Disclaimer:  Nothing pertaining to Emergency belongs to me.  I wish it did, but I’m not that lucky.  I do appreciate that Mark VII and Universal allow me to play with their toys, and I really do try to put them back together after I’m done breaking them.  Poor Johnny…

Chopsticks

By morningwolf

Even those who work to prevent something bad,

Can be hurt or damaged by it.  –Chinese proverb

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Roy looked over at his partner who was slumped in the passenger seat, his eyes closed.

“Roy, I told you before.  It’s just a cold.  I swear, sometimes I think you worry more about nothing than anything else.  Like the time that plane went into that apartment building.  I almost bought it that time, and all you could do was make jokes.  So, today I’ve been a little under the weather, and you’re ready to run me into Rampart…geez.”  Johnny went from half asleep to full out rant mode in seconds.

“I wasn’t talking about your cold.  I was talking about all that smoke you just ate.”  The station had just finished up on a response to a fire at a warehouse near Chinatown that stored decorations and various novelties for several of the businesses there.  The two paramedics had been inside doing a sweep when one of the large metal shelves buckled, causing its contents to fall to the floor.  Johnny had been standing near the shelf when it happened, and barely escaped injury.  However, a large box clipped the regulator on his air tank, causing it to malfunction.  He had managed to inhale several lungfuls of thick smoke before exiting the building.  Roy had insisted on some oxygen, but after a few seconds, Johnny pushed it away, insisting that he was all right.  Now Roy wasn’t so sure.  Johnny’s voice was hoarse, but that could have been from his cold.  And he looked exhausted, but probably no more than anyone else did after working a large fire for the past several hours.

Johnny sighed and sat up straighter in the cab.  In truth, he felt miserable.  His whole body ached and his chest burned slightly whenever he inhaled, making him feel like coughing.  He was chilly in spite of the fact that he had just spent the past few hours near the searing heat of a fire, and he felt a little nauseous.  He wanted nothing more than to get a shower and curl up in his bunk until morning, but he knew if he let on that he was feeling that bad, Cap would send him home.   He could wait out the rest of the shift, he knew he could.  It was nearly nine o’clock already.  Johnny silently wished for a slow night.  “Oh, for crying out loud, Roy.  I didn’t eat that much smoke.  I just…look could we just stop talking about this?  You’re giving me a headache.”

Roy sighed, wondering if Johnny realized he had just driven home the point.  But, he said nothing, having learned over the years not to push the younger man when he got like this.  No, it was best to just let him go and keep an eye on him.  After all, both of Roy’s kids had colds.  There was something going around.  Maybe that’s all it was.

The squad pulled in and Johnny slid out.  “Dibs on the shower.”  He was heading for the locker room before Roy had a chance to protest.

“Okay…guess I’ll uh…go get started on dinner.”

“Good deal.”  Johnny uttered softly as he made his way to the latrine.

i i i

Johnny pulled his covers tightly around his shoulders, wondering why Cap had turned the air conditioner on full blast.  As awareness returned, and he drifted farther away from sleep, he realized it wasn’t air conditioning that had him chilled to the bone.  He was sick, miserably sick.  Probably the flu, Johnny thought as he allowed the tickle in his chest to erupt into a full blown bout of coughing.  Knowing now that sleep would not return easily, and not wanting to keep the rest of the guys awake, Johnny decided to go out and try to sleep on the couch in the dayroom.  The only problem was, he would have to get out of bed to do it.  Laboriously, he hauled himself up to a sitting position, resting his feet on the floor.  The room tilted slightly and he felt nausea creeping up the back of his throat.  While waiting for it to pass, he heard Roy’s whisper.

“You all right?”

