Well, at least he had escaped the perils of the backboard, Bell thought as he
lay on the exam bed in Trauma 2. Although, he wasn’t entirely sure if he had
escaped Wick’s effort with the I.V. needle…he rubbed his arm, the ride to the
hospital only a vague and strangely sore memory. He blinked and shook his
head, feeling fuzzy on the details.
Fiddling with the oxygen mask over his face, Bell was surprised by the prompt
and painful slap to his hand.
"Don’t touch that."
Ryan. Where had she come from? Bell gave her a wary smile, not sure if she
had stopped being super-medic or if she was going to yell at him some more.
Now, that he could remember…riding with her in the R.A. had not been a
pleasant experience.
"And don’t give me that smile. I don’t appreciate it when victims," she poked
him hard in the chest, "question my judgment as a medic." She poked him
again. "You should have been on a backboard, you probably have a concussion,
and you could have had a fractured skull or worse yet, you could have had an
epidural hematoma or internal bleeding – don’t talk," Bell quickly shut his
mouth, "and a backboard is standard procedure…you of all people should know
that! I don’t know where you get off thinking it’s okay for you to get up and
try to walk to the rig, like nothing happened. What kind of example is that?
I know the backboard is uncomfortable as hell, but do you know how hard it’s
gonna be to get Bridges or Manetti or Sanchez or…or any of the others on it
when they get hurt now? Do you?"
Meek and scared by the angry look on her face, Bell shook his head.
Ryan glared at him. "It’ll be next to impossible, that’s what it’ll be!"
Bell winced a little, hoping she was almost finished. Ryan’s face relaxed as
she crossed her arms in front of her. "Besides," she said, "you really scared
me."
Watching Ryan carefully, Bell debated whether it was safe to talk to her. He
took a shallow breath, and moved his hand back to the oxygen mask, pushing it
down a little. "I’m sorry," he apologized, his voice hoarse, "you’re
absolutely right."
Ryan rolled her eyes. "Oh, cut the bull, like I’m really gonna fall for that,
Bell."
The door to the room swung open, and Bell blinked at the sudden influx of
light. "All right, you’ll be happy to know that your CAT scan and c-spine
were clear. You’ve just got some smoke inhalation and a concussion."
Bell breathed a grateful sigh of relief. Saved by the doctor. Shifting to
lean on his elbows, he sat up, letting the oxygen mask drop to his chest. "So
can I go?"
The doctor, a young resident, smiled. "Well, that’s a good question…where are
you going to go? I mean," she looked at the chart, "I really think it would
be best if someone was with you for the rest of the day and night, you know,
wake you up every couple of hours, make sure your head doesn’t fall off…that
kind of thing."
Bell shook his head and started to remove the oxygen mask, his hands getting
tangled in the tubing. "I’m fine." With a grimace, he pulled his hand out and
set the mask on the bed. "I want to finish my shift."
The doctor looked up, chagrined. "I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…"
Ryan nodded her head. "Me, neither." What was he trying to prove? Ryan took a
breath and softened her voice. "You got knocked out pretty good there, Bell-"
Bell shrugged. "Well, if I go home, I’ll be all alone, and who’ll know if my
head falls off?" He slid off the bed and hoped he didn’t end up on the floor.
Testing his legs, he lightly pushed away Ryan’s supporting hands. He nodded
to himself…just walk straight, walk straight, Bell.
The doctor sighed. "Okay, if I let you go back on duty, then that’s it. I
don’t want to see you back in here tomorrow, two steps from a coma, holding
your head in your hands, got it?"
Bell nodded. "Yeah, yeah…I told you, I’m fine." Rolling his shoulders, he
started to walk out the door.
The doctor shook her head and turned to Ryan. "You know what to do, right?
Check him every two hours, Tylenol’s okay for the pain, and if he gets
confused, irritable…well, beyond the usual, I guess…if you can’t wake him up,
or if he starts seeing double, then get him back here ASAP, okay?"
Ryan nodded and smiled. "I got it…and thanks."
***
"So you’re okay?"
Bell nodded again, trying not to snap at Wick. Taking a breath, he responded
with his usual calm as he filled out the paperwork. "Yes, perfectly fine." He
knocked his head with his hand. "See? Fine."
Tapping his fingers on the counter, Wick nodded back and swallowed.
