Baseline

Click, click, click.

The lighter sparks twice before the flame catches.

Its small glow bathes Rosie's pale face in warm light. She cups a hand around it, lights her cigarette, and takes the first long drag.

Nothing else. Just one brief moment of peace.

She leans back on the bench beside the ambulance bay, cigarette between two fingers, coffee next to her, while the late-March sun hangs low over Acorn Mills.

It's unusually warm for this time of year. Warm enough to sit outside before shift without freezing your ass off.

Rosie tips her head back and breathes out a cloud of smoke as she looks up into the evening sky.

The sky above her is still bright.

She lifts the coffee to her lips. Finally, a nice warm cup-

"Ah, fuck. Hot."

She jerks the cup away and grimaces.

Great

A dry, slightly burnt taste lingers on her tongue.

Rosie sighs, sets the coffee down beside her, and takes another drag of her cigarette instead.

As the sun sinks lower behind the trees, everything is quiet again for a moment.

Then headlights round the corner at the far end of the street.

Rosie squints as they ruin what had been pleasantly soft evening light.

She recognizes the dark gray Jeep before it even slows to turn into the parking lot across the street.

The driver's door swings open when a brown leather boot kicks it from the inside, followed by its owner.

A man gets out, a cigarette between his lips. Short dark-brown hair completely disheveled, like he simply couldn't care less.

Rosie has to suppress a grin.

As he slings his backpack over one broad shoulder, his gaze goes straight over to the bench beside the ambulance bay.

Their eyes meet. The corner of his mouth twitches upward.

Rosie takes another drag and raises her middle finger.

He does the same.

They both grin before he turns and heads for the entrance with purposeful strides.

Before he disappears through the door, he tosses the cigarette over his shoulder.

The Jeep flashes twice, then he's gone.

Her gaze lingers on the door for another moment as she brings her cigarette back to her lips.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

Someone comes sprinting up the street toward the station, panting, his bag thumping against his side.

Rosie glances at her watch.

"Benjamin. It's almost six fifty-five."

"I know."

"Go get changed."

"Yep!"

Rosie stubs out her cigarette, grabs her coffee, and gets to her feet as Ben runs past her into the ambulance bay.

She follows him.

"I'll start the check."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ben is already halfway up the stairs. He takes the last few two at a time and yanks the door open at the top so hard it bangs against the railing.

"Hey!" someone calls from inside.

"Sorry!"

Rosie drains the now-lukewarm coffee. The burnt spot on her tongue makes it taste like ash. She opens the side door and climbs into the patient compartment, making the familiar reach to the left.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The LIFEPAK wakes up with its usual three-tone greeting.

That sound is going to follow her to the grave.

While the LP boots up, she checks the onboard oxygen. Enters the reading into the tablet.

Then the portable O2 cylinder. Another note in the log.

Beep. Beep. The monitor chimes again.

Self-test passed. One battery flashes red.

Of course.

She's already halfway through the first-in bag when heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs, followed by a "Whoops!" as her partner slips on the bottom step.

Ben throws his bag onto the passenger seat, then appears at the side door, panting.

"Where are we at?" He hooks his stethoscope around his neck and plants both hands on his hips.

"Onboard oxygen's at eighteen hundred. Portable's at sixteen fifty. LIFEPAK's checked. Swapped the battery. Can you grab a charged one from supply?"

"Sure."

He darts off and comes back a moment later with a full one.

"What else?"

Rosie looks up at him.

"What do you mean, what else? Dude, you were almost late, and-"

She stops.

Ben grins at her.

"Fucker."

He opens a cabinet.

"I'm really sorry. First my hair wouldn't cooperate, then I lost my keys, and then I missed the bus. Had to run to another stop, and-"

"I swear to God, I'm going to staple your fucking keys to your forehead." Rosie takes another look at his hair. "Looks good, though."

"Yeah?"

He pauses to pose.

"Yeah ... And could you please start contributing now?"

"Can I put some music on first?" He awkwardly digs his phone out of his pocket and, after a quick search, taps play.

Rosie rolls her eyes.

"I'm not listening to this shit during the check."

