Emergency!

10-8 at Rampart

By Krh

****

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction based on the television series, Emergency!.  It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of MARK VII LIMITED, Universal Studio or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings.  I don't own the characters. Only using them for a short time and will return them in relatively the same shape as when borrowed.

Author Note:  I have always felt like the episode Nuisance was one where they left a little too much on the cutting room floor.  The ending just didn’t satisfy me.  We got a whole lot of John’s injury but the usual, “yeah, Roy’s down, let’s move on” response after Roy AND Marco were down.   After having recently watched it again, my muse decided to come out of its long slumber to fill in some gaps.  

Oh, and by the way, we are on television medical treatment time for this.  Anyone that has been in an ER knows exactly what I mean here.  As always, all errors are mine.

Enjoy.

*****

John slumped against the pillows as Cap’s words echoed in his head.  We think they’re going to be just fine.  Thank God passed through his thoughts.  Trapped in a fire was never a good thing.  Risk of burns, crush injuries, smoke inhalation, compound breaks, head injuries.  Lifting his head, his eyes darted to the clock.  From the amount of time the coverage had been on, they likely had been out of air too.  The voice of the announcer’s words facial injuries and apparent unconsciousness flashed in his mind along with Cap’s words We think… 

Jolting up, John looked at the startled physical therapist beside his bed, his features serious and strained.  “I need to get downstairs.” 

“But,” she stuttered, unsure what had caused the sudden change of demeanor, “you’re not cleared to get up yet.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped back, tossing the covers out of the way and lifting his casted leg to move it off the bed.  Grimacing he ignored the jab of pain across his belly as the stitches complained about the movement.  Gritting his teeth, he continued to move the heavy leg.  Encountering the therapist who refused to budge out of the way, a frustrated breath escaped as he dropped the leg and leaned back to ease the strain on his stomach muscles.   “Look,” he started, running a hand through his hair and telling his mind to ignore the pain.  “Those guys,” he pointed to the television, “are from my station.  They were trapped.  They could be seriously injured.” 

“But the Captain said…” Mary started, only to be cut off by a gesture from John.

“He isn’t going to say anything else. You can bet the families of every fireman in the county was watching that coverage.  The picture was too fuzzy to tell who was hurt.  There is no way any captain is going to say they are in bad shape.” 

“But you don’t know that those firemen were from your station,” she countered trying to diffuse the situation.  “Let me go see.” 

John shook his head catching her arm to stop her progress, his face somber.  “It’s them.  Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been Captain Stanley talking to them in the ambulance.” 

“And Captain Stanley is….,” she again was cut off by John’s fervent nod answering the obvious question.   Glancing back to the television that had moved on to other coverage, a flicker of concern passed over her face.

Seeing it, John leaned forward to again move his leg.  “Now you can help me get down there or you can get out of the way,” his casted leg bumping into her to emphasize his point. 

Biting her lip for a second, Mary drew a shuddering breath.  This could mean her job.  “Okay, okay,” she relented, stopping his movement.  “At least stay there until I get a chair,” she said, pausing long enough to make sure he was hearing her. 

Darting to the door, she glanced back once to make sure he had not moved before she left the room. 

A shuddered breath left John.  Glancing at the clock, a grunt of frustration left him.  At this rate, by the time he got downstairs, the ambulance would likely already be there.  Grunting he shifted his leg to dangle off the side of the bed. Swallowing hard at the rush of pain from his mid-section that came over him as he twisted, he blindly groped behind him to find the bed controls and pressed the down button to lower his leg to the floor.  Pausing, he took a deep breath to shake off the queasiness that seemed to linger as the cast bumped on the floor. 

The banging of the wheelchair on the door told him Mary was on her way back in.  Watching as she maneuvered the chair through the door, he scooted a little closer to the edge of the bed, ready to stand. 

“Woe, woe, woe,” Mary said, quickly locking the chair and gripping his arm. “If you don’t hold up and let your body adjust, you’re going to be on the floor and never get downstairs,” she warned shaking her head as he lurched up, twisted and dropped heavily into the chair.   Moving around, she frowned at the paleness and clenched jaw before her.  “You okay?” she asked, pausing in her movements to move his leg upward.  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she added.  

