Foundations

Part 2 

 

 

            Will paced back and forth in front of the covered windows.  Nothing had gone the way he'd wanted it to.  If only the kids had been in their classrooms.  He would have taken them with him and then none of this would have happened.  He didn't want to be here now.  He hadn't wanted it to be this way.  He hadn't wanted to hurt that little girl.

 

            But it was Darlene's fault.  She was the one who cheated on him.  She was the one who left in the night and took his kids.  She was the one who wouldn't let him see them.  She was the one who made it so that he had to come down to the school and try and sneak them away.  It was her fault.  This whole mess was her fault.

 

            He stopped his movements and peered cautiously out the drapes.  He couldn't see anyone out there.  That irritating, baby faced medic was right.  The cops should be out there somewhere.  He didn't like that he couldn't see them, that he didn't know what they were up to.  They should be contacting him, finding out what he wanted.  It wasn't right that it was so quiet and empty out there.

 

            He glanced nervously over his shoulder.  His little group of hostages were still huddled together in the corner of the room.  The kids looks scared to death, and the young man was holding the little girl who'd been hurt.  Will regretted that.  He wasn't a monster.  He didn't want to have to do this, but he'd been pushed into a corner until he had no choice.

 

            The shrill ring of a telephone cut through the silence and he whirled, gun ready.

 

            "It's just the phone, Mr. Franks," the teacher's voice quailed fearfully as she pointed to the wall by her desk.

 

            He could see it now, and rushed over, but paused with his hand on the receiver.

 

            "Is this an outside line?"

 

            Miss Perry shook her head.  "No.  It only goes to the office."

 

            Will frowned for a moment, wondering what that meant, then picked up the phone.

 

* * *

 

            Roy lay back in his hospital bed, only half listening to the afternoon talk show that Chet was engrossed in.  It wasn't a program Roy watched very often, but at the moment, he was grateful it was keeping his roommate occupied.  Chet had started out the morning with a case of motor mouth that could have rivaled Johnny on his best day, and the Irishman hadn't really stopped until lunch was served.  He'd eaten, then turned on the TV.  Roy had given silent thanks for the break.

 

            He shifted in the less than comfortable bed.  He wished he could go home right now.  His throat hurt and he hadn't gotten much sleep today, though that wasn't all Kelly's fault.  Roy knew he would feel better at home.  He sighed and turned to his side, closing his eyes to try and catch some kind of nap while Chet was quiet.  He would certainly be glad when Joanne came in the morning to check him out of here.

 

            Thinking of his wife, though, caused his mind to start working, making sleep even more elusive.  Joanne had been here last night, but he hadn't heard from her today at all.  He knew it was hard on her to try and visit with Jenny in tow, so he hadn't really expected her to drop in.  But it was strange that she hadn't even called him.

 

            He was probably being a baby.  Joanne always accused him of acting that way when he was sick.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe he was just feeling sorry for himself because his only visitor had been Johnny this morning, and he'd only stayed a few minutes.  Just long enough to drop off some ice cream and then sneak away in the middle of one of Chet's long winded tales of romance in the line of duty.

 

            He must have finally dozed off, for he was suddenly aware of Chet calling his name from the other bed.

 

            "Roy?  Hey, Roy?  Did Gage say anything to you about going somewhere tonight?"

 

            "Huh?  What?"  Roy turned over to squint at Chet.  The light in the room had dimmed, and he wondered what time it was.

 

            "Hey, were you asleep?  Sorry, man."  Chet didn't look too remorseful.  He was sitting up in his bed, the telephone in his lap.

 

            Roy rubbed at his eyes.  "That's okay," he rasped.  "I was just resting."  He frowned at the TV.  The news was on so it must be late afternoon at least.  "Sorry, Chet.  What did you ask me?"

 

            "I was just wonderin' if Gage mentioned anything to you about going somewhere tonight.  I've been tryin' to call him and he's not answering."

 

            Roy shook his head.  "I don't think so."  The way he remembered it, Johnny hadn't said much of anything during his brief visit, but he wasn't going to mention that to Chet.  He cleared his throat cautiously and managed to talk a little louder.  "Why are you looking for Johnny?"

 

            "Are you kidding?"  The NBA Allstar game is on tonight.  I want to be sure he doesn't welch on our bet."

 

            Roy rolled his eyes.  He knew these bets rarely went over a dollar or two, mostly because Johnny was too cheap to risk more than that.

 

            "Maybe he's at Marco's," he suggested hoarsely.

 

            Chet shook his curly head.  "I already checked there.  Marco says he tried callin' to invite him over, but no luck."

 

            Roy sighed, tired of talking already.  "Well, maybe he's out on a date."  He let his eyes focus on the television, hoping Chet took the hint and stopped asking him questions.

 

            "Gage?  Are you kidding?  In his dreams." Chet leaned back against his pillows, his good arm propped behind his head.  "If Gage had a date, he would've been crowing about it."

 

            Roy didn't answer and Chet remained silent for a time.  But it didn't last for long.

 

            "So... are you really into the news or can I change the channel?  You know they have a whole bunch of pre-game stuff goin' on."

 

            Roy shrugged.  "Watch whatever you want."  He decided he'd talked enough for one evening and settled down in his bed, hoping the basketball activities would keep Chet entertained for a while.  But he bolted back up immediately just as Kelly hit the button on the remote.

 

            "Wait, Chet, turn back!"  His voice was more of a croak now, but the urgency still came through enough for Chet to switch back to the news.

 

            ...one is sure yet what the gunman's motives are.  Our sources tell us police are in contact with him at this time and as soon...

 

            "What's goin' on?"

 

            Roy held up his hand for Chet to keep still as the reporter continued the coverage.

 

            ...officials have confirmed that there are children as well as at least one teacher being held hostage.  There is also allegedly at least one parent in the classroom.  Information is still sketchy as law enforcement continues to try and get a handle on this potentially explosive situation.  Right now, we're going to switch to our field reporter, Troy Stevens, who is on site.  Troy?

 

            The man on the scene began talking into his mic, mostly repeating what the anchor had already stated.  After a few moments, when it became clear there was nothing new to learn, Roy reached over and grabbed his own phone, dialing his number as fast as could.  An eternity seemed to drag by before the connection went through and he could hear the ringing on the other end.

 

            "Roy... hey, Roy, what's up, man?"

 

            Chet's voice was only a minor annoyance, easily drowned out by the other, more worrisome thoughts in the paramedic's head.

 

            C'mon, Jo... answer the phone.  You gotta be home.  You gotta be home.

 

            The ringing continued unanswered.

 

            Okay, you're outside with the kids.  But you hafta hear the phone.  Come in and answer for Christ's sake.  Joanne, answer the phone.

 

            The only answer he got was more ringing.  He finally hung up, his hands still holding tightly to the telephone, his fingers drumming nervously on the receiver.

 

            It doesn't mean anything.  She could be across the street at Norma's.  She could be at the grocery store.  Hell, she could be in the shower.  Call again in a few minutes.  Call again...

 

            "Roy?"

 

            Don't bother me now, Chet.  For once in your life get a clue and shut up.

 

            "Roy?  Man, are you okay?"

 

            He spared his roommate a quick glance and nodded towards the TV.  "Don't you hear what's going on?" he rasped.

 

            Chet's eyes flicked toward the screen, then turned back towards Roy.  "Sure I do.  Some nut's holding a bunch of kids hostage at a school.  That's pretty creepy, but there's not much we can do..."

 

            "Chet!"  Roy's throat protested such abuse, but the paramedic only swallowed back the discomfort.  He picked up the receiver and used it to point to the TV.  "That's Chris' school they're talkin' about."  He quickly dialed his number again.

 

            Chet had once more turned his gaze to the reporter on the screen, his brows knit in concentration as he really listened to what was being said.  All Roy had ears for was the unanswered ringing at his home.  After a time, he slammed the receiver back into its cradle, and ran a hand through his hair.

 

            "You think Chris is in there?" Chet asked at last.

 

            Roy shook his head and shrugged in frustration.  "I don't know," he whispered painfully, his voice nearly gone.  "I can't get hold of Joanne."

 

* * *

 

            Joanne shifted slightly, trying to ease the cramp in her leg without waking Jennifer.  The three year old had fallen asleep about a half an hour ago, and Joanne wanted her to stay that way as long as possible.  It was bad enough that her children were having to go through this frightening ordeal.  Better that her youngest sleep through as much of the tension as she could.  But sitting on the floor for several hours was starting to become uncomfortable, especially since any big movement caused their captor to react and come running to cover them with his rifle.

