They're still sitting at the kitchen table, breakfast long since cleared, shooting the shit when the overhead light starts blinking blue, and a second later, Beau's phone pings with a job from eDispatches.

     Maybe he's pulled the short end of the stick, being a medic, over just doing fire since the brunt of their calls are medicals. But he enjoys it. Hops up with vigor, excited to see what this side of town normally gets.

     He reaches for his radio, attached at the back of his hip, and notices JT's lack of movement.

     "That's us," he says before he calls their unit number into service.

     The kid goes wide-eyed, jumping up, hitting the table, knocking a glass of water over. The guys over-exaggerate their reaction, making him even more skittish. Eli catches Beau's gaze and mouths, "Good luck."

     Yeah, Jesus lord, he's gonna need it.

     Beau's a little nervous to have the kid behind the wheel, so he jumps in the driver's seat, turning their tablet towards him on the stand so he can look at the call details. He recognizes the address as the Walmart Supercenter. Chief Complaint says it's an infant, not breathing.

     JT is slow-moving as he jumps into the passenger seat. "A little pep in your step, yeah?"

     "Sorry," he responds quickly. "What's the call for?"

     "Infant not breathing," Beau responds, hitting the button for the bay doors as he flips the master on the dashboard. Red and blue lights reflect off the wall and the door lifts up and out of the way.

     "Infant not breathing?" he repeats back frantically.

     Beau takes a breath as he pulls out of the bay, hitting the door button again to close it once he's cleared it. "Relax," he says calmly, aiming for soothing as he turns the radio up. It's on 93.3 — country, ugh. "Switch that to 103.1"

     JT turns the radio obediently. The gritty, raw sound that could only be Springsteen comes through loudly. Beau rips the siren on beat with Born to Run, pausing at a light before he passes through it.

     He drives with tenured ease, which directly contrasts with the first few times he'd driven an ambulance with Jimmy. The adrenaline from A Call! coupled with the absolute power you feel behind a vehicle that makes other people stop had him hauling ass down the street rather recklessly.

     Jimmy had told him then, "We're useless if we die before we get there."

     So when JT says, "Shouldn't you be going faster?"

     He reaches over, turns the music down, and says (sagely he thinks), "We're fucking useless JT if we die before we get there."

     JT flushes, swallowing back a response. "So what do we do first? When we get there?"

     "Our job," Beau mutters, his response unfiltered. He recognizes immediately that it's a dickish response and it's not the kind of teacher he wants to be. He clears his throat and asks, "So how many calls have you been on roughly?"

     JT is quiet.

     Beau continues hesitantly, "You have been on calls, right?"

     "Well, I mean, I did a couple rotations during my EMT class."

     "You didn't volunteer or something?" Beau asks as he turns down the street with the Walmart. The question is a bit rhetorical because he's gathering JT did not. "Never mind. Just grab the jump bags and the iPad."

     Beau pulls into the lot, and based on the crowd of people in one of the aisles, he assumes this is where the job is. He calls them on scene as he looks for an appropriate spot to park. There's a police unit on scene, and the officer waves him over. He noses the ambulance towards him before putting it in park, setting the ignition override, and pulling the keys out.

     He hops out and notes the frantic screaming first. His brain's running. Oftentimes what a call comes in as is not what it actually is. It's possible the child was hit by a vehicle and is unresponsive. It's possible it's not a child at all.

     But there's a woman running towards him with a toddler in her arms. Looks to be a year or two. He walks up to her, meeting her halfway and practically catches the child as she shoves her into his arms, screaming, "Save my baby!"

     The baby is warm and limp. He moves around the side of the ambulance quickly as he presses his two fingers into its bicep, feeling for a brachial pulse. It's there, beating strong and fast against his fingers.

     The woman's crying and grabbing at him, screaming at him to do something as he steps into the ambulance and sets the baby on the stretcher. The baby's blue around the mouth but otherwise pale.

     "JT," he calls, not sure where his partner went but hoping he's within earshot.

     "Yeah, yeah," he hears somewhere behind him.

     "Get me a BVM."