“Yeah…yeah.  Just gotta use the bathroom, that’s all.  Go back to sleep.”  Johnny’s reply seemed to satisfy his partner, and he watched as he rolled over and returned to slumber.  With great effort, Johnny lifted each leg into his boots and bunkers then he stood and fastened the snaps on the pants, not bothering with the suspenders.  Then he yanked the blanket off the bed, and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders before quietly padding out of the dorm and across the bay into the dayroom.  There, Johnny laid down on his left side on the couch, facing the back.  He pulled the blanket snug around his shivering form and curled up as much as he could, feeling as though he wanted to melt into the soft, black leather.  He prayed for a quiet night as each minute that ticked by seemed to bring with it more misery.  If they got a call now, he would be in trouble.  He was not fit to work, and he knew he should let Cap know.  But, he didn’t have the energy anymore to get up or even call for him.  Instead, he pulled the blanket closer as he coughed, trying to ignore the increasing tightness in his chest.

i i i

Cap rubbed his eyes which had been rendered bleary from the strain of staring at paperwork.  Finally calling it quits for the night, he rose from his chair and stretched.  Deciding on a glass of milk before he hit the sack, he pushed open the door to the day room and was surprised to see a shaggy mop of dark hair peeking out from beneath a blanket on the couch.  He sighed and shook his head.  The paramedic had been slightly off all day, and then there was the matter of that smoke inhalation at the fire.  Johnny had barely eaten anything at dinner, and Cap had expressed his concerns about it, to both him and Roy.  Johnny had insisted it was a cold, and neither Cap nor Roy had pushed him on it on the understanding that the shift was nearly over.  Figuring Johnny had come out here because he didn’t want to disturb the others, he left him alone, and headed toward the refrigerator.  He was stopped by an ominous sound.

Johnny was not aware Cap had entered the room.  Over the past hour, his condition had grown steadily worse.  His chest burned with a fiery intensity, and his earlier body aches had settled deep into his back and legs.  When he wasn’t coughing he was trying desperately to draw air into his lungs, which wasn’t easy considering how they seemed to be getting stiffer and tighter by the second.  He knew he needed help, but as lack of adequate oxygen dulled his senses, and the effort of breathing further exhausted him, he found he couldn’t pull himself up off the couch even if he tried.

As soon as Cap noticed the harsh wheezing sounds coming from his junior paramedic, he knew something was seriously wrong.  This was more than a cold.  Simultaneously admonishing himself for not insisting Johnny be checked out at Rampart after the fire and breathing a sigh of relief he hadn’t sent him home where he would have been alone, he moved to the couch and knelt down, placing a hand on Johnny’s back.  The younger man was shivering despite the heat emanating from his body and he was struggling to breathe.  “John, what’s wrong?”

Johnny opened his eyes at the sensation of a hand on his back and the sound of his superior’s voice, but speaking was too difficult.  “Can’t…”

Cap moved a hand to Johnny’s forehead, moving the sweat drenched locks out of the way.  Burning up.  He was reminded of another fever a few years back, and quickly shook off a chill of his own.  “I’m going to go get Roy.  Just hang in there a minute, pal.” Cap stopped briefly at the radio on his way to the dorm.  “LA, station 51.  We have a still alarm at the station.  Firefighter down.  Station 51 is not available.  Repeat.  Still alarm at the station.  Station 51 is not available.  Respond an ambulance to our location.”  After receiving confirmation from Sam that his message had been received, Cap made his way to Roy’s bed, and knelt down, shaking him gently but urgently.  “Roy, wake up.”

Roy rolled over and blinked wearily at his captain.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s John.  Better come quick.”

Roy glanced over at the empty bed beside his and instantly revived.  Adrenaline kicking in, he had his bunkers in place in record time and he followed Cap out of the dorm, stopping at the squad to gather equipment.  “What’s wrong with him, Cap?  Is he sick?”

“He’s having a lot of trouble breathing.  Feels like he has a pretty high fever too.”

Roy knew without asking that Cap had already called for an ambulance, so he quickly entered the day room.  Johnny’s labored attempts at breathing could be heard across the room.  Roy dropped to his friend’s side and began unfurling the oxygen tubing.  “Johnny, you’re gonna be okay.  I’m gonna get some oxygen on you.”  He turned the cylinder on high flow and leaned over his partner who was still on his side, facing away from him.