 

            He'd been on the phone, apparently with the police, several times over the last couple of hours.  It was obvious from what they'd heard on this end, that there was a negotiator trying to get the man to give in, give up, let the children go.  Each conversation lasted for a time, with Will insisting they bring his two children to the classroom, that no one would be released until that happened.  But every call ended in the same manner, with Will slamming the receiver back into its cradle.  He would then pace back and forth in front of the draped windows, muttering frustrated oaths at the police, his wife and his life in general.  Joanne had reached the point where she almost dreaded the next attempt to talk to him.  She would rather he stayed calm and the police were only stirring him up.

 

            "Mom?"

 

            Joanne glanced down at her son, sitting between her and Johnny.  The kids had shifted positions a few times after making trips to the bathroom.  Fortunately, this classroom had originally been used for kindergartners and there was an inside toilet.  Things might have been a whole lot more uncomfortable if not for that saving grace.  Now, Chris leaned against his mother's side, but Joanne also noticed he kept one hand on Johnny's arm, as if seeking comfort from both adults.

 

            "What is it, sweetie?" she whispered softly.

 

            "I'm kinda hungry," he told her in a quiet voice.  "Do you think we get to eat dinner tonight?"

 

            Joanne shot a glance at the windows.  Even with the drapes drawn, she could tell it was dusk.  There were no more slivers of sunlight filtering in between the vinyl panels.

 

            "I don't know, baby, we'll just have to wait and see."

 

            "I've got some snacks in the cupboard," Miss Perry said softly.  "Crackers and cookies."  The teacher's eyes moved over to where Will stood guard at the window.  "Do you think he'd care if we gave the kids some?"

 

            Joanne shook her head and turned to Johnny for his opinion.  The paramedic was still holding Kellie in his arms, a burden that had to be getting tiresome.  There was a deep purple ring of bruising under his right eye and his right cheek was discolored and swollen, with a raw, ugly gash along the bone.  His eyes showed the strain of what he'd been through, but he gave Joanne an understanding half smile.

 

            "You want me to ask him?"

 

            She knew it wasn't fair to put him in a position to incur the gunman's wrath again, but the wave of relief that washed over her at his words made her unable to do anything but nod her head gratefully.

 

            Johnny straightened slightly, careful not to jostle the wounded child he was holding.  Joanne  watched the tender way he cradled the small head, knowing if she were that little girl's mother, she would be grateful that someone like Johnny was taking care of her daughter.

 

            "Uh... Mr. Franks... Will?"

 

            The man turned in their direction, scowling at them as if they were the cause of all his problems.

 

            "You again?" he growled at Johnny.  "You're becoming a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

 

            Joanne held her breath, hoping the man didn't go off again, but he stayed at his position by the window.

 

            "Sorry, 'bout that," Johnny apologized, in a conciliatory tone.  "We just wanted to get the kids some crackers and stuff.  Is that okay?"

            Will took a moment to consider, then nodded crisply.  "Sure.  Why not."

            Joanne felt her breathing resume as Miss Perry got up and moved a few feet to the cupboard above the drinking fountain.  She pulled out several boxes of Ritz crackers and animal cookies, then came back over and sat down.  In a few moments, the kids were munching quietly.  It wasn't much, but it would hopefully keep them happy for a while.  Joanne took a few to save for Jenny when she woke up, then turned to Johnny.

 

            "Should we save any for Kellie?" she asked.  "I mean, when she wakes up.  She probably needs to..."

 

            Something in Johnny's face stopped Joanne in the middle of her sentence.  She regarded him curiously for a moment.  His face was set, his expression blank, but she could swear there were unshed tears in his eyes.  Her gaze moved slowly from his stony features to the little girl he held close.  His arms tightened around her slightly, a protective gesture, and Joanne suddenly knew.

 

            Her hand came to her mouth to muffle the sharp intake of breath, and she saw Johnny shake his head in an almost imperceptible movement.

 

            "When?" she whispered, hearing the catch in her voice.

 

            It took the paramedic a moment to answer, but he finally turned his head toward her to keep their conversation between the two of them.

 

            "She, uh... she slipped away about an hour ago."

 

            "Oh, God," Joanne breathed, but Johnny shook his head again, silencing her with the fierceness of his stare.

 

            "He can't know."  Johnny's voice was low, but his tone was fervent.  "We can't let him know."

 

            Her eyes darted quickly over to the windows, then back to the man beside her.  "Johnny... how can..."

 

            "We just keep pretending she's unconscious," he whispered back.

 

            Joanne's gaze rested on the pale face nestled against Johnny's chest.  Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of how easily it could have been Jenny or Chris lying there.

 

            She shook her head.  "But... how can we pretend?"

 

            "Joanne... Joanne, listen to me.  I couldn't help her."  Though he was barely whispering, the emotion in his voice was raw, and she knew she'd never be able to fully comprehend what it must have been like for him to sit here and hold this little girl while she died.  "There wasn't anything I could do," he went on.  "But I'm damn sure gonna keep the rest of these kids alive.  If he realizes he's killed her..."  He paused and glanced towards the man for a brief moment.  "I don't want him to think he's got nothin' to lose.  Understand?"

 

            She looked into his face, his intense brown eyes and realized the full import of what he was telling her.  He was right.  The man holding them was walking a very fine line and if he found out he'd killed a child, it could push him over the edge.  He wouldn't have anywhere to go.  What would there be to stop him from hurting or killing any of the rest of them... of hurting Chris or Jenny?  Joanne sat back and hugged her sleeping daughter close, hoping the rapid beating of her heart didn't disturb her child's peaceful slumber.  She reached one arm out and pulled Chris in close as well.  She wanted to hold her babies, to feel them in her arms.

 

            She couldn't help but cast one more glance at Johnny and the lifeless little girl he held in his arms.  As she watched, the paramedic reached up and brushed a wisp of copper hair off the pale face.  Joanne closed her eyes to fight the tears that welled up once more in her eyes.  For the child who would never again laugh or play, for Kellie's mother who would never again hold her baby in her arms.  And for Johnny, for what he was doing for all of them.

 

 

* * *

 

            Roy sat on the edge of his hospital bed and pulled on his socks and shoes.  The TV was on channel 5, since the networks had long since started their regular nightly programming.  This was a local news event and KTLA, would probably cover it until its conclusion.  Chet had fallen silent and was sitting on his bed watching intently, the basketball game apparently forgotten.  Roy finished getting dressed as he listened to Stan Chambers do his field reporting.  He'd decided a few minutes ago that he couldn't sit around Rampart not knowing what was going on with his family.

 

            He'd called home repeatedly, but Joanne still wasn't answering the phone.  It wasn't like his wife to be away from the house at dinner time on a school night, and there was a horrible wrenching feeling growing in Roy's gut, as if he was on a collision course with no way to avoid what was going to happen.  He had to get to the school.  He had to know.

 

            "You're sure you wanna do this?" Chet asked suddenly and Roy glanced up to see his friend perched on the edge of the bed eyeing him expectantly.  "Your doc isn't gonna be too thrilled to find his patient's flown the coop.  Not to mention what the brass might say about you ignoring your doctor's orders."

 

            "I don't care," Roy whispered, trying to spare his throat as much as he could.  "It's not like I'm in here for open heart surgery."  He paused and swallowed gingerly, giving the television another long look.  "I have to find out what's going on," he finished, his voice giving out on the last few words.

 

            "Well then hang on a second and help me get dressed."  Kelly slid off the bed and walked over to the closet where his uniform and shoes had been placed after he'd been admitted.  He grabbed up his things and brought them over to Roy's bed.  "Only having one good arm is a real pisser," he announced lightly as he struggled to pull on his pants.

 

            Roy watched him for a moment, then frowned.  "Wha... what are you...  There's no reason for you to get in trouble."

 

            Chet held up his hand for silence, his face wearing a pained expression.  "Don't talk any more than ya have to, pal," he advised.  "You making my throat hurt just listenin' to you."  He'd managed to get his feet in the trouser legs, but was having a hard time pulling them up.  He stopped and looked up to meet Roy's curious face.  "You might as well help me out here, 'cause I'm goin' with you."

 

            Roy opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.  Knowing Chet could be as stubborn as Johnny when he set his mind on something, the paramedic took it as a sign and leaned over to help Kelly get dressed.  He had his pants and shoes, but his shirt had been cut off after the accident, so Roy settled for just pulling Chet's white T-shirt over his head and casted right shoulder.

 

            "Thanks, man," Chet said with a sheepish grin for his helplessness.

 

            Roy just shrugged it off and took one last glance around the room.  While he really didn't care what his ENT thought about his leaving the hospital early, he knew if he ran into either Brackett or Dixie, he'd have to endure a lecture about the hazards of ignoring his doctor's instructions.  He hoped they could get out of Rampart without encountering either of them.  He didn't feel like wasting a lot of time right now explaining his actions.  Whatever trouble he might get into with the Fire Department he'd face when and if that time came.

