Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 11:33:42 -0600
From: William Webb <haztech@msn.com>
Subject: Flip pt10

Flip
Part 10


	"Look!" Bill barked suddenly at the distressed youth sitting beside
him as he pulled the red booster truck through the drive-through to pick up
their food. Thankfully, the little grass fire truck wasn't any wider than a
regular dually pick-up. "Your friend will be all right. The Doc is a smart
man and if he didn't think they could handle the problem, he'd have had him
flown to Herman."
	"I know, I know...." Philip glanced at his hands. They were clean
but didn't feel that way. He could still feel Marty's sweat and blood even
though they'd been covered with latex. "Why...?"
	"You need to look after yourself too." Bill placed his hand on the
boy's shoulder and squeezed, willing some calming influence through that
embrace. "So, I want you to eat!"
	"But...." Philip began. He couldn't stop himself from shaking. The
adrenaline coursed through his blood with his hidden rage, looking for a
release he couldn't find. He wanted, no, needed to find the bastard who'd
almost beaten his friend to death but, if what Bill had said was true, the
man who'd claimed to be Marty's father was out of his reach.
	"Nope! No `buts'." Bill quickly reached for his billfold as they
pulled adjacent the serving window. "You're faded. I won't have you in the
hospital as well, so you will eat!" Bill forced a smile at his young
crewman. That last one was a lie. Philip didn't look remotely `faded'
through the burning clouds that covered his face. "And I won't have one of
my firefighters in jail either. Let it go, Flip. Your friend doesn't need
your anger right now. Let it go!"
	"Fuckin' doctor should have...." Philip quietly snarled under his
breath, staring at his feet resting on the floor of the `Mouse' as his
unthinking anger found another target.
	"Don't get mad at Doc for not letting you ride in with them," Bill
shot back harshly, hoping to get through the thick skull that lurked under
the boy's shock of red hair. "They didn't have room. And besides, look at
yourself! Would you want you in the back of the ambulance right now? Hell!
They'd have you in restraints and how would that look going into the
emergency room!... God knows, your friend doesn't need you bouncing off the
walls around him. He's gon'a be scared enough without that. You'll be
there for him soon enough... but if you're gon'a be there, you have to take
care of yourself first! Am I right?"
	"Yes, sir..." Philip whispered quietly as he slumped back into the
red vinyl seat and reached for the bag of food as they pulled away from the
restaurant. He let the `Mouse's' engine vibration soothe the tension he felt
draining away. His frustration at not having a target to release it all on
still burned deeply, but Bill was right. "They'd just better let me see
him..."
	"They will." Bill sighed as he directed the small booster truck
along their way. No matter what, his young crewman would make things
interesting for him. "Let the staff do their work. Besides, you'd be
surprised just where our department T-shirts will get us into." He grimaced
inwardly. That was the carrot. Now came the stick. "Just make sure you stay
out of everybody's way. Don't think I won't yank your ass out of there in a
heartbeat if you can't control yourself!"
	"Mumph..." Philip grunted, causing a slight smile on his station
captain's face, as he guiltily tore into another quarter pounder. The food
seemed to calm the tightness squeezing his stomach while his mind found
something more welcome to think of. "I'm OK."
	"That's bullshit and we both know it." Bill let his smile stay to
soften his words. He'd be content to let the rest of the trip pass in
silence, but first, "I'll be there to help... me and the rest of the
department." He reached quickly for the radio mic when they crossed a small
creek bed. "Booster ninety four will be out of district, out of service
until further notice...."
	The two firefighters continued on, each lost in their personal
thoughts, one concerned with the boy by his side, the other's drifting back
to his friend within the severe walls of the building they were fast
approaching. Philip shuddered again as he directed his thoughts up into the
dark sky, `Oh, God, I can't lose Marty now.'

	"Ahhhhh! Fuck! Stop, please!" Marty screamed when he was moved
again. It felt like the entire right side of his chest was full of ground
glass but at least his breathing had eased since the Doctor had jabbed a
tube between his injured ribs. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing
everybody gone. He felt his face burn hotly, ignoring the tears that
flooded his eyes and streaked his face. He shivered again in the cold air
of the room. They had cut the rest of his clothes off. He'd lost even that,
he wouldn't even have anything to wear any more! And now....
	"Listen to me, Marty...." He risked a quick glance up at the older
black doctor who'd been with him in the ambulance, the same man who'd cut
the hole through his chest, the man who wouldn't give him anything for the
pain. "Calm down.... We have to put in the catheter, you're going to be
stuck in bed for a while...."
