The Best Bad Luck

By Peggy

July 2000

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Author's Notes: My very first Emergency! story.  Thanks to Donna (for saying "I dare ya") and to Kelly and Susan for the encouragement.

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One minute John Gage was ten feet in the air at the top of a ladder helping Marco wrestle an inch and a half line into submission and the next he was on the ground staring up at his astonished colleague. They'd been hit by a ferocious gust of wind, the ladder had swayed, and Johnny had felt himself toppling over backward. He'd scrabbled frantically for something to grab hold of, his gloved hands slipping ineffectually across the slick surface of Marco's turnout coat for a second, and then he'd hurtled toward the ground grabbing at the ladder in a desperate attempt to slow his descent. By some miracle, he'd landed on his feet, dazed but apparently uninjured.

"Johnny, are you okay?" Marco was frantic.

"Yeah, I think so." Gage took a couple deep breaths, shook off the initial shock of the fall and scrambled back up the ladder.

Station 51, along with three other companies, had been called to the scene of a warehouse fire. The building was almost fully engulfed when they'd arrived and getting the fire under control had been a struggle. A thunderstorm had blown in, accompanied by high winds and brilliant flashes of lightening, making the already dangerous situation even worse. Finally, after nearly three hours of grueling work, the fire department had prevailed and the inferno was nearly out.   Johnny had been helping Marco douse a hot spot on the second floor when the sudden blast of wind had sent him flying.

"You sure you're all right?" Marco asked as Johnny reclaimed his spot on the ladder and hoisted the hose over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can't believe I landed on my feet like that."

"Cats always land on their feet," Marco replied with a chuckle.

"Cats?"

"Well, I always said you had nine lives..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Very funny."

~**~

Another two hours passed before it was safe for Station 51 to leave the scene. It was nearly 8:00 AM on Friday morning and they were off duty by the time they got back to the station. All Johnny wanted to do was climb in his Land Rover, drive home and sleep for twelve hours. But he was filthy and reeked of smoke so he forced himself into the shower. When he emerged, wrapped in a towel, he found his partner slumped on the bench in the locker room looking as exhausted as Johnny felt.

"You look like hell, Roy."

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"I'm off for the next two days, and I swear to God I'm going do nothing but sleep," Johnny declared as he began pulling on his street clothes. "This has been a miserable shift."

Roy nodded in agreement and pushed himself up off the bench with a weary sigh. "Guess I should get cleaned up and go home."

"Hey, are we still on for poker Saturday?" Johnny was rooting about in his locker as he spoke, trying to find the boots he'd worn in from home.

"Yeah, I guess so. Unless Jo's got a long 'honey do' list for me."

Gage snorted at that and flashed DeSoto a teasing grin. "Well, I'll call you Saturday morning and see if she'll let you come out and play, all right?" Realizing that his boots were nowhere to be seen, he pushed himself to his feet with a disgusted sigh. "If Chet hid my boots again, I swear to God I'm gonna kill him." He was halfway to the day room when Roy called out to him.

"What's the matter with your foot?"

"Huh?" Johnny stopped and cast a quizzical glance over his shoulder. "Nothing. Why?"

"You're favoring your right foot when you walk."

"I am?" Johnny stared down at his sock clad feet for a moment. "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I took a little spill off a ladder during that last call. Must have sprained it. No big deal."

"You fell off a ladder?" There was concern in Roy's voice. "Did you get checked out?"

"Nah," Johnny waved an impatient hand in his partner's direction. "No need to. Landed on my feet if you can believe that. Scared me more than anything. I'm fine."

"Maybe you should swing by Rampart on your way home and have it checked."

"I'm fine, Roy," Johnny replied firmly. "Or at least I will be as soon as I find my damn boots."

"I really think you should get checked out just to be safe. At least let me look at it," DeSoto was nothing if not persistent.

"You're making too much of this. It's just a bruise. It hardly even hurts. I'll go home, go to bed with an ice pack and it'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Well, okay." Roy sounded dubious. "But if it's not better by tomorrow promise me you'll get it checked out."

"All right, Mother. I promise. Now go home and get some sleep, would ya? You look like you're ready to keel over and I want you wide awake when I take all your money Saturday night!"

~**~

True to his word, Johnny went home and went to bed with an ice pack. More accurately, he went to bed with a bag of frozen peas because he didn't have any ice in the freezer. Exhaustion set in the minute his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light.

He woke in the mid-afternoon to an empty stomach, a full bladder and a bed full of peas. The bag had broken while he slept.

"Oh man!" He slapped at the sheet in annoyance, succeeding only in scattering half a dozen peas onto the carpet. With a disgusted sigh, Johnny clambered out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He made it exactly two steps before the searing pain in his right heel nearly sent him crashing to the floor.

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed again, grabbing at the dresser for support. He lifted the offending foot and was startled to find that his heel was swollen and ringed with dark bruises. "What the hell?"

"Must have bruised it worse than I thought," he muttered as he hobbled to the bathroom, careful not to put any weight on his right heel. As he prepared himself to face the day, Johnny thought briefly of his promise to Roy that he'd have his foot checked if it wasn't any better. "It's just a bruise," he told himself firmly. "It needs rest, ice and elevation. Nothing I can't do at home."

Besides, he reasoned, he had a lot to do. There were peas ground into his last clean set of sheets, he needed to go to the grocery store and he'd promised Mrs. Pepperman across the hall that he'd take a look at her leaky faucet. "Tomorrow," he promised himself. "If it's not better tomorrow, I'll get it checked out."

After preparing himself a simple supper, Johnny settled in front of the TV with his foot wrapped in a bag of frozen carrots. "Gotta pick up a bag of ice while I'm at the grocery store," he thought with a grin. "And more frozen vegetables." By the time he'd finished eating and watched the news, his heel was feeling better. He took some Tylenol as a precaution, eased his feet carefully into a pair of battered moccasins and headed out the door with his laundry basket tucked under his arm.

~**~

Four o'clock in the morning found Johnny sprawled on his sofa staring blearily at the late, late show. There was an old Humphrey Bogart movie on, one of his favorites.  But for once, he wasn't enjoying the movie; in fact he wasn't really paying attention to it. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep. He'd tried to do just that a few hours ago but without success. He'd downed a beer, taken twice as much Tylenol as the label on the bottled recommended, elevated his foot on a pillow and wrapped it in a proper ice pack. None of it had helped. The pain in his heel had become as constant and annoying as a toothache. After an hour, he'd given up and hauled himself out of bed.