 

            "Come on," he whispered to Chet and started for the door.

 

            Kelly stepped up beside him, but stopped him from opening the door by holding it shut with his good hand.  "There's just one small problem here, Roy.  How were you planning on getting to the school?"

 

            Roy's shoulders sagged as Chet's words sank into his brain.  He'd been so worried about Joanne and the kids that he hadn't even considered the fact that he didn't have a car here.  He pulled out his wallet but knew before he even looked that he didn't have enough cash on him for a taxi.  He hadn't planned on needing much money while he was getting his tonsils out.  He glanced up at Chet, but since the firefighter had been injured while on shift, odds were he didn't have anything on him either.

 

            Chet shook his head as if he could read Roy's thoughts.  "Sorry, man.  I'm fresh outta bucks right now.  Besides, a taxi would take too long."  The Irishman looked thoughtful for a moment, then his eyes lit up in a way that told Roy he was up to something.

 

            "Wait here, Roy.  Ol' Chester B's gonna take care of everything."

 

            If he'd had any other options, the paramedic would have run the other way.  He'd had far too much experience with both Chet's and Johnny's schemes.  But there was Kelly grinning at him and Roy knew he had no other choice but to nod reluctant agreement.  The shorter man's eyes twinkled as he patted Roy's shoulder enthusiastically, then slipped out the door.

 

            Roy found himself alone in the hospital room, wondering how long it would be before the nurses made their rounds.  The site of the two unmade beds made him feel like an errant school boy, hoping Chet got back before they got caught.  But the voice of the reporter droning softly from the television they'd left on strengthened Roy's resolve to get to Chris' school and find out for himself what was happening with his family.

 

            The door pushed open and Roy stepped back, expecting to see Chet, but the flash of white told him he was busted even before Dixie came into the room.

 

            "Hi, Roy, you must be feeling better.  I just stopped by..."

 

            The nurse's voice trailed off as she took in Roy's state of dress.  Her eyes moved to the empty beds, then back to the paramedic's face.

            "What is this?  The Great Escape?" she asked wryly.  "I'm assuming Chet's not in the bathroom."

 

            "Uh.... no, he's not," Roy stammered, face red with chagrin.  "We, uh, I mean I need..."  He swallowed to try and ease the irritation in his throat.  "I just hafta go, Dix," he finished lamely, knowing she wasn't going to accept that for a minute.

 

            "I can see that," she replied evenly.  "And you're in such a big hurry that you just decided to check yourself out and to heck with your doctor."  Her face grew softer as she reached for his hand.  "What's going on?"

 

            Roy sighed and led her over to get a better view of the television.  They stood side by side and listened for a few minutes.  Finally Dixie turned to regard him curiously.

 

            "Sounds like a pretty scary situation," she commented.  "And how are you involved?"

 

            Roy sat down on the edge of the bed.  "That's my son's school," he told her quietly, and when she still looked at him expectantly, he continued.  "I can't get in touch with Joanne.  I've tried all afternoon."  He had to stop and reach for the cup of water on his bedside tray, grimacing as he swallowed the liquid.

 

            Dixie came over and took the empty cup and filled it again from the pitcher.

 

            "You should really be resting your throat," she commented as she handed him the refill.

 

            He nodded as he struggled to swallow more water.  When he was done, he set the cup down and glanced up to see Dixie standing there with her arms folded in front of her as if she was going to chew him out, but her face told him otherwise, and he allowed himself to relax a little.

 

            "I understand you being worried, but you don't know anything for sure right now, do you?"

 

            Roy shook his head, but when he opened his mouth to argue, the nurse stopped him.  "Look... Roy, if something's going on with your family..."  She nodded toward the T.V.  "If they're there..."

 

            She paused and Roy knew what she tactfully hadn't said.  If his family was in trouble, if Chris did happen to be one of the kids being held hostage at the school, there wasn't a hell of a lot Roy would be able to do about it.  He knew that, but there was no way he was going to sit around a hospital room waiting to hear something.  He was going to the school.

 

            His determination must have shown on his face, for Dixie's hand came down on his shoulder just as he made to stand up again.

 

            "I'm not going to try and stop you," she told him kindly.  "All I'm saying is what will it hurt to wait a few more minutes?  Joe's here.  Let me track him down and have him come up and release you officially.  The last thing you want to worry about is getting into trouble with work."

 

            Roy held her gaze for a moment, then yielded to her logic and slowly nodded.  Dixie gave him a warm smile, then started towards the door.

 

            As she reached to push it open, the door swung towards her and Chet was suddenly there wearing a Cheshire cat smile that froze on his face when he saw Dixie.

 

            "Uh, hi there, Miss McCall," he greeted hesitantly, his eyes moving between the nurse and Roy.  "I... uh, I was just out... uh..."

 

            Dixie spared him the struggle to come up with an excuse.  She patted him on the arm as she walked out the door.

 

            "It's okay, Chet.  Have a seat and I'll be right back."

 

            Roy had to smile as he watched Kelly's perplexed face.  When the Irishman turned for an explanation, Roy shrugged.

 

            "Paperwork," he whispered.

 

            Chet sank down on the edge of his bed and shook his curly head.  "So we don't get to sneak out after all?"  He sounded disappointed.

 

            True to her word, Dixie came back in a few minutes with Joe Early in tow.  She must have filled him in on the situation, for he didn't bother asking unnecessary questions.  Instead he commenced a quick yet thorough exam of each man.

 

            When he was done, the white haired doctor held out his hand for the forms Dixie gave him.

 

            "I don't normally make a habit of signing out other doctors' patients," he said softly as he signed.  "Your ENT," he told Roy, "and your Ortho," he said to Chet, "aren't going to be very happy with me."  He glanced up and smiled warmly.  "But I understand the circumstances are unusual, and you were both going to be released in the morning anyway."

 

            "Hey, thanks, Doc," Chet said for both of them.

 

            Joe put on his best stern face.  "But you both be sure and schedule follow ups with your doctors.  And, Roy, I don't think I have to tell you to rest your throat."

 

            Roy shook his head, then reached out to shake the doctor's hand.  With that Joe took his leave.  Dixie followed after him, but paused at the doorway.

 

            "Let us know what's going on," she said in a tone that Roy knew was an order.

 

            As soon as the door closed, Chet was up off the bed,  a pair of keys dangling from his hand.  As Roy opened his mouth to ask, the Irishman beckoned him on.

 

            "C'mon.  I'll tell ya on the way."

 

            He followed without a word, his curiosity about whose car Chet had borrowed minor next to his urgent need to leave the hospital.

 

            As they walked outside, the chilly evening breeze hit them, and Roy shivered as he rubbed at his arms to try and warm himself up.  Wearing only a thin t-shirt, Chet had to be feeling the cold worse than Roy, but the fireman never said anything as he headed toward the distant staff parking lot.

 

            When they reached the lot, Chet looked around for a moment, counting rows with his finger.

 

            "What are we looking for?" Roy asked in a raspy voice.

 

            "A blue Ford Galaxie," Chet told him.  "1970."  He raised up on his toes to see better and then smiled.  "Over there," he pointed.

 

            They wound their way through the crowded lot until they finally stopped at the car Chet had picked out.  As Kelly unlocked the driver's side door, Roy finally couldn't hold back the question.

 

            "Okay, whose is it?"

 

            Even in the dim light, Roy could swear Chet's eyes were gleaming with delight.  "Remember that nurse Gage has been talking about... Judy Tanner?"

 

            Roy thought for a moment.  Johnny talked about a lot of nurses, and Roy had to admit he tuned out most of his partner's ramblings.  He shrugged his uncertainty.  "Uh... I'm not sure I know..."

 

            "No biggie," Chet interrupted smoothly.  "I just promised her that Gage would take her out is all."

 

            Roy studied his companion suspiciously.  Nothing that happened between Chet and Johnny was ever that simple.  "And for that she let you borrow her car?"

 

            "Sure," Chet answered.  "She was happy to do it.  She's wanted to go out with him for a long time."  He handed the keys to Roy.  "You better drive.  You've got more hands than me."  The Irishman moved around to the other side.

 

            Roy climbed behind the wheel and as he watched Kelly slide into the passenger seat, it suddenly clicked who Judy Tanner was and why her name was familiar.  Johnny had talked about her - about how much he didn't want to go out with her.  The many long and loud harangues that Roy had done his best to ignore all came back.  How annoying the girl was.  How nosy she was.  How persistently she chased after any single man - and Roy knew that meant John Gage -  who came into the hospital.  How the last thing in the world Johnny wanted was to ever go out with this girl.

 

            And Roy knew something else.  Roy knew Chet knew that.

 

            "Chet..."

