Foundations

Part 3

            Kelly Brackett stood at the base station, his fingers drumming on the radio.  He wasn't the kind of man who liked surprises.  He ran a tight ship here in Emergency, and he expected the men and women who worked alongside him to follow certain rules and procedures.  Certainly there were times when you had to improvise, but he couldn't think of any reason why two paramedics with a possibly critically injured child should be playing games over the radio.

            "I don't like it, Dix," he groused roughly, his eyes roving the frustratingly blank chart he'd started when he took the call.  "What kind of unusual situation can there be in the back of an ambulance?  They better have a damn good reason..."

            "I'm sure they do, Kel," Dixie replied in a soothing tone.  She had been working on patient charts at her desk and had heard the entire exchange.  "Wait 'til they get here and give them a chance to explain."

            He knew she was right.  Dwyer and Carlson were good paramedics and had both been on the job for over eight months without any problems.  There was probably a completely rational reason for their behavior, but Brackett's mouth twitched in annoyance.  He still didn't have to like it.  It brought back memories of all the doubts that had plagued him before the paramedic program had been given the green light.  He'd been won over to the cause and had been a staunch supporter ever since, but he didn't like being reminded how out of touch he really was with a patient under his authority.

            "Treatment 3 is set up," Dixie informed him, nudging him out of his reverie.

            The doctor gave her a weak smile, his best effort under the circumstances.  Her eyes told him she recognized his concerns, and he was grateful.  Their off duty relationship wasn't always on the smoothest of paths, but here at work they almost always worked together with an ease born of complete understanding of how each other thought and felt.

            "Okay, Dix.  We don't know exactly what we've got coming in, except that it's a gunshot wound.  Have an O.R. on standby in case we need to go in."

            "Right."  She turned to pick up the phone, when he stopped her.

            "We'll probably have distraught parents here, as well as police.  Make sure there's an empty room we can put them in."

            "Sure thing."

            This time Kel did smile at the calm efficiency with which Dixie handled his succession of orders.  Confident that things were in capable hands, he picked up the chart and headed to the ambulance bay, his smile fading as he neared the double doors.

            The big, boxy rig was just backing into the bay, its lights still flashing.  Behind it, where normally the squad would be following, Kel saw a black and white police car.  He frowned at that, wondering what trouble was coming into his E.R.

            The doors to the ambulance opened and suddenly there was a flurry of activity.  Both Dwyer and Carlson jumped down, pulling the gurney out with them, then pushing through the barely opened glass doors.  They rushed down the short entryway, and Brackett found himself trotting to keep up with them.

            "Gunshot wound, Doc," Dwyer reported briskly, "mid abdomen.  No exit wound."

            Kel glanced at the child's pale face, took in the bluish hue of her lips, the pallor of her cheeks, and his frown deepened into a scowl.  He'd seen death enough to know it at first glance.  But one glimpse of Dwyer's grim expression and the apprehension in Carlson's eyes, kept him silent.  These men knew what they had as well as he did.

            "Take her into 3," he ordered.

            He got a swift nod from Dwyer and then the paramedics steered the gurney toward the doors Dixie was holding open for them.  Kel followed behind them, catching a quick glance of Dixie telling someone flashing a badge that they would have to wait outside, before the doors swung closed, shutting the man out.  Dixie started to gather up the supplies they would ordinarily need, but Kel took her by the arm and stopped her.  She looked at him quizzically, then moved her gaze to the exam table.  The way she set the metal tray down told the doctor that she had figured it out.  The paramedics transferred their patient smoothly, then Carlson pushed the gurney out of the way and both men stood back.

            A treatment room during this type of incident would normally be a noisy, busy place, as orders were given and carried out, lab samples collected and X-rays taken, machines would be hooked up and beeping loudly - all kinds of activity meant to save a life.  But there was only a heavy silence in the room now, as four pairs of eyes focused on one little girl that they had all been given too late to  help.

            Kel pulled down the blanket that had covered her and saw she was wrapped in a dark nylon jacket, a man's wind breaker.  He removed it gently and laid it aside.  He could finally see evidence of her injury.  She'd been wearing a blue plaid skirt and a frilly white blouse, which was now covered in the rust of dried blood.

            "There's a hostage situation at a grade school," Dwyer finally spoke up, his voice soft, as if he was afraid of waking the sleeping child.  "Looks like she was shot when he first took over the classroom.  I guess the police finally talked him into letting her go so she could get help."

            Kel shook his head in confusion.  This child appeared to have been dead for several hours at least.  He lifted the now stiff fabric of her shirt and found a makeshift compress, also the dark brown of old blood.  It seemed to have been a towel of some sort, held in place by a well worn western style belt with a silver buckle.

            "Looks like somebody tried to help her," he commented absently, "somebody who knew what they were doing."

            "That was probably Gage," Carlson commented.

            The doctor's eyebrows lifted, and he heard Dixie inhale sharply.  "As in John Gage?" he asked incredulously.

            Both paramedics nodded.  "He's in there with a bunch of kids, their teacher... and Roy DeSoto's wife and kids," Dwyer stated evenly.

            "Oh, my God," Dixie breathed softly.

            Kel felt suddenly like he'd entered a theater in the middle of the movie.  His face must have shown what he was thinking for Charlie lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

            "We don't know the whole story, Doc.  Just that Roy said not to let on that she's dead.  I guess Johnny..."

            "Roy said?" Kel interrupted.  "But Roy's here..."  He stopped when he saw Dixie shaking her head and he realized he was way behind on the turn of events.  He waved Dwyer on.  There would be time to sort it all out later.

            "Well, Johnny brought her out of the classroom and gave her to Roy.  But I guess he didn't think it would be a good idea for the gunman to find out he'd killed a kid, so he told Roy to keep it under wraps for now."

            The room grew silent again as Dwyer finished what he knew of the story.  Kel rubbed his chin absently as he digested the information he'd been given.  He could understand Johnny's logic.  A man on the edge could easily be pushed completely over.  And if the police knew they were dealing with a killer, their tactics might change as well, and apparently Johnny was afraid the gunman would pick up on the difference and do something crazy.

            As if shooting up a class full of little kids wasn't already crazy.

            Kel's hand moved from his chin to rub over his face and he let out a long breath.

            "We'll keep her in here for now.  I can stall the police, but not indefinitely."  He glanced up at the paramedics.  "Do you have an ID on her?"

            Dwyer shook his head ruefully.

            "Well, then until we do, we won't have to deal with family.  I'm afraid once the parents are here, we won't have any more choice.  They'll have to know."

            Dwyer ran a hand through his hair.  "What do you want us to do, Doc?"

            Kel glanced at the closed doors to the treatment room.  If the police were there, chances were good the press would be too.  "You guys probably need to get back to the school.  Don't say anything out there.  Let me handle it."

            Both paramedics looked only too glad to pass that responsibility on to someone else.  "Sure thing, Doc," Dwyer replied as he took one end of the gurney.  "We'll catch a ride back with the ambulance."  He gestured for his partner to take the other end, then both men whisked the empty gurney out the doors, quickly enough that no one from outside was able to come in.

            Kel stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, watched as Dixie moved to the side of the table and ran a hand over the little girl's hair.

            "It's not fair to keep this from her mother and father," she murmured.

            "I know, Dix," Kel answered.  "And we won't once we know who they are.  But in the meantime, if it saves more lives..."  He let his sentence trail off.  There wasn't anything more he could do now except go out and try and placate the police.  He reached over and gave Dixie's arm a gentle squeeze, then turned to walk out the door.

