Second Chance (PAW Patrol AU)

Chapter Ten

Alarms blared throughout the firehouse, waking everyone from their slumber. It had been weeks since the last incident, still fresh in their minds. Rocky's heart leapt as the alarm continued. Smoke clouded his view as he got low to the ground, remembering what he had learned. He crawled over to the door, feeling it, cautious for heat. It was warm to the touch, so he decided to back off.

Rushing over to his desk, he grabbed his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He bounded towards the window. Marshall had installed a rope ladder on every window, in case of emergencies. Gulping, Rocky knew it was now or never. He let the ladder unravel, watching as it smacked against the side of the building. With a deep breath, he climbed over the edge and descended down.

It was now he could smell the smoke and ash blowing in the wind. He could see an orange, ominous glow coming from the front. Once he reached the ground, he ran to the safe-spot they had all talked about.

No one was there.

He heard a scream and looked back towards the firehouse. In horror, he watched as it collapsed, the rest of it bursting into flames. "Mom! Dad!" He screamed. "Marshall... Zuma... Rubble..." He collapsed to his knees in agony, tears streaming down his face.

'It's all your fault,' a voice said. 'You could've stopped this.'

'All your fault. All your fault. All. Your. Fault!'

Rocky's eyes opened as he silently screamed to himself. He was covered in sweat. He trembled as the images of his nightmare flooded his mind. He looked over at the time. Three twenty-four a.m. With a shaky sigh, he sat up, still shaking. Hesitantly, and silently whimpering, he got out of bed and walked over to his door.

Remembering his nightmare, his hand shook as he reached for the doorknob. It was cool to the touch, much to his relief. He slowly walked down the hall until he reached the room of his parents.

Slowly opening the door, he paused, his breathing shallow as he struggled to control himself. As the door creaked open, Chase shifted in bed, an arm draped over Skye. he opened one eye, then both, looking at Rocky. Almost immediately, he sat up, careful not to wake his wife, and climbed out of bed. He gently moved Rocky back into the hall and shut the door behind them.

He took note of his son's disheveled state. His hair was a mess, his pajamas dampened. He was shaking as well. Taking his hands, he kneeled down to his level, allowing Rocky to stand over him. "What's wrong, buddy?" He whispered.

Unable to hold back, Rocky hugged Chase as tight as he could. Chase, surprised by the sudden action, held him as well. When Rocky didn't let go, he knew something must have been wrong. Picking him up, he walked over to the living room and sat on the couch, stroking Rocky's back.

"What happened?" Chase asked, "What's got you all worked up?"

"Remember that fire a few weeks back? I-I had a dream where it was much worse. I got out, but-" He began sobbing.

Chase understood, "Shh, Rocky, it wasn't real. Everyone's okay. There's no fire." Rocky kept trembling in his arms.

"I wanted to help! Honest! I just- I couldn't-"

"Dreams are strange. They reflect what we think about subconsciously." It became quiet. Chase continued. "When something traumatic happens, we tend to try and push it out of mind." Images began flooding his vision as he continued. "B-but-" He felt his throat tighten as memories came racing back. "We shouldn't try to push them away. When those moments come, we have to let them out, however we need to. Some become aggressive, changing their emotions to anger. Others become depressed and blame themselves." Chase gulped, staring far off at the wall.