 

            "Hey, we needed a car and I got us a car."  Kelly held his hand to his chest in a demonstration of sincerity, but the smile that peeked out from under his thick moustache belied any such sentiment.  "Don't worry.  Gage would help you out if he were here, right?  Just think of it as proxy gesture."

 

            Roy shook his head, but found himself chuckling at Chet's logic.  He put the car in gear and headed out of the parking lot.

 

            "Somehow I don't think Johnny's gonna see it quite that same way."

 

            Chet's smile grew broader.  "I know."

 

* * *

 

            Will paced restlessly in front of the phone.  It was due to ring again any time, if the cops kept to the pattern they'd fallen into.  Every twenty minutes they called and tried to get him to release the hostages.  Their tactics never varied.  They would ask him what he wanted, listen for a few minutes, then appeal to his humanity to at least let the children go.

 

            He clenched his teeth in anger and frustration.  It was all so simple.  Why couldn't they figure it out?  All they had to do was to bring him Russell and Katie.  That was all he wanted.  That was all he'd ever wanted.  If they brought his children to him, then he would have no reason to keep the others here.  What was the point of asking him over and over what he wanted, and then refuse to give it to him?

 

            He glanced over at the group huddled together near the sink.  The kids were sprawled over each other and looked like they were asleep, but the three adults were still awake and watching him.  The women mostly seemed scared, but the man's face looked pretty roughed up.  Will didn't think he'd hit him that hard, but he'd been angry and frustrated and it had just happened.  His mouth twisted as he wrestled with remorse for that, then his expression steeled as he decided it wasn't his fault the guy had mouthed off.  He'd been a trouble maker from the beginning.

 

            Right now he was still holding onto the injured little girl.  Will frowned at how pale she looked.  Maybe the guy was right and he should let her go.  Maybe then the cops would be more willing to listen to him.  His mouth twisted as he tried to decide what to do.  He just wasn't sure.  If he could only be sure.

 

            Will's gaze shifted to the dark haired woman with the little blond girl in her lap.  If he tried hard enough, he could almost tell himself it was Darlene sitting there with Katie in her lap.  Maybe a few years ago, when his daughter was younger and life was better.  But, even in his fantasy, there was still a baby faced punk sitting beside her, taking her attentions away from where they belonged, with him.  His face took on a dark scowl.

 

            Damn you, Darlene.  Look what you did.  Look what you started.  All I wanted was to see them.  Why'd you take them away from me?  Why did you leave me?  Why did you throw it all away?  Why did you do that to me?

 

            His hands clenched a little tighter on the rifle as the young medic shifted the child in his arm.  His arms must be getting tired by now.  He'd been holding her for hours.  But, even though he looked uncomfortable, he still didn't lay the girl down.

 

            Will's scowl deepened.  Maybe that smart mouthed kid didn't know what the hell he was talking about.  The girl didn't look good at all.  Maybe she was hurt more than this punk knew.  If something happened to her, then Will's cause was as good as lost.  The cops would never give him his kids if they thought he'd hurt this kid on purpose.

 

            God, what if she dies?  What do I do then?  I didn't mean to hurt her.  I just wanted to get somebody's attention.  If that paramedic fucked up and let her die...

 

            Will ran a nervous hand through his hair.  He had to do something.  Something had to happen soon.  And then he nearly jumped out of his skin as the phone rang.  Taking a moment to try and calm himself, he checked his watch.  Twenty minutes.  Regular as clockwork.  He took a deep, steadying breath, then reached out a shaky hand to pick up the receiver.

 

* * *

 

            The drive to Jefferson Elementary School took about twenty minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to Roy as he made his way through the evening traffic.  When they first started out, Chet had kept up a light hearted monologue, which Roy knew was meant to keep him from worrying.  But as they neared their destination, even Kelly's gift for gab failed him, and they drove the last few miles in silence.

 

            Close to the school Roy slowed down.  Bright lights flashed from the squad cars and emergency vehicles that filled the parking lot, and they passed news vans parked along both sides of the narrow street until they reached a blocked off section of road where a sheriff's deputy waved them to stop.  Roy's fingers drummed anxiously on the steering wheel as the officer approached his window.  He only hoped his voice would work.

 

            "Think he's gonna let us pass?" Chet murmured.

 

            Roy shrugged, then squinted up into the flashlight that was shining in his face.

 

            "You need to move along," the man informed them curtly.

 

            Roy opened his mouth, but only a small croaking sound emerged.  He swallowed painfully, meaning to try again, but before he got the chance, Chet leaned over from the passenger seat.

 

            "We're L.A. County firemen.  We thought you might be able to use some help here."

 

            The flashlight moved off their faces and did a quick pass over their clothes, before it returned to shine in their eyes.  Roy knew they certainly didn't look very official.

 

            "I think we've got all the help we need," the deputy told them in a patronizing tone.  It was obvious he thought they were just rubber neckers out to join the party.  "Why don't you fellows go on home."

 

            "It's... it's not what you think," Roy managed to rasp get out.  "My family..."  He swallowed hard.  "My family may be in there."

 

            The deputy peered in closer, his mouth drawn into a tight line.  "All the families have been contacted," he told them sternly.  "Now why don't you just turn around..."

 

            Roy shook his head.  "You don't... you don't understand."  He wished he could talk with more force so that he could convince this man he was serious.

 

            "No, I don't think you understand," the officer replied acerbically.  "I'm asking you to turn this car around right now..."

 

            "You got a problem, Mitch?"

 

            The officer never took his gaze off Roy and Chet as he answered the second deputy walking up beside him.

 

            "Just a couple of guys who want to help.  They're going home, though.  Right, boys?"

 

            "Just listen to me a minute, would ya?" Roy persisted, knowing he was pushing the policemen past the point he should, but not willing to give up.

 

            A second flashlight in his face caused him to bring his hand up to shield his eyes, just as he heard the second officer speak his name.

 

            "Roy?  Is that you?"

 

            "Vince?"  Thank God.

 

            The light left his face and he heard the car door open.  "Yeah, man.  Come on with me.  Hey, Mitch, I'll take 'em with me.  Get somebody to park their car, will ya."

 

            "Sure, Vince, if you say so."

 

            The man backed off and allowed Roy to climb out of the borrowed car.  From the other side, the paramedic heard Chet's door slam, and both firemen followed the tall, black deputy away from the street, closer to the school.  When they reached the parking lot, away from the media and other curious onlookers, Vince stopped and turned.

 

            "I'm glad somebody finally got a hold of you, Roy.  We've been trying to locate you most of the night."

 

            Roy's heartbeat suddenly increased at Vince's words.  He had to swallow before he could talk, and not just because of his sore throat.

 

            "Uh... nobody called me, Vince.  I... I saw the news and couldn't find Joanne."  He reached out and took hold of the deputy's arm.  The words were hard to say out loud, but he had to know for sure.  "Vince... is... is Chris..."

 

            The officer's rugged face was filled with compassion as he nodded.  "I'm afraid so, Roy.  They're all in there."

 

            The knot that was twisting Roy's gut made everything hard to process, but he lifted his head as he registered exactly what Vince had said.

 

            "All of them?  What... what does that mean?"

 

            The man gave Roy's arm a sympathetic squeeze.  "I know it's tough.  Evidently your wife was here to pick up your son.  They were still in the classroom."

 

            "Joanne and Jennifer too?"  He knew his voice was barely a whisper, but Vince heard him and nodded sadly.

 

            Roy felt like his whole world was spinning out of control.  It was bad enough to think that Christopher might be one of the kids being held hostage.  But he'd been going on the assumption that Joanne was here at the school, waiting for word with the other parents.  He'd been planning on joining her here, to give her the support she would desperately need.  But that wasn't going to happen.

 

            He stood open mouthed, unable to even form any words, while he tried to grasp what was going on.  He was vaguely aware of Chet standing silently beside him.  Vince gave his arm another supportive squeeze.

 

            "I'm sorry you had to hear it this way, Roy," he apologized.  "I just assumed you knew.  We got a list from the gunman with all the names on it.  He's got a teacher and five other kids besides yours... and Joanne and Johnny."

 

            He never even reacted.  He had suddenly become an outside observer, watching other people.  He saw Chet's head jerk up, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.

 

            "Gage is in there, too?"

 

            Vince's head nodded once more.  "You didn't know that either?"

 

            He was looking at Roy but the paramedic didn't respond.  Too much was happening too fast.  It was Chet who answered with a shake of his head.

 

            "No, we didn't know anything 'til we got here.  What the hell is Gage doing here?"

 

            Vince shrugged.  "We're not sure.  We ran all the plates in the parking lot... wanted to see if we could I.D. the perp.  Gage's car is here, but your wife's isn't, Roy.  We figured he drove her here."

