25-Apr-2004
Title: Inferno's Touch - Chapter 25
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction
Category: yaoi, AU, occasional humor, action, drama, death
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 5+6
Standard Disclaimer: All parts of Gundam Wing are Not Mine. It's all
Theirs. *sigh* Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything
done *happy hentai thought*. Anyway, not makin' any money offa this so dun
sue me. You'd only get some college debt, a few dogs, and a pair of
fuzzy bunny slippers anyway. Ya know... blood. Turnip. Do the math.
Rating: PG
Warning: Cliffhanger.
Spoiler: None.
Notes: All terms will be explained at the end of each chapter. If I
miss something, please let me know and I'll be happy to explain.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome.
The world was on fire. It burned in his lungs, it burned in his eyes, it burned in his throat, it burned in his skin, it even made his bones ache. The entire world had dissolved into nothing but searing pain. It stretched on into hours, weeks, years, eons, and did not cease. It enervated ever fiber of his body, and yet, he did not die of it. He could feel the pain eating away at what was left of his mind, his sanity, stealing wisps of himself until he couldn't even remember his own name.
He was pain. He was-
"OTTO!"
No. Otto was dead. There was nothing left of Otto but pain. Please God, please... Send the darkness. Let the darkness sweep this pain away. Anything, anything please.
"Otto!"
A fresh wave of searing agony washed over him as the whole world bucked and rolled beneath him. The image of a young lad, jaw set in fierce determination and golden curls confined under a battered old armored helm, sprang into his mind. The youth faced down a raging dragon, the very image of St. George himself, though his blue eyes were filled with tears.
Someone was crying. He was crying, the lad. Only the image was wrong. Otto blinked his eyes open painfully, to see the tears swimming in Zechs' eyes. He was a lad no longer, but a grown man, helmet cracked, face shield melted away. A few errant strands of platinum hair had escaped the singed hood, and tears carved deep tracks through the soot caked on the aristocratic features. A jagged laceration over his right eye dripped blood sluggishly down his cheek as he bowed over Otto's twisted form. St. George had taken a beating, and the dragon still raged about them all.
But he was alive.
Zechs gently rolled Otto onto his side, clearing dust and debris from around the Investigator's face. Quiet groans slipped past Otto's lips as he was moved, his voice too weak to give voice to the screams he obviously wanted to let loose, if his grimace of agony was anything to judge by.
"Otto," Zechs called, his voice cracking on the last syllable with fear and a little pain of his own. His shoulder was a writhing ball of torture, and his arm didn't seem to want to function right. Probably broke his collarbone or shoulder when he flew backwards into Heero during the explosion.
Zechs looked around sharply, spotting Heero just starting to stir about twenty feet away. The Japanese firefighter guarded his left side carefully as he slowly levered himself up, batting the remains of his SCBA mask off with annoyance.
Satisfied that Heero was at least alive, Zechs returned his attention to Otto, giving the man a gentle shake and calling his name again. He was rewarded with a choked moan as Otto slowly blinked his eyes open. His gaze fastened upon Zechs as a drowning man would look upon a life raft, and the faintest of smiles settled upon Otto's cracked lips.
" ...a- live..."
"Be still, you fool. We'll get you to the hospital. You'll be okay," Zechs grated out, casting about for Medic 6.
" ...no."
Zechs jerked as Otto's fingers slowly brushed over a damp trail on his cheek, the Investigator's fingertips as dry and hard as cracked leather. It was only because Otto had shielded Zechs with his own body that the Captain was not also covered with full thickness [1] burns from head to toe. Yet, despite the agony that the Investigator had to be in, Zechs could see a deep and residing peace seem to blossom within him. Those ancient fingers settled along Zechs' jaw, rooting him to the spot.
"Your father... would be... proud," Otto rasped out.
Even as Zechs tried to frame a denial, Otto's breath rattled through his lungs, and then was silent. Ash and bone and tormented flesh slid lifeless to the cracked pavement, though the final beautific smile never faded.
Every breath was a searing lance right to his lungs, and Heero's mouth tasted of blood and ash. He shook his head, slowly convincing rebellious limbs that they wanted to uncurl and move, cajoling battered muscles into working beyond the pain.
