Chapter Text
Wei Ying had been on shift only twenty minutes when the call came through. It rang twice without getting picked up and that meant it rang through on the third ring to every desk.
All the call takers were on other calls.
He waited a half a second more, playing that game of chicken where if you hesitate just a bit before doing something you don’t want to do, maybe someone will do it for you. No one did.
And he was not currently dispatching anything - his desk was completely quiet. Everyone is a call taker first. The mantra had been drilled into his head since his first day of training. Though his job tonight was as a dispatcher on fire desk 2, if a call rang through he should answer it. He sucked it up and pressed the button before the fourth ring finished.
“911, where’s your emergency?”
The TV shows always got it wrong. Operators never answered with “What is your emergency?” because the most important piece of information is where it is, not what it is. Most people call from cell phones, after all, and triangulation had gotten very good but wasn’t as precise as they would like.
The caller didn’t speak for a moment. Wei Ying could hear breathing, heavy and quick. Medical emergency?
“Hello?” he said.
“Can you help me?” came a tentative voice over his headset. A very young voice.
“Why do you need help?” Wei Ying asked. Sometimes they did get kids playing on the phone, or calling 911 for help with things like homework. Maybe that’s all this was.
“My baba won’t wake up. And there’s blood.”
Wei Ying grew still.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked, making an effort to keep his voice slow and even.
“My house,” came the answer.
“What’s your name?”
“Lan Yuan.”
“Hello, Lan Yuan,” Wei Ying said, smiling. If you smiled while you spoke, people could sense it. He wanted to do everything he could to put the boy at ease. “Can you tell me how old you are?”
“Four.”
“Lan Yuan, is anyone else home with you besides your Baba?”
“No.” Lan Yuan sniffled, and Wei Ying could hear the threatening tears.
As he talked, Wei Ying typed notes in the call notes section and passed the dispatch info over to one of his colleagues manning fire desk 1. He gave the location provided by the cell phone info, hoping that it would be correct.
“Okay, okay, listen - my friends are coming to your house, all right? They will be there soon to help your Baba and you. Can you stay on the phone with me until they get there?”
“Can you come?”
“No, I’m sorry, I have to stay here to answer the phone, but I will keep talking to you, okay?”
More sniffles came through the line.
Wei Ying agonized.
His job came with rules, and regulations aplenty. HIPAA was a thing,and there were a lot of restrictions on what they could and could not do when on the phone. But this kid was so little. And he was scared.
Fuck it.
“A-Yuan. Will you listen to me?” he said in Mandarin, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake and stressing the kid out even more. Shit, what if he didn’t even know Mandarin?
One loud sniffle and then the little voice came back, also in Mandarin. “What’s your name, Gege?”
When on the phone with the public he had no name, just his employment number. He should answer and give his name as Operator 5876. Instead, he said “I’m Wei Ying. Wei-gege.”
“Wei-gege,” A-Yuan said. “Will you help me?”
“Yes, I’m going to help you. And my friends will be there soon to help you too. A-Yuan, you said there was blood? Where is the blood?”
“On the floor. And Baba’s head.”
“Okay, now A-Yuan, can you walk to the bathroom and get a towel? Take the phone with you and keep talking to me. But I want you to go get a towel.”
He heard noises as A-Yuan shuffled the phone around and got up. Someone cleared their throat behind him. Wei Ying turned to see the night supervisor. “What are you doing?” she whispered at him.
He just shook his head and went back to his call. “A-Yuan? Do you have the towel yet?”
“Yes, Wei-gege,” he answered.
“Good, good. Take it back to Baba, please. Now I want you to put the towel where the blood is coming from Baba’s head. I want you to press down on it, kind of hard. You won’t hurt your Baba, it will be okay. Can you do that?”
“Uh huh,” came the determined answer.
His supervisor grabbed his shoulder. Wei Ying quickly thumbed the mute button on his headset.
“You are supposed to use Language Line if they don’t speak English! You know this!”