     He sits on the bench, leaning over his patient. She's wearing a long-sleeved onesie. He lifts the neckline, pressing his hand against its chest. It's warm. He gives it a soft sternal rub to see if it'll cry, but it doesn't. It's dozing on the stretcher, blinking slowly at him.

     JT thrusts the Ambu bag at him. Beau takes it, holds it to the baby's face and gives a couple of breaths. "Alright, take this over," he says, handing him the bag. "Nice and easy, every three seconds. There you go. Keep a tight seal."

     The baby's pinking up and if it's what Beau suspects, it should be coming around shortly. He reaches over for his monitor and pulls out his leads. He can see mom in the doorway crying still and an officer holding her back.

     "You can let her in," he calls to the cop as he takes his shears out of the pocket on his thigh and leans over, snipping the front of the onesie.

     Mom jumps into the back, tears still pouring down her face. She can't make words so Beau says calmly, "Everything's alright. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

     She's shaky as she gets a response out. "She — she was in the stroller, and when I looked at her, she was like, she was all blue and still. Is she dying? What's happening?"

     Beau places his leads then he pulls the infant BP cuff out, putting it on the baby's leg. "Has she ever had a seizure before?"

     Mom shakes her head furiously. "You think she had a seizure?"

     "It's a possibility. How old is she?"

     "Twenty-two months."

       Beau puts her age in the machine and runs an ECG. The cuff inflates. Pulse is strong. BP's good. The test prints and it's normal. Then baby start's crying. Beau tells JT to stop venitlating. Her colors coming back and she's more responsive.

     "Has she been sick at all?"

     "She had a cough earlier and a fever, but I gave her medicine. The doctor said if it got worse, bring her in but she was doing fine."

     Beau nods. "It's likely the medicine wore off and her temperature spiked too quickly. Babies are very reactive. Their bodies have a tougher time than adults compensating for things like fevers. So when it happens, it shocks them and their brains produce more electrical acitivty because of it."

     Mom looks scared, her mouth trembling so Beau goes on, "It happens way more than people realize. I know it's scary, but it's not harmful at all. You can even hold her now, if you want. Go ahead."

     She doesn't hesitate, scooping her baby out of the stretcher, holding her to her chest as they both cry. "She's okay now, but if you want we can take her the hospital. They'll give her some fluids and something to keep her comfortable while she fights her cold."

     Mom nods vigorously. "Yes, definitely we should. Can I go with you?"

     Beau nods. "Yes, you'll sit there where my partner is. JT, get the pedi-mate out so we can transport."

     By the time they get to the closest Pediatric hospital, which is a little over thirty minutes away with lights (but longer because Beau tells JT not to drive with lights halfway), and then get back in town, it's nearing two o'clock.

     Beau decides to use the next hour for driver training. JT practices backing into parking spaces and driving around town. They finish by swinging by the Wendy's, picking up lunch, and eating it outside at one of the picnic tables while JT asks what Beau would definitely consider dumb questions but answers anyway.

     He's concerned about JT's lack of experience, but he doesn't say so. He just hopes nothing serious comes in until the kid gets a little more experience under his belt.

❧

     Mac catches him pacing and leans against the door frame, smirking at him until Shepherd notices and stops. "Something on your mind?" he asks, moving to a full grin, all-knowing. "Couldn't possibly be the medical they went on an hour ago?"

     "They haven't called out at the hospital," Shepherd mutters irritably. "I'm just wondering what the fuck could be taking so long. I don't want us to miss a call."

     "Mmm, you don't want us to miss a call, right," Mac says. "So, you gonna tell me about this thing between you and Decker?"

     Shepherd raises an eyebrow, unamused. "Thing?"

     "Yeah, the thing where neither of you can tolerate the other? How long's that date back to?"

     Shepherd shrugs casually, leaning against his desk. He folds his arms across his chest. "I can tolerate him just fine. What I can't tolerate is someone who doesn't follow the rules."

     "Mhm, so it's his rule-breaking that bothers you?"

     "He thinks he's a medic god. Like because he saves lives, he can do what he wants."

     "From what I heard, he is some kind of medic god. He's thrown a scope—"

     "In the dark. I know. I've heard it. The situation goes one of two ways, though — he nails it, or he tears through someone's cords, and they drown in their blood. I've seen it happen with much more experienced medics."