	"...Then we'll take a few more pictures to make sure you don't have
any more problems." Doctor Lewis kept his voice quiet, trying to calm the
terrified boy lying before him. "Tell you what, let me check the CT results,
then I'll take the pain away... but for now, lie still and let us work." He
gently stroked Gabriel's - no, the boy preferred `Marty', he'd gotten that
much through the pain - black matted hair. "It'll be uncomfortable but it
won't hurt you. You had one last time you were here, didn't you?"
	"Y..y..yes." Marty squeaked out through his broken ribs. The doctor
had told him his ribs were busted, and the whistles and `Oh God' comments
hadn't helped relax him one bit, but God! Anything for the pain to be over!
He once again felt a hand on his penis and the cold of the sterile KY-
covered tube the nurse had asked for. He tensed uncontrollably, sending
another spasm through the side of his heavily bruised torso. "God!
Puhleease!"
	"OK, Marty, we're done." Doctor Lewis smiled down reassuringly at
his patient, then turned to glance at the automatic blood pressure/pulse
monitor to check the readings again. The boy was now holding his own and
the CT hadn't shown any severe bleeding within his chest. It looked like
his ribs had taken all the force of the blows he'd received. Though the
force was enough to puncture the kid's lung, his abdomen appeared to be
clear. Now to see to the physical pain.
	Doc Lewis shook his head at the team around him. He still found it
unthinkable that the boy's father had done all that damage and just driven
away from his son like that. He did a quick calculation in his head,
looking at the skinny frame of his patient. "Give him ten MS, IV.... Marty?
We're gon'a take the edge off that pain now."
	"Doc?" The police officer cleared his throat. "I need to get some
pictures and information before y'all cover him up."
	"Can you work around the blanket?" Doc Lewis let his gaze slide
from the officer's camera toward the nurse placing a prewarmed blanket
over his shivering patient. "The boy needs his rest now that we've doped
him up."
	"Yes, sir, I think I can." The officer, smiling, raised his camera
up and advanced quietly to begin his work. `God,' he thought to himself, `I
hope the asshole who did this tries to resist.' He knew he'd be hugging his
own children tightly when he got home in the morning. "Though usually my
subjects aren't still breathing."
	"Well, thankfully, this one is," one of the nurses commented under
her breath as she stood to one side. "And will be for a long time if I have
anything to do about it."
	"Me too." The team in the room nodded silently. Doctor Lewis
lightly stroked his hand through the boy's black hair, watching the officer
take his pictures of the recent damage done and the healing scars of
earlier whippings. "Is Admitting finished yet? I want to get him
upstairs..."
	"Bob?" Doctor Robert Lewis turned toward the motioning figure of
his counterpart who was the attending ER physician that night. He stepped
away from his patient to find out what the other man was saying. "I just
got cornered by a policeman outside. I've got two gunshots coming in a few
minutes. One is to the arm. I'll put him in room three. The other is to the
head. I need to put him in trauma two." The other doctor glanced into the
second half of the room, divided by a curtain from where Marty lay.
	"OK, no problem." Robert Lewis glanced toward the glass doors that
led to the ambulance bays. He could see the dim reflection of red flashing
lights beginning to make themselves apparent. "The kid's ready to go
upstairs. I can help...."
	"No, you don't understand!" The other cut him off while he noted
his own team of technicians and nurses preparing to receive their patient,
one waiting for his appearance with a green gown and face-shield held out.
"The head wound is that kid's father, according to the cops. They're
telling me he shot himself after he shot the cop!"
	"Fuck!" Doc Lewis wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and
motioned for the admitting nurse. "OK, check and see if that ICU bed is
ready yet? I want that kid out of here ASAP! Move!" He glanced back into
the room, his shoulders sagging. He feared the boy's father had just found
a way to hurt his son in a new and unimaginable way. "...Louisa? Let's get
some bunnylines ready. I want the kid's arms secured."
	`Bzzzzzz' both doctors quickly silenced their pagers hung on their
belts as the overhead speakers keyed. "Trauma code,...room two, Trauma
code...."
	"Shit! They're here!" Both doctors sighed for different reasons
before moving toward their new problems. "Marty? ...How you feeling now?"
