A captain and three lieutenants continue their investigation (Grainger's fuse is shorter than usual), Pelham decides he should float in District 4 more often (I agree), Squad 9 is in a constant state of heart attack, Sylvie pulls rank for the first time, Tommy makes a decision, Matt has two bombshells dropped on him at Molly's, and it's good news all around for the 126 Squad company.

Enjoy!

***

Tommy was all smiles when Ladder and EMS 126 returned from an overturned vehicle. "Ooo, that's a happy look," Sylvie folded her arms. "I take it the Eagle Scout had a good first flight?"

"More like a perfect first flight," Tommy grinned. "The driver was delivering floral arrangements for a wedding and became hyperoxic from cyanide poisoning."

"Cyanide poisoning?" Eddie parroted, blinking in surprise. "Where did she get cyanide poisoning from?"

"The flower arrangements," Tommy smirked. "Did you know if, when cut, cherry laurel sprigs release trace amounts of cyanide gas?"

Sylvie tilted her head, impressed. "I did not."

"Sounds like you found yourself a keeper, then?" Eddie asked.

"I think so," Tommy grinned, walking to restock the ambulance.

The squad paramedics watched her leave, and Eddie sighed. "Poor Nancy."

"If she's that sold on him, I don't know what more I can do," Sylvie whispered.

"There might not be anything," Eddie admitted. "Guess when she comes back, she'll have a new partner."

***

Matt didn't know Jason Pelham very well, but considering Greg Grainger, of all of them, looked like he had a much shorter fuse than usual, this could all go south very quickly.

"You got no right to do this!" the delivery man they were trying to stop shouted, storming up to his truck. "I don't get these orders out, that's my ass on the line!"

He reached up to close the truck, but Pelham was quicker, reaching up and stopping him from shutting the truck. "Well, guess it's your ass, then," he smiled like a shark. "This truck ain't going anywhere."

The man fumed, turning as a blonde woman walked out of the building. "Ms. Heimark!" he called. "Hey, these guys just came barging in here, telling me I can't make my run!"

"What is this, another surprise inspection?" she frowned, looking from officer to officer.

"We're not with Fire Prevention, ma'am," Matt shook his head. "We're from Firehouse 51 and 40."

"Well," Heimark said slowly, looking around exaggeratedly. "I don't see anything on fire, so why are you telling my drivers what they can and can't do?"

"You in charge here, ma'am?" Kelly asked.

"I am," she nodded. "Marcy Heimark."

"Well, Marcy," Kelly gestured to the detergent piled in the truck. "Your detergent is starting fires at laundromats all over town."

"At least eleven that we're aware of," Grainger added.

Heimark blinked slowly. "What?" she asked, clearly not believing them.

"It clings to clothes and ignites inside of commercial dryers," Kelly nodded.

"Hang on," Heimark scoffed. "Dryers are a very common fire hazard, as I'm sure you're aware, especially in winter."

"True," Pelham nodded as Kelly reached for one of the available boxes of the detergent. "But every fire we've responded to hasn't been caused by mechanical defects."

Kelly opened the box he grabbed, and Heimark frowned. "What are you doing?"

"The burn patterns indicate that the clothes were contaminated with a substance that reacted exothermically," Kelly said.

Heimark stared at him, then laughed. "I'm sorry, you're firemen, right?" she pointed from man to man. Pelham's fingers curled into a fist, and Grainger's eyes narrowed to slits. Kelly, meanwhile, ignored Heimark's words as he pulled out a pack of matches and ignited one. "We deal with product safety inspectors at the state and federal level who – "

Kelly dropped his lighted match onto the powder on the ground, and he took one step back as the detergent immediately combusted, the flames shooting up to chest level. "Yeah, ma'am," Grainger said icily. "We're firemen. Officers, at that. We know what we're talking about."

"Marcy, your detergent is contaminated with some sort of combustible fuel," Kelly said, gesturing down at the flames, then stomped on the powder to extinguish it.

Heimark swallowed hard, unable to take our eyes off the black spot on the sidewalk.

***

As Grainger and Pelham went with Heimark to investigate further, Matt leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes. He really needed another few pills of aspirin and made a mental note to grab them at the firehouse.

A hand landed on his shoulder, then shifted to his neck, and Matt's eyes slipped closed as Kelly found the tight spots and kneaded them away. "You OK?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Matt nodded, rolling out the rest of the kinks in his neck. "Must be the fumes from that junk."

Kelly didn't look so convinced, but he couldn't respond as Heimark exited the building, Grainger and Pelham behind her. None of them looked happy. "We recently switched chemical suppliers, and it's possible they sent us something that was mislabeled," she said. "We've never had this problem before."

Kelly sighed. That would do it, he thought. "How many units have you distributed since the changeover?" Matt asked.

"A lot," Heimark admitted. "We haven't shipped any of this batch out of state yet, but we've been making deliveries across the Chicago area . . . about a thirty-mile radius." Matt balked, and Heimark hastened to say, "But don't worry, we are halting production until we get to the bottom of this."

"That's not good enough," Kelly shook his head rapidly. "You've got to track down every box you've sold and make sure not even one more gets used in a load of laundry."

Heimark shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's just not feasible. You're talking about hundreds of laundromats, nursing homes, uniform suppliers . . . "

Kelly huffed, turning to Matt. "Here's what we're gonna do," he said. "You take Squad back to the firehoue and cover for me. I'll stay here," he turned to Heimark, "and we are going to make a lot of phone calls, 'cause if we don't, someone's gonna end up dead." He looked at Grainger and Pelham. "One of you wanna stick around and help?"

"Maybe the more diplomatic of you two?" Matt smirked.

Grainger raised an eyebrow. "Do you need diplomacy or someone to get people's asses moving?"

"The last one," Kelly answered.

Grainger immediately pointed to Pelham, who raised his hand with a cocky grin. "Guess I'm sticking around."

"Then we're headed back to 51," Grainger gestured to Matt.

The two officers left, and Kelly followed Heimark with Pelham. "So," Pelham cleared his throat "Just to settle my curiosity . . . does this happen often to you?"

"Me and Casey?" Kelly grinned. "This is honestly one of the easier days."

Pelham laughed. "Man, I love the CFD."

***

"Oh, no," Joe stared in mock horror as only Matt and Grainger jumped off the Squad rig. "It finally happened."

"What?" Matt blinked in confusion.

"You're right," Capp nodded solemnly. "One of them finally snapped and killed the other. Severide's dead."

Matt groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You three are awful."

"We take after our lieutenant, Cap," Tony smirked.

Grainger snickered at the pained look on Matt's face. "What's the saying? Monkey see, monkey do?"

"Don't encourage them," Matt muttered, heading for the doors.

He was almost knocked off his feet when Mouch burst out. "Casey!" he panted. "I got a real emergency!"

"What's the matter?" Matt asked in concern, rubbing the back of his head as he regained his balance.

"I thought I had two days to prepare, but there was some kind of mix-up, and now they want to see me today in twenty minutes!" Mouch panicked, eyes wide.