"Face it, John," he muttered to himself, "it's getting worse instead of better. Guess you should of listened to Roy and gotten it checked."

But he hadn't, in spite of the fact that deep down he'd known his partner was right. He'd known back at the station when he'd pried his boots off and headed for the shower. But he'd ignored it, played dumb when Roy caught him limping and brushed his partner's concerns aside. Because admitting it meant admitting that he'd been injured in the line of duty. Again.

Remembering Marco's 'nine lives' remark, Johnny groaned and scrubbed at his face with both hands.

He hated the constant jokes about his penchant for getting hurt. Yeah, he'd had more than his fair share of injuries but was that his fault? It wasn't like he asked to be hit by a car, knocked down a flight of stairs or bitten by a rattlesnake. Bad things just happened to him. A lot. It was almost, he mused, as if someone out there enjoyed seeing him get hurt.

Johnny glanced at his watch. 4:30. He briefly considered getting dressed and driving over to Rampart but discarded the idea. There was nothing he hated more than being rousted out of bed in the middle of the night for a call and finding out the patient's illness or injury was hours, or even days old. More than once he'd had to bite his tongue to keep from saying "You did this eight hours ago and you're just calling us NOW? You waited this long, couldn't you have waited until morning?" He refused to be guilty of the very act he'd complained frequently, and loudly, about. He'd tough it out until morning.

~**~

Johnny drifted into an uneasy slumber shortly before dawn; he was awakened a mere two hours later by the shrill of the phone sitting only inches from his head. Holding one hand over his racing heart, he grappled for the receiver with the other.

"H'lo?"

"Johnny? Is that you?"

"Roy?" His voice was thick with fatigue. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Roy? Yeah, it's me.

What time is it?"

"It's a few minutes after 9:00. I didn't wake you did I? I thought you were always up with the sun."

"I, uh, had kind of a late night."

"Oh, I see." Roy's voice took on a knowing tone. "Blonde, brunette or redhead?"

"Gray, actually," Johnny replied with a smile. "I fixed my neighbor's leaky faucet and she insisted on feeding me homemade chocolate cake afterward."

"And this kept you out until all hours of the night?"

"Well, no. But I didn't get out of bed until afternoon so come bedtime I wasn't tired. I stayed up and watched the late, late movie." Why he didn't just tell Roy the truth, Johnny didn't know. He was just postponing the inevitable. But for some reason, he just couldn't make himself admit to his friend that he was hurting. Not yet.

"Well, I won't keep you from your beauty sleep," Roy was saying. "I just wanted to let you know we're still on for poker. The guys are meeting here around 6:00 PM, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Good deal. I'll see you then." Gage hung up the phone and heaved himself off the couch to begin the arduous task of getting himself to the hospital. It proved to be even more difficult than he'd expected

Bearing weight on his right heel was exquisitely painful, much worse than it had been the night before. He was forced to hop to the bathroom where he showered while balancing precariously on one leg. Getting dressed was a little easier since he could do most of it sitting down but putting on his socks nearly reduced him to tears.

"Oh, man," he groaned. "You really did it to yourself this time." He gritted his teeth and forced his right foot into the same soft moccasins he'd worn the night before. He got the shoe on, barely, but the pain left him sprawled across the bed sucking in air and fighting the urge to vomit. It took him another ten minutes to work up the energy to get off the bed.

Using anything and everything he could grab onto for support, Johnny made his way to the living room, grabbed his keys and hopped out the door. Getting down the four steps in front of his apartment building seemed as impossible as skiing down Mt. Everest but somehow he made it and dragged himself into the Rover. Exhausted and wet with sweat, he leaned his head against the seat back and closed his eyes, gathering his strength for the next step: driving to Rampart.

Johnny actually had the engine running and the truck in gear before he realized the futility of his plan. The second he tried to apply the slightest pressure to the gas pedal, his heel exploded in pain; pain so severe it left him a whimpering, shaking heap on the front seat of the truck. How he had the presence of mind to throw the gearshift into park and turn off the engine, he'd never know. He lay there panting for several long minutes then hauled himself out of the Rover and made the long, painful journey back to his apartment.

Collapsing on the couch, Johnny wiped the perspiration off his face with a shaking hand and, reluctantly, reached for the phone. "Hi, Jo. Is Roy there? I need a favor."

~**~

"You fell how far?" Dr. Early was gently palpating Johnny's heel as he spoke.

"I'd say about ten feet. OW!" The last was the result of the doctor touching a particularly sensitive spot.

"Sorry." Dr. Early released Gage's foot and regarded the young paramedic sternly. "You should have come in right away, Johnny."

"Yeah, Doc, I know. I already got that lecture on the way over here." Johnny glanced at Roy, who was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, glowering back at him.

Dr. Early exchanged a knowing glance with DeSoto and chuckled. "I'm sure you did. And you deserved it. But I won't make you sit through the lecture again. We need to get an x-ray of course, but

I'm almost positive you have what's called a paratrooper's fracture. Ever heard of it?"

Johnny's brow knitted in concentration. "Yeah, I think so. Something about high impact falls, isn't it?"

"It is. And it's a very common injury among paratrooper's who land improperly; hence its name.

When you fall from a height and land in a standing position, it drives your heel into the ground like a pile driver. The force of the impact can actually shatter the bone. I don't think yours is that bad or you wouldn't have been able to walk on it at all. I suspect you got lucky. "

Johnny snorted at that.

Dr. Early smiled and patted his patient's leg. "I know, I know, it doesn't seem that way right now. But most of the paratrooper's fractures I've seen have been very severe. The patients ended up in surgery and on crutches for months."

Gage gulped audibly and cast a worried glance at his partner. Roy pushed himself away from the wall and came to stand at his partner's side, silently offering support.

"Since you were able to bear weight at first, I suspect you have a much less severe fracture, probably an incomplete one: meaning not all the way through the bone. If that's the case, odds are you won't need surgery. Let's get the x-ray and take it from there, all right?"

Johnny nodded his consent.

Roy shifted from foot to foot, opening and closing his mouth several times as if he wanted to say something. But, ultimately, he remained silent.

"Go ahead," Johnny sighed.

"What?"

"Go ahead and say 'I told you so'. I know you're dying to."

