Flip

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)