Almost a week had passed since the young teen visited the station and got stitches on her knee. She had been staying at a nearby homeless camp. It wasn't the safest place; it was dirty and dangerous, especially at night. But it was still better than being in a foster home. Her cut had been bothering her a lot, causing discomfort when she walked, sat, and even when she tried to sleep at night.
"Vada, pass me the apple, will you?" a boy, not much older than her, said.
"It's literally the last one we have, Finn. Can't you wait until we can steal some more food?" she tried to convince him.
Finn was a sixteen-year-old foster runaway, just like Vada. They had known each other since Vada's first foster placement. She was six years old when her mom passed away in a car accident and was taken to Mr. Marin's house.
"Put your stuff in the room and then keep yourself occupied. I have a game to watch," Mr. Marin told the small child in front of him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, probably from the beer in his hand or the other empty bottles on the table.
Six-year-old Vada didn't know what to do. He hadn't shown her around the small house, not even where the room was. Finn, who until then had been hiding behind the railing of the house's dirty staircase, made his way over to the younger child.
"Hi, my name is Finnley. What's your name?" he asked her in a whisper, taking the trash bag from the girl's hand and helping her up the stairs.
"Vada," the small child whispered back.
"I'm a foster kid too," he told her, opening the door to a small room with two bunk beds in it. "Mr. Marin isn't that bad. He drinks a lot and sometimes forgets to go shopping, but if you follow everything he says and stay out of his way, you'll be okay." Vada nodded, feeling too uncomfortable with everything that had happened in the past two days to manage to speak. "Anyway, this can be your bunk if you want."
The room was dirty and messy, completely different from what she was used to. Sure, her mom wasn't the cleanest, but their house looked somewhat decent. Mr. Marin's house, however, smelled bad, had food in places where food shouldn't be, and it looked like nobody had used a broom in years, which was probably the truth.
Both foster siblings stayed with Mr. Marin for a year and a half. Their need to look out for each other created a close bond between them. Finnley always tried his best to protect Vada when the old man drank too much, but there was only so much an eight-year-old boy could do.
One day, when both kids showed up at school with bruises on their arms, a teacher reported her suspicions to Child Protective Services, and Mrs. Anderson took them out of the house, separating them. Finn went to a group home, and Vada was placed with another foster family.
When Vada ran away from Mr. and Mrs. Woodlock's house, she had one plan. Only one. Find Finn. Nothing was more important at that moment than finding her brother. When Finnley turned twelve, he got tired of the system and decided to run away for good. He had been living in homeless camps ever since. Vada always visited. They were siblings, regardless of what the papers and everybody else said.
"I'll go find something. I think Mr. Smith's not on shift today, so I may be able to steal some food from his store," the blond teenager said, getting out of the tent. "Remind me again why you don't go get your cut looked at?"
"I'm not risking doctors asking me questions, Finn. You know that."
"V, I'm begging you. You're a pain in the ass moving around all night," he said, causing the fourteen-year-old to roll her eyes in annoyance.
As Finn went out searching for more food, Vada made her way to the station, hoping Jack was working that day. No questions asked, she recalled what the firefighter had told her the week before. She looked around and smiled. Finally, a sunny day in Seattle, which she had been wishing for. She hated the rainy weather they had to suffer through that week. The nights had been cold and foggy, their tent was a mess, and she just wanted some light. Sure she liked the idea of a rainy day, reading a book by the window, under a secure roof, but that wasn't her reality. She didn't have that, so sunny days had become her go-to.
Station 19. There she went again.
"Hi, what can we help you with?" the lady at the check-in table asked.
"Um... I'm looking for Jack?" the brunette replied nervously, her voice almost a whisper.
"Jack Gibson?" a second lady at the table said. "He's quite a looker, isn't he?"
"Dana! She's only like ten, for goodness' sake."
Vada laughed at both women; they reminded her of a couple she had stayed with once. She had only spent three days there, all filled with endless bickering. They were nice, though, and she got sad when Mrs. Anderson told her she couldn't stay longer.
"Emily?" the young girl heard, causing her to freeze on the spot. Please don't be me, please don't be me, she prayed in her head. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Shit, she thought when it sounded even closer. She recognized that voice.
