start flying. "Gentlemen, I know you’re worried, but we don’t know anything conclusive right now. Let’s take this up in my office. Dix, let me know when it’s clear to go back in."

"Right, Kel," Dixie acknowledged. She gave the gathered men a nod before striding back to other duties.

In Brackett’s office, nobody was relaxed. Joe perched on the edge of his colleague’s desk while Kel stood with his arms crossed. The crew of Station 51 took up various positions standing or leaning against something. Kel eyed the firefighters thoughtfully. All sported various degrees of bruising; Chet Kelly had limped somewhat coming into the office. Stoker seemed the worst off as he held an icepack over his black-and-blue eye.

"How’s the eye, Mike?" he asked.

"All right," the engineer answered simply.

"There’s no damage to the eye itself," Joe provided.

"That’s good to hear," Kel’s voice took on a more serious tone. "Gentlemen," he spoke to the engine crew, "we were discussing your captain’s recent symptoms and behavior changes in an attempt to find out what’s going on."

"You told them what happened?" Chet accused the paramedics. "I mean, what Cap did to us—"

"We had to, Chet," Roy told him. "It’s the only way we can help them figure out what’s going on with him."

"I don’t want to get Cap into trouble," Marco stated. "He’s never done anything like this before. He’s not himself."

"It’s okay, Marco," Joe assured calmly. "We want to figure out why the sudden change in your captain’s behavior. Anything you gentlemen say here is confidential. Besides, if it is a medical condition, it’s imperative we know the symptoms so we know what to look for."

Kel nodded. "Right. Now, how long has he had these mood swings?"

"Well," Roy stated, "he took his wife’s death several months ago pretty hard, but that was to be expected."

"But he didn’t act like this," Mike added.

"Mike’s right. I’d say maybe the last couple of weeks."

"It started right after his girls left on their annual visit to Cap’s in-laws," Johnny said.

"Yeah, about then," Chet agreed.

"Was he having a hard time dealing with them being gone?" Kel queried.

"A little," Johnny answered. "He never got along well with his mother-in-law. It hasn’t gotten any better since Elly’s death. I get the feeling there’s more to it then just that, but Cap hasn’t said anything. At least, not to me, he hasn’t." He placed a hand on his chest.

"But nothing to make him go crazy, Doc," Marco said. "Cap’s a pretty stable guy and if he’s acted a bit out of it the past few months, it’s understandable considering how much he loved Elly."

Kel nodded. "Did he sustain a blow to the head anytime before the behavior change?"

"Not that we know of," Mike answered.

"Do you think there could be a medical reason, Doc?" Chet asked. "You don’t think Cap’s started taking something, do you? That the pressure’s become too much for him to handle--"

"That’s what we want to find out," Joe interrupted.

"We also don’t want you guys to jump to any conclusions," Brackett stated. "We won’t know anything until the test results are back. In the mean time, I suggest you guys go back to the station to your jobs and let us do ours."

Mike straightened to his full height. "We’ve got to contact Headquarters and let them know what’s happened."

"Do you want me to call your chief, let him know what we know?"

"I’d appreciate that, Dr. Brackett. Thanks." The engineer looked at his crewmates. "Let’s go, guys."

"You’ll let us know once you find something out?" Marco asked the physicians.

"Promise," Joe smiled.

*~*~*~*~*

Hank slowly regained consciousness. His head pounded, his throat felt dry. What’s going on? He thought muzzily as he blinked in the softly lit room. Where am I? What the hell happened?

Panic flashed through the semi-conscious captain when he realized he couldn’t move his arms. He tugged with all his waning strength, realizing he was in restraints. Why am I tied down? What’s happening?!

What little reserves he possessed were depleted quickly. Wearily, he dropped his head back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened. Bursts of memory flared in his mind, different images of things that had occurred the past couple of weeks. Memories suppressed earlier were now flooding back to him. As the minutes ticked past, Hank forced himself to relax his breathing, calm his rapid heart rate and piece together the puzzle of his jumbled thoughts.

