Disbelief (Edited Version)

Part 2

Johnny’s first session with the new counselor started poorly. Too much beer the night before had left him with a terrific hangover, and he cursed the early hour of his appointment. Slouched in the waiting room, he morosely awaited his latest hour of avoidance.  
 

Of course he had no intention of opening up to the new counselor. It was no one’s business what he was thinking. And his pounding headache served only to aid his resolve to get through the session as quickly and quietly as possible. 
 

“John Gage?”  
 

He looked up into the face of his new tormenter.  
 

“I’m Dr. Driscoll. Let’s go inside, okay?” 
 

Johnny dutifully followed the taller man into the office.  
 

“Have a seat,” Dr. Driscoll offered, gesturing toward a plush couch and matching chair.  
 

Johnny chose the chair, where he sat and tried to think of what he would say to get through the session with as little pain as possible. 
 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Driscoll began, taking a seat across from John. He flipped open a folder and perused the notes he had inside. “So you’ve already been to Will Jensen.” 
 

“Yeah.” 
 

“Didn’t work out?” 
 

Johnny rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. He was okay.” 
 

“So how’s it been since he last saw you?” 
 

“I don’t know. Not great, I guess.” 
 

“In what ways has it been not great?” 
 

Johnny pondered the strange syntax for a moment, then realized that he didn’t have an answer to the question. “I don’t know,” he repeated lamely. 
 

Dr. Driscoll looked up from his notebook. “I know that this isn’t the easiest thing in the world to go through,” he said gently, “but the only way it’s going to get any better is to talk about it.” 
 

“Maybe.” John wiped his face as the pounding in his head grew worse. “I just don’t have anything to say.” He grabbed at a fleeting straw. “I said everything to Dr. Jensen.” 
 

Dr. Driscoll looked at though he was about to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “Okay. Have it your way.” He set his notebook on the table next to him, leaned forward, and plunged. 
 

“John, you were sexually assaulted by several men. You experienced the deepest humiliation and pain that a man can experience. Now the question is, how are you going to deal with your feelings about all of this? How are you going to deal with your friends when you go back to work? What do you think, John?” 
 

Johnny sank back, his hands strangling each other, his heart pounding. He swallowed several times before attempting to speak. 
 

“I…don’t know,” he stammered. 
 

“How do you feel about what happened to you at the bar?” 
 

“How…I feel…” John collected a fragment of his thoughts, and something from deep within his soul blurted its way out. “Dirty.” 
 

“You feel dirty. Why?” 
 

“Uh…” Johnny dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Do you mind?” he asked desperately. 
 

“Go ahead.” 
 

Johnny fumbled with the match, struggling to light the cigarette because his hands trembled. Finally successful, he inhaled deeply. 
 

“You know, I don’t smoke,” he said self-deprecatingly. 
 

“I’ll bet you don’t drink, either,” Driscoll returned, smiling. 
 

“Well, just once in a while. Not like…” Johnny’s voice trailed off, and Driscoll supplied the missing words. 
 

“Not like you’ve been drinking lately.” 
 

“Yeah.” 
 

“So what’s going on? Why the drinking and smoking?” 
 

Johnny shrugged, and Driscoll once again helped him out. 
 

“Does it have anything to do with your feelings of being dirty?” he asked gently. 
 

John took a drag from the cigarette. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess.” 
 

“You feel dirty, so you fulfill your own feelings. You don’t smoke, and you don’t drink to excess, but you feel dirty so you try to act dirty. You do things that you wouldn’t normally do.” 
 

“Is that what I’ve been doing?” Johnny tried to sound nonchalant, but failed. Driscoll was too good. 
 

“So what other unusual behaviors have you engaged in?” 
 

Johnny stared at him. “What do you mean?” he asked breathlessly. 
 

“Well, have you become sexually promiscuous?” 
 

“Oh, man.” Johnny leaned forward and snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Man, I don’t think that I want to talk about this.” 
 

“Should I take that as a yes?” 
 

“Man, I really don’t want to talk about this,” Johnny said, his words garbled as he rubbed his face.  
 

“John, listen to me.” Driscoll spoke very clearly. “This kind of behavior is normal. Do you understand? It is normal after what happened to you.” 
 

Johnny eyed him suspiciously. “No. I don’t believe that. It can’t be.” 
 

“And why shouldn’t it be?” Driscoll countered. “Look what happened to you. Your autonomy was taken from you. Your sense of manhood. Let me ask you a very personal question. When you were being assaulted, did you experience an erection?” 
 

John turned very red. “Why?” 
 

“Because if you did, you need to know that it is very normal. Your body reacts to stimulation regardless of who is providing the stimulation. Understand? Your body doesn’t know the difference between proper and improper stimulation. It just reacts. So you’re not less of a man if your body reacted sexually to those men.” 
 

“I…don’t know.” Johnny pulled another cigarette from his pocket. “This is too much.” 
 

“It was too much when you were assaulted. That was the damage. Now we need to undo some of that damage. You need to understand your reactions so that you can deal with them.” 
 

Johnny stared at his lap. “I don’t want to understand,” he finally whispered. 
 

“Why not?” Driscoll’s voice was nearly as soft. 
 

“Because…” John paused, watching the cigarette smoke drift to the ceiling. “Because I don’t want to…I don’t like…” He impatiently waved his hand. “I don’t know! I don’t know what to say!” 
 

“You feel betrayed, don’t you?” 
 

Johnny chuckled. “Now that’s an interesting word.” 
 

“Betrayal is an interesting concept. So tell me about it.” 
 

John leaned back, struggling fiercely to relax. “I don’t know what you mean.” 
 

Driscoll’s eyebrows raised. “Well, we’ve already talked about the betrayal of your own body. Can you acknowledge that?” 
 

Johnny unconsciously crossed his legs. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 
 

“Okay.” Driscoll nodded. “Then let’s talk about your partner. Roy.” 
 

Suddenly wary, Johnny also nodded. “What about him?” 
 

“You said he was outside the bar during the attack. When did he come back in?” 
 

“Uh, after the attack.”  
 

“After the attack,” Driscoll repeated. “Why not before?” he went on, watching Johnny closely. 
 

He was not disappointed. John’s face flushed. “Well, he couldn’t get in…he tried, but…” His voice trailed off. 
 

“How do you feel about this, John?” 
 

Johnny squirmed in his seat. “He tried to get to me, but he couldn’t.” 
 

Driscoll once again dug in. “You were being sexually assaulted, John. Your partner, your friend, was safe outside. He didn’t get to you until you had already been badly hurt. How do you feel about this?” 
 

Johnny jumped out of the chair and stood next to it, his back to Driscoll. “I…felt…” His voice broke, and he bowed his head. “I wanted him to come help me,” he said very quietly. “I kept calling him, but he didn’t come until it was too late.” He turned back toward Driscoll, his eyes red and moist. “None of them came until it was too late. I kept calling them…I wanted someone to help me, but no one came…” He slipped back into the chair, wiping his eyes with his hand.

Driscoll handed him a box of tissue, and Johnny gratefully took one. 
 

The men sat in silence for several moments. It was Driscoll who finally spoke. 
 

“Believe it or not, John, this has been good for you. Your feelings about the assault need to come out, as painful as it may be for you. I think that you’ll be ready to go back to work very soon. Do you agree?” 
 

Johnny’s face brightened. “Absolutely,” he answered emphatically.  
 

“Okay. Let’s have a few more sessions, and then we’ll see about getting you back to work. You’ve made a great deal of progress today, John. And it will get better, I promise.” 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny returned to work after four weekly sessions with Dr. Driscoll. Both men felt that the best thing for Johnny was to return to his everyday routine, to learn to trust again. 
 

Unfortunately, Johnny’s partner and co-workers had not had the same counseling, and so the stage was set for trouble when John walked through the doors of Station 51 for the first time in a month. 
 

The first hours were quiet but tense. Roy struggled to act as though everything was fine, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when they went on their first run. Johnny, too, kept reliving the fire that had gotten him relieved of duty for a month. Both men tensed every time the klaxons sounded, waiting for the familiar tones that would be the beginning of their test. 
 

Johnny finally went behind the station and tried shooting baskets, and after several minutes began to feel a little relaxed. He was even pleased to see Roy. 
 

“Shooting some baskets?” 
 

“Trying,” John replied, watching as a particularly poor shot completely missed the basket. “Man, am I out of practice.” 
 

“It’ll just take some time,” Roy returned.
 

“Yeah.” Johnny dribbled the ball a few times, then tossed it down and walked to Roy. “It’ll all take some time,” he said softly. 
 

“You seem a lot better.” 
 

Johnny shrugged. “Talking to a shrink will do wonders for your sanity,” he said, slowly grinning. 
 

“Well, I sure am glad you’re back.”  
 

“Me too. It’s just…” 
 

“What?” 
 

Johnny wished he had the ball back so that he could keep his hands busy. “Well, I know that everybody’s trying to act like nothing’s happened, and I’m trying to do the same thing, but…” 
 

“But it happened,” Roy finished for him, and Johnny nodded. 
 

“It happened,” he repeated, blinking hard. 
 

Roy sighed. “I know that we haven’t talked about it much…well, I want you to know that I am so sorry about what happened. I wish I could go back and change what happened, but of course I can’t.” 
 

“Yeah. Me too.” Johnny managed a chuckle. “But, hey. It’s over, and I’m back to work, and I feel pretty good!” 
 

The partners laughed together, confident that John’s recovery was well under way. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

The shift remained quiet, and Roy finally suggested that they run to Rampart for supplies. 
 

Johnny hesitated. Rampart… 
 

“Coming, Johnny?” Roy called from the squad. 
 

“Yeah,” Johnny replied as he slowly made his way to the passenger’s side. 
 

He fidgeted constantly as Roy drove to the hospital, and as they backed into the ambulance bay Johnny found himself staring at the radio, willing it to spring to life with a call. But it remained stubbornly silent, and John was forced to follow Roy into Rampart. 
 

Of course Dixie sat at the nurse’s station. Johnny shrank against the wall when he caught sight of her. Roy, unaware of his partner’s plight, continued on. 
 

“Hi, Roy!” He heard Dixie’s voice, saw her face light up as she looked up at Roy, and then her eyes searched for him. He tried to straighten up before she saw him, tried to look nonchalant, tried to act as though the last time he had been in the hospital had been a routine visit, but failed on all counts. He saw Dixie’s _expression change into a look of pity, of knowledge. She saw it all. She saw me fall apart. She saw me at the lowest point of my entire life. “Hey, there, Johnny!” she called brightly, smilingly, but underneath the mask he saw her sorrow. “Come on over! Haven’t seen you in forever!”  

“Johnny!” 
 

He gasped and jumped as a hand slapped his shoulder. Dr. Brackett immediately retreated a step, his face registering his embarrassment.  
 

“Sorry about that. I have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.” Brackett flashed a brief smile, then awkwardly continued down the hall to the nurse’s station. Johnny saw Roy speaking, his voice low so that no one could hear. 
 

Go to them. They’re your friends. He took the first step, then the next, and the talking stopped, and they all were looking at him, their faces frozen in artificial grins, their arms and torsos posed like manikins. Smile. Pretend like nothing ever happened. It’s all an act anyway. If you pretend enough, it’ll all go away.  
 

“Got the supplies, Roy?” My voice sounds like a little boy’s. Scared to death. 
 

Roy’s pose broke. “Uh, no, not yet.” He turned to Dixie, flustered. “We just came in for supplies,” he said mechanically. 
 