Damn mask. The world was a cracked haze of soot and embers through the shattered remains of his SCBA mask. The facepiece had melted and broken, splintering outward in a shower of spider web cracks. Whatever it was that had hit him, though, hadn't penetrated to his face. That was one small blessing at least.
His head was screaming and the shrill, piercing whine of PASS Devices [2] wasn't helping matters. Too many of the big rigs that had brought them all here were now silent, engines choked to death in the smoke and soot, or beaten to death by shrapnel and debris. Behind him, somewhere, he could still make out the distinctive purr of Engine 8, though there was a new stutter in the deep rumble of the diesel motor, an injury that may yet prove to be fatal. Over it all, however, far too many PASS Devices wailed into the night, with far too few hands moving to still them.
The warehouse was gone. A few girders and joists poked up through a twisted pile of burning flotsam that lay fully twelve feet high, but there was nothing more intact than that. Fire still raged merrily through the rubble, dancing along bits of debris that jutted out of firetrucks and ground, and even a few unmoving bodies here and there. The water piping on Truck 2's aerial had been mortally pierced by a steel pipe, and now most of the water sprayed over the scene in an incongruously gentle rain. The ladder itself lay twisted back upon itself, no longer able to retract into the cradle. A firefighter stirred near the rear of the Truck, slowly picking himself up off the pavement. Across the scene, too few bodies that Heero could pick out were stirring, and too many of the men that he knew should be there, simply weren't.
Turning, Heero's gaze fell upon Zechs, kneeling over the man that had vainly tried to pull them back from the throat of the blaze. He saw his Captain bow his head over the body, a racking sob seizing Zechs.Tearing his eyes away, Heero glanced towards Engine 8, instinctively trying to pick out Duo amidst the wreckage and disarray. Not spotting him, Heero slowly started levering himself to his feet, clutching his left arm against his side to quell some of the stinging ache in his chest.
As he stumbled over to Zechs, he paused, giving his Captain a moment to compose himself before asking, "Who's IC [3]?"
Gently lowering Otto to the ground once more, Zechs slowly peered around him, noting the quiet rigs, the still bodies, and the fire now burning unchecked. Taking the hand the Heero offered, Zechs pulled himself to his feet.
"Find Duo. Find Quatre and Trowa. Check the others. I'm going to find the IC and notify Control. We need some back-up," he grated out, his voice thick and well on its way to abused.
Heero nodded sharply and continued towards Engine 8. As he neared the pump panel, he felt his breath hitch in his lungs; Duo's bunker jacket hung from one of the handles on the panel. The thumb hole had gotten caught, and the whole coat was now peppered with dozens of jagged tears, some even still sporting the shrapnel that tore them. Just beyond the panel, Duo's helmet teetered against the pavement, the chinstrap ripped in two, face shield missing, and a crack running from brim to shield mount.
"Duo?"
There was no answer to his tentative call, nor could Heero spot even so much as a pile of debris that could be hiding the braided Driver. His breath quickened in his lungs, heedless of the pain in his chest. Heero's pace picked up as he jogged past Engine 8, pain all but forgotten.
Beyond Engine 8, Medic 6 sat, mostly unscathed, save for a few cosmetic scratches and dents. Of Trowa and Quatre there was no sign yet, however as Heero jogged around towards the front, he stumbled upon a limp bundle dressed in battered bunker pants and a uniform shirt. There was blood in that chestnut brown hair, though the braid looked undamaged.
"Duo!"
Heero dropped to the ground, kneeling beside his partner. He felt carefully along Duo's head, examining the place where the Driver's hair was matted with blood. Though his exploring fingers encountered a sizable lump with a laceration at its center, Duo did not stir. Training took over, and Heero found himself almost a passenger in his own mind as he briskly examined his partner for any other injuries, moving Duo as little as possible. He could feel a long, deep laceration to Duo's right shoulder which bled sluggishly and would require stitches, but little else significant upon initial examination.
A cervical collar suddenly manifested beside him.
"I'll get the collar on him, you just hold him still for a moment, Heero," Quatre ordered calmly.
Heero nodded, noting the dark black eye Quatre sported, as well as the deep scrapes dotting his hands, arms, and face. In moments, Quatre had the collar securely adjusted, and was helping Heero roll Duo onto a backboard. As they settled the braided Driver onto the sturdy plastic appliance, Duo groaned softly, and tried to bat their hands away.