Steely brown eyes snapped open at her before he nodded for her to continue.  Adjusting his placement in the chair, a sigh of relief escaped him as support came under the leg easing the pull on his body.   Nodding things were good, “I can get it from here,” rushed from his mouth as he pulled the brake handles.  “Better you aren’t seen with me,” he added, turning the chair.  Pausing at the door, he turned slightly so he could see her.  “Thanks. I owe you.” 

Moving to hold open the door and staying out of sight, she muttered, “I’ll remember that when I’m looking for a new job.”

John threw her a grin as he rolled himself carefully into the hall, looking around to make sure there were no other hospital personnel in sight to stop him.   Seeing none, he rolled to the elevators and pushed the down button.   Glancing up and seeing the indicator showed it was on higher floors, he punched the button again as if that would bring it sooner.   Hearing movement, he forced himself to look at ease. 

“Hey,” he called to the janitor as he rolled his mop bucket past, a smile pasted to his face as the older man returned his greeting.   Thankfully the elevator door opening saved him from having to say anything more.   John started as the older man stopped and said “here,” until he saw him place his hand on the doors to keep it from closing on the chair.  “Thanks,” John threw out jabbing the first-floor button.  “Appreciate the help,” he added as the door closed.  

Watching as the elevator crept downward, John ran a hand down his face and winced as his stomach again told him upward movements were not advised.   Feeling the elevator settle on the desired floor, his hands were moving him forward even before the doors started to open.  Exiting, his eyes followed the frantic movement of personnel throughout the hallway.  “Damn it,” John muttered as he saw the x-ray technician moving the big machine from a room.  He was too late to see who went into which room. 

Rolling forward he paused next to the desk.  If he knew Dix, she would be out of one room to go into another in just a few minutes.  If I can get her attention, John paused on that thought.  That was a dual edge sword.  While she could tell him more about the guys, she could also send him back upstairs.   The object of his thoughts moved out of room two and darted across the hallway to three, her gaze never leaving her intended target.  

Moving slowly down the hall, John inched closer to the doors that likely held the injured firemen.  Pausing to decide which one to try first, his movement was halted by a stern voice. “John Gage, what do you think you are doing?” 

Looking up, he did not even try to deny what he was doing was not advisable.  “Who?” he asked, tension evident in his voice. 

The frustration with the young fireman left Dixie.   “Roy and Marco,” she said softly, moving to his side and resting a hand on his shoulder. “The floor gave way and they were trapped for a while,” she added, squeezing the tense body below her hand.  “Joe is with Marco, Kel’s with Roy.  Both have head injuries and smoke inhalation.  Roy may have injured his back and leg also.  We are waiting for X-ray,” she added, her voice soft and soothing.  “Roy is in and out of it right now, but Marco is alert.”  

John’s jaw tensed at the news.  “Where was Brice?” he grunted out, ready to rip him a new one if he had been anywhere else but at Roy’s side. 

“Settle down there,” Dix warned seeing the anger build in John and guessing its source. “Brice was with them in the collapse,” Dix assured him.  “Mike is looking him over but it doesn’t appear he was injured.” 

A snort left John.  “Of course he wasn’t,” he muttered, his uninjured leg jostling with the adrenaline thrumming through his body at the moment.  

“Hey that’s not all bad.  I’m sure he kept the guys’ bleeding under control and made sure they didn’t hurt themselves any worse,” she stressed, knowing that Brice was a very capable paramedic despite his quirks. 

Looking up, John deflated knowing that she likely had a point. “Can I see ‘em?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two doors.  

“Marco, yes,” Dixie offered, moving to the back of the chair.  “We’ll need to check with Kel first for Roy,” she added, pushing open the door to treatment room three and moving him through it.

Nodding to Doctor Early who threw him an exasperated look as he came into the room, John plastered a grin on his face.  “Hey Marco,” he called coming to stop by the table.  Seeing the nasal cannula on his face, he noted Joe was applying a bandage to this head. “How ya doin’?”