“Right.” Dixie continued smiling as she slid off her stool. “I’m really glad to see you, Johnny,” she said, moving closer to the dark-haired paramedic. “I’ve missed seeing you.” 
 

John never heard her. His total attention was fixed on Dr. Early as the doctor stepped out of Exam One and headed toward them.  
 

“Hey, everybody,” Early greeted as he joined them. He glanced at Johnny before speaking to Brackett. 
 

“I think we’ve got a subdural hematoma, Kel. I’ve sent for x-rays to rule out a skull fracture.”  
 

Brackett looked puzzled for a moment. “Who…” 
 

Early gestured toward Exam One. “Mr. Bentley. Remember, he fell from the roof?” 
 

“Right,” Kel replied, nodding his head.  
 

“Well, Doctor, let’s get back to work,” Early prompted, taking Brackett by the arm. “Johnny, Roy, good to see you.” He nodded at John as he passed. 
 

Roy went about getting supplies, and Dixie answered a phone call, but Johnny stared after Dr. Early. He exhaled heavily, not even realizing that he had been holding his breath as he had waited to see how Early would react to him. The doctor’s calm demeanor was a welcome change. Thanks, Doc. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny performed well when the first call finally came. He allowed Roy to take charge, for he felt a bit rusty, but as he followed the ambulance he felt his old confidence beginning to return. The probable heart attack victim had responded well to their ministrations, and Johnny felt that he could go back to the hospital without the panic that had taken over before.  
 

The rest of the afternoon had consisted of simple calls, and the quick trips to Rampart had helped Johnny desensitize himself to the presence of the staff. He found himself feeling strengthened by the return to routine, and when he was at the station he began to relax around the guys. They, in turn, began to return to the way things had been before the run to Melvin’s Place. Slowly, carefully, each man tread back into the waters of familiarity, easing into the camaraderie that had existed before. John allowed himself to trust his friends as long as the squad remained at the station, and the fact that no fires called them out the first day certainly helped the situation. 
 

That evening was a different story. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Cap froze as he listened to the voice of the dispatcher. No, not that place.  
 

“LA, is another squad available?” 
 

“Negative, Engine 51.” 
 

Damn. “LA, be advised that Engine 51 will be accompanying Squad 51.” 
 

Johnny and Roy heard Cap’s voice over the radio, and both knew what Cap was thinking.  
 

Neither one said a word as they fetched their helmets and sped to the destination dispatch had just given them.  

 

Melvin’s Place seemed somehow shriveled and forlorn in the early evening, before the brash neon lights and crowds of men made their appearances. Roy jumped from the squad and trotted to the other side—where he found Johnny pulling on his turnout coat. 
 

“Johnny…?” 
 

“I’ve got the biophone,” his partner responded shortly. 
 

Roy stared at him for a moment before deciding to ignore the turnout coat. After all, what would it hurt? He pulled out the drug box and led the way toward the bar. Meanwhile, Hank jumped from the engine before it had even stopped and trotted over to the paramedics. 
 

“Roy…?” His single word spoke volumes. 
 

The senior paramedic shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied quietly. 
 

Cap gestured toward the engine. “Kelly, Lopez, accompany Gage and DeSoto,” he instructed.  
 

The two firemen started toward the paramedics, then waited while Johnny fiddled with the front of his coat. Roy turned back toward him. 
 

“Coming?” he asked. 
 

John pulled out the forcible entry tool and held it in front of him. “Yeah,” he responded shortly.  
 

Roy stepped into the bar and took a quick glance around. Unlike the last run to the bar, this time the crowd was much smaller and quieter. He gestured to the bartender.  
 

“We got a call…someone sick?” 
 

The bartender nodded toward the far corner…at the pool table. “Over there. Somebody’s cut or something.” 
 

Roy bit his lip, then headed toward the pool table. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny made it through the door of the bar, but then his feet melted into the grimy floor, and he stopped dead. He stopped so suddenly that Marco actually ran into him. 
 

“Hey, John!” the surprised fireman cried. “What’s going on?” 
 

“Uh…nothing.” Johnny inched forward, finally breaking free from the floor and moving farther into the bar. He could see Roy standing next to the victim…next to the pool table.  
 

The dark, smoky atmosphere grew hot and loud in his ears. The music grew to a horrific crescendo, and the smoke stung his eyes until he felt tears develop.  
 

“Uh…I can’t…I can’t go in…” Johnny whirled and fled the bar, stumbling past Marco and Chet in his haste. He didn’t stop until he stood on the far side of the squad, where Cap found him nearly hyperventilating. 
 

“Easy, pal,” Hank said. “Just take your time.” He gestured toward Chet, who had remained in the doorway of the bar. “See if Roy can bring the victim out here,” he called. 
 

Chet nodded, then disappeared into the bar. Johnny watched him, his breathing noticeably increasing as the firefighter went into the building. 
 

“Hey, John, take it easy,” Hank said, placing his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. The jerking backward by the younger man did not surprise Hank, and he quickly removed his hand. “Why don’t you come sit down?” he suggested, indicating the running board. 
 

Johnny shook his head. “Roy…Chet and Marco. They need to get out…” His eyes remained fixed on the closed door, his mouth hanging open as he breathed ever faster. 
 

A few minutes later the door finally opened and Roy emerged, supporting a tall black man. Chet and Marco closely followed, carrying the equipment. Johnny relaxed incrementally, until he got a better look at the victim. 
 

Hank nearly yelped as Johnny stomped his foot in his haste to move back. As it was, he had to bite back a sharp retort until he realized that the young paramedic was completely terrified. 
 

“John…what is it?” he asked, glancing at Roy as he approached the squad with the others. 
 

“Uh…er…nothing,” Johnny stammered, desperately trying to pull himself back together. He couldn’t take his eyes off the victim…and the scar that deformed his mouth. 
 

Roy had the man sit on the running board, and Johnny cautiously sidled around the front of the squad.  
 

“Okay, we’re gonna just bandage up that cut and you’ll be good as new,” Roy was saying as Johnny moved closer. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but you might want to go to your doctor to have him check it out.” 
 

“I don’t have no doctor,” the man replied. He looked up as John approached, and a sudden look of recognition filled his face. He grinned, a hideous _expression that made him look as though he were snarling. “Well, how about that,” he said. “Another white boy. Man, I feel real privileged now. Wait till I tell everybody that I had all these white boys waiting on me! Why, I just might have to thank you in person,” he went on, his eyes boring into Johnny’s. “I bet you’re a lot of fun. Fancy white boy in your uniform. But underneath you’re just another boy. A cryin’ little white boy.” 
 

Roy looked up at Johnny. “We’re okay here,” he said pointedly.  
 

The dark-haired man knew that Roy was telling him to move away, but just as he had been frozen in the doorway of the bar, so now he was frozen under the stare of the scarred man. He was frozen in the memories… 
 

The men’s room…the cue stick pounding his head…the absolute helplessness as he was dragged from the bathroom. 
 

Masses of men…shouts…cigarette smoke…a rolling ball. 
 

His arms stretched out…his clothes pulled away…and the overwhelming disbelief. 
 

“No!” He broke from the spell. The truth sat before him, his taunting eyes and devil’s grin reminding him that the agony had been real, that the violation had happened, that the hell he had descended into had lived on.  
 

They had taken him back, but they couldn’t make him stay. They wouldn’t abandon him this time. He backed away from the scarred man, from Roy, from Cap and Chet and Marco. He wouldn’t be caught this time. 
 

He flattened himself against the back of the squad, and somewhere he could hear the voice. 
 

“Hey, I’m going. You put your Band-Aid on me. Now I’m gone. You white boys go on back to your fancy neighborhood. You don’t need to be here.” 
 

He could hear Roy’s voice, calm and tolerant. He was probably saying something that he thought would appease the man.  
 

Footsteps. He knew whom they belonged to, and yet he still peered around the squad. No… 
 

The scarred man paused briefly when he saw Johnny. The grotesque grin once again curled his lip. “Hey. Didn’t think I’d see you again. The cryin’ white boy. Maybe I’ll make you scream again. You keep comin’ ‘round here. You must like it, huh, white boy? Little white gay boy. Maybe I need to get some more of your white ass.” He chuckled and flicked Johnny’s chin, then swiftly walked away into the deepening darkness of the evening. 
 

Johnny stared after him, trembling violently. He didn’t hear Roy or Cap when they came to him and spoke to him, and he wasn’t aware that he had been guided to the running board to sit down. He was only aware of the grinning face, the scar, the words. 
 

“Johnny? Johnny?” 
 

“He was one.” He spoke the words automatically, allowing them to slip out before realizing what he was saying. He became aware of Roy’s face before his. 
 

“Johnny? What are you saying?” 
 

“He was one of them. He attacked me.” Johnny’s voice cracked. “He was one of them.”  
 

<<<<>>>>> 
 

Damon Washington was arrested that night, and the following day Johnny was called to the police station to identify him as one of his attackers. 
 

He stared at the man through the one-way mirror, taking in the glaring eyes and the hideous scar, and suddenly he had to vomit. He mumbled something to the police officers with him and then rushed from the room, searching for the men’s room. Once there, he hunched over the commode, gulping the stale air in a vain attempt to keep his lunch down. He failed, flushed the toilet, washed his face, and returned to view his nightmare. 
 

The police officers tried to appear sympathetic, but John could sense that they had seen too many victims, too many villains, and he was just one more. He filled out the appropriate paperwork, nodded when told that he would be informed of the court date, and left the police station.

He spent an hour incessantly pacing his apartment, smoking one cigarette after another, gulping endless cups of coffee.  
 

They had one of them…the one who had savaged him. The others still lurked out there. But one wouldn’t leave his mind. Despite being unable to leave the jail, the scar-faced man still managed to molest his way into John’s thoughts. Glaring from a police line-up…mocking and laughing outside Melvin’s Place…standing in front of him in a dark, terrifying bar…forcing him to do something so vile…so sickening. 
 

Johnny dropped his cup, splashing coffee on his leg. He didn’t even notice.  
 

He had to forget. 
 

Digging through his closet, he pulled out old shoeboxes that hadn’t been opened for years. For perhaps ten minutes he feared that he would…wouldn’t…find the particular box, and then, deep in the darkness of the closet, he found it. Partially crushed, yellowed with age, filled with papers with scribbled numbers and names that he hadn’t recalled for at least five years. Two black books, one never used, the other filled with names from a time that he had tried hard to forget. He held the latter, resisting just a moment before opening it, wondering if he would remember the name he was looking for when he saw it. 
 

Flannery. That was it. Nick Flannery. It had probably been seven or eight years since he had last spoken to Nick, and there was a good chance that the number was no longer valid, but he would try.  
 

“Hello…uh, I’m trying to reach Nick Flannery…Nick…yeah…hello, Nick? Hi, this is John Gage. Remember…yeah! Hey, how’re ya doing? Yeah, I know. Too long. Listen, Nick, I’ve got a favor to ask. Uh, you remember Paul Weston, don’t you? Yeah, that’s right. All the time…yeah, well, I’m looking for some…No, not for me…a friend…Yeah, that’s it. A party. Tonight? Sure…nine it is. Okay, I’ll see you there. Yeah…okay, bye.” 
 

He hung up and instantly decided that he would not go meet Nick. He couldn’t. 
 

Eight o’clock. He flipped through the channels on the TV, but nothing caught his attention. Eight fifteen. He would have to leave soon if he was going. 
 

But I’m not going. 
 

Eight twenty. He grabbed his keys and left. 
 

Ninety minutes later he returned to his apartment, closed and locked the door, and stared at the small paper bag he had laid on the counter.
 

