Work Text:
Pulling off his air mask, Brice sucked in a deep breath. The air wasn’t clean or clear, still reeked of smoke, but it was nice to have his face out of the mask. He’d practically been wearing it nonstop since he arrived early in the morning with his current station. The guys at 43s had been polite but not necessarily kind, had worked with him and tolerated him, but that was as far as it went. They weren’t friends. They were just barely coworkers. Even at this time, in the middle of a brutal brush fire, they all huddled around the engine, leaving Brice alone at the squad.
He sighed quietly. It is not as though I did not expect it. It was a poorly kept secret that no one liked Brice. He knew it as well as anyone else. After all, Craig Brice was anything but stupid, and he was certainly not hard of hearing. He heard what everyone had to say about him. Know-it-all. Freak. Retard. Dickhead. They were nothing new. He’d put up with such insults all his life, and he wasn’t about to let them get to him now. I am a paramedic. I can do things most of the department cannot. Brice tried not to let that give him a superiority complex, but when people kept treating him as if he did, he figured he might as well live up to expectations.
They went back to work after their short respite, the flames sweeping back and encroaching on their northern exposure once more. Brice was paired with Dorset, so the two picked up their line and trudged forward into battle. The day was generally cool, but between the flames and the exertion, Brice was soaked with sweat under his turnouts. Still, even drenched in perspiration and with aching muscles, he loved it. There are few things I would say I love. This job is one of them. He loved knowing he was doing something good, something that was useful, something that made an immediate impact in a person’s life. Brice tapped Dorset on the shoulder to take the lead.
Firemen started emerging from the smoke ahead, and a captain told them, “Fellas, you better back it up! Damn wind shifted again! We’re lucky we moved in time!”
The line shifted in Brice’s hands as Dorset followed the advice and backed up, Brice carefully following. Looking up, he saw the wind whipping through the smoke, saw the way it shifted.
“Dorset, I suggest we prepare for more spotting,” Brice announced.
Dorset didn’t argue with him. He simply allowed Brice to make the necessary adjustments. Flames blew in ahead of them, making both men jump before fixing their efforts on beating them back. Brice focused on the flames. Wildfires were amazingly similar to housefires, at least in the way the flames looked. When he first joined the department, he somehow thought they would be more dissimilar, and while that was true of the technologies used to fight them, the flames looked like any other flames. They were coming much closer now, but Brice held his ground. He would not allow Mother Nature to win. She has already won, of course. This area will be a wasteland. He held his ground.
“Hey, Brice, c’mon! We gotta get outta here, man!” Dorset shouted.
“Agreed.”
They picked up their line and hurried back to their staging area. Brice watched the flames engulf the spot where they’d been standing, felt strangely calm, almost at peace. Smoke billowed up into the sky, thick and black. He stood by himself again, but he was alright. He just waited for his orders for further action. In the meantime, he was content to watch nature’s awesome power.
“Brice, you seen Fischer?”
“Fischer is not with the rest of you?” he replied.
Dorset swore, said, “Chow said he came over here. You’re sure you didn’t see him?”
“I have been quite alone since we returned. I would have seen him if he came over.”
He swore again. Captain Ramos came over, too, asking the same question. Brice gave the same answer.
“I’m gettin’ antsy, is all. He’s been gone for nearly ten minutes.”
“Where exactly did he say he was going?” Brice asked.
“He only said he was headed this way… somethin’ about takin’ a leak, I think.”
Brice quickly ran through all the scenarios in his mind. Perhaps Fischer had simply gotten turned around and was somewhere along the road, confused but alive. That was the best case. The worst case, however… The worst case was that he’d wandered the wrong way. The flames cast a fearful orange glow over everything. Brice explained the two scenarios to Ramos.
“Chow! Go check along the road back here! Fischer mighta just wandered off!”
Brice’s stomach gave a little flop. We cannot go into that fire just now. I am no coward, but it is ridiculous to waste multiple lives in search of one. They would have to wait until the fire died down. Wait until Chow returns, at least.
“Cap, he ain’t up there,” Chow stated when he finally returned, “I went up and down both sides just to make sure he didn’t fall in a ditch or some shit. Nothin’.”
Everyone turned to the blaze. The wind had shifted again, the flames gone from their immediate vicinity, retreating back to better ground. Brice knew what was coming.
“Alright, fellas, let’s go find Fischer,” Ramos said, “Stay alert. If ya feel like somethin’s about to go south, it probably is, so get outta there. Let’s go, fellas.”
Brice readjusted his air mask and tank, hoping they’d find Fischer alive. As they marched forward, he couldn’t help but wonder… if he were the one missing, would anyone make an effort to find him? He pushed the thought away as his heart thumped uncomfortably. They split up and trekked further into the charred landscape. Everything looked so black and burned and lifeless. It almost looked alien. It is incredible to think this is not the end for this place. Brice shook himself, had to focus on the task at hand. Fischer was still missing, after all. They had to find him.
