End Game

(with apologies to Samuel Beckett)

by Northlander

 

Author's note: This story is a sequel to  "Playing the Game". I have tried to write it as an independent piece but you may want to read the first story for clarity sake. NL.)

 

 

 

"It's going to be one of those days, isn't it?" John Gage asked dejectedly.

 

"Yeah, I think so," replied his partner, Roy DeSoto.

 

Leaving the apartment building that had been the site of their latest rescue, the paramedics turned onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the squad. Gage opened the compartment doors and began to load the equipment. "Why would anyone eat ten hamburgers? And for breakfast?" he asked incredulously.

 

"I don't know," Roy said, "but I do know that I need to get back to the station and change clothes." Sighing, he looked down at the large vomit stain on his pant leg, where the victim had purged himself of his gluttony.

 

Johnny snickered. "Sorry to say this, but you stink." He closed the compartment door and turned the handle as his partner headed toward the driver's side. Smiling, Johnny turned to reach for the passenger door. He stopped at the sound of shouting. Looking in the direction of the voice, a sinking feeling overcame him.

 

"Well, if it isn't Johnny Gage," boomed its owner.

 

Staring in disbelief, Johnny stammered out his words. "Phil? Phil Bennedetto? I thought that you, uh…" He let the sentence die.

 

"You didn't forget your old friend now, did ya?" Phil asked.

 

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

 

Rapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, Roy glanced into the side mirrors. Not seeing his wayward partner, DeSoto stepped out of the truck, and headed back down the sidewalk. "Hey, Johnny. What's the hold up?"

 

Turning, Bennedetto looked at Roy squarely. "John and I were just catching up on the news. It's hard to believe it's been two years already."

 

"What do you want?" Roy demanded.

 

"Want? Why would I want anything, Roy?" Phil smiled innocently. "I was telling my old buddy, here, that I just moved back to the area a few months ago. I'm working as an insurance adjuster now, specializing in arson cases. I guess once a firefighter, always a firefighter. It's in the blood."  Turning his attention back to Gage, Bennedetto's face became a mask of mock concern. "So Johnny, how are you feeling? I guess you made a full recovery, eh?" Facing Roy, Phil smirked. "Last time I saw this guy, he had one foot in the grave."

 

Seeing the anger flash across Roy's face, Johnny shook his head slightly, mouthing the word no. He took a step to stand beside his partner. "I'm fine. I had to write the departmental exams and the paramedic certification test again, but everything is back to normal," Johnny reported.

 

"Well, I'm happy that everything worked out for you," Phil said, adding emphasis to the last word.

 

"We've got to go, Phil. C'mon, Roy." The paramedics turned to leave.

 

"Hey, Johnny," Phil called," it's good to see you again.  I'll be sure to keep in touch. We have a lot of catching up to do."

 

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

 

Johnny and Roy entered the dayroom, to find Captain Hank Stanley, its sole occupant, seated at the table. Hank called out a greeting from behind the newspaper he was reading. He lowered the paper at hearing Gage's mumbled reply.

 

"Everything go all right?" Cap asked. "I thought it was a nuisance run?"

 

"Yeah, it was," Johnny replied.

 

"Well, obviously something happened," Cap observed. "What was it?"

 

Glancing over at his partner, Johnny sighed. "We had an unexpected encounter with an old friend.  Phil Bennedetto."

 

"What! When? Where? What the hell is he doing back here?"

 

"That's what I want to know," Roy said seething.

 

"What did he say?" Cap asked.

 

"Not much," Johnny replied." He's an insurance adjuster now and has only been back a couple of months."

 

"Anything else?" Cap prodded.

 

"No, nothing much worth repeating."

 

Captain Stanley looked at Roy. "What was your impression?"

 

Leaning heavily on a chair, Roy only stared at the table. He raised his eyes to meet his captain's. "You know what I think," he said flatly. "Bennedetto belongs in a jail cell, not on the streets."

 

Rolling his eyes at Captain Stanley, Gage shrugged his shoulders and exited the kitchen. DeSoto turned to watch him leave.

 

"I just don't understand him sometimes, Cap," Roy said, gesturing towards his partner. "How can he be so calm about this?"

 

"Well, Roy," Cap started, "it's possible that Johnny just wants to put it all behind him. Maybe you should too."

 

"Yeah, but…." Roy's words were cut short by the station tones.

 

"Squad 51. Drug overdose. 1764 Commerce Road. See the police officer at the entrance to the alleyway. Time out 11:12"

 

As Captain Stanley and Roy DeSoto entered the engine bay, Hank lifted the mike to respond. "Squad 51, 10-4. KMG-365." Writing the instructions onto the notepad, he stepped over to the squad and handed the address to the waiting paramedics. "Take it easy out there."

 

 Passing the slip to Johnny, Roy started the ignition.

 

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

 

 Turning the squad onto Commerce Road, Roy drove slowly, as Johnny peered out the passenger window checking for the street number. "There," he called out.

 

The paramedics approached the alleyway, where a patrolman stood, waving his arms. Stopping the truck, Johnny and Roy raced out of the vehicle to grab their equipment.

 

"I think you may be too late," stated the police officer. He pointed into the alley. "My partner's been doing CPR, but the kid's starting to turn blue. It looks like he crashed pretty hard."

 

Pulling the oxygen canister behind him, Johnny followed the police officer's lead. Gage knelt down and placed the mask over the patient's mouth, noting the bluish-grey colouring his lips. He motioned for the officer to maintain the compressions. Glancing down at the victim, Johnny stared at the needle that still dangled from the young man's arm, the rubber hosing lying by his side. Track marks pricked a path down to his hand. "Do you guys have any idea what he was taking?"

 

The patrolman shook his head. "Around here, it could have been anything.  There are "mom and pop" shops all over the area."

 

"Meth Labs?" Johnny asked.

 

" Yeah, this is our third OD this week."

 

Sighing, Johnny began to check for the victim's vital signs, as Roy contacted the hospital.

 

He watched his partner pick up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

 

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

 

Walking slowly down the hallway from Treatment Room Two, Dr. Kelly Bracket sighed heavily. Approaching the nurse's station he looked glumly at the two paramedics waiting there.

 

"How's he doing, Doc?" Gage asked hopefully.

 

"He didn't have much of a chance," Bracket said. "The veins in his arms had collapsed and he was already in respiratory distress. He went into full arrest." Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Kel's face tightened. "It's bad enough losing someone to disease or accidental injury, but I can't understand why someone would purposely do that kind of abuse to themselves." He lowered his eyes to the floor.

 

Looking at his partner, Johnny silently wished that he could offer an explanation.

 

"I don't know," he said. "I guess you have to be pretty desperate."

 

"Maybe," Bracket said, "but we've been seeing this too often lately."

 

"What do you mean?" Roy asked.

 

"Last night, one of the doctors on the night shift was attacked. His patient broke his restraints, grabbed something sharp and slashed him across the face. Sixteen stitches."

 

"Wow. Do you know what the patient was taking?" Johnny asked.

 

"I'm guessing, speed. Maybe PCP.  After slashing the doctor, he took off and ran out of the hospital. The police chased him, but I heard that they lost the guy in the parking lot. The sad part is, that kid will probably end up like the one you brought in just now. There's a good chance his next fix will be his last."

 

"The cops at the scene of today's rescue said that there are a lot of Meth cooks popping up all over the city," Johnny said.

 

"True," Kel confirmed. "The hospital was told the same thing. After what happened last night, we're looking into methods of better handling the situation."

 

"Good luck," Roy said.

 

"Yeah, thanks."

 

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

 

Pausing as he placed the key in the squad's ignition, Roy looked at his partner. "Hey, John, do you mind if we stop for lunch?"

 

 Johnny eyed him curiously." Sure, Roy. Don't you want to chance Chet's cooking?"

 

"No, I'm sure we're not missing too much. How about the "Burger Palace?" Roy asked with forced nonchalance.

 

"Sounds good."

 

Placing the squad in gear, DeSoto pulled away from Rampart Emergency. The paramedics travelled the distance in silence. Watching his partner with growing concern, Johnny patiently waited for them to reach the restaurant. Realizing, that the purpose of the detour was not to avoid their co-worker's culinary talents, a feeling of uneasiness began to creep over him. DeSoto pulled the squad into a parking spot near the door, and both men entered Burger Palace. Once they had received their orders, Johnny and Roy walked to a booth at the rear.

 

"After the rescue this morning, I'm surprised you chose hamburgers," Johnny said lightly. He picked up a French fry and shoved it into his mouth.

Roy smiled weakly. He raised his burger to his mouth but placed it down without taking a bite. "John, I didn't want to go back to the station for a reason. I think that we need to talk about what happened today."

 

" Look Roy, I know what you're getting at. I wasn't happy to see Phil either. But there's nothing we can do about it. The guy has the right to live and work where he wants."

 

"No he doesn't. Not after what he did to you," Roy said strongly.

 

Johnny frowned. "Please Roy. We've gone over this before. I don't see how rehashing it is going to help anything. I just want to put it all behind me."

 

"We'll maybe you can act like it never happened, but I can't."

 

"What are you talking about?" Johnny said, his voice tinged with anger. "I haven't forgotten. I remember every moment of pain and frustration. I hope you never have to find out what it's like to rebuild your life."

 

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean that. I don't pretend to know how it was for you. But can I tell you what it was like for me?"

 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Johnny took a gulp of his drink. He leaned back against the booth's vinyl-covered cushions. "Uh, Roy…"

 

"Johnny, when this whole thing began two years ago, I didn't want to get involved, remember?"

 

Gage nodded.

 

"But I got involved because of you."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Johnny, don't apologize. I could have ignored it, but I didn't. You're my partner, and more importantly, my best friend. I was afraid for you, and now that Bennedetto's on the scene, that old feeling's back."

 

"Roy, there's nothing to worry about," Johnny assured.

 

"Yeah, John. That's what we thought then, too. It's a mistake I don't want to repeat."

 

Johnny lowered his eyes.