What he envisioned did not sit well with him: He was angrily shoving Chet into the engine as he yelled at him. He was harshly berating Marco for a small lapse in judgment then the flash of fear in the Latino’s eyes as he raised his hand to strike him. He was growling sharp remarks about Mike’s driving as they rushed to an emergency situation. The looks of trepidation his crew gave him when they saw him in the station, how they avoided him when they saw him coming, walked around as if afraid of doing something that might set him off.

Dear Lord, what have I been doing? What have I become? Even as those thoughts came to mind, he flashed on the most horrifying image of all: he was brandishing a fire axe with intent to use it. Not against a door, but against his men. His crew was gathered just out of the target area as they tried to convince him to put the instrument down. Ignoring their pleas, he’d swung the axe and it had become buried… the next vision he pictured was of Mike stumbling backwards.

"No!!" he screamed, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. I killed Mike! No! Tears trickled from his eyes as he shook his head in denial. I killed my engineer! I must be losing my mind! No wonder they have me restrained! I deserve to be locked away. What have I done?!

Several minutes later Hank was emotionally as well as physically exhausted. He closed his eyes against the terrifying images and drifted off to a restless slumber.

*~*~*~*~*

Kate stepped into the apparatus bay from the back parking lot. She noticed the squad was missing, but the engine was still parked in its usual place. Hearing quiet voices, she followed them to the day room. She stepped inside and found Hank’s engine crew seated at the kitchen table. "Hey, guys," she greeted cheerfully. "Is your captain around?"

"Kate?" Marco said, surprised.

Kate’s brow furrowed. Was it her imagination or did they all look worried about something? She noticed the bruising on Mike’s face.

"Mike! What did you do?"

The engineer glanced at the others. "I, uh, I got hit."

Kate suddenly felt her insides twist. She swallowed. "What happened?"

"It was Captain Stanley," Chet stated matter-of-factly. "He flipped out."

The color drained from Kate’s face. Mike jumped up and helped her sit down. "Here, Kate, take it easy."

Kate shook her head. Oh, no! Cal, you didn’t! She pleaded silently. "Flipped out? Is he all right? Are you guys all right?"

"We’re fine," Marco replied. "Mike got the worst of it. Cap is at Rampart now. They’re running tests to find out what’s been going on."

"I see," she answered. She glanced at each man. She could see the deep concern in each of their faces. She had no doubt Roy and John had the same feeling running through them as well. These men cared what happened to their captain. Seeing their apprehension, Kate no longer possessed any doubts that this was the case. It’s my fault they’re sitting here, so worried about Hank! I never should have let Cal talk me into this crazy scheme of his!

Chet looked at their guest. "You’ve been hangin’ out with the Cap, right?"

"Yes," Kate replied warily. Do they suspect something?

"He hasn’t been takin’ anything, has he?"

"Taking anything?"

"You know, like drugs or something. We’ve been trying to figure out what happened. He’s been acting really weird these past few shifts since his daughters have gone to visit his in-laws."

"He took it pretty hard when he lost his wife several months ago in a car accident," Marco remarked. "Some drunk driver broadside their car and now this. I don’t know how much more he can take."

"His wife was in the car?" Kate queried.

"Yeah," Mike said sadly, "it was their fifteenth wedding anniversary."

Kate fought to keep from shaking. Oh, no! Cal didn’t tell me that! Cal lied to me! The accident was Jack’s fault! He killed Ellen Stanley! Oh, Hank, will you ever be able to forgive me for what I’ve done?

All of a sudden, Kate needed to get out of there. She knew if she stayed, she’d end up telling the three everything and didn’t want to do that until she had a chance to talk to Hank first. She stood up abruptly. The others stood as well, their concern now directed at her. "I’m sorry, I have to go," she remarked.

"We understand," Mike stated.

"Yeah, we’ll let you know when we find out anything," Marco promised.

Kate could only nod before she bolted from the room.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hank?"

Captain Stanley slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring into the stoic gaze of Kelly Brackett. "Doc?"

"Hank, do you know where you are?"

"Hospital?" The psychiatric ward, right?

"That’s right." The doctor nodded. "Do you remember what happened?"