Matt blinked slowly, trying to connect dots that didn't exist in his head. "Back up," he shook his head. "What's this about?"

"My audition," Maouch explained. "Pipes and Drums." Grainger snorted in amusement, quickly turning to cough into his arm to disguise his previous sound. "I was hoping, since Truck's still out of action, maybe you'd let me run down to the union hall real quick."

Matt gave Grainger a bewildered look, the engine lieutenant trying extremely hard not to laugh again. "Sure," he finally nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thanks, Casey!" Mouch grinned widely, running for the locker room doors.

"Hey, Mouch!" Matt called after him with a grin. "Knock 'em dead!"

Mouch beamed, giving him a thumbs up before continuing his run. When he disappeared, Grainger finally guffawed. "I didn't know one of your guys was a pipes player, Casey."

"Yeah, I was today years old when I learned that, too," Matt admitted, walking into the firehouse.

Grainger was still chuckling as they entered the common room, where Gallo was rummaging through large paper bags. "Hey, Captain!" Gallo waved. "Oh, Lieutenant Grainger! Nice to see you again."

"You, too, Gallo," Grainger saluted, then pointed at the coffee maker. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out," Matt nodded.

"I figured I'd go on a grocery run since Truck is out of service," Gallo gestured to the shopping bags.

"Good thinking," Matt praised.

Gallo found a white bottle in one bag, and he held it up for Matt to see. "Picked up some more aspirin," he said, putting it on the counter by him. "You can put that in your locker. I got another one for the house."

Matt paused, examining the bottle. "Thanks, Gallo," he said sincerely, picking up the bottle and tapping a few pills into his hand.

Grainger frowned. "You're still getting headaches?" he asked.

"Head started bothering me after Severide ignited that detergent," Matt tried to brush the worry off. "It's nothing."

Grainger gave Matt the most impressive unimpressed face ever, and Matt had seen Deputy Chief Radford stare down Deputy Chief De Leon in San Angelo. Gallo cleared his throat, looking at Matt. "Not to pry anymore . . . but can I say just one thing?"

Matt snorted. "You really crave the rolled-up newspaper, don't you?"

"No, I don't, really," Gallo shook his head. "But, uh . . . remember how you called me out after the gas station fire?"

"Uh huh," Matt nodded.

"You were mad because, by not reporting my situation, I robbed you of your accountability."

Matt gestured to him to get to the point. "I said I remember."

"Well," Gallo trailed off. "It's kind of a two-way street, isn't it?"

Matt folded his arms. "Meaning?" he prompted.

Gallo sighed. "How can your firefighters look out for their captain if he's withholding information from them about his own situation?" Matt blinked, staring at Gallo in surprise. "That's it," Gallo cleared his throat, going back to the shopping bags.

A cell phone rang, and Grainger hastily swallowed his sip of coffee, looking through his pockets. "That's Jason's ringtone," he said, and Matt put the aspirin bottle down as Grainger answered the phone. "Jason?" he said. "You're on speaker."

"We got it, Greg," Pelham said, and Matt saw Herrmann look up from where he was going over reports at the table. "We know what the problem with the detergent is."

"Thanks to a shoddy supplier, Marcy's people ended up with methanol in their detergent instead of sodium lauryl sulfate," Kelly put in.

"How's it going rounding up the bad batch?" Matt asked.

"We've contacted just about every customer who received any, but there's still one truck out there making deliveries," Kelly answered. "Driver won't answer his phone, so we're pinging his GPS unit."

"Did you find him?" Pelham asked.

"Yeah, we located the truck," Heimark answered. "He's at one of our clients right now, but he's still not answering his phone."

"Did you try calling the client?"

"We've been calling them, they're not answering, either."

Herrmann frowned uneasily. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Where is this place?" Kelly asked.

"1492, West 18th Street," Heimark answered.

Grainger looked up sharply. "Greg and I passed that place on our way here," he said. "It's close to 51."

"Sev, we're checking it out," Matt said.

"Copy that!"

Grainger hung up, and Matt pointed at Herrmann. "If this goes to hell, get your crew ready."

"You got it," Herrmann nodded, heading for the bunks.

"How fast can we get there?" Matt asked Grainger as they ran for the doors.

"Pretty damn fast," Grainger smirked. "We took the battalion vehicle."

Matt tripped over his feet. "You took the battalion vehicle?" he asked in disbelief.

"We don't have a battalion chief at our station!" Grainger rapidly explained, grabbing his turnout coat from where it hung on Squad 3. "No one was gonna need it!"

Matt laughed, grabbing his own coat. "And you're the sane one of our little group?"

Grainger grinned. "I blame you and Severide."

"We all do!" Kelly's crew chorused from their table.

***

"It's right up here," Matt pointed. "End of the block."

Grainger nodded, then frowned. "And that truck is on fire."

Matt groaned, seeing the delivery truck indeed had smoke pouring out from it. Grainger swerved into the parking lot, and the two officers left the vehicle, turnout gear on. "Hey," the driver waved to them in frustration. "My exhaust is smoking. I can't figure it out."

"Back up, now!" Grainger ordered, waving him back.

Matt crouched to look under the truck, and he reached for his radio. "Engine 51, roll out to 1502 West 18th," he ordered.

"What's the big deal?" the driver scowled. "It's probably just a plastic bag stuck to the catalytic."

"Yeah, I'd believe that," Grainger scowled, tapping the truck with his Halligan. "If the smoke was coming from the catalytic and not your cargo!"

Matt scowled, turning to the driver. "Next time, answer your office when they call you," he snapped. "Then you'd know you're not driving a truck. You're driving a damn bomb!"

The driver stumbled back, paling rapidly, and Grainger hurried back to the battalion vehicle, grabbing his and Matt's helmets. "About how much detergent are you carrying?" he asked.

"Four pallet loads," the driver answered nervously.

Grainger swore, looking at Matt. "That's gonna level the whole block," he said, clicking his radio on. "Engine 51, get your foam working as soon as you land."

"Copy that, Lieutenant," Herrmann answered.

51's sirens started getting louder, and Matt gestured for the driver and his passenger to back away. "Move back," he ordered.

Engine 51 pulled into the parking lot, and Grainger rushed to help them get everything set up. A silver SUV pulled in behind them, and Matt watched Heimark get out of the driver's seat, her eyes wide as she took in the smoking detergent truck. Kelly and Pelham were right behind her. "What happened?" Kelly demanded.

"Detergent leaked through the floorboards," Matt answered. "Hit the hot exhaust."

Pelham looked at the amount of smoke pouring from the truck, and he shook his head. "The moment we open that tailgate, we flood the truck with oxygen."

"We don't really have much of a choice," Matt sighed, taking the end of the hose. "Any volunteers to open the door?"

The two younger officers exchanged looks, then Pelham shrugged. "What the hell," he said, holding out a hand. Grainger tossed him his Halligan, and the floater lieutenant headed to the truck. "I'm in it to the end!"

Kelly looked torn between staying with Matt and going to help Pelham. Grainger, however, planted himself behind Matt, hand on the captain's shoulder. "I got him here," he promised.