 

            Roy felt himself nodding almost involuntarily, as the chores he'd put off because of his tonsillectomy flashed through his mind.

 

            "I... I was gonna tune it up."  He blinked and pulled himself up a little straighter as life seemed to resume its normal speed.  "The station wagon needed a tune up," he repeated.  "Maybe it wouldn't start."  He frowned to himself.  It wouldn't be like Joanne to call Johnny for a favor.  He knew his wife wasn't overly fond of his partner.  She would have tried any of the neighbors or her sister, but not Johnny.

 

            "Well, however it happened, they're all in there," Vince stated.  He motioned to the office. "We've got a waiting room set up for the families.  There's some coffee..."  He paused, waiting for Roy to make the next move.

 

            Feeling totally out of control, Roy didn't know what else to do.  He felt Chet tug on his arm and he allowed himself to be led into the small office and then past it into the teacher's lounge.  Vince disappeared somewhere along the way, apparently satisfied that Roy was in good hands.

 

            The paramedic stopped at the doorway, taking in the sight of the group of parents and siblings sitting around a few small tables.  The fear and anxiety on their faces was obvious, and Roy realized they'd probably been waiting here for hours.  He also realized that he didn't want to be a part of their group.  He couldn't just sit here and wait for the tragedy to play out.

 

            He backed out of the doorway, then turned and retraced his steps to the office, wondering if any of the officers milling around would try and stop him from leaving.

 

            "Roy?  Hey, Roy, wait up."

 

            He stopped at the front desk as Chet came up beside him.  Kelly didn't ask him any questions, but after a few moments he nudged Roy slightly to get his attention.

 

            "I saw a couple of engine companies out there... couldn't tell who.  Probably some squads too.  Why don't we go hook up with them?  Maybe there's something we can do there."

 

            Roy let out a deep breath.  There would be comfort in the familiar.  Even if all he did was wait out there, it would be better than in this tiny room full of fear.  He nodded once and followed Chet out the door.

 

* * *

 

            The February night had grown cold, with a chill wind gusting through the trees.  There was a storm due in tomorrow.  At least that's what the weatherman had said earlier in the day.  Standing in front of Engine 51, Hank Stanley pulled his turnout coat a little tighter and hoped the rain held off like it was supposed to.  The last thing they needed tonight was to be cold and wet.

 

            He'd come in a few hours ago to fill in for Hookrader, who'd gotten an emergency call and had to go to Phoenix to be with his sick mother.  Hank knew the men on C shift fairly well.  Since being assigned to Station 51's A shift last summer, he'd worked the odd shift with most of these guys at one time or another, though he never felt as comfortable as when he was with his own crew.

 

            Chavez, the veteran engineer was sitting behind the wheel of the open cab Crown, hunched inside his coat.  His two firefighters were talking quietly near the back of the rig.  Whitney, a rookie was hopping from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm, while Graves stood with the calm stoicism only years on the job could bring.  The two paramedics, Charlie Dwyer and Fred Carlson, were a few feet away, leaning against the squad.  Though they appeared casual, Hank knew they were keyed up.  Their medical services were the most likely to be needed tonight, and with children involved in a dangerous situation, the men were understandably tense.  The captain just hoped their stand-by status wouldn't have to be changed.

 

            "Hey, Cap?"

 

            Hank glanced up at Chavez.  The engineer inclined his head toward the lawn.  "Somebody's heading this way."

 

            The captain could now see for himself the two figures walking through the damp grass.  They certainly didn't look like anyone official.  They weren't dressed in uniform.  In fact, they weren't dressed for a cold night at all.  Neither were wearing coats or jackets and one looked like all he had on was a white t-shirt.

 

            Hank's eyes squinted for a moment, then opened wide in surprise.  Of all the people who might possibly have shown up tonight, these were the last two he'd have ever expected.

 

            "What are you guys doing here?" he asked as they approached the engine.  "I thought you were still in the hospital."

 

            "Relax, Cap," Kelly answered through chattering teeth.  "We're not AWOL, I promise.  Dr. Early released us."

 

            "Of his own free will?" Hank snorted, then waved to Dwyer.  "Charlie, get a blanket or something for Kelly before his teeth rattle out of his head."  He glanced at Roy, who wasn't a lot better off in his thin shirt, and added, "Better bring one for DeSoto, too.  Don't you twits know enough to at least put on a coat?"

 

            While his men were getting wrapped up and least a little warmer, Hank regarded them critically.  Just the fact that they were here meant something was going on, but it was more than just their unexpected presence that had Hank waiting for bad news.  Kelly was unusually quiet and Roy looked positively grim.  Before the captain had a chance to say anything, however, Dwyer opened his mouth.

 

            "So what're you two guys doin' down here?" the tall, blond paramedic ribbed with a laugh.  "Ya get lost or somethin'?"

 

            "Can it, Dwyer," Chet shot back.

 

            Hank caught the note of concern in Kelly's voice that spoke of something serious, but the men from C shift obviously hadn't.  Not that they could be blamed for that.  Chet was so often the joker, anyone who didn't spend a lot of time with him wouldn't have picked up the subtle clues.

 

            "Whatsa matter?" Graves ribbed.  "Roy here looks like he lost his best friend."

 

            Even in the dim light, Hank could see Roy blanch at that comment.  Kelly actually took a step forward, his expression menacing.

 

            "Hold it, hold, it."  The captain quickly stepped between the two men to stave off a confrontation.  He motioned for Graves to back off a bit, then turned to Chet and Roy.  "You two wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"

 

            He saw Kelly cast a quick glance at DeSoto, almost as if waiting for some sign from Roy, then he turned back to his captain.

 

            "You guys know who's in there, Cap?" he asked.

 

            Hank shrugged.  "They haven't told us much.  Just that some kook with a gun is holding a bunch of kids in a classroom.  We've been here for a couple of hours waiting around in case they need us."  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  "36 is across the street."

 

            "So you haven't seen the list of names they got."

 

            Hank shook his head slowly, wondering what difference that made, then his gaze moved to DeSoto.  Roy lifted his head and their eyes met briefly.  It was enough.

 

            Firemen got into some pretty hairy situations in the line of duty.  For the last eight months Roy DeSoto had been one of the men who at times literally followed Hank into hell.  The captain had seen many emotions on the paramedic's face, but he couldn't remember ever seeing the kind of fear that was there now.  It was enough to start the wheels turning.  Hank knew Roy didn't live far from here and that Roy had a school aged son.  The implication hit his stomach like a lead weight.

 

            "Is your boy inside?"

 

            Roy's eyes closed briefly and he gave his head a quick nod.

 

            "Damn it, Roy, I'm sorry.  I had no idea Chris might be involved in this."

 

            "Not just Chris, Cap," Kelly added softly, with a sympathetic glance at the disconcerted paramedic.  "Joanne and Jennifer are in there too."

 

            The weight in Hank's gut abruptly doubled in size, and he felt his shoulders sag.  "Oh, Christ.  Are you sure?"

 

            Roy nodded again; a quick, silent gesture.

 

            "Their names are on the list, Cap," Chet answered.

 

            Hank glanced over at Kelly.  The Irishman's face was apprehensive, like he was still waiting to drop the other shoe, yet the captain couldn't imagine anything worse than what he'd just been told.  The men from C Shift had gathered in a loose ring around their substitute captain and his men, ready to offer whatever support they could.  Hank could see their expectant faces on the edges of his vision, but for now, his attention was focused solely on the two men in front of him.

 

            "Anything else I should know, Kelly?" he asked, not sure he wanted to hear anything more.

 

            "Uh, yeah, Cap, I guess there is."

 

            Hank could have sworn Chet was squirming, as if he hated being the bearer of all the bad news.

 

            "Johnny's in there too."

 

            Hank was aware of two things.  The rippled murmur from the other fireman, understandable since one of their own was now in harm's way.  And the fact that Chet had actually called Gage "Johnny."  That spoke volumes as to just how worried the firefighter was.

 

            Any questions Hank had about how his off duty paramedic had ended up in the middle of a grade school hostage situation could wait.  Right now Roy looked shell shocked and Kelly wasn't much better.  The captain gave Chet an encouraging pat on his good arm, then reached over to rest his hand on Roy's shoulder.

 

            "They'll be okay," he said with all the optimism he could muster.  "The police have been talking to the guy.  They'll get them out."  He knew his words probably didn't help much, but they were all he had at the moment.  "They've got a lounge set up for the families," he continued, hoping that maybe he could at least get Roy someplace more comfortable to wait, but DeSoto shook his head and spoke for he first time since they'd arrived.

 

            "I can't stay there, Cap.  It's... it's too... I just can't."

 

            Hank winced inwardly at the scratchy sound that came out of Roy's mouth, and he suddenly remembered why the paramedic had been in the hospital in the first place and realized why Chet had been doing all the talking.