 

"I remember the day of your "accident" like it was yesterday.  You were dying. I remember standing there helpless while I listened to the doctors talking about your chances.  I didn't understand it all, but I found out later that you were in a coma. It all seemed so unreal to me. I couldn't believe it was happening."

 

Roy paused to take a drink from his coffee cup.

 

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but Roy held up his hand, motioning for him to stop.

 

"Let me finish, okay?"

 

"All right."

 

"I never told you this, but I had a run in with Bennedetto, not long after they took you to surgery. We exchanged a few words. He pretended to be concerned."

 

Sitting straighter in his seat, Johnny leaned on the table. "Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"I didn't think I'd ever have to. John, there is something not right about that guy. Pure malice. He didn't care about your condition. I doubt he cares about anything. I'm as sure now as I was then that Bennedetto was responsible for your injuries." Glancing idly at the cold hamburger, Roy pushed away his lunch from in front of him. "You know, John, I had a lot of time to think while you were in the hospital. They would let me stay with you an hour a day. I would sit by your bed, and wait.  Sometimes we'd talk. Well, I'd talk and hope you could hear me." Roy closed his eyes momentarily, as if recalling the memory. "After a couple of days, I was really afraid that you would never wake up. I felt sick at the thought."

 

"Roy, I never realized…" Johnny started.

 

"But you did wake up," Roy continued.

 

"And you've been with me every step of the way," Johnny interrupted. "I'll never forget what you've done for me."

 

"I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else." Roy smiled. "Though now, John, I need to ask you a question."

 

"Anything, shoot."

 

"Now that you've seen Bennedetto again, do you remember any of the details of the fire? Was Phil there?"

 

"No, Roy, nothing."

 

"Please try," Roy pleaded.

 

"I can't remember, Roy. The doctors said back then that there would probably be lapses in my memory. I guess that's just one of them."

 

"Just think for a minute. It was an industrial fire, one of those climate-controlled buildings. No windows. We were sent in along with Squad 45 to search for a security guard. You and I were searching the top two floors. Does any of this sound familiar?"

 

"No."

 

"Okay, John. We were on the top floor and then we split up to save time. You went down to the second.  I was on the third. That's the last time I saw you before the hospital. You must recognize some of this!"

 

"I'm sorry, Roy."

 

"Try!"

 

"I have tried," Johnny said exasperated. " Do you think I enjoy having these black spots in my memory? If Bennedetto is responsible, I want to know as much as you do. I just don't remember."

 

"Johnny, don't you understand. You're the only one who can put this guy away." Roy's agitation was apparent.

 

Sighing, Johnny looked at his partner sympathetically. "Roy, please, it's time to let go."

 

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

 

Sitting patiently in his car, Phil Bennedetto watched the red convertible pull into the parking lot of the fire station. Its dark haired driver exited the vehicle and jogged briskly in the direction of the station house. Phil leaned back and smiled.

 

Crossing the street, Bennedetto sauntered up the path to the station's front entrance. He pressed hard on the buzzer, holding it for a few moments longer than necessary. The door opened after several minutes.

 

"Can I help you?" questioned the young paramedic.

 

Glancing at the name tag, which read D. Robbins, Phil affected his most sincere smile, "Hi, I'm an old friend of Mark Sanchez. Is he here?"

 

"Sure, c'mon in. I'll get him for you." Robbins ushered Bennedetto into the dayroom and told him to have a seat. "Hey Mark," Drew Robbins called out as he left the room. "You have a visitor."

 

Rising from his chair, Phil began to pace around the kitchen. He turned as he heard footsteps approaching. A self-satisfied look crossed his face as Sanchez entered the room.

 

"Hey, buddy," Phil said. "Aren't you glad to see your old partner?"

 

Taking a moment to regain his composure, Sanchez looked questioningly at Bennedetto. "Sure Phil. I guess I'm just a little surprised, after all this time."

 

"Well Mark, you know I never forget my friends. And we are still that, right?"

 

"Yeah," Mark answered hesitantly. "What do you want, Phil?"

 

"That's funny, DeSoto said the same thing to me this morning. You remember Roy and Johnny?"

 

"Where'd you see them?" Sanchez inquired uneasily.

 

"I met up with them by accident. Actually, I was planning to look up all my old friends, now that I'm back. That is, except Captain McDaniel."

 

"Oh," Mark said," you heard about that?"

 

"Yeah, that was terrible news. To die like that. The poor guy takes early retirement and then to be killed in a hit and run. The police never caught the guy, did they? It was a green Riviera that hit him, right?"

 

"I don't remember," Sanchez said quickly as he searched his mind, trying to recall the colour of his ex-partner's car. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the shout announcing roll call. "I gotta go, Phil. I'll see you around some time."

 

"Oh, you can count on that, old pal. I'm not going anywhere."

 

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

 

Tossing once more in his cot, John Gage quietly sighed in frustration. The silence of the station's dormitory was occasionally broken by the sound of snoring coming from one of his shift members. Staring into the darkness, Johnny tried to recall the images of the dream that had woken him. Remembering a vague sense of falling, the feeling of fear that accompanied it still lingered. Johnny was certain it had been the reason for his interrupted slumber.  Glancing over at his partner, who was asleep in the next bed, he considered waking Roy.  Dismissing this idea, Gage rolled over once more, realizing it was pointless to talk about something he didn't understand himself. His thoughts were soon interrupted by the station tones.

 

"Station 51. Warehouse Fire, 287 Delawana. Time out 22:13."

 

Pulling up the suspenders of his turnout pants, Captain Stanley raced to the mike to confirm Dispatch's instructions, as the members of his crew headed toward the vehicles. DeSoto took the directions from Stanley, and placed the squad in gear. Flipping on the siren switch, he turned the truck onto the road.  Passing the note to his partner, Roy noticed the weary look on Johnny's face.

 

"You okay?"

 

"Yeah, didn't sleep much, that's all," Johnny responded flatly.

 

"Anything bothering you?" Roy prodded.

 

"I said I'm fine. Just tired," Johnny answered, with a slight edge.  Looking at the concern on Roy's face, Johnny apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It was just a bad dream."

 

"What kind? A nightmare? What was it about?" Roy pressed.

 

"Look," Johnny started, "it's not that I don't want to tell you, I really don't remember the details."

 

"What do you remember, then?" Roy insisted.

 

Opening his mouth to respond, Gage stopped as the squad pulled up to the address on Delawana.

 

Arriving at the scene a few minutes earlier, the crew of Engine 51, in full turnout gear, had begun pulling hose from the back of the truck. Gage and Desoto strapped on their air tanks and quickly joined their co-workers.

 

"Kelly, I want you and DeSoto to take an inch and a half to the north side," ordered Captain Stanley. "Lopez you and Gage take the south.  It looks like the fire is mainly on the second floor. This building is scheduled for demolition and should be vacant. Keep your eyes open though, in case someone has decided to move in."

 

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

 

Cautiously entering the building, Marco and Johnny located the main stairway. They could feel the wooden steps bend from the added pressure, as they climbed carefully to the next level. Reaching the second floor, they entered the corridor to see flames shooting from a room midway down the hall. Johnny and Marco pulled the hose a few more steps. Gage tightly gripped the nozzle and turned on the spray. The flames were extinguished in a matter of moments. Turning to signal Marco, Johnny dropped the hose at seeing Lopez kneeling on the floor, clutching his side. Racing over to his friend, Gage bent down beside him.

 

"Marco, what happened? Are you all right?"

 

Pushing up his mask, Lopez gasped, "The hose. The pressure made it snap and I lost my grip. I'm okay."

 

Grabbing Marco around the shoulders, Johnny eased him into an upright position. "Can you walk?"

 

"Yeah."

 

" Okay, lean on me, I'll help you down."

 

Johnny began to lead Marco back to the stairwell. As he prepared to take the first step down, a flash of memory distracted him. Vague images of a similar rescue raced through his mind. Shuddering inwardly, he began to pull away from Lopez. Before the injured firefighter slipped completely from his hold, Gage 's mind turned back to the reality of their situation. Hesitating at the feeling of déjà vu that overcame him, Johnny's grasp on the handrail faltered, causing both he and Marco to trip down several more steps. Coughing, Marco lost his balance and slammed into the sidewall, letting go a scream of pain, and collapsing onto the stairs. Johnny crouched down to check on Marco's condition and mumbled an explanation through his air mask. Continuing down the remainder of the stairs, the two firefighters stumbled out of the building and into the fresh air. Kelly and DeSoto met them, and took hold of Lopez. Placing Marco gently on the ground, Roy knelt beside him. Looking up at his partner, he asked for details. Johnny quickly explained the accident with the hose, but chose to omit the incident in the stairwell. Gage effectively ended the conversation when he picked up the biophone that Kelly had retrieved from the squad, along with their other equipment. Completing the transmission with the doctor at Rampart General, the paramedics readied Lopez for transport.

 

"How is he, Roy?" Captain Stanley asked.

 

" Marco may have a couple of broken ribs. He's in a lot of pain right now, but I don't think it's anything serious. His vitals looked good. I'll ride in with him." DeSoto turned to Gage. "I'll see you at the hospital."

 

Waving his acknowledgment, Johnny silently began to walk to the squad.

 

"Gage," Cap called, placing a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "It was an accident. Marco's okay, right?  It wasn't your fault."

 

"Yeah, Cap. I guess so. I'll see you later."

 

 

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

 

Walking into the dormitory, Roy DeSoto found his partner lying on his cot. Gage lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

 

"Hey, John, what are you doing? Everything okay?"

 

"Yeah"

 

"John, you haven't said two words since we left the hospital. You're not worried about Marco, are you? Cap told me that you were feeling guilty."

 

"No, that's not it."

 

"Good, because, you know it was an accident. Marco's going to be fine. Some broken ribs. Dr. Bracket said that he'd be out a couple of weeks."

 

"Good to hear," Johnny said idly.

 

Sitting on the cot across from his partner, Roy sighed. "All right, what's going on?"

 

Hesitating, Gage cleared his throat. He turned his head to look at Roy. " Something did happen."