“It’s a terrified 4 year old boy,” Wei Ying said. “I’m going to do whatever I need to do to make him more comfortable.”
He called across to fire desk #1’s dispatcher. “Who’s on the way, Carrie?”
“Engine 2 and Rescue 12,” his colleague answered.
Rescue 12 meant Mo Xuanyu would be responding. That was good. Mo Xuanyu’s Mandarin wasn’t great, his home situation being one that wasn’t really conducive to Chinese school on the weekend like Wei Ying had suffered through for years with the Jiangs, but he would know how to talk to the kid and exchange informal greetings at the least.
Wei Ying clicked the button again to turn his mic back on and turned his attention back to his caller. “A-Yuan, is your Baba moving, or making any noise?”
“He’s asleep,” came the answer.
That could literally mean anything. The man might be diabetic, and passed out due to an issue with his blood sugar. Or he could have had a seizure or stroke. Or he could be dead.
“Is there still blood coming from your Baba’s head?” he asked A-Yuan.
A short pause. “Yes,” Lan Yuan said. “It keeps running down his head to the floor.”
“Okay, put the towel back, for now, all right?” That was good. Dead people didn’t bleed.
“Wei-gege,” the little boy said. “Will you come help me?”
It was the second time he had asked for that. Wei Ying’s heart lurched. He wanted to say yes, and just get up and walk out of the center so he could go help the boy in person.
“I’m sorry, A-Yuan, I can’t,” he said. “But my friend is coming. His name is Mo Xuanyu. He will help you.”
Through his headset Wei Ying heard more sniffling, then a sob. “Wei-gege, I’m scared,” the boy cried.
“I know you are, baobei. But I’m here and I’m going to keep talking to you, don’t worry,”
And now Wei Ying had a truly horrible thought.
A-Yuan could not go to the hospital in the rescue unit. If there were no one else to care for him, the crew would call for a police response and they would in turn call child protective services.
If no close family member could be found to care for him A-Yuan might be turned over to an emergency foster care provider.
Wei Ying froze. That could not happen.
He opened a browser tab and began snooping. Technically he should not be able to do this, but he had been gifted credentials that gave him a bit more leeway than the average dispatcher or operator because he was the technology contact for his shift.
And really, they shouldn’t have given him the power to do this if they didn’t want him to use it, right?
He chatted with A-Yuan as he worked. The boy told him his favorite animal was rabbits, and that one day his baba had promised they might even get a rabbit as a pet.
Wei Ying refrained from telling A-Yuan his favorite animal was a fox just in case the boy knew that rabbits were a primary food source for foxes.
His fingers flew across the keys as he continued to try and find information. The address given by the cell phone, according to property records, belonged to a Lan Zhan. That sounded promising. A single owner, not jointly owned with anyone. Was there no mom in the picture?
“A-Yuan, who takes care of you when your baba can’t?”
“My bobo,” came the answer.
“Do you know your bobo’s name? Or, what people call him in English?”
“Lan Xichen.”
With this info, Wei Ying continued to search. Lan Zhan did not yield any social media accounts that looked appropriate for a man with a four year old son. Lan Xichen was little better - there was only a profile page on a publishing website. The page contained a picture - Uncle Xichen, if this were the right one, was close to Wei Ying’s own age, maybe a bit older. His smile was friendly but professional.
No way to know if he was the correct person or not. And no contact information other than a business email.
His colleague let him know the units had arrived on scene. “A-Yuan, can you go open the door so my friends can come in and help your Baba?” he asked.
“I guess,” A-Yuan seemed hesitant.
“They are here to help you, A-Yuan. Please let them in.”
He heard movement, and shuffling noises over his connection. Then a rustling as if the phone were being moved and a voice came over: “Operator?”
“Xuanyu,” Wei Ying said with relief. “There’s an uncle, Lan Xichen I think - check the phone contacts. Please get someone there to look after the kid.”