Vada turned around slowly. "I was just looking for Jack, nothing else," she told the woman before her.
"Jack's on a call right now. Something I can help you with?" Carina asked gently. The young teenager pondered for a moment before shaking her head. "Are you sure? How's your knee doing?"
"Peachy," she replied flatly, giving a faint smile, hoping to end the conversation then and there.
"Doesn't look like it from here," the doctor said, raising her left eyebrow. Vada stood still, crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one foot to another. "Come on, I'll take a look."
"It's fine, really. I was just leaving."
"I said come on," the Italian insisted firmly, her thick accent showing through. The girl huffed and rolled her eyes, reluctantly following the doctor to one of the rooms. She was led to a bed as Dr. DeLuca sat down on the chair beside her. "Show me," Carina ordered, to which the teen obeyed, this time without complaining.
"It just itches a lot," she said, not wanting to give it much significance.
"Yeah, the stitches need to come out," the doctor told her, getting everything ready.
Vada monitored everything Carina got, from the gauze to the stethoscope. "What's that for?" she asked, avoiding the doctor's touch when she started approaching her with the latter one.
"I want to listen to your heart," she said, struggling to keep the teen still.
"Why?"
"I don't know when the last time you got checked was, so I want to make sure everything's okay."
"Everything is great," the small brunette said, unable to control the shakiness in her voice.
The Italian smiled slightly, "Okay, this is what we're going to do," she said, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm gonna check your heart, and then I will remove your stitches. Nothing more, sì?" she told her softly, waiting for a response. The teen, not completely sure about the situation, just nodded slowly. "Good, would you mind taking your shirt off?"
"I don't want to," the teen looked down, embarrassed.
"That's okay. We'll do it like this, bambina."
Vada let out a shaky breath— both from nervousness and relief. She let Carina listen to her heart, taking deep breaths when asked, and when she had finished, she moved on to her knee. The doctor worked in silence, letting the young teen sit with her thoughts.
Aid Car 19, requested at 4286 Hanson View, the alarm sounded again, startling the fourteen-year-old. 4286 Hanson View. 4286 Hanson View? Mr. Smith's store, Vada thought.
She got up abruptly, shocking the woman in front of her, "Oh my god, Finn."
With that, the teen ran out of the station, the stitches on her knee mid-removed. She didn't care. Finn had gone to Mr. Smith's store that morning, hoping to steal some food for them. That was the only place her mind was in. Her stomach hurt from the half-healed— if you could even call them that —bruises Mr. Woodlock had given her the week before.
After running for what felt like forever, she came to a stop. A crowd of people surrounded the store. From the small view she had, she could see the Aid Car, a small body on the ground, and the paramedics next to it, working rapidly.
"Finnley!" she yelled, pushing people, making her way through the crowd, and approaching the body.
"Hey, hey!" a blonde paramedic caught her, stopping her from moving further into the scene.
"Stop! I need to check that he's okay," she squirmed in the woman's arms.
"Listen to me," she told the agitated teen in her arms, "I'm Lieutenant Maya Bishop, and I can assure you my teammates are doing everything they can to make sure he's okay."
Vada stopped struggling, her breathing heavy. To make sure he's okay. She couldn't do this without her brother. She needed Finn to be okay. Without him, she had no one. She had lost all control over her body, and without realizing it, she was being led to a bench, sitting down next to the blue-eyed woman.
"Can you tell me your name?" Maya asked, trying to calm the distraught teenager beside her.
"Va–Vada. My name is Vada," she replied, still looking behind her at the scene.
A darker-skinned woman than the one next to her was working on Finn, blood all around his body, while a tall man was putting something in his mouth. Her breath got caught in her throat. Maya, noticing the teen struggling to breathe, grabbed hold of her arms, forcing her to turn around and look at her. She caught a glimpse of her captain, shaking her head at one of her teammates. Fuck, she thought to herself.
Trying to keep her head straight, she turned her attention back to the teen. "Good, Vada. Keep breathing," she told her, exaggerating her breathing for the girl to copy.