Kelly finally nodded, jogging to join Pelham at the truck. "Who'd've thought we'd ever be here?" Matt snorted, pulling the hose off his shoulder.

"If you asked me before Brett left?" Grainger grinned. "Definitely not me."

Kelly pressed the back of his hand against the door, and he winced. "Really heating up in there!" he warned.

"51?" Grainger called over his shoulder.

"Almost there!" Herrmann yelled back. Pelham swung with the Halligan, removing the lock from the door. "Charging the line!" Herrmann finally called.

Matt tested the hose, nodding when he got a full blast in response. He looked up at Kelly and Pelham, and both men nodded, getting a grip on the door. "OK, everyone," he said into his radio. "Take cover!"

"Back out!" Herrmann waved his crew behind the engine. "Back out!"

Grainger watched with an eagle eye, then patted Matt's shoulder. "Clear!" he called.

Matt nodded to Kelly and Pelham, and the two lieutenants looked at each other. "One," Kelly counted.

"Two," Pelham nodded.

"Three!" Kelly grunted, he and Pelham lifting and opening the door. Flames came rolling out, and the two men dove to the ground to avoid getting burned. Matt started the line immediately, Grainger supporting him from behind. The two officers doused every box of detergent they could see, Kelly and Pelham backing up, ready to lend a hand if needed. Foam dripped from the truck in copious amounts, and Kelly inched forward, peering into the truck. He finally turned around, cutting his hand across his neck. "It's all good!" he announced.

Grainger whooped in glee, and Matt laughed, cutting off the line. Herrmann and his crew ran around the engine to start cleaning up, and Grainger handed the hose over to an awed Ritter. "I have never had this much fun before," the engine lieutenant grinned, looking over the truck. "I mean, horrible circumstances . . . but wow!"

"And you're telling me this is an easy day?" Pelham looked from Matt to Kelly.

"Honestly?" Matt grinned. "Pretty easy, yeah."

Pelham whistled, grinning like a cat who caught a canary. "Damn. I need to float around District 4 more often!"

***

"Ladder 126. Squad 9. EMS 126. EMS 99. Person down, unknown cause."

***

"Well," Eddie swallowed, looking out across the honest to God minefield to where a teenage boy cradled his brother in his arms. "Found the cause."

"Neighbor said the field spans 50 yards in each direction," Officer Trumbull told Owen as the captain looked through binoculars. "Every antipersonnel mine under the sun. Guy was a frequent flyer at the army surplus store."

"Do you have any idea where he buried these things?" Owen asked.

"I guess he did," Trumbull shrugged.

Owen lowered the binoculars, nodding pointedly to the scattered limbs across the minefield. "I guess he didn't."

He passed the binoculars to Sylvie, and she zoomed in on the two boys. She immediately frowned. "Owen, I don't like what I'm seeing," she said. "That's a lot of blood."

"Hey, Cap!" Judd called, stepping out from the cabin of the Ladder. "Bomb squad's still 40 minutes out."

Sylvie's face dropped, and Owen winced. He didn't like that look one bit. "How long does the boy have?" he asked.

"Not 40 minutes," she answered. "Half an hour?" She shook her head, taking another look at the blood. "Probably less." She shook her head. "He's gonna need a transfusion just to make it to a hospital."

Owen nodded, looking out over the minefield, thinking rapidly. "Alright," he said. "We'll do this on foot." He turned around. "Buck, get me the 3-inch line," he ordered. "TK, some heavy ropes. Mateo, I need the biggest duffel we got and some spray paint."

"Spray paint?" Mateo repeated.

"Brighter, the better," Owen confirmed. "Let's go!" The three sprinted to do as ordered. "And Sylvie?" he turned.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning to him.

Owen grimaced. "Lightest shirt you got. We're gonna be moving quickly, you need to be as mobile as possible."

Eddie, who had been searching through their ambulance for transfusion equipment, froze in his actions. "What?" he asked.

Sylvie swallowed. "Copy," she nodded, heading for the ambulance.

"Whoa," Pearce spun around, face paling rapidly. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious," Owen said grimly, shrugging his jacket off. "I'm doing the same. And make sure it's long-sleeves!" he called to Sylvie.

"Got it!" she nodded, grabbing her bag and heading to the front of the ambulance.

"You're taking her out there?" Pearce demanded. "That is suicide!"

Owen raised an eyebrow coolly. "You want to go instead?" he asked. "That boy could probably use the paramedic with a perfect record under his belt."

"I have a perfect record because I don't do things like walking into minefields," Pearce said slowly. "I'm not the bomb squad!"

"That kid needs a transfusion to survive to meet the bomb squad," Owen retorted.

"Captain Strand," Eddie began.

"You know what?" Tommy held up her hands. "It's OK. No one is gonna be penalized for refusing to do something they think is unsafe."

Owen snorted. "Wrong line of work, don't you think?"

"Captain Strand," Eddie said insistently.

Owen turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Eddie looked him in the eye. "I'm going, too."

Buck, who had been in the process of returning with the 3-inch line, almost dropped said line. "What?" his eyes widened.

"Eddie," Owen began.

"No," Eddie shook his head. "Say what you want, but if Sylvie's going out there, then so am I."

"Eddie," Sylvie walked back from the front of the ambulance, now in a light grey long-sleeve shirt with the AFD logo. "I'll be fine. Owen's gonna be out there with me the whole time."

"Until he isn't," Pearce muttered.

"If you don't have anything helpful to say, Pearce, then shut the hell up and don't say anything at all," Eddie snapped.

Pearce's eyes sharpened. "What did you say to me?"

"I said shut up," Eddie growled. "And I got hired ahead of you, so you better listen." Pearce's mouth clicked shut, and Eddie turned to Sylvie. "You promised Chris you'd have my back, right?" he said.

"I did," Sylvie confirmed.

"That goes both ways," Eddie said firmly. "You are my captain, and you are my partner. I am always going to have your back. I was a medic in the army, I treated injuries like this all the time. I'm dual-certified; what Captain Strand knows to do, so do I. We are both certified for action like this, and it's probably better that kid has two medics helping him than just one."

Sylvie stared at him with wide eyes, completely speechless. In all her years as a paramedic, she had never heard that kind of declaration of loyalty from anyone. "Eddie," Owen said quietly. "Are you sure?"

Eddie turned to him, eyes burning. "She doesn't go into that minefield without me," he said with finality.

Owen took a deep breath. "Then here's what you're going to do."

***

"How can you watch this?" TK asked Buck in disbelief as Eddie and Sylvie made their way across the ladder and over the minefield.

"Says the one watching it," Buck muttered, teeth gritted as he watched Eddie reach the end of the ladder and adjust the duffel over his shoulder.

"Yeah," TK admitted freely. "But it's not the guy I love that's about to jump into a minefield."

Buck was so tightly strung, he didn't even argue. "You're so not helping right now, TK."

"Boys," Owen warned.

Eddie peered down at the minefield, then turned to watch Sylvie balance on the ladder, tightly holding the transfusion equipment. "You ready?" he asked.

