"John, pal, can you reach it?" Cap had to know if any additional manpower was needed. It started out a two man operation, then one by one people stopped what they were doing and gawked, attracted by the activity in the parking lot.

Gage hung upside down from the pass-through window of the truck. He twisted his upper body and inched into the far corner of the cab. "Just... about. Can you give me a little more light down here?"

Chet grabbed a flashlight and angled it through the open door so Johnny could see the small car better.

"I almost got it... all...most...GOT IT!"

Mike grabbed him by the belt and hauled him out from behind the seat.

"There... none the worse for wear." Johnny fogged the top with his breath, and buffed the Matchbox car against his shirt.

"Good work Gage." Cap sounded genuinely impressed - for a minute. "Now if you all wouldn't mind, could we get on with the day's business?"

"Sure, Cap." Johnny tossed the car into the air, and walked out from under its arc, leaving Mike to catch the toy.

"Thanks, Johnny." Stoker dropped his son's car into his shirt pocket. "I couldn't get in there at the right angle."

"Skinny but tough has its advantages." Johnny patted Mike stomach to accent his last comment.

Mike self consciously smoothed out his shirt. He'd hoped no one would notice the slight pull of material around his middle. "Something must have happened to my shirt."

"Don't tell me..." Johnny's expression was pure innocence, "...tell your buttons." Then he ran into line for roll call to escape being slapped.

Captain Stanley sized up the men standing in front of him, he had one new notice on his clipboard. "Alright, only one new item today. A few of us have physicals coming up. You might want to think about adding a little weight to your workout, Gage."

Chet piped up. "Yeah, Johnny, you could be the next Jack LaLaine."

"...or trimming down - Kelly." Cap waited a beat for the full effect to sink in. "Personally, I'm adding a couple of miles to my run each week... Stoker, you might want to think about that yourself." Mike did a double take, everything else Captain Stanley said was lost to him.

Next thing Mike knew he was the only one left in line, and Captain Stanley was standing in front of him holding out his hand. "Money... I'm cooking today, two bucks should do it. I understand, I'm no great orator, but..." He'd said it in jest, but the vacant stare the captain was getting wasn't helping his ego. "Didn't you hear anything I said?"

Mike stared down at the hand, then looked him in the eyes, trying to decipher any hidden meaning in the captain's expression. He fished for his wallet. "Sorry Cap."

Captain Stanley announced the second item of the day; a trip to the market so his men wouldn't faint from malnutrition before the day was out. Chet had volunteered to help the captain shop for their supper. He actually had an ulterior motive, but as long as he behaved himself Cap agreed to have him along.

The engine was always attracting new admirers. The lucky ones, usually those under twelve years old, got a chance to sit in the cab and for a few minutes dream of red lights, sirens and heroes. It didn't take long for the kids to come. As soon as they parked at the end of the firelane, they appeared in various sizes, boy and girls. Most kids found this to be a much more interesting activity then Saturday morning grocery shopping.

Marco helped another one of the kids down from his seat on the engine. Mike picked the wrong time to kneel and talk to two more of them. As soon as he got down to their eye level, a Hostess delivery truck splashed through the standing water at the sidewalk's edge, sending a stream of dirty water to drench the back of his shirt. The shock of cold water sent him leaping back to his feet. The kids, and Marco, found his yelp hilarious and weren't afraid to show it. A bit too enthusiastically according to Mike's thinking. He held his tongue and kept a smile on his face for the kids' benefit. With small children at home, the engineer had acquired the wise habit of not saying such words out loud.

The engine wasn't the only thing attracting new admirers. With the makings for dinner in the bag, Cap passed a giggling trio of girls, talking about 'the one with the mustache' and 'the tall one'. "Chet, get a move on!" He called back through the closing door. Stoker spotted the captain coming and cut the impromptu tour short. Not the least bit discouraged, the kids raced off to the ten-cent candy machines.

Cap stowed the bag and Mike pulled away from the curb, smiling at the site in the sideview mirror - Chet running the length of the parking lot. A brief stop at the driveway and everybody was on board again. Mike paused waiting to pull into traffic. From the two lane street leading into the housing tract, he watched a brown Lincoln cross the double yellow line.

