Chapter Text
The day started off like any other. Well, any other since Bobby died and Chimney took over as Captain of the 118.
Looking back on it, Buck didn’t know where Chimney had gotten that it was a good idea to start each shift with lineups. Bobby never did them, instead opting for team huddles or meetings in the training room. They had a handful of fill-in Captains over the years, even before Bobby died, for various reasons, and Buck couldn’t remember any of them doing lineups either. In fact, the only Captain Buck could ever recall doing the practice was Gerard, and Buck was pretty sure that Chimney was trying to be anyone other than Gerrard.
Nevertheless, here they were, doing lineups.
“Ravi, are long sleeves really necessary?” Chimney asked as he looked Ravi up and down.
Ravi did his utmost best to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “It’s November Cap,” he said in response. “The temperature is finally dropping and I get cold easily.”
“But it’s still sixty outside!”
“Like I said, I get cold easily,” Ravi said and then looked at Buck standing on his right. “And you didn’t say anything about Buck wearing long sleeves.”
“He’s right about that, Chim,” Hen said from the other side of Buck.
Chimney knew when the crew was trying to push his buttons, which they seemed to be doing a lot more often ever since the space incident. And instead of falling into it like he had done too many times already, he changed the subject.
“Well, we're done with this part. Now,” he looked at the list of topics he always wrote down before the start of shift. “Weather report. Highs of 65, lows of 45 tonight. Sunny all day long. Hopefully we won’t get too many crazy calls today.”
“Keep talking like that and you’re going to jinx us,” Hen said dryly.
Chimney shook his head. “I am not,” he said. “There’s no such thing as getting jinxed for saying the weather is nice outside.”
“No, but there is such a thing as saying you think we’ll get less calls,” Buck said.
“Look you guys, you can’t say I’m wrong about everything I say here,” Chimney said. “You’re supposed to be supporting me.”
“Oh, we do support you Cap,” Buck said, smiling teasingly. “And we do that by telling you when you’re wrong.”
“Okay, you know what, we’re done here, you’re dismissed,” Chimney said before he ended up throwing the clipboard in his hands across the room. “I’ve already said everything I need to go over anyway.”
As everyone dispersed, Hen hung back with Chimney for just a second. “If we do get jinxed,” she said. “It will be all your fault, not Buck or Ravi’s this time.”
And boy did Hen end up being right with saying that.
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The call came in just after 1 p.m.
Helicopter crash. Rustic Canyon Golf Course.
“Alright everybody! Let’s go!” Chimney shouted at all of them as they loaded into the engine and pulled out of the station.
As they drove to the scene, another report came in.
Downed helicopter, couldn’t make contact with the pilots on board, from air operations.
Buck’s head picked up as he heard the last part. He leant in forward to ask Chimney, “do they know who was onboard?”
Chimney sighed, knowing what Buck was asking without him needing to say that. He picked up his radio, asking dispatch if they knew who the pilots on board were.
It took a couple of seconds for them to respond.
“We’re still waiting for confirmation, but we believe they are pilots de Santos and Kinard.”
Buck felt his stomach drop out of him as he heard those words.
That couldn’t be right - couldn’t be.
If Tommy was on that helicopter, Buck didn’t know what he would do.
Ravi made eye contact with him as they made one of the last turns to reach the golf course, trying to show his support, but Buck couldn’t focus on that right now. All he could think about was how there was a crashed helicopter, and Tommy was probably on it. Also, Tommy wasn’t responding to any calls dispatch was sending them. And maybe that was because there were some comm issues on the helicopter, it did crash after all, but something was telling Buck it was much worse than that.
They pulled into the main area of the golf course and couldn’t miss the helicopter smack dab in the middle of hole two. It was on its side, blades pointed down into the dirt. From the sound of its motor, it was obviously still on, but the compacted ground was stopping the blades from spinning.
Buck was out of the engine’s cab not even two seconds after it stopped. Chimney was rushing down at the same time, grabbing the back of his turnouts and jerking him to a stop.
“Chimney, we have to go save him!” Buck yelled out, trying to get out of Chimney’s grip.
“You need to slow down, man,” Chimney said. “You don’t even have any equipment on you.
“But-”
“Buck if you don’t calm down I’m going to make you stay in the truck until we’re done here,” Chimney said, very sternly. As Buck turned his head around and back into Chimney’s eyes, he knew the Captain was serious.
He let out a breath. “Okay… okay.”
Then they all started moving, Buck grabbing the jaws and running down to the helicopter alongside Ravi, the others not far behind them. The most important thing they had to do before helping whoever was inside was to power down the helicopter, and as Buck climbed up from the underside to open the door, he was face to face with the person he was still praying wasn’t on board.
Tommy.
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Earlier that day, Tommy and his current co-pilot, a newer member of the 217 named de Santos, were called out for a medevac call. Moving a kid in critical condition who was injured in a car accident to the closest hospital.