"Come on. I need to come back into life first. Kickstart my brain."

"I'm about to kickstart your death if I have to listen to hardcore EDM right now."

"Pretty bitchy today. Weren't you at Theo's this afternoon?"

Rosie throws a cold pack at him. It hits Ben square in the forehead and drops to the floor.

Ben looks down.

Rosie clicks her tongue.

"Great. Now you have to get a new one."

"Why me?"

"You activated it."

"Bye, Hunter. Evans," someone calls through the bay.

"Stevens." Ben picks the cold pack back up. "I'd say it was nice seeing you, but, well ..."

He turns back to the open cabinet and puts it back where it belongs.

"Lazy bastard. He was asleep on the couch ten minutes ago. It's what? Seven? How unmotivated can you be?"

"Had to scrape Warden's lunch and I think his dinner out of the driver's seat before I could even put my stuff down. Crumbs everywhere. Disgusting." Rosie pulls a face at the memory.

"Sounds delicious." Ben opens the next cabinet.

"Ben."

"Hmm?"

"Music."

"Oh." He fumbles his phone back out and starts a playlist they can both agree on.

With the music playing between them, they work their way through the rest of the equipment.

"Ugh."

Ben pulls on a glove and fishes out a pair of used gloves with what looks like crumpled tissues stuffed inside them.

"I hope that's ketchup. Maybe I'll shove the whole thing in his fucking locker."

Gagging, he throws it in the trash, followed by his disposable gloves.

"So. Done?"

"Hold on."

Rosie enters a few last notes into the tablet, grabs her empty coffee mug, and heads for the stairs.

"Do you know who's riding with Jeff tonight?"

"Nope. But Fire's here. At least we'll get something decent to eat."

"Oh, yeah!" Ben follows her upstairs and they step into the lounge. "Do you know what he's cooking?"

"Beef Stroganoff!" someone calls from the kitchen.

"Louis, my man!" Ben follows his nose to the hot skillet on the stove.

Smack!

A wooden spoon lands across the back of his hand when he tries to sneak a taste.

"Dinner's at seven-thirty."

He looks down at the small but sturdy firefighter - and his weapon of choice - as though weighing his odds.

"Dude. That's in, I don't know, eight minutes."

"Dinner's at seven-thirty," Louis repeats.

Rosie grins at the exchange and turns to the coffee machine.

"Oh, come on. Who took the last coffee?"

"No idea."

Another firefighter hides his face behind his mug.

"Chase. Refill the water when you empty it."

She shoots him a dirty look, fills the tank, and slides it back into place.

Beep. Beep.

"What now?"

Louis leans over to look at the display.

"Beans are empty."

He opens a cabinet and hands her the container.

"Chase!" She throws a few beans at him.

He ducks. "What?!"

Ben is still rubbing the back of his hand.

"Machine must be sensing your dark aura today."

"Careful, my friend, or I'll ask Louis to smack the other hand too."

From the recliner next door, a rough voice calls over to Chase, "How about you try following basic social rules while you're squatting at our station."

"At least we cook for everyone."

"Louis cooks. You're tolerated."

"Aw, thanks."

Rosie and Ben sit down with him at the big table and set a few plates in the middle.

"Who're you riding with tonight, Jeff?" Rosie calls to the gray-haired paramedic in front of the enormous flat-screen.

"Foster. A float."

"And who's he relieving?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"Doesn't sound promising."

Ben takes a cautious sip of his coffee and grimaces. "Ugh, shit, forgot milk."

"Food's ready!"

Jeff groans as he hauls himself out of the recliner and drops into the seat across from Ben. Louis sets the food between them and slides the milk over beside Ben's coffee.

"Dig in, people."

Apparently nobody here needs to be told twice.

Four hands reach for the serving spoon at once.

"Hey."

"I had it first."

"No, you didn't."

Someone pulls the bowl closer. Someone else immediately pulls it back.

Louis watches the whole thing, then disappears into the kitchen again. He returns with his own full plate and sits down with the group.

"Where's June?"

"Next door at Fire. Said something about paperwork." Chase reaches for the spoon again.