“Roy…can’t…” Johnny gasped out, causing him to cough painfully.

“Don’t try to talk, Johnny.”  Roy fitted the mask over his face.  “Just use the oxygen.  Breathe…”  Roy took a moment to complete a brief assessment.  Johnny was perspiring heavily and was flushed despite his apparent oxygen deprived state.  His skin felt like it was on fire, yet he continued to shiver beneath the tightly drawn blanket.  When Roy tried moving the blanket down in order to get started on some vital signs, Johnny pulled it even closer.

“Cold…”

“Well you may feel cold, Johnny, but actually you’re pretty warm.  I just need to unwrap you a little to get some vitals, okay?”

Too weak to fight, Johnny allowed Roy to pull one arm from under the covers.  He was only slightly aware of the squeezing of the blood pressure cuff.  “Chest…burns…”

Roy leaned closer to hear.  “What, Johnny?”

Johnny swallowed hard, and struggled to speak.  “Chest…burns…and…”  He coughed weakly.  “Back…legs…”  Johnny’s words were cut off by an explosive bout of coughing.  Pain tore through his chest as each attempt at inhaling caused him to gag and cough more forcefully.

“Let’s get him up.”  Roy helped Johnny sit up while Cap grabbed some cushions off the chair to place behind his back. 

Johnny’s eyes began to water as he hacked painfully.  He smelled the familiar scent of gauze, and realized Roy was holding a sterile pad to his mouth, encouraging him to spit into it.  He kept his eyes closed as the soft material brushed over his lips and disappeared.  Then, his eyes flew open and he gasped ineffectively.  His lungs felt paralyzed and panic began to take hold as he struggled to draw a breath.

Roy replaced the oxygen mask.  “C’mon, Johnny.  Take a breath.  C’mon.”

Johnny’s fingers grasped Roy’s forearm, and after several torturous seconds, he was able to draw in a wheezing breath.  His lungs felt as if someone were squeezing them in a vice.

“That’s it…”  Roy looked over his shoulder at Cap who was kneeling nearby.  “Can you open a line to Rampart?”  He slid a thermometer under Johnny’s arm after ascertaining that his breathing difficulties would make it challenging to keep one under his tongue.

“Sure.”  Cap switched on the biophone.  “Rampart, this is County 51.  Do you read?”

“We read you loud and clear, 51.”  Joe Early’s kind voice sounded loud in the quiet station.

“Rampart, we have a paramedic down at the station.  He’s having trouble breathing.  Stand by for vitals.”  Cap released the talk button and looked at Roy expectantly.

“Pulse is 110, respirations are 36 and labored.  BP is 142 over 94.”  Roy turned his attention back to his partner, sliding his stethoscope under his T-shirt to check his lung sounds.

Cap keyed the receiver and relayed the vital signs to Rampart then handed it to Roy before helping Johnny pull the discarded blanket up over his shivering form.

“Rampart, the patient has been exhibiting cold or flu symptoms most of the day, including fatigue, headache, nausea, and cough.  A few hours ago, he inhaled some smoke at a structure fire.  He is currently flushed and diaphoretic and in considerable respiratory distress.  There is audible inspiratory and expiratory wheezing and bilateral rales can be heard on auscultation.  Cough produces frothy, pink sputum.  He is febrile with severe chills.  He’s complaining of pain in his back and legs and a burning sensation in his chest.  Stand by for a temp.”  Roy looked over at Cap who was holding Johnny’s arm firmly against his body. 

After a moment, Cap withdrew the thermometer and held it up to the light to read it.  “Looks like 103…”  He handed it to Roy.  “You better check to be sure.”

Roy accepted the instrument and sighed in agreement before re-keying the receiver.  “Rampart, patient’s axillary temperature is 103.2.”  He chewed on his lip, knowing that Dr. Early was adding on the obligatory degree for an axillary reading which would put Johnny’s fever over 104 degrees.  “We have the patient propped up and he’s on 15 liters of O2.  He seems to be experiencing only marginal relief.”

