A/N: Oh it's starting.

[Leroy]

Days off resemble that one breath you take above the surface of the water on a dive; you think its deep and long but once you're hit with the currents and the pressure of liquid in your ears, you realize—it's short. The feeling is foreign. For the past couple of years, I was the kind of person who didn't need to breathe. I was good underwater; it doused the flames entirely and there was no need to keep watch.

I liked fighting fires.

It made me realize how stupid some people were and how much worse they could be when someone important to them was caught in one. Like I said; stupid, regardless. Fire or no fire, blood or no blood, human beings were going to be stupid. They were going to run into open flames to save a neighbor they never knew. Climb a tree to retrieve a kite for their kid and break a leg on their way back down. Save a cat, bleed from its scratch.

Gotta admit—we get a good laugh out of it.

"You told her to hold that bloody-ass finger of hers under a running tap for how long?"

Jaeger was doing it again. Repeating stuff back to people just to see if they could spot their own stupidity. The manager was having trouble understanding his accent.

"Ya I already told her to wash her finger because she cut the knife."

The part-timer who'd dropped a chopper on the counter and nearly sliced her co-worker's finger off his hand stood over to the side, bawling her eyes out. It was hard enough to hear Zales over the whir of the vents they had out in the back of the shophouse.

"Alright honey, just close your eyes. Will hurt just a tiny—" She sprayed the antiseptic.

"AW FUCK—" I'd held him in place as soon as the spray bottle came within reach.

"Done, see?" Zales kept the pressure on his hand whilst ripping off the packaging of a new bandage roll. I kept the casualty still. He was close to blacking out from the pain either way. "Just a pinch."

"Fuck, you guys are monsters."

I nearly laughed. Jaeger had resorted to pulling out the EMS trusty handbook, flipped to the page on bleeding cuts, do's and don't's. With visual aids. Over to the side, a couple of service crew members peering over every now and then. Curious.

For a medium-sized kitchen, they were pretty understaffed. Hiring newcomers just out of high school with zero experience in the kitchen wasn't going to be much of a surprise. Kids were here to make some pocket money and the mandatory one-off safety course they had to attend was the kind that taught babies how to eat without making a mess. Just doesn't happen.

"Alright darling, you're good. Just keep it iced," Zales wrapped up under a minute, patting the casualty on his back and nodding towards the kitchen's back door. He remained seated on the back of the ambulance. "Oh. You... um... hospital?"

I could tell from the look on her face exactly what she was thinking. He didn't need it.

"Are you sure I don't need stitches?"

"Actually, for a cut like that, you would have stopped bleeding after a couple of minutes if you, uh, hadn't put it under running water for, like, the time we took to get here." Zales cleared her throat, raising her voice a little just in case the manager was nearby and within earshot.

"I feel like I might pass out any minute," he insisted, so we gave in and had him strapped up in the back of the ambulance while Jaeger and I hung back to settle the rest. The tough part was getting the hyperventilating part-timer to calm down before she become our next casualty.

"Cox?"

I turned.

Curly hair. Dark skin. He looked familiar. "Andre's kitchen."

"I fucking knew it," he reached out a hand and pulled me in. The usual. "You never actually remembered my name."

"It's been five years," I pointed out, returning my attention to the girl and keeping an eye on her just in case she started crying again. Jaeger was still waiting on the restaurant's manager for some papers to be signed.

"Four," the guy corrected, smiling. "You're not, uh, cooking. Anymore." He took in my gear. The fire truck. The ambulance.

"Hamez!" Right. That's his name. The part-timer who had her face red with tears just a minute ago was for some reason glaring at her colleague. She nodded in the direction of the door. Hamez rolled his eyes.

"She thinks you're hot. By the way, hasn't Andre been looking for a sous chef for some time now?" He went on, pulling me aside like he used to on smoke breaks. The guy had a thing for gossip. "You should try that out. Can't imagine how good you must be right now."

I looked over at Jaeger. Still going at it.

"I'm full-time," I tapped my badge, directing his attention to it. "Haven't stepped into a kitchen for years."

"Woah... you serious? Not that I'm surprised, it's just... yeah come to think of it, Angie did say you weren't cut out for the job long term. We're married, by the way. Angie and I."

She was Andre's head hostess for the evening run; probably also the only reason his front-of-house was able to keep it together when things start falling apart out in the back. Back then, she was the only one looking out for the younger ones in the kitchen. She still checks in, every now and then. Never knew she settled down though.

"Congrats." There weren't many options when it came down to stuff like that. People moving on with their lives. Passing milestones. Ticking off their list. "She still at Andre's?"

"Yeah. You know she likes the regulars. Plus, the new GM loves her too, so... the raise was pretty attractive." I was surprised. Most of the staff knew how bad the turnover rate at Andre's was. He lowered his voice soon after, glancing over his shoulder. "You seen that video of Andre and that critic guy? Angie said he's coming back for more. Chef invited a whole bunch of tabloids to fuck him up."