"I'll text her that dinner's ready," Louis adds.

"And what about your-"

"Smells amazing!"

A burly guy stomps into the lounge, rubbing his hands together with a grin.

Ah, shit.

Rosie looks to her right.

Ben's fork stops halfway to his mouth.

"Evans. Good to see you." The newcomer grabs an empty plate. "Recovered from the shock yet?"

"Miller." Ben's face darkens. "I still don't understand why the chief wants you educating other people. With your brain, I'm impressed you can breathe on your own."

"Hah. Clever."

Miller helps himself to the food.

Ben watches him load his plate. Jaw clenched.

Then he puts the fork in his mouth.

The station tones drop.

"Ambulance One, Greenhill Nursing Home. Fall, elderly female."

For a second, they just stare at each other, as if whoever moves first somehow has to take the call.

"Don't look at me. That's your alarm," Jeff reminds them.

"But food!"

"I had cold dinners for thirty years. Your turn."

Miller grins at Ben over the rim of his plate while Rosie is already heading out.

Ben shoves in one last bite, knocks back his still-black coffee, and contorts his face. Then he follows Rosie out the door.

"That asshole," he mutters as they jog down the stairs. "He doesn't even deserve Louis's fine cuisine."

Then he slams the passenger door considerably harder than necessary.

"He's a stupid idiot!"

"Done?"

Ben looks at her.

"No."

Rosie starts the engine.

"Where did Warden put the thing?" Ben searches for the bay-door remote.

She points to the far corner of the dashboard.

"Why?"

The door rolls up as he turns the onboard computer toward himself.

"Eighty-four-year-old female, fall at-"

"Greenhill. I know."

Rosie shifts into gear.

They pull out of the station, past the firehouse and the police department. Rosie switches on their lights, taps the horn, and lets the siren wail twice.

A little hello to the neighborhood.

"Ambulance One is on for Greenhill."

"Received, Ambulance One en route."

"Any further information?"

"Negative."

The streets are surprisingly empty for a Tuesday evening. Passing house fronts throw back flashes of blue and red as they weave through what remains of the evening traffic.

"Sometimes I have to remind myself this is technically a town."

"Well, everyone else is probably enjoying dinner right now while we get to scrape Grandma off the floor."

"Benjamin."

"What? It's true."

"Should've picked a different career."

Ben pulls a sour face.

"Maybe I should've become a personal trainer. Spend all day surrounded by sweaty hot men."

"They wouldn't have trusted you with anything past the front desk."

"How dare you! For your information, I engage in physical exercise with remarkable regularity. I'm going spinning tomorrow afternoon."

"Seriously? But ... are you actually interested in spinning? Or is there another reason?"

"Don't know what you mean. I'm exclusively working on my fantastic behind."

"Uh-huh. And how's Mitch?"

"The very professional spinning instructor is very professional." Ben pauses. "And holy macaroni, during class he looks like he rode straight out of Men's Health."

"How do you know that? You've never been to spinning."

"I can watch while I'm on the stairs."

"You stand on the stairs and just stare at him from there?"

"Not normal stairs. I'm not a creep. One of those stair things. It's like a treadmill, but with steps. Like climbing stairs in one place."

"Right. And from there you watch the whole thing? So why suddenly live spinning?"

"He caught me staring and then I had to pretend I was interested. So he wouldn't think I was some kind of stalker."

Rosie turns her head toward him.

"He caught you?"

"Yeah. Um, Rosie? Road."

"And now you're going spinning tomorrow?"

"Now I'm going spinning tomorrow."

They turn left into Greenhill. Rosie swings the ambulance around and backs up to the nursing home. Light spills through the large lobby windows onto the sidewalk, bathing the crocuses by the entrance in a warm glow.

Ben loads the stretcher with the first-in bag, monitor, and portable oxygen.

"Need gloves?" he asks before climbing out the back.

Rosie holds up her gloved hands and pulls out the stretcher.

Ben slams the rear doors shut with a loud bang.

"Well, maybe I'll actually like spinning. Maybe it'll-"

Rosie nearly walks face-first into the still-closed automatic doors.