“John,” Marco greeting the younger man, a grin pulling on his face.  “I’m okay.  Me duele la cabeza, but other than that I’m okay,” he assured him.  

Seeing a look of confusion on Early’s face, John clarified. “Headache.”

Nodding, Joe elaborated, knowing John would want specifics.  “Grade one concussion, few scratches and bruises. All and all, I’d say he was very lucky.  He’ll spend a couple days with us,” he added, patting his patient on the shoulder.  “You’re going to be fine, Marco.  We just need to keep an eye on you for a bit.” 

“No problem, Doc,” Marco replied.  “The way my head is pounding right now, I’m okay with that.”  Looking back at John, his face sobered.  “Roy?”

John’s eyes flickered down before back at this friend.  “Haven’t seen him,” he replied quietly.  “Dix said he was in and out.” 

“He took a pretty good hit,” Marco said, his eyes clouding with the memory.  “We didn’t have any warning.  It just went on top of us.  Brice fell backwards after Roy and landed on his back and I think I got his leg.  Couple chunks came down after we were down.  Caught Roy in the temple and he was out like a light.”  A frown crossed his face.   “Guess I blacked out cause next thing I knew Brice was in my face talking.”   Glancing at John, he went on.  “Roy was out for quite a while.  Woke when Cap was yelling that they were coming to get us.”  Tugging on the blanket, he added, “All of us were out of air by then.”    

John nodded slowly knowing what it meant to be in the situation Marco was describing.  Not wanting to focus on the implication of Marco’s words, he gave the other man a tight smile. “You’ll both be up and at ‘em before you know it,” he said, his voice holding a forced lightness.  Hearing someone at the door, he looked up to see an orderly coming in with a chair.  “Looks like they’re ready to move ya out of here.” 

“You and Roy will be in the same room,” Dix said, smiling at the injured fireman.  Looking at the orderly she added, “Room 407, bed two.” 

“Down the hallway from me,” John threw out, a grin on his face.  “I’ll come see ya when you’re settled.” 

“Pushing it, aren’t you,” Dixie said under her breath, moving the chair to the door.  Stopping in the hallway, she made sure John was clear of the chair following them out.  

Nodding at Marco, John gave him a cheeky salute, his face sobering as his friend moved farther away.   Looking up, he nodded to treatment room two.  “Roy?”

Patting him on the shoulder, Dixie murmured, “Let me check,” before entering the door.  What seemed like an eternity later, she was back, moving him toward it.  “Not long,” she cautioned.  

Rolling toward the exam bed, John ignored the glares being thrown at him from Brackett.  That was a small price to pay.   Running eyes across Roy, he noted he was laying on his side.  John could see the stark paleness around the oxygen mask and the bandage on the side of his face. 

“Roy?” he called, his hand settling on his friend’s arm.    Not getting much response, his eyes flew up to the doctor. 

“Still in and out,” Brackett relayed, his face serious.   “X-rays should be here any minute to tell us something.  But,” he shifted belying his own concern, “his reflexes are good and he recognizes us when he is awake.” 

Nodding slowly, John ran eyes over Roy’s lower body.  “Marco said he landed on his leg and Brice on his back.” 

“Knee likely isn’t feeling too good, but I don’t think it is anything more than bruising and strained.   His air tank left a pretty good bruise,” the doctor said, his head nodding to Roy’s back.    

“I understand that Brice didn’t help there,” John said, his voice holding a tone of dark humor.   

Kelly smiled. “Likely not.” 

Looking back down, John saw blue eyes watching him.  “Hey,” he said, focusing back on Roy.  “You’re gonna be okay,” he said, squeezing his arm.   A frown met his words.   “What?” he asked, leaning forward.   Hoarse muffled words reached him. 

“Not supposed to be here.”

Intentionally misunderstanding him, John grinned.  “Nope, you’re not.” When Roy began to get agitated, his voice dropped to a low soothing sound.  “Woe there, I’m okay. You settle down,” he reassured him, resting both hands on his friend and leaning in so his face blocked out everything else in Roy’s sight.   “I’m not staying long,” he said lowly.  “Just had to make sure you were okay.”  