"No," Sylvie admitted, glancing over the edge of the ladder. "Then again, who's ever ready to willingly jump into a minefield?"

"Good point," Eddie admitted, slinging the duffel off his shoulder. "Look at it this way, though."

"Yeah?" Sylvie raised an eyebrow.

Eddie gave her a tight smile. "If we die doing this, Casey and Severide are gonna kill me and not you."

Sylvie cringed. "Oh, God, don't remind me."

Eddie grinned. "Here we go."

He tossed the duffel out into the field, and when it hit the ground, he and Sylvie crouched down, anticipating an explosion. The firefighters on the ground flinched back instinctively, waiting for a boom.

Silence loomed instead, and Eddie sighed in relief. "Great start," he said, jumping off the ladder and onto the duffel. He held out his arms to balance his landing, then he tugged the can of orange spray paint from his harness. He sprayed a thick line of paint in the grass around where the duffel landed, then he tossed the duffel a little further. Again, no explosion happened, and Eddie jumped again. "Right," he looked up at Sylvie as she reached the end of the ladder. "Just jump into the orange ring."

Sylvie sank her teeth into her lip, looking down at the ground. She steeled herself, sent a quick prayer to the sky, then jumped from the ladder. Owen closed his eyes, and TK turned, unable to look. Sylvie yelped when her boots hit the ground, but she landed safely inside the circle, safe for the moment. "Oh, thank God," Buck sighed in relief.

"Just so everyone knows?" Owen's voice wavered. "Dibs not telling Casey and Severide this is happening."

"Noted," Tommy nodded.

The squad paramedics continued to jump their way across the minefield, Eddie throwing the duffel to ensure they didn't hit mines and spraying rings for Sylvie to follow. "Man, I can't look at this," Paul gave up, turning away.

"I can't stop looking," Marjan admitted.

"How you boys doing?" Eddie called, close enough that he knew he could hear an answer.

"My brother's hurt!" the brother still awake whimpered. "He's bleeding real bad!"

"That's a good sign, actually," Eddie said. "Alright, we're coming toward you." He tossed the bag one more time, just inches from the boys.

The duffel was there one second, then gone the next. Sylvie screamed, covering her head when one of the mines was triggered, and Eddie hastily ducked, covering his neck in case shrapnel hit him. "Sylvie!" Owen shouted, about to run forward if not for Tommy lunging forward to hold him back.

"Eddie!" Buck's strangled cry was louder, TK's hand white where he held Buck back by the arm.

"I'm fine!" Sylvie managed to say into her radio.

"We're good!" Eddie responded after her.

Owen sagged in relief, turning around and leaning on Tommy for support. "They're good, Owen," Tommy murmured, squeezing his shoulder. "They're good."

Eddie checked Sylvie behind him, then looked at the boys. "Did you boys get hurt with anything?" he asked.

"No," the boy still awake shook his head.

Eddie nodded, then jumped into the blackened area where the mine was triggered. He sprayed one last circle for Sylvie, then jumped to join the boys. "That's one," Buck licked his lips, swaying slightly on his feet.

Sylvie hopped from her ring to the next, then jumped to join Eddie. "And that's both of them," Judd grinned.

Buck's legs buckled, and TK went down with his partner, whispering words of encouragement. "They're incredible," Tommy whispered.

"I know," Owen agreed.

"Alright," Sylvie snapped on a pair of gloves, Eddie opening the chest with their equipment. "My name is Sylvie, and this is Eddie. Can you tell me your name?"

"Danny," the boy sniffed. "This is Wes. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn't."

"Hey, you did great," Sylvie assured him. "You slowed it down, and you kept your brother alive."

"Sylvie? Eddie?" Owen's voice crackled through their radios. "Keep us updated back here, if you can."

Sylvie nodded, clicking her radio so it remained on as they worked. "He's breathing," she said, assessing Wes. "Looks like shrapnel nicked his femoral. Eddie, start the saline line while I tourniquet his leg."

"Copy that," Eddie nodded, handing her the tourniquet as he found the saline line.

Sylvie gently rubbed Wes's sternum, and the boy blearily looked at her. "Hi, Wes," she smiled. "I'm about to put a tourniquet on your leg, and I'm sorry . . . it's going to hurt. Once that's done, Eddie's going to give you some blood." Wes nodded weakly, and Sylvie wrapped the tourniquet around Wes's upper leg. Once it was in place, she started twisting, securing the tourniquet in place. Wes moaned in pain, and Sylvie turned. "Eddie?"

He nodded, and she shifted so Eddie could come closer. "Alright, Wes," Eddie unwound the line. "This is gonna make you feel a million times better, buddy." He held up the saline bag, giving it to Danny. "Hold this for your brother, OK?" Danny nodded, taking the saline bag. "Just a little sting . . . "

He inserted the line of blood into Wes's hand, and Sylvie gently adjusted Danny's hold. "Keep the blood up," she instructed.

"And now the good stuff," Eddie started the flow.

Wes's head suddenly thudded against his boot, and he looked down in alarm to see Wes limp on the ground. "Wes?" Danny whimpered as Sylvie pressed her fingers to the boy's neck. "Wes?" He looked up, eyes wide. "He's dying!"

"No pulse," Sylvie reported for the rest of the 126. "Eddie, squeeze the saline bag while I do compressions."

"Copy," Eddie nodded, taking the saline bag from Danny.

Sylvie counted under her breath as she bent over Wes, completing the compressions. "Come on," she muttered, bending down to listen for a pulse. "Come on, Wes."

Wes suddenly moaned, stirring under her hands, and Eddie laughed in relief. "He's awake!" he reported. "He's alive!"

"Yeah, Squad!" Owen whooped, clapping in relief.

The rest of the 126 burst into cheers and applause, TK tackling Buck to the ground in a hug; Mateo, Marjan, and Paul joined the pile without further prompting. Sylvie giggled at their antics, looking up at Eddie. "Told you we get all the fun, didn't I?"

Eddie shook his head fondly, and Danny sobbed, looking down at his brother. "Why are you always trying to leave me?" he demanded.

"I'm not the one leaving, kid," Wes slurred. "And you still gotta pack."

Sylvie laughed. "Spoken like brothers." She nodded back to the 126, where five of the firefighters were roughhousing, much to the amusement of Judd. "And I've got a golden retriever and a grumpy cat."

Eddie snickered. "You left out a few back in Chicago."

"Yeah, I did," Sylvie said fondly, then snorted when sirens pierced the air. "Oh, and here comes the cavalry."

"'Bout time," Eddie watched the bomb squad roll up to the scene. "I'd rather not have to go back the way we came."

"Definitely enough hopscotch for me today," Sylvie agreed.

Eddie looked at Danny crushing Wes in a careful hug, then looked up at Sylvie. "Thank you," he said, making her look up at him. "For getting me out here to Austin. We make a good team."

Sylvie beamed. "Damn right, we do."

Eddie laughed, accepting her hug when she offered one.