Early absentmindedly scratched at his nose.  “51, has the ambulance arrived?”

“Negative, Rampart, but it’s on the way.”  Roy watched anxiously as Cap stood up and walked outside.

“What kind of a structure fire was it?  Any unusual chemicals or noxious fumes?”  Joe was trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle.  It didn’t quite sound like bacterial pneumonia, nor did it sound like a simple case of smoke inhalation.

“Not that we’re aware of, Rampart.  The fire was at a warehouse full of mostly paper products.”

“10-4, 51.  Go ahead and administer albuterol through a nebulizer.  Switch to humidified O2 and let me know how he responds.  Also, start an IV with D5W TKO.”

“10-4, Rampart.  IV D5W TKO, humidified O2 and albuterol.”  Roy replaced the receiver and went to work, keeping a trained eye on his friend for signs of increased respiratory distress.  It was apparent Johnny was tiring, and Roy knew if he didn’t reverse the hypoxia now, he would soon quit making an effort to breathe on his own.  “Hang in there, Johnny.”  He spoke as he attached the nebulizer to Johnny’s mask.  “Here you go…let’s see if this helps.  Try taking some deeper breaths…”

Johnny gagged at the taste of the bitter medication, but its effect on his swollen airways brought some relief.  He relaxed slightly against the cushions behind his back, wincing only a little when the IV needle pierced his skin.  A moment later, he felt his boots being removed and then Roy was right next to his face, talking.

“Hey, Johnny.  How about if we take your bunkers off before we put you on the gurney?  You’ll be more comfortable…”

“No…cold…”

Roy smiled slightly.  “You can have as many blankets as you want.”  It only made sense.  He knew that if Johnny kept his bunkers on, they would only be cut off at the hospital, causing him to complain about it later when he was more coherent.  Besides, the bunkers would trap a lot of heat inside Johnny’s feverish body.

“’Kay…”  Johnny felt too weak to offer much assistance as the bulky pants were shrugged off his legs.  Then he felt hands lifting him onto the waiting litter and blankets being placed over him as the aching in his lower body became more intense.  He found himself wondering if there were more blankets in the ambulance as he concentrated on drawing air into his irritated lungs.  He had experienced pneumonia before, and he had experienced smoke inhalation before, but never had either felt quite like this.  His chest burned with a fiery sensation that was difficult to put into words.

Cap gave Johnny’s leg a gentle squeeze through the layered blankets.  “Take it easy, pal.  I’ll stop in and check on you in the morning.”

Johnny forced his eyes open and he tried to offer his captain a smile, but instead settled on a slight nod.

Cap followed the procession out to the parking lot where the ambulance was parked.  “Roy, I’ll see if I can stand you down for the rest of the night.  Give me a call from the hospital.”

“Right, Cap.”  Roy looked up into the concerned eyes of his superior, knowing his last statement meant he wanted an update on how Johnny was doing, and not simply a check to see if he would need to return to the station.  Roy placed his equipment into the ambulance as Cap helped the attendants with the stretcher.  Then he hopped in the back and immediately began reassessing Johnny’s condition.

Johnny shivered underneath his two blankets.  In his fever hazed state, he wondered if Roy had read the thermometer right.  There was just no way he could be that warm when he felt this cold.  Surely, ice crystals were forming in his bloodstream at this very moment.

“I just need one arm for a vitals check.”  Roy slid Johnny’s left arm out from under its protective cocoon.  Johnny’s pulse continued to race, and although the albuterol seemed to be helping, his respirations were still noisy, fast, and punctuated by occasional moans of discomfort.  His BP was elevated, but not dangerously so.  As Roy sat back and watched his friend’s legs shift beneath the covers, he mentally went over the fire they had battled earlier.  What had been inside the boxes?  Paper lanterns…chopsticks…fortune cookies…nothing that could cause the kind of respiratory symptoms Johnny was experiencing.  And then there was the fever and other symptoms.  Roy looked down into the questioning eyes of his partner.  “Everything’s still a little elevated.  And I don’t have to ask you how you feel.  Anything else going on I should know about?”