Roy ducked his head in an attempt to hide his smile. "I wasn't gonna say that."

"Oh yes you were."

There was a long moment of silence and then Roy spoke up softly. "I told you so."

~**~

Just as Joe Early had predicted, the x-rays showed a fracture of Johnny's heel. After consulting with an orthopedic surgeon via telephone, Dr. Early sent Johnny back for more x-rays: two views of his uninjured left heel and a series of films called tomograms. The exam didn't hurt, but lying there watching the large x-ray camera swing back and forth above him was a bit unnerving.

When the exam was completed, Johnny was returned to the emergency room to wait for a consultation with the orthopedist. Roy had gone to get some coffee and make a couple phone calls, including one to Captain Stanley. Johnny shuddered at the thought of Cap's reaction. He knew the tongue-lashing

Roy had given him would be nothing compared to the lecture he was in store for the next time he saw his superior. Worse yet, the guys at the station would know. Chet was going to have a field day.

Johnny was startled from his unhappy reverie by the sound of a familiar voice. "Well, look who we have here."

Dixie stood in the doorway dressed in casual off-duty clothes, an amused expression on her face.

"Hi, Dix," he replied with a wan smile. "Thought it was your day off."

"It is," she crossed the room to stand by Johnny's bed. "One of my nurses had a baby last night and I came to visit. I was just passing through the ER on my way out and who do I see but my favorite accident-prone paramedic. What happened this time?"

Gage related the story of his accident listlessly, concluding with, "So now I'm waiting for this orthopedic guy to show up and ruin my day even more."

"Well, from the sound of things, it could have been a lot worse. You know, Johnny, you've got the best bad luck of anyone I know."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because as often as you get hurt, the injuries are never as bad as they could have been and you always bounce back in record time."

"Yeah, I suppose so," he sighed.

Dixie cocked her head and gave him a long, assessing look. "So why the long face?"

"I dunno. I guess maybe I'm tired of my accident-prone reputation." Johnny pushed himself up on his elbows and stared glumly down at his swollen foot. "It gets old after a while, ya know?"

"Hey, you're talking to the girl who got her hand stuck in a vending machine," Dixie reminded him.

"Do you have any idea how long it took to live that down?"

"Yeah, but imagine getting your hand stuck in the vending machine every couple weeks." Johnny thumped back down onto his pillow with an unhappy sigh. "And why the hell do these things keep happening to me? I'm not a klutz, Dix; I swear I'm not. And I'm not reckless, even though I've been accused of it once or twice. I know proper procedure. I take precautions. But stuff like this," he gestured toward his foot, "keeps happening anyway."

"Want to know what I think?"

Gage glanced at her suspiciously. "I'm not sure I do."

Dixie smiled. "No jokes, I promise."

"Yeah, okay. What do you think?"

 "You're a good paramedic, Johnny, and a good person. You care about people. You want to help them and you're willing to put yourself on the line to do it. When there's a difficult rescue, you never hesitate to jump in and do what needs to be done. If that's recklessness, then we need more reckless people."

Johnny shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed, his face hot with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. "Thanks, Dix," he mumbled, not quite able to meet her eyes.

"You're welcome," she replied warmly. "Now, I've got to get going. I'm meeting Kel for lunch and you know how grumpy he is when he's hungry. You take care, Johnny."

"I will."

Dixie left the room, only to poke her head back in a second later. "Oh, and Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Your orthopedic 'guy' is coming down the hall."

"About time."

"I have a feeling you won't mind the wait so much when you see Dr. Frost."

"Oh, really and why is that?"

"You'll find out in a minute." Dixie flashed him a cryptic smile and was gone.

A moment later, the doctor entered the room. "Mr. Gage? I'm Dr. Frost."

The orthopedic surgeon Joe Early had consulted was a woman; and a young attractive woman at that. Female doctors had become more common in recent years, but Johnny had never met a lady surgeon, especially not a tall, willowy, blonde lady surgeon with legs to die for.

He sat up straight, swiped his hair out of his eyes and fixed her with his best devilish smile. "Well, hello!"

Much to his dismay, Dr. Frost seemed more interested in his x-rays than she did in him. After a perfunctory greeting, she hung the films on the view box and spent a long time studying them. She even produced a wax pencil and drew a pair of intersecting lines on one image, repeating the procedure on the matching view of the left heel. When she'd measured and re-measured the angles formed by the lines she'd drawn, she finally turned back to her eager patient.

"Well, Mr. Gage…"

"Call me Johnny." The devilish grin got a bit wider.

"Johnny," the doctor nodded in acknowledgement, seemingly unimpressed by the dazzling smile beaming her way. "As Dr. Early already informed you, you've sustained an incomplete fracture of your right heel."

Johnny nodded and switched tactics. If the devilish smile didn't work, the wounded puppy dog look surely would.

"According to the measurements I just took, the Bohler's angle of your right heel is thirty degrees. That's five degrees less than the corresponding measurement of your left heel which is a clear indication of a fracture."

Johnny stared at her, perplexed. He prided himself on his medical knowledge but he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. He wondered briefly if the tall, dark and dumb look he was almost certainly sporting would do him any good. The wounded puppy dog certainly hadn't seemed to defrost Dr. Frost.

"However," the doctor continued calmly, "thirty degrees is well within the normal range. Additionally, a careful review of your tomograms shows that the sub-talar joint and posterior facet appear stable."

Johnny sincerely hoped the lost and confused look was doing something for her.

"I don't feel that surgery is necessary in this case."

Now that Johnny understood and he practically wilted in relief. "Great! So what are we talking about? A cast and crutches for a couple weeks?"

"Unfortunately it's a bit more complicated than that."

"But you just said I was fine!" Johnny protested, his sense of relief disappearing in a flash.

"No, I said you didn't need surgery. You still have a serious injury. Treated improperly, your foot could become unstable and then surgery would be required."

"So what do I have to do?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"I'm ordering complete bed rest until all signs of swelling are gone; at least a week, I'd think. Then a minimum of six weeks in a cast with no weight bearing."

Suddenly the lovely young doctor didn't look so lovely. As she went on to outline the treatment plan she had in mind for him, she became less and less enchanting. And when she announced that she wanted the complete bed rest to take place in the hospital, Johnny decided he didn't like her at all.

"Listen, Doc, there's no reason for me to stay in the hospital. I can rest at home."

