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"A Heavenly Cause"

Summary:

What happens when firemen can't put the wet stuff on the red stuff?

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

The E! characters do not belong to me. They have been borrowed strictly for fun and not for fortune. :D Darn.

Chapter Text

"A Heavenly Cause"
By Ross

 

Chapter One

 

The mood that was currently permeating L.A. County Fire Station 51 was anything but pleasant.

Having to pull a double shift in an oppressive heat-wave was known to have that effect, even on the most easy-going of firemen.

As if battling the heat wasn't enough, the lack of rainfall on the county's tinder-dry hillsides was sparking one brushfire after another.

B-shift's crew had been deployed to a bad one in El Domingo and working the lines in 110 degree heat had really taken its toll.

Hence, Hank Stanley's current predicament: How to keep his exceedingly irritable crew from chewing each other's heads off. The Captain glanced up over his newspaper.

His guys had literally collapsed into, and onto, various chairs in their rec' room and were just sitting there, sweating.

Mike Stoker and Marco Lopez were engaged in a heated debate over when, and if, the weather would ever break.

"I predicted this was going to happen—way back in March already!" Chet Kelly cut in.

"Oh yeah? Well, good for you!" Stoker snapped back.

The Captain cringed. ‘Sheesh!'

Even his mild-mannered engineer was behaving a bit snippishly.

"Kelly's clairvoyant," John Gage sarcastically mumbled—er grumbled to his paramedic partner.

"It was right after that pyromaniac was killed," Kelly continued and directed his gaze at the skeptic. "You were in the hospital, dying of pneumonia, and I was sitting right here—"

The skeptic cut him off "—What pyromaniac?"

DeSoto was massaging his sweat-drenched forehead. "It's a long story and this heat is giving me a headache so ask me again, later…much later," he aggravatedly added.

‘Sheesh!' Hank really needed to do some morale boosting. He had heard talk among his fellow captains and had set a plan in motion. He prayed it would succeed.

The visitor's buzzer sounded. No one moved.

"Don't everybody race to the door at once," the Captain quipped, sounding more than a bit snarky, himself.

"I'll get it," Marco half-heartedly volunteered. Lopez rose slowly and stiffly to his feet and then headed for their front door in the same manner.

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Marco returned a minute later precariously balancing six beige cardboard boxes in his arms. "Can somebody give me a hand here?...Thanks," he added as Gage and DeSoto each took two of the boxes from him.

John read the side of one of the boxes. "Boots? Where did all these ‘boots' come from?"

"Headquarters," Marco replied. "At least, that's where the guy said he was from."

Five sets of eyes suddenly riveted upon their fearless leader.

The Captain cleared his throat. "Uhhh…Those must be the new safety shoes headquarters wants us to test in the field," Hank semi-truthfully informed them.

His guys emitted a group groan.

"Ah c'mon! You haven't even tried them on yet!"

"How could you?" Mike forlornly inquired.

"Yeah, Cap," Kelly joined in, "I thought we all agreed, after testing that new safety harness, that we weren't gonna be guinea pigs for the county anymore."

Gage rubbed his left ribcage. "I remember that harness."

DeSoto frowned. "Me, too."

The guys gathered round the table.

Hank brushed their Bassett Hound's hot, heavy head from his lap and joined them. "Didn't I hear someone complaining of sore feet the other day?"

The guys locked their disgruntled gazes upon Gage.

John glared defensively back at them and then began rummaging through the boxes until he found his foot size. He crossed the rec' room and sank down on their sofa, placing the box in his lap. He lifted the lid and found a note on top of some tissue paper. He picked the tiny piece of paper up and began reading, "Congratulations! You are the proud owner of the new Comfort-Stride safety shoes with the cushioned luxury of thousands of tiny air bubbles." Gage couldn't help but grin. He set the note aside and tugged at the tissue paper. "Man! What a tough lookin' shoe!" he exclaimed and held one up for closer inspection.

The guys got a look at Gage's shoe and began rummaging around for theirs.

"It's kind of a cross between a boot and a shoe," John determined. He slipped his old work boots off and his new work boots on. He gave his toes a wiggle or two. "They feel pretty good."

"You can't tell sitting down," Chet chided. "You gotta get up and walk around."

The fireman dutifully rose to his feet. The shoes made an odd sound…a very embarrassing odd sound.

Chet made a face. "Really, Gage!"

John snickered and raised his hands, "That wasn't me. Honest!"