Ben stops the stretcher before it can finish the job.

"Typical redhead. Door can't detect your soulless existence."

"Funny."

She presses the buzzer beside the door while Ben taps his foot.

Waiting. Tap, tap, tap. Rosie closes her eyes for a moment and breathes in sharply.

Still no answer.

She presses it again.

Ben groans. "They call us, and then nobody even waits at the door. Emergency, my ass."

The intercom crackles and hisses before someone speaks.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Ambulance."

"I'll buzz you in. Second floor."

The intercom crackles sharply once more, there's a click, and finally the doors open.

Warmth hits Rosie in the face as they step inside, followed by the familiar sharp smell of urine.

"Smells like UTI."

They cross the lobby toward the elevators.

"So you really think you're a spinning guy?"

"I mean, it's pretty efficient if you want a nice ass. Strong legs and all that."

"You have a spectacular ass."

They squeeze into the narrow elevator with the stretcher.

"And it still fits in here with us."

"Charming. Strong legs can also be very useful when you want to fu-"

The doors slide open on the second floor.

A sour-looking woman in scrubs is already waiting for them.

"Evening. Room 204. Mrs. Gillert fell on her way to the bathroom," the nurse tells them in an irritated tone, turns around, and starts down the hallway. Over her shoulder, she hands Ben a stack of papers.

"Did you or anyone else see her fall?"

"No. I was busy somewhere else."

"So nobody can tell us whether she lost consciousness?"

"No." She stops. "Here we are."

The nurse points toward an open door.

Even more heat hits them as they step inside. Ben's hands are full of paperwork and apparently he's also carrying the entire burden of responsibility. So Rosie has to haul the rest into the room while leaving the stretcher in the hallway.

"Has family been notified yet?" Rosie turns around, but the nurse is already gone.

Cool, thanks for nothing.

Ben is already with the patient. An elderly woman sits on the edge of a nursing bed wearing a pale-blue shirt with a few dried drops of blood near her right shoulder.

"Mrs. Gillet. How are you doing?"

"Gillert. Oh, my dear, I'm fine. It was only a fall."

"Mrs. Gillert," Ben corrects himself. "That cut on your forehead tells me a slightly different story."

"A cut?"

Rosie is already kneeling beside her and briefly rests a hand on her arm.

"Yeah. Hi, I'm Rosie. Just a small one. I'll take care of it." She gently presses a gauze pad to the wound to stop the slight bleeding and get a better look at it.

"So, Mrs. Gillert-" Ben continues.

"Just call me Lynn, dear."

"So, Lynn, I'm Ben, by the way. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes. I tried to get up from the table after dinner and tripped over something." She gestures vaguely at the floor behind him.

"So you didn't lose consciousness?"

"I don't think so. I just couldn't get back up by myself, so I called for help."

"Any pain in your neck or back?"

"No."

Rosie looks at her partner. "Do you want to take a look at the wound yourself before I dress it?"

Ben shakes his head. "I trust your judgment... Okay. Are you dizzy?"

"A little. But I suppose that's normal after hitting your head, isn't it?"

Ben pulls a penlight from the side pocket of his pants. "I'm going to check your pupils. It'll be bright for a second." He shines it first into one eye, then the other. "Can you describe the dizziness? Were you dizzy before you fell?"

"No. I wasn't dizzy before. Just a little now."

Ben nods and turns to Rosie.

"Pupils mid-size, equal and briskly reactive. No nystagmus."

"Pupils normal," Rosie repeats, entering the finding into the tablet before reaching for the monitor.

She lifts it onto the bed and hooks Lynn up. Pulse ox. Blood pressure. Three-lead ECG.

"No other injuries. No tongue bite," Ben reports as he continues his exam. "Any pain besides your head, Lynn?"

"No. But it's starting to hurt a little more now."

"Burning? Throbbing?"

"Throbbing. And now I can feel the cut on my forehead burning too."

She raises a hand toward the wound.

"Better not touch it." Rosie gently stops her.

They finish the rest of their assessment while the LIFEPAK continues beeping quietly in the background.