"No luck, huh, Chet?" Marco laughed, and from the look on Chet's face, he really didn't need an answer.

"No, just a bunch of housewives and grandmothers. I thought the weekend is when the single chicks..."

Neither of them could see what Mike could until the driver of the Lincoln overcorrected. Its tires squealed and bounced off the curb. Instead of slowing down, the car sped up and aimed for the double yellow again. It hit the opposite curb, past a crowd of people, launched itself across the empty, narrow parking lot and finally landed in the front window of an office building.

Captain Stanley grabbed the mike. "L.A. this is Engine 51, we have a MVA with injuries at 2732 Melrose Ave., cross street Western Ave. We are responding on scene. Send a squad and an ambulance to our location. Be advised this is listed as Melrose Plaza, the vehicle has crashed into the building."

All Mike had to do was cross the street. Customers who had scrambled for cover at the Foster's Freeze when the Lincoln headed their way, now wandered out into the parking lot, oblivious to the huge red vehicle. Stoker laid on the air horn and suddenly people scattered again.

The small cloud of plaster dust had almost dissipated. The heavy Lincoln sat halfway inside the reception area of a temp. agency, the rear axle balancing on what remained of the front wall. Glass daggers hung from what was left of the window frame. Mike quickly hooked the snaps, and then pulled up the collar of his turnout coat. He grabbed the pike pole, using it to clear away the fragments for a safe entry. Squad 51 pulled up as the last of the glass fell.

Once the window frame was clear, Mike and Marco braced the car to keep it from slipping. Johnny was first to the driver. The low brick wall creased the drivers side door, the other side was inaccessible. Gage tried to yank the door open, but the handle gave way before the catch did. "I think we're going to need the jaws." Marco took off for the engine.

"Let me try it." Mike studied what was left of the door, found a solid hold for the pry bar and leaned into it. The latch yielded a tiny bit.

Marco and Roy returned with more of the paramedic's equipment. "Chet's on his way with the jaws. Come on, Mike, put your weight into it." Marco cringed under Stoker's hostile stare. This time, sure that there were no kids within earshot, Mike made his feelings known. With a final thrust, the door popped, and Gage and Desoto went to work.

Cap pushed through the remnants of writing desks and upholstered chairs, leading the ambulance attendants. "We're lucky no one was working today."

Quiet settled in after the ambulance arrived, the only sounds left were the hissing radiator and Gage on the bio-phone to Rampart. An interior wall had been drug along with the car, tearing down pieces of ceiling as it went. Steam saturated sections of drywall and ceiling tile drooped over the car's hood. Mike shoved the wall out of the way to make room for the paramedics to load up the driver. The pair of legs he uncovered tripped him up. As he caught himself on the wall leaning into the hallway, a slim metal runner from the drop ceiling found the gap between his glove and coat sleeve. "Johnny, Roy, there's another victim over here!" Mike shook off his glove to feel for a pulse.

Roy grabbed the drug box. "Johnny, go on in with the driver. I'll get this one. Cap, we need a second ambulance."

Chet abandoned the jaws and helped Mike move the rest of the wall and a water cooler off the second victim, then cradled her head. He looked over and saw blood dripping down the back of Mike's hand. "Hey, what happened? Your hand, man. Take a look at it" Mike had no idea what he was talking about. He gave Chet a quizzical look as they helped Roy package the patient just in time for the second ambulance to pull up.

After the patient was gone, he remembered what Chet had said. He looked down and saw blood. "Now what?" Mike didn't want to go rummaging around in the trauma box, so he raided the small first aid kit in the engine and found a roll of gauze. He didn't notice that Captain Stanley had finished talking to the property manager, and was now hovering over him.

"Can you drive with that?"

Stoker startled, and looked up at a concerned captain. He finished wrapping the gauze around his forearm. "No problem, Cap."

"Good, then you can drive the squad in to Rampart."