"Well…that’s good. I mean, I wasn’t worried or anything," he tapped his
fingers in annoyance as Bell paid no attention to him, "okay, that’s a lie, I
practically freaked…you’re lyin’ on the ground, tryin’ to cough up a lung or
whatever-"
"Okay, I catch your drift, Wick! But I’m fine!" Bell shook his head and
walked away to turn in the incident report.
Wick’s mouth dropped open. He thought…he hadn’t realized Bell was listening
to him. He lowered his head to the counter, and closed his eyes. It wasn’t
enough that he had acted like some frantic fool, dragging every available
piece of equipment out of the R.A. and then had to clean it up again, wasn’t
enough that he had almost ripped Bell’s arm open with the I.V. needle on the
ride over here – it was a good thing that Bell had been busy being yelled at
by Ryan, or else he might have gotten angry about that - but then…then, after
all that, he had to go and admit it to Bell? Smooth, Wick, he thought to
himself, very smooth, gonna be earning everyone’s respect real soon…
"What’s wrong?"
Wick picked his head up. He hadn’t seen Ryan approach. "Nothin’, I just
opened my mouth again."
Ryan smiled. "Oh, well, don’t worry, I’m sure that’ll stop soon." Her smile
faded as she looked around, worried. "Where’s Bell?"
Wick looked at her, his eyes mirroring her concern. "I think he went to the
Admit office…is he okay?"
Ryan shrugged and sighed. "Yeah…yeah, his tests came back clear. We’re gonna
need to keep an eye on him for the rest of the shift, though." Straightening
her shoulders, she narrowed her eyes. "Quiz, probie…list the symptoms of
post-concussion syndrome."
***
Bell bit his lip, lagging behind Ryan and Wick as they walked through the
ambulance bay to the rig. Absently, his hand went to his pocket, feeling for
the keys, and he was startled when he couldn’t find them. Stupid, Bell, he
thought, how’d they get you over here if you had the keys? Someone must have
dug them out of his pocket while he was halfway to passed-out.
"Hey, Bell, c’mon!" Ryan slapped the passenger side of the R.A., as she
walked to the other side. Smiling, she jangled the keys at him. "My treat,
I’ll drive."
Bell smiled back, raising his eyebrows at her joke. He opened the door and
got inside, his hand reaching for the seatbelt. There was very little he
could do to resist Ryan’s charms…with a sigh, he wished he could get her to
feel the same.
His hand stopped just before the seatbelt reached the buckle, and he shook
his head. He must have fallen harder than he thought…it had been a long time
since he had allowed himself to think about Ryan like that. With a heavy
sigh, Bell pushed the thought to the back of his mind and pushed the seatbelt
into the buckle.
Ryan revved up the R.A. and stole a quick glance at her partner. He was still
pale and somewhat subdued, but he looked a lot better than when he had first
been pulled from the building. Driving slowly out of the ambulance bay, Ryan
suppressed a tinge of fear…she hadn’t been lying when she told him he had
given her a scare.
When she had seen him lying on the ground, his whole body shaking from
coughing up the smoke, she…she couldn’t even feel her legs as they hit the
ground next to him. All she had wanted to do was take him in her arms
and…Ryan took a breath and shook off the feeling. Her training had kicked in,
and she had found herself distracted by Bell’s stubborn attitude and Wick’s
inexperience. Bell had seemed to think nothing was wrong, and Wick…Ryan
couldn’t fathom how he had managed to get that much equipment out of the rig
in one trip.
"So, you think there’ll be any breakfast left over?" Wick called in through
the window in the cab.
Ryan shook her head. "Not if we’re lucky…today was Bridges’ turn to cook."
Sticking out her tongue, she looked at Bell again. She frowned…his head was
turned toward the window, his eyes closed. Reaching out, she touched his arm,
and he jerked awake.
"Hey," she said softly, her hand rubbing his arm, "maybe you should go home,
huh?"
Bell shook his head. "No, no, I’m fine," his smiled and gave a playful cross
over his heart, "I swear."
Ryan gave him a stern look. "You’d better be."
Wick leaned his head toward the window. "Yeah, man, you do not want to piss
off Ryan again! That is one mean temper-"
"Enough from the peanut gallery, thank you very much." Rolling her eyes, Ryan
interrupted and closed the window. Pulling into the station, she concentrated
on not hitting the engine with the rig. Squinting, she remembered the other
reason why Bell drove…he never got into fender-benders with large, red,
parked vehicles.