Finally, Ben looks through the paperwork the nurse handed him earlier. Rosie peers over his shoulder to read along.

Eliquis

"So ..." Ben begins. "I'd suggest you come with us to the hospital for a quick visit. They can take care of the wound and do a few more tests to make sure everything's okay."

Lynn draws her eyebrows together.

"Is that really necessary?"

Rosie crouches beside her again and gently puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Lynn, I know it's getting late, but the wound will probably need a few stitches. And we want to make sure you didn't injure anything else inside your head when you fell. Then you can go to bed later knowing everything's okay."

"All right. I'll come with you. So you don't have to worry about an old lady."

"That's very kind of you. Especially because you're on blood thinners. That puts you at a higher risk of bleeding." Rosie smiles at her.

"Oh, I know. Look. Bruises everywhere. I look terrible."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. They'll fade and then you'll look as good as new. Should we pack anything for the hospital?"

"Do you think I'll have to stay overnight?"

"Probably not. At least I hope not." Ben hurries to the door. "I'll get the stretcher ready."

"Oh, I can walk, dear."

Lynn is already starting to push herself up from the bed.

"I'm sure you can walk to the stretcher," Rosie says. "But with the dizziness, I'd rather we get you safely to the ambulance on it. Is that okay with you?"

"All right."

Lynn sits back down and waits while the two paramedics get everything ready.

"All set," Ben announces when he comes back.

"Are these your slippers?" Rosie asks, helping Lynn into them. "I've got your phone, the charger from the outlet, your cardigan, and the coat from the hook. Where can I find some clean clothes? Maybe we should pack another top for later. There's some blood on this one."

"Oh dear. I hadn't even noticed." Lynn looks down at herself. "Yes, wardrobe, right-hand door. Somewhere in the middle."

"Okay. I'll take a look, if that's all right."

"Of course, dear. Could you pack a comb and my toothbrush too?"

Rosie finds a small travel bag at the bottom of the wardrobe and packs everything into it, along with a clean top from the shelf and a few necessities from the bathroom.

"I think we're good to go." She holds up the little bag.

Ben glances toward the door. "Then let's see where your nurse is hiding so someone can notify your family."

Lynn gives him a mischievous smile. "Oh yes. That would be lovely."

He offers her an arm. "M'lady."

"Oh, such a gentleman."

"... and then she actually told me I had to take another number." Ben is just getting back up to operating temperature, tablet in one hand, coffee in the other.

"And? Did you take another number? Or did you leave?"

"I left. I have to go back eventually."

They wheel the stretcher back toward the ambulance. Rosie pulls, Ben walks beside her.

"You should just get it over with."

"I know. But ..." Ben shakes his head. "That woman is at the counter every single time I go there. Like I'm the target of her personal vendetta against humanity. She hates me."

"She doesn't even know you. Maybe you remind her of someone she hates. Maybe you look like one of her ex-boyfriends."

Rosie chuckles at the thought as she disinfects the gurney.

"Yeah. Maybe one of her high-school boyfriends. She's like fifty or something."

Ben finishes his report and taps the tablet harder and harder.

"The tablet didn't do anything to you."

"Whatever. New topic."

The automatic doors to the emergency department slide open.

A young woman in a white coat strolls toward them, a few strands of hair having escaped her loose bun and drifting in the light night breeze.

"You forgot your BP cuff."

"Oh. Thanks, Nora."

The doctor tiredly pulls a cigarette from a pack, wedges it between her lips, then holds the pack out to Rosie.

"Thanks."

"Need a light?"

"Yeah. Mine's up front in the rig."

Nora lights Rosie's cigarette first, then her own.

For a moment, neither of them says anything. They just smoke.

Rosie blows a large cloud into the cool air when Nora breaks the silence.

"Busy night?"

"No idea. That was our first call."

"We're getting slammed. Can't wait to have one completely free day away from this madness. But the old lady was sweet."

Rosie smiles. "Yeah. She slipped us five dollars on the way out."

Nora grins. "Of course she did."

"Told her she didn't need to, then she stuffed the bill into my pocket and patted it. 'For the coffee fund.'"