***

"You wanted to see me, Captain – ?" Pearce began as he walked into the paramedic captains' office, only to freeze when he saw it wasn't Tommy waiting for him inside. "Brett," he finished.

"I did," Sylvie nodded, waving him inside as she flipped through his paperwork again. "Come on in, Pearce." Pearce nodded, carefully shutting the door behind him. "What kind of paramedic am I, Pearce?" she asked abruptly.

Pearce blinked. "I'm sorry, Captain?"

"What kind of paramedic am I?" she repeated, looking up at him.

"Uh . . . " Pearce swallowed. "Is this a trick question?"

Sylvie raised an eyebrow. "What crew am I assigned to, Pearce?"

"The squad company," Pearce answered at once.

"The squad company," Sylvie nodded. "Which means as a squad paramedic, I know the risks I jump into when I'm needed. So does Eddie. Now," she folded her arms. "Suppose we didn't have squad paramedics at this house. Or there wasn't even a squad, like the 126 was less than a year ago. No me and Eddie. Who would the task of crossing that minefield go to?"

"Captain Strand, for one," Pearce answered.

"And a medic," Sylvie nodded. "I would like an honest answer from you, Pearce . . . would you have crossed that minefield if Captain Strand asked?"

Pearce swallowed hard. "I don't think I would have been comfortable with it, ma'am."

Sylvie hummed, tapping her fingers on her desk. "Not quite an answer." Pearce held her gaze, and Sylvie straightened in her seat. "Captain Vega was right," she said. "A paramedic at this house will not be punished or penalized in any way for refusing to do something they feel is not safe."

"Well, I never assumed I would be," Pearce said. "And if I was, I'd go straight to a union rep, or maybe a lawyer."

Sylvie nodded in understanding. "You called sending me into that minefield suicide," she said. "And then two paramedics had two very different responses. You bailed. Eddie volunteered himself in Captain Strand's place." She stood from her desk. "The paramedic who was once in your place was killed in the line of duty," she said. "Do you know how he died, Pearce?"

"He got hit by a lava bomb," Pearce deadpanned.

"He sacrificed himself to save my life," Sylvie corrected; judging by the shocked look on Pearce's face, he hadn't known that. "Paramedic Tim Rosewater died a hero by diving headfirst into danger, and he had no second thoughts. Because saving people, no matter the cost, was part of the code he lived by here at the 126." Pearce was silent, the air crackling with tension around the chief paramedic of the 126. "'I will serve unselfishly and continuously in order to help make a better world for all mankind,'" Sylvie recited. "Tim Rosewater lived by that oath, and he died by that oath. That oath is what drives every action the 126 takes. It's not perfect, and neither are we . . . but if we don't run into the danger zone, who else will?"

Pearce didn't respond. "I don't pull my rank as chief paramedic often here at the house, but I did on this decision," Sylvie continued. "Fortunately, Captain Vega agreed with me. Pearce, you are an exceptionally talented medic . . . but if holding your perfect record is more important to you than honoring the oath Tim Rosewater held steadfast to . . . I'm sorry. You aren't a good fit for this house." Pearce merely nodded, accepting her decision. "I wish you luck, Pearce," she finished, extending her hand.

"You, too, Captain," Pearce nodded, shaking her hand. "And for the record? I'm glad you and Diaz made it out of there."

Sylvie gave a crooked smile. "I trust my partner. That's all there is to it."

Pearce nodded, leaving the office. He didn't look back at the office as he left down the stairs, and Sylvie returned to her desk, looking through Pearce's paperwork as quiet footsteps entered. "It's done?" Eddie asked.

"It's done," Sylvie confirmed with a sigh, sitting on the edge of her desk and rubbing the back of her neck.

Eddie gestured next to her. "May I?" She nodded wordlessly, and Eddie sat on the edge next to her. "Quite the speech you gave."

Sylvie sighed, putting the papers down. "Tim and Nancy were two of the first people at the 126 to have an idea of why I left Chicago," she revealed. "It was their words that encouraged me to at least let Matt and Kelly know I was OK. When Tim shoved me out of the lava bomb's path and died instead . . . " She shook her head. "I can't tell you how long I kept thinking that should have been me."

"Survivor's guilt," Eddie identified grimly. "It's a bitch."

"It is," Sylvie agreed. "Especially once it sinks in and you think if it had been the other way around . . . I would have done exactly what Tim did." She watched Pearce head for the locker room. "It didn't matter if the danger led to his death. Tim did whatever he could to serve unselfishly, and he died upholding that oath. It would be a stain on his memory to have Pearce here when he values a perfect record over a little risk."

"What's the saying?" Eddie tilted his head. "You find out who your true friends are when they run into the fire with you?"

"Something along those lines," Sylvie agreed, then looked at him. "Although . . . you basically shoved Owen out of the way to take his place."

"I meant what I said," Eddie shrugged. "There was no way you were going into that field without me. We're partners, Sylvie. I take that seriously."

Sylvie bit her lip. "Everything you said before we went out there . . . I think there's only one paramedic I've had as a partner who has ever demonstrated that kind of loyalty," she whispered. "Dawson, she wanted to be a firefighter more than a paramedic. Chili . . . she ended up being a mess. Borelli ended up the same way. Foster got being a paramedic as a consolation prize, she always wanted to be a doctor. Mackey . . . I wasn't in Chicago long enough to know where it would go with her. I've always thought of Mills as my ride or die." She smirked at Eddie. "Guess you just stole his spot."

"I will happily steal it," Eddie chuckled. "You're my partner. I'm supposed to be your ride or die."

Sylvie laughed, leaning her head on Eddie's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here."

Eddie leaned his head against hers. "Me, too."

Outside the door, Tommy closed her eyes and bowed her head. Sylvie was right . . . in Tommy's time as a paramedic, she had never heard that admission of loyalty from any paramedic under her command. Eddie had ripped into Pearce for daring to suggest Sylvie wouldn't be safe. He had then taken the lead, putting himself in prime danger position so his captain wouldn't be. The way they effectively worked together, right in the middle of danger and never batted an eye . . . Tommy couldn't help but admire them. She even felt slightly jealous of that kind of partnership. They were just on their second shift together, and they were practically perfect. That kind of partnership was one in a million, and one Tommy desired to have. And yet . . .

Tommy's gaze drifted back to her own desk, eyes landing where a certain paramedic had been resting her leg just one shift ago. Maybe it was possible to have that kind of partnership after all.

***

"And so the plane comes swooping down again," Buck continued, Owen and TK nodding as they listened.

He stopped mid-sentence when Pearce jogged down the stairs, now in civvies. "Later," he said curtly, walking past Paul at the espresso machine.

Marjan held up her hand to wave, but Pearce was already gone. Paul whistled lowly, shaking his head. "And another one bites the dust," he said, turning around to the others. "Man, Vega's got them dropping like flies over there."

"Who said Vega was the one to drop him?" Owen smirked, taking a sip of his espresso. "Sylvie pulled chief paramedic rank."

"She did?" Marjan's eyes widened.

"Atta girl," Judd chuckled.