"Be still, Duo," Heero said, feigning a calm that he didn't feel. "Let us help you."
" ...heero?" Duo croaked, amethyst eyes slowly blinking open to stare up at him.
"I'm here. You're hurt, Duo. Took a bad hit to your head. Your braid is fine," Heero assured him, heading off that question before Duo could fret about it. "But you have to go to the hospital to get checked out. You didn't wake up at first when I checked on you. Okay?"
Duo blinked again, in too much pain and still too dazed to make much sense of what was going on. But if Heero wanted him to do this thing, he would.
"sure, 'ro," he murmured in reply, trying to nod his head. He didn't get far with the collar on, but the tiny movement that he did manage sent a ballooning wave of pain racing through his brain. With a whimper of pain, Duo vowed to himself to simply shut his eyes and be as still as possible.
"We have to strap you down to this board, Duo," Heero continued, trailing a soothing fingertip across Duo's bruised brow. "You all right with that?"
" ...be still... I pr'mise," Duo murmured, feeling the world start to slip away again.
With Quatre's efficient help, they quickly had Duo secured to the board, ready for transport.
"We have to wait to see who else needs to go," Quatre explained. "I don't know how many ambulances we can get here or how fast."
Heero let the soldier within him take his temper by the throat, silencing his anxiety with nothing more than a curt nod.
"Did you realize that you have a piece of steel embedded in your shoulder?" Quatre asked conversationally as he stood and offered Heero a hand up.
Blinking in surprise, the Japanese firefighter took a moment to actually take stock of his own injuries. Just as Quatre had said, there was a pencil thin sliver of steel protruding from his left shoulder. Shifting, Heero could feel it digging deep into the muscles of his upper chest. Before Quatre could stop him, he grasped the sliver and yanked it out, biting off a curse as the larger, jagged edge came free.
"How bad is it?" he asked, tossing the piece away as he and Quatre headed towards the next limp body.
"You'll live."
"Not me. This," Heero replied, indicating the whole scene with a quick wave of his hand.
"Bad," was Quatre's clipped answer.
Heero had never heard the normally cheerful blonde sound so grim. Across the parking lot, Medic 4 was loading up a pair of boards loaded with bodies still half dressed in bunker gear. Not far away, Trowa was standing from another body, pausing to drape a bunker coat over the still figure's face. Beyond him, Zechs stood amidst the chaos, speaking tersely into his radio, and directing those few ambulatory firefighters to care for the injured. Hilde appeared beside him then, a hasty bandage of strips torn from her nomex hood tied about her forehead, the center already dyed crimson.
Quatre waved him over to where he knelt next to the Driver from Truck 2. With the fierce grimace of pain and the soot, grime, and blood, it took Heero precious seconds to recognize Walker. Everyone wore a mask of sweat, blood, ash, and disbelief.
He helped Quatre move Walker onto another backboard, carefully cradling the Driver's messily fractured Femur as they rolled him onto the board. With practiced ease, Quatre snapped the straps in place, and then called for Trowa.
"I want to get Walker and Duo in to the hospital ASAP," he explained to Heero, directing him to help carry Walker, board and all, over to where the battle scarred Medic 6 waited. "This leg can't wait, and I'm not happy about Duo's level of consciousness."
Heero nodded in relief, letting Trowa hop up into the back of the ambulance before he and Quatre slid Walker in onto the stretcher. Hopping up inside, they quickly moved Walker over onto the padded bench where the medic usually sat, and then went to get Duo.
The braided driver was unconscious once more, and didn't stir when they lifted him up into the ambulance. Heero made to hop up inside with them, but Quatre shook his head and pushed him gently back out.
"They need you here, Heero. There's nothing you can do on the way to the hospital for him. We just need to get him there fast. You can help here, though. He'll be waiting for you."
Heero wanted to shout. He wanted to push Quatre out of the way and stay by Duo's side, but simply found himself nodding, his protests silent.
As if he could hear those unspoken denials, Quatre patted him gently on his uninjured shoulder, then hopped down out of the back of the ambulance and closed the doors. "Trowa will take good care of him," he said, slipping past Heero to hop into the driver's seat.