     "I forgot you're dual, too. Maybe I should get my EMT. Sounds like working with Decker would be fun."

     "Yeah, if you enjoy being shot to death."

     Mac flinches. "You gotta stop saying shit like that. It's way too soon. But also it's a cheap shot."

     Shepherd knows he's right. He's not sure why he keeps bringing it up. And he feels bad about it. He just can't really wrap his brain around how a call goes that wrong. Still, he's sure Beau's hurting enough without him adding insult to injury.

     "Why don't you try being nice to the guy? He seems pretty chill."

     "I'm not not nice to the guy."

     "He socked you in the face for good reason s'all I'm saying." Mac laughs and goes, "However shitty a punch it was."

     Shepherd laughs, too. "It was really fucking terrible."

     "Yeah, dude can scope a guy, maybe, but he definitely can't throw a punch."

     "He like regretted it before he even followed through."

     Mac is practically pissing himself laughing. "It was like oh shit what's my fist about to do."

     Mac is cracking himself up now. "Like a punch moving in reverse."

     He starts coughing and wheezing, slapping at his chest. Shepherd's laughing too, but it dies off, and he checks his watch without thinking. Mac rolls his eyes and goes, "They get back when they get back."

     He's right, Shepherd knows. He'll drive himself crazy waiting on them. But he's a little concerned about having someone who is brand new and someone who hasn't ridden with their station out on their first call, an ALS call, with little to no updates.

     He needs to sidetrack himself so he ducks out of his office, changes his clothes, and goes to their gym. They don't have mandated exercise hours but they do have health and wellness policies that ensure they remain physically fit for duty.

     It's not a problem for Shepherd, who turns the speaker on in the room to his classic rock playlist, warms up, and then gloves up, taking his frustration out on the punching bag dangling from the ceiling.

     He loses track of himself like this, stepping so far out of his head, he doesn't hear Beau until he's standing on the other side of the punching bag and nearly gets knocked over as he grabs it and holds it still. Shepherd jolts with surprise.

     "Are you ignoring me?" Beau snaps.

     Shepherd wishes he could ignore Beau.

     But he can barely ignore the sensory overload after snapping back into place, like his body just returned to his body. He's suddenly so aware of the sweat dripping down his neck and that his knuckles are tingling from all the impact.

     He takes a deep breath as he pulls his damp gloves off and drops them on the mat. "Sorry," he says. "What were you saying?"

     Beau still looks a bit heated, and disbelieving. He says simply, "JT's new."

     Shepherd opens and closes his mouth, wondering if he's still a little out of it. He needs some water. He makes his way over to the water cooler as he says, "Uh, yes, he is new."

     "No," Beau insists. "Like new new. He has no experience. Whatsoever. I just taught him how to drive."

     Beau finishes the plastic cup in one gulp, tries not to cough as he goes, surprised, "Wait what? He's never volunteered anywhere?"

     "Negative."

     Shep rolls his head, groaning. "Jesus. Was the call bad?"

     "Not really. He's a little clueless, but he takes direction well. But he needs to be a third, at least for a couple shifts."

     "I agree."

     Beau balks, taking a half-step back. "You agree?"

     Shepherd nods. "I'll ride with you both this shift."

     He watches him quirk his head and wonders if he's imagining the color in his cheeks. It's warm in the gym, so maybe it's that. "You will?"

     "Yeah, I've got my BLS."

     "Oh, you do?"

     "Would you like to be surprised by anything else?"

     Beau quirks an eyebrow and his tone is different, deeper, when he says, "I don't know, what other secrets are you hiding?"

     He doesn't want to grin, especially because it's Beau and they are not friends, just co-workers, so he bites his lip, fighting it, as he says, "None I'm prepared to share with you."

     Beau apparently doesn't have the same qualms, smiling at him in a way that is all warning. "Maybe not now," he says, stepping up to Shepherd. He's kind of amazed how someone so small can size him up. "But you will."

     "You think I'm going to warm to you, Decker?"