Mike looked for all the world like a boy who had just had his favorite toy taken away. He opened his mouth to protest, but less then five minutes later, found himself sitting behind the unfamiliar steering wheel driving himself to the hospital.

At Rampart, Johnny and Roy meet up at Dixie's station to get resupplied. "Man, she sure picked a bad day to put in some overtime." Johnny elbowed Roy and they both stared at Mike Stoker walking down the hall, with a bandage wrapped around one arm, tugging at his shirt with the other. His turnout coat protected him from all the glass, but body heat and his wet clothes created a sauna and now the damp shirt clung across his back. He tried pulling at the material to create an air space and help it dry, but there wasn't enough fabric to grasp.

Dixie and Carol stopped by the desk at the same time Mike arrived. "Well...this is an unusual sight. What have we here?"

Mike offered his arm for inspection. "It's just a little cut."

Dixie's experience said otherwise. "About four stitches worth of cut. Carol, why don't you escort this gentleman down to four, and I'll get these two their supplies."

Mike had been in this room once before, it looked different walking into it. Carol patted the table, and then went off to assemble what was needed. Mike dutifully sat and waited. The first thing he spotted was a scale, right there - between the door and the cabinet where Carol was working. He tried to ignore it. But every time his eyes shifted back to it, Carol crossed in front of it and caught him looking around nervously. A little conversation usually relaxed people.

"It looks different when it's quiet." She held his arm gently. "You have a nice collection of divots and burns here."

Mike squirmed when Carol started cutting away the bandage and cleaning his wound. "Goes with the territory, I guess."

It constantly amazed her. She smiled, here was the typical big, brave fireman squeamish about a little blood. "Who patched you up?"

"I did."

"Well, you get an "A" in first aid today."

Mike only smiled. His drying shirt was stiff from the dirty water, and he longed to have the room to himself - just for a few minutes so he could hop on the scale. He never got the chance. Dixie was right, four stitches and a fresh bandage later, Johnny, Roy and Mike were headed home.

Mike headed straight for the locker room for clothes that didn't smell like gutter water. He balled up the dirty shirt and threw it at his open locker. That can't be my shirt. He reached for a new uniform.

His wife smiled at him from the locker door. Laurie was mortified when she saw that picture; it always made him smile. It was only drizzling when they started walking along the beach. They even dug up a few clams, but nothing close to the four inch limit, so they tucked the babies back in. Then the clouds burst open. Stringy, sopping hair hung in her face, she was packing a sandy, wet ball and he knew exactly where it was going. He'd snapped the picture right before she cocked her arm back and let the soggy mess fly. All that just for calling her the swamp thing. He'd promised to burn the photo, she would kill him if she knew it was here.

# Station 36, Station 51, Engine 127 Explosion at Century Pharmaceuticals, 14829 E. Wilson, cross street Taggart, time out 1137 #

He jumped at the sound of the bell and dressed automatically, listening to where they were going. He looked down and frowned at the gapping buttons. Maybe it's not the shirt.

Tuesday morning, Mike parked his truck in the lot and sat there, dreading the trip into the station. Hopefully the next 24 hours would be easier on him then the two days he just put in at home. Cap and Roy were already here, they wouldn't rib him... much. His legs, back and shoulders had their own idea of what he should be doing today, but they complied and he braced himself to walk as normally as possible. He picked up the pace, when he heard laughter on the other side of the kitchen door, and made it to the safety of the locker room before anybody spotted him.

Hidden away from sight among the second row of lockers, he stared at the one shirt hanging there. His wife was going to bring him more sometime this morning. They were hanging in the kitchen before he left, needing to be ironed, she said. They looked fine to him. He kissed her goodbye, and when he tried to reach for one, she picked up a wooden spoon and practically chased him out of the house.

His respite ended when he heard Chet and Johnny on the other side of the door. Discussing what, he didn't know. He was occupied trying to figure out the least painful way of getting dressed. He sat with one arm in the sleeve, groped behind his back for the other one and kept missing. "Argh"

Chet peered at him from around the corner of his locker. Roy and Johnny looked on over his shoulder. "What's the matter Mikey, old age creeping up on you?"