I stared. "What?"

"You know how he's like," Hamez had a thing for stories like these. His wife working at Andre's would've kept him topped up. "Drama is his thing. He'd let the whole world know when it comes to someone else trying to one-up him. Like that French guy from the... weren't you there? He had this whole panel of people to prove him wrong. It was practically a press meeting with the bunch of media he'd invited.

"That critic's probably going up against the same thing this time. Just, worse because Andre's swimming in cash now and his ego's too big to stop at anything short of having that poor fella take back his review."

I'd said the exact thing on our drive. Wasn't something I'd be proud to be right about.

"All good here?" Jaeger came by, checking on the part-timer before turning my way and nodding at the engine. The manager called for the rest of the service crew to head back into the kitchen and Hamez stopped to give me a look before raising a hand.

"Drop by Andre's sometime." He waved. "Angie would like that."

In the back of the engine on our way to the next EMS call, I was out of it. The habit of leaving my phone in the lockers at the fire house never seemed like a problem until now. There were times when Annie wasn't feeling her best but Rexi would have been first to know.

"You good?"

I turned. We were on the scene, casualty sorted and sent off in the ambulance and I'd been standing still watching it go for the past couple of seconds. Thinking about the phone. About where he was. What time he was going to be there.

How he'd be having a bad day. Again.

"We done?"

"Yeah." Zales looked at me weird. Like she wasn't looking at someone she knew for a good five years. If we don't get another call on the way back, sure."

We did. An MVA.

The time was four in the afternoon and the sky was blue as fuck. We don't get that a lot here, so great weather once in a while did wonders for the mood and the calls we received the entire day had went nothing short of decent. No deaths. People were nice. Traffic was okay.

Would've been one of those seven-out-of-ten days, with calls back to back that kept the team feeling good and busy, saving the world kind of stuff. Would've been.

They watched me head straight for the lockers once Zales pulled up in the engine bay, reaching in, pulling out my phone and dropping him a text. Two. Then, a ring because I looked up and the clock on the wall was nearing five in the evening and time was short.

"Hey man. Everything okay?"

I wasn't the kind to be first off the engine, usually giving the gear a couple more checks and hanging back with whoever was on duty to run through the general condition of the fire truck's compartments. Jaeger's locker was right beside mine. He waited while I held the phone up to my ear. No answer.

Sent another text.

"Yeah." Dialed again. "It's nothing."

I tried to recall the time he was supposed to be arriving at Andre's. Nothing surfaced. He didn't say.

"Dinner time boys." BC was here. Earlier in the morning, rookie said he'd hang back to prep for the crew's dinner even though it wasn't his shift. He was learning the ropes.

We head on in to the common room where the food was and even at the table, I couldn't put the phone down. Just yesterday, we were cruising around the test drive arena on different rides with his phone right beside him—why couldn't he respond to a simple text?

It was getting on my nerves.

Only because I knew I should have came down on him harder on his decision about giving Andre a second chance; that him being fed something subpar and made to look like an idiot in front of twenty or so cameras was going to be his evening. Andre wasn't going to cook for him he was going to cook him.

"How's the food?" "Not bad for your first time, rookie." "What does the expert think?"

I was staring at his contact name on my phone, waiting for his status to turn green. The table was quiet. "Cox."

They were looking at me. All of them. I'd missed the cue completely. "It's good."

"You haven't even touched your plate yet, man."

I looked down. He was right. I picked up a spoon.

"Cox." It was chief again. I looked up. He'd pushed his plate aside and looked straight down the table at me. "Is there somewhere else you need to be?"

Back to my phone. Then back to him. "I can't just leave."

"Five years of fire and I've never seen that look on your face." It was like Jaeger to laugh. Call me out.

BC turned to Zales and the rest of the crew. "I'm assuming he's been like this all day."

"Somewhere after a couple of EMS's. The one at the restaurant, maybe." All heads turned to me.

"I'm on my shift." I repeated. Chief laughed.

"You've been on your shift for the longest damn time, Cox. Never seen you opt for a single day of personal leave—and rookie, I'm not letting him off easy just 'cuz of that look on his face." He explained. "The man's been filling in on short-handed days for his entire career without a word, you hear?"

"Yes sir."

"You're off, Cox. You have until midnight. Rookie's your stand-in."

I stared. "You... sure?"

"Well, nice to know you'd owe me one," said the new guy. Vance. I remembered. "I heard you make a sick fried chicken, so. Would like to give that a try."

"Man, even Zales' taken more breaks than you within three month's worth of her time here." Jaeger added and beside him, our engineer gave him the finger. "Get your ass moving."

The adrenaline cruised. I wolfed down half of dinner and apologized, grabbing my pager, keys, phone and wallet. Behind my back, I could hear chief calling after me. "You only get to do this once a year, boy!"

I raised a hand.