A haze of smoke hung over everything, but Brice still pulled off his air mask, feeling trapped behind it after wearing it so long. There was a breeze blowing some fresh air in, so he didn’t feel too bad removing it. Brice paused to look around the barren landscape. He could barely hear the other firemen calling Fischer’s name, their voices muffled, and he gave a shout of his own. Shouting will not help if Fischer is unable to respond. Perhaps he is unconscious. He tried not to think of the other possibility.
Brice cast his gaze at the ground, seeking any sign of Fischer’s presence, hoping to find a footprint or piece of equipment or anything to help point him the right way. He stopped again after another few yards or so. Think, Brice. That is what you pride yourself on, after all. Take in all the facts and seek the correct solution. What would he do if he were in this situation? What precautions would he take to ensure his own safety?
Fischer could have gone for the lee side of the hill, but that would have brought him back to the rest of the crew. Not that scenario, then. Having gone this way, perhaps confronted with fire, he would’ve made himself safe. The hottest air would go high, so Fischer would go low, would find a ditch or a hole to take cover in. In this scorched landscape, it wouldn’t need to be for very long because there was no fuel left. So look low. Brice shrugged off his air tank and began looking low. There weren’t any natural ditches, so Fischer would’ve had to dig his own. Brice dropped down and searched the ground. Even here, anything man-made would be evident.
Shit. When he finally got to his feet again, he realized how far he’d moved. Stupid… very stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, only what he was looking for. And now I’m lost. He fought down the wave of panic. It wouldn’t do him any good, and he needed to focus on getting back…not that he even knew which way he had to go to return to his crew. The panic was coming back. I don’t have my air tank, either. He kicked himself for being so stupid, so forgetful. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, making him jumpy and anxious. He hissed out a swear. He couldn’t even wayfind with anything from the sky, not with all this smoke swirling. Turning back, he cast his gaze down. I am not having the best of days. I left a trail. I can simply follow that back to the crew.
Brice turned, ready to head back, but he didn’t go. Fischer was still missing. He couldn’t go when someone still needed help. He looked ahead, followed his line of sight, continued his search. The other shouts were completely gone now. Brice just stayed low, examining everything that looked suspicious.
A loud crack sounded above him. He didn’t have time to move. Brice cried out as pain exploded across his back and his body was slammed to the ground. Again, not paying attention had cost him. He shouted for help, managed to move the branch off his back, had enough sense to make sure everything was still in working order before getting to his feet. He groaned, winced, double-checked everything. Nothing felt broken, so that was good, but it all still hurt pretty bad. Brice called out again. No response. He took in a deep breath, coughed harshly, and looked around. Smoke twisted up into the sky. His back throbbed.
Fear flooded his senses. Every bad scenario he could think of stormed through his brain, screaming at him that he was about to die. Logically, he knew this to be false, but the fear was overpowering even his logic. He’d never felt like this before. His chest was painfully tight, heaving as he tried to breathe, squeezing his lungs. The charred landscape felt like it was closing in around him. No one is coming for me. Brice sucked in a gasp, tears burning in his eyes. No one will come for me. He turned rapidly, as if looking for someone he knew wasn’t there. He took a few shaky steps, tripped, hit the ground hard, the impact knocking over a pile of debris on top of him.
The smell of woodsmoke sat heavy in his nose and throat. For once, Brice felt utterly defeated. He’d borne so much disdain and mistreatment and bullying that he thought he could do anything. His father, even if he’d loved his middle child least, did still love him and had shown him how to rise above such feelings of hopelessness. Brice pulled in a shuddering breath, coughed, blinked back tears. His father taught him men don’t cry. They were always supposed to be strong and never show weakness of any kind, especially not tears. To use an uncouth phrase, that’s bullshit. Crying was just a way for the body to release excess emotions, a perfectly natural reaction to stress and sadness.
So Brice allowed himself to cry. There was no piteous keening or heartrending sobbing, just the quiet tears that accompanied hopelessness and fear. The fire department was supposed to be a place where everyone was loyal to one another, was supposed to be a brotherhood, a place of belonging. Brice was supposed to find a home here, yet he found himself just as ostracized as he was everywhere else. He gave a quiet sob, feeling the tears roll down his face. No one was going to come looking for him when they didn’t like him, and he knew that when he finally made it back to basecamp, it would be to a disappointed, “Oh, there you are, Brice,” and nothing more. So he allowed himself the temporary comfort of tears, his body shuddering as he tried not to cough.
Something touched the debris pile, shifting it slightly. Brice gasped, shot up, and jerked away from the thing touching him, which gave a loud yelp. Gage… Blinking at his fellow paramedic, he stilled, unsure of why this particular person was here.
“Gage? Is-? Is that you?”
“Yeah… yeah, it’s me, Brice,” he answered, clearly still shaken by Brice’s sudden movement, “You okay-“
Brice did not allow him to finish his sentence. Relief flooded through his body, and his usual reservedness went out the window as he threw his arms around Gage’s middle, face pressed to Gage’s shoulder. He felt himself shivering. Someone came for me. He couldn’t help himself. He was just so happy to see another human being, another person who actually cared about his wellbeing.
“Hey… C’mon, pal, you’re alright,” Gage said quietly, “I got ya… You’re safe now…”
“I thought…” Brice murmured, “I was certain I was going to die. I thought-“
“We wouldn’t let that happen. You’re not gonna die.”