* * *

            Will paced restlessly in front of the phone, unsure of what to do next.  The injured girl was gone, handed over to the fireman and hopefully on her way to the hospital.  He was glad she would be okay.  He really hadn't meant to hurt her.  He wasn't a monster, no matter what Darlene told people.  The kid had just gotten in the way of his plan.  He hoped the police understood that.

            But why should they?  Darlene never did.  Even when I tried and tried to explain.  I would never purposely hurt my kids.  But I was just so damn mad that day and Russ... Russ was just standing there and I lost control... just for a minute.  But it wasn't on purpose.  I said I was sorry.  Russ forgave me.  Why couldn't you, Darlene?

            He stopped his movement and stared at the phone.

            Do I wait for the cops to call?  Or do I pick it up and start things rolling?  Maybe they're waiting to hear about the girl.  But the fireboy over there said she'd be fine.  If she was fine, it wouldn't take this long.  He's not a doctor.  What if he was wrong?  Will's eyes narrowed as he regarded the man in the corner.  What if he's just a lying shit like everybody else?  What's he doing here anyway? Those aren't his kids.  I heard the little one call him Uncle.  He doesn't look like their uncle.  What if their mom's a sneaking, lying bitch like Darlene.  What if her husband sits around at work wondering where she is... who she's seeing... if she's with this skinny punk when she should be at home...

            The shrill ring of the telephone startled him back from where his dark thoughts were taking him.  He rested his hand on the receiver for a moment, waiting for his heart to slow down to a more normal rate.  He had to be in control.  The cops had to think he knew exactly what he was doing.  He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

            "You got my kids yet?"  That's good, Will.  Take charge from the beginning.  Show them you can't be pushed around.

            "Not yet, Mr. Franks," came the negotiator's calm response.  "We haven't been able to locate your wife."

            "You can't locate her?"  His effort at control evaporated in an instant and his voice raised as the familiar comfort of anger replaced it.  "But I told you she was at her mother's!" he shouted.  "I gave you the fucking address and phone number!"  His teeth ground together in frustrated rage.  "You dumb shits should have had my kids here hours ago.  I gave you the girl and now you're just jerking me around!"

            He slammed the phone down and let his head rest against it for moment.

            Damn it all to hell!  What do they want from me!

            He shifted slightly and the small group in the corner came into view.  All their eyes were on him, watching him.  He stared back at them.  The kids were mostly afraid and a part of him was sorry for that.  But another part of him was raging at the hurt and injustice done to him - by Darlene, by the courts, by a young prick who couldn't keep his hands off somebody else's wife.

            He felt his lip curl up in a sneer at the thought of that pretty boy trying to keep Darlene happy.  She'd get bored with him pretty damn quick.  It would take a real man to satisfy her, and Will knew for god damn sure that Uncle Jeffrey wasn't going to measure up.

            His eyes caught those of the dark haired woman and she quickly looked away.  Just the way Darlene used to.  Like she's afraid I'll know what she's been up to.

            His anger swelled at that thought; the heat of it filling him until his chest felt like it would burst.  The thoughts formed in his mind unbidden, and he couldn't have stopped them, even if he'd wanted to.  But he didn't want to.  They made his anger grow with the righteous indignation of the wounded.

            She's just like Darlene.  She looks like her... and acts like her.  She's sitting there with her kids... with his kids and he doesn't even know it.  He thinks she's at home making his dinner and all the time she's been screwing around behind his back.

            He mentally called up the list the teacher had given him; the names of his hostages.  This bitch's name was Joanne.  He scowled even darker as he turned his eyes to the man beside her - John was his name.  Uncle Johnny, he recalled scornfully.  He'd been pretty quiet since he'd come back inside.  His bruised face looked weary and almost sorrowful, but even still, he didn't look very old; not much more than a kid.

            But he's old enough to jump in the sack with a married woman.

            Will's anger swelled into something towering and powerful now, and when he saw the golden haired child reach over from her mother's lap and pat Johnny's arm in an obviously comforting gesture; when the medic covered the small hand with his own and offered the youngster a grateful smile - Will could no longer stop himself.

            Emitting an almost feral snarl, Will covered the short space that separated him from the people on the floor.  With his rifle still clutched in one hand, he reached with his other and grabbed the paramedic's wrist.  He twisted the younger man's arm as he jerked him away from Joanne and her children.  Unprepared for Will's assault, Johnny was thrown off balance and ended up sprawled on his side.  Will brandished his rifle menacingly, his face dark with rage.

            "You stay away from his family!" he threatened harshly, his gun aimed and ready to use.  "They don't belong to you!"

            "Don't hurt him!"

            Will whirled to face the woman.  She was holding her children tightly, tears running down her face.

            "Please don't hurt him," Joanne pleaded in a ragged voice.

            "Figures you're all worked up over him," Will replied with a contemptuous laugh.  "Where's all your boo hooing for your husband?  He's the one you're supposed to worry about, not this scrawny ass wife stealer."  He jerked his head towards the paramedic.

            Joanne cast a quick glance at Johnny, then turned back to Will, her face confused.  "I... I don't know what you're talking about," she said softly.

            "Liar!" Will exploded.  "Is that all you know how to do?  I'm so tired of all the god damn lies!"  The man was forgotten as Will moved toward Joanne, his hand raised, ready to strike her and wipe that air of fake innocence from her face.  But before he could act, Johnny scrambled to block his way, his arms spread out behind him in a protective gesture.

            "Leave her alone."  The young man's words were low and intense, despite his abused and disheveled  appearance, and the fact that he was on his knees, in all respects begging.

            A part of Will wanted to grudgingly admire the courage it took for this kid to put himself in front of a gun, but he couldn't bring himself to admit there was anything of worth in this punk.

            "You two deserve each other," he growled contemptuously.  "Sneaking around behind his back while he's busting his ass earning money to keep her happy.  I'll bet you even used his bed... while he was at work?  Was that how it was?" he demanded harshly.

            Will expected to hear denials, protests, excuses; all the reasons Darlene had given him, but the young man in front of him suddenly relaxed his stance, sat back on his heels shaking his head and was actually laughing.  Bemused, Will lowered his gun slightly and glared.

            "What the hell's so funny?"

            "You," Johnny told him.  His laughter had subsided, leaving in its place a sardonic grin.  "You actually think we're having an..."  He shook his head again and grew serious.  "Mister, you couldn't be more wrong."  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Joanne.  "She doesn't even like me.  In fact, she'd be happier if I disappeared off the whole damn planet."

            Will's scowl deepened.  He wasn't sure if this guy was playing him for a fool, but when he glanced at Joanne, he couldn't read the expression on her face.  He stood facing them, gun still ready, but for the first time unsure what to do next.

            The sudden ringing of the phone spun him around.  He glanced quickly at the clock on the wall.  They were early.  His eyes moved back to the man and woman in front of him, and he shifted his feet, hesitating for a moment, before he shoved the couple from his mind and moved to the telephone.

* * *

            "Can I talk to you, Doc?"

            Kelly Brackett knew as soon as he stepped outside the door that the police would start demanding answers.  But he could hardly hide in the treatment room.  Rampart's E.R. was an extremely busy place and he was needed.  As it was, he and Dixie had gone back and forth on who they should leave in there.  It had to be someone with enough compassion not to mind keeping watch over a dead child.  In the end, they had decided on Carol.  Besides a caring nature, Kel knew the nurse had a good head on her shoulders and would be able to deflect any pushy police or reporters.