Ben joins the two women.

"You know smoking is bad for your health."

Both of them turn and stare at him.

Before either can answer, the sliding doors open again.

"Dr. Kent? The mother of the boy with the broken leg. She's complaining about the wait again."

"Jesus Christ."

Nora takes one last long drag, stubs out her cigarette, and tosses it into the trash can by the entrance. Break over.

"See you later."

"Hopefully not," Ben mutters into his coffee.

He looks at Rosie, who is still leisurely smoking her cigarette.

"Done?"

"It'll go faster if you load the stretcher yourself. I'm almost done."

A few minutes later, they climb back into the ambulance.

"You don't seriously think that was our only call tonight, do you?" Rosie asks as she starts the engine.

Ben picks up the radio.

"Ambulance One, clear Mills General."

"Ambulance One, clear."

They leave the hospital grounds and head back toward the station.

There had already been little traffic before. Now it's practically nonexistent. The town lies quiet in the dark while most people are probably home with the people they love.

Or their pets.

Or whatever gets them through the night.

"If Miller ate my Stroganoff, I swear to God, I'm going to kill him in his sleep."

"Maybe I'll help you."

"How would we do it? We can't get caught. They'd probably put us in different prisons, and I might miss you. And Mitch."

"Hmm." Rosie thinks about it. "Maybe insulin? Is he diabetic?"

"Where's my food?"

Ben storms into the lounge, past Chase and Louis, straight into the kitchen.

"Put it in the fridge. Two minutes in the microwave, stir it, then another minute and a half. Should be good."

"Thanks, Lou. Like I said earlier. My man!" Ben winks and shoots a finger gun at Louis.

"The second plate is Rosie's."

"Yep. Same procedure?"

"It's the same food. So yeah ... obviously."

"You don't have to yell at me. That was a perfectly normal question."

"I didn't even ... You ..." Louis starts, then quickly gives up trying to defend himself.

"Apology accepted."

Ben is just about to swap the plates when the door to the ambulance bay opens again.

"Thanks for your generous help, Benjamin."

Rosie storms in, puts her mug under the coffee machine, and presses the button.

This time the grinder starts screeching immediately.

Finally. A good sign.

"Made you food," Ben says. "When it beeps, stir it, then another minute."

He carries his Stroganoff over to the table where the two firefighters are playing cards.

"Ahh. Finally."

A woman in a firefighter uniform joins Rosie in the kitchen.

"Hey, how's it going? Could you make me one too?" She holds out her empty coffee mug.

"Hey. Sure." Rosie takes it from her. "Tired?"

"Yeah. Up to my ass in paperwork, and on top of that I still have forms to fill out for Milly's kindergarten enrollment. Couldn't get five minutes of peace over at Fire. Your office is so nice and empty and quiet."

"I think the office is usually the only quiet room in here. Still doesn't sound fun, though."

Rosie hands the mug back, and they leave the kitchen in opposite directions.

"What are you playing?" Rosie sits down beside Louis and takes a quick look at his cards.

"Crazy Eights."

He puts another card on the pile in the middle of the table.

Chase furrows his brow in intense concentration.

He takes a card from his hand, studies it, puts it back, then picks another. He stares at it for a moment before finally playing it.

Louis responds almost immediately with his next move.

"Do you think the jack is the king and queen's son?"

Ben looks up from his plate.

"Which jack?"

"Jack of hearts. Jack of spades. You know." Chase turns one of the cards around. "Jack."

Ben stares at Chase in disbelief.

"Do you think the other jacks are jealous of the jack of diamonds?" Chase continues. "Maybe diamonds are the richest family. But then what do the numbers mean?"

"Why?"

"Diamonds. They're expensive."

"I expected nothing and I'm still speechless," Ben mutters around a mouthful of food.

Rosie just keeps eating, completely unfazed.

"What?" Chase looks around the table. "You've never wondered about that?"

"No." Louis plays his next card. "How was your call?"

"A sweet old lady fell on her way to the bathroom. Nothing special."

"Your job is so exciting."

Ben raises his middle finger.

MEEEEEP.

"Ambulance One-"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!"