“Hurt,” Roy grunted, his eyes closing. 

Not sure if Roy was indicating his own pain or John’s injury, Gage looked up at Brackett.   An amused grin played on the doctor’s face. 

“Seems your partner knows better than you,” he said, crossing his arms.   “You weren’t supposed to be up for another couple days,” he added.  “I’ll be up later to check on your stitches.”  Looking up at Dixie, he tipped his head toward the door.

“Okay John,” Dixie said, pulling the chair away from the exam table.  “Time for you to go back upstairs.”  

Frowning, he threw a frustrated look between the two medical persons watching him.   “But,” he started only to be cut off by the doctor.

“I’ve got Roy,” he said.  “He’s stable.  I’ll let you know what the x-rays show when I see you later. Besides, if your lack of color is any indication, you are way past time for pain meds and I don’t think you want me looking at you right now.” 

Blowing out a breath, John grimaced at the truth of the statement as a hand settled on his aching mid-section.  “Okay,” he relented, “but if anything changes,” he trailed off nodding toward Roy. 

“I’ll send Dixie for you.”  

Holding Brackett’s gaze to let him know he would hold him to the statement, John slumped in the chair.  

“Okay Mister Gage, let’s get you settled,” Dixie said wheeling him from the room.  “Then we are going to have a discussion about how you got ahold of this chair,” she promised. 

Coming out of the room, Johnny glanced around to make sure the path was clear.  Seeing a familiar figure at the end of the hall, he held up his hand.  “Joanne,” he said, nodding his head toward the woman sitting in the waiting area. 

“We got a hold of her as soon as we knew,” Dix offered, already guessing what was coming next. 

Glancing back, John gestured toward Roy’s wife.  “I need to make sure she’s okay… talk with her.”

Frowning, Dixie knew she was facing a losing battle.  Relenting, she turned the chair in the opposite direction from what she had intended. “Not for long.  You’ve already overdid it and don’t think for a minute it will get you out of our conversation.“

Getting no reaction as Dix set the brakes John called softly, “Jo?”

Startling as she had been oblivious to his approach, “Johnny,” she whispered when she realized who was speaking. Grabbing the hand reaching toward her, anxiously she asked, “How bad?”

“He’ll be okay,” John stressed, rubbing one arm in comfort as she held tight to his other hand.  “He’s banged up some, but Brackett said he’s stable and should be okay.”

“Thank God,” Jo blurted her body sagging with relief.  Trying to blink back tears, her voice was husky when she continued.  “I was watching the TV.  I couldn’t really tell who was on the stretchers, but I was afraid it was Roy.  Then Miss McCall phoned,” she paused, trying to control her emotions.  Looking back at John, she choked out “All I knew was that you weren’t there.  Everything is always okay when you’re there to help him, and I couldn’t help but think,” she trailed off not able to finish. 

“He’s going to be fine,” Dixie stepped in, seeing warring expressions on John’s face on how to answer her.   Seeing an orderly come through the swinging doors with a large envelope of x-rays, she patting John on the shoulder.  “I’ll be right back.” 

Moving to intercept the large file, she confirmed it was Roy’s before taking them into the treatment room.  “They’re here,” she called out to Kelly as he was focused on Roy.  Putting the penlight back into this pocket, he accepted the package. 

“Joanne DeSoto is here, too,” she relayed quietly, moving back to the door. 

“Thanks Dix.  I’ll be out to see her in a few minutes,” he assured her, already jamming the flimsy films on the light box. 

******

Reaching the waiting area, Dix ran assessing eyes over the man offering comfort and the woman receiving it.  Both looked at their respective ends.  Placing a hand back on Johnny’s shoulder to get his attention, she offered a small smile to both of them.  “Doctor Brackett will be out shortly,” she said to Joanne before shifting her eyes.  “And it’s time,” she told John, raising an eyebrow to dare him to challenge the assertion.  