            Now he stopped and faced the middle aged man in the wrinkled suit whose face was a mix of frustration and determination.  The doctor realized that this man had a job to do as well, and could hardly blame him for wanting as much information as possible.

            "I'm Lieutenant George Briggs," the officer stated, his hand outstretched.

            Kel shook the man's hand.  "I'm Dr. Brackett," he replied evenly, waiting to see how much the man was going to press him.

            "How is she?  Can I see her?"

            "Not now, I'm afraid," the doctor answered, choosing to ignore the first question.  "I'd rather her parents got a chance to see her first."

            "Is she going to be all right?"  Briggs' weathered face grew concerned.

            Kel felt his mouth twitch slightly, but only someone who knew him well would recognize it as a sign of unease.  "We're doing all we can," he hedged, then glanced around the hallway.  "Are her parents here?"

            The lieutenant shook his head.  "We don't know which kid's in there," he explained.  "The paramedics rushed her out so quick.  I'm sure you can appreciate how upset all the parents are... with not knowing if it was their little girl who came out or not.  I was hoping you could help me I.D. her."

            Kel started to shake his head, but the officer held up his hand.

            "I'll make it easy for you, Doc," he said with a grim smile.  "We got a list of the kids and their ages.  Four of them are girls.  Now, I'm assuming it's not DeSoto's daughter or he woulda said something.  So we have three to choose from and they're all six years old."

            As Kelly watched, Briggs reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad.  He flipped it opened and read from it.  "Alicia Ramirez - Hispanic, brown eyes, long, dark hair."  He glanced up for a response and Kel had no choice but to shake his head.

            "No.  She's white," he replied.

            Briggs nodded and made a note on the pad.  "Okay.  We got two white girls.  Kellie Andrews and Nicole Waterman.  Kellie has green eyes, reddish hair and freckles.  Nicole is a blue eyed blonde."  He glanced up again.  "Which one, Doc?"

            There was no way around it.  Any stalling now would only arouse the policeman's suspicion that he wasn't being dealt straight with.  And like Dixie had pointed out, it wasn't fair to keep this tragedy from the child's parents.  He could only imagine the anguish all the families were going through as they waited to hear which child had been released and how badly she was hurt.  Torn between trying to buy Johnny and the rest of the hostages the time they needed, and his awareness that he couldn't out and out lie to the police, Kelly did the only thing he could do.

            "The child the paramedics brought in has red hair and freckles," he informed the lieutenant.  "I guess that makes her Kellie Andrews."

            Briggs' face lit up and he gave the doctor a quick smile.  "Thanks, Doc.  I'll radio the school and have Mr. and Mrs. Andrews brought in."

            He started to turn aside, but Kel stopped him.

            "Bring them to my office first," he instructed soberly.  "I want to talk to them before they see her."

            The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he regarded the doctor a moment, but whatever he might be thinking, it was too late now to matter.  He finally nodded and moved aside to make his radio call.

* * *

            Johnny sat on the floor, his head resting against the classroom wall, but his eyes fixed on Will Franks.  The police had interrupted their tense confrontation and the phone call appeared to have appeased their captor somewhat.  He hadn't bothered with them since he'd hung up from talking to the negotiator, but had spent the last half hour pacing anxiously in front of the windows.

            From what Johnny could hear of the one sided conversation, it seemed the officials had agreed to bring the kids to the school.  The paramedic wasn't all that informed about hostage negotiations, but he didn't think the police would just do what the man wanted and hand over his children.  No, there was something else going on.  He was positive this was only another stalling technique, but at least for now it was keeping Franks too preoccupied to bother with his captives.

            The kids had settled down again.  Once the commotion had ended, most of them had curled up and gone back to sleep.  Jenny was using Joanne's lap as a pillow, and Joanne was running her hand through the child's hair absently.  Chris had dozed off leaning against Johnny's side, his neck cricked in such an uncomfortable looking position, that the paramedic had finally shifted the boy so that he was laying against Johnny's upper thigh.  A glance at the clock told him it was close to ten o'clock.  With all they'd been through, it was no wonder these kids were beat.  They weren't the only ones.

            As if triggered by power of suggestion, Johnny felt a yawn coming on and tried his best to stifle it.  The right side of his face was aching pretty fiercely now and the last thing he wanted to do was open his mouth wider than necessary.  He wasn't very successful and grimaced at the pain in his upper jaw.

            "Here, why don't you try a couple of these."

            He glanced over and saw the little tin of Bayer Aspirin Joanne was holding out for him.  His eyes moved to her face.  She gave him a weak smile, but didn't hold his gaze for long.  As soon as he took the pills, she turned her attention back to Jenny and resumed stroking her daughter's golden hair.

            Johnny repressed a sigh.  He hadn't meant to hurt Joanne by what he'd said to Will.  Frantic to do something to stop Franks, Johnny had acted impulsively and the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he realized how close to the mark they really were.

            He wasn't even sure he'd fully believed before now how accurate his impressions of Joanne's feelings towards him were, but he would never forget the moment Will had gone to answer the phone and Johnny, shoulders sagging with relief, had turned to make sure Joanne was all right.  The look on her face told him everything.  Her expression - a mix of pain, regret and what he could only figure was guilt - would be etched in Johnny's mind for a long, long time.  She hadn't said anything, and neither had he.  They both just resumed their places against the wall, burying their feelings under the need to be strong for the children.  Now wasn't exactly the time to try and analyze their relationship, or lack of one, though Johnny couldn't help but puzzle about what he'd done wrong over the last year, to make Joanne hate him so much.

            It was with a certain amount of resignation that he opened the tin and took out three tablets.  He debated over a fourth, but decided against it.  He hadn't eaten since lunch and knew he'd be pushing it with three.  The last thing he wanted was to have his stomach start acting up.

            He popped the aspirin in his mouth and then realized the only way to get water was to get up and go to the drinking fountain.  That would mean disturbing Chris, and Johnny didn't want to do that.  He'd never been very good at dry swallowing pills, so he tried to dredge up enough spit to get them down.  All he ended up doing was helping them start to dissolve.

            At least it's Bayer.  I can handle those, he thought, his mouth puckering slightly from the powdery bitterness left on his tongue.

            As he worked at getting the acidic taste out of his mouth, Johnny let his head fall forward and his eyes came to rest on Chris, sleeping peacefully on the paramedic's leg.  Johnny's hand settled on the boy's head.  Asleep, the six year old looked peaceful, like he hadn't just spent the last nine hours held captive by a madman, wondering if he or his mother or sister were going to die, watching while his classmate slowly bled to death.

            Blood.  Johnny bent closer to Chris, staring at his own hand, dark in contrast to the boy's pale hair.  He squinted to see better, and then he knew.  There was still blood under his fingernails - Kellie's blood.

            He quickly pulled his hand back, away from Chris, but he knew already it was a useless gesture.  There was no way he could keep the blood that was spilled tonight away from Roy's kids.  He'd failed them, and he'd failed that little girl.  He was supposed to be a rescue man.  He was supposed to rescue people.  But he certainly hadn't done that tonight.

            He squeezed his eyes shut, not caring at the pain it caused his face.  His mind suddenly flashed back to a scene a little over a year ago; when he'd tried to save a utility worker who'd been electrocuted while up on a power pole.  But the man had died because Johnny hadn't been able to do anything but the most basic first aid, and it had torn at his soul to be so useless.  He wasn't sure why he remembered that now, except that he hadn't felt this helpless for a long time, and he didn't like the feeling.