He opened it. Pulled out a small corncob pipe.  
 

Pulled out a rolled-up baggy with a small amount of crumbled leaves inside. 
 

Stop. 
 

Dirty. Filthy. Bad. 
 

He filled the pipe with some of the leaves, fished a quarter from his pocket, retrieved the lighter that he had bought, and lit the pipe. After inhaling deeply, he placed the coin over the top of the pipe. He held the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible, then exhaled. 
 

What am I doing?  

He removed the coin and once again lit the pipe, once again inhaled, held it, exhaled. Again.  
 

Again. He felt a wave of dizziness.  
 

He smoked the entire amount in the pipe.  
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

He awoke late, with the sun streaming in through the windows. He hadn’t closed the blinds, and he squinted at the bright light. For several seconds he couldn’t understand why he was on the couch, and he tried to remember what he had been doing last night. The pipe lying on the coffee table abruptly brought him back to reality. 
 

“Oh, man! Oh, man, what have I done!” He snatched up the pipe and the baggy and scurried to his bedroom, where he tucked them both into the back of his underwear drawer. He then stood staring at the closed drawer, his mind racing. 
 

He started pacing his apartment, reeling at his actions of the night before. The phone call to Nick. The drive out to meet Nick and Paul. Sitting in his apartment and smoking weed.
 

Stupid. Worthless. Dirty.  
 

He stripped and stepped into the shower, scrubbing until the bar of soap was a mass of bubbles. He turned the water ever hotter, to the point that he nearly scalded himself. He rinsed again and again, almost frantically, almost sobbing, but the filth wouldn’t wash away. The dirt…the ugliness…the horror… 
 

He was worthless.  
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

The calls began soon after John received notice of the court date for Damon Washington. The first calls were simple hang-ups as soon as he picked up the receiver, but they quickly progressed to the caller keeping the line open without saying anything. 
 

Eventually the calls developed into something far worse. 
 

“Hello?” 
 

“Hey, white boy. I ain’ believin’ that you still answer your phone. Man, you mus’ be some stupid white boy.” 
 

“What do you want? Why do you keep calling me?” 
 

“Man, you know what I want. I want some more of your white ass. I wanna hear you cry again.” 
 

“Leave me alone!” 
 

“Hey, y’know, I got to go to court because of you, white boy. Here I is on probation and now I gotta go back to court. Man, I didn’t hurt you none. If I’d of wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t of walked outta Melvin’s. No, you’d still be lyin’ there cryin’ and beggin’ me to stop because your sorry white ass can’t take a real man. I wanna show you how much it can really hurt. You ain’ felt nothing yet, boy. You don’t know pain. Jus’ wait till I get you alone again, white boy. You gonna feel me good, and then I’ll make you go down on me again. Sound good, boy?” 
 

“Leave me alone!” Johnny slammed the phone down. He stumbled backward, knocking the receiver onto the floor by accident. Returning it to its cradle, he then slipped from the living room, wanting to get far away from the phone. 
 

It rang. John jumped. He stared into the dim room, staring at the phone, knowing that the monster’s voice lay so close. 
 

“I won’t go through this anymore!” he shouted, rushing for the phone. With a fury that terrified him, he grabbed the phone and hurled it onto the floor. The edge hit the top of his foot, but he barely felt the pain. The only thing that he cared about was the end of the ringing. 
 

“Now try to call me!” he cried, kicking at the unfortunate appliance. His bare foot smashed the phone into the wall, creating a gouge in the surface. “Look what I did! Too bad!” Johnny stood still for a moment, just now beginning the feel the throbbing pain in his foot. He looked down at his foot, noting the very large red area from the phone. 
 

“I need a drink,” he announced to himself, limping into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.  
 

The first two beers disappeared with unnerving ease, but Johnny paced his apartment, too restless to notice the effects of the alcohol. He kept glancing at the disabled phone. 
 

“He can’t call…he can’t call…but he knows where I live.” He got the last beer from the fridge and popped off the cap. “He knows…he knows…” For the umpteenth time that evening he checked the lock on his door, swaying slightly and spilling his beer. “He knows…I need to get out of here.” Looking around, he spotted his keys. Draining the remainder of his beer, he dropped the bottle on the couch and staggered from his apartment. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

The neon lights flowed like water. Mmmmeeeeellllvvvviiiinnn’’’sss Ppplllaaaacccceee. He craned his neck, peering at the flashing colors through the window of his Rover.  
 

He opened the door and carefully slid out. The cold pavement shocked his bare feet.  
 

Music floated from the bar. Voices popped and droned. Laughter crackled, then died. He leaned against the Rover, his arms feeling the heat from the hood. 
 

“Welcome to hell,” he whispered. “I’m back.” 
 

Pushing himself away from the safety of his vehicle, he stumbled into the deserted street, stopping halfway across. 
 

“Where is he?” he called, but his voice refused to cooperate, and no one heard him. At least, no one looked at him with more than suspicious indifference. 
 

“Where is he? Do you hear me?” he tried again, hoping that his voice was increasing in volume.  
 

A few men looked in his direction, their faces indecipherable.  
 

“Can you hear me? Where is he?” 
 

One man broke away from the others and approached him. “What you want?” he snapped. 
 

“Where is he?” Johnny repeated.  
 

“Who?” 
 

“Who? The bastard who killed me, that’s who! Where is he?” 
 

The man backed away from him. “Man, you crazy!” he said, starting to return to the bar. 
 

Johnny followed him, his steps tottering. “He keeps calling me! He’s got to stop!” 
 

The man turned and faced John. “Go home,” he said almost kindly. “You don’t need to be here, man.” 
 

Johnny stopped. “But he keeps calling me. I can’t…I can’t stand it anymore!” 
 

“Just go home, man. Go on.”  
 

John watched him rejoin the others, then, in a burst of decision, went back to the Rover. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

“Johnny? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Instead of answering, Johnny pushed past Roy and slammed the door shut.  
 

“What’s going on? Johnny—” 
 

“You don’t understand,” John interrupted. “Nobody does, so I’ve gotta take care of myself. I just wanted you to understand.” 
 

“Understand what? Is somebody after you?” Roy tried. 
 

“They all are!” Johnny exclaimed. “That’s why I’m here. They don’t know about this place.” 
 

Roy shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t drive over here like this.” He grasped Johnny’s arm. “Sit down before you fall over.” 
 

“Did you lock the door?” John asked, resisting Roy’s attempt to guide him to the couch. 
 

“I’ll lock it now, but I need you to sit down.” 
 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 
 

“It is. Just sit down and I’ll lock the door.” 
 

John finally found the couch and Roy locked the door. 
 

“Johnny, where are your shoes?” 
 

John looked up from lighting a cigarette. “What?” he asked blankly. 
 

Roy pointed. “You’re not wearing any shoes. And what did you do to your foot?” 
 

“Uh, nothing.” 
 

“Nothing! It looks like you dropped a brick on it.” Roy knelt next to the couch. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for John’s foot. 
 

“Don’t…” Johnny flinched at Roy’s touch but yielded to his friend’s examination. 
 

“I don’t suppose you’re feeling any pain,” Roy remarked. “You may have broken it. You need to get it x-rayed.” 
 

“Yeah…whatever.” Johnny jumped and looked wildly about. “What’s that? Who’s there?” 
 

“Roy?” Joanne stood in the doorway of the living room. “What’s going on?” 
 

“Get back!” John shouted, leaping from the couch and lunging toward Joanne. “Don’t let them see you!” 
 

Joanne shrank back, and Roy grabbed Johnny from behind. A strange tussle ensued, ending with the drunken man being pinned onto the floor with the heavier Roy straddling him. 
 

“Stop it! That’s enough!” Roy glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Joanne shepherd Chris and Jennifer away from the living room. 
 

He looked down on Johnny and suddenly all of his anger and frustration and pain poured out of him. 
 

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted, shaking John’s shoulders. “Why do you have to bring your problems here? I’ve tried to help you, God knows I’ve tried. But you just can’t get over it. You have to come here and scare the hell out of my wife and kids!” He jerked John from the floor, forcing him to stand. “Look what you’re doing to yourself! Drunk…driving drunk…Johnny, I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand to see you do this to yourself.” 
 

Johnny did not respond. He stood, eyes lowered, face blank. Roy released him, then turned and retrieved his keys.  
 

“Come on. I’m taking you home.” 
 

He drove in silence, not trusting himself to speak until he reached Johnny’s apartment. Once there, he turned to his friend. 
 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning, and we can get your Rover.” 
 

“Whatever.” John sat still, his hand resting on the handle. 
 

“Johnny, I’m sorry, but I don’t know—” 
 

“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” John jerked the door open and exited Roy’s car.  
 

Roy watched him until he disappeared into the apartment. He drove home, but he would not sleep that night. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny sat morosely at the table, wondering if the shift would ever end. The fact that he had only arrived for the shift an hour earlier made him even more miserable. 
 

Chet sauntered into the day room. Johnny purposely looked the other way, hoping that the other man would leave him alone. 
 

“So, John, how about a game of cards?” 
 

Johnny sighed. “No, thanks.” 
 

Chet pulled out the chair next to his. “Tough day already, huh?” 
 

“What would you know about it?” Johnny replied shortly. 
 

Chet pushed his chair back. “Just making conversation, pal,” he said a trifle testily.  
 

“Well, make it with someone else.” 
 

“Whatever you want.” Chet got up and went to the stove to pour himself a cup of coffee. He continued to watch Gage. 
 

“So what’s eating you?” Chet asked after taking a sip of his coffee. “You should be feeling better. One of the guys was caught, and—” 
 

Johnny stood up with such force his chair fell backward. He rushed at Chet and grabbed his shirt with both hands. The coffee spilled, splashing both men. 
 

Chet pulled away from Johnny. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” he shouted, quickly setting the coffee on the counter and beginning to unbutton his shirt.  
 

“Leave me alone!” Johnny snapped, oblivious to the hot coffee that covered his chest and abdomen. “All you have to do is leave me alone, if you can manage that!” He spun on his heel and pushed his way past Roy, Marco, and Mike. 
 

Roy went to Chet. “Let’s take a look at that burn,” he said, watching as Chet pulled his tee shirt over his head.  
 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Chet replied. “But Johnny…I don’t know about him.” 
 

“What’d you say to him?” Marco asked. 
 

Chet spread his arms. “Nothing! I just asked what was bothering him, that’s all! I don’t know why he got so mad.” 
 

“He’s been through a lot,” Mike supplied. 
 

“Well, that doesn’t give him the right to jump all over me,” Chet said. “I’m gonna go change.” 
 

Roy stopped him. “Let me make sure Johnny’s not in the locker room, okay? Just give me a minute.” 
 

Chet nodded. “Sure, Roy. Go check on him.” 
 

Roy found Johnny sitting in front of his locker, his uniform shirt and tee shirt lying in a bundle on the floor. Roy stepped over the bench and sat next to Johnny. 
 

“You want to talk about it?” 
 

Johnny buried his head in his hands. “Y’know, Roy, I’m getting real sick of hearing that.” 
 

“We’re just trying to help.” 
 

“Well, I don’t want your help.” Johnny stood up and pulled a fresh tee shirt from his locker. “I don’t need your help, so just leave me alone.”  
 

“Is that why you showed up at my house last night?”  
 

John flinched and started to say something, but caught himself. 
 

“Why’d you jump Chet?” 
 

Johnny stopped what he was doing. “Don’t you understand English? Leave me alone!” 
 