Dr. Frost was shaking her head almost before he finished the sentence. "I'd rather have you here.

You need to stay off that foot, keep it elevated and keep ice on it as much as possible. Being at home, you'd be too tempted to get up when you shouldn't. I'm going to admit you."

"Now hold on a minute," Johnny protested. "I'm a paramedic. I know what complete bed rest means and if you tell me it's important, I'll take you at your word. But I can do it just as well at home as I can here. I live in an apartment so I don't even have to go up and down steps. I'll be fine."

"And you'll stay in bed all day?" She was clearly skeptical.

"Yes."

"Do you live alone, Mr. Gage?"

"Yeah, I do." He wondered briefly what had happened to calling him Johnny. He wasn't making any headway at all.

"So while you're staying in bed all day, who is going to get your meals?"

"Well, uh …"

"And what about laundry and other basic household chores? Who's going to change your ice packs?

Get you a drink of water? Bring you your medication?"

"Um ..."

"I'm sure you have good intentions, Mr. Gage, but there's no way you'll get the kind of rest you need at home. You tell yourself you can stay in bed all day but it's impossible. You'll find yourself getting up every couple of hours and that just won't do."

"But, Doc," Johnny cringed at the whiny tone of his own voice, "isn't there some other way? I really don't want to spend a week in the hospital."

"Come stay at my place." Roy stood in the doorway, coffee mug in his hand. Neither of them had heard him return but clearly, he'd been there for a while. "Joanne's home all day."

"No," Johnny protested immediately. "I couldn't impose like that."

"It's not an imposition. Joanne would be glad to have you."

"No, Roy. It's asking too much. And I'll be fine at home."

"I don't think your doctor is going to let you go home alone."

Dr. Frost spoke up quickly. "No, I'm not. But I'd consider letting you go home with your friend if there's someone with you at all times."

"My wife is home all day with our daughter," Roy explained. "And I work one day on and two days off so I'd be there most of the time too. And we have a ranch house so there aren't any stairs to contend with. We'd be glad to have him if it's all right with you, Doctor."

"He'd have to stay off his foot at all times. He'd only be allowed up to go to the bathroom," the doctor warned. "If he needed a glass of water or wanted a book or anything, someone would have to bring it to him. Are you willing to take on that responsibility?"

"Absolutely. And I know my wife will agree. She and the kids are very fond of Johnny. I'd probably catch five kinds of hell if I didn't bring him home," Roy added with a chuckle.

"Fine then. It's settled. You can take him home."

"Now hold on just a darn minute!" Johnny was outraged. "I never agreed to this! Roy, I'm not going to put you and Jo out like this."

"Then I'll admit you to the hospital," the doctor announced calmly.

"Roy? Come on, help me out here, would ya?"

"That's what I'm trying to do."

Johnny glared at his friend, then at the doctor, then back at Roy. They both stared back with maddening calm. "Oh, all right," he snarled, making sure they knew it was anything but. "I can see

I'm out numbered. Fine, I'll do whatever you want."

"Good." The doctor finally favored Johnny with a smile.

Roy didn't say anything. He just stood there, sipping his coffee and looking smug.

Dr. Frost pulled a prescription pad out of her pocket and began scribbling on it. "Here's something for pain." She ripped the slip off and handed it to Roy. "I'll need to see him in my office here at the hospital in about a week. Let's see, this is Saturday, isn't it? Let's say a week from Monday. Just call my office next week and set up an appointment. I think I have a card here with the number." She fished in her pocket for a moment and produced a business card. "My office and answering service numbers are on there. Don't hesitate to call if there's a problem."

"I won't," Roy assured her, tucking the card and prescription in his shirt pocket.

"I'll have the nurse come in and set you up with a splint and some crutches, Mr. Gage. As soon as they're done with you, you're free to go. Now remember, complete bed rest until I see you again in my office."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

~**~

And so Johnny found himself ensconced on the DeSoto's living room sofa for what turned out to be a very long week. Roy was good company when he was home and kept Johnny up to date on station gossip. Joanne was a kind, good-humored hostess who mothered him just enough to make him feel welcome but not enough to smother him. Eight-year-old Chris was in school all day and busy with home work and his friends but found time nearly every evening to hang out with his Uncle Johnny watching cop shows and talking baseball.

It would have actually been rather pleasant, Johnny reflected on day four of his stay, if not for

Jennifer DeSoto. Johnny was fond of the five-year-old and she practically worshipped the ground he walked on. Normally, he enjoyed her company and found her endlessly amusing. Unfortunately, Jenn had appointed herself his personal nurse, errand girl and entertainment director and she was relentless in the pursuit of her duties. She brought him snacks when he wasn't hungry, glass after glass of sickeningly sweet Kool-aid and stacks of old magazines, though why she thought he'd be interested in 'Good Housekeeping', he couldn't imagine. She perched on the floor beside him and chattered endlessly about her friends, her favorite cartoons, her dog Scruffy and the new pink dress Mommy was making her. She serenaded him several times a day with "Jesus Love the Little

Children" which she'd learned in Sunday school the previous week.

She told him knock-knock jokes and always got the punch lines wrong. They played endless games of Old Maid and Go Fish. They had at least two tea parties every day. And then there were the Barbies. Mod Barbie complete with mini skirt and go-go boots. Malibu Barbie who, for reasons Johnny couldn't begin to fathom, wore high heels to the beach. Cowgirl Barbie and her trusty horse Champion. Stewardess Barbie who sported a rather unattractive haircut courtesy of her young owner. Barbie's kid sister Skipper. Her best friend Midge. And Ken, of course. Mod Hair Ken, who came dressed in a hideous plaid blazer and had detachable facial hair. When Jenn wasn't looking Johnny stealthily stripped Ken and was horrified at what he saw … or didn't see. All in all, it was a VERY long week.

~**~

"Good morning, gentlemen. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long." Dr. Frost breezed into the exam room looking as cool and lovely as Johnny had remembered.

Roy, who'd driven Johnny to his doctor's appointment, spoke up. "We've only been here a few minutes."

"Yeah, just cooling our heels." Gage chuckled heartily at his own joke. He was the only one.

Dr. Frost was, as before, all business. She did a thorough exam of Johnny's foot and seemed pleased with the results. "The swelling is completely gone and the bruising is nearly gone as well. You've obviously done as I instructed and stayed off it."