 

DeSoto noted the worried tone in his friend's voice. "What was it?"  Roy asked.

 

Johnny turned his eyes back towards the ceiling. " I remembered something.  Though, to be honest, I'm not sure it was a memory. It was more a feeling that I had been there before."

 

"In that building?" Roy queried.

 

"No," Johnny said, "but in that situation.  My heart started to race, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It scared me, Roy."

 

"Describe what you saw, how you felt," Roy said with concern.

 

"There's not much to tell. It's all pretty vague. Something about the rescue was familiar though. The stairwell, the smoke. And another firefighter."

 

"Did you see his face," Roy prodded.

 

"No."

 

"Are you sure? Think about it. Did it look like Phil Bennedetto?"

 

"No, I don't think so. I didn't see a face." Sitting up, Johnny swung his legs over the side of the bed. He lowered his head into his hands.  After a moment, he looked up at his partner. "Roy, there's more. I've been having nightmares. I never really gave them much thought, until now."

 

"What's different about it?" Roy asked.

 

"This is the first time I've felt that same kind of fear, while I'm awake." Johnny wiped his clammy palms against his pants. "I'm even sweating just thinking about it."

 

Their discussion was interrupted by a call from the dayroom. As the two paramedics rose, Gage turned to DeSoto. "Roy, this is just between you and me, okay? I don't want the other guys thinking I'm nuts."

 

"Don't worry," Roy said, "your secret's safe with me. I've always known that." Roy's smile faded as he watched his friend's face cloud over.

 

"I'm sorry, John. I guess that was a stupid thing to say."

 

"It's okay. I'm just feeling a bit spooked right now. It'll pass."

 

Roy watched his partner exit the dormitory. Damn it, Bennedetto, why'd you have to come back?

 

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

 

"So, Mr. Bennedetto, what are the chances of my claim being approved?"

 

Rising from his chair, Phil walked over to close his office door. "Well, Mr. Rivers, I'm afraid the news isn't what you want to hear. Although, the suspicion of arson has been dropped, the cause of the fire has been listed as negligence. Improper storage of flammable material in the basement. The fire marshal's office concluded that the fire began in the cellar and travelled up the walls. Since you are the listed owner, sir, the responsibility is yours."

 

Rivers ran his hand through his hair. "What am I going to do now? Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost me?"

 

Bennedetto leaned back in his chair. "There is an alternative."

 

Rivers eyed him cautiously. "What do you mean?"

 

"I have a proposal which may suit an enterprising man, such as yourself. I think you have an entrepreneurial spirit."

 

"Go on."

 

"I have some associates in need of office space. Cheap. Their business is of a sensitive nature and requires a man of discretion."

 

"You mean something illegal."

 

Scowling, Phil rolled his chair closer to the desk. "Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a conscience? C'mon, Rivers, we both know you're nothing more than a slumlord. In fact, it's my guess that you set that fire."

 

It was Rivers' turn to smile. "What do you want me to do?"

 

"Your involvement will be limited. All you have to do is supply the space and keep quiet. You'll be paid well for your efforts. In cash. It's cleaner that way. "

 

"What about city inspectors? Building codes?" Rivers asked.

 

"Don't worry. I have that under control. I've had dealings with the inspectors before. We always manage to reach an understanding."

 

"So who are my new tenants?" Rivers inquired.

 

"No one you need to know. It's a family operation. Just mom and pop."

 

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

 

"Hi, Roy, what brings you down to our humble station? Tired of 51 and thought you'd give 99 a try?" Paramedic Tom Alexander smiled broadly. "Hey, guys, we have an honoured guest. C'mon, Roy, they're in the kitchen."

 

Greeting everyone seated at the table, Roy's eyes scanned the room for one particular person.

 

"Roy, how about some coffee?" Tom offered.

 

"No thanks. Actually, I'm here to see someone. Mark Sanchez."

 

"He's getting to be one popular guy," said Alexander's partner, Drew Robbins.

 

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

 

"Mark had a visitor the other day. Phil somebody. Mark's in the engine bay, Roy. I'll get him for you."

 

"No, it's okay, Drew. I'll go out there," Roy said.

 

DeSoto took several steps into the bay and walked up to the engine. He had heard that Sanchez was no longer with the paramedic program and had taken the engineer's exam. Roy found Sanchez standing to the rear of the engine, rag in hand, applying more polish. Mark looked up from his work and subconsciously took a step back.

 

"How are you, Mark?" Roy asked with disinterest.

 

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Sanchez said.

 

"Then, I guess you know why I'm here."

 

Sanchez frowned. "Phil told me that he had a run in with you and your partner."

 

"Do you know why he came back, Mark?" Roy asked.

 

"No, why would he tell me? I haven't seen Phil in a long time."

 

"Yeah, but he did come to see you. He must want something.  Mark, I didn't come to start trouble. I came to ask you for your help."

 

"Look, DeSoto, there's nothing I can do for you. I'm sorry about what happened with your partner. But that was a long time ago. I will give you a piece of advice, though."

 

"What's that?" Roy asked.

 

"Stay out of Phil's way. You don't bother him, and he won't bother you." Mark wiped his hands on the rag. "I don't think we have anything else to discuss." Tossing the cloth into a nearby pail, he walked away.

 

Roy stood in the engine bay a moment longer, debating his next move. Deciding that trying to pry any information from Sanchez was pointless, he turned and started towards the door. Passing the dayroom, he called out his good-bye to the crew of Station 99. Roy exited the building and stepped on to the quiet street, crossing over to his car. Lost in thought, he was almost unaware of the sound of a revving motor. Jumping back as the car accelerated and sped by him, Roy fell hard to the pavement, landing heavily on his left hip. He swore loudly at the sharp pain shooting through his leg.

 

Looking around him, Roy saw that the street remained empty, and that he was the only witness to the near car accident. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to his feet, placing his weight on his injured side. Finding that he was able to walk, Roy headed towards his car, although a noticeable limp slowed his progress. Starting the ignition, he decided to make an unscheduled stop at Rampart Emergency.

 

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

 

"Well, Roy," Dr. Evans said, "the x-rays show no break or fractures. There doesn't seem to be any damage, though your hip is severely bruised. I suggest rest, and an over the counter painkiller. If the pain worsens, please see you regular doctor as soon as possible."

 

"Thanks, Doc," Roy responded.

 

"Do you have someone to take you home?"

 

"No, I think I can drive okay. Anyway, I don't want to call and upset my wife. I'd rather go home under my own steam." Roy smiled weakly.

 

 The doctor pulled open the door. "I understand," said Dr. Evans. "I'll have an orderly come in with a wheelchair and help you out."

 

"OK, thanks," Roy called, as the physician exited the room.

 

 Lying back on the exam table, Roy began to chastise himself for being so careless. The scene played out before him.  He thought about stepping onto the road. The only vehicle in sight was parked a few blocks from the station. He was sure there was no one behind the wheel. Before his thoughts could travel any further, the orderly entered the room. Roy's mind soon turned to his wife, and the explanation of his accident.

 

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

 

Lazing on his sofa, Roy's attention was drawn to the muffled voices coming from the hallway. He heard his wife say, "He's in there, resting."

 

John Gage walked briskly into the living room. He stood over his partner, his face a mask of worry.

 

"What happened? Are you all right?" Johnny asked.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Roy assured. "Just careless."

 

Taking a seat in the chair next to the couch, Johnny sighed. "Joanne called and told me the whole story. Did you see the car? The driver? How 'bout the license plate?"

 

"No. It was all too fast. I'm okay, really. Just bruised."

 

"Jo said you went to the hospital. Which doctor did you see?"

 

"Evans, why?"

 

"Cause I'm going to ask him if you're telling the truth."

 

"Not if I can help it," Roy chided.

 

Johnny laughed. "You won't be able to. I already called Cap and explained what happened. I told him about the limp and that you wouldn't be in tomorrow."

 

"You did what?" Roy exclaimed. "Why?"

 

"Why? Do you really think I want my partner gimping around while I do all the work? One sick day won't hurt you. Anyway, if I didn’t make you stay home, Joanne threatened to ban me from her spaghetti forever. And you know how much that would hurt me." Johnny lowered his voice to a whisper. "Especially now that she has Stoker's recipe down pat."

 

Roy smiled." Okay, you win. Who's replacing me?"

 

"Tom Alexander from Station 99. Actually, he told me you were there today. Defecting?"

 

"No. There's an old friend of ours working there now. Mark Sanchez. He's the engineer."

 

"Roy, you didn't go to see Sanchez, did you?"

 

"Yes."

 

Johnny looked at his friend with annoyance. "I don't think that was a very smart idea. Don't borrow trouble."

 

"It's okay," Roy said. "He didn't tell me anything. Phil had been there, though."

 

"You worry me, buddy. You're beginning to sound like me.  I'm supposed to be the reckless one." Johnny smirked, though his face soon became serious. "Roy, did the accident happen outside the station?"

 

"Yeah. I didn't even see the car coming until the last minute." He paused. "John, what are you thinking?"

 

Johnny shook his head. "Nothing. Anyway, I better let you rest. I'll call later to check on you." He rose from the chair and walked over to the door. "Bye Jo. Mission accomplished."

 

As Johnny clicked the door closed behind him, he considered what Roy had said. He thought about a possible connection between Roy's visit to Sanchez and the accident, but pushed the thought aside. To consider it, would mean having to consider Phil Bennedetto.

 

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

 

"Good Morning, gentlemen," John Gage greeted as he entered the kitchen of Station 51. He received a chorus of grunts from his shiftmates who were eating breakfast. Johnny poured himself a cup of coffee and raised it to his lips. Making a face at the bitter taste, he poured the cup's contents into the sink.

 

"Mike, did you make the coffee this morning?" Johnny asked.

 

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

 

"Oh, lucky guess," Johnny answered.

 

"It doesn't taste as bad if you have a donut with it," Marco offered.

 

"Hey, John. How's Roy feeling?" Cap asked. " I tried calling last night but the line was busy."