Kelly looked skeptical. "It sure sounded like it was you."

"Well it wasn't. It was the shoes. Watch…" John took a step forward. His shoes farted again, causing his crewmates to grin.

Mike got to his feet and was rewarded with the same sound.

Chet, Marco, Roy and Hank all rose to their feet at once, producing a very loud version of the embarrassing sound.

John collapsed back onto the couch, laughing delightedly.

The rest of the guys burst out laughing, too.

Stanley beamed a broad grin around the room. "Well, I don't know if these things do anything for feet, but they sure are great for morale."

Kelly raised his right foot and then slowly set it down. The shoe made a long, soft version of the embarrassing sound and sent the guys into another round of laughter.

"What the heck is that?" Marco wondered.

Roy grinned. "That must be the sound of thousands of tiny air bubbles—bursting!"

More laughter ensued.

Henry was staring down at the firemen's feet with his head cocked. He inched his way over to the edge of the sofa cushion and barked at John's boots. John went to stand but, as the sound started, Henry started to growl…a low, deep-throated growl. John froze and sank back into his seat. Henry remained on the edge of the cushion with his eyes riveted on the offensive footwear. "I don't think Henry likes our new safety shoes, Cap."

"So it would seem. Perhaps we should take them off," Stanley advised.

"Ah, Cap," Kelly groused. "But they're so luxuriously comfortable…"

The guys snickered.

Roy turned to their Captain. "Are THEY gonna let us un-volunteer?"

"They'll have to," Hank came back. "I'll just have to explain how our dog has taken an apparent dislike to these miniature whoopee cushions, so we had to take them off. And, of course, we couldn't go around barefooted, so we had to put our old work boots back on," he hinted.

The men took the hint and immediately swapped out their shoes.

Chet held up one of his new—never to be old—shoes. "I wonder if they're water-proof?"

Marco rolled his eyes. "What difference does it make? With a noise like that, no one is ever going to be able to wear them, anyway."

Gage managed a wry grin. "You forget, Marco…Chet's foot spends a lot of time in his mouth, so he needs a water-proof shoe."

The guys snickered.

Even Chet was forced to smile.

Stoker studied his new boots. "Can you imagine a whole auditorium full of people, all wearing these things, and all getting to their feet at once?"

The men exchanged grins.

Gage turned to his partner. "Can you imagine walking up to a patient with these on?"

"We wouldn't dare," DeSoto quickly determined. "They'd probably die laughing."

Stanley finished securing the laces on his old work boots and stood. "I'm gonna go call headquarters."

Kelly picked the little note up from his shoe box. "Hey, according to this, the noise goes away once you've broken them in."

"Huh!" Stoker exclaimed. "Who could ever wear ‘em long enough to ‘break them in'?"

"Yeah," Lopez agreed. "You'd have to wear them when no one else was around."

"Once they're broke in," Kelly continued, "they'll be the most luxuriously comfortable, long-lasting pair of safety shoes you've ever, or will ever, own." He stopped reading and his jaw went slack. "Retail Value: 210 bucks!?"

The rest of the men dug out their papers and stared disbelievingly down at the suggested retail value of their FREE safety shoes.

Captain Stanley stepped back into the room, looking a little nervous.

Kelly turned to him. "Cap, maybe we should reconsider testing these shoes."

"Yeah," Lopez agreed. "We could break ‘em in at home, first. That way, the company dog wouldn't have to put up with the ‘distraction'."

Hank's face filled with a look that was an equal measure of relief and confusion. "Does everyone feel the same way?"

His crew nodded.

"Well, that's it then. Now, is everyone ready to go out and face the heat? THEY want us to patrol our district and make sure all the hydrants are shut off. Truck 23 just came from a structure fire over on Van Ness. They said they barely had any water pressure. It seems people are using the hydrants to cool off in this heat. Pressure in the main lines is real low."

Stoker looked curious. "While we're out patrolling, who's gonna handle our runs?"

"Stations 8, 16, and 36 will be covering for us. Every available man the department has is off fighting brush fires. They don't have anyone else to do the job. Roy, you and John can take the squad." Hank turned to his engine crew. "They want us to use our personal vehicles. They are going to reimburse us for gas. Marco, you can ride with me. We'll work the north side—east to west. Mike, you and Chet start on the east side and work north to south." He aimed his gaze in his paramedics' direction. "You two start on the west side and work north to south until you meet up with Chet and Mike. Any questions? Good! Then, let's get to work!"

TBC______________________________________________________