* * *

            Roy stood leaning against the side of the squad, the thin yellow blanket clutched absently around his shoulders.  Cap had tried to talk him into getting back inside the cab, but it wasn't much warmer, and he couldn't just sit there any longer.  For some reason, being out here made him feel closer to his family, more a part of what was going on.

            With his eyes fixed on the row of classrooms, he was distantly aware of sounds and smells:  the muted voices of the men around him as they talked quietly to each other, the odor of tobacco as someone smoked a cigarette, the filtered static of dispatch as the department took care of other business tonight, the wind rustling the trees and causing the empty swings to squeak softly, bringing with it a slight trace of wood smoke from fireplaces in the neighborhood.  And more distant, safe from the abnormal intrusion of man and machine into their nightly serenade, the droning harmony of crickets.

            None of these things distracted Roy from his determined vigil.  He was aware of them on some level, but his mind was too preoccupied to pay much attention to anything going on around him that didn't directly affect the fate of his family and the other people being held hostage.

            His mind relentlessly kept flashing images - Joanne kissing him good night at Rampart last night, the cards she brought that the kids had made him, Jennifer hugging him tightly before he left for the hospital and Chris reminding him one more time to be sure and bring his tonsils home so they could save them.  Life had been so normal, so ordinary, and apart from his unexpected second round tonsillectomy, so routine.

            But there were other images too.  Johnny bringing him ice cream this morning - could it have been just this morning?  And Johnny's bruised and battered face as he cradled a murdered little girl - a girl who could so easily have been Jenny.  And Roy was so grateful that it wasn't.  What kind of a person did that make him?  That he was glad someone else's daughter had died instead of his own.

            "Hey, Roy?"

            He heard Chet's voice, knew the Irishman had been standing beside him for quite some time, but couldn't bring himself to turn his gaze from the classrooms.

            "Roy, ya gotta check this out.  Something's going on at the office."

            Only then did Roy force himself to pull his attention away from the place where his family was being held.  He turned to where Chet was pointing at the small building that housed the main office, teachers' lounge, and nurse's office.  There was definitely something going on there.  Several police officers were milling about, an unmarked car had pulled up onto the grass behind the building and more uniformed men were standing beside it.  Farther away, probably behind a barricade, Roy could see the bank of lights that told of reporters hovering as close as they could get, smelling something was about to break.

            After a few moments, the door to the office opened and several people were ushered out and into the waiting vehicle.  It backed up a few yards, then the officer driving made a wide U turn onto the playground and headed out towards the gate.

            "Wonder what that was all about," Chet muttered.

            Roy turned his gaze to his friend beside him.  "Can't you figure it out, Chet?" he whispered hoarsely.  "That had to be..."  He paused and swallowed uncomfortably.  "That's the girl's family.  Brackett must not have been able to keep it quiet."  He coughed and grimaced at the pain in his throat, his gaze moving once more to the row of classrooms.

            I'm sorry, Johnny.  I tried to do what you asked.  God, I hope the cops don't screw it up.  Keep them safe, Johnny... keep my family safe.

* * *

            "Kel, the police are here," Dixie told him as she stuck her head through his half open door.  "They have the Andrews with them."

            Kelly Brackett looked up from the patient file he'd been staring at for the last half hour.  Technically he'd gone off shift several hours ago, but staying late in his office to catch up on paperwork wasn't unusual for him.  What was different about tonight was that he hadn't been able to concentrate enough to get any work done.  He gave Dixie a weak attempt at a smile.  He knew she was off the clock as well.

            "Thanks, Dix, send them in.  Oh, and Dix?"  She paused as she'd been about to leave and Kel gave her a meaningful look.  "Be sure everything's in order in Treatment 3."

            "I'll take care of it," she assured him.

            Kel's mouth grew tight as Dixie left.  He knew he could count on her to make things as painless as possible under the circumstances.  She'd only been gone for a moment before his door opened again and a young, apprehensive looking couple walked inside, escorted by Lieutenant Briggs and a man Kelly didn't know, but assumed was another officer.  Mr. Andrews was tall, his brown hair thinning a bit on top.  His wife was average size, with copper red hair.  They both appeared to be in their late twenties, possibly early thirties.

            "Dr. Brackett," Briggs began officiously, obviously a man used to being in charge.  "This is Paul and Janet Andrews."  He turned to the couple.  "This is Dr. Brackett.  He's taking care of Kellie."

            Kel winced inwardly at the Lieutenant's choice of words.  He wished the situation wasn't as complicated as it was.  Telling parents their child was dead was difficult under any circumstances, and these were far from normal.  He rose from his chair and gestured for them to take a seat in front of his desk.  He noticed Mrs. Andrews was holding tight to her husband's hand, and her eyes were openly fearful.  The husband was trying to be strong, but the long, harrowing ordeal they'd been through today showed plainly in both their faces.  He hoped they had enough inner strength to understand what he was going to ask of them.

            "Thank you for showing them in, Lieutenant," Kel stated brusquely, then motioned to the door.  "Now, if you will excuse us."

            His intention was obvious, and Briggs stared at him for a moment, as if unable to believe that the doctor was actually asking him to leave.  Then the moment was gone and the policeman was back in working mode.

            "Now, listen, Doc," he bristled, "this is an ongoing matter, and I have every intention of..."

            "Lieutenant," Kel interrupted in the authoritative tone he was famous for in the Emergency Room.  "Right now, the only thing we're dealing with here is their daughter's medical condition.  I'm sure they would feel much more comfortable discussing it without an audience."

            "Doc," the officer persisted, "that little girl might be able to tell us something... something that might help end whole situation.  I need to..."

            "Not right now," Kel stated emphatically, and stood waiting as one accustomed to instant obedience.

            The clock ticked as a few long moments dragged by, and then Briggs let out a long suffering breath and waved at his partner.

            "C'mon, Snider, let's go."  He headed to the door, paused to give Brackett a long, scrutinizing look as the other officer walked out, then he followed his partner out the door.

            As soon as the door closed, Kel sat back down and faced the Andrews apologetically.

            "I'm sorry for that.  I know this is a difficult time for you."

            "Dr. Brackett...please," Mrs. Andrews pleaded.  "Just tell us about Kellie.  Lieutenant Briggs just said she'd been shot."

            "Is she okay?" Mr. Andrews cut in.  "Will she be all right?"

            Kel held up his hands to forestall their questions.  When he spoke, it was with all the gentleness and compassion he possessed.

            "I know this is hard... and I'm afraid there's nothing I can say to make it any easier."

            He paused for a moment and saw the fear growing in their eyes as they realized he didn't have good news for them.  Mrs. Andrews hand flew up to her mouth as if to stifle a cry.

            "I'm afraid Kellie is gone."  This time the cry wouldn't be stifled, but he continued.  "The lieutenant is right.  She was shot in the abdomen.  There was no way to stop the bleeding."

            With a soft, despairing moan, Mrs. Andrews leaned into her husband.  His arm came around her, his face wearing a stunned expression.

            "You'll... you'll have to forgive us, Doctor," he managed to get out.  "I'm sure you did your best for Kellie..."

            Kel shifted uneasily.  This could so easily go very badly.  "Mr. and Mrs. Andrews... I'm afraid there was nothing I could do for your daughter..."  He paused ever so slightly and then launched into it.  "I'm afraid Kellie was already dead when she was brought here.  In fact... she'd been dead for several hours."