 

"He says he's okay, Cap. Pretty sore, though. Roy said he'd call with an update later today. Is Tom here yet?" Johnny added.

 

"Locker room," Chet mumbled through a mouthful of donut.

 

"Thanks, Chet," Johnny said. "Are you sure you can't fit anything else in there?" Snickering, Gage exited the kitchen in search of his temporary partner.

 

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

 

Pushing the door to the locker room open, Johnny found Tom Alexander seated on the bench staring at the broken shoelace in his hand. He looked up as Gage approached.

 

"Hi, John. You wouldn't happen to have an extra would you?" Tom asked.

 

"Sure, Tom. I hope this isn't a bad omen," Johnny laughed. Reaching into his locker, Gage retrieved another shoelace.

 

"You and me, both." Tom took the lace from Gage. He saw that the smile had left Johnny's face. "Something wrong? You suddenly don't look too happy."

 

"Well, Tom, I've got a problem I think you can help me with," Johnny said.

 

"Sure," Alexander said, hesitantly. "What is it?"

 

"It's about one of the guys on your shift. Mark Sanchez."

 

Tom gave Johnny a quizzical look. Drew was right. That guy is popular. "What about him?"

 

"Roy went to go see Sanchez the day of his accident, right?"

 

"Yeah, I told you that already," Tom answered.

 

"How did Mark seem after the visit?" Johnny asked.

 

Tom made a face. "OK, I guess. Mark's a hard person to read. He keeps to himself mostly." Tom paused. "Where's this going, John? Why are you and Roy so interested in this guy?"

 

Johnny let out a low chuckle. "I'm sorry, Tom. This must seem kinda weird, these questions. To give you the short version of the story, I can tell you this much. A couple of years ago, Roy and I had a run in with Sanchez and his then partner, Phil Bennedetto."

 

"I've heard of that guy," Tom said. "He came in one day to see Mark. I never met him, bur Drew did. Now that I think about it, Sanchez was a little rattled after Bennedetto left. I remember that Mark was late coming to roll call. He looked upset. I doubt he heard a word the captain said. "

 

"Any idea what they talked about?" Johnny asked.

 

"No, we were all out at the engine. What happen between you guys?"

 

"It's hard to explain, Tom."

 

"Well, from what you've said, I take it that you're not the best of friends."

 

"Yeah," John said. "You're right there."

 

"Wait a minute. Do you think Sanchez had something to do with Roy's accident?" Tom asked.

 

"No, not directly at least.  But there's more to this. I just haven't been able to put the pieces together yet," Johnny replied.

 

"I'll tell you what, John. I'll ask Drew if he heard any more. I can give you a call if I find out anything," Tom offered.

 

"Thanks, Tom. But I'd rather not get you two involved. When Phil Bennedetto's around, things happen."

 

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

 

"You wanted to see me, Cap?" Roy asked.

 

"Yes, c'mon in, pal," Hank Stanley greeted. "Have a seat."

 

"Is everything okay?" Roy inquired.

 

"I just wanted to know how things are going? How's the leg?"

 

"Uh, fine. No problems." Roy looked questioningly at Stanley. "Did Johnny say something?"

 

"No, not at all."

 

"That's good," Roy said. "Cap, is there something else?"

 

Sighing, Captain Stanley paused before responding to DeSoto's question. "Roy, Johnny told me about the accident, specifically where it happened, and why you were at Station 99. He's worried about you and frankly so am I."

 

"I just wanted to talk to Mark, that's all."

 

"Roy, I'm sure you remember the events of two years ago better than I do. I don't think anyone wants to relive that again. Not you or me and especially not Johnny."

 

"I agree, Cap. And that's exactly why I went to see Sanchez.  If Bennedetto is up to something, I want to know what it is."

 

"And just what did you plan to do about it, even if you found out some information?" Cap asked. "Roy, I understand why you're so concerned, but there's nothing you can do."

 

"I guess I wasn't really sure. But I just felt I had to do something. I remember what happened all to well. I didn't do anything then, and I won't let it happen again."

 

 Rising from his chair, Roy started to leave the office. He looked back towards Hank. "Thanks, Cap."

 

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

 

John Gage sat in the dayroom, impatiently waiting for his friend. As DeSoto turned the corner, Gage could see the look of annoyance on Roy's face. Rising from his chair, Johnny suggested that he and his partner check the drug box for supplies. Reaching the squad, Johnny was first to speak.

 

"Did you talk to Cap?"

 

"Yes."

 

Frowning at Roy's curt response, Gage prodded further. "What did he say?"

 

"Johnny, I think you know pretty well how our conversation went. Why did you go to Captain Stanley? You should have talked to me first."

 

"Roy, I'm concerned about you.  I think you've gone far enough with this and I want you to stop." Johnny's voice was low and flat. "I don't need protecting. I'll fight my own battles."

 

Roy looked defeated. "Johnny, I'm only trying to help."

 

"I know," John said. But Roy, I don't want your help. I don't want your involvement. I'm sorry I ever said anything about the nightmares. Don't you understand? It's happening all over again."

 

"What do you mean? The whole reason I went to see Sanchez was to stop anything from happening."

 

Shaking his head, Johnny lowered his eyes. He looked up at his friend after a moment. "Roy, the car accident may not have been an accident.  Don't you think the coincidence is a bit strange? You could have been killed." Johnny put his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Please let it go."

 

"Fine, John.  If that's what you want. I'll stay out of it," Roy said with resignation.

 

"It's what I want," Johnny said.

 

His words were cut short by a shout from the kitchen. "Hey, Gage, phone."

 

"Coming," Johnny answered. "We'll talk later. Okay, Roy?"

 

DeSoto nodded and walked away.

 

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

 

"So, are your new tenants settling in all right?" Phil Bennedetto asked the man straggling behind him.  He could hear Rivers huffing in an attempt to match Bennedetto's stride. Something his short stocky body would not allow. Perspiration glistened on Rivers' baldhead, mixing with the few strands of greasy hair he had left.

 

"Yeah, but there are some god-awful smells coming out of that room. Smells like cat piss. What the hell are they doing in there, anyway?"

 

"You really want to know?" Bennedetto laughed. "OK.  Why not? You might as well see for yourself. Follow me."

 

The section of the building where the two men stood seemed to have been untouched by the fire earlier that month. Several rooms lined the dimly lit hallway.  Piles of trash were heaped in various spots along the corridor.

 

"Where'd all this garbage come from? You sure that you have it covered with the building inspectors?" Rivers asked nervously.

 

"You like the money?" Phil asked.

 

Rivers nodded.

 

"Then shut up."

 

Rivers remained silent for the rest of the trip to the end of the hall. He glanced idly at the heaps of trash. He noticed that the bulk of the rubbish consisted of antifreeze containers, lantern fuel bottles and drain cleaner. Red stained coffee filtres and discarded roles of duct tape lay to the side.  Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers along his scalp. Oh shit.

 

Pushing the door open, Phil ushered his companion into the room. The windows had been covered by large tarps. The only sources of light came from several bare bulbs hanging from the sealing. "Meet mom and pop."

 

Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, Rivers could see two people, a man and a woman in their twenties, standing behind a large table. On its top, he noticed several bottles and vials. The room's occupants, both wearing coveralls, gloves and dust mask, looked up and waved their acknowledgment to Bennedetto.

 

"What is all that crap?" Rivers asked.

 

"This, my greasy friend, is our goldmine." Phil said. "Everything a good cook needs. Drain cleaner, hydrochloric acid, lye, antifreeze and some red phosphorus.   And a few other things. You look surprised?"

 

"Hey, I never bargained for this," Rivers whined.

 

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, the street price on this stuff is about twelve-hundred bucks an ounce. Does that help calm your nerves?" Phil laughed.

Rivers eyed his business partner carefully. He took a step closer to the table, hoping to have a better view of the process.

 

"Don't get to close," Phil warned. "You don't want to breathe any of this stuff in. The ammonia and the battery acid are probably what you smell. Come here, this is the good stuff." The two men walked over to a large table in the corner of the room. Hundreds of small bags, containing a fine white powder covered its top. Phil picked up one of the pouches and opened it. Sticking his finger in, he brushed it against the powder, and then raised it to his mouth.

 

"Yeah, that's about right." He offered the bag to Rivers. "Try it. Tastes kinda bitter."

 

Rivers began to sweat more profusely. "No, maybe another time."

 

Bennedetto laughed. "Want to know something funny? One of the street names for meth is fire.  I guess this was just destiny for me. Sure you don't want to try some? We've got everything you need." Phil gestured to the array of syringes, spoons and surgical tubing that lay next to the pouches.

 

"No. I'm okay, really," Rivers said.

 

Laughing once more, Bennedetto reached out and slapped Rivers on the back. "Relax, we're going to make a killing."

 

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

 

"I was surprised to get your phone call," John Gage said.

 

"Well, I thought I better set things straight." Mark Sanchez raised his beer to his lips and took a drink.   He gently rapped his fingers along the tabletop, keeping time with the music. " Since you're so interested in my business, I thought we should talk. I picked this bar because it's on my turf. You and DeSoto always seem to want the upper hand."

 

"We're just trying to find out what's going on."

 

"Who says anything's going on?" Sanchez demanded. "And what right do you have asking the guys in my crew about me?"

 

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Johnny flinched.

 

"Yeah, I know you've been asking questions. I overheard Alexander and Robbins talking,'' Sanchez said dryly.

 

Clearing his throat, Johnny sat up straighter in his seat. "The way I see it, you know more about Bennedetto than your saying."

 

"Well," Sanchez said, "I think you better look again."  The sides of his mouth twitched. "Except for the other day, I haven't seen Phil since he walked out of Station 45 two years ago."

 

"Tom said you looked shook up after Phil's visit," Johnny stated.

 

"Tom's got an overactive imagination."

 

"Is that all it was?"

 

"OK," Mark said. "I'll tell you what happened. Phil came by just to say hello. We talked about the past a little. He said he had seen you and DeSoto."