	"HhhoooKaaay," Marty whispered through his relaxed eyes, closed
against the continuing flash as his naked body was photographed for
evidence. His mind was still alert but drowsy and, except when moved or
jostled, the pain had receded quickly. His brain wallowed now that the
physical hurt was almost gone, content to enjoy it while it lasted. He
knew it wouldn't last long. It never did. He barely registered the soft
restraints placed on his wrists and opened his eyes to stare questioningly
at the face of the black doctor standing over him. He heard a bustle of
activity that seemed close to his left ear on the other side of a curtain
and the look of worry that crossed the doctor's face. "Whhat?"
	"This is Travis Miller, a forty-two year old white male!" The
paramedic next door sounded out his quick report as he squeezed the
oxygen-filled bag attached to the tube that ran directly into the man's
lungs. His partner was forcibly compressing the patient's chest to
circulate his blood. He didn't have to check his monitor to see that the
compressions were effective. The blood that continued to squirt out of the
head wound to soak his arm and the stretcher under them was enough. The
paramedic hated GSW's most of all and figured this case was hopeless, but
the man had been alive when they began and he hated to lose. As he
continued his report, he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could do that
to themselves. There was nothing worse, or messier, than this. He fought the
urge to wipe his nose against the smell. The patient's bladder and bowels
had released soon after they got him into the ambulance; that always seemed
to happen in cases like this. And so, he was sure this man would die, was
dead already, covered in his own piss and shit. Why couldn't people see
this? There was nothing dignified to this, nothing noble! Only human waste,
blood, and death!  "Gunshot to the right temple, no exit. Arrested five
minutes ago, V fib. I administered shocks, first round Epi and Lidocain,
still in fib."
	"OK, stop CPR." The ER Doc's calm voice came through like a
cadence. "Resume CPR, charge three sixty, Clear!..." Pause. "Resume CPR,
Epi, Lidocain...."
	"D...dad?" Marty's eyes slowly grew wider as the voices across the
curtain from him began to sink into his mind. He directed his attention at
the black doctor who'd been with him. The man had promised he wouldn't lie
to him ever! "Mhyy dad?"
	Doctor Lewis quietly ran his fingers through the boy's short black
hair again and looked for the pharmacy tech with the sedatives he'd ordered
to help the boy sleep. He nodded his head. "Marty? ...Just try to relax."
	"Nooooo!" Marty's wail grew as he tried to raise himself up against
the doctor's hand on his forehead. He jerked hard against the straps
holding his wrists tightly to the bed rails. "Oow! God! Nnoooo!"
	"Marty! Listen to me! Stop!" Doc Lewis grimaced in alarm at the
boy's struggles. "They're doing everything they can! ...Listen to me!
Everything they can! Stop!...You can't help him!"
	"Daaad!" Marty squeaked and stopped pulling and lay back, forcing
his head against the pillow hard! His pulling had brought the sharp pain in
his chest back with a vengeance! He closed his eyes, squeezing the moisture
out to run down the side of his head! `Oh God!' he thought frantically. His
driving had caused his mother and sister's death and now his dad was dying
because of him as well? It was all his fault! Everyone in his family told
him that. "God! Noooo! Take me instead! It's my fault! Take me instead!....
Daaad, I love you...Let me die!"
	"Marty! Listen to me!" Doc Lewis kept his voice strong but calm.
The kid had pulled on the stitches holding the chest tube in place, almost
to the breaking point, and the activity threatened to compromise his already
weakened lung. "Listen to me... It's not your fault. Calm down now... we're
gon'a help you sleep... Shhhhh...It's not your fault...."
	"Oh, God! ...momma!" Marty degenerated into quieter sobs. She was
gone forever, along with his sister. "Mommy!...Daddy!...Please! I'm sorry!
Please forgive me. ...I didn't mean to be a fag...Please, God, forgive
me...."
	"OK, stop CPR.... Still asystole...." The voices from across the
curtain reasserted themselves unmercifully. "...another high dose epi?
...No I'm gon'a call it. ...Time twenty two thirteen... Thank you, people,
we did all we could. I need to talk to the family...."
	"Nooo, take me instead...." Marty repeated sleepily through the new
sedation that had been introduced into his battered body. "Kill me instead,
kill me...."
	"No! Don't you leave me, you asshole!" Marty gazed upward through
his heavy lids, into the fierce eyes and red hair he'd at one time hated,
then grown fond of. Then, grown to love. He tried to concentrate on
Philip's wavering  tenor voice. "Don't you give up! You're not leaving me
too! I won't let you."
	"Whhhy?" His eyes were fast growing too heavy to keep open but he
struggled hard to keep focused on his only friend left in the world.