He finished changing in silence, and Roy finally left the room. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny got through the morning by avoiding the others as much as possible. When on a run, he performed on autopilot, carrying out his duties with as little interaction with Roy as possible. Once, he slipped. A distraught man, near tears over his wife’s entrapment in a car, turned on Johnny and grabbed him by the arm. Johnny threw off the man’s hand with a panicked cry and retreated several feet before regaining control, an action that was witnessed by all five members of Station 51.  
 

Johnny had dealt with his embarrassment as well as he could, but the knowledge that he was cracking up under the watchful eye of his co-workers drove him ever deeper into the shell that he had produced. At lunch he ate quickly and silently, retreating to the parking area behind the station as soon as he finished. He got a cigarette from his Rover and rapidly smoked it, knowing that his fear of exposure was irrational and yet unwilling to let the others know of his habit.

The sound of the door opening sent him into a frantic attempt to get rid of the cigarette. He dropped it and mashed it under his foot, then looked to see who was coming.  
 

Chet walked toward him. He seemed hesitant, as if afraid of what Johnny’s reaction would be.  
 

“John, Cap wants to see you in his office,” Chet said, watching Johnny’s face closely. 
 

“Okay.” Johnny waited for Chet to turn away, then he quickly scraped the cigarette under the Rover. 
 

Hank smiled as Johnny came into the office. “Close the door,” he instructed. 
 

Johnny did so, then waited, hoping his face didn’t look as frightened as he felt. He’s gonna suspend me again. 
 

“John, are you still seeing Dr. Driscoll?” Hank asked without preamble. 
 

“Uh…Dr. Driscoll…” Johnny stumbled, completely unprepared. “Uh, no.” 
 

“Well, I think that it might be a good idea for you to go back. You know, just to make sure your head is clear.” 
 

“Uh, okay. If you want me to.” 
 

“Well, it’s not that I want you to, but I think that you’ve got some things to discuss with him.”  
 

Hank went to the chair that sat next to John’s and pulled it so that it faced the paramedic. He then sat down. 
 

“John, I’d like to talk to you about something. Now, you can tell me that it’s none of my business and I’ll leave it alone, but I’d really like you to hear what I’ve got to say.” 
 

Johnny swallowed hard. “What?” he asked. 
 

Hank lowered his head, collecting his thoughts, then began speaking without looking at John. “I have a younger sister, Lorraine. I’ve probably mentioned her. Growing up, we were very close, but we have a stronger bond now because of something that happened to her.” He paused. “About eight years ago, my sister was raped. She was home alone and an intruder broke in and attacked her. He was never caught. For a long time after the rape, Lorraine had a difficult time. She wasn’t married, so she kind of turned to me for support. We spent many hours just talking, but it was a very, very difficult time for her. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. She was afraid of everything. She wouldn’t leave the house, and when she was in the house she locked every door and window.” For the first time Hank looked up and met John’s eyes. “Johnny, I’ve seen the same symptoms in you. I know that it’s not exactly the same thing, but those men raped you.” 
 

Johnny flinched at the word. Rape! No…how could a man be raped? He brought his hands to his face. “Cap…I…” What to say? Rape… 
 

Hank sighed. “Maybe if you can recognize what happened, you’ll be able to finally get past it. Maybe if you know that I understand.” 
 

Johnny’s breath caught. He felt a sudden kinship with his captain, a bond beyond the already strong relationship.  
 

Hank went on. “I can’t know what it was like for you, but I know from Lorraine’s experience that you need support and help. I want you to know that I’m here for you. And so are the guys. You need to let them help you. They want to, you know. They just don’t know exactly how.”  
 

“Cap…I didn’t…I mean…” He struggled to find the words. “They forced me…I didn’t…” 
 

Hank raised his hand. “I know. And the guys know it, too. I guess…well, with Lorraine, I went through a stage where I thought she should have done more to prevent the rape. But I know that she didn’t do anything wrong.” He leaned closer to John. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
 

Johnny felt tears well in his eyes, and it was with tremendous relief that he watched Hank get up and walk to the door.  
 

“Take a few minutes,” Hank said without looking back. “I’ll close the door.” 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

“John, it’s good to see you again. I understand that your captain wants you to continue coming.” 
 

“Yeah. I kinda screwed up,” Johnny admitted. 
 

“At work?” 
 

“Well, that’s why I’m here, but—” 
 

“What?” Driscoll prodded. 
 

Johnny jumped to his feet. “Uh, well, I had a talk with Cap, and he said something that…that scares me.” 
 

“What was it?” 
 

The paramedic paced the room, knowing what he wanted to say but finding it so difficult to say the word. “Doc…uh…” He stopped in the farthest corner, physically as far away from Driscoll as he could get. “Doc…was I…uh…raped?” 
 

Driscoll took a deep breath. “Is that what your captain said?” 
 

“Yeah. His sister was raped, and he said that he recognized the same symptoms in me.” As he spoke, Johnny pressed even farther into the corner. “Is it true? That I was—that that happened to me?  
 

Driscoll spoke slowly and very deliberately. “John, although the term ‘rape’ is generally used in conjunction with a male forcing sexual intercourse with a woman, I would agree with your captain that the term does describe what happened to you.” 
 

Johnny felt his chest tighten. “I can’t believe it. I mean, it’s not possible. How…” He ran his hand through his hair. “How could they…”  
 

“John, when a woman is raped, her autonomy is taken from her. She is forced into an act that violates her physically and emotionally. This is exactly what happened to you. Even though it was an action that didn’t follow the exact formula for what we think of as a rape, the end result is the same. You were forced to engage in actions that violated you physically and emotionally.” 
 

Johnny was shaking his head. “No…I don’t believe it. I’m not…” He choked over a sob. “It’s not the same. Men don’t get…I wasn’t…I was just beat up, that’s all. Nothing more.”  
 

“John, you know that it was more than getting beat up. But it doesn’t make you less of a man. You had all control taken from you. Those men had the power to do whatever they wanted to do. And unfortunately they chose a sexual assault. In a way, they chose the most humiliating attack possible. They were trying to take away your manhood. But if you can recognize this, then you can beat it.” 
 

Johnny slowly regained his composure as Driscoll spoke. He went back to his chair and sat down.  
 

“Do you understand what I’m saying, John?” 
 

He shrugged. “Yes. No. Whatever.” I’ve gotta get out of here. “Isn’t time about up?” he asked, glancing at his watch. 
 

“No, we’ve got more time.” 
 

Johnny sighed. Driscoll remained silent, and John found his thoughts wandering. 
 

Tonight. The pipe. The baggy. At least two beers in the fridge. Sitting on the couch with the pipe in easy reach. Getting high on pot. Not enough beer to get drunk, but the liquor store was just a few blocks out of the way. On the way home he’d stop for some whiskey. The black book. Who was it…Larry? He can get the good stuff…the hard stuff…the real high… 
 

He jumped up, tortured by his own thoughts, very aware of Driscoll’s watching. Pacing the small room, he thrust his hands into his pockets in order to keep them still, desperately needing to talk but petrified of what he would say.  
 

“What are you thinking, John?” 
 

“I’m losing my mind, Doc!” he exclaimed. “I keep doing things…” He again stopped, fighting to keep his composure. “I don’t know…I can’t talk about…I could lose my job.” 
 

“Anything you say in here is confidential, John,” Driscoll reminded him. “You can tell me anything.” 
 

Johnny whirled on him. “Do you want to hear everything? Do you want to hear about how I’ve been smoking weed every night? Is that bad enough for you? And you should see the whiskey…I just got a bottle and it’s gone…I drank it all and I don’t even remember how I drank it! I don’t remember, Doc! Is that bad enough? But there’s more! I know a guy who can get me…” He stopped, fearful of what he was about to say. “I know a guy who can get me heroin,” he blurted. “I have his number, and I want to call him…every night I find a reason to not call, but…” His voice broke. “What am I doing to myself, Doc? Why am I doing these things that I know are wrong? It’s like…” He struggled to keep talking. “Doc, it’s like I’m losing my mind…I feel like I’ve lost my mind!” 
 

“John, let me make one thing very clear. You have not lost your mind. You are confused right now, and you’re acting out, but every reaction you’ve had is very normal.” 
 

Johnny smirked at him. “I’m an LA firefighter and paramedic,” he needlessly reminded the counselor. “I’ll lose my job if they find out what I’ve been doing.” 
 

“The only thing you’ve done that could endanger your job is buying and smoking pot, and at this point I’m not going to turn you in. Heroin, on the other hand, is not only illegal but very dangerous, and I would caution you to think very carefully before using it.” 
 

“So at what point am I busted?” Johnny asked mirthlessly. “When I show up at the station high? How about a high rise rescue after I’ve smoked a joint? Would that be enough to cause you to go to my captain?” 
 

Driscoll shook his head. “You can’t depend on me to tell you how to behave. You know the standards that you need to follow. Because of your trauma you have relaxed your standards while in the safety of your apartment, but you have shown enough fortitude to remain professional at work. I expect that you will continue to use proper judgment when dealing with the public, but like I said, I can’t tell you how to behave at home. That is something that you need to control yourself.” 
 

“So why am I here, then?” Johnny replied bitterly. “I mean, my life’s falling apart, and you’re not helping me.” 
 

“I think that I am helping you discover your inner strengths. You have endured a tremendous trauma, and yes, you are having difficulties. The drinking and drugs are attempts you have chosen to deal with the problem. They are not the best ways of coping, but they indicate a desire to beat this problem. What I am going to suggest is that you face the assault head on. Stop trying to forget it. That’s why you’re drinking. You’re pushing the assault away. Once you face it, and I mean completely face it, you’ll be able to cope without the alcohol and marijuana.” 
 

“What if I don’t want to face it?” Johnny’s gaze met the psychologist’s, and all of the pain that he had endured seemed to pool in his eyes. “What if I just want it all to go away?” 
 

Driscoll’s face conveyed a deep sympathy. “It won’t go away, John. I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, but it’s the only way you’ll ever have peace. You’ve got to face what happened.” 
 

John considered Driscoll’s words. “Well, then, I guess I’m on the road to hell, because I’m not gonna face it. There’s nothing to face.” 
 

“John—” 
 

“No.” Johnny went to the door. “It’s over, Doc.” 
 

“I want you to come back on Friday.” 
 

“Twice in one week?” Johnny chuckled. “Man, you must really think I’m in bad shape.” He left the office. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Roy jerked awake, then reached for the phone. A glance at the clock radio brought a muted curse to his lips.  
 

“Hello?” he said gruffly. 
 

“Roy?” Johnny’s voice greeted him. “Uh—can you come over?” 
 

“Now? Johnny, it’s three in the morning.” 
 

“I know.” Roy could hear a quiver in his friend’s voice, and he listened more carefully. “I just need you to come over. Please.” 
 

“Okay. I’ll be over in a couple minutes.” 
 

“Please hurry, Roy.” 
 

A new possibility occurred to Roy. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?” 
 

“No, nothing like that. I just need you to come over quickly.” 
 

“I’ll be right over.” Roy hung up the phone and pulled on his clothes. What was going on? 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny wandered his apartment, pausing every minute or so to listen intently by the door. He pointedly avoided looking in the direction of his kitchen table. 
 

At last a soft knock at the door announced Roy’s arrival. Johnny dashed for the door and let him in. 
 

“Roy. Come in.” 
 

The older man stepped in, looking around for some clue for why he had been called over. The apartment was untidy, as usual, with several beer cans littering the coffee table. A haze of cigarette smoke filled the rooms, and the ashtray was filled with butts.  
 