The axe… Mike falling backwards… him beating up his crew… the axe… "Yeah, I remember. I know what I did," he groaned. Mike, I’m so sorry!

"Good. We’re still running tests, Hank. Until we can figure out what happened, we have to keep you in restraints, do you understand?"

Hank nodded. Yeah, keep me tied down until you can have me shipped off to the funny farm. I understand perfectly.

"Okay, you just get some rest. We’ll take good care of you." Brackett patted his shoulder in a comradely manner then walked away.

Hank closed his eyes again as he heard the door close softly behind the doctor’s departure. Suddenly, his brown eyes opened as a thought occurred to him: The twins. Who’s going to take care of Darcy and Tracy? How can I let them see me like this? Their father totally flipped out. They can’t see me like this!

He laughed, the noise harsh even to his own ears. What am I worried about? Once Ethel gets word of this, she’ll make sure they never see me again! She’ll be more than happy to see me locked away where I’ll never ‘hurt’ her again. This’ll be just the excuse she needs to get them away from me.

Any further thoughts were interrupted when the door was opened slowly. He lifted his head to see Kate peeking into the room. "Kate? What are you doing here?"

Kate walked all the way into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her. She stood beside his bed as she gazed, shocked, at him. "Oh, Lord, Hank, what did they do to you? Are you all right?" If I got in here so easily, what’s to stop Cal from doing the same and possibly hurting Hank further? I’ve got to get him to safety!

"You shouldn’t be here, Kate. I don’t want you here." He turned his head away, ashamed that she was seeing him like this.

"Hank, it’s all right. I’m going to help you. I’m going to get you out of here."

He turned his head, met her gaze. "What?"

"I’m getting you out of here," she repeated.

"You can’t! Kate, I attacked my crew for apparently no reason! They think I’ve flipped out. I don’t think they’re far off."

Kate began to unbuckle the restraints. Her next words held a sense of urgency. "Hank, you’re in danger! We’ve got to get out of here!"

Hank pushed himself to a sitting position. He rubbed his sore wrists as he regarded Kate. "What are you talking about? Kate, didn’t you hear what I said about--"

"I did! It wasn’t your fault! I’ll explain later! We have to get out of here, now!" She walked over to the closet and opened it. Extracting his uniform shirt and pants, she tossed them on the bed. Seeing he hadn’t moved off the bed, she pleaded, "Please, Hank! I’ll explain everything later, but we have to go!"

Hank could see the genuine fear in her eyes. This, more than anything, prompted him to get moving. He picked up his pants and slipped them on. Quickly, he shucked the hated hospital gown, tossed it aside and put on his blue uniform shirt. When he finished buttoning his shirt and tucking it in, he found Kate holding out his shoes and socks. With a quick "Thanks," he sat down on the bed and pulled on the footgear.

Tying off the second shoelace, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

"From what?"

"It’s a long story. Trust me, all right?"

"I don’t even trust myself right now," he said as he stood up. "Kate, I’m not sure you should be doing this. What if I go off the deep end again? I might hurt you." Like I hurt my crew.

"You won’t," she stated with conviction. She took him gently by the arm. "Let’s go."

*~*~*~*~*

They made their way out of Rampart using the back exits. Nobody questioned their presence as they walked through the parking garage to Kate’s car. Even that short jaunt seemed to take a lot out of the fire captain; once he got into the passenger side of the car, he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Kate was gently shaking his shoulder. He woke up, turned his head to regard her. "Kate?"

She smiled at him. "We’re here, Hank."

"Here?" He lifted his head. The car was parked in front of a rustic cabin. "Where are we?"

"At a friend’s cabin," she answered. "We’ll be safe here. It’s peaceful. We won’t be disturbed. It’ll give you time to get back to normal."

"I don’t think I know what normal is anymore," Hank admitted as he opened his door. He carefully got to his feet and looked around. There were plenty of trees around, so it did seem peaceful. Maybe it’ll help me put all the jumbled pieces of my memory together, he thought. He again flashed on the sight of the axe arching outward and Mike falling backwards. Maybe it’ll convince me I need some serious help. "Kate, I don’t think this is such a good idea. You have no idea what I’ve done…"

Kate came around the end of the car. "Hank, it’ll be all right, you’ll see." She smiled at him as she gently led him to the cabin. "Why don’t you get some more rest while I get our stuff out of the car, then I’ll make dinner, okay?"