	"I...I need you, Y...you're my friend." Philip blinked away the
moisture that fogged his vision. "I love you."
	"Gohhh ... away..." Marty's voiced whisper dwindled even further. "...ever...body...love...dies."
	"No!" Philip's voice hardened as he felt his heart lurch and seem
to melt further. He'd allowed so few people into his life, the loyalty and
love for this one overwhelmed his very being. His friend was slipping away
from him. If not physically any more, then mentally. Marty was giving up.
"I'm not going away. Ever! I'm never giving up on you. I'm not gon'a let
them win and you'd better not either, you asshole!" he smiled through his
emotions, remembering their first confrontations.
	"Yourrrr...wrong." Marty's mouth turned slightly upward at the
corners, once again drawn back to those icy clear blue eyes surrounded by
the mask of freckles and fiery brows. His brain dimly seized upon their
first meeting as well. Somehow, the names they'd called each other had
become a comfortable inside joke between them, their own strange language
of endearment. "I'mmm...aDickhead.... Yyourr ...thaaa ...assshole...."
	The drugs finished their work soon after and he drifted away into
a dreamless sleep. He was content to let it happen. Philip was there, would
be there. `Flip! His Flip...'
	Philip quietly flinched as the blanket was once again pulled away
from Marty's sleeping form and a final flash from the camera signaled the
end of the documentation of the wounds. He glanced down the naked form
presented to him and flushed in shame and embarrassment for his friend.
Shame for not recognizing the pain Marty must have been in on a daily
basis, and embarrassment for sating his own curiosity as his eyes were
drawn to his friend's groin where the tan tube exited the soft penis
lying halfway across Marty's thigh and his low hangers. A wave of guilt
and nausea threatened to wash through him. He'd been curious about the
rest of his friend's body like he'd anticipated opening his gifts on
Christmas as a child, but he didn't want to see it like this. Never like
this.
	"Well, I guess there won't be any secrets on one side of your
relationship." Doc Lewis seemed to read the mind of the boy standing by his
patient's head. He couldn't help but smile as the flush seemed to darken
the boy's features even more. "We've got his bed all ready now. He'll be in
the ICU for a couple of days."
	"What then?" Philip pulled himself away as the nurses moved to
re-cover Marty and place his prosthesis and their equipment around his bed,
preparing for the move.
	"Well, he'll be here at least a week or two..." Doc Lewis glanced
from one boy to the other, "...then I suppose it'll be up to the State to
find him a home. Either with other family or someplace else."
	"I'm afraid it'll have to be someplace other than his family."
Philip turned, along with the doctor and staff, to confront the new voice.
The woman standing took a step back at the sudden reaction to her speaking
up and almost ran into Bill who'd watched the team calmly with a sad
expression. She recovered quickly. "From what I've seen of his family in
the waiting room, he'd be in just as much danger from them, if not more."
She saw the strange looks she received. "Sorry, I'm Marjorie Bailey from
CPS."
	"CPS?" Philip's eyes darted around the room, looking for an
explanation. His adrenaline pumped back through his veins again. "How?"
	"Child Protective Services, Philip." Bill smiled as he stepped
around the lady and her briefcase to approach his young crewman. "Calm
down, everything will be OK."
	"But what's gon'a happen now?" Philip couldn't tear his eyes away
from the lady standing with them. 'Calm down? Yeah, right!'
	"We try to find him a foster home," the lady, Marjorie, Philip
remembered dimly, replied calmly. She glanced over to the boy in question
and sighed. If he was gay like she'd gathered, he'd be impossible to place
with a family. "If we can't, he'll go to a group home."
	"No! You can't!" Philip blinked away the moisture that reappeared
in his eyes. He felt himself backed into a corner but these people were
supposed to be on his side. He couldn't strike out the way he had when
cornered in the past. There had to be a way out. "Why can't he stay with
me?"
	"He can't, Philip." Bill gripped the already distraught redhead
tightly to his chest. He didn't really understand the attraction but he
recognized the fierce loyalty the two obviously felt for each other but
what could he do about it? "You'd have to have a mom and a dad before
they'd let you take him in.... Now, why don't you go help get your friend
moved upstairs." He gently pushed his firefighter back toward the bed
moving out into the hall.
	"Get that fucking faggot out of here before I kill him!" Philip
whirled about to face this new voice of anger, to find himself staring at
some old man staring back from the entrance to the ER. His rage boiled up
to the fore. This was the right target. "That worthless piece of shit!"