"No...o, two days of yard work. Ouch." His arm found its mark and he shrugged his shirt up onto his shoulders. That wasn't such a great idea either. "Laurie decided she wanted a shade tree in the front yard."

"But you've got those little palm trees in your front yard." Roy said.

"Tell me about it. Have you ever seen the roots on a palm tree?"

Roy laughed on his way out the door. "Better you than me."

When he finally made it to the kitchen, there was a bottle of aspirin and a cup of coffee waiting for him. He could hope for an easy day, just enough to keep him from getting stiff.

He got his wish, the engine had two easy runs, while the squad had been out all morning. It was almost eleven before there was a long enough break between runs for the paramedics to get started on their assigned chores. Johnny was halfway thru mopping the floors. Roy hung back in the doorway of the dorm, straightening an already neat pillow. He knew if he asked Johnny to switch jobs, he'd have to make a full confession. The bay doors were left open after the engine pulled out and Roy needed to keep an eye out; Laurie Stoker was due any time now. If luck would hold, the engine would still be out.

Laurie's fastback turn down the side driveway and Roy's hope of keeping this to himself vanished when his partner trotted out to the back lot. Roy rushed up behind him. They waited while she backed the Fairlane into a parking space. Four year old Mikey unbuckled himself and popped up over the back of the seat.

"Laurie, you just missed Mike." Johnny had a special invitation for the youngest Stoker. "Hi, Mikey, do you want to come sit in the squad?"

Daddy's engine wasn't there, only the little truck. "No." One word was enough. He returned to his toy Godzilla and red fire engine, roaring and making siren noises.

Johnny looked a little disappointed. "Loyal, isn't he?" he joked.

"Absolutely, and quite the chatterbox." Now she was being facetious. "Definately takes after his father."

Johnny reached for the handle to open the door for her. "It's only a trash fire, they should be back soon. Do you want to wait?"

Laurie picked up the grocery sack on the seat next to her. "No, I came to drop something off." She looked at Roy for a hint of how much she should tell. John stepped back to look at both of them.

Roy crossed his arms over his chest, then planted them on his hips, next he was jingling keys in his pocket. "What?" he said sheepishly.

"There's something going on here. What gives?"

Roy shifted his feet and tried to keep his cool as the blush spread up his cheeks. "Nothing's going on. She's just dropping something off with me... for Joanne... right..." Roy's nod was minute, but Laurie caught it - so did Johnny. Roy held out his hand for the paper bag. "Thanks, I'll give this to Joanne tomorrow."

Something fishy was going on. "Why didn't you just take it over yourself, instead of coming here?"

"Joanne's not home this morning."
"I wanted to get home quick."

"Okay, what's up?" One eye narrowed, "What's in the bag?"

"Curtains"
"Clothes"

Johnny intercepted the bag when Laurie tried to hand it to Roy. Roy grabbed for it, but Johnny tucked it under his arm like a football and took off across the lot. A safe distance away, he peeked in the bag, and then slowly walked back. "I don't get it... shirts... what's the big deal?"

There was a mischievous glint in Laurie's pleading eyes . "You won't give us away...?"

Gage held up a three finger salute. "Scout's honor."

Laurie rested a hand on her belly. With that light touch, she could feel a tiny foot pushing at her and she smiled. "I haven't seen my waistline in a month, and I still have three months to go. At least I can make my dear husband think he's losing his. You promise to help?"

Johnny's face lit up in his own not-so-innocent expression. "Yeeah." He elbowed Roy and whispered, "At least one of you was telling the truth."

"Roy, I'll let you fill him in. I really do want to get home quick. We had an early day. I don't know about Mikey, but I'm ready for a nap." Laurie started the car, slipped it into gear and smiled. "You'll have to tell me how it goes. Mike didn't say a word about anything that happened last shift, you know he never will." She started to laugh. "You should have seen it, he worked so hard on the yard yesterday. I almost feel guilty... Have you ever seen the roots on a palm tree? I guess I'll be nice and make it up to him tomorrow. Take care."