As Medic 6 glided out of the parking lot and out of site, Heero turned back to the scene. His Captain needed him. There was fire to extinguish.
"So what's the count to now?" Heero intoned quietly.
Trowa's fingers never paused as they skillfully wrapped the thick tape around Heero's chest, splinting his four fractured ribs. When he answered, it was quiet, subdued even for the normally soft spoken paramedic.
"Five."
"Who?"
"Investigator, Engine 12 Captain, Truck 2 Captain, Truck 2 firefighter, Engine 3 Driver," Trowa replied, securing the last of the tape with one of his trademarked knots. "Most of the rest will be out for a couple of weeks, injured. Like you."
"Any word on Duo yet?"
Trowa sighed, expecting the question, even though he'd already heard it three times in the last ten minutes since entering the small room they'd finally stuck Heero in at the ER. The nurses had evidently gotten sick of hearing the question, too, as they begged Trowa to go tape up Heero's ribs and bandage his shoulder where the doctor had put in fifteen stitches. None of the rest of the staff had wanted anything more to do with the impatient Japanese firefighter.
"Preliminary CT scan indicated a pretty good concussion, and he's going to need about thirty stitches in that shoulder. Other than that, I don't know any more than I did five minutes ago, Heero," Trowa replied patiently.
"Station 12 lost three out of six," Heero observed softly, flashing back to the grim determination on Hilde's face, and the agonized grimace on Walker's.
"Yeah."
"Where's Zechs?"
"They splinted up his fractured shoulder, and then he headed back out to the scene. Wufei's there investigating," Trowa said, folding tiredly into one of the stiff, ugly chairs beside Heero.
Heero nodded, guiltily glad that his Captain hadn't tracked him down to go back there with him. He wanted to be here when Duo got out of CT and they let Heero up to see him.
"Report's going to be a nightmare."
Trowa nodded, his bangs obscuring both eyes as he dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. "What the fuck happened?" he whispered.
"Hell."
"Go to hell," Duo said distinctly.
At least he thought he said it distinctly. With the pain and concussion garbling his speech, what actually came out was something more along the lines of, "graw tho awllh."
"That's what got us all into this mess in the first place, Duo," Quatre explained, gently cajoling his friend into consciousness. "But now you have to wake up. Otherwise the nice Doctor won't let you go home to rest. You'll have to stay here in that lumpy hospital bed, while Heero gets sent home to pace and fret because the nurses are all to scared to let him stay with you."
"H'ro?"
"Yes, Heero. He's waiting for you downstairs with Trowa. If you wake up enough to convince the Doctor that you aren't going to die on us tonight, he'll probably let Heero take you home to rest off this concussion. They need all the hospital beds they can get right now, so you have to wake all the way up now," Quatre said, raising the head of Duo's stretcher a little.
His efforts were rewarded when Duo opened his eyes and tried to sit up straighter. The braided Driver couldn't quite muffle the groan of pain that the bright lights gave him, but he at least didn't curl back up into a tight little ball again.
"Sucks."
"Yes, it does. You've got five minutes to wake up enough to convince the Doctor that you're coherent enough to not be a danger to yourself," Quatre instructed. "Otherwise, it won't. And that would really suck. Understand?"
Duo blinked a little as he followed that bit of uniquely Quatre logic to the end, an alarmed look crossing his face after a moment. Quatre grinned a little to himself as Duo straightened up on the stretcher, concentrating on waking up.
"Hey, Quatre?"
"Hm?"
"Why would they s'nd me home if Heero had'ta stay here when he got hurt like th's?" Duo asked, concentrating on not slurring too many of his words.
"Because Heero had a brain contusion. You've got a concussion, which isn't quite as bad. It may not feel like that right now, but with a little rest and some company to wake you up every hour or so, your head will clear up."
"Oh," Duo said, frowning. "Hate this place, Quatre."
"I know, Duo," the blonde paramedic murmured in response. He cast a critical eye over his friend, satisfied to see more lucidity creeping into Duo's expression with each moment that he was awake.
"I'm ready, Quatre," Duo said carefully. "Send him in. I wanna go home."