	"Philip! Let it go." Bill interposed himself between the two. He
shuddered involuntarily, looking at his crewman's eyes. They reminded him
of one of his terriers eyeing a rat. "He's not worth it. Stay with your
friend."
	"OK." Philip smiled quietly and turned to bend down and place a
kiss to Marty's face, but his burning eyes never left his enemy's. His
challenge was clear for all the world to see. `Come on, you fuck... Try me!'
	"We'll be up to get you soon," Doc Lewis called after the group
leading and pushing the bed into the elevator. He had to take care of any
arguments before they got started. Besides, that's why the ICU rooms didn't
have any chairs in them. "ICU won't let you stay for more than an hour
anyway."
	Philip quietly slumped back against the wall of the elevator when
the doors closed. He had to fight back the bile that burned its way up from
his pained stomach. Marty looked so relaxed, finally, in his drug-induced
sleep. His beautiful face and easy breathing, countered by the bubbling
noise from the bottles the chest tube was fed into.
	"Where's the bathroom?" He finally couldn't hold it back any more
and slipped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. The churning
acid within him was burning too painfully to be ignored.
	"Down the hall on the left." The nurses glanced at each other
silently. They knew where that was leading, it was written all over
Philip's face.
	"Tha...thanks!" Philip raced down the hall and pushed his way into
the deserted restroom. Pushing his way into the first stall, he barely had
time to bend over as the first heave brought up everything he'd eaten. His
closed eyes replayed the sight of Marty's broken body over and over again.
His fist slammed the partition again and again as his stomach continued to
heave uncontrollably. "Why! God, why?"

	"Philip? You in here?" Doc Lewis walked in to stand beside the
station captain in the men's room. They'd followed upstairs after talking
to the CPS caseworker for a while. They'd both been surprised when they
found Marty alone in the ICU and oblivious to all around him. He planned on
keeping the boy that way for at least a day or two, to give him some
uninterrupted time to heal without worrying about the youth causing himself
any further damage. The first thing to assault his senses was the smell of
puke in the air. "Are you all right, son?"
	"Y...Y...yes," Philip responded weakly. He had no idea how long
he'd been in there but his stomach had long since emptied itself and his
hand hurt. "I...I'm sorry."
	"You have nothing to be sorry about." Bill reached over Philip's
collapsed form to flush the remains of dinner away. "Com'on, son, get
yourself cleaned up and let's go see the Doc's new child."
	"Huh?" Philip smiled confusedly. He didn't want to go look at some
baby right then. He couldn't remember Lashonda telling him her mother was
pregnant.
	"Com'on." Bill helped the youth up and led him over to the bank
of sinks. "I know, it never tastes as good the second time around. What did
you do to your hand?"
	"I don't know..." Philip flushed his mouth out and wiped his face
with the proffered paper towels before his hand was grabbed by the doctor.
"Ooww."
	"Think we need to x-ray it?" Bill shook his head and sighed.
	"No." The doctor smiled and, releasing Philip's hand, gently
ruffled his hair. "But next time find something softer to punch, or wear
gloves. Now let's go see your friend before I kick you out for the night."
	"Yes, sir." Philip cast his eyes down in shame.
	"Hey, none of that now." Doctor Lewis smiled and raised the boy's
face to look at him in the eyes. "Marty is a lucky young man to have you
for a friend. There was no way for you to know what was going on, so don't
blame yourself for not being able to protect him. Marty kept it pretty well
hidden from you, didn't he?"
	"Yes." Philip whispered. "But I.... And now he'll be taken away...
I'll never get to see him."
	"Yes, you will." Doctor Lewis put his arm around Philip's broad
shoulders and tried to squeeze the tight muscles. He soon gave up and was
content to let his arm rest where it was. "There is something you should
know. My wife and I have raised three children. Two are in college and you
know about Lashonda. Did she tell you that we've also had four foster kids
in our home?"
	"No." Philip blinked to clear his eyes again as he was led back
into the hallway toward the ICU doors.
	"Well, we have." The doctor slowed their progress to give time for
his news to settle in. "This'll be the first time I've been father to a
white kid, but I promise he'll be safe and won't ever get beaten again.
Well, unless he forgets to put the toilet seats down!"
	"Oh, God, thank you!" Doctor Lewis felt his own chest being crushed
then and silently wondered how the partition in the restroom had taken the
pounding the redheaded boy had given it. Gawd, but the boy was strong.