At this point, Johnny couldn’t remember what he had told Roy and what he hadn’t.  The only time in his life he could ever remember feeling this bad was when he had picked up that crazy monkey virus, but even then, he had been able to breathe.  Right now he was having trouble getting past the scorching sensation that started in his chest and wrapped around to his back, each intake of oxygen seeming to stoke the fire hotter.  “Lungs…burn…”  As soon as Johnny began to talk, he immediately regretted it as it set off another round of painful hacking.

Roy removed the mask and helped his patient to lean forward, holding an emesis basin under his chin.  The paramedic in him knew it was important for Johnny to clear his airway, but the friend was alarmed at the amount and color of the frothy substance.  He tried to keep his voice calm and unwavering as he watched Johnny shake his head and grip the gurney railing white knuckled, tried not to wince when he heard him gasp and moan painfully in between coughs.  When he was finally finished, Roy helped him settle back against the pillow and tucked the blanket around him.  He removed the nebulizer from the oxygen mask and placed it back over Johnny’s face.  Maybe it was from the coughing, but it seemed like Johnny’s breathing was becoming more labored again.  “Johnny, you still with me?”

Johnny heard Roy’s question, but took his time answering, trying to get enough breath to form a reply.  “Yeah…feel…awful…”

“I know you do.”  Roy smoothed the soaked bangs out of Johnny’s eyes.  “We’re almost there.  I’m gonna get your temp again quick, okay?”

Johnny said nothing, but offered his arm weakly.  He hoped Roy would correctly interpret his action, as the thought of holding a thermometer under his tongue right now caused his stomach to twist and roil.  And despite feeling as though he didn’t have the strength to squash a fly, he knew he would somehow find the energy to put up a hell of a fight if Roy chose the other viable option.  He felt the cool tip of the thermometer under his arm, felt his friend’s hands, as he concentrated on breathing.  When Roy removed the thermometer without saying anything, he knew his fever was high, but he didn’t want to risk another coughing spell, so he said nothing.

Roy squeezed Johnny’s hand.  “We’re here.”

Johnny kept his eyes closed as his stretcher was wheeled rapidly down the hall.  He could hear Joe Early’s voice asking questions, and Roy’s voice answering, but he could no longer bring himself to care much about the conversation.  He limply allowed himself to be transferred onto the table, and he shivered violently when the blankets were pulled down and he felt Joe’s cold stethoscope against his chest.

Joe listened for several minutes before relaying his orders to the nurse.  “Draw blood for a CBC, ABG, electrolytes, and tox screen.  I’ll need blood and sputum cultures.  Let’s get a chest X-ray as well as liver and lung function studies.  Start a foley and get a UA.  Roy, let’s get an EKG started.”  The doctor leaned over his patient.  “Johnny?  Can you open your eyes for a minute?”

With herculean effort, Johnny peeled his eyes open and squinted up at the kind, familiar face. 

“I want you to think hard.  Did you have any pain in your chest, or any difficulty breathing before the fire?”

Johnny remembered not feeling well all day, and there were a host of symptoms he was having trouble sorting out in his clouded attempts at self assessment.  But, he was certain the symptoms Joe was inquiring about had started after he had inhaled that smoke.  He shook his head.

Joe’s hands moved to the back of Johnny’s neck.  “Any pain or stiffness here?”  He watched as Johnny shook his head again.

Roy was drying Johnny’s chest off with a towel so that he could attach the EKG leads.  “He said his back hurt.  And his legs.”

Joe rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.  “Where does your back hurt, Johnny?”

“Aches…”  Johnny hoped his one word answer would suffice.

“Headache?”

Johnny nodded.

Joe allowed his eyes to rest on his patient’s for a moment before looking up at Roy.  “If he has the flu, he would be experiencing body aches.  Still, we’ll do a lumbar puncture to be on the safe side.  His fever is pretty high.”

The blips on the heart monitor increased dramatically.  Johnny began to panic as the gravity of the situation started to sink in.  “No…”  Two sets of strong hands immediately steadied him.

