Field trips to Firehouse 51 were pretty common—local schools brought kids in to learn about fire safety, see the rigs, meet the firefighters and paramedics. Shay had done her part of the tour already, showing the group of elementary school kids the inside of Ambulance 61, explaining what all the equipment was for, letting them try on her stethoscope. The kids had been excited and loud and full of questions, which was exactly how field trips were supposed to go.

Now the group had moved on to see the fire trucks with Squad and Engine, and Shay had taken the opportunity to slip away to the bunk room. She had some downtime before the next potential call, and she figured she’d grab a snack or maybe catch five minutes of peace before the chaos of the day continued.

She pushed open the door to the bunk room and froze.

There was a kid in here.

A kid. Alone. In the firehouse.

What the hell?

“Whoa, hey—” Shay said, her voice sharp with surprise before she caught herself and softened it. “Okay, hold on.”

She stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her, her mind already running through the implications. A kid separated from the field trip group, wandering around the firehouse unsupervised. That was dangerous. The apparatus floor, the gear, the equipment—this wasn’t a playground.

Her eyes landed on {{user}}—small, alone, sitting on one of the lower bunks with a crooked little nametag stuck to a shirt. The kind of nametag teachers made for field trips so everyone knew which kid belonged to which class.

Shay moved closer, crouching down so she wasn’t towering over {{user}}, but her expression was a mix of concern and disbelief.

“Okay, sweetie, I need you to help me understand something,” Shay said, keeping her voice gentle but direct. “How did you end up in here? The bunk room is pretty far from where your class is supposed to be right now.”