Strong, yes, but still with the painful heart of a youth who'd seen too
much misery in the world. Bill had told him that much.
	When he could breathe again, he could appreciate the renewed
confidence to Philip's steps as they walked into the room to stand beside
Marty's bed. He was again struck by how much the two of them belonged
together. Two boys adrift on a cruel sea. If he could provide the raft,
then so much the better. The CPS caseworker and the cops would be over at
the boy's former house, picking up his clothes and other belongings, so that
was one problem they wouldn't have to face. He just hoped the blackhaired
white boy liked something other than that rap music shit his daughter
listened to.

_____________________________________________________________________________

	"Would you like some coffee while you're waiting?" Terry offered
the tall man who'd come into the station to wait with him, and the other
three members staying at the station that night, for the booster's return.
"Just made."
	"Sure, thanks." Eric Nevins smiled gratefully at the proffered cup,
inhaling the different aromas that permeated the building. It was a strange
mixture of coffee, diesel exhaust, and stale smoke that came from the rows
of worn fire gear hanging in cubicles. His eyes had been drawn to the empty
one in the middle, `Philip Nevins' was emblazoned on the tag with a bold
`Flip' drawn underneath. He found the nickname unsettling but the people
he'd met that night seemed to know his son more by that name. "So, what can
you tell me about Flip?"
	"Huh?" Terry found the question strange and tried to sort it out a
little before answering. This man had claimed to be Flip's dad. What a
strange question to ask. "You'd know better than me. He's your son."
	"Well, we haven't been very close since his mom and I got
divorced," Eric dissembled quickly. "But, since the cancer, I thought...
well...."
	"I'm sorry to hear that, but...you should be proud of Flip." Terry
spoke up to fill in the silence that threatened to descend on them. "He's
given a hundred percent and then some! I know that everybody in this
station would go anywhere with him. In fact he's got our support to go to
A&M's fire academy when he's older, if that's what he wants to do. He's
made one hell of a volunteer, he'll make one hell of a career firefighter
as well. I just hope that if he does go that route, he gets hired locally
so he can stay a member here."
	"He's that good?" Eric listened carefully, but found the revelation
bewildering. These guys weren't professionals after all. How much could he
place into these statements? "I mean, he loves it that much?"
	"To answer both your questions. Yeah, he is." Terry saw the
familiar look but brushed it aside. He was too proud of his department to
get into the old `paid vs. volunteer' argument with a civilian. As far as
he was concerned, they did the same job with equal effectiveness. "...and
he does. He's not only strong, but also very smart. He loves doing this."
	"That's good to know." Eric smiled noncommittally. His plans for
his only son had always been college - in particular, college gymnastics or
wrestling, followed by some career in coaching, like his parents. Philip
obviously had other ideas right now. "So what do you do, when you're not
here?"
	"I'm an architect with Brown and Root." Terry cocked his ear,
listening to a squeal of distant tires on some accelerating car or truck.
"Keep driving, we'll see you soon," he whispered under his breath, then
returned his attention to the man standing with him. "Sorry, and what do
you do?"
	"I'm a High School coach in Austin and I teach self-defense
classes and boxing at a gym there." Eric smiled back at the other's easy
accepting manner. He couldn't fault these people for their friendly
disposition and the welcome he'd received that night.
	"Well, now I know where Flip gets his...." Terry began but was
interrupted.
	"Booster ninety four in district, in service." Bill's voice
crackled from the overhead radio speaker, followed by the dispatcher.
"Received, Booster ninety four in service."
	"That's them." Terry glanced back to his guest he'd waited with.
The other three station members were already asleep upstairs. "They should
be back in about fifteen, twenty minutes. Do you want me to tell them
you're here or did you want to surprise Philip?"
	Eric started suddenly and felt his stomach tighten slightly. He
noticed that the man who'd stayed with him had suddenly reverted to using
his son's proper name, as if to remind him of the potential problems that
lay ahead. "Maybe you'd better let them know I'm here...."
	"Booster ninety four, `public service' the station." Terry placed
the mic back in its cradle and walked over to a wall phone. "They should
call on the truck cell in a moment."

	"Oh, God." Bill quickly pressed the speed dial on the attached cell
phone built into the center console of the truck's dash. He smiled over at
the collapsed boy next to him. Thankfully the windows were closed, because
he didn't know how many bugs Flip would have eaten that night otherwise.
The mental rollercoaster had obviously taken its toll on the now sleeping
young man. "I wonder what they broke now?"