Dropping a couple of texts on my way to my bike, I made plans. Fifteen minutes to Andre's. Double that time if the traffic was bad. George would take ten max, if I made the request now. Prep would be ten to twelve minutes. Cook time... god knows how long I'd take to get back on track.

There was something strange. Something crackling at the back of my mind. Something smoking.

I took twenty to find my way down Andre's back alley—they'd changed the layout of the street since then, and I hadn't reason or energy to visit the place they'd renovated at least two times since my last day in the kitchen, but the back was the same. The same few out on a smoke break.

Angie spotted me first. Heard me, rather. She and a couple of other kitchen assistants were gathered around a couple of crates. George by the side, with the same old smile.

I couldn't be bothered to find parking for my bike. There was no time. So I pulled him right in front of the back door, showing up in the usual—station twelve shirt, cargoes, boots, bomber.

"Leroy?" Angie was head hostess for a reason. She never really aged. Her eyes went to the crates brought by George. "Leroy is that really... are these ingredients all yours?" She pulled me in for a hug as I neared. I gave the service crew a nod. Some foreign faces. One or two familiar ones who were apparently immune to Andre's shit.

"Got your goods you son of a bitch," George laughed, clapping me on the back as soon as Angie let me off the hook. "You're lucky you saved my bloody ass back then. You've used up your favors this time, 'aight?"

"... I saved your entire storage of prosciutto, old man. You owe me more than that," I kid. Known him for some time; both Siegfried and Andre's supplies came partly from this guy.

"What's the occasion, kid?" I remembered him. He was good with roasts. Everyone else seemed new-ish. "Andre's closing off the night shift. We're done here. Some event going on tonight."

I turned to Angie. She stubbed her cigarette, rolling her eyes. "He's in the primary. We were told to leave as soon as the mise en place was done."

Andre's restaurant had two sections; two shifts. The afternoon was a bistro-style restaurant with an a la carte menu while the evening shift was fine-dining. And for that, he'd always insisted on having to separate kitchens—the primary, for the evening shift that he heads, and the secondary, for the afternoon shift. He usually doesn't turn up for that one.

My eyes went to the back door of the restaurant's secondary. Then back to Angie.

Her gaze went dead. "I haven't seen you in years, baby boy. You're not getting the special treatment you used to enjoy."

"What are you up to man?" Some guy in his whites joined in with a curious eye. "Commit arson or something?"

"Close enough." A spark. Something was burning. Firefighters weren't supposed to start a flame. "I'm gonna serve a five course beside Andre's."

The guy's face was priceless. He turned to Angie. "What the fuck?" Then back to me. "How good are you though?"

"Wanna see?" I took my shot. Could feel it on the corners of my lips. He laughed.

"Angie, you gotta let him in—" "Oh my god Brian you know Andre's going to have my head—" "Hey the dude's been serving the same shit for years. Kid here knows." "Wait, so you're serving his menu?" "You should have asked for caviar, boy. I had some quality ones come in this morning." "He hasn't stepped into a kitchen for five fucking years!" "But Angie, bloody hell the media loves this kind of stuff. We're going to get so much attention." "Bad attention."

She turned to me. I'd checked the time while they were going back and forth. It was ticking.

"Please tell me you have a good reason for doing this."

"... if you let me in," I bit my lip. Gave her the face she knew she was sucker for. Behind her, kitchen boy laughed.

"God dammit Angie, if you're not going to let him in, I'll do it myself just to see the look on Andre's face."

Angie held him by the scruff of his neck. "You're not the one with your job on the line."

"You'd have nothing to do with this! I gave him the keys and you knew nothing about it—" "Afternoon shift didn't lock up, actually," roast guy nodded at the door. "We could pretend this never happened."

We turned back to her. The look on her face. I could tell how close she was to giving in.

"Let's hear it," she sighed, folding her arms. Drumming her fingers. "Your menu."

"Wait, isn't he going to serve Andre's..."

"Truffle infused eggs en cocotte." To start. "Cajun island-style seared scallops with mango salsa—"

"Oh fuck that one was good," Angie cursed under her breath. Back then, I'd let her try my version of Andre's fine-dining menu. All the dishes I had in mind used the same core ingredients that matched his five-course, but without the fancy shit. Caviar. Foie gras. Whatnot.

I gave her one last look. It was the please.

She cracked under that, heading over to the door, cranking it open and jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "Get going, baby. The event starts in half an hour."

Silent victory. The boys were cool; they helped bring the ingredient crates in and set them out on the counter. "Now will you tell me why you're doing all this?"

I unboxed the stuff that needed to be chilled first, then gathered whatever kitchen tools I needed and the ingredients for the first two courses.

"There's someone coming today." I told her. Knowing Andre, he probably had with him more than three to four other critics on his side. An entire panel just to have him doubt his own judgement of taste. "That critic." She caught on.

"White." Him. "What about him?"

I sharpened the knives. Parsley first. Then shallots. Garlic. Something was burning. Something in the eyes.

"I'm going to impress him."