“Just a precaution, Johnny.  You’re going to be fine.”  Joe waited to see if his patient would calm.

“No…”  Johnny’s respirations increased, triggering a painful cough.  Something gurgled and rattled in his chest and traveled up his windpipe, causing him to retch and gag.  He gasped and coughed harder, trying to expel the thick, foamy substance.  But, every painful gasp seemed to bring more of the foul liquid, until he felt as though he was drowning.  Eyes panicked, unable to move any air, he grabbed tightly onto Roy’s forearm.

“Suction!”  Joe ordered and the nurse quickly complied, moving to grab the wand off the wall.  He pressed the foot pedal on the floor to lower the head of the table.  “Help me move him back!” 

Joe and Roy moved Johnny’s body backward until his head hung off the table.  His hands grappled at the blankets, his lungs bursting as he struggled for oxygen.  Hands held his head firmly as he tried to thrash out of their grasp.  Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes at the intrusion of the suction wand at the back of his throat, and the cardiac monitor screeched loudly.

Joe motioned with his head for Roy to take over the suctioning while he issued more orders to the nurse.  “5 milligrams diazepam.  Let’s get him intubated.  Call respiratory.  We may need a ventilator.”  Johnny’s body began to calm as the secretions were cleared and he could again draw a painful breath.  Joe leaned close to his ear.  “Johnny, we’re going to give you something to help you relax, and then we’re going to intubate you.  I’m concerned about your ability to maintain your airway right now.  It will hopefully be only for a brief time, until I can get to the bottom of what’s causing this.”

Johnny opened his eyes to slits and blinked wearily at the doctor.  Too exhausted to protest, and too afraid to go through the experience of not being able to breathe again, he allowed his eyes to slide closed in silent approval.

Roy watched as the nurse injected the contents of her syringe into Johnny’s IV port.  He rubbed his friend’s forehead soothingly.  “Go to sleep, Junior.  You’ll feel better when you wake up.”  He waited until Joe traded places with him in order to insert the endotracheal tube before taking a step back and running his fingers through his hair.  Suddenly disturbed by the invasive procedure he had seen performed hundreds of times, he stepped out of the room, nearly bumping into the portable X-ray machine that had just arrived.

i i i

“Dwyer and Fitzpatrick are coming in early to finish the rest of your shift, so feel free to stick around there as long as you want.  I’ll be there as soon as I get off.”

“Thanks, Cap.  And thank the guys for me.”  Roy sat on the corner of the desk in Kelly Brackett’s office.

“So, no ideas yet on what’s wrong with John?”  Cap had placed his own phone call to Chief McConnike, hoping he would have some information on any unusual products of the smoke in the earlier fire, but he came up empty handed.

Roy sighed and he rubbed at his eyes.  “His white count is normal, so whatever’s making him sick is probably viral.  Dr. Early did a lumbar puncture to check for meningitis, and that came back normal too.  But, his fever is up over 104 and the biggest concern right now is his lungs.  He’s been intubated, but so far he’s not on a respirator.  If his lungs stiffen up any more…”

“Right.”  Cap stared at the incident report on his desk, wondering how on earth to fill in the blanks.  “Well, listen.  I’ll be there in a few hours.  But if you find anything out in the meantime…”

“I’ll keep you posted.”  Roy hung up the phone and looked up at the sound of the opening door. 

Kelly Brackett stepped into his office, his face softening at the site of the haggard looking fireman sitting on his desk.  He had already run into Joe Early and had been filled in on Johnny’s condition.  “I just talked to Joe.  Johnny’s been settled into ICU if you want to go up and see him.”

“Yeah…thanks, Doc.”  Roy stood up stiffly.  It had been a long night.  “So, you heard…”

Brackett hung up his jacket and folded his arms in front of him.  “I did, and I was just upstairs to see Johnny myself.  Joe thinks his breathing problems are a result of acute chemical pneumonitis.  Respiratory just finished up an albuterol nebulizer treatment with a little lidocaine added to suppress his cough and relieve some of that substernal burning.  He’ll need to be monitored pretty closely for the next day or two in case the pulmonary edema worsens, but right now he seems to be resting pretty comfortably.”