Johnny pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it while Roy waited. He knew that he needed to explain himself, but his courage was beginning to fail him. 
 

“I got here as fast as I could,” Roy finally said. 
 

“I appreciate it,” John acknowledged, nervously taking a drag on his cigarette. 
 

“So what’s going on?” 
 

“Uh…I want you to…” Johnny ran his hand through his hair, then pointed at the kitchen table. “Those things on the table. I want you to throw them away. Please.” He backed away from the table as though afraid of what lay on it. 
 

Roy looked at the table, moved closer, then nearly gasped. A filled syringe and a rubber strap lay side by side. Roy swallowed, then turned to face Johnny. 
 

“What’s in the syringe?” he asked flatly. 
 

Johnny looked up from the corner into which he had flattened himself. “I—uh—” 
 

“Is it heroin?” Roy broke in. 
 

Johnny nodded. 
 

“Did you use any?” 
 

John found his voice. “No!”  
 

Roy picked up the syringe and strap. “Johnny…why? What are you thinking?” 
 

The dark haired man was shaking his head. “Roy, throw them away! Get rid of them before—” 
 

“Before what? Before you use it?” Roy thrust the items at Johnny. “What is this, Johnny? What’s going on with you? Don’t you care about your job…your life? How can you do this to yourself?” 
 

“I told you I didn’t use it!” Johnny cried.  
 

“Why do you have it in the first place?” Roy shot back. “You know better! You see overdoses all the time. How can you even consider using this stuff?” 
 

Johnny didn’t answer. Instead he slid down the wall, his face twisted as he struggled to keep from breaking down.  
 

Roy waited, his chest heaving as he attempted to regain his composure. When he spoke, it was with a heavily controlled voice.  
 

“Johnny, please…please stop and think before you use that stuff. I…I know that you’ve been through hell, but please think. This stuff will ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for. Don’t throw it all away. Fight it. You’re too good to throw everything away.” 
 

“Roy…” The single word slipped past a sob. “I don’t want to use it. I don’t know why I bought it.” Johnny wiped his face. “I feel so bad.” 
 

Roy placed the syringe and strap in his pocket. “I’m gonna throw these away. And then that’ll be the end of it. Okay?” 
 

Johnny looked up at Roy. “I don’t know…” 
 

“Johnny, you can’t use this stuff.” 
 

“I know, but…”  
 

“What?” Roy knelt before John. “What’s wrong?” 
 

“I just can’t believe that this has happened.” 
 

The enormity of the situation caused both men to pause. It was Johnny who finally broke the reverie. 
 

“I’m sorry, Roy. For all of this. I’m sorry I called you out here, and I’m sorry I bought that stuff. I don’t know why I’m doing this.” 
 

“Well, you can stop right now.” Roy patted his pocket. “I’ll get rid of this, and you can forget it ever happened. It’s over now.” 
 

It’s not over. “I wish it was over. I don’t know…” John pulled himself to his feet and moved to the couch. “Things are happening,” he went on in a small voice, “and I don’t think that I’m in control anymore. I can’t seem to do what I want to do. It’s like I don’t have any control.” 
 

Roy cautiously sat next to him. “Well, you did lose control for a little while. But you’re strong. I know you can beat this. And pretty soon you’ll look back on this and know that you beat it.” 
 

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know anymore, Roy. I mean, if you’d asked me before all of this if I’d be sitting here tonight with—that drug—well, I’d have told you you were crazy.” 
 

“You slipped. It’s okay, though. You didn’t use it, and everything’s okay.” 
 

You really want to believe that, don’t you partner? I can see it in your face. You’re scared out of your mind that I’m not going to make it. “Roy, I’m not sure that—that everything’s okay.” 
 

“Sure it is! You’re gonna beat this, Johnny. I’ll help you all the way.” 
 

Johnny impatiently sprang from the couch. “Roy, you’re not listening to me!” he exclaimed, beginning to pace the living room. “I’m not so sure that I can beat this! I don’t know myself anymore! Everything’s changed, but you don’t want to see it!” 
 

Roy also got up. “But I’ll help you! I promise—” 
 

“No! You can’t promise me! You can’t save me! You couldn’t save me at the bar and you can’t save me now!”
 

Roy’s mouth dropped open, and Johnny felt his gut wrench at the stricken _expression on his friend’s face. “Roy, I didn’t mean that.” 
 

But Roy had already turned for the door. “You’re right, Johnny,” he said, his voice thick. “I didn’t save you before, and I’m just hurting you more by trying to help you now. I’m sorry.” The door closed before Johnny could say any more. 
 

“Roy…” Johnny started to go to the door, stopped, then stood, his head lowered in abject defeat. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Roy closed the bedroom door as quietly as possible, but he knew immediately that Joanne was awake and waiting for him. 
 

“Well?” 
 

“It was Johnny. He wanted me to sit with him for awhile.” 
 

“And…?” 
 

Roy dropped his shirt onto the floor. “And nothing. I sat with him, and here I am.” 
 

“Roy, this can’t go on. You’re driving yourself into exhaustion. You can’t run over there in the middle of the night.” 
 

“Yes I can,” Roy snapped. He took off his pants and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have to,” he went on softly. 
 

“Why?” 
 

Roy suddenly realized that he couldn’t talk. He struggled to keep his constricted throat quiet, but Joanne knew him too well, and he felt her arms wrap around him. 
 

“It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I shouldn’t have fussed. But you’re tearing yourself up over this, and it wasn’t your fault.” 
 

Roy furiously turned toward her. “Wasn’t it?” he hissed. “What did I do to help him? Nothing! I could’ve used the fire extinguisher, but I didn’t. I could’ve tried harder to get to him, but I didn’t! And do you know why? Do you want to know the real reason why I let my best friend get assaulted? Because I was too scared, that’s why! I was too scared to help him, and now look at him! Do you know why he called me over tonight? Because he had heroin, and he wanted me to stop him from using it! Do you have any idea what kind of a lowdown son of a bitch that makes me? It’s all my fault! I let him down, Joanne! He was counting on me to help him, and I let him down!”  
 

Joanne shook her head. “Roy, it wasn’t your fault! Honey, you can’t blame yourself for what happened! You could have been assaulted or killed if you’d gone back in there!” 
 

“Yeah, I’m a real hero, saving myself while my partner is nearly killed.” Roy wrenched from Joanne’s grasp and took several steps away from the bed, from his wife. “I can’t stand what I’ve done to him,” he said in a low voice. 
 

Joanne stood up but didn’t approach Roy. “You didn’t hurt him,” she said flatly. “You helped him as soon as you could. And tonight, you didn’t make him get heroin. He did that on his own. I am so sorry about what happened to him, but I refuse to allow you to take the blame for it.” She slowly moved closer to him. “Don’t destroy yourself over this. I think that you were injured just as much as Johnny was, but your injuries are on the inside, and nobody can see them. Nobody except me.” She tentatively reached for her husband, clasping his arm with both of her hands. “I can see what this has done to you, and I want you to know that I love you. No matter what harm you think you did, I love you more than anything. Can you accept that?” 
 

Roy looked down at his wife, felt her touch, and then collapsed into her, his shoulders convulsing as he sobbed. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny stepped into his apartment, then closed and locked his door. He had managed to wait nearly an hour after Roy’s departure, but the black thoughts gave him no peace, and he had finally given in to them. He had no recollection of the drive, and he barely remembered passing the money into the waiting hands of the dealer. But he vividly recalled the feel of the paper bag. He had taken the bag without looking inside, knowing what nestled inside but not wanting to see it until absolutely necessary.  
 

This time he would make no desperate phone call. This time he would not stop. 
 

He set the bag onto the coffee table, then, lighting a cigarette, sat on the couch and stared at the brown bag.  
 

The thoughts pummeled him. Again and again, making him dizzy with their intensity. The forbidden, the wrong, so tantalizing. He felt high already. 
 

He snubbed out the cigarette and nonchalantly opened the bag. Reaching in without looking, he first pulled out the strap and dropped it on the table. Then the syringe. He stared at it, imagining the sharp prick that he would feel, the sensation of a foreign body invading his vein, creating the venue for his horrid adventure. Finally he pulled out the tiny bottle with the clear liquid. 
 

Heroin. Unless told what it was, or recognized by its surrounding paraphernalia, it appeared to be harmless, like water. He nearly grinned as he thought about it. A harmless liquid, he could tell someone. See? Nothing to it. But as soon as it was drawn up into the syringe, its trappings fell away, and its true nature was revealed. Just like me. No one ever knew how bad I was. What would they say if they could see me now?  
 

He picked up the strap and automatically wrapped it around his upper arm. Stop! Making a fist, he easily brought up a vein. How many times have I done this for a patient? How many times have I helped someone? But I can’t help myself. He removed the cap from the needle and stared at the point. How can I do this to myself? Taking a deep breath, he placed the tip of the needle against his skin, then smoothly pushed it into his vein. Why? He released the strap, allowing it to fall to the floor. Stop this! With his thumb, he pushed the plunger. Help me, Roy! He quickly withdrew the needle, then also dropped it to the floor. What have I done? He backed until he felt the couch against his legs, then he fell onto the cushion. What am I gonna do? He waited, petrified, for the drug to take effect, and then suddenly he didn’t care anymore… 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

He had determined to skip his appointment with Dr. Driscoll, but something made him climb into the Rover and drive to the office at the appointed time. 
 

He sat in the waiting room, perched on the edge of his seat, aware of the glances he was receiving from an older woman also waiting. Every minute or so he sprang to his feet and paced the room for a moment before returning to his seat in preparation for his next manic tour. 
 

At last Dr. Driscoll opened the door, and Johnny was able to escape the scrutiny. 
 

“Sorry I kept you waiting, John,” Driscoll began, taking his customary seat. 
 

“It’s okay.” Johnny tried to sit, but his waiting room act had invited itself into the office, and he was quickly engaged in his pacing. 
 

“What’s up?” Driscoll questioned, craning his neck to follow his patient around the room. 
 

Johnny paused long enough to look at the doctor. “Just the usual.” 
 

“And that would be…?” 
 

“I screwed up again.” 
 

“Tell me about it.” 
 

“No…I can’t.” Johnny settled on the edge of his seat for a moment. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 
 

“Why not?” 
 

“Because…” John groped for the correct word. “Because it’s too…too bad. Too terrible.” 
 

“Is this something that I would perceive as terrible?” 
 

Johnny pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Yeah,” he finally answered.  
 

“John, you’re obviously upset by what you’ve done. I’d like to help you, but you’ve got to share with me.” Driscoll leaned forward. “Will you?” 
 

“I don’t know.” Johnny managed to stay in his seat for a few minutes, nervously smoking and bouncing his leg. “Doc…?” 
 

“Yes?” 
 

Johnny jumped up and began his pacing again. “I’m not the same anymore, Doc. Everything’s changed. I’ve done things that I never dreamed I’d ever do. And I can’t ever go back.” 
 

“What’s changed?” 
 

John returned to his seat, where he sat with his head bowed. “Doc…I…I used heroin. I didn’t want to, but I did. I bought it and I sat on my couch and got high on heroin.” 
 

Dr. Driscoll frowned. “Why did you use the heroin, John?” 
 

Johnny met Driscoll’s eyes. “Because I want to be bad,” he stated. 
 

Driscoll’s eyebrows raised despite his efforts to prevent it. “Why?” 
 

“Because…” Johnny hesitated, staring at his cigarette. “Because I am,” he finished simply. 
 

“You believe that you’re bad?” 
 