            Both the grieving parents stared at him in incomprehension.  There were silent tears coursing down Mrs. Andrews cheeks and the look on her face was almost one of betrayal.

            "But... but the lieutenant said..."  The woman covered her mouth with her handkerchief again and her husband finished where she faltered.

            "We were told the man let her go... so she could get help.  Why would he... why?"

            "I'm afraid I don't know the whole story," Kel began quietly, "but I can tell you what I know.  I know your grief is probably overwhelming right now, but I need you to be strong... to listen to what I'm going to tell you and see if you can find it in your hearts to try and help those other children... so no other parents have to go through what you are."  He was speaking in earnest now and both the people sitting across from him appeared to be willing to listen.

            "One of the adults in the classroom is a fireman.  His name is John Gage and he's a paramedic who works out of this very hospital.  He took care of your daughter the best he could, but without proper equipment, and no way to get her to a hospital... well, there just wasn't anything he could do."

            "But if she... if she..."  Mrs Andrews didn't seem to be able to bring herself to say the words yet.  "Why would he send her out after... I mean, what would that get him?"

            "What I know I've gotten from the paramedics who brought her in.  They said that Johnny... Mr. Gage, was afraid that if the gunman found out he'd killed one of his hostages... especially a child, that it would push him over the edge.  There'd be no reason for him not to harm anyone else.  So Johnny somehow managed to keep Kellie's death secret... to convince their captor she was only unconscious.  And when he was able, he convinced the man to let her go."

            Kel sat back in his chair, his mouth tight, and gave them a few moments to digest what he'd told them.  When they looked back up at him, Mr. Andrews seemed expectant, as if he knew something was going to be asked of them.

            "Now, what I'm going to propose to you will be very difficult, I'm sure, so I want you to understand, you're under no obligation to go along with anything I ask."

            "You don't want us to tell the police," Mr. Andrews supplied, and Kel nodded at the man's perception.

            "Only for a time," he acknowledged.  "Johnny's biggest fear is that the police will change their tactics if they know they're dealing with a killer.  And that, in turn, may cause the gunman to do something desperate.  I know this isn't easy.  But you may be saving some other child."

            "Some other child," Mrs. Andrews breathed out, then closed her eyes as more tears fell from them.  "But I can't save my child," she whispered.

            Kel let his own gaze drop.  "No," he admitted regretfully.  "I'm afraid not."

            It grew quiet in his office.  Kel sat back in his chair and let the couple have their moment of reflection.  He wasn't sure what he would do in their place.  Not having any children of his own made it hard to completely empathize with the scope of what he was asking them, but he knew it wasn't an easy thing.

            "Can we... can we see her?' Mrs. Andrews finally asked in a soft voice, wiping futilely at the tears which still leaked from her eyes..

            "Certainly," Kel assured her kindly.  "In fact, the longer you stay with her, the less time the police will bother you with questions.  That way you don't have to lie to them."

            Mr. Andrews sighed deeply, a shuddering sound that tore at Kel's heart.  He'd worked in emergency medicine a long time, had tried to help many people through their grief at the loss of a loved one.  But he still wasn't immune from the sorrow of a parent for a child.

            "We'll do it," the man told him resolutely.  "If it will keep that madman from murdering any more children."

            Mrs. Andrews gave another soft sob at her husband's words, but she nodded her agreement with his answer.

            "Thank you, both," Kel said simply, for there was nothing else he could say, and stood to lead them to his office door.  "I'll take you to see Kellie."

* * *

            Darlene Franks wrung her hands nervously as she followed the police officer into the school office.  He had been talking non-stop it seemed, and she wasn't paying much attention anymore.  She really didn't know what they expected her to do.  She was the last person Will was ever going to listen to.  He never had before; not in all the years they were married.  What made them think he was going to start now?

            "...and we've told him the children were on their way."

            Darlene whipped her head up.  She'd heard those words clearly enough.

            "But the children aren't here," she reminded him sharply.

            She'd gone round and round with the lieutenant who called her mother's house tonight.  He felt strongly that the kids should at least talk to Will on the phone, but Darlene refused.  The kids were already asleep, she wasn't about to wake them at this hour and put them through God knew what.  She didn't care what anybody else thought or how many other kids were in trouble.  There was no way she was going to allow it.

            The man had been persistent, trying to appeal to her sense of compassion and had even resorted to trying to make her feel guilty that her children were home safe in their beds, while others were in harm's way.  She could tell he was starting to regard her as a cold hearted bitch, but she didn't care and had finally put her foot down, falling back on threatening a lawsuit if they persisted in trying to bring Russ and Katie into this nightmare.  The man had at last backed down, but only when she agreed to come to the school and try her hand at reasoning with her ex-husband.  She wished Jeffrey had offered to come with her, but he'd stayed on the couch, avoiding her eyes as she walked out the front door with the escort who'd been sent to fetch her.  Somehow she wasn't surprised.

            "It doesn't matter," the officer was saying.  "As long as your husband thinks they're here.  That's what counts."

            "My ex-husband," Darlene corrected with a glare.

            The man gave her an impatient look.  "What I was saying is that you have to be convincing.  He has to think the kids are here."

            Darlene managed to hold her tongue.  There were a lot of people swarming in and out of the small office.  Some wore uniforms and some didn't.  There was a lot of activity around a doorway down the hall, but Darlene couldn't see who or what was in there.  She craned her neck just a bit as they walked past, but the view was blocked.

            "That's just the teachers' lounge," her guide told her evenly.  "That's where the families of the hostages are waiting."

            His tone wasn't accusing, yet there was still accusation there, and Darlene felt the sting of injustice.  None of this was her fault.  She hadn't made Will take a gun into a classroom full of kids.  She wasn't in any way responsible for this lunatic thing he'd done.

            "This way, Mrs. Franks," someone said, and Darlene found herself ushered into the principal's office, and the door was shut behind her.

            The room was not very large, and having five adults crammed inside made it appear even smaller.  There was a desk that was too big to be practical, with a large leather chair behind it and a couple of plain, vinyl chairs for either visitors or recalcitrant students.  The walls were made up of tall bookshelves on one side, and a huge bulletin board filled with children's art on the other.  The desk itself had been cleared of most of its normal items, replaced with several telephones and some other electronic equipment Darlene couldn't identify.  The only thing left that belonged there was the principal's name plate, and it looked sadly out of place amongst all the police trappings.

            "Mrs. Franks?"

            Darlene turned to see Lieutenant Briggs standing beside her.  He'd been the one to first contact her on the telephone, had sent the officer to her house.  He was now gesturing for her to take a seat in the big, leather chair.

            "I don't think this is going to help," she tried once more to convince them.  "It'll probably just make him even more upset."

            "That's possible," Briggs allowed.  "But we've got to try something.  If you stick to what we've planned, then I think we can get him to cooperate."  He gestured again to the chair.

            Feeling outnumbered and backed into a corner, she made her way slowly to the chair and sank down into its softness.  She stared at the phone in front of her, a wave of panic washing over her.

            "I... I don't know what to say..." she began, but another man squeezed a chair in beside her and put his hand over hers.  He was young, and was trying to look confident, but she could still see the strain the day's events had put on him.

            "Don't worry, Mrs. Franks," he assured her with a tired smile.  "We're wired in."  He held up an ear piece that trailed a long wire.  "My name's Clifton.  I've been doing most of the negotiating with your husband..."