"I'll go see if they have your discharge papers ready, Heero," Trowa said an instant before Heero would have popped back up to his feet to start pacing again.
"Already have them," Quatre commented from the doorway, waving a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand.
"Duo!" Heero exclaimed a little more loudly than he had planned. He hopped down off the stretcher and strode over to the door where Quatre was now wheeling the bandaged Driver into the room in a wheel chair.
"I also have Duo's discharge papers," Quatre continued mildly as he stepped out of the way and positioned himself next to Trowa. "Heero, you're under orders to take it easy for at least the next week. Those ribs are fractured pretty good, and the Doc doesn't want to see you back here to replace the stitches in your shoulder. He said at least a couple of weeks. I know you better. I'll be happy if you can behave yourself for a week.
"As for Duo, he has to go home with you, or you with him," Quatre explained, hiding a little smile when Heero briefly glared at him. "You have to wake him up every hour or two for the next 24 hours. He's got a concussion, and a pretty good lump on the back of his skull. They wanted to trim his hair a little to stitch it up, but I wouldn't let them. Therefore he's got to stay bandaged for a few days while the laceration heals up. Nothing too strenuous," he warned, smirking, "for the next 36 hours."
Trowa nudged his partner in the ribs gently with his elbow, his too-calm expression giving him away. Quatre merely smiled a little wider.
"Unfortunately, since you have a concussion, the docs don't want to give you too much in the way of pain meds for the first day or so, so that the meds don't mask any symptoms they didn't spot yet. If you start feeling-"
"I know the drill, Quatre," Duo interrupted impatiently. "Can we get out of here now?"
Heero nodded sharply, echoing Duo's sentiments.
"I wondered how long you were going to last," Trowa remarked. "We'll run you back to the station in the ambulance."
"I wanna go to the waiting room, first. We still got Brothers here. And Zechs is still at the scene," Duo said quietly.
Heero's eyes darkened, and he nodded curtly. Trowa and Quatre fell into place beside him as he guided Duo's wheel chair out the door and down the hall. Just beyond a set of swinging doors, a handful of figures in black-stained bunker pants milled aimlessly about. Discarded cups of cold coffee lay scattered about the room, a few still clutched in nerveless hands. Subdued murmurs of welcome greeted them, though no one offered to maintain eye contact for long.
Duo felt a little sick to his stomach at the defeated miasma filling the room. These were firemen. They didn't roll over for anyone. Firemen always won, right?
A door in the opposite wall swung open and Hilde entered, a fresh, clean bandage wrapped around her brow. As she swung her bunker coat to the floor in a corner, Duo noted that the left sleeve of her T-shirt had been cut off, and another clean bandage was wrapped around her bicep.
"Muller's in ICU. He just came out of surgery. They got him all stitched back together, but he's still burned pretty bad. They aren't going to let anyone up to see him for a while. Tomorrow maybe. Alex is still in surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but the nurse said the Docs are optimistic since he's not burned as bad," she recited, detailing the condition of the firefighters from Engine 7 and Engine 3. "Walker's up in recovery. They had to put a BAR [4] in his leg to get it all back together again. He lost a lot of blood, too, but not as bad as Alex. Nurse said that we should be able to see him in about ten minutes or so, but he's gonna be doped up on Morphine."
As the other guys nodded and murmured quietly to themselves, Duo stood up carefully from his wheel chair and crossed over to Hilde. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, though her jaw was set stubbornly, and her shoulders were square. Duo reached up carefully, wrapping his arms around her.
"I'm sorry, sis," he whispered gently, "Your Captain was a good guy. I'm gonna miss him, too. Gonna miss all of them."
She laid her head on his shoulder, arms coming up stiffly to return the hug. He could feel her trembling, holding onto her dignity with tooth and nail.
"We gotta find out who did this, Duo. They gotta pay."
"I swear to you, Hilde. They will."
They simply held each other silently for several long minutes after that. Eventually, Hilde disentangled herself, reassuming her mantle of calm control.
"The Chief's already called in guys to cover all our positions for the rest of the night, and we're all on leave for the next three shifts at least. There's nothing you can do here for a while. Zechs is back at the scene. Go take care of him, bro."
"Yes, m'am," Duo replied, backing away. Just before he turned away, he cast a searching look over the female firefighter. "Get some rest sometime, sis."