 

            "Okay, pal."  He squeezed Roy's shoulder.  "You can stick around with us.  But why don't you two at least sit in the squad.  I don't want you both to end up back at Rampart with pneumonia."

 

            He smiled in an attempt to lighten their moods, but knew it was a weak attempt at best.  Chet's moustache lifted a little in acknowledgment, but Roy merely nodded and moved over to the squad, C Shift's mumbled words of sympathy and encouragement falling on deaf ears.  After a brief moment, Chet shuffled after him.

 

            Hank blew out a long breath, wondering how the night could get any worse, but knowing  in his heart that it certainly could.  All too easily.

 

* * *

 

            Johnny's arms were aching.  Kellie couldn't have weighed more than fifty pounds, but the paramedic had been holding her for hours and was afraid to change her position for fear that their captor would come over and check on her.  Aside from his weary arms, the side of the Johnny's face had started throbbing some time back.  His right eye felt swollen, his jaw hurt when he moved it, and he wondered if the rifle butt had actually fractured his cheekbone.  He was going to need a trip to Rampart when this was all over, that was for certain.  His lower legs were nearly asleep from sitting on the linoleum floor for so long, but when he tried to quietly move them, he was reminded of another need that was growing painful.  He hadn't been able to use the bathroom since lunchtime.  Sooner or later, he was going to have to put this poor little girl down.

 

            The large, white faced clock on the wall said it was 8:20.  They'd been here over seven hours.

 

            What are the cops doing out there?  They can't just sit around and leave these kids in here with this lunatic.  They have to be working on some kind of plan.

 

            He glanced over at Joanne.  She was awake, her head leaned back wearily against the wall.  Jenny was still asleep in her mother's lap.  Chris had fallen asleep as well, leaning against Joanne, her arm wrapped around him.  On Joanne's other side, another little boy, the one Johnny had seen hiding under the desk with her, was laying with his head pillowed on her leg.  The other kids were all pretty much in the same drowsy state, using each other or their teacher for pillows.  As Johnny's gaze moved to Miss Perry, he noticed how young and frightened she looked, even though she was trying to be brave for her students.  He'd seen her casting worried looks at the child in his arms, and while he didn't think she'd realized yet that Kellie was gone, the fear on her face told him she was aware things were worse than Johnny had told Will.

 

            The paramedic shifted his gaze toward their captor and was startled to see the man was staring at him - or rather at the limp body in his arms, and his breath caught in his throat as Will straightened up and started walking closer.  The last thing Johnny wanted was for this walking time bomb to get a close look at the dead child.  As the man approached, his rifle gripped firmly in his hands, Johnny tightened his hold on the little girl.

 

            Will stopped a few feet in front of his hostages, his eyes narrow and unreadable as he regarded them intently.  When the gunman's gaze stopped and held on him, Johnny held his breath, waiting for what might happen.

 

            The moment seemed to last an eternity, but suddenly Will gestured at Kellie's still form with the barrel of his rifle.

 

            "She doesn't look very good."

 

            Johnny took a split second to weigh his reply.  The wrong answer and everything could go to hell.

 

            "I already told you she needed a doctor," he answered, trying to keep his tone neutral, but still manage to convey the necessity of getting Kellie out of the classroom.

 

            Will's eyes slitted even further and Johnny could tell the man was thinking furiously.

 

            "But she'll be okay... once the docs get to her?"

 

            He's worried.  He wants to be sure.  He's gotta think she'll be all right.

 

            Johnny nodded slowly, then took a chance to press the guy.  "But you shouldn't wait too much longer."

 

            Will's hands clutched a little tighter on the gun.

 

            Shit!  Did I push him too far?  God, don't let him lose it.

 

            "All right.  Get up."

 

            He wasn't sure he heard the man right, and didn't move.

 

            "I said get up!" Will snapped.  "Are you deaf?  Get up and bring her to the door."

 

            Johnny wasn't sure he could get up after sitting for so long.  He shifted to get his feet under him, then staggered up awkwardly, somehow managing to keep his hold on Kellie, while he battled the pins and needles that shot sharply down his legs.  As he stood there, trying to shake some feeling back into his feet, he made sure he kept the little girl's face turned away from the gunman.

 

            "Come on, come on.  Over to the door."

 

            Johnny walked carefully across the classroom, all too aware of the rifle pointed in his direction.  When he got a few feet from the door, Will ordered him to stop.

 

            "Just wait there a minute," the man barked at him, then reached to pick up the phone with one hand.

 

            The conversation was brief.  Will didn't give the police a chance to say much.  Just a terse, "I'm sending her out," and then he hung up.  He stood a moment, his eyes on Johnny.  Even though it was cool in the room, the paramedic could feel sweat on his back as he waited; hoping the man wouldn't change his mind.

 

            When Will finally did move, he headed away from the door.  Three large strides took him to the huddled group in the corner and he grabbed the nearest child, a little girl with big, dark eyes and  a long black braid down her back.  Will yanked her to her feet by the arm and pulled her to his side.  Johnny took an instinctive step forward, then stopped, realizing there was nothing he could do at the moment.

 

            "Miss Perry!" the terrified child cried, her free arm reaching for her teacher.

 

            "Alicia!"

 

            All the kids woke at the new threat and the air was filled with frightened crying.  The teacher rose to her feet, her hands out in an appeal to the gunman to return the little girl.  "Please... don't hurt her."

 

            "Shut up!  All of you!"  Will let his rifle move across the group to add emphasis to his orders.  Joanne had gathered the children close and they quieted some, but Alicia was still crying softly.  "Relax, lady," Will told the teacher.  "I'm not going to hurt her.  She's just insurance... so Mr. Paramedic here," he jerked his head in Johnny's direction, "will only do what he's told."

 

            Johnny watched as Miss Perry stood undecided for a moment, then slowly sat back down.  As she settled on the floor, Joanne reached out and lay a supportive hand on the young woman's shoulder.  The teacher flashed a grateful look, then turned back to her frightened student.

 

            "It's all right, Alicia," she assured the little girl with a weak smile.  "Just be a good girl and you'll be fine."  The child sniffed and nodded once, though her lower lip was still trembling.

 

            "Okay, okay," Will announced impatiently.  "Now that the dramatics are all over."  He turned to Johnny and jerked his head towards the door.  "It's very simple.  You take her out.  Hand her over, and then you come back here.  No tricks, no funny business."  He pulled Alicia closer  to add weight to his words.  "Got it?"

 

            "I got it," Johnny assured him, then somehow managed to give Alicia a wink with his puffy eye.  "Don't worry, sweetie," he told her softly and was rewarded when she responded with a timid smile.

 

            "Come on... get going."

 

            Will dragged Alicia over, reached out and unlocked the door, then took a step away from the entrance.  He gestured Johnny to start moving.

 

            "No tricks," he repeated darkly.

 

            "No tricks," Johnny promised.  He eyes darted quickly over the huddled group in the corner, Chris and Jenny and Joanne - all watching him with expectant faces.  Once more to Alicia, her big brown eyes still watery and frightened.  Then down to Kellie - pale and past all feeling, but somehow still depending on him to pull this off.

 

            He took a deep breath and walked out the door.

 

* * *

 

            Roy sat behind the wheel of the squad.  It was a familiar place, yet it offered no comfort.  The blanket around his shoulders provided some protection from the cold, still he felt numb.  He was aware of Chet sitting beside him, shifting again in an effort to find a more comfortable position for his shoulder, of the men from C shift standing outside, waiting - hardly moving at all as the brisk wind whipped their hair and tugged at their coats, making for a surreal tableau under the dim playground lights.

 

            The paramedic had lost all track of time.  It could have been merely a few minutes since he and Kelly had arrived at the school; or it could have been eternity.  It felt like the latter, as he and Chet sat, silent companions.  Roy was grateful that the man beside him didn't feel compelled to offer up useless platitudes.  It was enough that he was there, his support offered merely in his presence.

 

            "Roy?  Hey, Roy?"

 

            Chet's insistent voice penetrated his thoughts and he turned slowly, as if waking up.  The Irishman was leaning forward, pointing out the windshield.

 

            "Something's up, man."

 

            Roy squinted, but had to use his shirt sleeve to wipe the glass that had fogged up from their body heat.  What he saw made him throw back the blanket, open the door and climb out.

 

            Cap had moved forward, standing in front of the engine.  Two uniformed policemen and a man in a suit were talking animatedly.  Hank was listening intently, his arm waving Dwyer and Carlson over.  Chet was right.  Something was definitely going on, and Roy intended to be a part of it.  He fell in beside the two C shift paramedics.  If either man wondered at his presence, they didn't mention it.

 

            Cap raised his eyebrows when he saw Roy, but he didn't comment.  He merely directed their attention to the officers.