            Darlene bit back one more reminder that Will wasn't her husband anymore.

            "...and I'll be listening to everything he says.  I'll coach you through it."

            She let her eyes move around the room, at the anxious faces all staring at her, and with sudden comprehension, realized they were desperate.  They'd been talking to Will for hours and they were out of options.  They were afraid to let it go much longer. 

            God, Will, what were you even thinking?  And you wonder why I didn't want the kids to stay around you.

            She nodded at Clifton and he immediately put on his earpiece and punched in the classroom number.  He handed Darlene the receiver and she took it with a shaky hand.

* * *

            Will stood by the draped windows, exercising all his self control to keep himself from peering anxiously outside.  He didn't want them to think he was nervous or over eager.  And he wasn't sure whether or not the police might have placed snipers on the roof of the building across from them, just for such a movement on his part.

            But he was anxious - and eager.  They'd told him Russ and Katie were on their way.  They'd found Darlene and were bringing the kids here.  He couldn't contain the elation he was experiencing that his plan actually worked.  Yes, it was a shame that little girl had been hurt, but he was sorry about that.  Maybe later, when things settled down, he could see her, apologize to her and her family.  He'd be able to make them see that it hadn't been about their child at all, and that he'd had no choice but to do what he'd been forced to.

            He glanced over his shoulder at his hostages.  Things were quiet in the corner, and he was glad.  He didn't want any more trouble from them, and he hoped they stayed out of his way.  They were almost inconsequential now.  He was nearly done with them.

            The shrill ring of the phone brought his heart to his throat.  This was it.  This was the call to tell him his children were here.  He moved quickly and picked up the receiver before the second ring.

            "I'm here," he stated expectantly, wondering if they would have him talk to the kids first or just tell him they were sending them in.

            There was silence for a moment, then a very soft, tentative, "Will?"

            It took a moment for it to register that it was really her, and then his brows drew together in anger.

            "Darlene?  What's going on?" he demanded harshly.  "Where are Russ and Katie?"

            "Will... Will, they're... they're here.  I just... I wanted to talk to you first."

            "You wanna talk?" he asked incredulously.  "You wanna talk?  Now, all of a sudden you wanna talk?"

            "Well... uh... I... Will, I just thought... maybe we could... you know... talk a little... about the kids."

            A surge of anger blazed through him, and he couldn't keep his voice under control.  "Now you wanna talk about the kids?  Now?  Darlene, I'm through trying to talk to you about my children!  I don't care what you do with the rest of your life or who you do it with, but those kids are mine!  You can't keep them from me."

            "They're our kids, Will," she shot back, sounding more like her old self than the unsure woman who'd been speaking to him.  "And it was a judge who said you couldn't see them, not me."

            "I don't give a damn about any fucking judge, Dar, don't you get that?  Nobody can tell me I can't see my kids.  Nobody!"

            He almost hung up on her.  Almost.  But she grew quiet and he checked his rage long enough to wait and see what she would do next.  When she spoke again, it was with that controlled voice she had perfected when talking to him and that he detested more than anything in the world.

            "Will... you have to stay calm... we have to stay calm."

            God, that must have hurt her to make that correction and he suddenly wondered who was coaching her on the other end.

            "Will," she continued, "the police say you can see the kids... you can talk to them.  But you have to let the other children go.  At least let the children go, Will."

            He glanced at his captives.  His shouting had awakened the kids and they were regarding him with wide eyes.

            "No," he growled abruptly, more to himself than to Darlene, but she heard him anyway.

            "Will, you have to," she insisted.  "It's the only way they'll do it."

            "Don't tell me what I have to do!" he shouted hotly.  "No one can tell me what to do!"

            With that outburst he slammed the phone down.  His blood was racing with outrage and confusion.  He didn't know what he was supposed to do now.  Still holding tight to his rifle, he used his free hand to rub at his tired eyes.  Everything had seemed like it was all going to plan just a few moments ago, and now Darlene had butted in and ruined everything, just like she always did.  What had seemed like such a done deal, was now falling apart.

* * *

            Joanne listened to Will's shouting with growing apprehension, wondering what the police were thinking putting the man's wife on the phone when she was the one he was so upset with.  She could have told them that was a bad idea, and if they thought the woman would calm Will, they'd been sadly mistaken.  Talking to his wife certainly seemed to be having the opposite effect.

            The noise had awakened the kids, too, although that wouldn't have taken much.  Lying on the hard, cold linoleum wasn't very conducive to a deep, restful sleep.  They all had sweaters or jackets with them, but that didn't provide much warmth, especially as the later it got, the colder it got in the classroom.

            The children were now sitting up, huddled close to one of the three adults.  The hours of captivity, with no food, no warmth, and fear a close companion, had taken its toll on their resiliency, and a few of them were softly whimpering.  Miss Perry was trying to comfort as many as she could get her arms around.  She had the girls and Jeffrey pulled close, while Mikey had sidled up to Joanne.  She spared one arm to pull him close, while she held Jennifer with her other.  Chris was nestled under Johnny's protective arm, and Joanne marveled that she felt no resentment that her son felt as safe and secure with John Gage as he would have with her or Roy.

            What she did feel was shame, and a deep remorse for the things she'd thought and the way she'd treated this man who had never done anything more than try and be a friend to her husband and family.  She didn't know if she could ever erase from her mind the painful ring of truth in Johnny's voice as he'd informed Will so matter of factly that Joanne couldn't stand him.  All her attempts to hide her feelings, all the times she'd congratulated herself for putting up a good front; it had all been a sham.  Johnny had known from the start that she didn't like him, that she'd have been much happier if Roy's partner had been a plain, happily married, older man.

            He'd known all that and he'd still put his own life on the line when he'd come between her and the rifle in Will's hands.  He backed Roy up and helped make sure he came home safely to his family every shift.  He'd used his own body to shield Chris and Jennifer during the rain of bullets.  He'd tenderly cradled a dying child.  Joanne knew John Gage was not perfect, nor was he a saint, but what tore at her was knowing he'd had no radical change in character.  The crisis had not suddenly turned him into some heroic figure.  He was still the same man he'd always been.  She'd just never been able to see it, focusing instead on the small quirks in his personality that had annoyed her.

            It's hard to have your mistakes suddenly thrust into your awareness, and Joanne had been unable to face Johnny.  She didn't know what to say, how to make it right; if it ever could be made right.  And so, after Will had moved toward the phone, after the danger was momentarily passed, she'd avoided Johnny, barely meeting his eyes, not saying much, telling herself now was hardly the time or place to get into any kind of heart to heart.  Later, when life had returned to normal, then she would make a point to sit down with Johnny and clear the air.  It was weak and she knew it, but she didn't know what else to do and so she kept quiet, letting the tension grow between them.

            That tension was now made worse by Will shouting hotly into the phone and slamming it down.  Whatever his wife had been trying to convince him to do hadn't gone over well.  They'd only heard one side of the conversation, but Joanne assumed it was one more effort to try and have him release hostages.  Perhaps merely the children.  The police would probably work on getting them to safety first.  She let her eyes move over the little ones, on Chris and Jennifer.  All these children deserved to be at home, to held by their mothers, kissed by their fathers.

            Roy's image abruptly flashed into her mind and she blinked back tears.  He was still in the hospital, perhaps not even aware that his family was in danger.  What would he think when he knew?  What would he do?  Oh, how she wished he were here now.  How she longed for his strong arms to wrap around her; how she wished her babies were safe in his embrace.