Seeing a confused expression on Joanne’s face, John gave her a tight smile.  “I’m sorta AWOL,” he joked.  “Not exactly cleared to be up and about yet.” 

A flash of concern passed over Joanne’s face.  “Oh my.  How could I have forgotten that Roy told me that?  Go,” she stressed.  “I’m okay.” 

“You’re sure?”  John asked, torn between the desire to stay and hear what Brackett had to say and the draw to ease the aching in his body.  

Leaning forward, Jo threw her arms around John and pulled him into a hug.  “Go,” she whispered to him.  “And thank you,” she added pulling back.  “I’ll keep you posted.” 

Smiling, John took her hand and gave it a squeeze in gratitude.  “See ya later.” 

Silence hung between them until they were in John’s room, Dixie helped John transfer to the bed and shifted his leg over.  Raising the platform, she adjusted the covers before pulling the railing up.  “I’ll get your meds,” she said quietly, leaving and taking the wheelchair with her.

************

Peering intently at the x-ray films before him, Kel felt a wave of relief pass through him.  Despite what he had said to John, he had been concerned that Roy’s condition was worse than it presented.  Flicking off the light, he moved back to the table. 

“How you feeling now Roy?” he asked peering down at the eyes watching him.  

“Hurt some,” he replied shifting his leg gingerly.  “Feeling fuzzy.”  A frown creased his forehead.  “Johnny?” he asked, unsure if he remembered correctly or not.

“You weren’t hallucinating if that is what you’re worried about.  He was down here,” Kel relayed, his voice a combination of exasperation and humor as he eased the oxygen mask from Roy’s head.   “I had Dixie take him back upstairs.”

“Twit,” Roy mumbled, borrowing Cap’s name for anyone doing something stupid.    After a moment, he raised a shaky hand toward his head.  When it was intercepted, he looked up at the doctor.  “What’s the toll here Doc?”

“Well, not too bad all things considering.  There’s a cut on your head.  Pretty severe concussion, sprained knee, and a bruise on your back that’s going to make laying down painful for a while.”

A grunt answered the list.  “Others?” 

“Joe’s been with Marco and Mike with Brice.  I’m sure they’ll be okay,” he assured the paramedic.   “You were the one that had us worried.” 

Watching as Roy’s eyes began to drift close again, Kel waited.   He knew it would not be long before Roy roused himself again.  He wasn’t disappointed. 

“Johnny?”  Roy called, his eyes springing open and searching the room.

“Easy Roy.  John’s up in his room.  He wasn’t at the fire.” 

“Fire?” Roy frowned.

Nodding, Kel took his wrist and counted the heartbeats again.   “Do you remember what happened?”

Sinking back on the pillow, he frowned.  “Warehouse,” he finally said.   “Floor collapsed.”  

Nodding, Brackett smiled.  “That’s right.  Are you feeling nauseated?”  

Swallowing, Roy tipped his head slowly.  “Little bit. Back hurts.” 

“I’ll get you something for that and some aspirin but I don’t want to give you anything stronger just yet.  I’m afraid you’ve got hours of neuro checks in your future.” 

“Great,” the paramedic mumbled, his eyes closing.  “Tuesday, Rampart, Ford,” he slurred out, practicing the responses to the questions he would be asked repeatedly. 

Grinning, Kel patted him on the arm.  “You stay put and I’ll make sure you get those meds before we take you upstairs.”

***********

Registering the faint smell of smoke, John woke and looked around the shadowed room.  Realizing he was not alone, he grumbled a “Hey” to the three men spread around the small space.  “You guys okay?  Get that warehouse knocked down?”

Seeing all three nodding, Chet offered, “Couple more collapses before we got it, but no one else hurt.”  Looking up at Cap, a small shudder ran though the Irishman.  “Was glad to get out of there.”  

Nodding, Gage felt a twinge of guilt for not being there to help.  “Been here long?” 

“Half hour or so,” Cap replied turning from the window.  “Talked to the Doc to get an update. How are you doing?” he asked, running an assessing eye over his youngest team member. 

Shrugging off the question, John shifted and raised the head to the bed. Trying to divert attention away from himself, he asked, “You guys see Roy and Marco?”