Pushing on the emergency brake, Ryan turned off the ignition. Hearing Wick
get out of the rig from the back, she turned to Bell. Looking at his grim
expression, her mind snapped into overload, and she groaned. "Oh, Michael, I
totally forgot…I am so sorry."
Bell nodded. "Yeah, well, I’d better just go in and get it over with."
Ryan took a breath. "Maybe it won’t be that bad…maybe-"
Bell shook his head. "Nah, it’ll be bad. C’mon…"
With a sigh, Ryan got out of the rig, trying not to slam the door shut. She
hadn’t remembered…Bell had never really been hurt on duty before, and he’d be
in for it when they got inside. She hoped Bridges hadn’t planned anything too
evil…
She followed Bell, walking into the hall to the kitchen, a little afraid to
keep her eyes open.
"All right, Bell!"
"You go, man!"
"Well, look who it is…Sleeping Beauty!"
"You feeling rested, Bell?"
"Hey, how’s that hard head o’ yours, Bell?"
"Congratulations, Bell, you’ve now joined the ranks of the elite!"
Ryan rolled her eyes as she passed through the dozens of dangling oxygen
masks. She cringed…between the shouting and the concussion, Bell was sure to
have one hell of a headache.
Someone slapped her on the back. "Hey, Ryan, I hope you didn’t get on his
case too bad. I mean, that’s what we’re here for!" Bridges gave her a
trademark grin, and Ryan sucker-punched him in the stomach as she moved to
the refrigerator.
"Ooooh, someone’s in a bad mood…were you really worried or something, Ryan?"
Bridges made kissing noises at her, and Ryan shot him a look.
"All right, Bell, sit on down here," Durfee dragged Bell to the center of the
room and pointed for him to sit down at the head of the table. "In honor of
bonking your head and breathing in enough smoke to start a barbeque, and for
scaring a victim so bad that he ran away," the whole station erupted in
laughter, "we all decided to induct you into the ’77 hall of fame."
Bell nodded, embarrassed, as a large sheet cake was set in front of him.
Durfee continued, in his most official voice. "Now, following tradition, this
cake is respectfully dedicated to Joe Manetti," Manetti waved amid the
cheering and clapping, "the man who saved your butt."
Bell tried not to cringe as his ears took in more of the loud cheering and
clapping. Opening his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted by the sound
of the alert siren.
"Rescue 77, please respond to MVA at Orange Crest and Hill, time-out 10:02."
Pushing himself up from the table, Bell smiled and shrugged at the looks of
disappointment around him. "Thanks," he said, his voice apologetic.
"Oh, don’t worry, Bell, we’ll all find something to do with your piece of the
cake…like eat it!" Sanchez threw him a thumbs-up as he cut into the cake.
Bell nodded and returned the sign, walking back to the rig. Ryan started to
follow, relieved that Bell’s "induction" had been relatively pain free. A
hand on her arm stopped her, and Ryan turned to face Durfee.
His face was serious. "Was he cleared for duty?"
Ryan swallowed. "Yeah, he’s fine…just a bump on the head and some smoke.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him."
Durfee raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Yeah."
****
Ryan looked at her watch and yawned. 7:00pm. She was exhausted. They had been
on call after call…after call, after call… Just thinking about it made her
more tired, and she blinked, trying to concentrate on the street signs. This
had better be the last one for the night, she thought.
Wick let out a sigh, fidgeting in the passenger seat. "Sheesh…I think this
was our busiest day yet."
Ryan smiled through another yawn and poked him in the arm. "_Your_ busiest
day yet, probie…and don’t worry, you’ll have busier ones."
Wick rolled his eyes. He was getting a little tired of being called "probie."
"We almost there?"
Ryan watched the street signs pass. There…Lundley, Landley…something with an
"L," Lindley, here it is, she thought, signaling to turn. "Yeah, knock on the
window, make sure he’s awake," she said, pointing to the back of the rig.
Wick shifted and looked through the window into the darkness. "Hey, Bell…wake
up, man, we’re almost there."
Ryan could hear something scrape on the floor of the rig and a muffled
response. Yep, this really had better be the last call of the night, she
thought, pulling into a driveway. She had been worried, watching Bell make it
through the day. Not one complaint, although she could see he was running on
adrenaline, if anything at all. Getting out of the rig, she worried a
little…at the end of the last call, he had simply gotten inside the back of
the rig, strapped himself in, and closed his eyes without a word. Even Wick
had been shocked.