            "Damn, damn, damn."  Will's muttering had grown louder, and Joanne glanced up to see him standing in front of them, his countenance still angry, but there was also indecision in his eyes, and for the first time, she felt a surge of hope that perhaps he might let the kids go free.

            "What do they want you to do?" Johnny spoke up suddenly.

            Joanne shot him a glance, wondering why he would force another confrontation.  She could see in his face that he was still in pain.  The aspirin hadn't helped much, if any.  And his voice was strained as he talked through a swollen jaw.

            Will scowled darkly and raised his gun up to his shoulder.

            "You want more trouble, pretty boy?" he growled, and Joanne held her breath, praying the man didn't shoot.

            "No, man," Johnny answered quietly.  "No trouble."

            And then, surprisingly, Will lowered his gun.

            "They want you to let the kids go, don't they?" Johnny continued evenly.

            Will nodded slowly.

            "Then why don't you?" Johnny suggested in that same quiet tone.  "You don't need them, and you'll still have three hostages.  And that way the cops'll think you're cooperating."

            Will remained silent for a time, obviously weighing his options.  Joanne didn't think he had many.  He either let them go or not.  Either way, she doubted the police were going to just hand the man's children over to him.  But apparently that hadn't occurred to him, and she hoped he didn't get a sudden grasp on reality.  If he really was thinking clearly, he would know he was in an impossible situation.  What Johnny had said earlier was a very real danger.  If at any time Will clued in to the hopelessness of his position, they were all as good as dead.

            "Let them go, man," Johnny pressed, his voice gently persuasive and Joanne found herself holding her breath again.

            Another long moment passed, and then Will stood up straight, all wavering gone.  He backed up a few steps and gestured with his rifle.

            "Okay, I want all the kids up here by me.  Now," he added forcefully.

            The children were hesitant, but the adults acted at once.  Joanne urged Mikey to stand, and saw on her right, Miss Perry doing the same with her charges.  On her left, Johnny was prodding Chris to get to his feet.  Joanne lifted Jenny off her lap and kissed her daughter's cheek.

            "Be a good girl, and go with Chris," she said brightly.

            "But aren't you coming, Mommy?" Jenny asked fearfully, still clinging to Joanne's neck.

            "Not right now, sweetie," Joanne told her with a smile.  "It's just the kids' turn this time."

            "Hurry up, hurry up," Will growled as the children slowly shuffled toward him.

            "They're scared of you," Miss Perry snapped, her control nearly gone.  "Don't yell at them."

            Will glared at the teacher and Joanne was afraid the man was going to react volatilely, but instead he nodded at the other woman.

            "Then you go with them.  You take them outside.  I don't need you either."

            Miss Perry looked startled, then glanced over at Joanne and Johnny, as if looking for guidance.  Joanne gave her a smile of encouragement.

            "Go on," she whispered.  "Get them out of here."

            The teacher nodded, almost apologetically, and got stiffly to her feet, then gathered the children around her.

            "Why don't you let both the women go," Johnny suggested, pushing his luck since Will seemed to be willing to listen to him.  "One hostage is all you need."  But Johnny's brief rapport with their captor evaporated with that request.

            "She stays!" Will shouted vehemently, shifting his rifle menacingly.  "I want you both here."

            "Okay, man, okay," Johnny relented quickly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

            Joanne's shoulders sagged.  She'd had a brief flare of hope that she would be able to go with the kids, but that didn't seem to be in the cards right now.  And she didn't want Johnny to prod Will too far and have him change his mind about the kids.  She caught his eye and gave her head a quick shake to let him know not to push.  She could see the regret in the dark haired young man's eyes.

            "Okay, okay, let's get this going.  Line 'em up and bring 'em over here," Will ordered, moving to the phone.

            The kids followed their teacher, but Chris hung back, and Jennifer refused to let go of Joanne.

            "I wanna stay with you," the three year old whimpered.

            "Jen, honey, you need to go with Chris and the others," Joanne urged her daughter quietly, afraid to draw too much attention to themselves.  "Can you do that for Mommy?"

            "I don't wanna go either," Chris said fearfully, his eyes darting between Will and his mother.

            "Get 'em over here," Will barked, noticing they were hanging back.

            Joanne wasn't sure what she was going to do, but Johnny suddenly stepped in.  "You know your dad's out there," he told the kids with a smile.  "He's waiting to see you."

            Joanne glanced at Johnny in dismay.  She knew it was important that the kids leave, but she didn't want to lie to them.

            "Johnny... " she began hesitantly, but he had already anticipated her fears.

            "It's okay, Jo," he said.  "Roy's really out there.  I saw him. I talked to him."

            He was telling the truth.  She could see it in his eyes, and she felt tears well up at the thought of Roy being so close.  Johnny must have seen she was struggling for control, for he reached out to take Chris' hand and put Jennifer's little one into it.

            "Jenny Bean, you know your dad's still not gonna feel real good.  His throat's probably hurting real bad.  I need you to go take care of him, okay?  And Chris, look out for your sister."

            Both children nodded solemnly and moved over to join the rest of the group.  It only took a moment for Will to call the office.  He only said three terse words.  "They're coming out."  And then he moved to the door and opened it up a crack.  When he at last appeared satisfied, he moved back and waved Miss Perry forward.

            It took all Joanne's control not to cry as she watched her children walk out of the classroom.  Jenny had cast one last look over her shoulder, then waved a sad little wave before she disappeared out the door.  After they were gone, Joanne let her head fall into her hands, her body trembling.  They were safe.  Her children were safe.  It took a long time before she was even aware of Johnny's comforting hand on her shoulder.

* * *

            After all the hours they'd waited with nothing to do, when word came down that it was time to act, things happened rapidly.  Without any explanation other than, "in case we need you," the paramedics and their equipment were ordered to the office.  Captain Stanley passed the word to Dwyer and Carlson, with a long look in Roy's direction.

            Roy wasn't sure if that meant he was being ordered to stay put, but he decided unless Cap stated otherwise, he was going along with the rest of the medics.  As he stepped up to help pull out the gear, Dwyer tossed him his turnout coat again.

            "Just so the cops don't give you a hard time," was all Charlie said.  He grabbed up the drug box and biophone.

            "Thanks," Roy rasped out, hoping Dwyer heard him.  He quickly put on the coat, then picked up the oxygen, leaving the trauma box to Carlson.

            As the three paramedics started to head toward the office, Roy heard Cap's crisp voice behind them.

            "Kelly, go with DeSoto.  My orders."

            "Right, Cap," Chet replied and trotted over to join the small group.

            Roy felt a tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with his surgery.  He wasn't sure what he would have done without these guys.  From Chet's constant support, to Dwyer's willingness to dodge the police, to Cap's quiet concern that left him open to a possible rank war with the police department.  They'd all been here for him tonight, and he was grateful.

            Halfway to the office, they joined up with Stevens and Grant, Station 36's C shift paramedics.  They were both burdened with gear and Chet reached out with his good arm to take the biophone from Grant.  Roy knew the gesture was more than just helpful.  It was Kelly's way to try and keep the police from barring him from the office.  Hopefully things would be too hectic inside for anyone to really care just how many paramedics showed up.