"Oh, yeah," Johnny replied with a grin. "I had a very devoted nurse attending to my every want and desire."

"My daughter," Roy supplied in response to the doctor's raised eyebrow.

"I see. Well, whatever the reason, it's to your benefit, Mr. Gage. Did you stop by radiology on your way up and have another set of films done?"

"We did." Roy handed her the manila envelope containing the films.

Clipping them to the view box on the wall, the doctor produced a wax pencil and went through the same procedure as before: drawing lines and measuring angles. "Very good," she announced when she'd finished. "Still thirty degrees on the right and thirty-five degrees on the left. No increase in the length or width of the fracture line, no displacement of the fracture fragments. I think we're ready to move on to the next step."

"Which is a cast, right?"

"That's right, Mr. Gage. And you'll need to stay off your right foot until the fracture is completely healed; at least six weeks."

"Yeah, okay," he sighed, remembering how much he'd hated hobbling about on crutches both times he'd broken his leg.

"And when I say stay off it, I mean just that," Dr. Frost cautioned. "Absolutely no weight bearing at all. You have an incomplete fracture but your heel is still very unstable. One wrong step and the fracture could expand and become much more serious. Then we'd have no choice except to do surgery and you'd be subject to a whole host of possible complications."

"Such as?"

"Such as a flat foot, joint locking, joint fusion, shortening of the muscles in your calf, chronic heel pain, arthritis …"

"Okay, okay," Johnny held up his hands as if to ward her off. "I'll be a good boy, I promise."

"All right then, let's put your cast on and then you can go home."

"Home as in home or home as in Roy's place?" Johnny questioned as the Dr. Frost began gathering her supplies and preparing to apply the cast.

"Did you tell me you lived in an apartment?"

"Yeah."

"No stairs?"

"A couple to get into the building but that's it."

"Well, if you can manage on your own and keep your weight off your right foot, then it's fine with me if you go to your own home."

"Great! Man, it will be so nice to be back in my own place!" Johnny glanced over at his partner with a sheepish grin. "Uh, nothing personal, Roy. You and Joanne have been terrific. It's just that, well …" He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"It's just that playing Barbies with Jenn cramps your swinging bachelor lifestyle?" Roy flashed him a teasing smile

"Yeah," Johnny smiled back. "Yeah, that's it exactly.

~**~

It was great to be home. He slept in his own bed, lounged on his own sofa, didn't have to surrender the TV remote to Roy, didn't have to play with dolls, didn't have to watch Scooby Doo. Well, okay, he kind of liked Scooby Doo, but he watched it because he wanted to, not because a five-year-old did. He had a beer with lunch with out fear of recrimination; he called one of the women he'd been dating casually and invited her over for dinner ... and breakfast. It was great to be home. For about a week. And then Johnny got bored and restless. And lonely.

He couldn't drive, couldn't get far on foot and although there was a bus stop nearby getting on and off the bus on crutches was more trouble than it was worth. The guys at the station kept in touch, of course. They stopped by to visit, bringing care packages and filling him in on the latest gossip. But they had lives of their own and Johnny frequently found himself at loose ends.

It was Mrs. Pepperman, his neighbor from across the hall, who kept him sane during his long recovery. She was a sweet, spunky little woman in her seventies who reminded him a great deal of his Grandma Tilley back in Wyoming. Her husband had passed away shortly after Johnny moved into the building and her only son lived on the east coast. Johnny had taken to checking in on her from time to time, helping her with small repairs around the house, running errands for her when the weather was damp and her arthritis was acting up. She repaid him with homemade goodies and funny stories of her days as a flapper in the Roaring Twenties.

Mrs. P, as he'd taken to calling her, had been in the lobby getting her mail when Johnny returned from his week at the Desoto's. "Oh, Johnny! I wondered where you'd been these last few days! You poor, poor thing! What on Earth happened?"

When he'd explained, she'd clucked sympathetically and bustled off to make him lunch. Johnny had put up a token protest, but Mrs. P was a great cook and he was a very bad one and he'd acquiesced pretty quickly. Before he knew it, she was bringing him lunch every day, insisting it was the least she could do after all he'd done for her.

"You were such a big help when I was diagnosed with diabetes last winter, Johnny. Remember how confused I was by it all? Didn't have the first clue how to take care of myself. You came over every day and filled my syringes for me, wrote down exactly how much insulin I was supposed to take and when I was supposed to take it, you even called from work and reminded me! And when I had that low blood sugar attack and woke you up at 4:00 in the morning, you were so kind and patient! So, yes I most certainly will fix you lunch and that's all there is to it!"

"Yes, ma'am," he'd replied with a grin, digging into the homemade soup she'd set before him. "But only if you bring enough for two and eat with me."

And so, every weekday afternoon found Johnny and Mrs. P eating off of TV trays and watching soap operas. Much to his amazement, Johnny enjoyed it. The good company, the good food and, though he'd rather have died than admit it, the romantic trials and tribulations on "Search for Tomorrow". He told himself he only watched out of consideration to Mrs. P and because the dark haired girl who played Wendy Wilkins was a real looker, but deep down, Johnny knew he was kidding himself. He was hooked on the damn show, plain and simple.

~**~

Just over a month into Johnny's convalescence, Mrs. Pepperman's son Neil and his family came to visit. During their stay, Gage found himself the guest at more than one boisterous family dinner. Mrs. P's three grandchildren were fascinated with the injured fireman who lived across the hall. The eldest, thirteen-year-old Kelly showed all the signs of a major crush, blushing uncontrollably if he spoke to her and darting glances at him from behind the curtain of her long, brown hair when she thought he wasn't looking.

On Sunday, the last day of their visit, the family decided to hold a picnic on the small lawn that bordered the side of the apartment building. Johnny had been invited but declined. The previous day had been rainy and the narrow stretch of ground was slick and soggy, a veritable minefield to someone on crutches.

Kelly, red-faced and stammering, brought him a plate heaped with food and a sweating glass of homemade lemonade, bobbed her head in response to his thanks and fled the apartment. Johnny settled himself in front of the TV, his injured leg propped on a footstool and the plate balanced on his knee. He was plowing through his meal with relish and deeply engrossed in a college football game when he heard a commotion outside. He muted the TV for a moment and listened intently. Nothing. Probably Mrs. P's grandchildren playing, he decided and turned the volume back up.