Cap shook his head, his foot scraping the floor to indicate his frustration with that.  He would feel better if he had been able to confirm with his own two eyes of their condition. “They said not until tomorrow, maybe next day. Bracket said they were doing okay, responding well to treatment.”

“We heard you saw them,” Mike stated, his statement serving as much as a question as a statement. 

John shrugged to indicate it was no big deal.  “I was watching,” he began, nodding toward the television.  “Didn’t realize how we all look alike from this side,” he added, his voice holding a forced lightness before a frown crossed his face. “They were talking to the Chief when you called in,” he explained, looking at his superior. “Knew it was at least one of you guys from your tone.”  Looking away, he shrugged off the feelings that came with the memory.  “I went downstairs to see if there was anything I could do,” he added.

“And?” Chet asked eagerly, hoping he would finally get some details on what happened as well as how his friends were.  They had not been to the station yet to hear the detail from Brice.

“Marco was doing good.  Headache and a small cut,” John reported, pointing to his forehead where Marco’s cut was. “Gonna be in a few days for observation,” John assured him, understanding Chet’s concern for his friend.   “Marco told me what happened.  Floor came down, and he and Brice landed on Roy.  Marco and Roy passed out for a while.  Guess Marco came too pretty quickly but he said Roy didn’t come around until he heard Cap yelling.”  Looking down, he focused his eyes on the floor briefly before looking toward the crew.  “Roy was having a rougher time, in pain, and in and out of consciousness when I saw him.   Brackett said later his back and knee are just bruised, concussion, cuts,” he added gesturing toward his temple.  “Won’t feel too good for a while but he’ll be okay too. Gonna be here at least a week though.” 

A sigh of relief escaped Hank.  While he had heard about both of their conditions from the doctors, John’s assessment held more weight for him.   Realizing that John had not answered the earlier question about his own well-being, he asked again, “You didn’t hurt yourself more by doing that, did ya?”

Smiling and shaking his head, John locked eyes with Hank to assure him.  “Brackett cleared me.”  Glancing at the bed rails raised around him, a self-depreciating chuckle escaped him. “Not sure I’m going to be allowed out again though.”  

Chuckles from all four men echoed in the room.   “If I was you pal,” Cap answered, “I’d walk lightly around Dixie for a while.”  Snorts of laughter from the other two showed their agreement.  

“I’m not sure if she’s angrier about you doing it or the fact that you wouldn’t tell her how you did it,” Mike said softly, still not sure himself how Gage had managed it. “You gonna tell us?”  

A smirk pulled on John’s features as he shrugged. The fewer people that knew about his accomplice, the better.  Changing topics, he asked, “Station stood down for rest of the shift?”

“Only for a bit,” Cap answered, glancing at the clock and standing from the window sill he had been resting on.  “Timmons from C Shift at 36 is coming over.  Suppose to be there by twenty hundred.  Squad’s been back up for a couple hours.” 

“Brice?”  A nod answered John’s question.  Seeing a smirk pass between his co-workers, curiosity peaked in him.  “Who?” 

John saw the slight nod Hank sent to Kelly as they shared a look.  A smile of amusement pulled on Chet’s features before he answered. “Bellingham.” 

“Bellingham?” John reiterated, astonishment in his voice.  As the ramification of such a match-up struck him, a short laugh escaped.  “Man, what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ll have a front row seat,” Cap answered, resignation in his voice thinking of the future chaos that would likely occur at the station.   Shaking the thoughts off, he nodded at the other two.  Noting their reluctant movements to stand, he focused back on John.  “We’ve gotta go.  You need anything?” 

“I’m good,” John answered.  “Thanks for stopping by.  I’ll see you guys later.” 

“You bet,” Stanley threw back.   Stopping before he left the room, he glanced back.  “By the way, Dix wanted to make sure I reminded you that you are unavailable for any more calls.” 

Catching the hidden meaning of Cap’s words, John laughed.  “10-4 Cap.  No longer 10-8 at Rampart.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN:  The end - now, back to the show for epilogue

10/2023

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