And he hadn’t really eaten all day, she had watched him pick at the lunch
they had gotten between calls…she had also seen him toss his burger in the
trash when he thought she wasn’t looking. When they got back to the station,
she was going to make sure he ate something and got some sleep. Ryan walked
around the rig, the incident chart in her hands.
Yawning, Bell stepped from the back of the rig, the backboard in his hands,
almost bumping into Ryan. He mumbled a "sorry," and smiled, hoping she didn’t
notice his fatigue. She raised her eyebrows and gave him a look, and Bell
realized she had most definitely noticed. He stretched his arms a little and
smiled again, trying to force himself to look more awake than he felt. Eight
calls in a row, he thought, following Wick inside the apartment building,
that had to be some sort of record, didn’t it? Well, maybe not…but it sure
felt like it.
***
"At least it wasn’t serious." Wick commented once they were back in the rig.
Ryan nodded, still confused. "I just don’t understand why all four of them
were trying to change the lightbulb…" She looked at Wick and saw the smirk on
his face. "Oh, don’t even say it." She turned out of the residential area,
heading back to the station.
Wick sighed. "I’m ready for some food, and some sleep, lemme tell you…"
"Well, good luck…I’ll bet all you’ll find is left-overs."
Wick grimaced. "Blech…"
Ryan nodded absently, her foot pressing down a little harder on the gas. Bell
had looked dead on his feet walking out from the last call, and she wanted to
get back to the station. Ryan let out a slow breath…she should have insisted
he go home, but she hadn’t known it would be so busy today, and the way he
had smiled at her…she could never say "no" when he looked at her like that.
Too bad it didn’t work the other way around…
A couple of minutes later, she pulled into the station, still trying to
collect her thoughts. She leaned her head against the back of the seat for a
moment while Wick got out. It would be so much more convenient if I just went
to sleep right here in the rig, she thought, closing her eyes. I wouldn’t
even have to get out of bed for the next call…
"Hey, Ryan, ya wanna give me a hand here?" Wick’s voice was quiet but audible
in the dark garage.
Ryan opened her eyes, puzzled, and got out of the rig, her muscles stiff. She
walked to the back of the rig, and stopped next to Wick to look inside. She
smiled and patted Wick on the arm. "Don’t worry, I’ll get him."
Wick nodded and shuffled into the station. Ryan stepped up, maneuvering
around the stretcher to the seat near the cab. Bell was sound asleep, his
head resting on the wall of the cab, right behind the driver’s seat. Standing
in front of him, Ryan reached over to wake him up, but her hand stopped just
before touching his shoulder. Her hand drifted up towards his face, gently
brushing his cheek. His face was still a bit dirty from the morning, a thin
streak of soot winding from the side of his neck to behind his ear.
God, she wanted to touch him…wipe away the dirt and the lines of tension
around his eyes…turn the frown of his mouth into the bright grin that always
made her laugh… Her face was inches from his, so close that she could feel
the soft breaths coming from his parted lips…and the feel of him breathing so
close sent chills up her spine.
She bit her lip and swallowed, trying to push away thoughts that were…that
were…well, not something she should dwell on if she valued her sanity…and her
job. Office romances weren’t exactly encouraged at the Los Angeles Fire
Authority, although everyone knew they happened. But…she had worked too hard
to get where she was…and so had Michael.
Besides, Ryan told herself, the chances that he thought of her in the same
way that she was trying so hard _not_ to think of him were miniscule.
Maybe...when they had first begun to work together, maybe…Ryan shook the
thoughts from her mind again. She had to stop this, but looking at his face,
she couldn’t help it. A face like that, a smile like his, the way he looked
at her, the deep blue of his eyes…it was enough sometimes to make her
wish...god, he made her wish...
Sighing, Ryan backed away, her hand moving from his face. Muscles that were
sore from a day of bending, kneeling, and lifting steered her feet clumsily
into the side of the stretcher, and she felt herself losing her balance,
falling. Hands reached around her waist, steadying her, and she was pulled
into a warm, protective embrace. She faltered and landed…on Michael’s lap.