"Damn," Paul held out, looking up towards the paramedic office. "Paramedic Princess has knives."

"Oh, you should have heard her rip into Buck when she and Dad flew out to help the strike team," TK grinned. "She's got swords."

"She's tough," Buck nodded. "But so's the job."

"Especially considering the job might include jumping across a minefield," Owen nodded with a shudder. "That's gonna make it hard to sleep tonight."

"Same," Buck mumbled behind his own espresso.

"OK, but did you see Eddie posture over Pearce?" Mateo grinned, making Buck choke on his drink. "That was badass!"

"Sylvie chose a hell of a partner," Owen agreed. A sharp inhale from Paul made the man look over, and he frowned, seeing Paul stare at his phone in shock. "Paul?" he straightened. "What happened?"

"It's my mom," Paul swallowed, looking up. "They never made it out of town. Y'all . . . she's in the hospital!"

Marjan gasped, and Owen smacked the countertop with his palm. "Get changed," he ordered. "Go." Paul ran for the locker rooms, and Owen turned to Judd. "Is Grace off shift?" he asked.

"Yeah, she should have gotten off just a bit ago," Judd checked his watch. "She said she would be dropping by the firehouse to check in on us."

"Would she be willing to take Paul to the hospital?"

"I'll call her now," Judd stood, taking his phone from his pocket.

"God, I hope she's OK," TK swallowed.

***

"Thank you for this, Grace," Paul said in relief as they waited impatiently in the elevator.

"Any time, Paul," Grace smiled comfortingly at him. "Are you sure you want me up here with you?"

"I need someone to be the sane one," Paul admitted. "Not sure that's gonna be my sister with the conversation we had before this shift."

"Alright," Grace nodded.

The doors opened, and Paul sprinted out of the elevator to the desk. "I'm looking for Cynthia Strickland's room," he let out in a rush. "She texted me. She said that she was here. Her birthday is – "

"Paul!" Cynthia's voice called down the hall, and Paul turned to see her step out of one of the rooms. "Hey."

"Mama?" Paul's eyes widened, and he ran over to hug her. "Oh, my God. You said you were in the hospital! What's going on?"

"And so I am," Cynthia nodded, gesturing around the room.

"Are you OK?" Paul asked, looking her up and down.

"Honey, I'm fine," Cynthia promised. "It's your sister."

Paul felt like the floor dropped out from underneath him. "Naomi?" he asked in shock. "What's wrong with Naomi?"

"She had a little flare-up," Cynthia answered, opening the door to the room she exited.

"A flare-up?" Paul repeated. "A flare-up of what?"

"MS," Naomi answered quietly from her bed.

Paul stopped in his tracks, heart plummeting. "MS?" he repeated softly. "Since when have you had MS?"

"Since my diagnosis three years ago," she answered.

Paul gulped. "Three years?" he repeated, looking at Cynthia, who gave him a shrug. "Oh, Naomi . . . "

"Don't look at me like that, P," Naomi shook her head. "It's not like I'm dying tomorrow."

"What are your symptoms?" Paul asked, walking over.

"Usually starts with pins and needles in my feet and my vision goes blurry," Naomi answered. "After that, my balance."

"But she never complains," Cynthia said proudly, stopping at the foot of her bed.

Paul closed his eyes, finally understanding. "So this trip wasn't a bucket list for Mom, was it?" he asked. "It was for you."

Naomi nodded, smiling sadly. "I wanted to have an adventure while I still can." She smirked. "I don't care what you say, I'm ziplining through the rainforest, damn it."

"Yes, you are, baby," Cynthia agreed with a chuckle.

"Mama, how could you not have told me about this?" Paul demanded.

"I wanted to, son," Cynthia defended herself. "But . . . "

"It wasn't hers to tell," Naomi finished, raising an eyebrow. "Sucks, don't it? Having a bomb dropped on your head?"

Paul flinched, recalling the major argument they had before shift . . . how Naomi wasn't upset because she never dealt with him being transgender, but she was upset because he left as her sister one day and returned her brother, and nothing was ever explained, even when every memory of Paul before he transitioned was erased. "You're right," he agreed with a sigh, sitting on the bed next to her. "It really does." He fiddled with his hands. "Look, Naomi, I . . . I'm sorry I never dealt with you," he apologized. "I was just a kid myself when I first left home. I was seventeen, and I barely had the language or the understanding of what I was going through, let alone, you know, how to explain it to a nine-year-old."

Naomi nodded in agreement. "You were going through a lot."

"It's true," Paul nodded. "And I didn't consider what someone else was going through, but I should have, and that's on me, not you." He took her hand, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry you never got a chance to say goodbye to your big sister, but I didn't kill her. She never existed . . . not really."

"I do know that," Naomi admitted. "And I stopped missing her a long time ago." She swallowed, looking up at him with teary eyes. "But I do miss my big brother."

"Hey," Paul leaned down, making sure he looked her in the eyes. "Hey . . . I am right here," he promised. "And you have always had me."

"I know," Naomi sniffed, squeezing his hand back. "I love you, Paul."

Paul blinked, then a wide grin formed on his face. "You called me Paul."

Naomi giggled. "That's your name, right?"

Paul burst into relieved laughter, nodding through his tears. "Yeah," he agreed, lightly tugging her into a seated position to give her a hug.

"My babies!" Cynthia smiled proudly, wrapping both of her children in a hug.

Paul melted into his family's embrace, feeling Naomi bury her face into his neck. His heart felt a million times lighter, because now he knew it wasn't just his mother who accepted who he was . . . Naomi did, too.

***

Outside, Grace smiled, hands clasped as she watched the Strickland family hug. She silently stepped away from the room, pulling out her phone and texting Judd.

Grace: It looks like everything is OK. It's Paul's sister, not his mother.

Judd: Damn. How is she?

Grace smiled as she watched Naomi engage Paul in a lively conversation.

Grace: Better now that her brother is here.

Her phone abruptly rang, and Grace frowned, seeing it was her supervisor at the dispatch center. She answered and held her phone up to her ear, crossing to a quiet area of the waiting room. "This is Grace."

"Grace, hey," Elliot said. "I'm sorry I'm calling so soon after your shift ended."

"It's fine, Elliot," Grace assured him. "What can I do for you?"

"Well . . . " Elliot sighed. "I just received a call from a potential transfer to the center, and while I know a bit about this dispatcher, I think you're the one who should make the final call."

"A transfer?" Grace frowned. "Who're we talking about, Elliot?"

"I'll give you a hint." Elliot's voice was laced with amusement. "She's looking to transfer from Los Angeles, California."

Grace froze, a smile starting to form on her face. "Los Angeles, huh?"

"Los Angeles," Elliot confirmed. "Highly recommended by a Josh Russo, who I know you like, too."

Grace let out a delighted laugh. "And you just need me to say yes?"

"I just need you to say yes," Elliot confirmed.

"Hell yes!" Grace continued to laugh, hearing the door to Naomi's room open. "Yes, absolutely!"

"Then I'll give her the good news," Elliot chuckled. "Have a good evening, Grace."