 

"How'd he know where you were working?" Johnny asked.

 

"I don't know," Mark said, somewhat irritated. "I guess he looked me up. I'm sure Phil is still friends with some of the guys."

 

"Like Captain McDaniel?" Johnny asked. He watched Sanchez pale at the mention of the name. Paydirt.

 

"You know McDaniel's dead."

 

"Yeah, did Phil?"

 

Sanchez lowered his eyes.

 

"Look, Mark. I've got no argument with you. All I want is information on Bennedetto. It probably would benefit us both to get to the bottom of this."

 

"What will benefit me, " Sanchez said, "is to keep out of it and mind my own business. I suggest you do the same." Taking the last gulp of his beer, Mark pushed back his chair and began to leave. "Nice talking to ya. Let's not do this again." He turned and left.

 

Gage sat at the table a few minutes longer, pondering his glass. A waitress sauntered over to him, carrying another bottle of "Becks" on her tray.

 

"Uh, thanks," John said, giving the woman his most endearing smile, "But I didn't order anything."

 

"Oh, that's okay," replied the waitress. "It's from the guy that was sitting over there." She pointed to the empty table in the corner. "He said he was a friend and that he'd try to catch up with you later, to talk over old times." The waitress placed the bottle on the table. "Will there be anything else?"

 

"Um, no thanks," Johnny said. He pushed several bills into her hand.

 

"What about your beer?" the waitress asked.

 

"No, I think I better pass." He scanned the room for any sign of Bennedetto. "Friends like him I don't need."

 

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

 

Flames shot out of the warehouse's windows, lighting up the night sky. Groups of people huddled together on the sidewalk to watch the gruesome spectacle. Several bystanders broke into a macabre rendition of Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water."  Their voices mixed with sound of sirens from approaching emergency vehicles. The singing soon ended as explosions from inside the structure sprayed the on-lookers with debris and errant sparks. The fire trucks came to a stop in front of the building.

 

"LA, this is Battalion 4. This building is fully involved. Dispatch a second alarm to this location," the chief ordered.

 

Jumping down from the engine's cab, Stanley was met by Captain Henderson of Station 99.  Briskly walking over to join the chief, both men were met by Officer Vince Howard, and an unidentified man.

 

"This is Mr. Rivers," Howard said. "He owns the building."

 

"Well, Mr. Rivers, it doesn't look like your going to have much of a building left. This site is condemned, correct?" Stanley asked.

 

"Sort of," Rivers said.

 

Stanley was incredulous. "You mean there are people in there? How many?"

 

Rivers shook his head. "I don't know. They come and they go."

 

"Roy, Johnny. We've got people inside. Get your gear," Stanley ordered. He turned back to Rivers. "Think, how many?"

 

"I don't know," Rivers repeated. "Maybe four, five."

 

Another explosion rocked the ground before Cap could continue with his questions.

 

"What the hell have you got in there?"

 

Rivers hesitated.

 

"You're in very serious trouble now, I'd advise you cooperate," Vince urged.

 

"They're making stuff," Rivers started, "you know, drugs."

 

Stanley turned to Gage and Desoto as they approached. Alexander and Robbins from Station 99 joined them. "Guys, we've got about four or five people inside. The landlord informs us that he's been housing a drug lab. Don't take any chances in there. In and out."

 

Stanley watched as the paramedics pulled down their air masks and disappeared into the building.

 

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

 

 Approaching the second floor stairway, Gage and DeSoto carefully picked their way through the fallen and crumbling building. They reached the upper level which, amazingly was, still intact. Each paramedic hurriedly began the task of searching the rooms.

 

"Roy, in here," Johnny called. The bodies of a man and a woman laying side by side, appeared to be sleeping. As the paramedics approached, they were taken aback at the sight of the burned flesh that covered the victim's faces, melding each person's features into one.

 

Turning from the scene, Roy and Johnny began searching for the remaining victims. Spying an arm sticking out from under a pile of rubble, Johnny reached down to start digging. After several minutes, he was able to grab the fallen man by the shoulders and pull him clear of the debris. Gage removed his glove and felt the victim's neck for a pulse. He leaned down to listen to the man's chest. "Damnit."  Johnny turned towards his partner, and shouted his name.

 

Desoto knelt beside a third man. He remained still for several minutes until Johnny placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

"That guy's dead, too. Roy, what's wrong? " He crouched down beside his partner, following his gaze. Johnny's heart skipped.

 

"Hey, old buddy. I said we'd meet again. Enjoy the beer?" Phil Bennedetto choked out the words between coughing spasms.

 

Forcing himself, Johnny reached down, trying to free Bennedetto of the beam that pinned him to the floor. He was soon joined by his partner, who managed to pull Phil free. Their victory was short lived as the building rumbled once more. Glass from the large windows, which had originally been covered with tarps now burned away, flew across the room.  The paramedics were thrown against the far wall.

 

Johnny called out to Roy as the shaking stopped. "Roy, where are you?" He felt someone grab hold of him.

 

"I'm right here."

 

"You okay?"

 

"Yeah." He looked down to take a closer look at his partner as the dust settled. "Oh god."

 

"Roy, I think I hurt my leg," Johnny said in a strained voice. His laboured breaths fogged his air mask.

 

The last explosion had ripped pieces of wood from the unstable room's ceiling. A section of a support beam had torn through Gage's turnout pants, pinning his leg to the floor. Blood poured from a wound just above his knee.

 

"Roy," Johnny gasped. "I don't think I can move."

 

DeSoto pulled the HT from his coat pocket. "Engine 51, Code I. We're on the second floor." He shoved the unit back into his pocket. "Don't worry, John. They're on their way."

 

"Roy," Johnny said, "You've got to get Phil out of here. I'll be okay until you get back."

 

"I'm not leaving."

 

"Roy, he'll die."

 

Roy was repulsed by his initial thought, that it would be better for everyone if Bennedetto were dead. He was spared making that decision, as three of the other members of Station 51 arrived. DeSoto hastily explained the situation.

 

"I'll get him, Roy," Marco said.  Stepping over to where Bennedetto lay, Lopez picked up the man and balanced him over his shoulder. He proceeded down the stairs.

 

"99 will take care of him outside. They're finished the sweep of the first floor," Kelly said.

 

Neither Captain Stanley nor Roy responded to Chet's comment.

 

Looking up from where he knelt beside Gage, Stanley looked grim.

 

"Roy, is there anyway we can pull the wood out of his leg?"

 

"No, he's already bleeding. Pulling the beam out may cause him to start haemorrhaging."

 

"Then, the only thing we can do is try to cut around his leg," Cap said.

 

"Kelly, get the saw. I want you and Lopez to go to the first floor. We're going to cut the beam and try to pull John up. Tell 99 to contact Rampart"

 

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

 

"How's it going in there?" Drew Robbins asked as Kelly emerged from the building.

 

"Not good. Johnny's in a bad way. There was an explosion and his leg is pinned to the floor.  He's bleeding pretty badly. Cap wants you to contact Rampart and tell them what's going on."

 

 As Robbins reached for the biophone, Kelly retrieved the saw from the engine.  Drew called out to him as he walked back to the building.

 

"Rampart wants to know how long before you can get him out?" Drew asked

 

"I'm not sure maybe twenty minutes."

 

Robbins relayed the information. "Tell Roy that Rampart said to set up an IV. 1000 cc Ringer's Lactate. And tell him to radio Johnny's vitals to me."

 

Chet motioned towards Bennedetto who was being loaded into the ambulance. "How's he?"

 

"Stable. Though his lungs may have been damaged by the corrosives in there," Robbins said.

 

"That's too bad," Chet said dryly as he lowered his mask. Lopez joined him and both men hastened into the building, heading down to the end of the first hallway. Turning at the last room on the right, they easily located the end of the beam that had trapped Gage.

 

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

 

 "10-4,99," Roy said and released the button on the handi talkie. In anticipation of the hospital's request, DeSoto had been monitoring his partner's vital signs. Putting the IV in place, Roy picked up the handi talkie once more.

 

"Drew, tell Rampart vitals are: BP 90/60, Pulse 110 and Respirations 20. I have Johnny on 6 litres of oxygen." He shoved the unit into his coat pocket at receiving Robbins's acknowledgment.

 

"Okay, Cap. We can start cutting."

 

Rising, Stanley walked out of the room and signalled the firefighter from Station 99, who stood at the end of the hall. He watched the man pull his HT from his coat, advising Kelly and Lopez to proceed. Cap re-entered the room and crouched down, taking hold of Gage's leg.

 

Kneeling beside his partner, Roy braced Johnny's body against his own. Wincing involuntarily at the sound of the motor, he felt his friend tense as the saw bit into the wood.  Johnny's soft moans soon turned to screams of pain, caused by the vibrations.  The noise of the saw ceased after several moments.  Releasing his hold on Johnny, Roy began taking his partner's vitals once more.

 

"How is he, Roy?" Cap asked.

 

"His blood pressure's dropping. We've got to get him out now." Looking up, Roy saw Chet and Marco enter the room.

 

"OK, Cap," Marco said. "We've cut the beam as close as we can. It's pretty even with the floor. There was some damage to the ceiling down there. The fire must have done a little of our work for us."

 

"Good. Now I want you to position yourself at John's leg. Chet, you and Roy each take a shoulder. In one motion, we're going to pull Johnny up. Try to keep it as steady as possible. On my command."

 

Stanley watched as each man took his position. "Ready? Lift."

 

Watching his partner, Roy could see the strain on Johnny face as they moved him free of the floorboards.

 

"Clear," Cap Stanley shouted. "Let's get out of here."

 

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

 

"Rampart," Drew said into the biophone. "Victim is now free.  Puncture wound is above the left knee penetrating directly through the thigh. There appears to be severe blood loss. Stand-by for update on vitals."

 

Drew laid the phone down as the crew from 51 placed Johnny on the ground beside him.

 

"Roy," Rampart needs an update."

 

DeSoto raised a grimy sleeve and wiped the sweat from his brow. "BP 80/50, Reparations 20, Pulse120.

