Watch Me Burn
copyright 2011, Enfleurage
Chapter 5
He'd been worried about sleeplessness and nightmares but they'd slept the dense, deep sleep of the emotionally drained. Or they had until the Squad was toned out at 04:17 for a possible choking.
In a sleepy voice, Roy had said, "We got it, Cap" as Stanley was pulling on his bunker pants, so he crawled back into his bed and listened to the other three men settle back into their beds. Lying on his back, he listened to the Squad's engine start, the bay doors creak their way open, the Squad pull out and the bay doors creak their way back down. He listened for the soft noises that were part of sharing sleeping quarters with other firemen, with other sleeping firemen. He was still waiting to hear those noises when he drifted back to sleep.
An hour later, he woke suddenly and thought that he should probably insist that they get the bay door fixed so it wouldn't make so much noise, especially in the middle of the night, and then he remembered why he'd let it go the previous times. He felt himself relax as he heard the Squad pull in, its engine shut down and then the soft snick of doors opening and being pushed closed with a click rather than a metallic clang. Muted voices, still somewhat gravelly, were too quiet for him to make out most of the words but he heard footsteps and an occasional word as they came through the locker room.
"Just tired…." Gage said. "…. the stupidity…"
He heard Roy's voice, too soft to make out any of the words but the tone was conciliatory and supportive.
"On his own vomit, Roy," Gage insisted. "In front of his kids."
Well that explains the smell, Hank thought. And then he wondered which would be worse: the noise of the shower or the smell that the two paramedics had carried back to the Station. Mentally groaning, he rolled out of bed and into his bunker pants and boots, half stumbling into the locker room as he pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He blinked and held up a hand as protection from the sudden onslaught of light, muted through it was.
"Sorry, Cap, did we wake you?" Roy said in a quiet voice.
Stanley rubbed his nose. "Not exactly."
"Oh," Gage said, and looked down at his bunker pants. "Sorry, Cap, I kind of knelt in it and it just doesn't seem to want to come out."
Sleepily rubbing the heel of his hand against his right eye, Stanley squinted at Gage and nodded at the stain that covered the knee and shin area of Gage's left leg.
"You have an extra pair?" he asked without any real expectation that would be the solution. Uniforms, sure, all of them kept at least one extra uniform as backup in their lockers. Bunker pants were supposed to be semi-indestructible.
Gage shook his head.
"Okay, do me a favor, take those into the shower and use a scrub brush and soap. I'll find you an extra pair you can use if we go out again tonight." They kept a few with the spare turnouts, for those rare occasions when they were needed. "A drunk?"
Roy nodded sadly. "Alcoholic. Pretty bad. By the time we got there, he'd aspirated some of it..."
Hank sighed.
"In front of his kids," Gage said in a tight whisper, keeping his voice down. "He choked to death on his own vomit, in front of his kids, Cap. Who the hell does that?"
"People who need more help than you or I can give them, John," he said. "Maybe more than any other human being can give them. Go hit the shower, okay, pal?"
He stood with Roy and watched Gage slink off to the shower.
"I can find the extra bunkers, Cap."
"I know, Roy." He gave him a crooked smile. "Just like I know I should get the…."
"…bay door fixed," they said together.
Stanley lifted his arms above his head and stretched. "Go grab a set of the extra bunkers and have John put the smelly ones in the utility closet. I'll give you five minutes, ten max, to hit the rack."
Roy nodded.
"Don't make me come looking for you," he warned and then headed back to bed.
He was in a half-drowsy, half-awake state when they came in, just aware enough to register their presence and their movement, which was enough to let him slide back into sleep.
It seemed only five minutes later that the wake-up tones went off.
~E~
"Jeez, Gage, the utility closet stinks like a college frat house during pledge week," Kelly yelled and his voice echoed around the bay.
In the midst of dipping bread into the egg mixture that would make it French Toast, Roy turned around and looked at his shift mates in varying slumped positions around the kitchen table. "Do I really want to know how he knows what that smells like?"