"You, too, Elliot," Grace beamed.

"Grace?" Paul asked in confusion. "Everything good?"

"Oh, Paul," Grace turned with a wide smile. "Everything is perfect."

***

"Right," Kelly sat two beers down in front of Pelham and Grainger, then handed Matt's directly to him. "To no more flammable detergent floating around the city."

"And the best team-up I've had in a while," Matt added.

"I'm definitely drinking to that," Grainger chuckled, raising his beer.

"Cheers," Pelham grinned.

The four men clinked their beers together, taking a swig at the same time. "So," Matt looked at Pelham. "You're a floater lieutenant, huh?"

"Yeah," Pelham nodded. "Been doing it for a year now."

Kelly frowned in confusion. "You and Grainger graduated same year, right?"

"Been best friends and brothers since we started together," Grainger confirmed. "Got our ranks at about the same time, too."

"Then why are you permanently stationed and you're in the floater pool?" Matt asked in confusion, looking at Pelham.

The truck lieutenant winced. "I don't mind it, Casey."

"OK," Grainger shook his head, putting his bottle down firmly. "Jason, I told you – "

"I know what you told me, Greg," Pelham gritted his teeth. "We're not doing this."

"You can tell them!" Grainger insisted, narrowing his eyes. "If anyone in this department can help you, it's them!"

"Wait," Kelly looked back and forth between them in confusion. "What happened?"

"Greg," Pelham began.

"I mean it, Jason," Grainger hissed. "You can tell them what happened at Whiskey Point!"

"What happened at Whiskey Point?" Matt asked, now fully invested in whatever happened to his new friend.

Pelham took a long swig of his beer, then put it down on the table. "Look," he said slowly. "I'll share at some point, alright? Just . . . not tonight." Grainger opened his mouth, but Pelham shook his head. "Greg, please."

Grainger closed his eyes, looking pained as he nodded. "Fine," he sighed. "Not tonight." He pointed at Pelham. "I'm holding you to that sharing, though."

"Yeah, I know," Pelham huffed. "Then you'll sic Evan on my ass, and that'll be even worse."

"Speaking of Hawkins," Kelly said slowly. "What's up with that cat?"

Pelham guffawed, covering his mouth to avoid spitting beer everywhere. "Oh, my God," Grainger's shoulders shook. "I keep telling him to put it in a shelter – "

"To which I keep saying he shouldn't, because that cat should not be unleashed on anyone else," Pelham interrupted.

The two lieutenants were off, then a flash of ginger caught Matt's attention. He watched Will flag down Herrmann for a drink, then turn to Connor and Natalie, the three doctors snatching stools and sitting close together. Matt's gaze shifted to Gallo, who was laughing with Ritter at something, then he nudged Kelly. "I'll be right back," he said, lifting his almost empty beer in explanation.

"Sure," Kelly nodded in agreement, quickly drawn back in to Grainger and Pelham's storytelling.

Matt nodded, getting out of his chair and walking over to the three doctors. "Hey, guys," he greeted casually.

"Matt!" Natalie beamed, slipping off her chair and walking over. "It's good to see you!"

"Yeah, been a while since we've seen you," Connor agreed. "How are you?"

"Can't complain," Matt shrugged, accepting Natalie's tight hug. "Yourselves?"

The three exchanged looks, and Will smiled shyly. "Trying something out," he answered. "Overall, making it through the storm."

Matt nodded. "I know the feeling," he admitted. "Hey, um . . . a question for ya."

"Yeah?" Will asked, giving Matt his full attention.

Matt sighed, working out how to phrase what he wanted to say. "Buddy of mine, firefighter," he said. "He's had some issues lately." Connor's eyebrows shot up, and Natalie frowned, leaning forward and putting her chin on Connor's shoulder, both doctors listening attentively. "Got a head injury a while back, then started having headaches and some tunnel vision. Any advice?"

Natalie's eyes widened in shock, and Will and Connor exchanged startled looks. "Well," Will began.

Herrmann suddenly walked up, balancing three drinks. "Whose tab is it this time?" he asked.

Connor's hand raised before Natalie's even left the table. "Mine," he answered with a smug look.

Will rolled his eyes, and Natalie huffed. "At least let one of us pay for something at some point," she grumbled.

"Maybe," Connor smirked, sliding his card across the bar top. "Thanks, Herrmann."

Matt blinked, looking from Natalie's head on Connor's shoulder, her other hand clasped with Will's, and Will's arm across Natalie's shoulders with his hand on Connor's shoulder . . . and correctly added. "Hang on," he held up his hand. "Are the three of you . . . ?"

He wasn't sure how to finish his question, but the doctors knew what he was asking. "We're working it out," Will smiled. "But yeah. The three of us."

Matt smiled happily. He knew how much Will treasured both doctors and was treasured in return, and after the stories he'd heard of Connor and Natalie teaming up in the ER, he knew they felt the same about each other. "I'm happy for you three," he said sincerely. "And if you want to keep it quiet for a while . . . "

He mimed zipping his lips, pleased when he got three grateful smiles in return. "Thanks, Casey," Connor said. "That means a lot."

"Of course," Matt nodded.

"Now, about your friend . . . " Matt nodded, and Will shrugged. "Pretty easy advice on my front," he said. "I'd recommend your friend see a neurologist immediately."

Natalie hummed in agreement. "Especially if there's been any problems in the past."

Connor nodded gravely, agreeing with his partners. "You don't mess around with head injuries."

Matt's heart dropped into his stomach. "Good to know," he said slowly. "Thanks."

"You bet," Will nodded.

Natalie frowned, obviously reading something on Matt's face. "You sure you're OK, Matt?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah," Matt quickly nodded. "Just . . . don't think I should be sniffing flammable detergent any time soon."

Will's eyebrows shot up. "Flammable detergent?" he repeated.

"Does that have anything to do with how many patients we recently got from God only knows how many laundromat fires?" Connor asked.

Matt snorted. "Yeah," he nodded, turning to look at his three friends, the lieutenants all roaring in laughter. "It's a long story."

The three doctors all exchanged looks again (Matt shifted on his feet; they really had that wordless communication down pat, didn't they?), then Natalie shuffled over to Matt with an encouraging smile. "We have time," she prompted.

Matt laughed, then gestured for them to follow him. He led them over to the table, which made Kelly frown. "I don't think we have that many chairs that can fit here, Case."

"Oh, we don't need chairs," Connor shook his head.

"They just wanna hear about the solution to the laundromat fires," Matt smirked.

"We heard there was flammable detergent?" Natalie prompted, giving Kelly a pleading look.

And whenever Sylvie Brett, Natalie Manning, Hailey Upton, or Kim Burgess (but primarily Sylvie) gave a look like that, Kelly was helpless. He and Pelham exchanged grins, then Pelham launched into the start of the story. Matt sat back beside Kelly, laughing at Pelham's charm and enjoying his time with friends.

He would get back to the thought of a neurologist later.