Less than a minute later, Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin when someone pounded on his front door and shouted his name. "It's open," he called in response.

The door flew open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. Johnny was about to protest when he got a good look at his visitor. It was Linda, Mrs. Pepperman's daughter-in-law, and she looked positively frantic. He was up out of the chair and grabbing for his crutches in a flash.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Mom. She's choking! Neil's pounding on her back but it's not working! She's not getting any air! Please, Johnny, you have to help us!"

He pointed Linda toward the phone and directed her to call for help, then headed for the side yard as rapidly as he could, cursing his crutches and the bulky cast on his leg with every step. He reached the front stoop just in time to see Mrs. P sag in her son's arms and crumple to the ground. Without so much as a second's hesitation, Johnny dropped the crutches and ran, as best he could, down the steps, through the parking lot that encircled the building and across the lawn to her side.

"She was fine! She was laughing and talking and then she just ... she got quiet ... I didn't even notice at first! I tried to help her! I just ... I didn't...." Neil was babbling hysterically.

"It's okay, Neil," Johnny was frantic himself but did his best to keep his voice low and soothing.

"Now step back and let me check her out, okay?"

Johnny lowered himself awkwardly to the ground and did a quick assessment. His neighbor was unconscious, her lips and fingernails were tinged with blue and she wasn't breathing. "Air way obstruction," he muttered to himself. He checked her mouth carefully for foreign bodies and found nothing. Straddling her thighs, Gage placed the heel of his left hand on her abdomen, just above her naval, and covered that hand with the other. Locking his elbows, he pressed sharply down and forward. There was no change in Mrs. Pepperman's condition so he repeated the process several more times.

"What are you doing?" Neil was tugging at Johnny's shoulder, trying to pull him away.

"Heimlich maneuver," the paramedic grunted between thrusts. "Trying to dislodge whatever's in her throat." When Neil grabbed at him again, Johnny stopped and shoved the other man away forcefully.

"Get back," he said sharply. "I know what I'm doing."

Leaning forward, he checked Mrs. P's mouth again, both visually and by carefully sweeping a finger across the back of her throat. Again, there was no sign of whatever was obstructing her breathing.

Another round of thrusts and another mouth sweep produced the same results.

Johnny brushed impatiently at the sweat beading his forehead. "How long has it been?" he asked.

Neil, who had stumbled back a few paces and now stood embracing his sobbing children, stared back at Johnny with a dazed expression. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"She's not dead!" Johnny snapped, trying to break through the shock that had settled over his neighbor's son. "How long has it been, Neil? NEIL! Answer me! How long?"

"I don't ... uh ... " Neil shook his head and seemed to gather his wits about him. "Three or four minutes maybe. I'm not sure."

"Too long," Johnny muttered to himself. He knew that after five minutes without oxygen, brain damage begins to occur. They'd had run out of time and he knew it. "I need a knife." He scanned the picnic table, straining to see from his kneeling position.

"A knife?" Neil stared at him numbly. "What for?"

"I don't have time to explain, just get me a knife. The sharpest one you can find. Now!"

Neil scrambled for the table, searching frantically. "There's nothing here," he wailed.

"Do you have a pocket knife?"

"Yeah, I think so. Yes!" He produced it triumphantly and Johnny snatched it from his hand.

"Now, I need a straw or a ball point pen. Something hollow."

Neil pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. "Will this work?"

"Yeah." Johnny unscrewed the pen, tipped the ink tube out onto the grass and stuck the now hollow cylinder in his own shirt pocket. "Take your kids and get out of here, Neil. You don't need to see this."

"What are you going to do?"

"GO!" Johnny roared.

Neil took one look at the knife in the paramedic's hand; the blade poised a half-inch from his mother's throat, and obeyed.

The family had barely turned their backs before Johnny pressed the blade to the woman's throat and began to cut. He worked quickly but carefully, making a two-inch long, half-inch deep incision through the delicate tissue and into the trachea. Blood welled from the wound and he brushed it away with his fingers. Tossing the knife away, Johnny pinched the incision open with one hand and groped in his shirt pocket with the other. He carefully placed the hollow tube of the pen into the wound, pushing it in about an inch deep. Holding it in place, he leaned forward and blew two quick breaths into the tube.

"Yes!" he murmured as he watched Mrs. Pepperman's chest rise and fall. She was getting oxygen.

He kept up the procedure, breathing into the tube every few seconds and watching closely as the terrible blue tinge faded from his patient's face. After a few seconds, air whistled in and out of the tube without his assistance. She was breathing on her own. Johnny closed his eyes briefly and whispered a prayer of thanks when he heard the sirens that announced the arrival of Squad 36.

When he opened his eyes, his patient was gazing back at him.

"Hey, Mrs. P," he said softly. "You just relax, okay? The ambulance is here and you're gonna be just fine."

~**~

"Hey, Gage, I'm about ready to head out. You want to catch a ride?" Dave Cole, one of 36s' paramedics, packed away the last of his supplies and slammed the squad's storage compartment shut.

"Nah, I think I'll just stay here." Johnny heaved himself off the sodden ground and looked around for his crutches. The adrenaline rush was over and now he was exhausted. And hungry. He'd never gotten to finish his lunch. "Mrs. P's in good hands at Rampart and her family followed the ambulance to the hospital. There's nothing more I can do."

"Yeah, but don't you think you should get that taken care of?" Cole gestured toward the other man's feet.

"Huh?" Johnny looked down. "Oh, damn." The cast on his right leg was cracked and misshapen. Bracing himself on the edge of the picnic table, Johnny lifted his foot and prodded cautiously at the bottom of the cast. It was soft and spongy. "Oh, damn," he said again.

"Looks like it needs to be replaced," Cole observed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Johnny tried to picture Dr. Frost's reaction when she saw the damage he'd inflicted. He remembered how she'd told him in no uncertain terms to bear absolutely no weight on his right foot until the fracture was completely healed. "I'm in soooo much trouble," he sighed.

"Par for the course with you, Gage." Cole looped an arm around Johnny's shoulders and helped him toward the waiting squad.

~**~

Dixie turned off the cast saw and gently pried the battered cast off Johnny's leg. "Oh, dear," she murmured as his foot came into view.

"What?" Johnny pushed himself up onto his elbows, straining to see. His lower leg was pale, the skin cracked and scaly, as was to be expected after three weeks in a cast. What he didn't expect to see was the tremendous amount of swelling that was present in his right heel.