Everything had gone smoothly, one of the smoothest flights Tommy could remember in a long while. He knew de Santos had been flying for years, decades, possibly even longer than himself, his skills definitely showed. Harbor had gotten lucky that the man had to relocate to LA for some family reasons. Tommy didn’t know what they were specifically, and he didn’t really care, but he knew when someone was a good pilot, and de Santos was one.
Which was probably why neither of them had expected for everything to go to shit so quickly.
One second they were going back to Harbor station from the hospital. de Santos, the giant golf nerd, had talked Tommy into flying over the golf course he had plans on going to that weekend. The flying conditions were perfect, clear skies, a light enough breeze to help them fly but not too gusty to make them do more work than necessary.
Then all of a sudden an alarm started sounding from the dashboard.
“Do you know what that is?” Tommy asked as his eyes shifted back and forth, not finding what could be wrong.
“I don’t see anything,” de Santos said, his gaze going all around the cockpit, the same as Tommy’s was.
And then they felt a lurch from somewhere around them, before Tommy knew it, they had been spun off course. He quickly moved his controls, trying to correct the system, but nothing was happening, almost like the controls had been disconnected from the moving parts of the helicopter. Tommy looked out the windshield, they were going down - FAST.
“Brace for impact!” he shouted.
And then everything went dark.
Tommy woke up, surrounded by pain. Most of it coming from the pounding in his head and a pulsing pain in his arm. He tried to blink his eyes open, but it was hard, and everything was blurry. It also felt like blood was covering his forehead and eyes. He tried to lift the arm that wasn’t in pain up to the radio, but he didn’t think it was moving.
And then everything went dark again.
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It took them all a hell of a lot longer than Buck wanted for them to get Tommy and the other pilot out of the helicopter. Once they were out, Buck could only stand there transfixed as Hen and Eddie worked on Tommy.
The other pilot was being worked on by another pair of paramedics that had shown up. He was somewhat conscious, definitely out of it and not aware of what was going on around him.
Tommy on the other hand, hadn’t even blinked his eyes open or let out a small groan since Buck had opened the door to the cockpit. He already had a c-collar wrapped around his neck and was strapped to a backboard. As Buck’s eyes roamed up and down Tommy’s unconscious body, Buck noticed that he had blood all over the left side of his face, and there was blood coming out of his ear.
That’s not good, Buck told himself. None of this was good, but that certainly wasn’t good.
“Pupils nonreactive,” Eddie said as he was examining Tommy.
Again, not good.
“We need to move!” Hen said as they pulled up a gurney next to Tommy. They quickly picked up the backboard he was already strapped onto and placed it on the gurney, moving that onto the ambulance.
Buck wanted to go with them, go with Tommy to the hospital, make sure he got there, make sure he survived long enough to get there. But he could already feel Chimney’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back from doing so. Buck could only watch as they closed the doors to the ambulance and it drove off.
He turned around to face Chimney. “We can follow them, right?” he asked, his voice desperate. “Go to the hospital? We… I… need to know he’ll be okay.”
“Of course,” Chimney said. “We just have to secure the scene here. The NTSB is already sending their people out here to investigate the crash, once they’re here we can go.”
Buck nodded numbly. All of that made sense. It wasn’t like they’d be able to do anything at the hospital anyway other than wait. Tommy was probably going to be taken directly to the back, even if he did wake up between here and the ER doors.
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Meanwhile in the ambulance, things were growing worse, a lot worse.
The closest hospital was an eight minute drive away using the sirens. All Hen and Eddie had to do was get Tommy there without him coding. There was nothing much more they could do between here and there.
But before they had even gotten onto the main road, Tommy started seizing.
“Fuck,” Eddie cursed as soon as he realized what was happening.
On the other side of Tommy, Hen reached over to the IV line they had already put in. “I’m giving him Midazolam,” she said as Eddie worked to make sure Tommy’s airway stayed clear. The last thing either of them needed was for him to stop breathing now.
“How much longer until we get there?” Eddie yelled out to the man driving the ambulance.
“At least four more minutes,” they replied.
Eddie cursed again when it was becoming clear the medication Hen had given Tommy wasn’t having any effect.
“Can you give him some more?” he asked her.
Hen shook her head. “I already gave him the max amount,” she said, regretfully. “Need to wait at least another five minutes if we don’t want to overdose him.”
“Shit, shit,” Eddie muttered.
As they pulled up outside the ambulance entrance to the Emergency Room, Tommy was still seizing.
“How long has this been happening?” the doctor that met them at the door asked as they pushed Tommy through the door.
“At least five minutes,” Hen said as she ran through everything they had done so far.
“We got it from here,” one of the ER nurses said as they took him away. Most likely straight into surgery after they got a couple scans.
Now all that was left for them was to wait.
And boy did it become a long wait.