 

He's been drifting in and out. Skin is cool and clammy." Roy reached for the patches to attach to Johnny's chest. "Tell Rampart were sending a strip. Lead two." He half listened as Drew repeated the information to the hospital.

 

"Roy, Bracket says he's reading tachycardia."

 

DeSoto nodded.

 

"Confirmed, Rampart," Drew said into the biophone. Rampart, ambulance is now on seen. We have stabilized the leg and are maintaining pressure. ETA ten minutes." He placed the receiver back in the case.

 

"I'm riding in with him," Roy said. By the tone of his voice, Drew knew there was no room for argument.

 

Picking up the drug box and biophone, DeSoto followed the attendants to the ambulance and sat on the bench next to Johnny.  He looked worriedly at his partner.  Gage's eyes fluttered open momentarily and seemed to look directly at him.

 

"Johnny, can you hear me?" Roy said softly. He thought he detected a faint smile.

 

Roy placed his hand lightly on his friend's shoulder. "Hold on, pal. We're almost there. This time, I think it's finally over."

 

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

 

"Treatment One," Dixie McCall said, pointing in the room's direction.

 

Dr. Kelly Bracket held the door open as the ambulance attendants rolled their patient's gurney inside. DeSoto followed close behind.

 

"Any changes since last report, Roy?" Bracket asked.

 

"Vitals are the same, but I couldn't find a pulse in his thigh."

 

 Bracket's mouth tightened to a thin line.  " Dix, start him on two units whole blood. And administer 250 mg Cefazolin IV." Placing the ends of his stethoscope in his ears, he held the bell against Johnny's leg.

 

"Anything?" Roy asked.

 

Bracket shook his head. "No. I'm worried that there may be some damage to the femoral artery." Pausing, Kel grimaced as he noted the angle of the jagged piece of wood protruding from Johnny's leg. "I've already spoken with the vascular surgeon. The operating room's standing by."

 

 Walking to the other side of the exam table, Kel stopped as a hand clutched his arm.

 

 Holding tightly to Bracket's coat sleeve, Johnny looked at him pleadingly.

 

"Doc, can't he have something for the pain?" Roy asked.

 

"No, Roy. His vitals aren't stable. Painkillers could cause his pressure to drop further and do more harm than good."

 

To Roy and Kel's relief, the door opened and two orderlies entered the room. As each man took position at either end of the table, Roy leaned over to his partner, and forced a smile.

 

"They're taking you up to surgery now. I'll see you in a little while."

 

Johnny nodded slightly and closed his eyes.

 

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

 

Walking over to the nurse's station, Roy greeted Dr. Early who was leaning against the back counter.

 

"Just finish a call, Doc?" Roy asked.

 

Early smiled. "Yes.  Seems there was a little girl who wanted to make her entrance into the world earlier than expected.  Both mother and daughter are doing fine."

 

"That's great," Roy said absently.

 

Joe placed the chart he was holding on the desk. "I'm sorry, Roy. I talked to Kel a few moments ago."

 

"Did he say what he thought Johnny's chances were?"

 

"Roy, we both know that his condition is serious.   But we also know that John's a fighter. He won't give up. Neither should you."

 

"I won't. Thanks, Doc."

 

Taking a couple of steps forward, Joe reached out and placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "Why don't you go to the lounge and get some coffee. It's going to be a long wait."

 

"Doc, before you go, can you tell me something?" Roy asked.

 

"Sure."

 

"Did you happen to treat another patient that was brought in from the same fire? He had some respiratory trouble."

 

"Yes, Roy, I did. You're referring to Phil Bennedetto, correct?"

 

"Right. How is he?"

 

"He's stable now. There was evidence in the x-rays of pulmonary edema caused by the chemical exposure. Most likely some kind of corrosive, like ammonia."

 

"But, he's going to be okay?" Roy inquired.

 

"Yes. I get the impression that you're not asking out of friendly concern."

 

"Idle curiosity," Roy answered. "Do you know what room he's in?"

 

"Yes, Roy, I do. Maybe you should wait to see him though. I know you're upset and I not sure how clearly you're thinking right now. Wait until Johnny's out of surgery."

 

"I'm fine," Roy said. "I just wanted to see how he's doing. Is that OK?"

 

Early sighed.  "Yes. Room 317."

 

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

 

Entering the empty elevator, DeSoto walked to the back wall and leaned against the bar. His eyes followed the numbers as they lit up in sequence.  Exiting on the third floor, Roy quietly paced down the hallway. He stopped when he arrived at room 317.  It was a semi-private, but to his relief, Bennedetto was its sole occupant. Roy took a few steps closer to the bed and studied Phil's face. Startled, he took a step back, when Bennedetto's eyes shot open.

 

"How are you, Phil?" he asked.

 

Bennedetto only blinked in response. His breathing remained even and calm, though Roy could see his lips tighten slightly under the oxygen mask.

 

"Don't worry, I won't stay long," Roy continued. "The doctor said that you're going to be fine. I just wanted to wish you a speedy recovery. You're going to need all you're strength when you get out of here."

 

Bennedetto's face remained passive, his eyes empty.

 

"You see, I know what happened two years ago. Maybe I can't prove it but I can help make sure you go to jail this time." Pausing, Roy stared at Bennedetto for a moment, trying to detect any reaction. He found nothing.

 

"I'm leaving now. The next time we meet will hopefully be in a courtroom. Good-bye Phil."

 

Stepping out into the hallway, Roy noticed by Lieutenant Crockett standing at the nurse's station.

 

"Hello, Roy," Crockett said.  "I assume we're here for the same reason."

 

Roy nodded. "That's right. The only difference is that you're two years too late."

 

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

 

"So, you're finally awake," Roy said with forced cheer.

 

Johnny smiled lopsidedly. "Yeah, they tell me I'm still in one piece," he rasped.

 

Roy looked worriedly at his friend. "Well, you were in the hands of the best fire station in town."

 

"How about giving us a little of the credit," said a voice from behind him.

 

Entering the room, Dr. Kelly Bracket gave Roy a gentle pat on the back.

 

"Hi, Doc," Roy said. Johnny lifted his hand slightly, attempting a wave.

 

Picking up the chart hanging from the edge of the bed, Brackett scanned the pages attached under the clip.  He placed it back on the hook. Walking over to the side of the bed, Kel lifted the cover off of Johnny's leg.  A bandage covered most of the thigh and ended below the knee. Standing directly behind Dr. Bracket, Roy could see that Johnny's lower leg was swollen and had a bluish colour. He saw his partner wince when Dr. Bracket touched Johnny's calf.

 

"How you feeling, Johnny?" Kel asked.

 

"Did you get the number of the truck?" he quipped.

 

Roy and Kel smiled. "Johnny, Dr. Bracket and I are going to step out for a minute, okay?" Roy asked.

 

"Sure, not going anywhere."

 

Gesturing toward the door, Roy followed Kel into the corridor.

 

"Doc, what's wrong with him? I mean, I know what's wrong, but Johnny doesn't look too good. He's going to be okay, right?"

 

Kel chewed on his lip for a moment before answering,

 

"Right?" Roy repeated more urgently.

 

Placing his hand on Roy's shoulder, Kel led him a bit further away from the hospital room door.

 

"Roy, Johnny's very weak right now. When the beam was removed from his leg, there was massive hemorrhaging.  The beam cut the popliteal artery, and extension of the femoral artery that located behind the knee."

 

Roy ran his hand through his hair. "But when I talked to the surgeon last night, he said that the operation went well."

 

"Yes, it did. The bleeding was brought under control quickly, but the beam had cut off some of the blood flow to his leg."

 

"Meaning?" Roy asked.

 

"There was some ischemic damage. We've had some tests done, and located a blood clot, just behind the knee. He's been started on a course of anticoagulant therapy."

 

"What are his chances? What if treatment doesn't work?" Roy hesitated before asking his next question. "Will Johnny lose the use of his leg?"

 

 "Roy, were monitoring him very closely. It's still early and his body hasn't had time to respond to the treatment. "

 

"You didn't answer my question," Roy said.

 

"We're not anticipating any problems. If he doesn't respond to the therapy, we'll have to operate to remove the clot." Kel answered. "Johnny has a low grade fever and is in pain. He's going to need a lot of support, both medically and emotionally."

 

Staring at Dr. Bracket in disbelief, Roy began to have his own creeping sensation of déjà vu. It was two years ago. It couldn't be happening again.

 

"I've got to get back down to emergency. Tell Johnny I'll be up to see him later this afternoon," Kel said. He turned towards the elevators, and disappeared around the corner.

 

Roy walked back into Johnny's room, and found him asleep. He approached the bed and studied his partner's face for a moment. Sighing deeply, Roy gently placed his hand on his friend's arm. Slowly, Johnny opened his eyes.

 

"Sorry, John. I didn't mean to wake you. I guess after last time, I just wanted to be sure you were still here."

 

Johnny smiled faintly. "Yeah, still here. Gonna sleep for a while."

 

Taking a step back, Roy hesitated before leaving the room. Just hold on pal, hold on.

 

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

 

Leaning closely to Phil's bed, the young man's voice was not much more than a whisper." Hey man, that was really a bad scene. I was at the fire. The building blew sky high."

 

"Yeah Brian, it's up to you to keep things going until I get out of here," Phil said.

 

"It's under control." Pushing back his bangs, Brian slid a hand into his coat pocket. He pulled out a syringe.

 

"I thought maybe you'd want to try the new stuff. Pure gold."

 

Snatching the needle from Brian's grasp, Phil quickly hid it under the bedcovers. The two men hesitated before continuing their conversation, as they listened to the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning towards the intruder, Brian lowered his eyes.

 

"Hey, Phil," Mark Sanchez greeted. "Sorry didn't know you had company."

 

"I'm leaving," Brian said. "Speedy recovery, Phil."  Snickering at his own joke, he hurried from the room.

 

Watching the young man depart, Sanchez shrugged his shoulders. "Takes all kinds," he thought. He turned his attention back to Bennedetto.

