"You know, we have sick days for a reason."

Sloane lifted her head from where it had been resting on her folded arms on the dining table at the firehouse. She sniffled as she watched Chimney move into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, taking an extra moment to switch on the kettle before he walked over and sat across from her.

"I'm not sick," Sloane replied, and she swore she saw Chimney physically recoil at her gravelly-sounding voice. "Just have the sniffles. I'm not going to leave you guys short-handed for that."

"That sounds like more than the sniffles," Bobby commented as he reached the top of the stairs, hearing her response as he ascended. "You can head home for the day to rest; we'll manage."

"No, no, I don't want to go home," Sloane whined like a child. Bobby sat next to her, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. She rolled her eyes. "I don't have a fever, I checked. I'm telling you, I'm not sick."

"Hey, I didn't know we hired Optimus Prime," Eddie commented as he joined the three seated upstairs, Buck trailing shortly behind him. Everyone but Sloane laughed at his joke. "That better not be contagious. I already caught enough viruses from Chris and his class last year."

"It's not contagious 'cause I'm not sick," Sloane responded, earning a round of uncertain looks from the guys around her. Chimney got up and returned to the kitchen to fill a mug with now boiling water, dropping a chamomile tea bag into it before walking back over and placing the cup in front of Sloane. "Thanks, Chim."

"It's not for a cold; just being nice..." Chimney trailed off, sitting back down in his chair as Sloane huffed in frustration at the comment accompanied by a genuine smile. She mouthed another thank you to him when she was sure no one else was looking, and he nodded in response.

"If Sloane doesn't want to take her sick day, can I just take the day off for her?" Buck asked Bobby, almost sounding too genuine in his request that Bobby stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, earning a sigh from Buck, who sat down on the edge of the table at the opposite end of the others, chatting quietly with Eddie.

Soon after Hen arrived for work, the bell rang. They were quick to race downstairs and into the trucks after donning their turnout gear, Sloane jumping behind the wheel and flipping on the sirens and lights as she pulled out of the station, Hen following behind her in the ambulance.

The first call of the shift was a house fire contained in a kitchen a couple of blocks away. It was easily put out by a single extinguisher after the homeowner immediately called 9-1-1. The crew had barely gotten out of their turnout gear upon returning to the station when the bell sounded again, this time for a pile-up on the freeway with morning traffic.

When no expletives left Sloane's mouth as she navigated the truck to the scene, only sounding the horn at times to urge people out of the way, Bobby had looked back at Eddie and Buck, who seemed equally surprised at the very calm woman. It wasn't to say that she wasn't this quiet on other days, but she would usually comment on a "dumbass" or two on the way.

A couple of police officers had already been on the scene by the time the 118 had arrived to assess the situation. The officers had been able to redirect most of the cars to the side of the road, already beginning the triage process. The fire crew got to work on an older man still in his car, complaining of back and neck pain. Sloane helped with extracting him from the vehicle, making sure to keep his neck straight with the help of a brace as they transferred him onto a backboard and then onto a stretcher.

Buck glanced over after the man had been taken away by paramedics, finding Sloane wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, her chest heaving slightly. He had seen her run out of a burning house on her first day, and she had looked much less exhausted than this.

"You good?"

The words left his lips before he could think, earning Sloane's attention as she dropped her hand back to her side. She nodded in response, unconvincingly, back at Buck. He also nodded, but she knew he didn't believe her when he started to watch her out of the corner of his eye as they moved to help Hen and Chimney clear the triaged individuals on the side of the road.

After ensuring there were no other serious injuries amongst the others involved in the pile-up, the crew returned to the station again. Sloane immediately shed her heavy gear and disappeared into the bunk room at the back of the building, pulling the covers over her head once she laid down on her designated bed, hoping to sleep off whatever was causing her to feel so sick.

"Bobby, we can't let her go on like this," Hen voiced her concerns shortly after the crew had heard Sloane close the door, glancing over at the Captain with worry etched onto her face. Bobby nodded in agreement, knowing that allowing anyone on the team to perform when they weren't at their best could be detrimental to the outcomes of those calling them for assistance.

"Let her rest. If she's still not a hundred percent when the next call comes in, I'll have her stay behind," Bobby responded, seeming to appease Hen's worries when she agreed to the terms, sending one more look towards the closed bunk room door before Chimney patted her arm. The two of them led the way upstairs to find something to eat for lunch.