“I am. Dirty. Ugly.” 
 

“Because…” 
 

“I’m not worth helping. He left me again. There’s a reason for that. I’m not worth saving. And I don’t care anymore.” Johnny finished his cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. “I’m not coming back here. I’m not going back to work, either.” 
 

“So what are you going to do?” 
 

Johnny fished another cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, then lifted empty eyes to Driscoll.

"Nothing,” he mumbled. “Maybe I’ll be raped again.” 
 

Driscoll couldn’t hide his shock. “Why would you say something like that?” 
 

“Why?” Johnny stared at the ceiling, studying the patterns of smoke. “Well, why shouldn’t I be raped again?” 
 

“Because you don’t deserve that!” Driscoll replied passionately. “Don’t let them win, John. They took a great deal from you, but you can beat them. I know you can!” He searched John’s face.  
 

But Johnny merely sat in the chair, smoking with a hand that trembled, staring with an _expression that was too studied, too calm, too frightening. 
 

Driscoll ended the session early when his patient refused to say anything more, and as John walked to his Rover, the psychologist stared at the notes that he had written, wondering if he was ever going to break through the wall of disbelief that had been so carefully constructed. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Dr. Brackett watched with surprise as Vince walked through the emergency room doors leading an unsteady Johnny with him. A nurse met the pair, and after exchanging a few words, took John to Exam Two. 
 

“What’s going on, Vince?” 
 

The policeman glanced around, then guided Dr. Brackett to a quiet corner. “I’ve been following a guy who deals heroin. Tonight I finally busted him.” He once again looked around. “Doc, John was with him.” 
 

Brackett’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that’s a bit unsettling, but I still don’t know why Johnny’s here.” 
 

Vince hesitated. “The dealer and some other guys were arrested for possession. There were a lot of people around, and most were either shooting up or buying heroin. John was in the middle of all that.” 
 

“Wait a minute, Vince. Did you find any heroin on Johnny? Did you see him using any?” 
 

“No, I didn’t, but why else would he be there?” 
 

Brackett’s normal reserve slipped. “There has to be another reason! Did you ask him why he was there?” 
 

Vince gave the doctor a hard look. “Yes I did. And he couldn’t answer me. He was too busy pulling his sleeves down.” 
 

“Damn.” Brackett rubbed the back of his neck. “As if he hasn’t been through enough already…” 
 

“Man, I’m sorry. But the only reason that I didn’t take him to the station was because I know what he’s gone through. I know he needs help.”  
 

The policeman left, and Brackett stood outside the exam room, dreading the duty he faced on the other side of the door. 
 

He found Johnny sitting on the exam table, his arms wrapped around his torso. Hair in disarray, his clothes wrinkled, and his eyes lowered, the young man seemed to be a totally different person. 
 

“Johnny, how’re you feeling?” 
 

“Hey, Doc. I’m okay.” 
 

“That’s good to hear. Vince was kind of concerned about you.” 
 

“Yeah, I guess.” Johnny glanced up at Brackett. “So how about letting me out of here?” 
 

“Not so fast,” Brackett replied. “I’d like to check you over. You don’t look too hot.” 
 

“I’m just a little run down.” Johnny tried to scoot off the exam table, but Brackett’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. 
 

“Hold on, mister, I need to check you out.” 
 

“I told you I’m fine!” the paramedic protested too strongly. “I just need to go home, that’s all.” 
 

Brackett took a deep breath. “Johnny, Vince says you were with a heroin dealer. He says that there were others around shooting up. I want you to level with me. Did you take something?” 
 

“What? Did I take something?” John hazarded a glance at the doctor. “What are you talking about?” 
 

“Did you use heroin, Johnny?” 
 

“No! No, of course not!” Johnny managed to jump from the table. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this!” 
 

“Look at me, Johnny.” 
 

The younger man flicked his eyes up, then back down. “What is this, Doc?”  
 

“Let me see your eyes.” 
 

“Oh, man, this is too much,” John exclaimed, avoiding the doctor’s gaze. 
 

“All right, then, let me draw blood,” Brackett challenged. 
 

“Man, I really cannot believe this!” Johnny headed for the door. “This is way too much!” 
 

“Can I see your arms?” Brackett called after him. 
 

John whirled on him. “I’m not a junkie,” he stated, his face red. 
 

“Just let me see your arms.” 
 

“This is ridiculous! Why would Vince say something like that about me?” John stood at the door, desperate to push his way through but still held by the doctor’s presence.  
 

“Maybe because he cares about you. Maybe because he doesn’t want to see you go down a path that you don’t want to be on.” Brackett took a tentative step toward his friend. “Maybe because he knows what you’ve been through, and he knows that drugs can seem like an easy escape.” 
 

The implications of Brackett’s words swirled around Johnny’s head, pushing the haze and the guilt and the shame away, and he abruptly realized that he had been caught. With downcast eyes he returned to the table and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the newly marred skin over the veins in both arms.  
 

Brackett sighed. “How long have you been…” 
 

“Two weeks,” Johnny whispered. 
 

“Oh, Johnny.” Brackett paused, then asked the dreaded question. “I’ve got to know. Did you shoot up before Vince got there?”  
 

John lowered his head, then nodded.  
 

Brackett rubbed his chin. “Johnny, you do realize that I’ve got to report this.” 
 

“I know.” 
 

The doctor leaned toward his friend, his hand raised to pat John on the shoulder, but he quickly withdrew it and instead left the room.  
 

Johnny never looked up. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Dr. Morton yawned as he picked up the chart and stepped toward Exam Two. His shift was nearly over, and he couldn’t wait to get out of Rampart. Too many loonies and malingerers had driven him over his short temper, and now he was about to inform another loser that his drug test had come back positive. 
 

“Try to do someone a favor, and this is what I get,” he grumbled to himself, wishing he had grabbed another chart. With a frustrated sigh, he pushed open the door. 
 

“Gage?” Morton stopped cold at sight of the bedraggled figure that huddled on the table in Exam Two. He looked down at the chart and for the first time saw the patient’s name: John Gage. 
 

“Uh, this must be a mistake,” Morton said, scanning the chart. “A drug test? Gage, what’s going on?” 
 

“Didn’t Brackett tell you?” Johnny replied quietly. 
 

“I haven’t seen Dr. Brackett,” Morton informed him. “In fact, I was trying to help him out by taking a few of his charts. I sure didn’t expect to find you in here, and for a drug test.” 
 

“So what’s the result?” Johnny asked. 
 

Morton once again perused the chart. “Gage, this doesn’t make any sense. According to this, you’ve tested positive for heroin.” 
 

“Oh. Big surprise.” 
 

“Big surprise!” Morton approached the paramedic. “You don’t sound very surprised. Are you telling me that this isn’t some mistake?” 
 

“It’s no mistake,” John said, raising his eyes to Morton’s.  
 

Morton stared at Johnny, his face growing darker with every loaded moment. At last he turned and slammed the chart down on the counter, then whirled back on the hushed patient. 
 

“What kind of a fool have you become, Gage?” he shouted. “Of all the stupid, asinine stunts to pull, this one beats all! What in the hell were you thinking when you injected heroin into your veins? Or were you thinking at all? Does your career mean nothing to you? All your hard work? I just don’t get you at all! Yes, you have gone through a terrible ordeal, and yes, you’re hurting, but you don’t throw it all away for a temporary high!” 
 

He stepped up to Johnny, who had not moved a muscle during the tirade. “Listen to me, John. Listen!” He seized Johnny’s arm and roughly shoved up the sleeve. “Look at that! Those marks represent your giving up! That’s not the John Gage I know. The John Gage I know would fight with everything he has against this. The John Gage I know would never give in to drugs! Fight back, man! Fight hard! Because if you don’t, you’re gonna end up in some alley, pushing needles into your legs because your arms are gonna blow out. Don’t let those bastards win, John!” He dropped Johnny’s arm and waited. 
 

Johnny sniffed, then wiped his nose. “I’ve…tried, but—” 
 

Morton cut him off. “Don’t feed me that shit! Don’t even try it. You need to try harder. You need to succeed. There is no other choice.” 
 

“It’s not that easy!” John responded.  
 

“Nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said getting over what happened to you would be simple. But the minute you injected that drug into your body, you gave up. You betrayed yourself, and you betrayed all of your friends who have stood by you.” 
 

“Maybe they betrayed me,” Johnny muttered. 
 

Morton slapped the table next to John. “No! I won’t accept that! I’ve seen Roy come in here, and I’m telling you, the man has aged ten years! He has worried himself sick over you, so don’t you tell me that he betrayed you, because I won’t accept it.” 
 

“Just leave me alone, okay?” John twisted away from the doctor, stifling a yawn. 
 

“What’s the matter? The heroin kicking in? Getting sleepy? Yeah, you’re a classic junkie, Gage.” 
 

“Kiss my ass.” 
 

“What you need is a good kick in the ass,” Morton shot back. “Look, I don’t enjoy getting tough with you, but I don’t want to see this happen to you. I care about you. We all do.” 
 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore! Just leave me alone!” 
 

“You can’t run away from it! Take responsibility for what you’ve done, man! Put your life back together!” 
 

Johnny jumped from the table. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted in Morton’s face.  
 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Morton retorted, grabbing John’s arm. 
 

Johnny jerked away, then swung at the doctor’s head. Morton blocked the punch, but then received a blow to his midsection.  
 

“Damn it, Gage, knock it off!” Morton wrestled Johnny backward and pinned him to the table. “Now stop it!” 
 

“What’s going on in here!” Brackett barked from the door.  
 

“Gage is acting the fool,” Morton supplied, slightly out of breath. 
 

“Let me go!” Johnny spat, powerless on his back. 
 

“Let him up, Mike,” Brackett said. 
 

“Fine. Maybe you can deal with him, because I don’t know what to do for him anymore.” 
 

“Just go, Mike. I’ve got it.” 
 

The doctor backed away from Gage, then, muttering under his breath, left the exam room. Brackett waited a moment for Johnny to gather himself, standing with his arms folded and his face grim. 
 

“Well, Johnny?” 
 

John glared at him. “Well, what? He came in here and started badgering me. What am I supposed to do, just sit by and take it?” 
 

“Well, Mike can be a little harsh at times, but in your case it’s because he cares about you.” 
 

“Yeah, I keep hearing that,” John said sarcastically. “I just don’t know if I believe it.” 
 

“You should believe it, because it’s the truth. Everybody has been pulling for you since this whole ordeal began.” 
 

“Whatever.” John gestured toward the chart. “Morton already gave me the bad news.” 
 

Brackett turned and retrieved the chart. “I’m sorry it’s turned out this way, Johnny. I truly am. But we’ll help you through this.” 
 

“Save your effort,” John said. “It’s not worth it.” 
 

Brackett stared at his friend, and wondered if he was right. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

The minute Roy saw Brice in the locker room he knew that Johnny had slipped. Nodding at the replacement paramedic, he nearly ran for Cap’s office. 
 

“Where’s Johnny?” he asked without preamble. 
 

Hank looked up from his desk. “Close the door,” he said. 
 

Roy did so, then waited, his heart pounding. 
 

Hank sighed heavily. “John won’t be in for awhile. He’s been suspended pending a hearing.” He paused, eyeing Roy closely. “I have a feeling you already know what happened,” he remarked. 
 

“I have a pretty good idea, but I’d give anything to be wrong.” 
 

Hank rubbed his eyes. “This is the worst part of being a captain,” he mumbled. “You grow to love your men as though they are your sons, and then something like this happens.” 
 

“He used heroin, didn’t he?” 
 