They watched her drive off, then slowly walked back into the station. Roy reclaimed the bag, and leaned his arm on Johnny's shoulder, "It's like this... "

Lunch was an idea that just never had a chance. They were first in on a structure fire that turned into a two alarm mess. Late afternoon the station welcomed them back with the unmistakable presence of fresh bread. They followed their noses to two foil wrapped packages on the counter next to the stove. Captain Stanley picked up the note taped to the top. He handed it over to Marco. "I don't read Spanish."

Everyone crowded in closer. Roy had his hand poised over the stack of napkins. Chet was reaching for the knife block.

"It's from Mama, pumpkin bread."

That combination didn't sound right to Gage. "Pumpkin... bread?!?"

"This is good John. There's pears and nuts and..." He took a deep sniff of the wrapped loaf. "...cranberries."

Roy and Chet got busy handing out thick slices. Cap polished of his first piece. "Mrs. Lopez, I love you."

Johnny snatched the crumbs of fruit and nuts from the foil. "If your mom was thirty years younger."

Marco put a quick stop to that idea. "Don't even go there, Gage."

Mike started on the second loaf when the bell sounded and the dash for their vehicles was on again.

Their 'unknown type rescue' turned out to be an elderly man trapped by an out of balance washing machine that had pinned him against the wall. His neighbor heard him calling for help and phoned the fire department. Johnny scrapped up his arm against the brick wall when he moved the machine off of the man's foot. The engine made it back home long before the paramedics. The paramedic team strolled into the kitchen while Chet was in the midst of preparing diner. Cap was checking out the newspaper that nobody had had a chance to read yet, Mike halfway helped Marco set the table whenever he sent plates and utensils his way. Roy headed straight for the coffee pot.

"So, how'd it go?" Cap asked.

Johnny raided a handful of cookies from the cookie jar. He made a bite sized cookie out of one that wasn't. "No broken bones, just a very bruised foot."

"And his neighbor, the woman who called, promised to help him with the laundry until his wife was feeling better." Roy helped himself to one of Johnny's cookies, his was gone in two bites.

Chet grabbed the potholders to get the food out of the oven and he noticed the white bandage around Johnny's elbow. "Geesh, Gage, you went in for that little scratch? Hey, doesn't it make you nervous that doctors call what they do 'practice'?"

"Ha, ha. Try something original next time, and it's called an abrasion - get it right." Gage shrugged. "Anyway, Dr. Brackett saw it... and ...well... I was already there..."

Mike looked up from setting the table. "Besides, Johnny has a season pass to the ER."

Roy sprayed out a mouthful of coffee and grabbed the towel hanging from Chet's shoulder. He quickly wiped off the front of his shirt, and the back of Chet's.

Johnny looked at Roy in disbelief. "How could you?"

"Feast your eyes on this guys." Chet lowered the platter of pork chops to the table - just beyond Mike's reach.

Marco's fork was already on its way. "It's not my eyes that want to feast, my friend."

"I'll second that, Pal." Cap waited impatiently for his turn.

The conversation lulled while everyone filed their plates. It took them longer to pass and dish out the food then to eat it. Johnny was the first to reach for seconds. Everyone had missed lunch, and as long as there was time, he wasn't about to pass up hot food in front of him. As Mike reached for another pork chop, Chet questioned him, "Are you sure you want to do that, Mike?" Across the table, Johnny raised his fork, and found Mike staring at him.

Mike was at a loss for words. His quiet manner was never for a lack of what to say; this was a new experience. Roy coughed into his napkin, and fought to keep from laughing at Mike's bewildered expression.

Stoker reluctantly decided that Chet may be right. His stomach and taste buds protested, but he pushed himself away from the table. After he set his plate in the sink, he grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter, and headed over to the couch.

Mike scooted Henry out of the way so he could sit and enjoy his apple. He tried reading the newspaper to block out all the aromas and activity at the table. His crewmates yammered on - "Pass me some more of that dressing, gracias." "I have to admit Chet, you did good." "Roy grabbed the last roll." "Sorry, Cap, did you want it?" "No, go ahead, Roy. I'll have some more carrots."