 

" I hear you're feeling better. That's good." Sanchez eyed the man in the bed carefully.

 

"Why'd you come? It couldn't be for old time sake, now could it?" Bennedetto asked.

 

Smiling, Mark nodded his head. "Now what kind of friend would I be if I weren't concerned?"

 

"Concerned or worried about what I know?" Phil baited.

 

"I don't have anything to worry about. I'm not the one facing drug trafficking charges," Sanchez stated.

 

"I bet that makes you feel good. You think you can finally relax." Attempting to maintain his cool demeanour, Bennedetto forced himself to smile. Occasional pangs of panic entered his mind. Searching for something to say that would put him back on the offensive, Phil lost all conviction as a second man entered the room.

 

"Mr. Bennedetto, I'm Lieutenant Crockett." Turning to Sanchez, he asked if Mark could excuse them.

 

Crockett waited for Sanchez to leave before he continued.

 

"Mr. Bennedetto, I am here to inform you that are being placed under arrest for the possession of illegal narcotics for the purpose of drug trafficking. I am also here to advise you of your rights."

 

The next few moments were a blur for Bennedetto. He vaguely heard the words, but didn't comprehend their meaning. He was being advised that he needed a lawyer. His words and actions could be held against him.

 

"Oh fuck," he thought, "this is for real!"

 

Crockett's voice finally broke through the haze. "Mr. Bennedetto, do you understand your rights?"

 

"Yeah. Sure."

 

"There will be a guard posted outside your door at all times." Crockett continued. "Once you are able, you will be transferred to the LA County Detention Facility. Do you understand everything I have just said?"

 

"Yeah, I got it. Now get out."

 

Silently, Crockett turned and left.

 

Lying heavily back against the pillow, Phil tried to focus his mind. He had always been able to get out of any situation. Why was it so hard this time?

 

I'm not going to jail, Damnit. No one is putting me behind bars. Damn you, Rivers.

 

His next move would have been considered an act of desperation, but to Phil's mind, it was an act of ultimate victory. Reaching for the hypodermic hidden under his covers, Phil ran the fingers of his free hand along his neck. Smiling, he pulled them back. "I guess all that paramedic training wasn't such a waste after all. Raising the syringe, he pushed the needle into his throat, emptying its contents. Phil blew out his breath, and dropped the needle to the floor. Closing his eyes tightly, he almost laughed aloud at the intense flash of euphoria that washed over him.  The pleasure experienced in those few minutes ended abruptly. Grabbing the sides of the bed, Bennedetto felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict.  Monitor alarms echoed his gasps for air. His final memory was of someone yelling about cardiac arrest.

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

 

Staring into the darkness of his bedroom, Roy DeSoto's thoughts ran through the events of the last week. He wondered how Johnny would react to the news about Phil Bennedetto. Roy chided himself for feeling relief at the news of the man's death. He had been trained to save lives and believed in its sanctity. But, this was different, he told himself. It wasn't a very convincing argument.

 

Rolling over on to his side, and taking care not to wake his wife, Roy watched the number's flip by on the bedside clock. Two a.m. He had to be at work in six hours. Shutting his eyes, he tried to will himself to sleep. The shrill ring of the phone broke his concentration.

 

Roy quickly snatched up the receiver.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Yes, this is Roy Desoto. Sure I remember you, Karen."

 

"Roy, who is it? Who's Karen?" Joanne asked.

 

"Placing his hand over the receiver, Roy turned to his wife. "She's an ICU nurse at Rampart. It must be about Johnny." Returning to the phone, Roy raised the receiver to his mouth. "Karen, something's wrong, isn't it?"

 

Joanne hugged her husband's shoulders as he listened. She heard him gasp faintly.

 

"I'll be right there," Roy said to Karen. "Bye."

 

"What is it?" Joanne asked.

 

"They had to take Johnny into surgery again. The treatment they were giving him wasn't working. He started to hemorrhage."

 

"Roy, is he all right?"

 

"The doctors are still operating. They have to remove the clot."

 

"Roy, I'm coming with you. I don't want you to be alone," Joanne said. "I'll call my sister to come over."

 

"Thanks, Jo, but stay here with the kids. I'll be okay." Roy finished pulling on his shirt, then bent over to kiss his wife. "I'll call as soon as I know something."

 

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

 

Pacing the waiting area of the surgical ward, Roy alternated between checking his watch and the clock on the wall. It had been an hour since his arrival, and the silence began to wear on him. He turned at the sound of the lounge door swishing open.

 

"I thought maybe you could use this," Dixie McCall said as she pushed a Styrofoam cup of coffee into his hand. "Black, right? I'm sorry but vending machine is all I could get."

 

"No problem, Dix. Thanks. You really are an angel, in any colour. But what are you doing here? You don't usually work the graveyard shift." He frowned at his poor choice of words.

 

"I made a switch with one of the other nurses," Dixie said. "I'm glad now that I did. Karen told me she called you and I thought that maybe you could use some company. Is Joanne here?"

 

"No, she wanted to come but I didn't think it was a good idea for us both to be gone in the middle of the night. The kids are used to my shift work but would probably get scared if we both were gone." Roy smiled. "Though, I have to admit, my own company was getting on my nerves."

 

"Why don't you have a seat? You look exhausted."

 

Sitting on the couch, at Dixie's suggestion, Roy placed his cup on the table. "Dix, you know what I really need right now?"

 

"What, Roy?"

 

"I need to talk to Johnny. I need him to tell me about one of his zany ideas, about his latest invention or get rich quick schemes. As much as he drives me nuts sometimes, I'd give anything to hear one of his stories about now." He paused. "I hate this waiting."

 

Dixie took a seat beside Roy. "I know it's hard." She squeezed Roy's arm.

 

"I remember when Johnny first joined the program, back in our pioneer days," Dixie started and then chuckled. "He was such a hard head. I remember he even got into a couple of tussles with Kel. Now there's a match. It would become a contest of who was more stubborn."

 

Grinning, Roy nodded his head in agreement.

 

"And, when I found out that you two were teaming up together, I thought that it would never work. You were too different. I'm very happy to admit that I was wrong."

 

"Yeah, Johnny almost didn't stay with the paramedic program. There are a lot of people out there who are very fortunate that he did. He's good at his job. I'm lucky to have him as my partner."

 

"I think he's pretty lucky too, Roy."

 

Blushing, Roy lowered his eyes. Raising them again, he turned to Dixie. His brow furrowed. "John's going to be fine, isn't he?"

 

Dixie was spared the task of answering Roy's question as the surgeon entered the room.

 

Bracing himself on the arm of the couch, Roy stood. Dixie took a place beside him. She was the first to speak.

 

"Hi, David. This is John Gage's partner, Roy DeSoto. Roy and Johnny are two of our paramedics. Roy, Dr. Bauer is Johnny's surgeon."

 

"How is he doctor?" Roy asked.

 

"The surgery went very well." Dr. Bauer stopped to remove the surgical cap from his head. "The clot has been removed and his clotting times are at normal levels. We're discontinuing the anticoagulant therapy for now, and will be monitoring John over the next 24-72 hours for any further formations."

 

"So," Roy said, "Johnny's all right."

 

"Well," Dr. Bauer said, "he's going to have some pain and discomfort for the next several days.  As soon as he's able, we'll be putting Johnny through some extensive physical therapy. I want him back on his feet as quickly as possible."

 

"That's great," Roy beamed. "Thank you, Doc."

 

Grinning at the look on Roy's face, Dr. Bauer extended his hand to DeSoto. "Good-bye Roy. I'm glad things went well.  Johnny's in recovery and should be back to his room in about a half of an hour." Raising his hand to wave to Dixie, Dr. Bauer turned to leave.

 

"Thanks, David," she called out.

 

Looking at Roy, Dixie smiled. "Now that we know Johnny's taken care of, how about we take care of you."

 

"What do you mean?" Roy asked.

 

Folding her arms across her chest, Dixie looked sternly at Roy. "I'm ordering you home, to rest. And don't even think about arguing with me. It is now 4 a.m. You can try to get a couple hours of sleep."

 

"But, I…" Roy started.

 

"But nothing mister. Home.  Johnny won't know that you're here. Don't make me leave instructions with Karen to chase you off the floor. The poor girl has enough to do." Dixie placed a hand on Roy's shoulder and turned him towards the door. "Goodnight, Mr. DeSoto."

 

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

 

"It's nice of you to join us Roy," Captain Stanley said as the men of Station 51 prepared for roll call.

 

"Sorry Cap," Roy responded, "but there were extenuating circumstances."

 

"I hope you excuses are better than you partner's." Stanley smiled. "Actually, I give him high marks in the originality department." Raising his clipboard, Hank began addressing the matters at hand. He finished by assigning the duties for the day.

 

"Not latrine again. I'll be glad when Gage gets back," Chet whined as he followed the others into the kitchen.

 

Taking a seat at the table, Roy rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.  "I'd like to explain why I was late."

 

"Go ahead, Roy," Cap said.

 

"At about 2:30 last night I got a phone call that they had to take Johnny to surgery again. To remove the blood clot."

 

"Geez, Roy. Is he okay?" Marco asked.

 

"So far. The doctor said the surgery went well. John's going to need a lot of therapy. They won't know for a couple of days yet if there are any complications."

 

"No wonder you look so tired," Mike said. "Can Johnny have visitors?"

 

"Yeah, I think so," Roy said. "He's still in ICU."

 

"I guess no one's had the chance to tell him about Bennedetto," Chet stated.

 

"That's right," Cap agreed. "It'll probably be the best medicine he could get. Does anyone know how he died?"

 

"No, not really. Some type of seizure. I think," Roy answered. "I guess this is going to sound harsh, but I don't care. I'm just glad it's over." He turned to his temporary partner. "Hey Billy, how about we make a supply run to the hospital."

 

"Sure, but I don't think we need…" Pausing, he realized what DeSoto meant. "Ah, sure Roy, good idea."