***

"Seriously, though," Tommy smiled as Nancy carefully sat down at the desk next to her, adjusting her foot on the chair in front of her. "Thank you for coming in and helping out."

"I will hobble anywhere just to say 'I told you so,'" Nancy smirked smugly, then laughed at Tommy's exasperated look. "I knew that guy was too good to be true!"

"All right," Tommy huffed, flipping through the stack of papers in front of her to find the cut-off point. "Well, we need to go through this pile again, so you take A through L, and I'll do M through Z."

Nancy nodded, taking the stack handed to her, looking at the front page labeling the alphabetical order. "You know what'd be handy?" Tommy hummed expectantly, waiting for Nancy to start flipping. "If instead of special interests and hobbies, there was a section for annoying traits and habits. Do you smack your gum? Are you a backstabber? Do you faint at the sight of . . . " Nancy trailed off, and Tommy contained a smile as the young woman started to look through her stack. "Blood . . . Captain?"

"Yes?" Tommy asked.

"Um . . . " Nancy turned her stack towards Tommy, rapidly flipping through the papers. "This stack is blank."

"It is," Tommy agreed, then showed Nancy her pile. "Like mine."

Nancy blinked, looking up at Tommy in surprise. "But if we don't have any candidates to look through . . . "

"We don't," Tommy put her stack down. "Because we don't need to find any candidates." Nancy gingerly put her stack of printer paper down, and Tommy turned to face her completely. "I would like a simple, honest answer from you, Nancy," she said. "Do you want to find a third person for our crew?"

Nancy hesitated. "If it's something you think we need, Cap – "

"Nancy," Tommy said firmly. "Yes or no?"

Nancy swallowed, then slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't."

Tommy nodded. "Then we won't."

Nancy looked up in shock. "Cap?"

"I'm used to a three-person crew on an ambulance, Nancy," Tommy told her. "I've always had two paramedics under my command. Until these last few shifts, I've never seen what a two-person crew can do. I thought that meant short-handed." She shook her head. "And last shift, I saw that's not what it means at all. It can be done, but it needs work. So, here's what I propose." She clasped her hands and set them in her lap. "While your foot is on the mend, we go to the academy while off shift. There, we can work together to learn what it means to be a two-person team. When you're back, there won't be any third member of the team. It will be the two of us."

Nancy swallowed. "Just like Sylvie and Eddie?" she asked.

And Tommy's heart cracked when she heard the hope in her voice. "Just like Sylvie and Eddie," she confirmed. "It'll be you and me."

Nancy's smile lit up her face, and she squealed in delight. "Yes!" she cheered, looking like she wanted to jump up and down. "Yes! Oh, my God, thank you!"

Tommy laughed, scooting closer to allow Nancy to hug her. "You're welcome," she patted her back. "My first lesson is to listen to you from now on."

Nancy giggled. "I will happily remind you of that any day of the week."

***

Sylvie smiled happily, watching Tommy and Nancy from where she was checking off her inventory list. "And no more paramedics are biting the dust."

"So we are now officially a two-person teams only house?" Owen asked as he supervised Buck and TK doing inventory.

"Yep!" Sylvie beamed. "Me and Eddie, Tommy and Nancy."

"You know what's funny?" Buck grinned. "All your name's end similarly."

Eddie paused in checking their narcotics supply. "Damn. He's right."

Sylvie sniggered. "Maybe that's why no one else worked out."

"Yeah, we'll go with that," Owen said dryly.

TK's phone abruptly chirped, and he sighed, pulling his head out of one of the compartments and fishing for his phone. "That's probably Mom."

"Gwyn?" Owen tilted his head.

"Yeah, she had an appointment this morning to check on the baby," TK nodded, wrinkling his nose. "That feels weird to say."

"Is that because of your mom's age?" Eddie asked. "Or your age?"

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Didn't anyone tell you not to comment on a woman's age, Diaz?"

"He kind of gets a pass," TK shrugged. "Sylvie commented on it the other shift."

" . . . she's a woman."

Sylvie snorted loudly. "Gee, thanks for noticing, Owen."

Owen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not my point."

"OK, to answer Eddie's question," TK cut in. "It's weird to have a baby brother or baby sister at my age."

Owen smiled softly. "Well . . . any kid would be lucky to have you as a big brother."

TK smiled happily. "Now we'll just need to figure out how to have that relationship when Mom is in New York and I'm here in Austin."

Buck smirked. "I guess you could say . . . it'll be a minefield."

Owen groaned and hid his face in his clipboard as Sylvie and Eddie roared in laughter. "Too soon, Buckley," the fire captain warned. "Too soon."

TK checked his phone, and he perked up. "I'm getting a little brother!" he announced.

"Oh, yay!" Sylvie cheered, abandoning her clipboard to pounce on TK. "Congratulations!"

"Another Strand heartbreaker!" Eddie joked.

"Technically a Morgan," Owen corrected with a smile. "But good for Gwyn." Buck watched Sylvie and TK wrestle, then blinked when his phone rang. "What is with my squad and their phones today?" Owen rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Cap," Buck apologized, turning to take the call. "Hello?" Eddie went back to sorting through the fentanyl vials, then heard a sharp gasp from Buck. He looked out of the ambulance to see Buck frozen where he stood, eyes wide. He would have been far more worried about the other man had he not seen the utter glee filling his eyes. "Really?" Buck asked, smile growing on his face. "You're serious right now?" By that point, Owen looked over at Buck curiously, which meant TK and Sylvie were peering over mid-hug. "Oh, my God," Buck's smile widened. "Yes, that's amazing! Just tell me all the details once they're settled, alright? Yeah, talk later. Love you."

"Guessing that was Maddie?" Eddie asked

"Yeah," Buck nodded, looking like he was floating on Cloud Nine. "That was Maddie. She, uh . . . " He took a deep breath. "She got a job on Grace's shift at the dispatch center."

Sylvie's breath hitched, her eyes widening. "Wait," TK started to connect the dots as Eddie started to laugh in delight. "Does that mean – ?"

"Yeah," Buck nodded so quickly, Owen worried his head was about to fall off. "It's finally happening. Maddie's moving to Austin."

***

Well, good news, Pelham, there will be some golden opportunities for you in District 4. ;)

There's the first of our three trios established, and while you didn't see any lead-up other than the one time at Med, you will see what they're like in future chapters. You will see more build-up with Upstess, and . . . well, what else would you call what I'm putting Brettseyride through? XD

And finally, Maddie's on her way! Not much from the Los Angeles front, unfortunately, but there will be more from them in upcoming chapters as well. Some folks, after all, have not been to Buck's new stomping grounds.

Now, serious question for the next chapter . . . does anyone know if Sylvie, Eddie, and Buck have any metal in their bodies? I know Buck had the screws and got them taken out, but I'm not sure about anything else.

Anyway, the Chicago Fire episodes are on hold for a little while! There's a few Lone Star episodes to knock out before we get back to that fun storyline. Next time on "Displaced," family moves permanently to Austin, a few friends stop by . . . and a new character finally appears, and I know people have been looking forward to seeing this person.

graphic by marvelity