Why was the only dinner conversation about dinner? Mike turned the page he hadn't read, rustling the paper extra loud. It didn't work to block out the noise. The crunch of the apple in his own ears taunted him. Apples were great, but that didn't make up for the pork chops... and dressing... and... He couldn't stand being in the same room any longer. Mike took a last bite from his apple and planned his escape - the back lot, the engine - anywhere but here.

Mike realized the apple had left his hands sticky so he headed for the sinks to wash up. He dried his hands and took a step backward. He snuck a look over his shoulder, it told him the same thing the mirror did - he was finally alone. He took a few paces back from the mirror before running into the bench. That was far enough. He took a good long look, turned profile and looked some more. He tried sucking in his stomach, there wasn't much change - the buttons still pulled. I am not getting 'love handles'. Mike headed out back to shoot a few hoops, while everybody else finished diner.

"Where'd Mike go?" Cap asked those still at the table.

"I think I heard him out back." Marco started picking up empty plates. "Is it just me, or has he been acting a little strange lately."

Hank started to get up. "Maybe I should go make sure he's alright."

"I'll go." Roy spoke up instead.

Roy went out and watched Mike for a few minutes before he spoke up. "What are you doing out here? We had a busy day, come on in and relax."

Mike let the rebound bounce away from him and waved an ackowledgement at Roy while he caught his breath. He grabbed his shirt off the back doorknob and came on in to clean up. Everyone spent the rest of the evening watching a little tv before turning in. They almost had a full night's sleep.

*Station 51, construction accident at the farmer's market, 1500 Pioneer Blvd, cross street Valley View, time out 05:35*

Mike knew that place, he and Laurie had been shopping there yesterday. They'd stopped at the little white shack with the red roof across the parking lot and brought home Tommy's Burgers and chili fries for dinner. Maybe it was a few pregnancy sympathy pounds making his work shirts snug.

Corrugated metal sheets covered the roof and sides of the stick frame market, except for the addition of the meat counter. The new swamp cooler workmen were installing had dropped from the crane, broken through the ceiling joists and peeled a strip of the roofing down for another ten feet. Everyone underneath had made it out safely. The workman who had been directing the crane, slipped into the rift and smacked into the back of the cooling unit.

The cooler sat cockeyed, resting on the edge of the walk-in freezer. The construction crew had shored up the roof around it. Once on the roof, eight feet of open space greeted Captain Stanley. He turned to his paramedics. "We'll lay some ladders across that gap, then lower a stokes down."

"I don't know how long that bracing will hold. We'll just pack him up and get him out of there. We can treat him once we're on the ground." Johnny lowered himself about four feet where the roof wasn't so jagged, and slid the rest of the way. Roy was right behind him. With people handing supplies down to them, they packed up the workman quickly and had him ready to go.

Johnny jumped for the ladder and pulled himself up on that instead of the edge of the hole. Stoker stretched out on the ladder to guide the stokes, while Chet and Marco hauled on the rope. More hands were waiting to grab the stokes and get it over the splintered edge.

Roy heard the creaking of twisted hangers a split second before they finally fatigued and gave way. He scrambled for Mike's down stretched hand as the strip of ceiling fell out from under his feet. They watched the cooler drop another eight feet to the ground and scattered two-by-fours like pick-up-sticks.

"Climb, Roy." Mike blew out his breath and forced himself to take another one. "Just go, I can't move until you do."

Roy latched onto a fistful of sleeve - enough to pull himself even with the ladder. Gripping the side of the ladder with one hand he let go of Mike's left arm to reach across the engineer's back and shimmied up onto the ladder, right on top of him. Marco reached out his hand, Roy had to push forward to reach him. He looked back anxiously at Mike lying on the ladder. "Are you okay?"

Mike waved Roy off with his free right hand. "I'm fine... go." He wasn't entirely believable.

After Roy returned to the ground, Mike crawled backward across the ladder a lot more slowly then he had crawled out. Marco watched him like a hawk as they retrieved the extention ladders and lowered them to the ground. "Sure. Sure... you're okay." Marco did skepticisim well.

