The station looks a lot different than I expected, honestly. During the time I lived in Chi-town, I only ever saw two types of fire stations. The first kind were old-old, brick and mortar buildings that you’d see in movies or TV shows. We had one like that about a couple of blocks from my elementary school and I remember touring it. It was one of those stations that I could tell the firefighters loved and hated at the same time, although it took me living in a tiny ass apartment in a ‘historical’ building to understand why. It’s sort of cool to know that your building has a history stretching almost all the way back to the Great Chicago Fire. It’s another thing altogether though when you have to put up with a drafty old building with hundred year old wiring and plumbing on a daily basis.

The other type of stations I’ve seen are the industrial ones, the new-ish ones built in the downtown area that house half a dozen trucks and look like scaled down versions of the skyscrapers and steel monsters around them. They’re the ones that the city loves, because they’re easy to maintain, easy to upgrade, and are the ones where the ass kickers work.

This station though looks different, two roll up gates attached to a sort of sloped brick building. If the Brady Bunch house was turned into a fire station, it’d look like this. It doesn’t even have two floors, it’s all one floor in an L-shape.

I feel nervous as I get out, uncomfortable in my jeans and t-shirt as I walk up. I notice that more than one firefighter immediately stops what they’re doing as I approach, and one of them comes over, his eyes roaming over me. “Please, please tell me there is something I can do for-”

“Nelson, get your ass back to work!” a loud voice calls, and the firefighter turns on his heel, hightailing it back towards wherever he was going. Out of the back of the station, I see Gerald Manheim approach, looking a lot more casual in a Chicago Fire t-shirt and work pants. “Miss O’Hara, glad to see you found the station.”

“Thank the GPS on my phone,” I admit, shaking hands with him. “I see firefighters have earned their reputations as horndogs?”

Gerald chuckles, looking in the direction Nelson disappeared to. “Some guys, yeah. They know they’re in shape, and that there’s a certain romantic mystique to the badge. Nelson’s not a bad kid though, and he’s had his distemper shots. You know, I was a little surprised you called.”

“I’m surprised you were able to meet me just a few hours after I did call,” I answer honestly. “Are you sure I’m not in the way?”

“Not at all. Actually, when I heard what was going on I called some other folks who could help, they’re over in the living area. Follow me?”

I nod, following Gerald through the bay and through a large set of doors into the rest of the station. “You ever wish you had a pole?” I ask. “I thought all stations had poles.”

“Nah, they’re not half as much fun as Hollywood makes them out to be,” Gerald says. “Here we are.”

We enter what looks like a large living room area, with a long table on one side and a bunch of old sofas on the other. Sitting on them, chatting, are two women and what looks like about a ten year old girl. When we come in, they look up, one woman smiling. “Hello.”

“Christina O’Hara, this is Keisha, my wife, and Torrie Guerrero, another firefighter who knew Dan.”

“Hello,” I greet them, shaking hands as girl grins. “And what’s your name?”

“I’m Ellie,” the girl says, shaking my hand firmly. “You know Dan?”

“I’m his neighbor,” I reply, curious. “How do you know him?”

“Hold on, let’s start at the beginning,” Gerald says, sitting down. “Miss O’Hara-”

“Chrissy, please,” I interrupt him. “This Miss O’Hara stuff’s just too weird.”

“Chrissy, like I explained the night we first met, Dan and I were probies together,” Gerald explains. “Torrie was one of the ranking firefighters in the station the night we were just finishing up our first year on the department. We were just about to get pinned when the call came in for a house fire. We responded.”

I sit forward, my elbows planting on my knees as I look around the room. “What happened?”

“When the truck got there, a girl came out, saying there were kids inside,” Guerrero says, standing up. “Benson… sorry, Dan went in before we could set up lines and follow procedure.”