Hank didn’t answer verbally. Instead he nodded as though he were extremely tired. 
 

Roy found the chair and fell into it. “I should’ve tried harder. He was asking me for help, and I didn’t do enough.” 
 

“Roy—” 
 

“No!” Roy got back to his feet. “I blew it! I might as well be suspended along with him, because this is my fault.” 
 

Hank also stood up. “You’re being way too hard on yourself, Roy!” 
 

“Am I?” Roy leaned forward. “Who stood outside that bar and listened to his best friend scream? Who stood there and did nothing because he was too busy saving his own ass?” Roy’s face grew darker. “Do you know how I knew about the heroin?” he asked savagely. “Because he called me over to his apartment one night and asked me to take it away from him! And instead of insisting—insisting that he get some help, I fed him some bull about how he could beat this!” 
 

“Roy, you did the best you could. This isn’t your fault.” 
 

Roy stood before his captain, his fists clenched. “Where is he?” he asked as calmly as he could. 
 

“Home, I believe. He won’t be charged, but he goes before the committee next week.” 
 

“Cap, how bad…” 
 

Hank pursed his lips before answering. “He could be removed from the paramedic program,” he said. 
 

Roy cursed under his breath. “This isn’t right. Johnny needs help, not punishment.” 
 

“I couldn’t agree more. But regulations are regulations. Maybe if we had gotten to him before he was tested, we might’ve been able to help him without…outside intervention.” Hank wrung his hands. “But it’s beyond our control now. All we can do now is offer our testimony.” 
 

Roy’s chuckle was harsh. “Yeah, great. Just great. I know how much Johnny’s gonna appreciate that.” He left the office without another word. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Roy hung up the phone and stood deep in thought. Joanne watched him, then went to him and touched his arm. 
 

“Who was it, honey?” she asked, searching her husband’s face. 
 

“Dr. Driscoll. He’s Johnny’s psychologist. He wants me to be part of a joint counseling session tomorrow.” 
 

“Oh.” Joanne waited, watching Roy’s face as it registered confusion, dismay, and finally acceptance. “So will you go?” 
 

He looked down at her. “I have no choice. Johnny needs me.” 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Roy sat in Dr. Driscoll’s office facing an empty chair. Dr. Driscoll stood across from him. 
 

“I appreciate your coming over on such short notice, Roy.” 
 

Roy shrugged. “It’s the least I can do,” he said stiffly. 
 

Driscoll studied him. “This will help at the hearing.” 
 

“Great.” 
 

“And it should help John recover.” 
 

Roy said nothing, and Driscoll sat down opposite him. “Roy, I know you’re feeling guilty about all of this, but—” 
 

“We’re not here for me,” Roy interrupted. “So let’s get on with it.” 
 

Driscoll continued as though he had not heard Roy. “But you need to understand that John has made his own decisions. He has allowed himself to descend into behaviors that have unfortunately gotten him into trouble, but with your help we can get him back on his feet. There are a few things that I want to discuss with you first. This is going to be a difficult session for John. He has resisted facing what happened to him at the bar. Today I hope to get him talking about what happened. As you know, he has a great deal of anger and resentment toward you.” 
 

“Yeah, I know,” Roy replied flatly. 
 

“I just don’t want you to take it personally. Tall order, I know, but John needs you to be the strong one today. He needs to realize that you’re still his friend, even after the terrible things he has done.” 
 

Roy bristled. “You can’t blame him for what happened—” 
 

Driscoll held up his hands. “No, I’m not blaming him. He believes that he has done terrible things, and he blames you and himself. We need to get him to accept that yes, he fell, but he can still recover. To get him to that point, he needs to face the assault…and your failure.” 
 

Roy flinched. “My failure,” he repeated softly. 
 

“Whether real or not, it doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that John must work through the events and his feelings about them. Some of these feelings are going to hurt you, but I suspect that your friendship will sustain both of you in the end.” 
 

Driscoll paused and looked at Roy. He looked vaguely frightened. “It’s going to be all right,” the psychologist told him. “Just remember that John needs you.”  
 

Roy straightened his shoulders. “I’m ready,” he said. 
 

Driscoll went to the door and beckoned. “John? Come on in.” 
 

Johnny slipped into the room and sank into the empty chair. He slouched with his head bowed and his hands clasped. 
 

Driscoll took his position against the wall where he could observe the interplay between the two men. “John, I’ve explained the format to Roy, and I think that we’re ready to begin. We’re going to go back to that night in the bar. Remember that you’re going to speak directly to Roy. You’re going to tell him exactly how you felt that night. When we’re done, both of you should have a better understanding of what happened and how John has attempted to cope with it.” He turned to Johnny. “Are you ready?” he asked. 
 

Johnny shrugged. “Doc, I don’t know if I can do this.” 
 

“I know you’re not sure about this, John, but you know that you want to get better. I believe that this is the way to do just that.” Driscoll smiled. “This is your time. Roy is here for you.” 
 

Johnny rubbed his eyes, then took a cigarette from his pocket to try to stall. He could sense Roy’s scrutiny, and he knew that his friend was at least as uncomfortable as he was.  
 

“What are you thinking, John?” Driscoll’s voice interrupted his musings.  
 

“Um, I’m thinking that I don’t want to be here. And I don’t think Roy wants to be either.”  
 

“Talk directly to him, John.” 
 

Johnny sighed. “I’m sorry to make you go through this.” 
 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Roy replied. 
 

John processed Roy’s response for a moment. “Maybe not at first…but now I am.” 
 

“What are you doing wrong, John?” Driscoll interspersed.  
 

“You know.” 
 

“Tell Roy.” 
 

“He knows, too. I don’t want to talk about it.” 
 

“Why did you use the heroin?” 
 

Johnny glared at Driscoll. “You just don’t quit, do you?” 
 

“Not when it’s important,” the psychologist replied. “So explain to Roy why you used the heroin.” 
 

“I—I guess because I’m bad, so I should act like it. I don’t want to believe that it happened.”  
 

Johnny forced himself to breathe deeply. “I can’t believe it.” 
 

“What happened, John?” 
 

“Well, the bar.” 
 

“What happened in the bar?” 
 

Johnny shifted his feet. “I was…assaulted.” 
 

“Is that all?” 
 

“Oh, man…” I can’t do this. I can’t do this… 
 

“John, tell Roy how you felt at the bar.” 
 

“I can’t.” 
 

“Talk to Roy. Tell him how you felt at the bar.” 
 

Johnny lifted his clasped hands to his face. “I was scared,” he whispered from behind his hands. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted…I wanted you to help me.” He dropped his hands into his lap, his fingers intertwined so tight that his knuckles gleamed white. “Roy, you left me. You abandoned me in that bar.” He dared to look up at his friend, fearful of what he would say, but Roy’s face remained impassive. “I know that it’s not true, but—” 
 

“John, don’t worry about that,” Driscoll broke in. “Just tell him what you were thinking.” 
 

Johnny took a deep breath, then glanced at the man facing him. His friend. His partner. Sitting silent but with an _expression that bespoke deep suffering.  
 

“Okay…I felt like you had left me to that mob. I felt like…I couldn’t believe that you weren’t coming back for me.” 
 

“Go on, John,” Driscoll gently prodded. 
 

“I was so…scared. I…they hurt me so badly.” Johnny paused and rubbed his eyes. “They held me down and I couldn’t move, and I just wanted you to come and get me away from them, and you didn’t come.” 
 

“How did you feel, John?” 
 

Johnny looked briefly at Driscoll, then back at Roy. “I…I was so…scared. I…I wanted them to stop. I wanted Roy to help me.” 
 

“And how did you feel when he didn’t help you?” 
 

“Well, I was scared—” 
 

“Yes, you were scared of the men attacking you, but how did you feel about Roy?” 
 

Johnny stopped, his breaths coming faster and deeper. “I…I wanted him…to help me…I thought he would come…but he didn’t.” 
 

“How did that make you feel?” Driscoll asked again, more forcefully. 
 

John paused again, tormented by Driscoll as much as by the memories. “I…was angry...” he finally managed. “He didn’t come…” 
 

“You were angry? How angry?” 
 

“I…well, angry. I…” 
 

Driscoll dug deeper. “You were being violated by several men, John. They were holding you over a pool table and assaulting you. They forced you into oral sex. They raped you, John. They took everything away from you, and Roy didn’t come to help you. How angry were you? How did you feel?” 
 

Johnny’s face turned red, and he raised clenched fists. “Where were you!” he shouted at Roy. “Why didn’t you help me? They hurt me…my God, they hurt me so bad! I called you…why didn’t you come?” He stood up and took a step toward Roy, gesturing with balled fists. “You left me to them! You fucking left me! Why didn’t you come after me? It was too late when you finally got to me. They’d already hurt me! Didn’t you hear me? I called you but you didn’t come to help me!”  
 

He suddenly dropped into his chair. “Didn’t you hear me?” he asked, his voice pleading. “I called you so many times and I waited so long!” His face transformed into pure fury. “I hate you for doing this to me!” he hissed. “I went through hell! And I don’t want to hear your bullshit about the crowd. I don’t want to hear one fucking word from you, ever!”  
 

He shakily got to his feet and stood swaying before Roy, the fury that enveloped him making him tremble convulsively. He raised his fists, then dropped them, as though unsure of what to do, then stormed to the door, flung it open and hurled himself through.  
 

He fled from the building despite the calls of Driscoll and Roy. Leaping into the Rover, he tore from the parking lot and sped down the street. 
 

The memories…the horrible realization of what he had endured…he couldn’t believe. And yet it had happened. 
 

It was true. 
 

He drove faster, driving to escape but knowing the futility of such an act.  
 

The assault…the rape… 
 

“No!” he shouted, slamming the steering wheel with his open hand. “I won’t think about it!”  
 

The Rover swerved as he maneuvered a corner too fast, for he drove blindly, frantically, not aware of anything beyond the intrusive memories that wouldn’t leave. Once back at his apartment, he literally ran for the privacy of his rooms, not wanting anyone to see him. 
 

As soon as he closed the door he realized that he would not stay at the apartment. Privacy…far away from anyone…somewhere to think—to face the assault.  
 

In a matter of minutes he had packed enough camping gear for three or four days. Two trips to the Rover and he was ready. He sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, a nagging thought making him pause. Call Roy. Talk to him.  
 

“No,” he said aloud. “No.” He put the Rover in gear and drove from the city. He headed for his favorite hiking spot, a trip of thirty minutes. As he unloaded his gear, he could feel his intense anxiety still pulsing, and he wondered if even the haven that surrounded him would allow him to escape. 
 

He hiked rapidly, taking little notice of his surroundings. Anger kept his mind whirling, even though he couldn’t say exactly what he was angry about. He wanted to believe that he was angry with Roy, but when he tried to pinpoint the reason, he came up blank.  
 

He reached his destination after a fast hike. His tent went up quickly, and the fire sprouted with a minimum of effort. As the sun began to dip into the western expanses of the sky, he opened a can of hash even though he wasn’t especially hungry. Tomorrow he’d go fishing in the nearby lake, but tonight he wanted time to think. 
 

A pleasantly cool breeze lifted his hair. Staring down at the unappealing hash, he suddenly found that tears had formed.  
 

“Crybaby,” he chided himself. “Nothing but a crybaby.” He set the bowl down and wiped his face with his hands. 
 

“Johnny?” 
 

He started violently, scrambling to his feet and facing the voice. “Roy!” 
 

His partner emerged from the woods into the clearing. “I thought I remembered how to get here,” he said, panting a bit.  
 