The ambulance attendants had the patient loaded. Marco waited until he saw Roy climb in and Johnny close the doors. "Cap, I think Mike needs checked out."

"What happened?"

Johnny finished packing up and joined them at the ladder in time to hear Marco's account. Marco anchored the ladder and all three watched Mike, favoring his left side, gingerly climb down. When he reached the ground and saw that he was surrounded, he knew he was in trouble.

"Michael," Cap pointed to the rear of the engine, "sit."

Mike decided he was more annoyed then surprised at Marco. "I'm okay, Cap."

"I saw the way you climbed down - sit. This time, you ride."

Johnny looked down at Mike. "Maybe, you should think about getting your own season pass."

Mike rolled his eyes, and with a slight "thunk", rested his head against the engine - his own words coming back to haunt him.

Mike was officially bored. He was thankful for friends in high places. When he followed Johnny around to the base station, they found Dixie and Dr. Brackett finishing up with a call from 45's; Bracket sent him right over to x-ray.

Now, back in a treatment room, he felt dumb just sitting there on the table. So he wandered around and read the labels on the bottles in the cabinet, trying to make sense out of them with what little he knew about medicine. He did notice there was no scale in this room. The one question that he really wanted an answer for - he couldn't find out.

The door swung open catching him in the act of snooping. "I knew you weren't okay." Roy stood there blocking the doorway, ready to lay into him.

"I'm, fine."

"It appears... excuse me, Roy." Dr. Morton and Dixie made it through his blockade. "It appears so." Johnny followed everyone in. "Alright, why don't you take off your shirt and tell me what happened."

Before Mike could begin, Roy started telling his version of the incident. Dixie helped Mike with his shirt and noticed a few stray threads along the side seam. She laid it aside and unwrapped the BP cuff. When the t-shirt came off, everyone saw the red marks across the top of his chest continuing on down to his belt. "You didn't impact with the ladder, did you?"

Mike shook his head. "I was already lying on it."

"How do you feel?" Dr. Morton finished poking at him.

"Bruised, I keep trying to..."

Johnny took over the details now. Mike threw up his hands, why do I even bother. Dixie had compassion for him and she handed Stoker back his shirt. "You've got a loose thread here, let's see if I can fix it for you. We have to make sure you look presentable when you leave here." Dixie gave him a wink and went off to get a pair of scissors.

Before Mike got dressed, Morton looked him over one last time. "Well, you're going to feel a lot worse tomorrow."

"Gee, thanks, Doc."

"So, Doc, how is the guy we brought in?" Roy, Johnny and Dr. Morton talked on about the collapsed roof and the outlook for the original victim.

Waiting for Dixie and the scissors, Mike noticed an extra line of stitching along one side seam. And then the other. "Somebody messed with my shirt." He spoke so quietly that no one heard him at first. Going hungry, back breaking yard work, all that running. "I'm gonna mangle somebody." Mike surprised himself that he'd said it out loud. Well, as long as he had everyone attention. He hopped down from the table, grabbed the shirt in one fist and shook it at the paramedics. "Somebody messed with my shirt! When I get back and find out who did this... I... I...."

Roy started shifting from foot to foot. Two whole shifts of playing innocent, trying to be sympathetic to their pigeo... um... his crewmate. If he looked anyone in the eye, the whole scheme would come spilling out. Although perhaps he'd be safer here - more witnesses and instant medical care.

Dixie had never seen the unflappable engineer so excited. "Mike, calm down. I think I smell a rat, and it's a lot closer then the station."

All eyes turned to Roy twisting the toe of his boot against the floor, the same thing his son did when he was hiding something. He made himself stand still. Johnny slowly backed away from the marked man.

Roy cleared his throat. "It was all your wife's idea."

Tommy's Burgers is a real burger chain in Southern California. I used to go to the one in Westminster. Now the closest one to me is a 3 hour long, empty drive away. But I have a very close copy of their chili recipe, so I can fix it whenever I'm in the mood. If anyone wants to try yet another chili recipe, I'll send you a copy.