"You, too," Hilde replied as Duo led Heero, Trowa, and Quatre back through the swinging doors.
Wufei wiped his gloved hand off on his bunkers absently, filing away his thoughts for later categorizing into his notes. Around him, large generators supplied power to dozens of halogen quartz lights illuminating the scene. Turning his head, Wufei glanced back towards the Investigations van parked just beyond the rings of light. Through the driver's open window, he could just make out Zechs' form in the passenger seat, chin tucked against his chest and head resting against his own window. Though shadows shrouded most of his features, Wufei could read the exhaustion permeating every cell of his lover's body, and hoped that Zechs was actually napping, rather than simply resting with his eyes closed. If only he could have convinced the stubborn man to go home and get real rest. Wufei would be here for hours yet.
"Investigator Chang?" a fresh faced young police officer called.
With a sigh, Wufei rose to his feet, turning towards the soft call. Well past the policeman who'd called him, the Coroner oversaw the loading of the last of the dark black bags into the back of another ambulance.
Bastards. Whoever did this would meet justice if it took Wufei the rest of his life. He would see them pay.
"This way, sir," the young cop said diffidently as Wufei approached. "One of the detectives found something he wants you to look at in the steam tunnels."
"Lead on."
As Wufei vanished into a hastily erected tent over a narrow stairway, another ambulance pulled up and parked beside the Investigations van. The back doors opened admitting Heero and Duo to the scene, even as Trowa and Quatre hopped out of the front cab. In the van beside them, Zechs lifted his head, eyeing them all with a frown as he slowly climbed out to meet them.
"What are you all doing here?" he asked, voice rough with the late hour and the abuse he'd put it through earlier.
"Our Captain's here," Heero replied.
"And there's not much we can do back at the hospital," Duo added.
"You should go home. Rest. The Chief has relieved all of you for the next few shifts," Zechs admonished.
"Pot? Kettle? Black?" Duo shot back, though the effect his bandage had on trying to arch his brow turned out somewhat more humorous than he'd intended. Despite that, Zechs' expression didn't change.
"When Wufei is ready."
"We'll go home in a little while, Zechs, but for now... we want to be here," Trowa said, a sentiment which everybody echoed with sharp nods.
"Hilde talked to the doc before we left," Duo said, shifting to lean against Heero a little. "Muller's in ICU, out of surgery but burned. Alex was still in surgery, but not burned as bad. Walker got a BAR for his leg, but should be okay."
Zechs nodded, leaning back against the bumper of the van and crossing his arms to stare out over the scene morbidly.
Several minutes passed in silence before Wufei reappeared from the small tent. His dark eyes instantly picked out the ambulance parked next to the van and the figures gathered in front. Thanking the young man who had guided him down into the tunnels and back, Wufei picked his way carefully across the debris field to his friends.
"You should all be home resting," he scolded.
"What happened here, Wufei?" Heero asked bluntly, reading something in the Investigator's expression that the other's hadn't seen yet.
"It's an open investigation, Yuy," Wufei tried to bluff, wishing the Japanese firefighter were a little less astute.
"And we all nearly got killed tonight, Chang. Some of them did die. What happened?"
With a muttered curse, Wufei turned and stared back over the scene again. Taking a breath, he faced them all again and leaned in. "I don't know enough yet. I'm working it out, but parts have been discovered that could be part of a large explosive incendiary device. I've got some different forensics experts coming in to take samples."
"It was a trap," Heero breathed.
"The other two Generals. They were just a diversion to thin out manpower here, weren't they?" Zechs guessed.
"That's the current theory," Wufei admitted reluctantly.
"Theory?" Duo hissed. "Wufei, guys died tonight..."
"Damnit, what do you want me to say? That there's a madman out there trying to kill us and our friends, and I haven't figured out how to catch him yet?" Wufei demanded in a harsh growl. "That I don't have any real proof of it other than some unconnected fire scenes and a gut feeling, and the Chief of Police has already threatened to take this case out of Arson's hands, thus guaranteeing that we may never see real justice done?"
"It's not your fault, Wufei," Quatre said softly.
"It is," Wufei contradicted sharply, "And if I don't start figuring things out damned soon, more of us will die."
