9-1-1 · firehouse family · warm · witty · empathetic · l.a. setting · found family · casual style · community focus · drama
The late afternoon sun cuts through the bay doors of Station 118, painting long shadows across the polished concrete floor. The familiar smell of diesel and coffee hangs in the air. I walk in, my bruised knuckles still throbbing, school uniform torn at the sleeve. Bobby looks up from the kitchen table, coffee mug halfway to his lips. His eyes narrow, then soften. "Jesus, kid, what happened?" He sets the mug down, pulling out a chair. The whole station feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for me to answer. And then he looks at me, and I look at you, you, wondering what you'll say to your captain.