	"Huh?" Philip yawned again as he opened his eyes only to find they
were still on the road. His face flushed as he realized he never remembered
dozing off.
	"Go back to sleep," Bill whispered into the phone. "Terry probably
wants to tell me something broke at the station before I see it myself.
Yeah, this is Bill. What broke?"
	"OK, OK, so wasup?" Philip heard Bill chuckle through his closed
eyes. His stomach still ached but he couldn't trust it to hold anything
just yet. The Doctor's reassurance had been a bit premature. The caseworker
still had to approve the arrangement, some stupid rule about a family of
the same race having the first choice in placement.
	"Who?" Bill sat up a little straighter but kept his eyes on the
road passing through their headlights. "OK, I'll tell him. Don't say
anything about the `Gay' thing.... Sorry, I know you're not stupid." He
silently keyed the phone off and glanced over quickly. `Damn.'. "Philip?"
	"Yeah?" Philip smiled ruefully. He'd kept himself calm, listening to
the exchange. `Gay thing?' The conversation could only be about him. He
knew soon after he did it that he shouldn't have kissed Marty when he did.
"I guess I pissed off the other station on the scene."
	"Well, I did have some early explaining to do." Bill smiled to
soften his words. "Just warn me before you kiss any more patients." He took
a deep breath. "But that's not it.... Terry says your dad is waiting at the
station for you."
	"No!" Philip jerked against the seatbelt suddenly. "That fuckin'
sonofabitch! Why couldn't he stay the fuck away from my mom and me! I swear,
if he comes near me, I'll kill the bastard!"
	"Whoa! Slow down a minute!" Bill pulled the `Mouse' onto the
shoulder of the road they were on and turned to face the rage. "What
happened between you two?"
	"Look!" Philip snarled as he turned and raised his shirt, baring
his back.
	"What?" Bill glanced down after turning on the overhead light. A
cold chill went down his spine but all he could see was the boy's tight
muscles straining. "I can't see anything. Did he beat you too?"
	"Use your flashlight." Philip felt like he wanted to be sick again
but he didn't want to give the `sperm donor' the satisfaction.
	"OK." Bill shrugged to himself and pulled his penlight out and
shined it over and around Philip's exposed skin. He stopped suddenly and
let his hand trace over a mark that finally resolved itself from the
natural structure contouring the boy's back. Only the dim shadows cast
revealed the otherwise invisible but perfect image of a belt buckle.
"Jeeze! OK....No wonder you threw up. How long ago did that happen?"
        "Three years ago." Philip shrugged off the touch and turned to face
forward again. "I don't want to ever see him again. I can't...."
	"I don't know what to do, Philip." Bill sighed as he checked the
mirrors and pulled back onto the street. "He's at the station. You're gon'a
have to see him, but remember, I'll be there and Terry and the others will
be there. Just don't do anything stupid.... If you want, I'll have a cop
stop by as well."
	"No, that's OK." Philip slumped back into the seat. His mom kept
telling him his dad was sorry. Yeah, right! That was the word for him all
right,`Sorry'! He let his gaze drift over to his station captain. "I'm
sorry I'm being so much trouble. You and the department don't need my
shit...."
	"Philip?" Bill growled back, cutting off his crewman. "Shut up!
Yes, I'm your captain but I'm also your friend...and Terry and the others
are your friends too. So, once and for all, get it through that thick
skull! Surprise! You have friends! Once a firefighter, always a
firefighter!"
	He sighed again as they pulled up to the station and began to back
into the bay. He could feel the tension emanating from the other seat.
"Whether you talk to your dad or not, we'll be there!"
	Philip stayed silent. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the tall
man overshadowing Terry's waiting form. At least he didn't feel quite as
trapped as he had. The flash of anger that he'd directed toward his mom,
sleeping so many miles away in her own hospital room, he'd pushed away just
as quickly. The guilt he felt for that anger stabbed him through and
through.
	"What the fuck are you doing here?" Philip led with his rage as he
finally climbed out of the truck. "I don't want to see or talk to you."
	"I just wanted to see my son, see how you're doing." Eric rocked
back on his heels as he kept his voice down. His ex-wife had tried to warn
him about his son's hatred but being face to face with the rage was
unsettling. He knew he deserved it though. "Will you at least listen to
me?"
	"No." Philip pulled his gear out of the small compartment under the
bed of the truck and shouldered his way past the men standing around him.
"You had your chance."