"Oh, shit."

"I'd have to agree with that assessment." Dr. Frost stood in the doorway and she looked anything but pleased. "What on Earth have you done, Mr. Gage?"

"Well, um, I sort of, uh..."

"You walked on it didn't you? After I specifically told you not to."

"Yes, but..."

The doctor turned to Dixie, cutting Johnny off dead. "Send him to x-ray. I need a lateral and an axial of both heels and tomograms of the right heel. Page me when he's done." And with that she was gone.

"And I thought Mike Morton had a bad bedside manner," Johnny muttered.

Dixie patted his hand and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't take it personally, Johnny. She's like that with everyone. Now sit tight for a minute while I get a wheelchair and we'll get you over to x-ray, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Johnny stared dejectedly at his foot while he waited. It was beginning to throb and visions of surgery and a long, unpleasant recovery period spooled through his mind like a bad movie.

~**~

For the third time in less than six weeks, Johnny found himself impatiently watching Dr. Frost draw lines and calculate angles. "In spite of your blatant disregard for my instructions, you seem to have gotten lucky, Mr. Gage."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning the fracture has not been displaced at all."

"So no surgery?"

"No." Johnny started to heave a sigh of relief but paused when the doctor held up her hand. "However, your little escapade does complicate things. I can't replace the cast until the swelling in your heel is gone. That means another week of bed rest, ice and elevation."

Johnny buried his face in his hands. "Great," he groaned unhappily.

"If you'd followed my instructions..."

"Hey, give me a break, would you?" Johnny had had enough. "It's not like I went jogging, for crying out loud! It was an emergency. I had no choice!"

"An emergency?" Dr. Frost stared at him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows raised skeptically.

"Yes, Doctor. An emergency," he snarled back. "I'm a paramedic, in case you've forgotten and when

I see someone who needs my help, I can't just stand there and do nothing!" He was just getting geared up for a good, long rant when a tap on the door interrupted him.

"There's the man of the hour." Kelly Brackett walked into the room with a smile on his face. "Hi

Sharon," he greeted Dr. Frost who nodded silently in response. "Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to have a word with our budding surgeon here."

Dr. Frost's eyebrows climbed higher.

"Thought you might like to see this, Johnny." Brackett pulled a plastic specimen bottle out of his pocket and held it up to the light.

The paramedic whistled when he saw the size of the partially chewed piece of hot dog it contained.

"Mrs.Pepperman and I are going to have a long talk about taking smaller bites."

"Oh, don't worry. I think her son has already taken care of that," Brackett replied with a grin.

"How's she doing? She's gonna be okay, right Doc?"

"Thanks to you, she is. You did a good job today, John. That was one of the nicest tracheotomies

I've ever seen. You could give some of our surgeons a run for their money. I can't believe you did it in the field with a pocketknife! And according to Dave Cole you had to cover what? Twenty yards of asphalt and wet grass to get there? And on a broken foot." Kel shook his head in amazement.

"Yeah, well," Johnny shrugged and cast a sidelong glance toward Dr. Frost. "You do what you gotta do."

"Well, I'd say this one was above and beyond the call of duty." Brackett tucked the specimen bottle back in his pocket and offered Johnny his hand. "Good work, Johnny. Very good work."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Sharon, you take good care of this guy," Brackett admonished cheerfully as he left the room. "He saved someone's life today."

Johnny found a certain amount of satisfaction in the fact that Dr. Frost seemed to have a great deal of trouble looking him in the eye for the remainder of their consultation. He supposed it was the closest thing to an apology he'd ever get from her. But somehow, it was enough.

~**~

Much to Johnny's dismay and Jennifer's delight, he was forced to spend another week on the DeSoto's sofa. The strict regimen of ice, elevation and anti-inflammatory medication had his heel feeling better in no time. When he went back to Dr. Frost's office for a follow-up, she was so nice to him it actually set his teeth on edge. Another series of x-rays revealed that not only had his fracture remained stable, it had continued to heal and was now barely visible.

"In fact," the doctor informed him, "I think it would be safe to put you in a walking cast at this point."

"For how long?"

"Two weeks, then we'll get another set of x-rays and re-evaluate. But, if you can avoid any further rescue missions," here she actually smiled. Was it possible that frosty Dr. Frost had a sense of humor? "I suspect you'll be able to resume weight bearing with the aide of an orthotic shoe insert."

Johnny wanted nothing more than to jump off the exam table and perform an impromptu victory dance. He settled for a fervent, "All right!" instead.

~**~

For the second time in just over a month, Johnny packed his things, kissed Joanne and Jenn good-bye and climbed into the front seat of Roy's car with a sigh of relief.

"I'd take that personally, you know," DeSoto commented with a smile, "but I know how 'helpful' my daughter can be whenever someone is sick."

They made the short drive to Johnny's apartment and arrived just in time to see Mrs. Pepperman walking up the front steps, leaning on her son's arm. There was a small, gauze bandage taped to her throat but otherwise she looked no worse for the wear. Johnny, who hadn't seen her since the day he'd been forced to perform the tracheotomy, was out of the car almost before it had rolled to a stop.

"Mrs. P!" He hobbled up the steps as quickly as the bulky walking cast would allow.

She was waiting for him at the top, her arms open and her face awash with tears. "Oh, Johnny!" Her voice was raspy and weak, but the embrace she gave him was strong. "Oh, Johnny," she said again, clinging to him and sobbing for a long minute. Finally, she loosened her grip and took a half step back to look him in the eye. "Thank you," she rasped. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." Johnny dug a handkerchief out of his hip pocket and handed it to her. She flushed charmingly and put it to use, tucking it into her sleeve when she was done. Johnny smiled, reminded once again of Grandma Tilley who could always be counted on to have a handkerchief stuck up her sleeve or in her brassiere. "I'm so glad to see you. I'd have come to visit you in the hospital but this darn foot of mine had me laid up."

Mrs. Pepperman nodded. "Neil told me. You're going to be okay, aren't you Johnny? You didn't hurt yourself helping me, did you?"

"I'm going to be fine," he reassured her. "I just had a bunch of x-rays and saw my doctor this morning. She gave me a very good report. I have to wear this walking cast for a couple weeks and take it easy for a couple more and then I'll be good as new."

"Oh, thank goodness. I'd have never forgiven myself if you'd been hurt because of my foolishness."