"I can't believe he hasn't told you that story," Marco said in a low voice, hunched, bleary-eyed over his coffee cup. "Whatever you do, do not ask him how he knows…"
"How the hell would you know what a college frat house smells like?" Gage yelled back from the bay, and then turned and walked into the day room, grinning his good mornings.
Marco sagged and muttered something underneath his breath and Stanley echoed the sentiment even if he hadn't made out the actual words. The steam and the smell of the coffee was enough to block the worst of the smell from the utility closet and he lingered over his own cup, delaying the inevitable walk to his office where he needed to start writing up a report on last night's run while it was still fresh in his head. As if he hadn't revisited it enough already.
And then Chet Kelly came through the door. "You really want to know?"
"Kelly, give it a rest," he grumbled at the same time Mike, Marco and Roy all said 'No,' with particular emphasis from Marco.
"Well, I'll tell you…"
"How about you cut Gage some slack since he saved all of our lives last night, huh, pal?"
"Pretty sure he saved your life, Cap. I would have rabbited out of there before that guy finished pulling the trigger. Besides, you cut Gage enough slack for both of us."
It was too early for this, for dealing coherently with an annoyingly well-rested and energized Chet Kelly
"Kelly, when I told you to give it a rest, that wasn't a suggestion."
"Just trying to get things back to normal around here, Cap."
"Well, try it with a little less volume," he heard murmurs of approval from everyone who wasn't Kelly, "or I'll task you with getting the stink out of those bunker pants." Palms flat on the kitchen table, he pushed his way to his feet and snagged the coffee cup for a refill before he tackled the paperwork he'd delayed long enough.
"Aw, Cap!"
He gave Kelly the best glare he could summon under the circumstances and refilled his coffee. "Roy, give me a shout when you have breakfast on the table, will you?"
The smell of sizzling bacon and the French Toast crisping in the skillet on the cooktop was a distraction he didn't really need as he stared at the form on his desk. He'd filled in the easy stuff, the bare bone facts of the run almost automatically and was trying to determine exactly how much detail to include. Maybe he could just get a copy of his statement from Crockett and attach it. Heck, he should get a copy of all of their statements and attach them so Headquarters would get a truly complete picture.
He hadn't made up his mind about whether to bring in the crisis counselors yet. Things seemed as if they were already getting back to normal and he'd planned to keep an eye on the guys over the next couple of shifts and see what demons got unearthed. It wasn't as if they all hadn't previously dealt with unfathomable cruelty between people who were supposed to love each other. It happened more often than any of them would ever tell their wives or family members and at least this run didn't involve children.
The shrill jangling of the phone jarred him out of his thoughts and he glanced at the clock and the partially completed report with dismay. The longer he took to get this done, the longer he'd be at the station today and what he really needed was some real sleep in his own bed and if he was particularly lucky, maybe his wife would join him.
"LA County Fire Department, Captain Stanley."
And then he wondered if Lt. Crockett had gotten any sleep whatsoever last night.
"Huh…. Yes, well that's unexpected…. Okay, we'll still come down and review and sign our statements…. Thanks for calling, Lieutenant."
As he replaced the receiver, Roy yelled from the day room that breakfast was up and his stomach growled, which he took as another sign that things were getting back to normal.
Like a lot of firefighters, he viewed meals as a time to eat, not talk, since there was no guarantee they'd actually get to finish what they were eating when they were eating it and plenty of time to talk on the way to the next call. Of course that particular philosophy didn't hold true for everyone and he half-listened to the conversation that floated back and forth across the table as he finished his meal.
So close to end of shift, none of them were going to jinx getting called out by actually talking about it so he chose his words carefully.
"Great breakfast, Roy, thanks." He leaned back in his chair to stretch out the kinks and his body complained about the bruises he'd picked up last night. "Listen up, guys." He waited until Kelly stopped sniping at Gage long enough to turn an innocent expression in his direction. "I wanted to remind all of you to stop by on your way home and read over your statements. If it isn't right, do not sign it. Make the clerk or whoever retype it to fix the statement before you sign it because it becomes a legal record so take the extra time to get it right. Also, I want you to get a copy of it for my report."