“Roy, just go back home. I don’t want to see anybody.” 
 

“I’m not leaving, so you might as well save your breath.” 
 

Johnny glared at him. “I told you how I felt back at Driscoll’s office. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 
 

“Won’t make any difference. I’m not leaving.” As if to punctuate his point, Roy folded his arms. 
 

“Have it your way, then.” Johnny turned his back and sat back down. 
 

Roy joined him. “You left so suddenly,” he began, watching John out of the corner of his eye. “I think we need to talk some more.” 
 

“I don’t,” John replied shortly. 
 

“You said some things to me that need to be taken care of,” Roy continued. “Y’see, I’m not content to leave things like this. I believe that our relationship is deeper that this. And I’m willing to work for it.” He looked full at John. “Are you?” 
 

Johnny cleared his throat. “I…I don’t know anymore. I don’t know about me…who I am. What I am.” 
 

Roy studied the profile of his friend, taking in the long, slightly crooked nose, the reckless hair, the deep-set eyes. “You’re still John Gage, firefighter and paramedic,” he replied quietly. 
 

John held out his scarred arms. “But look what I’ve done! Look what I’ve become! I can never go back to who I was before.” 
 

Roy’s voice shook when he answered. “Johnny, I am so sorry. I should have done more for you.” 
 

“You tried…” 
 

“I mean, at the bar,” Roy corrected hoarsely. 
 

Johnny’s torso heaved, and he couldn’t look at Roy. “Why didn’t you come in for me?”  
 

Roy wiped his eyes. “I tried. You’ve got to believe me, Johnny!” 
 

John faced Roy. “Then why didn’t you?” he demanded.  
 

“I tried!” A streak of moisture appeared on Roy’s cheek. “I heard you…I wanted to get to you. I swear to God I did!” 
 

“But you didn’t!” Johnny shot back, his own cheeks now wet. “Why not?” 
 

“Because—because I was afraid that they would do it to me, too! I was afraid that whatever they were doing to you they would do to me, too, and I didn’t want to go in! Johnny, you’ve got to believe me, I am so sorry that it happened! I hate myself for what I did to you!” He stopped, his confession overwhelming his ability to speak. 
 

Johnny stared at Roy. “I—I don’t—you didn’t do it to me,” he whispered. “Roy, it wasn’t your fault. I know what I said, but it wasn’t your fault. I tried to blame it on you, but I was wrong. You didn’t make me buy drugs. I did it. I did it all.” He slowly shook his head. “I never thought about what you were going through. All I could think about was myself. But you’re right. If you had gone back in, they would’ve hurt you, too.” He stood up, his back to Roy. “You would’ve been…” He drifted away, unable to face his friend, unable to face himself.  
 

Roy stared at his back, and memories of the long ago night at Melvin’s Place covered them both. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

The chirping of frogs woke him up. At least, that’s what he told himself as he crawled over to the fire. 
 

Poking at the embers, he watched as the glowing wood began to glint in the darkness. Slivers of flame popped into existence. 
 

Moving back a bit, he folded his hands on top of his knees, then rested his chin on his hands.  
 

Staring into the growing fire, he felt his eyes relax their focus. 
 

He knew that the tears were coming, but this time he did nothing to stop them. The memories had won, and he bowed before their strength, admitting that he could no longer fight.  
 

It had happened. 
 

“Why?” he whispered. “Why?” 
 

“Johnny…” 
 

He wasn’t startled, but he jumped just the same, fighting one more time before giving in to his grief.  
 

“Why did they hurt me? Why did they do those things to me?”  
 

Roy’s arm across his shoulder tightened. “Johnny, I’m so sorry.” 
 

“I don’t understand why they did those things to me. I didn’t do anything to them—” Johnny lost his voice in the midst of a sob. “I—I didn’t do anything to them, so why did they hurt me?” 
 

Roy whispered something in his ear. He didn’t hear the words, but it was the voice of his friend. 
 

“It was so bad! What they did to me…it was so bad!” Johnny’s body convulsed, and Roy grasped his hand. “So many things…I didn’t want to believe it!” 
 

“I know, I know. It’s okay now.” 
 

“I didn’t want to believe that they did those things to me…” Johnny lifted his eyes to Roy’s. “My God, Roy, they raped me! They raped me!” 
 

Roy held him tighter, and as the frogs continued their cries, the young paramedic crouched in the arms of his partner and wept at the loss of his previous life. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny sat by the lake, staring into the rippling splashes of sunlit water. Roy stood some feet behind. 
 

“How’re you feeling this morning?” Roy asked, settling next to John. 
 

Johnny shrugged. “I’ve been better, I guess.” 
 

“Yeah, and I’ve seen you a lot worse, too.” 
 

Johnny finally smiled. “Okay, Mary Poppins. I’m feeling better.” He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then coughed as he stubbed it out on a rock next to him. 
 

“You really need to quit smoking, you know.” 
 

“Yeah, I know. Never should’ve started in the first place.” 
 

“Why did you start?” 
 

“’Cause I was dumb.” Johnny plucked a blade of grass and proceeded to pull it apart. “I guess I figured I needed to.” 
 

“I don’t understand.” 
 

Johnny shrugged. “I guess…I thought that smoking fit the way I saw myself. Bad.” 
 

“Is that where the drinking came from, too?” 
 

“Yeah. Mostly. I also wanted to forget…you know.” 
 

“Yep. I know.” 
 

“And when that wasn’t enough, I…” Johnny stopped, studying the pieces that remained of the grass. “…I went to drugs.”  
 

Roy pulled his own piece of greenery from the ground. “I can understand what it was like for you. I mean, not exactly, but I’m not judging you. What you went through…well, I can’t blame you.” 
 

“It was stupid,” John stated. “Flat out stupid.” 
 

Roy cleared his throat. “Johnny, you…you dealt with it the only way you knew how. I don’t blame you, and—” 
 

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because I’m probably out of the department anyway.” 
 

“Now don’t give up. The committee is going to take everything into consideration. Everybody’s behind you in this.” 
 

“I guess.” Johnny managed a sardonic chuckle. “I’m gonna need all of the help I can get.” 
 

They sat in silence for a moment, then John spoke. 
 

“It’s weird, you know, that all this…this mess started with one small action so long ago.”  
 

He glanced over at Roy, found him listening intently, then continued. 
 

“That drunk who puked all over me. I had to wash up. I had to go into the john. And look what happened. If only I hadn’t gone in there.” 
 

“You can’t second guess your decisions, Johnny. You didn’t know. Nobody knew.” 
 

“But you can’t help but think, if only I had done this, or if only I hadn’t done that. It’s enough to drive you crazy!” John paused, then added quietly, “I guess it did drive me crazy.” 
 

They were again quiet, watching the satiny water. Johnny dropped the blade of grass he had been picking apart. 
 

“I wanted to kill them,” he said flatly. “Especially the guy who kept calling me. Washington.” 
 

“That’s understandable. I think we all have feelings like that.” 
 

Johnny faced him. “No, I mean I literally wanted to kill him, murder him. I wanted to take a gun and shoot him in the head. I went over the plan in my head again and again, until I knew exactly what I was gonna do and how I was gonna do it. I even knew where I was gonna get the gun. I played it all out, even the part where I get arrested and put away for the rest of my life.” He shook his head. “It was so real. I mean, I really meant to kill the guy. Or—” He cut himself off.

“Never mind.” 
 

“What?” 
 

“I’m no better than he is,” Johnny whispered.  
 

“Johnny, you’re a lot better.” 
 

“No, you don’t understand. I wanted to do to him what he did to me.” 
 

Roy swallowed uneasily. “I don’t blame you.” 
 

“Maybe not,” John said, pulling out another cigarette, “but I blame myself. Those men took everything from me…my dignity, my self-respect, my sanity.” He stopped to light the cigarette.

“And after all that, I helped them along with poor decisions and thoughts that dragged me down to their level.” He shifted his position so that he faced Roy. “They raped me, Roy,” he said, his words choked. “Not just that night in the bar, but again and again, and the sad part of it is that I’ve been allowing them to assault me. I’ve allowed myself to remain their victim, to the point that my career may be over—” He was forced to stop, and he felt Roy’s firm hand on his arm. “I’m not gonna let them rape me anymore,” he continued, his voice thick. “I know now what they did to me, and I accept it, but I’m out of that bar, and they aren’t holding me down anymore.”  
 

He caught Roy’s eye. “And I don’t blame you anymore,” he went on with a glimmer of a smile. “I put you through hell, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 
 

Roy bowed his head. “I don’t know…” 
 

Johnny heaved himself to his feet. “Come on, partner,” he grinned, “let’s catch dinner!” 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

When he received the verdict of the committee, John Gage nearly collapsed back into his chair. Roy’s strong hand on his arm steadied him enough to keep him on his feet, however, and he managed to thank the committee with a voice that was perilously close to choking.  

 

Twice-weekly counseling sessions, once a week drug counseling, one month’s suspension without pay, and a frank lecture on the gratitude that John should feel for the multitude of friends who came forward on his behalf; the chairman of the committee didn’t pause until the end.  
 

“Mr. Gage, you stand before this committee having committed a crime that is diametrically opposed to everything the paramedic program stands for. It is with some misgiving that I agree to allow you to continue in the program, but with the support of people like Dr. Brackett, Dr. Early, Dr. Driscoll, Captain Stanley, and Roy DeSoto, I don’t believe that you will disappoint us.” The man smiled. “I wish you well, sir.” 
 

Johnny stood straighter. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, returning the smile. He turned to shake hands with Roy, who then embarrassed him by pulling him into a hug. Captain Stanley, Chet, Marco, and Mike also wrung his hand, as did Drs. Brackett, Early, and Morton, and Dixie pushed her way in to also hug the paramedic. Dr. Driscoll stood to one side, smiling broadly as he watched Johnny and his supporters. 
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

Johnny insisted that he was okay when Roy looked concerned about his going home immediately after the committee’s verdict. 
 

“Really, Roy, I’m fine. I just need some time to think about everything.” 
 

“Are you sure? You can come over to my house, or I can go home with you for awhile…” 
 

John grasped Roy’s arm. “I’m okay, partner,” he said. “Believe me. I’m okay.” 
 

He waited to assure himself that Roy understood, then quickly headed for his Rover. He had something to do. 
 

Once in his apartment, he gathered the ashtrays that he had scattered throughout. After emptying them, he put all but one away. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a Marlboro package, then fished out the final cigarette. 
 

He smoked it quickly, watching the smoke swirl around his head, flicking the ash frequently. The final drag tasted bitter, and he purposely drew it in longer than normal, wanting the sensation to be unpleasant. 
 

He snubbed the butt forcefully, almost angrily, then crushed the empty pack. Walking over to the garbage can, he tipped the ashtray and watched as the pack and butt dropped. 
 

He then picked up the black book. 
 

“No more of this. Good-by, black book.” He ripped out the pages, then threw the cover and papers into the garbage. 
 

“It’s over,” he whispered. “It’s all over.”  
 

<<<<<>>>>> 
 

He stood outside the station, scared to death, mortified, embarrassed, longing to be with his friends.  
 

Home…with men who believed in him, who cried with him, who fought the fight with him. He lifted his arm and looked at the fading needle marks, and he knew that the battle would continue, but he also knew that he could fight it with the help of his friends…his family. Now that he had finally faced the horrible truth of what had happened that night, he could at last purge the denial that had plagued him for so long. True, the memories would always be with him, and the John Gage who had walked this same path was gone forever, but the essence of his being had survived, and he would go on. 

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