 

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

 

"You go ahead, Roy. I'll stay here and entertain Nurse Carol. She doesn't mind." Smiling at the woman standing at the nurse's station, Billy winked. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Johnny want to talk. Give him my best, willya?"

 

"Sure, Billy. See you in a bit." Waving, Roy dashed into the elevator just as the doors began to close.

 

Exiting on the ICU floor, DeSoto walked quickly to Johnny's room. When Roy entered the room, he saw that Johnny already had a visitor.

 

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I can come back."

 

"No, that's all right, I was leaving anyway." Mark Sanchez held his hand out to Roy. "You look surprised to see me."

 

Roy shook the hand tentatively. "You're one of the last people I expected to see."

 

"Look, Roy. I only came to call a truce. What happened, happened. No one can change that. I'm willing to let it go. I just wanted to be sure the Johnny felt the same way."

 

Looking over at Johnny, Roy tried to read his friend's expression. Johnny simply nodded.

 

"Okay, Mark.  Truce."

 

"Good," Sanchez said. Bending down to retrieve his windbreaker from the chair, Mark walked by Roy. "You know, Phil wasn't always a bad guy, just got too greedy." He continued out of the room.

 

Waiting until Sanchez left, Roy stepped up closer to the bed.

 

'"So champ, how do you feel after round two?"

 

Johnny chuckled. "I should have taken the fall." Laughter soon turned to coughing spasms as the exertion overwhelmed him.

 

Alarmed, Roy reached for the bell to alert the nurse.

 

"No, Roy," Johnny wheezed, "I'm okay. It passes."

 

"It's not okay," Roy said. "When did this start?"

 

"This morning. They know about it. Already done some tests."

 

"What kind of tests, Johnny?" Roy asked anxiously.

 

"Don't know. Just tests." Johnny tried to quickly change the topic.

 

"Did you see the plant my aunt sent? She's still at her friend's place in New York. The nurse told me that she called, but I was sort of out of it at the time."

 

 Focusing his attention on the sound of Johnny's laboured breathing, Roy was semi-aware of the conversation. Beads of sweat began to cover his friend's forehead.

"Johnny," Roy interrupted, "I'm getting the nurse."

 

"Wait," Johnny said. "Mark said Phil's dead. True?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Fire?"

 

"Yes," Roy answered, reaching once more for the call button.  Within minutes, a nurse appeared in the room.

 

"Sharon," Roy said, "something's wrong. He's having trouble breathing."

 

Frowning, Nurse Walters stepped closer to the bed. "Johnny are you in any pain?"

 

"Chest hurts. Head hurts too," he answered faintly. His response was interrupted by another series of coughs. A small amount of blood trickled down his chin.

Sharon reached for the receiver on the pager phone. "Dr. Bauer to Room 425, stat."

 

Watching events from the foot of the bed, Roy was startled by the crackling of the handi-talkie in his hand.

 

"Squad 51, what is you status?"

 

Roy hesitated.

 

"Squad 51, what is you status?" repeated the calm voice of the dispatcher.

 

Shakily, Roy raised the HT to his mouth. "Squad 51…available."

 

"Squad 51, stand-by for response."

 

Roy nervously looked at Sharon. "I gotta go."

 

Hastily he walked over to the side of the bed and clutched his friend's arm. " I'll be back as soon as I can.  You can fight it"

 

"Don't worry, Roy, will take good care of him," Sharon said in a comforting voice.

 

Swallowing hard, Roy released his hold on Johnny and hurried out of the room.

 

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

 

"Any change, Roy?"

 

"Nothing Doc. Vitals are stable. She regained consciousness on the way in, and was complaining of a headache."

 

Dr. Early looked down at the woman lying on the examination table. "So, Mrs. Barnes, I guess you won't be strapping on anymore roller skates in the near future."

His patient only groaned in response.

 

Standing impatiently at the door, Roy interrupted their conversation. "Doc, do you need me?"

 

"No, thanks Roy."

 

Stepping out of the treatment room, DeSoto was met by Dr. Bracket.

 

"Slow down, Roy," Kel said. "I wanted to talk to you before you went to see Johnny."

 

Scanning the hall for Billy, Roy was ushered into Dr. Bracket's office. Kel offered him a chair.

 

"I asked Carol to advise Billy that you'd be in here."

 

"So, Doc," Roy started. "What do you need to tell me? Something that wasn't anticipated happen?"

 

"Now wait a minute," Kel said with annoyance. "Where did that come from? That's not fair, Roy and you know it."

 

"Okay, I'm sorry." Roy's eyes narrowed. "It's funny, though. Everyone keeps telling me not to worry. The operation went well. But I get a call in the middle of the night telling me Johnny's been taken back into surgery. Again, I'm told, don't worry, everything should be fine. But it's not."

 

"Look Roy, Johnny's getting the best care possible."

 

"Yes, but?" Roy prodded.

 

"There's been a complication. Johnny's developed pneumonia from a post-operative infection. We conducted some test this morning when he started showing signs of respiratory distress."

 

"He told me about the tests, but wouldn't say why," Roy said flatly.

 

"Once we received the results of the sputum culture, we started Johnny on antibiotics."

 

"I understand. What about his leg? Is it healing?"

 

"Yes, though we're still monitoring for any clot development. The blood work that was done this morning looked good," Kel responded.

 

"Can I see him?" Roy asked.

 

"Of course. Just try to keep it short. You'll have to wear a gown and mask. We don't want to risk any further infection."

 

"No, of course not." An underlying note of sarcasm could be heard in his voice.

 

Opening the door, Roy heard Kel calling after him. Ignoring Dr. Bracket, DeSoto continued down the hall.

 

 

Pushing open the door to Johnny's room, Roy quietly approached his partner's bed. His friend's face was drawn and pale.

 

"Hey pal, it's Roy. Can you hear me?" he said softly.

 

Gage nodded his head slightly. Roy saw that Johnny was trying to speak, but couldn't understand the words through the oxygen mask.

 

"It's okay, John. I'll do the talking. You just rest." Roy forced a smile. "You know, it's not often you let me get a word in edgewise."

 

Johnny made a face and raised his eyebrows slightly.

 

"They told me I can't stay long.  Do you want me to get the nurse for anything? Do you need anything?"

 

Johnny shook his head. Reaching up, he pulled the mask away from his mouth.

 

"Thanks, Roy. Don't worry." Letting go of the mask, his arm fell back to his side.

 

"I think I'm supposed to be telling you that, John."

 

Opening the door a few feet, Nurse Steven's stepped into the room. "Two more minutes, Roy. Our patient needs his beauty sleep." She addressed Johnny. "Isn't that right, handsome?"

 

Grinning weakly, Roy acknowledged Karen's attempt to ease his worry. He looked down at Johnny. "I guess they're kicking me out.  Take it easy buddy. I'll try to get back as soon as I can."

 

Following Roy out of the room, Karen tried to offer some words of comfort.

 

"Karen," Roy said impatiently, "it's not that I don't appreciate your concern, but the only thing that's going to make me feel better is Johnny getting out of this hospital."

 

"Try to be patient, Roy. I know it's hard."

 

"Yeah," Roy said, resigned. "I've gotta get back to the station. Thanks."

 

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

 

Three weeks later

 

"Ready, Johnny? Your chariot awaits," Roy said from behind the wheelchair he had pushed into the room.

 

"No, Roy I changed my mind. After a month, I've decided I like it here," Johnny smirked.

 

"Okay, then, but I wish you had called before I came all the way down here."

 

"Well," Johnny conceded, "since you've already made the effort." He swung his legs off the bed.

 

Assisting, his partner into the wheelchair, Roy ushered him out of the room.

 

"Wait," Johnny said. Turning his head, he caught sight of Karen Stevens.  Winking at the nurse, Johnny waved her over.

 

 Taking her hand in his, Johnny smiled. "I'm leaving now Karen, but I just wanted to thank you for everything."

 

"My pleasure, Johnny. If you need anything, anything at all, please call." She choked back a laugh. "Good-bye."

 

Taking her hand from John's, Karen waved to him as she walked away.

 

Continuing down the hallway, Roy remained silent for a few moments. "Okay, John, what was that all about? You two were just putting me on, right?"

 

"I don't know what you mean, Roy?"

 

"That whole thing with Karen."

 

"Ah, Roy, let's go home."

 

"OK," Roy said, " so don't tell me. Though speaking of home, Joanne and I talked and we have no problem with setting up the guestroom. John, are you sure you won't change you're mind?"

 

"Positive. But thank Joanne for me, anyway."

 

Exiting Rampart, the two men approached Roy's car. Opening the door, Roy helped Johnny into the passenger's side. Pushing the chair onto the sidewalk, DeSoto returned to the car and started the ignition.

 

"When did you say your first therapy session was, John?"

 

"Thursday."

 

"How are you getting there?"

 

A mischievous grin crossed his face. "Karen said she'd pick me up."

 

Roy eyed him curiously. "Yeah, right."

 

"You know, Roy, I'm looking forward to getting back to my nice predictable life. I think Phil Bennedetto provided enough excitement to last a long time, for both of us."

 

Not yet out off the parking lot, Roy stopped the car.

 

"What's wrong?" Johnny asked. "What did I say?"

 

Roy looked perturbed. "Johnny, there was nothing exiting about what Phil Bennedetto did. He may have thought it was all a game, but things he did hurt a lot of people. No one knows that better than you."

 

"Roy, I just meant life would finally be back to normal. It's over and we can relax. You can't always dwell on the maybes and could have happened. The fact is, it didn't." He paused. "Anyway, there's only room for one gloom and doom person in this partnership, and you already have that job."

 

Roy laughed. "I'm not gloomy. I'm as optimistic as the next person. Maybe you should just consider following my advice a little more often."

 

"What?" Johnny said, "then I'd never have any fun."

 

"It just bugs you that I'm right," Roy laughed.

 

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yes, O Sage one. Let's go before I have a relapse. I think the headache's starting already."

 

Das Ende

 

Author's note#2. Thanks as always to my ever-patient beta.  And thank you Mary for the medical advice.

 

 

 

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