"They won't," Heero declared. "The cops won't take this away from us, and we," he continued, emphasizing the last word with a wave of his hand that included them all, "Will find whoever did this and make it right again."
Wufei met Heero's determined gaze with one of his own, deep ocean blue crackling against ebony, daring him to refute the statement. Relief flooded through the Chinese Investigator.
"Then you need to get out of my scene so I can get back to work," he finally said, voice weary, though sure. "Quatre, you and Trowa will make that stubborn, infernal Captain go as well, even if you have to hog tie him and drag him home with you. We will all meet tomorrow afternoon - this afternoon, actually, at Duo's house to discuss what I find out tonight. Until such time, I don't want to see your ugly faces here anymore. Is that understood?"
Zechs frowned, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, though the others nodded.
"You are," Wufei growled, stabbing Zechs in the chest with a fingertip, "damn well going to go home. Our home, with them, I don't care. But you are leaving here, going someplace with a bed, and getting some god-damned rest. Otherwise you can resolve yourself to sleeping in a very lonely bed for the next several weeks. I need you clear headed to make up for me tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Captain Marquise?"
Zechs opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it as the whole of Wufei's guttural threats sorted themselves out. With a grumble and a glare, he finally nodded sharply, clearly still not happy but unwilling to risk his lover's wrath.
"Can I trust you to go home, or do I need to make someone baby-sit you?"
"I'll go. I'll stay there until you get home. Just as long as you promise not to do anything stupid yourself," Zechs replied, crossing his arms again.
"Fine," Wufei sighed, rubbing his temple, "Noin will be here as soon as she's finished with the other scene. Now, will you all get out of here so I can get back to work?"
Silent nods were his only answer, and everyone turned to file back to the ambulance. Zechs paused before slipping around to the rear doors.
"It wasn't your fault, Wufei."
"I'll see you later in the morning. Thirteen hundred hours [5] at Duo's. Remind them."
With a sigh, Zechs simply nodded and vanished into Medic 6. Wufei didn't turn back to watch as the ambulance slipped away into the darkness of the night. There was still too much work to be done.
End Part 25
Notes:
[1] full thickness burns - once known as Third Degree burns, these
burns penetrate all layers of skin and into the muscles. Typically, the
burn itself doesn't hurt, as all the nerve endings in the upper layers of
skin are gone. The edges of the burn, however, which surface to the
upper layers of the skin, can and will be incredibly painful. Burn
mortality rates are typically figured by taking the degree of burn (1st, 2nd,
3rd) and multiplying by 10. Add this number to the percentage of the
body that is burned, and that is the patient's chance of *dying*, not
surviving. (so a person with full thickness burns over 70% of his or her
body would have a 100% chance of dying - 3 x 10 + 70 = 100. Not an
ironclad rule, but a general guideline.)
[2] PASS Device - each firefighter is now required to be fitted with a small motion sensitive device. Some of them are activated manually - turn it on when in use - while others are integrated into the air packs - when the firefighter turns on his or her air supply, the PASS device activates automatically. If the PASS device, and thusly the firefighter, remain motionless for 30 seconds, a warning tone will begin to sound. After another 10 seconds of inactivity, the PASS device will go into full alarm. This is usually a high pitched, piercing whistle or scream that alerts other firefighters that one of their Brothers or Sisters is down and most likely incapacitated in some way. The whistling tone in the background of many of the pieces of 9-11 footage after the collapse of one or both Towers is a prime example of the alarm of a typical PASS device. The alarm may also be triggered manually if a firefighter knows that he or she is in, or about to get into, a lot of trouble, and doesn't want to have to wait 40 seconds for help.
[3] IC - Incident Commander. This is the guy in charge of the whole scene.
[4] BAR - Big Ass Rod. EMT speak for a steel surgical appliance inserted into the shaft of a long bone to stabilize really bad fractures. This appliance will never be removed, and will become part of the patient's bone. Very similar to a BAP or Big Ass Plate used to stabilize fractures in larger bones such as shoulder, pelvis or skull.
[5] thirteen hundred hours - military time for 1 pm. 12 am through 12 pm is 0000 hours through 1200 hours, with 1 pm through 11 pm being 1300 hours through 2300 hours.
RavynFyre