Seeing it would do no good to argue, the captain nodded slightly as he walked into the cabin. The inside consisted of a large living area, with a kitchenette in one corner and a couple of doors that led to other rooms. It was to one of these doors that Kate led him. Inside that room there was a large bed and various other pieces of bedroom furniture. She gestured to the bed.

"Get some rest, Hank. We’ll talk later."

"All right, but we will talk," he stated.

Kate left him then. Hank stood and stared at the bed for a long moment. He had to admit, it looked inviting. A couple of strides bridged the distance between it and him. He sat down, giving it a couple of obligatory bounces. It was very comfortable. Hank pulled off his shoes and set them on the floor.

Maybe I’ll just lie down for a while, he figured. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the feather pillow.

*~*~*~*~*

Several hours later, Kate found Hank sitting on the bed. He was staring quietly at his folded hands that rested on his knees. The action of stepping into the room got his attention. "Care for some dinner?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "Not hungry."

Catching the forlorn tone to his voice, she walked over and sat next to him on the bed. For a long time, neither said anything. Kate reached out and put her left hand on top of both of his. She watched as he stared at her hand; then tenderly took it in his right hand. For a second or two, he rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand before finally raising his head to look at her.

Before she lost her nerve, Kate leaned over and kissed Hank lightly on the lips. When he didn’t shove her away, she kissed him again. Her right arm wrapped around his shoulders as she put more intensity into the kiss. Pleasure coursed through her as he reciprocated the motion, wrapping his free arm around her back as they kissed.

When they finally pulled apart, Kate was excited to see passion in Hank’s eyes. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned over and blazed a trail of kisses from her lips to the base of her jaw. Sitting up, he looked into her dark eyes. "I need you, Kate," he stated simply.

"I need you, Hank." She swiftly fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt. Glancing down, he helped her unbutton the blue shirt before he pulled it off, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor even as she untucked his white undershirt.

Soon, the rest of their clothes followed and two lost souls found what they needed in each other.

*~*~*~*~*

Kate woke. She lay, listening, for a long moment until she realized what was wrong. It was too quiet. She should have been able to hear Hank breathing softly beside her. Startled, she rolled over, only to find the bed empty. Reaching out to touch the place where he had lain, she found the spot cold. Quickly, she got up, slipping on her underwear and his blue shirt. The article of clothing, tailored to fit Hank’s tall frame, hung halfway to her knees.

A hurried search led her to the deck. It was dark outside, but the moon was bright. It was enough to help her find Hank, dressed only in his dark pants, standing by the railing, his hands gripping the wood tightly. His head was bowed and, if she didn’t know better, Kate could have sworn his shoulders were shaking from silent sobs.

"Hank?" she queried cautiously.

The movement halted abruptly, but Hank didn’t turn, nor did he raise his head. Kate approached him, stopping next to the railing. She put a hand on his arm; the other hand she reached up and stroked his dark, disheveled hair. "Hank, what’s wrong?"

"I betrayed them, Kate," he said softly. "I betrayed them all."

"Betrayed who?"

"Elly, my daughters, my crew. I didn’t deserve to have any of them in my life. I’ve done nothing but bring pain to them all."

"How did you betray them, Hank?" Kate wanted to know. She grabbed his chin gently and forced him to look at her. The pain and sorrow that reflected in his eyes from the moonlight almost brought tears to her eyes. And I wanted to kill this man a couple of weeks ago! How wrong I’ve been! Cal, too! I only hope I can convince Cal to drop this vengeance act he feels he has to perform. Hank Stanley has suffered enough! "Tell me how you betrayed them."

"I betrayed Elly tonight, by sleeping with you. Don’t get me wrong, please, I- it was wonderful. You’re a terrific lover. I haven’t felt so good in so long…"

"And because you felt so good with me, you feel you betrayed the love you had with Elly," she stated knowingly.