 

            "They're bringing out one of the kids.  A little girl who appears to have been shot.  Lieutenant Briggs here says one of you goes and gets her.  No heroics.  Just bring her back to the squad so you can treat her."

 

            "Do we know how badly she's hurt?" Dwyer asked.

 

            The man in the suit shook his head.  Roy assumed he must be Briggs.  "All we know is she's been shot.  But it's a big concession that he's even letting her out, so we're running with that."  He gave the paramedics a once over, not even sparing Roy a glance.  "Which one of you is our man?"

 

            Roy stepped forward before Dwyer or Carlson could make a move.

 

            "Me," he stated as firmly as his irritated voice would allow.  "I'm going."

 

            Cap's eyebrows raised a bit, but before he could veto Roy's offer, the lieutenant spoke up.

 

            "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

 

            Roy opened his mouth to explain, but Cap spared him the effort.  He stepped beside Roy in a supportive gesture.

 

            "This is Roy DeSoto.  He's one of my paramedics."

 

            The man looked unconvinced.  "He's not even in uniform.  What's he doing here?" 

 

            "He's... uh, off duty.  But he's qualified.  If he wants to make the exchange..."

 

            "DeSoto?"  The policeman's face lit up with recognition.  "That the name of some of the hostages.  He fixed Roy with an accusing glare.  "Your family?"

 

            Roy nodded, but held his ground.  "My wife and kids."

 

            "Oh, no.  No, we don't," the lieutenant declared.  "I'm not letting a loose cannon into this situation."

 

            "Lieutenant..." Cap began, but the police officer cut him off.

 

            "Forget it.  The last thing we need is him doing something stupid and setting this guy off."

 

            "You think I'm... I'm  going to do anything dumb, when... when my whole family is in there?"  Roy's voice gave out after that much abuse.  He swallowed roughly, barely keeping from wincing at the pain in his throat.  He couldn't talk anymore, but it didn't matter.  He would never be able to explain to this man that he had to do this.  He had to do something.  He couldn't just sit around when there was at last something he was able to do - even if it was only to care for someone else's injured child.

 

            "I don't mean to sound harsh, DeSoto, but in all reality, you should be sitting in the office with the rest of the families.  Not out here trying to be a hero."

 

            Roy shook his head stubbornly.  The officer's mouth set in a grim line.

 

            "I don't have time for this."  He turned to Hank.  "Captain?  It's your call.  He's your man."

 

            Cap never even missed a beat.  "He's going.  Dwyer, give him your coat."

 

            The lieutenant threw up his hands and shook his head, then gestured to one of his men.  "Bring me the vest."  He took the heavy garment and held it out for Roy to put on.  "This is about all I can do to protect you.  He sees one of us and that's it."

 

            Roy nodded soberly, slipped the vest on, then took the turnout coat Dwyer handed him.  It was pretty bulky when everything was done and buttoned up, but Roy didn't give it a second thought.

 

            "Okay, he'll be coming out the first door.  Room 3."

 

            Roy nodded again.  He knew the way to Chris' room.  He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Cap standing there, Chet, Dwyer and Carlson beside him.

 

            "Be careful," was all Hank said, but the pressure on Roy's shoulder increased slightly.

 

            "I will, Cap," Roy croaked and moved toward the building.

 

* * *

 

            Johnny stepped out the door, and nearly took a step back at the blast of cold wind that hit his face.  He glanced down and tried to tug his jacket tighter around Kellie.  His brain told him she was past feeling anything, but he couldn't stop himself.

 

            I'm gettin' you out of here, sweetheart, he promised her silently.  Nobody will hurt you anymore.

 

            He kept walking slowly, always aware that Will was in the room behind him with the gun at Alicia's head.  He knew if he did one thing wrong - if he made one stupid move - another little girl would be dead.  He couldn't let that happen.

 

            There were no lights on the playground, but the illumination from the eaves of the corridor overhang, cast a dimly glowing half circle on the blacktop.  Past that, Johnny could see the banks of flashing red and blue lights that told of emergency vehicles parked farther away, out of direct sight of the classroom.  He didn't know if their presence was comforting or not.  They were here, but there seemed little they could do to help.

 

            Suddenly, out of the darkness, a figure appeared in that circle of light.  Johnny squinted to see better and recognized the turnout coat of a firefighter.  He wondered briefly if they had sent a real paramedic, or if the cops were playing games and had put one of their own in the coat.  It had to be someone he could get through to quickly - to make them understand and play along.  He wasn't going to have much time.  Will had told him to hand her over and come right back.  Johnny wasn't going to be able to stand around and explain anything.  And the last thing he wanted was some cop reacting when he was handed a dead child.

 

            Johnny walked to the edge of the building and stopped.  This was as far as the gunman had told him to go.  "Let him come to you," had been his last instructions.  As he stood there and watched the fireman approach, his eyes went wide with recognition, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

 

            Roy!  Thank God, it's you.

 

            But just as quickly his thoughts turned in another direction.  If his partner was here and not in the hospital where he belonged, then he obviously knew his family was inside the classroom.  Though the Roy DeSoto Johnny had come to know over the last year was normally calm and easy going, Johnny knew the man could be as passionately emotional as anyone when he felt strongly about something.  And there was nothing Roy felt more strongly about than his wife and kids.

 

            Don't do anything dumb, Roy, be smart... be smart.

 

* * *

 

            The closer Roy got to the row of classrooms, the harder he had to work at keeping his breathing slow and steady.  His fear for his family had become a living thing, gnawing at his stomach and keeping a tight clench on his heart.  He had to stay in control.  He couldn't do anything that might get someone hurt or even killed.

 

            Just get the girl and come back.  Those had been Lieutenant Briggs' last words to him.  But the thought of being this close to Joanne and the kids and then turning around and walking away - he didn't know if, in the end, he would be able to do that.

 

            As he neared the hallway, he caught sight of a lone figure standing at the edge of the building, a small child in his arms.  The paramedic didn't have to be any closer to know it was Johnny standing there, and he felt a warm rush of hope stirring amidst the icy despair.  His family wasn't alone.  Johnny was with them.  Johnny would keep them safe.

 

            And then he saw his partner's face, and the black eye and bloody bruises rocked him with the reality of the situation.  This was truly happening.  His wife, his kids and his best friend were all at the mercy of a mad man.  His knees felt weak and he didn't know how he stayed on his feet, but he managed to keep walking until he was only an arm's reach away from where Johnny had stopped.

 

            Somehow, the paramedic in him pushed to the front of his consciousness, and he glanced down at the limp form in his partner's arm.  She was wrapped in a dark jacket that was too big for her.  There was nothing he could see that was wrong with her, but something was wrong.  Something in the protective way Johnny held her, in the way her head lolled against his chest, and her face.  The light was poor, but Roy had seen enough death in his profession, that he knew instantly.  This little girl was dead.

 

            His thoughts whirled in confusion.  Why would the gunman send out a dead child?  What did he think he would gain?  What could this possibly do except enrage the police?

 

            But he didn't have time to ponder it.  Johnny stepped forward and handed his burden over to Roy.  There was something in Johnny's demeanor, something in the tender way he lay the lifeless child in his partner's arms, something that sent a chill down Roy's spine.

 

            He met Johnny's eyes as the younger man took a step back.  There was an intensity there that was completely out of place with the normally carefree man Roy had come to call friend.  He could see Johnny shivering from the cold, his thin shirt not offering much protection from the wind, and Roy glanced down again at Kellie, bundled up protectively in Johnny's jacket.

 

            "Johnny..."

 

            "Her name's Kellie," Johnny whispered tersely.  "Take care of her.  She needs to go to the hospital... now!"  The younger man's voice sounded thick, as if it pained him to talk, and judging from the paramedic's battered face, Roy could understand why.

 

            "But..."

 

            Johnny kept walking slowly backwards."She needs to get outta here, Roy," he persisted, but when Roy opened his mouth to ask him to explain, Johnny just shook his head.  "I have to go back.  Just take care of her."  He shot a glance over his shoulder.  "Go now, Roy."

 

            Roy took a few tentative steps backwards, then turned and walked away.  One last look back and he saw the classroom door open and a hand pull Johnny roughly inside.  Roy swallowed drily and stared down at the child in his arms, trying to fit the pieces together.

 

            Why would he give up a dead girl?  Johnny was so insistent that I get her out of here... he was holding her... holding her like... like what?  Like she was asleep and he didn't want to wake her.  Why would Johnny do that?  He had to know she was gone.  Why....

 

            It clicked suddenly.  The gunman had sent the child out so she could be treated.  He didn't know she was dead.  Somehow Johnny had kept the man from finding out.  Johnny must have felt it was important that their captor not know.