Ryan was out of breath, her face again just inches from his…her hands on his
shoulders, she stared into his tired eyes…eyes that were so blue…lips so
close to hers…
And she laughed. "Sorry," she stuttered, "I was…you, uh, fell asleep, and I
was…um, I was just…gonna wake you up…I guess you're awake now..." She could
feel herself starting to blush, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see her. Good,
Kathleen, she thought, real good.
"You know," he said with a lazy smile, his hands still around her waist, "if
people see us like this, they’re gonna think we’re in love."
Ryan’s eyes widened, and she felt her skin getting hotter…and redder…
"Or," he continued, a yawn breaking his smile, "they’re gonna think you’re
the one who got bumped on the head."
Swallowing, Ryan moved to stand. She straightened up, her hands moving from
his shoulders to smooth her uniform. "Yeah," she stammered with another
laugh, "well, yeah…uh, so…thanks...for catching me, I mean..." She started to
back out of the R.A., her feet kicking the wheels of the stretcher again as
she watched him get up and follow her.
"Yep." He sighed. What a way to wake up…he’d just opened his eyes when he saw
her trip, and it had been pure instinct that had made him help her. Well,
maybe help her more than he should have…why on earth had he pulled her onto
his lap? But still…Ryan’s face right in front of his…those eyes…the way she
was breathing…he’d nearly kissed her right there.
Bell shook his head…what was with him today? He had to stop thinking like
this or Ryan would notice, concussion or not.
He carefully stepped from the R.A., his hand gripping the side of the vehicle
hard. Speaking of concussion, his head hurt like hell. Standing still for a
moment, he reached back, his fingers brushing the bump on the back of his
head. Ouch! He groaned and followed Ryan into the station, his eyes squeezing
shut at the bright light. Oh, what he wouldn’t do for some nice, deep, warm,
dark hole that he could crawl into…
"Hey, man," Wick approached, glancing over his shoulder at the firefighters
eating and talking in the kitchen, "how ‘bout ya come on in and have
somethin’ to eat?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Ryan and I kinda saw ya
toss your burger at lunch...and you really should have somethin’ to eat, man."
Bell opened his eyes a fraction and looked at Wick. "You saw me?" He had been
sure their backs were turned when he threw the burger in the trash…
Wick shrugged, looking embarrassed. He knew Ryan had been keeping an eye on
Bell all day, but he had kept his eyes open too, hoping to make up for his
overzealous behavior earlier. "Yeah, well…" He shrugged again.
Bell smiled at Wick and gave him a light slap on the arm. "Thanks, man…I
appreciate it. But I don’t think I could eat anything right now if I wanted
to…all I want to is grab a shower and hit the sack, okay?" Bell sighed. That
was an understatement…he was pretty sure that if he even looked at food, or
maybe even just at someone who was hungry, he’d throw up. And his day had
been bad enough…
Wick nodded. "You go on…I’ll keep Ryan off your back for a bit."
"Thanks." Bell smiled again and trudged down the hall to the showers. He
stopped briefly in the medics’ dormitory, grabbing a towel and some sweats.
He walked through the bathroom to the shower stalls and turned the knobs in
one of them, letting the water spray his face a little before he moved to the
small bench nearby. With a heavy breath, he pulled off his boots.
His headache was getting worse, and Bell’s fingers couldn’t seem to move in
tandem to remove his uniform. He stood up and moved towards the shower,
cursing softly under his breath as he removed his undershirt with aching
arms. He let it drop on the ground, and he stepped under the water, closing
his eyes as he felt the water wash over him.
// "I’ll keep Ryan off your back for a bit."//
Wick’s words echoed in his ears, and Bell turned the knobs of the shower,
shivering as the water turned cold. He sighed…he must have really hit his
head really hard…
***
"So, who’s up for a game of poker tonight? Sanchez? Manetti? Cap’n?" Bridges
walked into the lounge, a deck of cards in one hand.
Wick looked up, his mouth full as he took another bite of the sandwich he had
made. Chewing quickly, he flashed a last glance at the TV to check the score
and moved over to watch Bridges start to deal.
Durfee hid a grin as he saw Wick staring at the cards. He cleared his throat
loudly and looked at the other players. "You know, I am sure gettin’ tired of
probies lookin’ over my shoulder, watchin’ my cards…"
Sanchez nodded his head. "Yeah, Cap, I sympathize with ya, it’s a problem
that needs some dealin’ with."