Heads nodded and a couple of eyes were raised to the clock on the wall as the next shift started wandering in, headed to the locker room.
Hell, he was going to have to repeat the whole damn story for Ben Collins, B-Shift's Captain.
"So, you think all of us are gonna have to go to court?" Gage asked as he reached for the last piece of French Toast on the table. "To testify against that guy?"
"Nope." He shifted in his seat, still trying to get comfortable. "As it turns out, none of us are going to have to testify against Mr. Mathers. That call I got a few minutes back was from Lt. Crockett."
"Seriously?" Gage sounded more surprised than pleased.
"Did he sign a confession?" Stoker asked.
"Yeah, let's make sure he confessed to more than weapons possession and menacing," Gage said, eyes narrowing and expression going dark. "It better be Attempted Murder times seven."
"Attempted Murder?" Kelly rolled his eyes. "Get real, Gage. Him waving a gun at us does not constitute Attempted Murder."
"Listen up!" Stanley waited until he had their attention. "There's not going to be any trial because they aren't going to be any changes," he kept talking right over the sudden uproar, "because apparently sometime last night after the District Attorney's office informed Mr. Mathers that this time, his wife was going to press charges, and that they had signed statements from the six of us, he decided to take his own life."
That shut them up.
"Seriously?" Gage sounded a lot more tentative this time.
"Gage, is there anything about what I just said that sounded like I was joking?"
"Well, no, Cap, it's just…"
Yeah, he did know so he let out a slow exhale, a subtle form of communication for the rest of them to take a minute and was relieved when each did so, in his own way.
"It's an ugly ending to an ugly incident, I know. You know what they say: an ordinary day for us is usually the worst day of their lives for the people we help."
He watched them absorb the news for a bit, noticed Roy seeking out Gage's eyes and the two paramedics communicating silently with each other, while Marco was elbowing Chet to get him to look back at him.
"This one was a little worse than normal, Cap," Stoker said, and Stanley was pretty sure that was less Stoker's typical understatement and more a deliberate opening for the rest of the shift to join in.
"For all of us, Mike." He waited for someone else to follow-up on Stoker's statement but they were quiet. "The Chief and I talked about bringing in a crisis counselor…" and heads starting jerking back in his direction when he said those words, "and I told him that I'd get back to him. This one wasn't a normal day for us, guys, and it's a damn sight better to talk to an objective person who has some idea of what we see rather than expecting your wife," with a glance at Roy, "or your family, friends or girlfriends to understand. You can make an appointment on your own but if I think it's necessary, I'll bring someone in to talk to us as a group or send anyone that I think needs it." Five glum faces looked back at him. "Got it?"
Based on the noise from the locker room, it sounded as if most of B-shift had arrived and Ben Collins walked into the kitchen, eyes landing on the dirty breakfast dishes still on the table. "You guys look like something Stoker dragged behind the engine."
Surprisingly it was Roy who replied, "You have no idea."
Collins' attention swung back to Stanley, who gave him a nod, confirming Roy's statement, and a tilt of his head towards the office, a promise to fill him in, privately.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Collins called back over his shoulder. "You know, Hank, my guys are all here." He was casual about it, though he had to be aware of the instant charge he'd introduced to the room. "How about you guys clean up your breakfast dishes and head out. We'll take any calls that come in, starting," he glanced at his wristwatch, "right about now."
Stanley glanced around at his men, all of whom were visibly leaking tension and exchanging glances of pure relief.
"We'd appreciate that, Ben. How about you and I catch up on a few things while the rest of you," he looked around and met each man's gaze, "clean up and go home."
And just like that, they were off duty.
In a sleepy voice, Roy had said, "We got it, Cap" as Stanley was pulling on his bunker pants, so he crawled back into his bed and listened to the other three men settle back into their beds. Lying on his back, he listened to the Squad's engine start, the bay doors creak their way open, the Squad pull out and the bay doors creak their way back down. He listened for the soft noises that were part of sharing sleeping quarters with other firemen, with other sleeping firemen. He was still waiting to hear those noises when he drifted back to sleep.