	"Hey, Flip, lighten up." Terry nervously glanced from one to the
other, trying to figure out what they were in the middle of now. Philip's
dad seemed nice enough. "Why don't you at least listen to the man? He's
your dad."
	Philip quickly moved away from the others and pushed his way into
the station's downstairs rec.-room, followed by Bill and his father. He
lay down on the couch and rolled over, placing his back to the room. He
wasn't thinking any more, couldn't think any more. He just wanted the
oblivion of sleep or for that damn pager to go off so he'd have an excuse
to leave. "Go away."
	"Philip? If you can't forgive me yet, I understand," Eric
whispered quietly. "I am sorry for the past but I can't change it. It
happened." He reached his hand out to touch his boy but quickly pulled it
back. He suddenly didn't think the touch he'd longed for would be a good
idea. "Your mom and I talked and I'll be staying with you this week.... I
love you, Philip. I always have and always will."
	"You love me?" Philip rolled back to face the nervous man sitting
next to him. "Like you could ever love a...." Philip felt the color drain
out of his face. Oh God! He'd put his foot into deep shit now. It would be
so easy to get rid of the man by telling him his son was a fag but it would
get back to his mom!
	"Love a what?" Eric kept his distance from the heated words. "What?
I love you. You're my son."
	"Love a cheerleader..." Philip scrambled quickly in his mind,
"...instead of those guys you coach. I'll never be out on the field like
`you' wanted."
	"OK." Eric grimaced before continuing. "Look, I just couldn't stand
it when people saw you spending so much time at your mom's gym and not
going out for the regular sports their kids were. I just didn't want people
to think you were a fag or something." He glanced around the room quickly,
seeing the fire pictures covering the walls. "I'm sorry, I know better now.
I was concerned it would look bad for me.... I should have let you be you.
I do love you."
	"Well, now I am being me!" Philip snarled quieter now. At least his
raised hackles had started to smooth out a bit. He looked at Bill. "I'm a
firefighter! At least you can be proud of that!"
	"Philip, I...." Eric began quietly, then rose to his feet. "I'm
going back to the house. You're learning how to swim tomorrow, according to
your mom?"
	"No." Philip's eyes flared again. "My friend's in the hospital. His
dad put him there before he did everybody a favor and killed himself!"
	"Philip!" Bill spoke up from where he'd been content to remain
silent. "That's enough! Whatever you might think of him, your friend will
still have to face losing his father! You don't!"
	"Yes, sir." Philip stared down at the floor before looking back at
his father standing silently in front of him. "I'm gon'a go wait for mom to
come out of surgery tomorrow, then I'm gon'a go see Marty up here."
	"OK." Eric slowly pulled the door open. "Are you coming home? We
can ride together tomorrow."
	"No," Philip whispered, "I'll dri...."
	"Engine ninety four, car fire, FM five twenty nine at Kipling Oaks.
Engine ninety four...."
	`Now you go off!' Philip thought to himself as he pulled himself
upright and rushed past his father, kicking his shoes off, so he could step
into his gear. Let his father sort himself out! He had a refuge in the cab
of the engine waiting for him now.
	"Terry! You drive!" Bill smiled at his soon-to-be lieutenant. He
almost laughed, watching the other man's face fall. "It's my turn to play
with the hose.... Put us enroute."
	"Engine ninety four enroute with six." Philip heard the voice from
the engine as he and the others settled into their seats of the running
truck. He couldn't help but cast a sideways glance at the man watching them
accelerate away, his scowl flashing in the revolving red lights cast by
their departure.
	Philip felt like he needed at least three of him in order to do
everything he wanted to do. Mom in one hospital, Marty in another, and the
musical his mom was looking forward to seeing him in so much! Thank God, all
he had to worry about now was a five-mile-per-hour bumper blowing off in
the heat and taking his legs off, or a gas tank rupture!
	Eric quietly turned and left the building after the red lights
disappeared from his sight. He'd known he was in for a struggle to win back
his son, but the boy had almost pushed him beyond what he thought he could
take! That his temper, that he'd worked so long to keep in check, had
stayed in check? It was going to be a hard week but he couldn't lose the
boy again! So much for tearful reunions!

	End Part 10.


I'd like to thank everybody for their patience. It has been a busy time for
this writer. I only hope it was worth the wait. I have tried to answer
every E-mail I've received. (Though I recently upgraded away from Outlook
into a different server. So if I haven't been able to answer, I apologize.)
I'd also like to thank Ed for his help with the story and my friends for
their support. (Thanks, Steve.)
						Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)