Chapter Text
Disclaimer: The E! characters do not belong to me. They have been borrowed strictly for fun and not for fortune.
"A Measure of Luck"
By Ross
Chapter One
L.A. County Fire Department paramedic, Roy DeSoto, exited Station 51's dayroom and narrowly avoided tripping over his partner.
His friend, and fellow firefighter, John Gage, was kneeling on the floor, just outside the door, peering under their parked rescue squad.
Roy crouched down beside his 'floored' buddy. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you find it..."
"Ah-ahhh, I lost my lucky pen," Gage groused and began circling the stationary vehicle—on all fours.
Roy's right eyebrow arched upwards. 'Ah-ahhh...his lucky pen.'
The pen his partner considered to be his 'lucky charm'. The pen Johnny accredited with the uncanny ability to keep him 'safe' on the job. The same pen that had run out of ink three months back, but was still being carried in the right breast pocket of his partner's uniform shirt.
DeSoto had suggested changing ink cartridges, but his friend was afraid that move might somehow mess with the pen's 'mojo'.
Roy exhaled a resigned sigh, before straightening up and following his crawling friend around the rear of their firetruck.
Gage reached the passenger door and reluctantly rose to his knees. "Kin you pull the Squad ahead about a foot for me? I wanna check under the tires, too."
His buddy obligingly climbed up into the cab, ignited the truck's engine, and moved it ahead the requested distance. Roy flicked the key back off and climbed back out. "When's the last time you remember seeing it in your pocket?" he inquired, when his partner's head popped up, the frown still in place on his face.
"This morning...right after roll," Gage glumly replied. "I know I still had it on me when we started inventorying supplies-because I kept reaching for it, instead of my 'other' pen."
"You mean, the one that actually writes?" DeSoto teased.
But Johnny just ignored the jibe. "I was sort a' hoping it might a' fell out while we were cramming everything back into the compartments...you know, when that first call came in. Ahhh, ma-an! I can't believe I lost my lucky pen! I didn't even realize it was missing, until just a few minutes ago."
Roy shot his distraught shiftmate a sympathetic glance. "I sure hope you didn't lose it while we were out on a run."
The two of them had already responded to over a dozen calls that shift.
His partner's lucky pen could've fallen from his pocket at any one of those locations.
John heaved a heavy sigh and finally forced a reply. "You and me, both!"
DeSoto's countenance suddenly brightened. "Did you check the dayroom?"
Gage looked even glummer and sadly shook his head. They'd been kept so busy, he doubted if he'd even been in there twice, that entire day. He grabbed the Squad's running board and used it to hoist himself up off the cold, concrete floor of the garage. He brushed the dust from the knees of his dark blue slacks, before finally straightening...somewhat.
Roy latched onto one of his depressed partner's sagging shoulders and started escorting him toward the Station's combination rec' room/kitchen area. "C'mon! I'll help you look for it."
The two men strolled into the dayroom and started shoving chairs around and tossing couch cushions. They even looked under the Station's dozing mascot.
"Hey! Hey, c'mon, man!" Chet Kelly complained, as the pair continued to tear the entire rec' room apart. "Quit messin' up the place! I had it looking fairly decent in here, until you two showed up! Will yah stop throwin' things around? Sheesh! You guys are like a two-man wrecking crew!" Unsuccessful in his attempts to stop the searchers, Chet devoted his efforts to undoing the damage.
Mike Stoker heard the commotion from the kitchen, and lowered his newspaper. "What did you lose?"
"Their minds!" Kelly quipped, and continued to follow along in the paramedics' destructive wake, resituating displaced objects and rearranging moved furniture.
"I can't find my pen," Gage finally replied, following a frustrated gasp.
He and his searching partner crossed over into the kitchen.
Marco Lopez, who was seated across the table from Mike, looked up from the Sports' section he'd been perusing, and he and the Station's engineer exchanged amazed glances.
"Was it a standard issue, green L.A. County Fire Department pen?" Marco calmly inquired.
"Yeah!" John exclaimed, his voice suddenly filled with excitement. "Why? Have you seen it?"
"Yeah. It's right there, in your left pocket," Mike bemusedly pointed out.
Gage's face fell, as well as his glum gaze, which gradually dropped to his chest. The paramedic patted the green pen that was protruding from the left pocket of his uniform shirt. "This isn't the one I'm looking for."
"How can you tell?" Marco wondered. "I mean, they all look exactly the same, to me."
"Because they ain't exactly the same," the disappointed paramedic promptly pointed out. "The one I'm looking for is out of ink and all dinged up."
Chet Kelly was fixing flung couch cushions. Suddenly, he froze-right in mid-fix.
Mike and Marco appeared to find their fireman friend's little revelation even more amazing—not to mention most amusing.
"If it's all dinged up and out of ink, why are you even bothering to look for it?" Stoker further pondered, suppressing a smile all the while.
"Yeah," Marco concurred. "There's a 500-count box full of green pens, sitting on a shelf in the cabinet in Cap's office. Instead of looking for your old pen, why don't you just walk in there and grab a new one?"
"It's his lucky pen," Roy replied, when his silent partner failed to.
Kelly looked downright alarmed. His mustached face turned in the direction of the person with the missing 'lucky' pen. "I thought you said you weren't superstitious..."
Gage gave his blabbermouth partner an annoyed glare, before turning to face Kelly. "I'm not! I'm not superstitious. But I'm not stupid, either. Even if it is purely a coincidence, that I haven't been hospitalized since having that pen in my possession, I certainly don't intend to 'tempt' fate."
The paramedics continued to slide stuff across the kitchen counters and check behind pots and pans...and trashcans. They even made Mike and Marco move their feet.
Speaking of Mike and Marco...
The firemen were so fixated on the 'demolition duo', no one even noticed that Chet Kelly had slipped silently out of the room.
Chet raced through the garage and went bolting out the Station's back door. The fireman never slowed his pace as he continued to race, across the parking lot and around the back of the brick building.
The rapidly moving fireman finally skidded to a stop, right in front of the Station's Dumpster. The mustached man stood there in the alley for a few breathless moments, dreading what he might find—er, rather, what he might not find, when he lifted the bright green bin's lid. He latched onto the heavy metal cover and raised it just enough to be able to peer inside.
Sure enough! His worst fears were confirmed!
The Sanitation Department crew had already came and went.
Johnny's lucky pen was ancient history.
Or was it?
The devious Irishman's gloomy green eyes suddenly glistened and he went scurrying off again, this time, in the direction of his Captain's office.
TBC