One Night Stand // Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek ✔️

05 || CRASH

The entire morning was a blur. A red blur. A blur that seemed to go by so quickly, so suddenly, that not a single member of Truck 81 knew what hit them. Literally.

One minute they'd been looking up food trucks for Molly's Two, and then the next they were lying sideways on the street, thrown from their seats and covered in glass. They were beat up, shaken, their faces littered in cuts and bruises. Mouch had a nasty gash above his eye, rendering him out of commission for a while, but other than that, they were thankfully all in one piece. Which is the least that could be said for their truck, which was currently scattered in bits and pieces all over the road.

"We should have a spare truck here from the shop pretty soon." Casey stated as the remainder of Truck 81, minus Mouch, returned to the firehouse.

"That old beast with the bad clutch?" Cruz asked grimly, his tone matching the look on his face as Casey simply shrugged his shoulders lightly in response.

"We gonna get anybody to fill in for Mouch?" Herrmann questioned, coming to stand beside Otis who was still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

Otis hadn't even seen Truck 66 coming towards them. He'd been too busy thinking to himself about his mystery girl, wondering if there was the slightest chance that she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her. He wondered if she was mad at him, for not calling her. Would she be pissed if he ever managed to find her? Or was she relieved that he hadn't? Maybe she'd changed her mind about him and was thankful he hadn't called her as it would save her having to turn him down. He didn't like to think that that might be the case, but oftentimes he couldn't help himself. Not when he remembered how incredibly out of his league she was.

It was because of all that, because of his own self doubts, that he'd never even heard Herrmann say they were neck and neck with Welch. He never heard Casey telling Cruz to just drive the truck. He simply had no idea what was even happening until he felt the impact. Until he saw Mouch, lying amongst the glass, bleeding from the eye.

Part of him felt bad for being so distant lately. So out of focus and vacant. He knew it was dangerous for him to allow his own personal problems to cloud his mind at work, especially when it had only been a few days since he'd almost been hit by a bus, and that was off shift. But sometimes he just couldn't help it as with each passing day where he hadn't so much as heard a peep of good news about his mystery girl, he found himself running low on both hope, and energy.

In all honesty he just wanted to go home. And as though by some minor miracle, one he'd much rather have been put towards finding his mystery girl, but he'd take what he could get, his prayers were answered when Boden's next words met his slightly ringing ears, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I'm rehiring the whole crew." Boden told them, much to the others' surprise and Otis's relief. "You guys are done with your shift."

"Chief, that's not necessary." Casey protested, shaking his head as everyone but Otis mumbled in agreement.

"You've been rattled." Boden replied seriously, glancing round at the men who stood before him, their faces cut up and marked, a deep tiredness behind their eyes which paired with their slouched shoulders. He knew they were shaken, which is why he simply couldn't allow them to stay. "Go home and rest."

With a defeated nod of their heads, knowing there was no use fighting against Boden when he'd made up his mind, Truck 81 climbed out of their gear and headed towards the locker room to get changed before they headed home.

Boden watched as they walked, their feet shuffling in their unlaced boots as none of them said a word to each other. He caught a glimpse of Otis patting Cruz's shoulder as they entered the firehouse, knowing how much the situation must be affecting him given that he was driving and couldn't remember whether or not the light was green. This whole situation was a mess, one he knew would have the higher ups raining down on him like a ton of bricks.