"Yes." He blinked. "How did you--?"

"I felt the same way with you. I thought I had betrayed Jack’s love when I realized I was falling hard for you." She shook her head. "But it’s not betrayal, Hank. Elly would have wanted you to continue living. She wouldn’t have wanted you to stop living because she has. At least, she has on this plane of existence."

Hank thought about what she said. "Yeah, you’re right. But it doesn’t matter any more. I’m losing my mind. I killed one of my crew; maybe hurt more of them. I can’t live with myself knowing I did that."

"Killed one of your crew? No, Hank! I saw them, all of them, at the station. They were so worried about you!"

Hank straightened to his full height as he turned fully towards her. "Are you sure? I could have sworn I killed Mike! I had that axe in my hand, I was out to kill—"

Axe? Oh, no! I have to come clean! Kate realized. He’s going to hate me for this, but I can’t continue this charade! He has to be warned about Cal!

"Your crew is fine! All you gave Mike was a black eye and the rest have bruises and bumps from trying to restrain you. You were hallucinating." She paused a moment to let her information sink in before continuing hesitantly, "I know why you were hallucinating and so short with your crew the past week or so."

The captain looked at her strangely. "Oh?"

"I drugged your morning coffee."

"What? Kate, why?"

"My husband, Jack. He was the driver of the other car from the accident that killed your wife. His brother, Cal, convinced me that you were at fault and you deserved to lose your command because of it. Cal also told me lies about you: he said you didn’t appreciate the excellent crew you had; that you abused your crew psychologically, sometimes even threatening physical harm if they didn’t obey your orders; that they were afraid of you so much they didn’t dare report you for fear of your wrath; you didn’t care your wife had died. After all these months, I was still grieving so badly that it wasn’t hard for him to twist that into hate. Hate for you. I made it easy for him to exact his vengeance on you. He wants your command, Hank. He wants Station 51’s A-shift to be his shift." There! I said it! Now if he decides he hates me, there’s nothing I can do.

Hank contemplated her words. "Dear God, Captain Calvin Adams is your brother-in-law?"

"Yes." She nodded her head, trying to hold back her tears.

"And he wants my command, so he conned you into drugging my coffee so I would hallucinate and think my crew was out to get me?" Hank shook his head, trying to understand.

"Yes. I’m so sorry, Hank! Cal portrayed you as this evil tyrant, somebody to be vanquished. So I came into your life with a neat little story about a boyfriend who kicked me out of our home and how I needed a place to stay. Cal knew you’d feel sorry for me and help me, thus giving me the opportunity to do what he wanted.

"I’ve come to realize how very wrong he is! He lied to me, Hank! I know that now! How he made you out to be is so far from the truth of what you really are! I’m sorry I went along with this!"

Hank couldn’t help but be moved by her confessions. He put a comforting hand on her shaking shoulder. "So I’m not going crazy?" He sounded extremely relieved. "That wasn’t me losing my mind and slamming my crew around, biting their heads off?"

"No, it was this drug Cal gave me to put in your coffee."

"Do you know what drug it is? What the lasting effects are?"

"No, just that Cal said it was untraceable. Hank, you went ballistic yesterday morning because I told Cal I wasn’t going to play his game anymore. I tossed the drug, but he had a more concentrated form he wanted me to use. I refused, but he must have put it in your coffee himself." Kate started crying. "I should have confessed earlier! You could have killed one of your crew! They didn’t tell me about the axe! I’m so sorry!"

Hank folded his arms around her and held her. "It’s all right, Kate. There’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re both victims here. You don’t know how relieved I am to know I didn’t do any permanent damage to anybody I care about, how glad I am to know I’m not going crazy! Thank you for telling me."

"I’m sorry, Hank!" Kate sobbed in his shoulder. "I’ll understand if you never want to see me again!"

"No, Kate, it wasn’t all you. Cal twisted your grief around."

"How can you talk like that? After what I did?"

"Maybe because I have very strong feelings for you."

Kate pushed herself back out of his arms, but stayed close enough so her hands still rested on his arms. "You do?"