     Shep's eyes drop to Beau's mouth where he's licking his lips, eyes skyward like he's thinking. "Oh, I know you're going to warm to me," he says slowly, something of a drawl. "But we'll see what else."

     He leaves it at that, stepping around Shepherd and ducking out the door without waiting for a response—not that Shepherd really has one for him.

     It's a just-worked-out thing that he's hard. Not unusual at all. Definitely nothing for him to worry about.

❧

     They have something of a miracle night.

     Beau's not about to use the trigger words, even if he's thinking about it when he wakes at five for a medical. Because he wakes absolutely rested, having turned in the night before at eleven. Which was on the later side only because the guys insisted they play poker after dinner — a dinner, he might add, that Shepherd had cooked.

     When he asked about it, how they managed meals, the response was that they don't and Shepherd does. Beau had made a comment, something or another, that ended with house mom. It earned him a lethal look across the table.

     Mac found it funny, though.

     So Shepherd did the cooking, they rotated on dish duty, and put in money for groceries. It was a sweeter deal than what Beau had at Station Three, where they rotated responsibility. They also didn't really do games after dinner, all of them finding their own spot to sulk in. Jimmy and Beau generally watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine in the evenings after Jimmy put a pot of coffee on.

     Beau didn't mind being a medic on the truck, even if they did run more calls, especially on shifts like this. He only works half his shift as a medic and the other half as fire. He was trying to figure out who the other medic was in the building, but it turned out none of them were. Tony and Eli were both BLS, like Shepherd.

     Which meant the next medic unit was coming from Station One. Even if Beau wanted to run as a medic unit through his whole shift, which he didn't, he wouldn't be allowed to. The odds of running fire calls back to back for forty-eight hours was slim, where as medicals for forty-eight hours straight would be unusual but not unheard of.

     All that is to say, when the light in his room flashes blue, dim at first and brightening gradually, he wakes easily. Doesn't need his phone to ring next to fully rouse him from sleep.

     He rolls himself out of bed in the blue hazy darkness, pulls his 5/11s over his briefs, tucks his shirt in, slips his feet into the wrong boots, leans against the wall to switch feet, shoves his phone into one of the pockets, and his radio into his pants before he darts out of his bedroom door.

     Right into Shepherd. Shit.

     "Shit."

     He reacts in earnest, having forgotten Shepherd's room was across from his. Honestly, forgetting he was in Station Two. Shepherd has bedhead, and his beard is scruffier, definitely not passing regulation for their respirators. He smells regrettably enticing.

     His eyes drag down Beau's body inconspicuously before he says, "You forgot your belt."

     Confused because he definitely didn't take his belt out of his pants, he looks down, and it's not that he forgot to put it on, but forgot to buckle it. He flushes, but he's sure it isn't noticeable. The only lights on in the hallway are the ones hovering over the exits.

     "That's almost twice you caught me with my pants down," he says cheekily as he buckles his pants back up.

     Shepherd leans down towards him. "Twice too many."

     So Beau leans up, leaving little space between them, and goes with a wink, "Never got complaints about the show before."

❧

     Shepherd's not sure what's going on, but he gets the sense that Beau? He's fucking with him. Which has Shepherd fuming. Because whatever Beau thinks he knows, he's wrong. And whatever game he's playing, Shepherd wants no part in.

     He watches him strut away, leaving space between them, before he follows down the hall towards the stairs. It's not following exactly. They're both just going to the same place. The ambulance. Where JT is not.

     "Did he even wake up?" Shepherd asks stupidly. Obviously, he didn't.

     Beau shrugs. "Probably not, but it's been long enough they're going to roll out another page. Maybe that'll do it."

     Shepherd throws his head back, groaning. "Let's just go. It'll take too long to get him down here."

     Beau shrugs like it means nothing to him, strolling towards the ambulance. The driver's side. Shepherd catches up easily, his stride longer, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a halt. "I'll drive," he says, getting in front of him.

     Beau rolls his eyes. "Of course you will, Captain."

     "Oh, there's that respect for authority I love so much about you," Shepherd shoots back.

     Beau grins. "All I heard was you love me."