Bobby had to hold himself back from checking on Sloane for the next hour as the rest of the crew sat at the table eating various leftovers they had found in the fridge in the form of a potluck. He had promised Sloane that nothing at work would change after their conversation following the AA meeting, but he still worried for her a little more than the others, especially since she had voiced her desire to use again at the same meeting.

He then felt guilty for assuming that she was using again and that was the reason for her symptoms rather than a common cold-which was making the rounds at an increased pace during the winter months. Hen and Karen picked up something from their son, Denny's, class not even a month ago. Hadn't Sloane earned his trust?

But, as the week passed and Sloane continued to show up at work feeling unwell, Bobby became more worried. He couldn't seem to stop himself from thinking of the worst-case scenario. And so, that's how Sloane ended up in his office in the middle of the night as both of them remained awake, concern seeming to be permanently etched on his face as he watched her try to take a deep breath in through her congested nose, turning it into a release of air through a grating cough instead.

"I know I promised that nothing you shared with me would affect your work here..."

"Bobby, it's fine. I get why you're concerned. I promise I didn't relapse. This cold won't go away, and I've been avoiding over-the-counter medications, which is why I think it's sticking around so long," Sloane responded, immediately reading his thoughts and having figured out his concerns when they were working together as he seemed to hover a bit more, keeping an eye on her. It didn't bother her. Honestly, she found it endearing that he cared so much. And when she saw the concern melt into guilt for assuming the worst, she was quick to continue. "Thank you. For caring."

Before Bobby could respond to her appreciation and apologize again, the bell startled them into action. The two jumped out of their respective seats to rush out to meet the rest of the team, who were gearing up and jumping into the trucks while rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

When the crew arrived at the caller's location, they found a full-blown fight between two men in front of a dumpster full of burning garbage, forming an almost humorous Fight Club ambiance. Noticing one of the men was wearing all black with a matching half-body apron around his waist, Sloane figured that the presumed waiter was likely tussling with who started the fire.

Patrons from the bar had flooded out of the front door, cell phones raised to record the fight, egging the two men on with cheers after either got a decent hit in on the other.

"Hey, hey! Break it up!" A strong female voice commanded over the noise. Sloane turned her head away from where she was pulling a hose out of the side of the engine to spot Athena approaching the scene after jumping out of her lit-up patrol car. As Athena and her rapidly arriving backup worked on safely breaking the two men apart, the firefighters focused on putting out the large fire, spraying down the dumpster multiple times until the remaining trash inside stopped spontaneously reigniting.

Sloane approached the dumpster to give the all-clear, opening her mouth to tell her team it was completely out when the foul scent of the recently burning garbage hit her nose. She felt her mouth begin to water and barely had time to turn away when her stomach lurched and sent whatever contents it had out.

As she retched, she felt a hand come to rest on her back while another made sure that her tied-up curls remained out of her face as she keeled over. She could faintly hear Athena corralling the crowd away from the scene as Sloane started to dry-heave, unable to catch her breath.

"Chim, go grab some water from the truck," Hen's voice came clear from behind Sloane. Her hand momentarily stopped in the middle of Sloane's back as she spoke before continuing its comforting circles. Sloane straightened herself up, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she looked at Hen, her eyes watering. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Sloane responded, feeling the hand delicately holding her hair back pulled away. She turned her head to find Bobby behind her and that look of concern he had directed her way all week on his face again. Sloane sighed, taking a deep breath through her suddenly uncongested and smelling nose, overcome by the scent of the garbage again. She gagged, and Hen immediately redirected her away from the area and back towards the trucks, Bobby following close behind them. Buck and Eddie watched from the engine truck, having stopped putting away the hose to check in on Sloane, who waved them both off while her other hand covered her mouth, scared that if she opened it, she would start vomiting again.

"Here you go," Chimney announced as they approached, holding out a bottle of water toward the younger woman while Hen sat her down on the back of the ambulance; both she and Bobby observed Sloane with worry.

"I'm fine, I promise," Sloane announced after taking a cautious sip from the water handed to her, the condensation on the bottle cooling her sweaty palm. "I just need a minute."

"You're done for tonight," Bobby declared, immediately hearing disagreement emerge from Sloane's mouth. "This has been going on too long. Go find an urgent care and get checked out."