"Yes. I care for you, Kate."

Hank seemed hesitant to say the words. Whether it was because he was afraid she didn’t reciprocate his feelings or because he felt guilty about his emotions towards her, Kate didn’t know. All she knew was that his words made her very happy. "I care for you, too, Hank," she stated sincerely.

A slow smile spread across his handsome face. "It’s a start, I guess," he said.

"But what about Cal? What about what you did?"

"I’ll have to go to the chief, of course," Hank stated. "I’ll have to report what Cal did." He gazed at her to judge her reaction.

Kate nodded. "Of course. I wish we could do this differently, but I know Cal won’t listen to reason."

"I’ll tell the chief everything I know." Hank thought a moment. "I want them all to know. The chief, my crew… after everything I’ve done to my crew, I wouldn’t blame them if they pressed charges against me."

"I’ll go, too," Kate offered.

"No!"

Confusion crossed Kate’s face. "Why not?"

"We don’t know what Cal will do if he finds out you’re involved! I won’t take the chance of you getting hurt."

"But, Hank—"

He gripped her shoulders gently. "Kate, I don’t want you around while this is going on! If Cal goes after you because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. Besides, I don’t want you to get into trouble for this. I know you never meant me harm, but the police may not see it that way."

Kate almost protested again; then she nodded. "Okay, I can stay with a friend of mine in Oregon. I’ll call her about coming up for a visit."

"Thank you."

"When do you plan on going back?"

"Later this morning."

"Hank, you need time to rest, to let the drug get out of your system."

"I’m already AWOL, Kate. If I stay away much longer, I may not have a job to go back to. Besides, if I hope to have a case against Cal, I’ve got to hope the doctors can trace whatever drug was in my system. Maybe some small amounts are still detectable."

"I understand," Kate nodded; she leaned into him and hugged him, "but be careful!"

"I will, I promise."

*~*~*~*~*

"Those are some pretty heavy accusations, Hank," McConnike stated, "especially against a fellow captain."

Chief Connor McConnike, the five members of Hank’s crew, Joe Early and Kel Brackett were sitting in Brackett’s office at Rampart General. It was early afternoon; Hank had just finished explaining everything that had happened to him, from what he remembered about the harsh way he had treated his men the past couple of weeks to his escape from Rampart the day before to what he and Kate had discussed.

Hank held his superior’s gaze and nodded. "Yes, sir, I know."

"It would certainly explain a lot of things that happened," Marco interjected. He seemed relieved that they finally had a reason, besides losing his mind, that their captain had gone crazy. "Those things you said and did just weren’t you, Cap."

"Yeah," Roy added, "and by the afternoon, you were acting pretty much normal. We couldn’t figure it out."

"Some days you seemed to come out of the mood faster than others," Johnny remarked, "and we never had any problems with you on a run. Of course, Roy and I didn’t work with you as much as the engine crew." He looked to his partner for confirmation.

Roy nodded agreement as he noted, "It seemed to clear up faster on days we had lots of calls."

"Maybe the drug wore off with adrenaline?" Joe Early suggested.

Brackett fiddled with his pen, rolling it between his fingers as he thought about what was being said. "You have no name for this drug, Hank? We ran several blood tests and nothing’s shown up as being unusual."

"My friend says it’s untraceable unless you know what to test for."

"Your friend," McConnike repeated. "Hank, this would be more believable if ‘your friend’ came forward and confessed."

Hank shook his head. "I’m not getting her into trouble. She’s been through enough."

"I have a pretty good idea who you’re talking about, Hank. I could have her subpoenaed," the chief threatened.

"Don’t, Chief," the captain insisted, "she can’t tell you any more than I can at this point. I know if you can’t trace this drug, then it’s just my word against Cal’s. Case closed."

McConnike sighed. "That’s about right, Hank. But there is the question of you retaining your job. The top brass doesn’t take kindly to their captains freaking out and beating up their crewmen. Without any evidence of drugs to back up your actions, an investigation board can toss you out of the department so fast, despite your excellent record, you won’t know what hit you."