An hour later, he woke suddenly and thought that he should probably insist that they get the bay door fixed so it wouldn't make so much noise, especially in the middle of the night, and then he remembered why he'd let it go the previous times. He felt himself relax as he heard the Squad pull in, its engine shut down and then the soft snick of doors opening and being pushed closed with a click rather than a metallic clang. Muted voices, still somewhat gravelly, were too quiet for him to make out most of the words but he heard footsteps and an occasional word as they came through the locker room.
"Just tired…." Gage said. "…. the stupidity…"
He heard Roy's voice, too soft to make out any of the words but the tone was conciliatory and supportive.
"On his own vomit, Roy," Gage insisted. "In front of his kids."
Well that explains the smell, Hank thought. And then he wondered which would be worse: the noise of the shower or the smell that the two paramedics had carried back to the Station. Mentally groaning, he rolled out of bed and into his bunker pants and boots, half stumbling into the locker room as he pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He blinked and held up a hand as protection from the sudden onslaught of light, muted through it was.
"Sorry, Cap, did we wake you?" Roy said in a quiet voice.
Stanley rubbed his nose. "Not exactly."
"Oh," Gage said, and looked down at his bunker pants. "Sorry, Cap, I kind of knelt in it and it just doesn't seem to want to come out."
Sleepily rubbing the heel of his hand against his right eye, Stanley squinted at Gage and nodded at the stain that covered the knee and shin area of Gage's left leg.
"You have an extra pair?" he asked without any real expectation that would be the solution. Uniforms, sure, all of them kept at least one extra uniform as backup in their lockers. Bunker pants were supposed to be semi-indestructible.
Gage shook his head.
"Okay, do me a favor, take those into the shower and use a scrub brush and soap. I'll find you an extra pair you can use if we go out again tonight." They kept a few with the spare turnouts, for those rare occasions when they were needed. "A drunk?"
Roy nodded sadly. "Alcoholic. Pretty bad. By the time we got there, he'd aspirated some of it..."
Hank sighed.
"In front of his kids," Gage said in a tight whisper, keeping his voice down. "He choked to death on his own vomit, in front of his kids, Cap. Who the hell does that?"
"People who need more help than you or I can give them, John," he said. "Maybe more than any other human being can give them. Go hit the shower, okay, pal?"
He stood with Roy and watched Gage slink off to the shower.
"I can find the extra bunkers, Cap."
"I know, Roy." He gave him a crooked smile. "Just like I know I should get the…."
"…bay door fixed," they said together.
Stanley lifted his arms above his head and stretched. "Go grab a set of the extra bunkers and have John put the smelly ones in the utility closet. I'll give you five minutes, ten max, to hit the rack."
Roy nodded.
"Don't make me come looking for you," he warned and then headed back to bed.
He was in a half-drowsy, half-awake state when they came in, just aware enough to register their presence and their movement, which was enough to let him slide back into sleep.
It seemed only five minutes later that the wake-up tones went off.
~E~
"Jeez, Gage, the utility closet stinks like a college frat house during pledge week," Kelly yelled and his voice echoed around the bay.
In the midst of dipping bread into the egg mixture that would make it French Toast, Roy turned around and looked at his shift mates in varying slumped positions around the kitchen table. "Do I really want to know how he knows what that smells like?"
"I can't believe he hasn't told you that story," Marco said in a low voice, hunched, bleary-eyed over his coffee cup. "Whatever you do, do not ask him how he knows…"
"How the hell would you know what a college frat house smells like?" Gage yelled back from the bay, and then turned and walked into the day room, grinning his good mornings.
Marco sagged and muttered something underneath his breath and Stanley echoed the sentiment even if he hadn't made out the actual words. The steam and the smell of the coffee was enough to block the worst of the smell from the utility closet and he lingered over his own cup, delaying the inevitable walk to his office where he needed to start writing up a report on last night's run while it was still fresh in his head. As if he hadn't revisited it enough already.