“I just don’t understand it, Doc.”  If Roy had thought there was any chance whatsoever that Johnny could have gotten a lungful of something this apparently toxic at that fire, he would have insisted he ride into Rampart to be checked out.  Cap would have too, even if the two of them had to tie him to the gurney to do it.  “This wasn’t a chemical fire.  It was paper products mostly.”

Brackett rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.  “Hmmm.  Well, let’s wait and see what his tox screen shows.  As for his other symptoms, Joe’s pretty sure it’s the flu.  We’ve been seeing a lot of it lately, including a few patients the two of you brought in.  It’s just unlucky that Johnny had to be dealing with that and the smoke inhalation at the same time.”

Roy forced a smile.  “Well, he’s never been known to do anything the easy way.”

Brackett returned the smile and held the door open for Roy to step out into the hallway as he followed.  “No…he certainly hasn’t.”

The two men were stopped at the base station by Dixie.  “Kel, Roy…”  She handed Brackett a manilla folder.  “More lab results for Johnny.  If you two are on your way upstairs, why don’t you take them to Joe?”

Brackett opened the folder and scanned the results of the toxicity panel.  His face twitched in concern at what he found.  “Chlorine gas?”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat.  “Chlorine…”

Brackett thought for a moment.  “Roy, did you see any bottles of bleach or other cleaning solutions?”

Roy shook his head in disbelief.  “No, Doc.  It’s like I said, it was nothing but decorations and stuff…paper lanterns…chopsticks…”

“Chopsticks?”  Dixie raised an eyebrow.

Roy turned to face the nurse.  “Yeah…huge boxes full of them.”

Dixie nodded knowingly and addressed the confused men.  “They use chlorine bleach to lighten the wood.  It’s why I never use them when I go to the Jade Dragon.”

Brackett never ceased to be amazed by his favorite nurse.  “But, Dix…how did you..?”

Dixie shrugged.  “Read it in a newsletter on organic eating.”

Roy nodded in understanding.  “So, the large quantities of chopsticks that burned up in that fire…”

“Would have released enough chlorine gas into the smoke that when Johnny breathed it in…”  Brackett continued the sentence.

“Well what do you know?  Johnny will never want to eat Chinese food again after this.”  Roy mused.

“No, I suppose not.”  Brackett tucked the folder under his arm with a smile.  “Come on, let’s go see that partner of yours.”

i i i

“Chopsticks?”  Johnny’s eyebrow rose weakly, and his voice was weak and muffled behind the oxygen mask he still wore.

“That’s what the man said, Johnny.”  Roy smiled as he walked closer to the bed.  He looked down at his partner, visually assessing.  Johnny looked exhausted, but at least the endotracheal tube was gone and his slightly pinked up color was an improvement over the grey pallor he wore earlier.

Johnny raised a hand to rub his aching forehead.  “Oh, man…”

Brackett stood leaning on the bed’s side rail.  “The good news is the Tylenol Joe prescribed seems to be working.  According to your chart, your latest temperature was 102.  How do you feel?”

“Like I never wanna see the inside of a Chinese restaurant ever again.”  Johnny closed his eyes, too tired to say any more.

Brackett chuckled.  “We had a feeling you might feel that way.”

“Get some rest, Johnny.  I’ll be back tomorrow.”  Roy gave Johnny’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Mmmm…”  Was the only response from the bed as Johnny drifted into slumber.

i i i

Three weeks later, Johnny bounced into the day room.  His lungs had healed from the chemical exposure, and he was fully over his flu.  It was Chet’s turn to make dinner, so Johnny was prepared to round up his partner and make an impromptu supply run so they would have an excuse to stop at a burger stand.  But, despite his trepidation, whatever Chet had cooking on the stove actually smelled good.  He walked up to the stove and peeked over the shorter man’s shoulder.  “What’s for dinner?”