Mike spoke up. "But in order for there to even be an investigation, wouldn’t charges have to be filed first?" He glanced at his shift-mates. "As far as I know, we’re the only ones Captain Stanley had… words… with."

"Yeah," Chet added, "and none of us are planning on making any trouble."

"I haven’t had any problems with Captain Stanley," Johnny stated with a sharp nod of his head.

"Me, neither," Roy stated.

"No problems here," Marco agreed.

Hank swallowed as his men spoke up. He didn’t think they’d go this far to protect him. He looked at his engineer. "But, Mike, I gave you that black eye. How can you not make an issue of it? I wouldn’t blame you if you did, pal."

Mike shrugged. "Wouldn’t be the first time I sustained an injury on the job."

"I’d say there’s no case for an investigation board, Chief," Joe remarked.

"I’d say you’re right, Dr. Early," McConnike looked at Hank. "No charges, no investigation. You’ve got to be doing something right with this crew for them to be willing to go to the mat for you, Hank."

"I guess so, Chief." Hank smiled slightly.

"Unfortunately, like you said, without any proof or witnesses to verify your story, there’s not much we can do about Calvin Adams. I’ll keep your story under advisement, however, and we can try to keep an eye on him."

"I’d appreciate that, Chief."

McConnike looked at the physicians. "Dr. Brackett, Dr. Early, I’d like you two to give Hank a full physical and let me know if he’s cleared for duty."

Kel leaned forward in his chair. "We’d be happy to."

"We can draw more blood while we’re at it and see if we can find traces of this drug," Joe added. "I’d really like to prove without a shadow of a doubt that these psychotic episodes weren’t the result of your going ‘round the bend, Hank."

"Me, too, Doc, me, too."

*~*~*~*~*

Several days passed. Hank was permitted to return to the job he loved and things seemed to fall back into routine. Word came down from Chief McConnike that Calvin Adams had disappeared. This concerned Hank, who feared for Kate’s safety? His men, however, convinced him that she was in the best possible place, away from Los Angeles for the time being. Hank soon found his attention focused elsewhere when the day approached for his daughters to return to him. He was glad the whole episode with Cal Adams had gotten cleared up before they got back.

At least, Hank thought it was over.

Hank met his daughters at the airport terminal. The twins practically flew into his arms; he gave them the biggest hugs he could muster. "I’ve missed you!" he commented as they pulled back. "How was your trip?"

"It was fun!" Darcy admitted. "I think Grandma really wanted us to stay longer."

"Yeah, it was okay, but we knew we had to get back to you, Dad!" Tracy added. Always the tomboy of the two, she wore a Chicago Cubs baseball hat. "But Grandma said she’d see us real soon."

"Oh, she did?" I wonder what’s going on? Hank wondered.

Darcy grabbed her father’s hand. "Can we go to the beach this afternoon? I missed seeing the ocean!"

Hank smiled. "Sure, Kitten, whatever you want. Sport?"

"Sounds like fun. Let’s go!" Tracy grabbed her father’s other hand and, together, she and her sister guided Hank through the airport.

Ethel, what are you up to? He thought briefly before allowing his excited daughters to distract his attention by telling him all the things they had done in Chicago and what they wanted to do now that they were home.

*~*~*~*~*

Hank found out what his in-laws were up to soon enough. By mid-morning of his next shift at the station, he found out more than he wanted about the lengths Elly’s parents would go to gain custody of his daughters.

Hank was in the kitchen when the door buzzer went off. He heard one of his crew, already in the apparatus bay, offer to answer it. A few moments later, a man dressed in a dark suit and carrying a briefcase followed Roy into the day room. Hank stood as soon as the two entered the room. "Richard."

"Hello, Hank." The two shook hands.

"What brings you?" The captain asked. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks, Hank. Could we step into your office?"

"Sure." Hank stepped around his paramedic and led the man out of the day room.

Chet waited until the two men left the room before looking at Roy. "Who’s the guy in the suit?"

"Richard Bartholomew, Cap’s attorney."

"Attorney? I wonder what’s up?"

"I don’t know, but I have a feeling it’s not good news."

Continue

Back