 

            Roy quickened his steps and headed for the squad.  He knew there was an ambulance there waiting.  If they could just get her loaded and on her way to Rampart before the cops asked too many questions.

 

            He saw the group of firemen and the lieutenant waiting there where he'd left them.  He had to be sure the policeman didn't get a close look at the girl.  He knew they couldn't keep it secret for very long, but maybe if the news came out at the hospital instead of right here in the playground - maybe that would buy the hostages some time - buy his family and Johnny some precious time.

 

            Dwyer ran up to meet him, stethoscope around his neck, drug box in hand.

 

            "You wanna assess her here first or..."

 

            "In the ambulance," Roy whispered fiercely, hoping Charlie would just go along with his request.  He never slowed his pace and the C shift paramedic trotted to keep up with him.

 

            Dwyer's eyes regarded the girl as they walked.  Roy allowed himself to meet Charlie's eyes and saw that the other paramedic knew.  His mouth set in a straight line, but he didn't say anything.  Instead, he moved out front and ran interference, waving people away and clearing the path to the ambulance, where Carlson waited for them with the rest of the equipment.

 

            Roy climbed up into the back and lay the child down on the gurney, covering her with a blanket.  Charlie and Carlson had jumped in behind him, blocking any view from outside.

 

            "What's going on?" Dwyer asked in a low voice, with a glance over his shoulder.

 

            "Just get her out of here," Roy pleaded in a rough voice.  "Keep a lid on it as long as you can."

 

            "But, when we get to Rampart...."

 

            "I know," Roy rasped.  "Just do what you can."  With that, he moved back and let the on-duty paramedics take control.  He jumped down and closed the ambulance doors, practically catching Lieutenant Briggs' hand in them.

 

            "What's going on, DeSoto?" he demanded indignantly as the ambulance drove away.  "I wanted to talk to the kid... get her name, tell her family she's safe."

 

            "She needed to get to the hospital," Roy explained hoarsely.  "She was unconscious anyway.  She couldn't have talked to you."

 

            The policeman's eyebrows narrowed.  "Is she bad off?"

 

            Roy shrugged.  "They'll know better at Rampart."  With that, he moved off, hoping the man let it go for now.  Apparently he did, for after a moment, he walked back towards the office.  Roy leaned his arms against the squad and let out a huge breath.  His head suddenly felt heavy and he let it rest against his arms.  He could feel his whole body trembling and knew it wasn't from the cold.

 

            "Roy?  You okay?"

 

            He never lifted his head.  "She's dead, Cap," he whispered raggedly.

 

* * *

 

            Joanne sat motionless, holding Jenny tightly in her lap, having to remind herself to breathe, as she waited anxiously for Johnny to return.  Her daughter was awake, her blue eyes wide and watching.  All the kids were awake now, the tension in the room making them quiescent as they sat huddled close to both of the women with them.  Even Alicia had stopped her fearful whimpering as she stood in the gunman's grasp.  Will was peering through a small crack in the door, his face intent on whatever was going on outside.  He held his rifle ready with one hand, the other arm holding the child close.

 

            The unnatural silence hung heavy in the room, the only sound the soft click of the minute hand on the large clock as it moved from one number to the next.  Beside Joanne, Chris shifted slightly, his body inching even closer to her.  She glanced down into his frightened face and tried to give him an encouraging smile.  She wasn't sure how much she helped.

 

            And then, without warning, the gunman let go of Alicia.  As the child instantly ran back to her teacher, the door opened slightly wider and Will dragged Johnny back into the classroom.  He pulled the paramedic inside by the back of his shirt and shoved him towards the rest of the hostages.  He quickly slammed the door closed again,, dragging the table back across the door to once more block it.

 

            Johnny stumbled a couple of steps, then regained his balance and stood still, his hands at his side.  It was the first time in hours that Joanne had seen him without Kellie in his arms and it seemed wrong to see him without her.  It was only then that Joanne noticed the brown stains on his shirt and on his hands.  She frowned a moment, wondering what had happened outside to make him so dirty, but as he finally began to move in their direction, she realized with a stab of sorrow it wasn't dirt Johnny wore, it was the little girl's blood.

 

            He caught her gaze, and, as if reading her thoughts, his eyes traveled down to stare at his shirt, and then his open hands.  When those dark eyes moved up and met hers again, Joanne saw for just a instant such a depth of pain she wasn't sure how the paramedic was still functioning.  Just as quickly it was gone, buried beneath the need of the moment - the importance of staying in control.  Then Johnny turned and walked into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him.

 

            When he emerged a few minutes later, his hands were clean again.  He'd taken off the stained shirt and was wearing the plain white T-shirt he'd had on underneath it.  There were only some faint brown marks there to serve as a reminder.  Without a word, Johnny walked over and sat down next to Chris.  He let one hand linger on the boy's head a moment before he folded his arms on his upraised knees and his head fell wearily forward to rest there.

 

* * *

 

            Charlie Dwyer sat in the back of the ambulance, the siren filling his ears, and wondered how he'd come to end up in this position.  He was normally a pretty self assured guy.  He knew his job and was good at it.  He'd loved being a rescue man and had welcomed the opportunity to expand that job and had signed up for the second wave of paramedic training classes; the ones started after the assembly bill had passed allowing them to fully function in their jobs.  He'd waited until then, not seeing much point in jumping through all those hoops if he wasn't going to be able to use the extra training.  For while Charlie loved his job, he also was the kind of person who worked best when he knew the exact parameters of that job.  He didn't like to find himself out of his depth - which was exactly where he was now.

 

            He sat on the bench in the back of the ambulance, his eyes moving uncertainly between the dead child and the biophone, not sure what he was expected to do next.

 

            "You're gonna have to call 'em," Carlson prodded in a hushed tone, as if somebody would be able to overhear them.  "We can't just show up."  He'd been singing the same refrain ever since the doors had closed and Charlie had filled him in on what Roy had told him about their patient, and it was growing annoying.

 

            "I know, I know," Charlie acknowledged, his hand waving at his partner, as if swatting at an irritating gnat.  That hand then came to rest on the com unit.  He cast a quick glance out the small windows in the rear doors and could see the squad car that had been following them since they'd left the school.  "Damn it!" he swore softly, then picked the phone up and slowly brought it to his ear.  He waited another long minute, then hit the button.

 

            "Rampart, this is County 51, how do you read?"

 

            There was a slight pause, then the filtered response came back.

 

            "This is Rampart, go ahead 51."

 

            Shit, it's Brackett!  Charlie's eyes met his partner's and Carlson just shrugged.  Thanks a lot, Steve, you're a big help.

 

            "Uh... Rampart... we have a six year old female... uh, gunshot wound to the abdomen..."  He paused, not sure what else to say.

 

            After a moment, Brackett's voice came on the line again, and even over the radio the paramedics could hear his impatience.

 

            "Go ahead with her vitals, 51."

 

            Charlie closed his eyes and wracked his brain for the right thing to say.

 

            "Go ahead, 51, we're standing by."

 

            "Uh... Rampart, we... uh, we're unable to get vitals at this time."  He saw Carlson shake his head and let it fall forward into his hands.

 

            "Repeat, 51?"

 

            Charlie swallowed dryly.  "Uh, vitals are unavailable at this time, Rampart."

 

            "51... is the victim inaccessible?"

 

            Charlie let his eyes move heavenward in a mute appeal for help, then blew out a long breath.  "Uh... Rampart, no... we... uh... we're... we're in the ambulance... en route."

 

            This time the pause on the hospital's end seemed to last an eternity and Charlie could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead.

 

            "51... do I understand you right?  You've got the victim in the ambulance, but you can't give me any vitals?"  The tone in Brackett's voice broadcast his anger loud and clear, even over the radio.

 

            "Uh, that's affirmative, Rampart," Charlie answered crisply, trying to sound like what he was saying wasn't the stupidest thing in the whole world.  "We're... we're in an unusual situation here, Rampart.  We can't give you any more information at this time.  We'll update you upon our arrival.  ETA five minutes."

 

            "51, we'll expect a detailed report when you get here."

 

            "10-4, Rampart."

 

            He let the biophone drop from his fingers.  Well, Charlie, boy, it was nice while it lasted.  I can see it now... Dwyer on the menu, skewered and grilled over open coals.

 

            They sat in silence for a moment, then Carlson spoke up hesitantly.  "The cops are right behind us.  How the hell are we gonna keep them from finding out?"

 

            Charlie ran a hand through his blond hair.  "Just play it fast and furious, I guess.  Rush her into a treatment room and pray Brackett goes along with us."

 

            Carlson shook his head again and leaned back against the seat.  Charlie once more let his eyes rest on the lifeless face on the gurney.  He let go a long sigh.

 

 

Part 3