Not having the energy to argue more, Sloane nodded before dropping her head, feeling Hen pat her shoulder as Bobby walked away, marking the finality of his decision.

⸻

The twenty-four-hour urgent care centre near Sloane's apartment was relatively empty at three o'clock in the morning. The receptionist at the front desk signed her in, stifling a yawn as she typed in the firefighter's details and insurance, informing her that someone would see her soon.

Sloane seated herself on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the lobby, leaning back into it and tilting her head back onto the wall behind her, eyelids shutting as she waited to be called.

"Miss Hart?"

She opened her eyes at the sound of her name, blinking a few times as she realized she had fallen asleep for an indeterminate span. A nurse stood next to where she sat, clad in navy blue scrubs, pulling her outstretched hand away as Sloane woke up. The firefighter apologized profusely, earning an understanding smile from the nurse, who then directed her into an exam room in the back of the building.

After taking Sloane's vitals and stating that they were all within their normal parameters, the nurse took a seat on a stool and grabbed a clipboard off the counter in the corner of the room, rolling towards the exam bed that Sloane sat on the edge of.

"So, what brings you in?" the nurse asked, looking up at Sloane as she poised the pen to start writing.

"My boss sent me here. I've been under the weather for almost a week now, and nothing I do seems to be helping. I feel like I've tried everything to suppress the symptoms naturally because I can't use over-the-counter medications," Sloane responded, watching as the nurse wrote everything down, nodding as she listened. "But, it seems to be stubborn."

"What kind of symptoms are you having?"

"Congestion and nausea have been the two that haven't seemed to go away," Sloane replied, thinking back to the beginning of the week and that first shift she felt unwell. "I've been exhausted and can't seem to get enough sleep, but I don't have any issues sleeping through the night. The shift work doesn't help, and tonight I vomited for the first time since this started on a call, which is why I'm here now."

The nurse looked up, her eyes briefly dropping to assess the LAFD symbol printed on the t-shirt Sloane was currently wearing before she nodded in understanding and tucked her pen back into her scrub pocket.

"Alright, Miss Hart. It does sound like the flu. We'll do some bloodwork and viral swabs, and I'll also get a urine sample from you to be sure it's not a bacterial infection. The doctor will then come in to go over the results with you in about half an hour," the nurse explained, and Sloane nodded in agreement, knowing that she didn't have anywhere else to be for the rest of the night. "I'll be right back with everything."

The nurse left the room and returned moments later with everything she needed. She first took Sloane's bloodwork, filling a couple of colour-capped vials before she moved on to the swabs. She quietly apologized for the uncomfortableness as she swabbed Sloane's nose (and what felt like her brain). She then handed over the urine cup and directed Sloane to the patient washroom, asking her to place the sample behind the sliding door just outside when she finished.

Sloane did as told before returning to the room, lying down on the exam table and distracting herself with games on her dying phone until the screen turned black and flashed a red empty battery symbol at her. She sighed, not having the energy to go out to her car and grab a charger from her bag in the trunk, instead staring at the ceiling and beginning to count the tiles repetitively until the door handle turned.

Sloane sat up as a man in a white lab coat walked into the room and stared down at a tablet in his hands, using his index finger to scroll down on the screen.

The door clicked shut behind him, and that was enough to get him to look up at the exhausted woman sitting in front of him.

"Well, it's not the flu, Miss Hart."

Sloane tilted her head in surprise at the statement.

"Congratulations, you're pregnant."

♯ AUTHOR'S NOTE !

i will probably lose readers for the ending of this chapter but OH WELL because it is very important to the plot/characters and not just for shock value but some people can't seem to differentiate between the two... anyways, HARTLEY BABY HAS MADE THEIR PRESENCE KNOWN!!

this has always been the plan for the story, since the original draft i created years ago, because i think evan buckley should be a father and it seems i have to take matters into my own hands. this will be such a catalyst to his character development (aka being serious) as well as sloane's own development and recovery, which has now taken an even greater importance in her life. there will be some choices made by sloane that are probably unlikeable in the next few chapters but i beg you to put yourself into her shoes and let her get up </3.

special thank you to my love, summers, for beta-reading this chapter for me and always being so so supportive of me and my writing. i love you more than words can express.