“So he broke the rules?” I ask, surprised. “So the stories about him-”

“Are dead wrong,” Gerald finishes for me. “I was about a minute behind Dan with a line, and he was already searching, checking rooms upstairs. It was hot… my God it was so hot. That house was a tinderbox, and at the smallest spark it was going like a propane barbecue. We found a boy and a girl in the last room, each of us scooping up one of them to haul ass. Flashover was coming any second, there was nothing we could do about it. We were coming down the stairs and were nearly to the door when I heard the cracking, and Dan… Dan must have heard it too. Suddenly I felt this huge shove in my back and I was outside, tumbling to the ground and getting helped up by the other guys. I go to turn around and the entire doorway collapsed in. We hit that fire with everything we could, but it was too late. The first floor collapsed in on itself.”

“I was the one who pulled Dan out,” Guerrero says, her eyes filled with horror. “When we got to him, I swore he was going to be just a body. It was only by a miracle that he survived, when he fell the supports had formed a slight tent around his body that somehow didn’t crush him. Still it was close, he’d inhaled so much smoke along with the burns and when we got to him we found him and the boy… the boy didn’t make it.”

The girl Ellie, who’s been quiet this whole time, sobs once, and it hits me. “You… you were the girl?”

She nods. “My brother and I… Chrissy, Dan saved us. We were so scared, and our birth mother just ran out. We were playing upstairs when suddenly it felt like fire was everywhere, and we knew… we knew we were going to die. Then Dan kicked in the door, and he saved me. He tried to save Andy too.”

“When we found them, Dan had tucked the boy inside his coat,” Guerrero explains. “He’d broken protocol again, trying to save the boy, but the fall….” She stops, glancing over at Ellie. “Dan tried.”

“Chrissy, I know what some of the tabloid rags said about Dan after the fire,” Gerald says, his voice thick with emotion. “Part of that is because the mother was the daughter of an alderman, and the reporters wanted to raise some ruckus about the fire. Also… well, after the first lie came out a few of us visited that newspaper and the discussion didn’t go very civilly.”

“Dan’s a hero,” Guerrero says quietly. “Let’s just cut the bullshit, and say it. He’s a hero. Not in the ‘all firefighters are heroes’ ass kissing sort of way, but in the real, honest to God, they should make movies about him sort of way. He went in when nobody would have said a damn thing if he’d stayed back and waited for lines to be run. He broke every damn rule that I’d been drilling into his head all year, him and Gerald both, but if they hadn’t….”

“If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today,” Ellie says. “What the reporters never asked was why my mother ran out. We were upstairs playing because she was downstairs getting ready to get high. She liked to smoke meth, and the fire was her dropping the pipe into the garbage.”

“My God,” I whisper, shocked. “So afterwards….”

“When Dan was in the hospital, the story quickly shifted to the alderman,” Gerald says. “It’s complicated, ugly, and very Chicago, but Ellie was going to be sent to the foster care system when Keisha and I decided to volunteer. We pulled a few strings, the IAFF helped, and Ellie got to join our family.”

“So Dan saved me,” Ellie says proudly. “I’ve got a few burns under my shirt, but if it hadn’t been for him, I’d have never lived, and I wouldn’t have my Mom and Dad. I want to tell him, but Dad says that I need to give Dan time to find peace.”

I look down, the full impact of what Dan did hitting me like a punch in the chest, and when I look up I have tears in my eyes. “Why doesn’t the world know about him?”

“Because Chicago politics,” Guerrero says quietly. “And because in a town like this, by the time the scandal settled the newspapers had already churned on to the next story for the meatgrinder. The lawsuit was settled, so the biggest son of a bitch didn’t even need to admit they said anything wrong, but just a wimpy ass retraction along with no correcting what they said wrong. But Dan Benson’s what every firefighter should dream at night of being. The world needs men like Dan Benson.”

I clear my throat, and wipe away the tears that are starting to fall. “Then… maybe I can do something about that. Maybe I can show the world who he really is. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Ellie says, coming over and giving me a hug. “Can you give that to Dan for me?”

I hug the precious little girl back, and under her shirt I can feel a small twist of scar tissue. “I’ll try, honey.”

A horn blares, and I look up, fear gripping me as I worry that it’s a fire call, but Guerrero chuckles. “Don’t worry… that’s just the horn for end of work day. So, want to stick around and see what firehouse cooking’s really like?”

“Can I?” I ask, and everyone nods. “I’d be honored.”