     "You being hearing impaired makes a lot of sense," Shepherd shoots back, getting into the truck. He doesn't hear Beau's remark as he walks around to the passenger side but he's fairly certain there's a fuck in it.

     He's a little high-energy for this early in the morning.

     Shepherd opens the bay, hits the lights, and pulls out, closing the doors behind him. Beau's taken the tablet and started the chart so Shepherd can't see the address. "Where are we going?" he asks, pulling out onto the street.

     Beau reads off the address and then goes, "For the syncope."

     Shepherd hums. "Mm, grandma fell out of bed."

     "Probably," Beau grumbles, tapping away at the screen. That's all he gets, and that's fine. He doesn't need to talk the whole way there. Beau sits forward, turning the radio up, and then he's absolutely jamming out to Sweet Child O' Mine.

     Shepherd's so surprised he nearly misses their turn and forks hard, throwing Beau his way. "Hey, watch it, precious goods."

     He scoffs. He hardly jostled him.

     Beau points across him, arm pressing into his chest. "42's right there."

     It's a little house nestled behind a big weeping willow with not a single light on. "How the fuck did you see that?"

     "Been here before, actually," he says, hopping out of the truck. Shepherd gets out, too, grabs the stairchair from the side cabinet in case they end up transporting and meets Beau on the sidewalk. He has his bag on one shoulder and the monitor on the other, clutching the tablet with his two fingers.

     Shepherd gestures to the monitor and says, "Gimme that," but doesn't wait, taking it. He's surprised Beau lets it go, in all honesty. He's searching the patient in EMS Charts, not paying attention, though.

     "Yeah, I was right. This is Mabel. She probably set off her life alert again."

     Shepherd frowns. "She lives alone?"

     Beau nods. "Yeah. She's fairly sharp. No medical history."

     They get to the front door, and Shepherd goes for the doorbell while Beau goes to knock, before trying to the door knob. It's unlocked. He pushes the door open a crack and calls out, "Ms. Kingston?"

     "Who's that?" comes a voice back.

     "My name's Beau. I'm a medic. The police called for us."

     "I didn't call for no medics!" she screams back, from where Shepherd's not sure.

     He pokes his head in over the top of Beau's and asks, "Do you mind if we come in?"

     "Who's we?"

     "Me and my partner, mam."

     "Get outta my house," she cries back. Shepherd steps back, taking that for a cancel. Beau shrugs with a laugh as he closes her door.

     "I don't remember her being that spunky," he says.

     "Would've been nice if PD deigned to come out," Shepherd mutters as he takes their stuff back to the truck. He gets into the truck before Beau and waits for him. When Beau jumps in, Shepherd's nailed with his scent, like being pinned down to his seat and waterboarded with it. It's a bit shocking how much he can smell him, crisp and clean. Maybe his deodorant or body wash, he's not sure.

     Shepherd turns the lights off and starts driving. It's nearing six now, and the sun's just about up, lighting up the town in a soft orange hue. "Mind if we stop at the farmer's market?" he asks.

     Beau turns to look at him. "If I say yes, is that going to stop you?"

     He hesitates, surprised. Asking is a courtesy, but usually, when you're on the truck with someone, you just accept you're being dragged where they need to go. Before he responds, Beau says, "Sure, Captain. Whatever you want, Captain. You're the boss, Captain."

     Shepherd nods and goes, "So this is how it's going to be for the next year?"

     Beau shifts, but his focus is on the tablet as he fills out their chart. "Shouldn't be that long, actually. According to you, I'll probably end up getting myself killed on a call fairly soon."

     His comment makes Shepherd tense, and he grinds his jaw, fighting back a response. When Beau says it like that, it sounds like Shepherd's counting on it, and he isn't. He wants Beau to grow up. To start taking the life-threat portion of their job seriously.

     "You were close with Jimmy, I take it?" he asks instead, somehow managing to reign in his annoyance.

     "Well, he was my partner for the last three years."

     "That's not exactly an answer, but I'm going to guess that means yes, you were." Beau doesn't respond, but his body's gone tense. He's shifted his gaze out the window. "We're close like that, everyone back in the station. We're not all direct partners, like you and Jimmy were, but we're all close. We all care about each other. And with the way things are going, you're going to be apart of that soon. They're going to care about you, too. You'll matter to them, so what you do matters."