“I’ll try,” and then the call cut out and Wei Ying pulled off his headset and stood up. “I’m taking my break” he announced, though it was still very early in his shift.
He sat in the break room and blinked back tears. It’s just the coincidence of the age, he told himself. The kid is four years old and Chinese. Coincidence. Get a hold of yourself.
For the next 15 minutes he sat there, staring at the cheap laminate cabinets that lined the wall of the break room, and fighting to keep memories from swamping him. .
He needed to go back to his desk and get back to work.
He walked to his locker and opened it to take out his phone. Electronic devices were specifically prohibited at the desks - so he could only ever check it at breaks and his midnight lunch hour.
There was a message from Mo Xuanyu:
Mo Xuanyu -
Found the uncle. He got there before we got the Dad loaded in the truck. He’ll be fine, concussion and stitches. Uncle has the kid.
Wei Ying quickly typed out a thanks and Mo Xuanyu followed up with a gif from The Office with the text “No Problem.” Paramedics got to have their phones with them on shift.
Lucky bastards.
Wei Ying put his phone back in the locker and went back to his desk, nodding at his colleagues who had covered for him during his break.
His mind buzzed with apprehension. He wanted to know how A-Yuan’s father was. He wanted to know for certain that A-Yuan was okay.
As he often did at night when he was distracted and had no dispatches to keep him occupied, he began to sketch.
The rules at the 911 center prohibited electronic devices but did not prohibit paper books, which Wei Ying had expanded to notebooks where he could write and sketch.
He took out the slender pencil case with all his charcoal pencils and flipped to a new fresh page in his sketchbook and began sketching some broad strokes to get the concept down.
A-Yuan liked rabbits. He would draw him some rabbits. You’ll never see him to give it to him, what are you doing?
He ignored the inner negative voice that tended to sound a lot like Jiang Cheng in his head and kept sketching.
Soon he had sketched two rabbits, one much larger, the small one leaning up to touch noses with the larger one and having one ear flopped over. It was cute. Wei Ying didn’t often do cute.
And he shouldn’t be sketching rabbits anyway. He had a new town for his gaming group to visit this weekend. He was off Saturday, so it was a gaming night. He should get out his grid paper and begin drawing the rough outline of the town and the various taverns and shops they could visit. He should probably sketch an NPC or two as well.
Not that he HAD to, mind you. There was no rule, or law or anything. It’s just that his game group was spoiled, because he so often DID sketch his NPC’s so they could more easily visualize them when interacting.
If he didn’t, some of the players might whine. Nie Huaisang would definitely whine.
He sighed and abandoned his bunny sketch to turn over to a new sheet of paper. As he did, a call came across his desk.
He leaned forward, pressing the button needed to tone out Station 1: “Engine 1, Rescue 11, 2823 Caldecott Lane, Difficulty breathing. Cross streets are 3rd Street and Stone Drive.”
He waited a moment until both Engine 1 and Rescue 11 acknowledged the call, repeating their transmissions. “Engine 1 responding, Rescue 11 responding.”
He settled into the routine of the job, and tried very hard not to obsess over whether little A-Yuan and his baba were doing okay or not.
***
When Lan Zhan clawed back to consciousness he became aware of two things instantly and simultaneously: his mouth was dry and horrible-tasting, and his head hurt.
He opened his eyes and blinked several times before he realized he was in a hospital. What had happened? He tried to sit up to survey the situation and the movement made someone come to him.
“Oh, you’re awake. I’m supposed to let them know if you wake up, hold on.”
“Nie Mingjue?” Lan Zhan said, even more confused now. Why was he in a hospital and why was Nie Mingjue here with him?
Nie Mingjue pressed the call button and let the person who answered it know that Lan Zhan was awake.
Another thought penetrated the fog of his mind and he reached out and grabbed at Nie Mingjue’s arm. “A-Yuan,” he gasped. “Where’s A-Yuan?”