“I thought no one would come for me.”
He surprised himself when he spoke those words, spoke them so quietly he barely heard himself. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he told Gage this, and he didn’t know why he continued, “I thought since no-no one likes me, no one w-would come for me… tha-that I would be left-“
“Stop that,” Gage told him, voice firm and gentle at once, “Just-Just stop thinkin’ like that. We would never leave you behind, okay? Never in a million years.”
Gage’s arms tightened around him, and Brice allowed himself the rare comfort of physical contact, was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t hear Kelly arrive. When Gage and Kelly helped him to his feet, his knees almost buckled. I did not realize how dehydrated I am. His head was swimming, his stomach churning, his limbs weak and sore. He leaned heavily on Gage during the long trek back. Kelly, in a rare bout of seriousness, remained silent save to ask about Brice’s condition.
“There you are! What happened, Brice?”
He looked up. There was a good crowd assembled between 43s and 51s. Feeling a bit foolish all the sudden, Brice opened his mouth to reply, but Gage cut him off, said, “You can tell the story later, pal. For now, be quiet and let me look you over.”
“No… No, I-I’m fi-“
A hacking cough ripped through him, made him double over, set his stomach churning even worse. He must have eaten more smoke than he realized. He became vaguely aware of someone moving him, found himself sitting on Squad 51’s running boards. Gage was there again, saying, “Here, lemme put the ox-“
Brice instinctively fought it, remembered his air mask, felt smothered.
“Don’t be like that, Brice,” Gage told him, “Lemme put the oxygen on you… There you go… You know the drill. Just breathe. I’m gonna take your vitals…”
Gage treated him so gently and kindly it was almost dissonant. Brice was unused to such care. It almost made him uncomfortable because he didn’t know how to handle it.
“Hey, Brice, I really think you oughta go to Rampart,” Gage said.
Shaking his head, Brice began to say that he was fine, but shaking his head was the wrong thing to do. A wave of nausea rolled through him, so he pulled off the oxygen mask, leaned sideways, and vomited. His whole body ached again as he heaved, his throat burning from the bile. Even through his turnout, he could feel Gage rubbing his back, an act of care. It feels nice.
“I want you to go to Rampart,” Gage reiterated.
“I-… I agree.”
It was almost unfortunate that someone like Gage was showing him such kindness when he’d gone so long without it. Now I know what I’m missing.
xXxXx
Brice pulled up to Station 16, and for a moment, he seriously considered just giving up. He’d already been through more stations and partners than anyone else in the department, and 16s was his last best hope for something more permanent. They told me my partner here is a good man… though I feel they neglected to tell me a great deal about him. He would honestly take almost anyone at this point, as long as they would take him in turn, just as he was. With a sigh, he exited his car and went in.
“Hello, I’m Craig Brice, the new paramedic,” he stated calmly.
As I’ve done so many times before. The crew introduced themselves, though the welcome wasn’t quite warm… except for one. When the lukewarm greetings were done, one of the men got to his feet. He was big (burly seemed an apt description) and tall and would look intimidating if he weren’t wearing a goofy smile.
“Hey, Brice. Bob. Bob Bellingham. I’m your new partner.”
When Bellingham shook his hand, Brice expected a crushing grip, but the big hand was surprisingly gentle.
“Here, I’ll help ya out. Follow me,” he said.
Brice followed, allowed the big man to show him to his locker. He is so kind. Bellingham just talked the whole time Brice was putting his things in his locker, telling him about the station and the guys there and the squad. Brice remained silent until he was done, and then he felt obligated to make sure Bellingham knew what he was getting into.
“I feel that I must inform you that many find me difficult to work with.”
“I know.”
“I have many habits associated with the job others find irritating or pointless.”
“I know.”
“And I prefer to conduct myself by the book in all aspects of the job.”
“I know.”
Brice blinked at him. Bellingham was still smiling calmly, unfazed by anything Brice just said. This is new. After a moment, Brice asked, “None of these issues… bothers you, Bellingham?”
“Nope, I’m pretty easy. Only thing is I’m a little messy, but if you’re willin’ to overlook that and work with me, I can do the same for you, I think,” he replied, still smiling.
This is very new, indeed. There hadn’t yet been someone so willing to work with him and accommodate his habits. Everyone else had their own hard and fast habits they refused to break even though they likely could. I know I cannot break mine. I tried. He looked over Bellingham once more. At first glance, he didn’t inspire much confidence. He looked kind of sloppy and dopey and too big to perform some of the more delicate work paramedics often had to do… but he wouldn’t be here if he couldn’t do the work. He had to be intelligent to pass the program and had to keep everything in order to pass inspection. There is something else, though… Bellingham just radiated calm, gentle warmth, seemed to be one of those people who could just talk to a bomb and defuse it.
“I heard there is a betting pool,” Brice said.
“Yep… on how long before I get sick of ya and one of us transfers.”
“And?”
“We can split the money after a couple years, Brice. I picked the longest time period. C’mon, we’ll go check out the squad…”
A big hand gripped his shoulder, and for once, Brice didn’t mind the contact.