Vada couldn't look at her— too many feelings at once, and she didn't know what to do. She was scared for her brother, yet embarrassed for the scene she was causing in front of the firefighter.
The lieutenant watched as Andy and Sullivan carried the gurney to the Aid Car, closing the doors behind them.
"Bishop, we have to go," her friend told her, tears in her eyes.
"Go. I'll stay here."
Andy, catching on to what her teammate was doing, nodded her head and got in the car, driving away. This time, however, no sirens could be heard.
"Why aren't they rushing? The sirens–I've seen this on TV. They should be on, they should–they–"
"I'm sorry, Vada," the woman told her sadly. "They did everything they could."
"What? No!" she yelled, running away.
She needed to get to their tent. Finn had probably fallen asleep there. She had made a mistake— that wasn't him. It was some other boy. Running, she passed the people from the camp, quickly making her way to their place. Throwing everything out, she struggled to find her brother. Tears fell from her big green eyes, blurring her vision. Arms wrapped around her, gripping her firmly, preventing the teen from throwing more stuff. Fighting harshly, she soon grew tired and fell stiffly into the stranger's arms, her vision becoming clear again. She sniffled, reality hitting her. Finn was gone. She was all alone now. Getting out of the woman's arms, not even looking at her, she sat down on the floor.
"Are you okay?" Maya asked carefully.
"I'm fine," Vada replied numbly, looking straight ahead.
"Can you let me check for injuries?"
"I'm fine, I'm not hurt."
"How about your knee?" the blonde questioned, crouching down. "Can you at least let me take a look?"
"I said I'm fine," the teen said harshly. "The lady at the station took my stitches out."
"Carina?" the firefighter asked, surprised. The girl stayed silent, not caring for conversation. "Looks like she didn't get to finish," she smiled sympathetically.
"Whatever. It doesn't matter now."
"Come on, I'll walk you back to the station so she can finish," the woman offered, getting up.
"Don't feel like it."
"What are you gonna do, take them out yourself?" Maya debated, raising her eyebrows.
Vada knew the best thing to do was to go back to the station, as the firefighter had told her. However, she couldn't move. The woman before her was asking too much of her— the thought of moving was overwhelming. From the corner of her eye, she could see Maya talking on the phone, but she couldn't hear her. Everything around her sounded muffled. So she remained where she was, her chin resting on her knees which were wrapped up by her arms. This position usually made her feel safe, and at that moment all she wanted was to feel safe. But she couldn't. Not this time. Nothing felt safe anymore, not without Finnley. He was the only person that could make her feel safe, but he was gone. He wasn't there anymore.
Tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them away. She wasn't going to cry. Crying wouldn't bring him back. Crying only got her in trouble. Her foster parents didn't like it when she cried, especially Mrs. Frank. God, she would get mad. She would say the meanest things to nine-year-old Vada and then got mad when she cried. So Vada learned to suck it up, and it worked. Eventually, that became her response every time she got upset. And that was what she was going to do then. Finn was gone, just like her mother was gone. Crying wouldn't help her.
"Bambina."
She was shaken out of her trance by a soft hand on her right knee. The doctor from the station was standing right in front of her, crouching down to her height, with concern written all over her face.
"Vada, can you let Carina take care of your knee?" Maya said gently.
Carina looked at her wife, confused. Vada? That was not the girl's name, at least not to her knowledge. Ignoring the confusion, she focused on the girl's knee. Vada, without offering any other response, stretched her injured leg, granting access to the doctor. In silence, two very concerned women worked to treat the teenager.
Minutes passed, and numerous glances were exchanged between the firefighter and the doctor, who were unsure how to approach the situation. No words were needed, though; they both understood how the other felt just by looking at each other. Carina was worried— Vada seemed lost, and her eyes had even less light than when they had first met. She looked exhausted, as if she had given up. It frightened the doctor.
Her wife wasn't much different; she had witnessed everything that had unfolded, just like Vada had. The difference was, it was Maya's job to respond to scenes like the one they were in. Vada, on the other hand, was just a kid. Maya knew it would be hard to forget. On top of that, there was still one thing she didn't know— what Finnley was to the teen sitting on the floor —and that unsettled her.