     Shepherd isn't sure why he says it, what he expects to get out of it. And when Beau doesn't immediately respond, he thinks he's actually going to get nothing. He pulls into the parking lot behind the park, where tents have been set up for the farmer's market. He waits patiently to see if Beau will say anything.

     "Just them?" he asks finally. "Not you?"

     "Everyone matters to me already," he says simply. "That's what it means to be the Captain."

     "Sounds exhausting."

     Shepherd grimaces. He doesn't think so. It's his responsibility. One his father once had and lost his life honoring. He was doing what he was meant to as a Shepherd. And people like Beau made it all the more dangerous. Because if Beau runs into a collapsing building, it's Shepherd who's supposed to make sure no one else follows him.

     It's Shepherd who's supposed to bring him back.

❧

     Beau watches Shepherd curiously as they walk down their third aisle, perusing the stands of fresh fruit and veggies. Shepherd picks things up, squeezes them, and sniffs them, like he does this regularly. Which Beau would be apt to believe.

     After watching him for too long, in the morning glow, looking like a bronzed cherub, Beau can't take it anymore and asks, "Why do you do all the cooking?"

     He shrugs as he manhandles some mangos, picking out each one specifically. "Because I'm good at it."

     Beau yawns. "You're alright."

     Lie. Total lie. Last night's dinner of steak quesadillas? Phenomenal. Steak was tender as fuck, full of flavor. And when he'd popped his head outside to look at the patio and caught Shepherd at the Blackstone, he had to admit — he looked good. But then, Beau reasoned, anyone would look good with a sheen of sweat, in a tight-fitting shirt, leaning over a hot grill, looking like they know exactly what they're doing. That was not exclusive to Shepherd.

     "Eli gets too distracted. Managed to evaporate a whole pot of water and scorch the bottom of a stainless steel pot. A fucking feat." Shepherd shakes his head, laughing a little. Beau feels a strange jolt of jealousy — that he has these memories, that Beau doesn't, that the one person Beau would have these memories with is gone.

     He continues, "And Mac's just terrible at cooking, thinks everything calls for every spice like it's an art project. So I cook out of necessity." He turns his gaze to Beau's and it makes him nervous for some stupid reason that he can't figure out. Probably because he's not used to looking at him. "Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

     Problem with it? Not exactly. Beau could get used to it. And he likes it, having home-cooked meals at work. Makes it feel like this thing isn't a job but a family. Which it isn't.

     So he pivots, picking up a head of butter lettuce, tossing it between his hands as he asks, "So you prefer the farmer's market?"

     Shepherd nods, snatching the lettuce out of his hands and putting it back. "My dad always said produce was better when it was in season and grown locally." He turns his back to Beau, moving down the stands.

     Beau's probably about to put his foot in it, but he puts his foot in it anyway. "Your dad was the old Chief, wasn't he?"

     Shepherd nods as he holds up a peach, like he's going to peer through it to guesstimate its level of juiciness, and says, "Yeah, he died in the line of duty when I was seventeen."

     Did Beau know that? Probably. He thinks he heard it somewhere. The former Chief's photo is on the wall in every firehouse. People don't really talk about it, probably because it was over a decade ago.

     Beau clears his throat and is unsure what to say, so all he says is, "Oh?" Not sure if he's prompting Shepherd for more detail or digging his heels in it. The moment feels tenuous, marked even more delicate by the hardened stance Shepherd's taken and how he's dropped the peaches and is just staring at them.

     But then he turns and looks at Beau, his eyes big and watery blue. Not teary, exactly, but the precursor to it. And he says, his voice low and gritty, "He died going back for me. Because I was young and stupid, fucking around and not where I was supposed to be."

     Yep, Beau has definitely stepped in it. He'd like to run now, but he's stuck. Shepherd's got him pinned with that expression, so fucking haunted and earnest.

     And then he says so clearly it hurts, "So when I get on your case about following protocol, it's not because I'm trying to be a controlling ass. It's because I understand what happens when you don't."