"Now, Mrs. P, it was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thanks to you, I'm going to be just fine." She threw her arms around him and gave him another fierce hug. "Now come inside, Johnny, and tell me everything that happened, won't you? I've asked and asked Neil but he just gets green around the gills and changes the subject. Is it true you cut me open with a pocket knife?"

"Well, uh, yeah," he admitted reluctantly.

"Oh, you clever, clever boy! How did you know to do that? Do they teach that in paramedic school?" She tucked her hand through his arm and led him inside.

Neil and Roy, who were left standing on the front stoop, apparently forgotten, exchanged an amused glance. "So is it just my mother," Neil inquired, "or does every woman he meets want to hug the stuffing out of him?"

"Old ladies and little girls," Roy replied with a grin. "He doesn't do nearly as well with the ones in between. Though not for lack of trying."

~**~

The next two weeks went by more quickly than Johnny thought they would. Neil, who had stayed in

L.A. while his mother was hospitalized, flew back home to rejoin his family and the two convalescents looked out for each other. Mrs. Pepperman was restricted to a liquid diet until her throat was completely healed and Johnny, though more mobile, still couldn't get around like he wanted to. Luckily, there was a deli less than a block away that served delicious home made soup and it quickly became a standing date. They walked to Bernstein's for lunch than came back to one or the other's apartment to watch their 'stories' as Mrs. P called them.

"I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow," Johnny had had his walking cast removed that morning and was due back to work on limited duty the following day. "I'm stuck working in dispatch for the next two weeks until I'm cleared for active duty again."

"I thought you were eager to go back to work, dear."

"I am, I am. But I'm going to miss you, Mrs. P."

"Sweet talker," she chided.

"Well, I am. And there's no TV at the dispatch center. That means no 'Search for Tomorrow'. Even when I go back to the station I won't be able to watch it. The guys would never let me live it down.

How am I going to get through the day without my daily dose of Wendy?"

"I think I know just how to solve your problem!" Mrs. Pepperman rummaged through the pile of magazines on her coffee table. "Here you go!"

Johnny took the glossy magazine she handed him and stared at it curiously. "Soap Opera Weekly? I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Oh, yes. I get it at the grocery store every week. It gives you a little summary of what's happening on all the stories in case you miss one and there are all sorts of interviews and pictures and such. I think you might be interested in page twenty-four."

Johnny flipped through the pages quickly. "Wendy!"

"You just tear that out, dear, and pin it up in your locker."

"I'll do that," he said with a grin. "Thanks, Mrs. P. You're the best."

"You're very welcome." She patted his arm and turned back to the television.

"Hey, Mrs. P?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can you picture Wendy and I together?" He held the magazine, still open to the actress's image, next to his own face.

Mrs. Pepperman looked from Johnny to the picture and back again. "You do make a cute couple," she admitted.

"Too bad I'm not a soap opera star instead of a paramedic, huh?"

"Personally, I'm very glad you're a paramedic," Mrs. P replied with a smile "Oh, 'Days of Our Lives' is starting! I wonder if Marlena will be on today?"

Johnny slouched down in his chair and propped his feet up on the ottoman. "Only one way to find out, Mrs. P. Only one way to find out."

~**~

John Gage had a spring in his step and a smile on his face as he bounded into the locker room on his first day back on active duty. "Morning, Roy!

"You're in a good mood this morning," the older man observed.

"Yeah, well, my first day back and all. No more dispatch and thank God cause I was going stir crazy in that little room. And it's a glorious day!"

"Actually, it looks like rain."

"Does it? I didn't notice." Johnny opened his locker, lifted one corner of his Smokey the Bear poster for a surreptitious peak at Wendy, who he'd taped up underneath during a recent visit to the station, and began to change into his uniform.

Roy stared at his partner through narrowed eyes. "What's with you?"

"Me?" Johnny gave Roy his very best innocent look. "Not a thing. Just happy to be healthy and back at work, that's all."

Roy snorted in disbelief. "What's her name, Johnny?"

"Now why do you think that just because I'm in a good mood it has something to do with a woman?"

"What's her name?"

"Sharon," Johnny conceded with a grin. "Man, Roy, you can't always trust first impressions. She's nothing like we thought she was. I took her to that little Italian place near the hospital and then she invited me back to her apartment for a nightcap. We ended up talking until 1:00 in the morning."

"What do you mean she's nothing like WE thought she was?" Roy was clearly puzzled. "I don't know anyone named Sharon."

"Sure you do."

"No, Johnny, I don't."

"Roy, you've driven me to her office how many times in the last couple months. I know the two of you never really talked much but …"

"Sharon Frost?!" Roy stared at his partner in amazement. "You mean Sharon Frost as in Dr. Sharon

Frost?!"

"Yeah. I called her up the other day and asked her out and she said yes."

"You called her up and asked her out?"

"Yeah."

"Just called her up and asked her out?"

"Yes, Roy," Johnny replied with exaggerated patience. "I picked up the phone, I called her up and I asked her out. Why is this so hard for you to understand?"

"Because you hate her!" Roy shrieked. "You called her Frosty the Snow Woman!"

"Yeah, but Roy, that was before I got to know her. She's really a sweet girl if you give her a chance."

"She treated you like crap!"

"Yeah, sort of, I guess. But that's all in the past now," Johnny replied earnestly. "See, it turns out she went through a nasty divorce last year. And, to top it off, her ex-husband was a fireman up in

Sacramento. She had a chip on her shoulder when it came to men in general and firemen in particular.

But after that thing with Mrs. Pepperman, I guess she just saw me in a new light. Anyway, we'regoing out again this weekend."

Roy shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"What's so unbelievable? She's a gorgeous girl. We both work in medicine. Turns out we both like the outdoors.. It's a match made in heaven."

"Johnny, you take the cake! If anyone else had fallen off that ladder, they'd wind up with a broken neck. You fall off a ladder and end up not only saving your neighbor's life but getting yourself a girlfriend. I will never understand this weird luck of yours."

"The best bad luck," Johnny said with a grin.

"Huh?"

"Something Dixie told me recently. I've got the best bad luck of anyone she's ever known."

"The best bad luck," Roy said thoughtfully. "You know, I think she might be on to something."

"I think she might," Johnny said agreeably. "Come on, Partner. Roll call in two minutes. Let's get to work."

The End