And then Chet Kelly came through the door. "You really want to know?"
"Kelly, give it a rest," he grumbled at the same time Mike, Marco and Roy all said 'No,' with particular emphasis from Marco.
"Well, I'll tell you…"
"How about you cut Gage some slack since he saved all of our lives last night, huh, pal?"
"Pretty sure he saved your life, Cap. I would have rabbited out of there before that guy finished pulling the trigger. Besides, you cut Gage enough slack for both of us."
It was too early for this, for dealing coherently with an annoyingly well-rested and energized Chet Kelly
"Kelly, when I told you to give it a rest, that wasn't a suggestion."
"Just trying to get things back to normal around here, Cap."
"Well, try it with a little less volume," he heard murmurs of approval from everyone who wasn't Kelly, "or I'll task you with getting the stink out of those bunker pants." Palms flat on the kitchen table, he pushed his way to his feet and snagged the coffee cup for a refill before he tackled the paperwork he'd delayed long enough.
"Aw, Cap!"
He gave Kelly the best glare he could summon under the circumstances and refilled his coffee. "Roy, give me a shout when you have breakfast on the table, will you?"
The smell of sizzling bacon and the French Toast crisping in the skillet on the cooktop was a distraction he didn't really need as he stared at the form on his desk. He'd filled in the easy stuff, the bare bone facts of the run almost automatically and was trying to determine exactly how much detail to include. Maybe he could just get a copy of his statement from Crockett and attach it. Heck, he should get a copy of all of their statements and attach them so Headquarters would get a truly complete picture.
He hadn't made up his mind about whether to bring in the crisis counselors yet. Things seemed as if they were already getting back to normal and he'd planned to keep an eye on the guys over the next couple of shifts and see what demons got unearthed. It wasn't as if they all hadn't previously dealt with unfathomable cruelty between people who were supposed to love each other. It happened more often than any of them would ever tell their wives or family members and at least this run didn't involve children.
The shrill jangling of the phone jarred him out of his thoughts and he glanced at the clock and the partially completed report with dismay. The longer he took to get this done, the longer he'd be at the station today and what he really needed was some real sleep in his own bed and if he was particularly lucky, maybe his wife would join him.
"LA County Fire Department, Captain Stanley."
And then he wondered if Lt. Crockett had gotten any sleep whatsoever last night.
"Huh…. Yes, well that's unexpected…. Okay, we'll still come down and review and sign our statements…. Thanks for calling, Lieutenant."
As he replaced the receiver, Roy yelled from the day room that breakfast was up and his stomach growled, which he took as another sign that things were getting back to normal.
Like a lot of firefighters, he viewed meals as a time to eat, not talk, since there was no guarantee they'd actually get to finish what they were eating when they were eating it and plenty of time to talk on the way to the next call. Of course that particular philosophy didn't hold true for everyone and he half-listened to the conversation that floated back and forth across the table as he finished his meal.
So close to end of shift, none of them were going to jinx getting called out by actually talking about it so he chose his words carefully.
"Great breakfast, Roy, thanks." He leaned back in his chair to stretch out the kinks and his body complained about the bruises he'd picked up last night. "Listen up, guys." He waited until Kelly stopped sniping at Gage long enough to turn an innocent expression in his direction. "I wanted to remind all of you to stop by on your way home and read over your statements. If it isn't right, do not sign it. Make the clerk or whoever retype it to fix the statement before you sign it because it becomes a legal record so take the extra time to get it right. Also, I want you to get a copy of it for my report."
Heads nodded and a couple of eyes were raised to the clock on the wall as the next shift started wandering in, headed to the locker room.
Hell, he was going to have to repeat the whole damn story for Ben Collins, B-Shift's Captain.
"So, you think all of us are gonna have to go to court?" Gage asked as he reached for the last piece of French Toast on the table. "To testify against that guy?"
"Nope." He shifted in his seat, still trying to get comfortable. "As it turns out, none of us are going to have to testify against Mr. Mathers. That call I got a few minutes back was from Lt. Crockett."