Chet quickly clamped a lid over the large pan he had been tending.  “It’s a surprise, Gage.  You’re just going to have to wait.”  The truth was, Chet had brought in some Chinese takeout, emptied it into a pan, and surreptitiously discarded the cardboard containers.  He smiled inwardly at the brilliance of his plan.  The guys would think he threw together this stir fry himself.

Johnny scowled and took his seat at the table.  “Well whatever it is, I hope it’s done soon.  I’m starving.”  He patted his stomach in anticipation.

Chet put the finishing touches on his masterpiece, and then carried the pan to the table, setting it down in the middle where six hungry firefighters could dig in.  “Gentleman, you are about to enjoy chicken stir fry a la Kelly.”

Instantly the pan was attacked by spoons.  Only one man seemed to be in a quandary.  Johnny sat staring at the steaming concoction, his mind on his ordeal a few weeks prior.

Cap noticed Johnny’s hesitation and urged him on.  “Oh, come on, John.  Try it.  Chet actually came up with something good for a change.”

Chet opened his mouth as if to protest his superior’s comment, but thought better of it.  “Yeah, come on, Gage.  I slaved hours over a hot stove to make you this meal.  The least you can do is eat it.”

“And you don’t have to use chopsticks, Johnny.”  Roy teased.

“Very funny,” Johnny retorted with a sneer.  Reluctantly he spooned some stir fry onto his plate.  It did smell good, and he supposed his superstition was a little silly.  He took one bite, then another.  “You know what, Chet?”  Another bite.  “This is good!”

“Well, you know…cooking is an art that few people can actually master…”

“Don’t push it, Kelly.”  Cap effectively cut off Chet’s attempt at self praise before it could get out of hand.  He reached for more food.

“I’m sorry, Chet.”  Johnny apologized, his mouth full of rice.  “But, you know…not being able to breathe is a pret-ty scary thing…”

“You don’t have to explain, Johnny.”  Roy took a sip of his milk.  “But after all, it was the chopsticks that made you sick, not the food.”

“Well, actually, Roy...”  Johnny shoveled another forkful of food into his already stuffed mouth.  “The chopstick incident just gave me one more reason to avoid Chinese restaurants.  The truth is, there’s only one place in LA I can go to if I want Chinese…and that’s Cheng Fun down on Alameda.”

“Why’s that?”  Mike added his customary two words to the conversation.

Johnny took a break from eating and wiped his mouth with his napkin.  “Well, you see….it’s the only place around here that doesn’t use MSG in their food.”

Chet’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.  “Uh…what happens if you eat food that didn’t come from Cheng Fun?”

“Well, Chet…since I’m severely allergic to MSG, my airways would start to close up and I wouldn’t be able to breathe.  Then…uh…”  Johnny stopped talking, suddenly aware of intense itching on his chest and arms.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing Chet made this food from scratch then.  Right, Johnny?”  Roy looked confusedly at the look on Chet’s face, then over at his partner, who was now frantically clutching his throat, making a harsh wheezing sound.  “Johnny…”

--The End??

Author’s notes:  This story is a result of a weird dream I had one night.  I woke up in the morning remembering bits and pieces of a dream where Johnny was sick at the station and Roy and Cap were very concerned.  After I got over the scary fact that apparently I am now dreaming about Johnny owies, I realized maybe it was a message from beyond.  Write the story…write the story…hehe.

Hugs once again to my awesome and irreplaceable beta…someone who inspires and encourages, and restores my faith that I’m normal despite my obsession with hurting a certain paramedic.  To my soul sister…my partner in crime…thank you, Mary Ann (Turtle).

Erin (Cap)—You left us alone again, and look what happened.  Johnny got hurt.  Now aren’t you ashamed of yourself? LOL

Jackie—Welcome to the late night craziness.  This is what happens to the poor guy in our universe.  You may as well get used to it.

And to the readers:  Thank you for reading.  Without you, there would be no reason to do this except for my own twisted enjoyment.

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