Manetti shook his head and sighed. "Damn probies…always peerin’ over your
shoulder, messin’ up your concentration-"
"Oh, it’s awful!" Bridges added, his face somber.
Wick swallowed, trying to school the hurt look on his face. "I’m sorry…I
mean…I didn’ mean to bother ya’all, or anything-"
"Well, then move outta the way, probie! You’re distractin’ us, just standing
there." Bridges interrupted.
"Okay, okay, I’m movin’!"
Durfee held his hands up, gesturing for Wick to stop as he walked out of the
room. "Nobody told you to get outta the room, Wick…just sit your probie butt
down at the table and get yourself some cards!"
Wick grinned and quickly returned to the table, sitting next to Manetti.
Finally. " Deal me in."
***
"Full house. Eat ‘em an’ weep, folks." Delighted, Wick laid out his cards.
Sanchez looked at them in amazement, then despair. Good lord, he was losing
to a probie. And he was losing bad! Two pool retrievals, three sewer
clean-ups…he’d be working in the muck for the rest of the month at this rate.
"I don’t wanna play with him anymore…" he grumbled, his head in his hands.
Manetti watched, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was glad he had
pulled out before this last round…man, oh man, had Sanchez gotten it big
time. He looked at Wick and shook his head. This probie knew how to play some
mean poker. He shook his head again and began to get up. "I think that’s
enough for me…"
Durfee nodded, wide eyes still fixed on the cards. "Yeah," he managed to tear
his gaze up to look at Manetti, "good night."
Manetti nodded and started to walk into the kitchen, his ears listening for
Bridges to stop choking and find his voice.
"He’s cheating," Bridges stammered, "I don’t know how, but he’s got to be
cheating…"
Manetti shook his head, trying not to laugh. He shuffled into the kitchen,
brushing past Ryan with a chuckle.
"What’s so funny?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, man…the probie is wipin’ the floor with Bridges’ butt…it’s rich, Ryan,
it’s rich."
Ryan peeked into the lounge, observing the despondent expressions on the
faces of Durfee, Sanchez, and Bridges. Turning back into the kitchen, she
shrugged at Manetti. "Well, it’s about time."
Manetti grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. "So, how’s Bell…he
feeling all right?"
Ryan blushed, remembering the events in the rig. She took a breath, trying to
stop her face from getting too red. "Oh, yeah, he’s fine…I think he’s just
tired, that’s all."
Manetti looked at her, concerned. "Are you okay, Ryan? You look a
little…flushed."
Ryan turned away, opening the refrigerator and hoping the cold air would cool
her face. She cleared her throat, thinking of blue eyes…lips close to
hers…stop thinking, Ryan! "Yeah! I’m just…um…I’m tired, too."
Manetti nodded. "Uh-huh, right. Well, better get some sleep then, Ryan."
Stifling another laugh, he walked away, trying not to roll his eyes at Ryan’s
pathetic cover. Walking towards the bathroom, he shook his head. Watching
Bell and Ryan was enough to make _him_ nervous.
He shoved the door of the bathroom open, surprised when he heard a muffled
"ooph!" on the other side. He took a step inside and saw Bell rubbing his
forehead.
"Oh, god, I’m sorry, Bell," he exclaimed, reaching up to move Bell’s hand
from his head, "did I get you real bad?"
"Nah, my head’s pretty hard…" Bell mumbled, shaking his head. Closing his
eyes and gritting his teeth against the pain, he remembered too late that
shaking his head was…not…a good idea.
Manetti took hold of his shoulder, a little worried. Bell looked about ready
to pass out. "Bell? You okay?"
"Yeah…" he murmured, wishing his eyes would let Manetti unblur. He focused on
the older man for a moment…there, that was better…at least he could make out
Manetti’s face again. "Hey, Manetti," he said, his voice more clear, "I never
thanked you for this morning…"
Manetti shook his head, embarrassed. "Aw, don’t-"
"No, man," Bell interrupted, "you saved my life. Thank you."
Manetti shook his head again. "Listen, Bell…you’ve pulled my butt outta the
frying pan a couple of times…I just figured I owed you one."
"Well…thanks."
"Anytime." Manetti smiled. "And Bell?"
"Yeah?"
"You look like hell."
Bell blinked and smiled back. "Thanks, Manetti."
"Anytime."