"Seriously?" Gage sounded more surprised than pleased.
"Did he sign a confession?" Stoker asked.
"Yeah, let's make sure he confessed to more than weapons possession and menacing," Gage said, eyes narrowing and expression going dark. "It better be Attempted Murder times seven."
"Attempted Murder?" Kelly rolled his eyes. "Get real, Gage. Him waving a gun at us does not constitute Attempted Murder."
"Listen up!" Stanley waited until he had their attention. "There's not going to be any trial because they aren't going to be any changes," he kept talking right over the sudden uproar, "because apparently sometime last night after the District Attorney's office informed Mr. Mathers that this time, his wife was going to press charges, and that they had signed statements from the six of us, he decided to take his own life."
That shut them up.
"Seriously?" Gage sounded a lot more tentative this time.
"Gage, is there anything about what I just said that sounded like I was joking?"
"Well, no, Cap, it's just…"
Yeah, he did know so he let out a slow exhale, a subtle form of communication for the rest of them to take a minute and was relieved when each did so, in his own way.
"It's an ugly ending to an ugly incident, I know. You know what they say: an ordinary day for us is usually the worst day of their lives for the people we help."
He watched them absorb the news for a bit, noticed Roy seeking out Gage's eyes and the two paramedics communicating silently with each other, while Marco was elbowing Chet to get him to look back at him.
"This one was a little worse than normal, Cap," Stoker said, and Stanley was pretty sure that was less Stoker's typical understatement and more a deliberate opening for the rest of the shift to join in.
"For all of us, Mike." He waited for someone else to follow-up on Stoker's statement but they were quiet. "The Chief and I talked about bringing in a crisis counselor…" and heads starting jerking back in his direction when he said those words, "and I told him that I'd get back to him. This one wasn't a normal day for us, guys, and it's a damn sight better to talk to an objective person who has some idea of what we see rather than expecting your wife," with a glance at Roy, "or your family, friends or girlfriends to understand. You can make an appointment on your own but if I think it's necessary, I'll bring someone in to talk to us as a group or send anyone that I think needs it." Five glum faces looked back at him. "Got it?"
Based on the noise from the locker room, it sounded as if most of B-shift had arrived and Ben Collins walked into the kitchen, eyes landing on the dirty breakfast dishes still on the table. "You guys look like something Stoker dragged behind the engine."
Surprisingly it was Roy who replied, "You have no idea."
Collins' attention swung back to Stanley, who gave him a nod, confirming Roy's statement, and a tilt of his head towards the office, a promise to fill him in, privately.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Collins called back over his shoulder. "You know, Hank, my guys are all here." He was casual about it, though he had to be aware of the instant charge he'd introduced to the room. "How about you guys clean up your breakfast dishes and head out. We'll take any calls that come in, starting," he glanced at his wristwatch, "right about now."
Stanley glanced around at his men, all of whom were visibly leaking tension and exchanging glances of pure relief.
"We'd appreciate that, Ben. How about you and I catch up on a few things while the rest of you," he looked around and met each man's gaze, "clean up and go home."
And just like that, they were off duty.
Final Author Notes:
Thanks for sticking with the story through the end. For those who are wondering, this is the closest I'll ever get to writing a songfic and it was indeed somewhat inspired by "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminen & Rhianna. You never know what will spark inspiration for a story.
Special points to those who noticed that the guy who tried to kill his wife was finally named in the Epilogue and his name was Mathers (Eminen's real last name) and no, I'm not much of a rap fan but that's an unnervingly powerful song.
Thanks for sticking with the story through the end. For those who are wondering, this is the closest I'll ever get to writing a songfic and it was indeed somewhat inspired by "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminen & Rhianna. You never know what will spark inspiration for a story.
Special points to those who noticed that the guy who tried to kill his wife was finally named in the Epilogue and his name was Mathers (Eminen's real last name) and no, I'm not much of a rap fan but that's an unnervingly powerful song.