“With Xichen. Which is why I’m here. We were having dinner and we got a call that you were about to be transported to the hospital and someone needed to get A-Yuan. We rushed there and it was decided that A-Yuan would be more comfortable with Xichen than me, so I came here. Xichen was going to call your uncle.”
Before Lan Zhan could question him further, the nurse came in and for the next hour or so he was answering questions and giving information. He learned he had been found by emergency services, bleeding from the head and unconscious. He remembered feeling very faint and unsteady on his feet, as he was just recovering from the flu. The only thing he could think of happening was that he passed out from dehydration or exhaustion and hit his head on the edge of the counter as he fell.
The hospital had done plenty of tests, and ruled out heart attack, stroke, and there was not enough evidence to confirm or deny a seizure. The passing out and hitting his head was the most likely explanation. He had a concussion, and a laceration that had been stitched closed. He could likely be discharged tomorrow if all went well.
Then the medical team left and Lan Zhan turned to Nie Mingjue, who had hovered in the background and texted updates to Lan Xichen.
“How did emergency services know to come to the house?” he asked.
“A-Yuan called 911,” Nie Mingjue answered.
Lan Zhan looked at him in surprise. “He did? We talked about it before, but I didn’t know if he would remember.”
“Well he did, and apparently the 911 operator left a big impression on him. He was holding a towel to your head when everyone arrived and he said it was because his Gege on the phone told him to.”
Lan Zhan closed his eyes and sighed. “He must have been terrified. I need to see him.”
“Tomorrow,” Nie Mingjue said. “Xichen said he fell asleep about an hour ago.”
Lan Zhan nodded. He was tired himself. He assured Nie Mingjue that he didn’t need to stay with him, and then he spoke on the phone for a moment with his brother. Xichen promised to be up there with A-Yuan in the morning and to stay until he was discharged.
When he was alone in the hospital room he closed his eyes, relaxed back into the patently uncomfortable hospital bed and let himself wonder how frightened A-Yuan must have been to pick up the phone and call 911. He wondered who the person was that spoke to him and helped him.
He hoped this gege was having a good night.
***
Wei Ying was not having a good night.
He enjoyed Fire Desk 2 because it tended to be quieter, giving him more time to read, sketch, and write and prepare for his game sessions. Also, Fire Desk 2 consisted of a multitude of different, smaller fire and rescue organizations, all with different radio protocols so it was challenging and required him to think when he did get calls.
But tonight, tonight was another thing entirely. A commercial fire had broken out in a warehouse of a paint manufacturer. The local department was not equipped to handle it so several requests for mutual aid had gone out. Wei Ying had coordinated multiple calls and responses for aid and the incident had drug on for more than 3 hours.
The fire was finally under control and no injuries were reported, but he was exhausted and had not eaten lunch, not wanting to take a break when he was the one who had coordinated everything.
When he finally sat back down in the break room at 3 AM and watched his frozen entree spin in the microwave, he managed to think again about little A-Yuan.
Four years old. Scared and alone. Calling 911 because he had no other chance of getting help.
Wei Ying had not called for help when he was four. According to Uncle Jiang, he had struggled out of his carseat and made his way into the front seat to rest against his mother’s body.
He was found hours later, and had been taken from the car and turned over to child protective services for placement in emergency foster care.
His memories of the time were fleeting, mere impressions really. He knows he cried every night, wailing into the darkness for his dead parents. Uncle Jiang came and claimed him and took him to Lotus Pier two days before his fifth birthday.
He kept screaming and crying in the night after that, but at least then both Yanli and Jiang Cheng were there to comfort him.
Did A-Yuan have someone with him tonight? Was someone holding and comforting him? Wei Ying hoped so.
This is ridiculous. You don’t even know him. Snap out of it.
The microwave dinged and he took out his cheap, frozen dinner just as he had every shift since he started.
Nothing had changed. Not really.
Why then did he feel as if something had fundamentally shifted, as if the world had suddenly moved into a different alignment?