            They were ushered into the work room just to the right of the teachers' lounge.   As they found places to stand among large paper cutters, ditto machines, shelves filled with books and multi-colored paper, and a couple of TV's on rolling carts, Lieutenant Briggs came in and stood by the door, facing them.  His only reaction to seeing Roy was a slightly raised eyebrow, but he had other things on his mind at the moment.

            "Okay, gentlemen, listen up," he began, his voice carefully controlled.  "He's letting the kids go."

            Roy felt his knees grow weak with relief, but there was no time to indulge in his own personal  emotions.  Briggs was still talking.

            "My men will bring them in.  They know exactly what to do and I don't want anybody out there thinking he's a hero."

            His eyes lingered momentarily on Roy, but the paramedic had no illusions about playing Superman.  All he wanted was his kids here where he could hold them in his arms, and see for himself that they were unharmed.

            "What I need you men for," Briggs continued, "is to check 'em over.  They're going to be scared for sure, but some of them may have need of your services.  You may also have some excited relatives to deal with too, so be prepared."

            "It's going down, Lieutenant," a voice called out, and Briggs ducked out of the room amid a flurry of excited voices that disappeared down the hall.

            The room was left eerily quiet, and Roy had the oddest sensation that time had stopped.  Chet hadn't moved from Roy's side, and none of the C shift paramedics had stirred from where they had perched to listen to Briggs.  They were all waiting, and Roy didn't think he was the only one holding his breath.

            Whether it was five minutes, fifteen, or even fifty, Roy would never be able to say.  He only knew the strange hushed limbo suddenly erupted into a wild confusion of men's voices, children crying, someone shouting, and then all at once the workroom was filled with confused frightened youngsters, jubilant police officers, and overwrought parents, their relief for their children's safety finally venting itself in tears and happy babbling.

            In the midst of all this, it took Roy a moment to find them.  He craned his neck around the crowd, trying to push his way through several joyful reunions, and then his eyes lit upon the two faces he was looking for, and he thought his heart was going to burst in his chest.  Chris and Jenny had been shepherded in by the lieutenant himself and were standing inside the doorway, Christopher holding his sister's hand, tears staining their frightened faces, until they saw Roy.  Then both children rushed forward at once.  Roy dropped to his knees and held out his arms to grab them up, kissing both their heads repeatedly.

            "Daddy!  Daddy," Jenny sobbed into his neck, her little arms clinging to him desperately.  Chris didn't say anything, but his arms were wrapped around Roy just as tightly as Jennifer's.  The boy's face was buried into his father's shoulder, and Roy could feel him trembling.

            "Are you guys okay?" he managed to get out in a gritty voice that quaked with emotion.  "You're not hurt are you?"  He felt Chris shake his head, but Jennifer didn't answer him.  "Jenny?  Sweetie, are you okay?"  He tugged on her a little to get her to lift her head and look at him.  She did so slowly, her nose running and her blue eyes still watery with tears.  "Jenny?" Roy repeated in a soft whisper.  "You okay, baby?"

            The little girl nodded slowly and ran a hand across her nose, sniffling loudly.  "Yeah, Daddy," she answered finally.  "I'm okay."  She frowned at him a moment, then put her hand up to his forehead in such an imitation of Joanne that Roy's throat grew tight.  "I think you have a temp'ature," she diagnosed solemnly.  "And you're talkin' scratchy.  Uncle Johnny said I was s'posed to take care of you."

            "He did, huh?" Roy managed to croak.

            "He took good care of us, Dad," Chris spoke up.  Roy turned to regard his son, who had also lifted a tear streaked face to tell his story.  "When that bad man was shooting his gun... Uncle Johnny grabbed us and pushed us under the table.  He kept holdin' us 'til the man yelled for us to get up."

            "And I could hear his heart beating real fast," Jennifer added, nodding her blonde head emphatically.  She swiped at her nose again, but her tears appeared finished for the moment.

            Both children seemed to want to tell him what happened and he supposed that was good for them to get it out in the open, but it wasn't easy for Roy to have to sit and listen to the terrors they'd undergone and hear how his friend and partner had saved his children's lives, without losing his own fragile control.  And the one subject he was almost afraid to hear about - Joanne.  What was happening right now with his wife?

            "Uncle Johnny was really brave, Dad," Chris supplied, "even though he was scared just like us."

            "And then that bad man hurted him."  Jenny sniffed, a few tears leaking out again as she remembered.  "And he tried to hurt Mommy, too."

            Roy's heart nearly stopped beating at his daughter's words.  He knew Johnny had been roughed up; had seen the cuts and bruises on his friend's face.  But to think that Joanne might have suffered at that maniac's hands was something Roy hadn't allowed himself to consider.

            "Is..." he paused and had to clear his throat before he could finish.  "Is Mommy... is she okay?" he asked fearfully.

            Jenny nodded again.  "She's okay, Daddy.  He didn't hurt her."

            "Uncle Johnny wouldn't let him," Chris added stoutly, his admiration sounding loud and clear.

            "He wouldn't, huh?" Roy asked, wondering now if perhaps his partner had gotten his bruises in Joanne's defense.

            "Huh uh," Jenny answered.  "That man called Mommy a bad name and was gonna hit her..."

            "But Uncle Johnny told him not to," Chris interrupted to finish.

            Roy knew he wasn't getting the whole story, but now wasn't the time to push the kids for more details.  What was important was that Johnny had somehow kept the gunman from hurting Joanne.  First his kids, and now his wife.  It seemed like Roy owed his partner a debt he would never be able to repay.

            As the kids' energy wound down, for the first time Roy became aware of other sounds in the room.  There were other children talking, other parents laughing and crying over them.  Dwyer, Carlson and the guys from 36 were making the rounds, examining a few minor cuts and scrapes, talking softly to the kids as they treated them.  There were other voices too, adult voices, and Roy glanced over to the doorway where Lieutenant Briggs and another officer were talking to a distraught woman.  It took a moment, but Roy finally recognized her as Chris' teacher.  He hadn't realized she'd been released with the kids.  He watched for a moment, as she answered the lieutenant's questions, one hand dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, the other gesturing at the children in the room.

            Roy's eyes narrowed a bit, wondering why this woman had been let go and not Joanne, but he squelched the flare of anger that threatened to erupt.  It wasn't anybody's fault, and certainly not this poor young woman's.  The only person to blame here was the crazy man holding a rifle inside the classroom.

            The work room had cleared somewhat.  Evidently the police were allowing the children to be taken home once they were cleared by the paramedics.  Dwyer caught his eye and walked over.

            "They okay, Roy?" he asked.

            Roy nodded.  "Yeah," he sighed.  "They're just tired and scared."  He got up from his knees, still holding Jenny with one arm, his other pulling Chris to his side.  "What about the others?"

            Dwyer shrugged.  "Mostly the same.  We're sending them home to sleep in their own beds.  That's what they need more than a trip to Rampart."  He glanced at Jenny, who had snuggled down against Roy's shoulder, her eyes already drooping.  "Looks like yours are in the same boat," he observed kindly.

            Roy smiled weakly.  "Yeah," he agreed in a rough voice.  "I think there was a couch in the teacher's lounge.  I'm gonna bunk 'em down there for a while."  He left the "while" undefined, but Dwyer picked up on what he meant.  There was no way Roy was leaving the school yet, not while Joanne was still being held prisoner.

            "C'mon, son," he prodded Chris softly to follow him past several police officers and into the next room.

            Jenny was already asleep and only stirred slightly when Roy laid her down on the old sofa.  He patted the other end and motioned for Chris to join his sister.  His son did so slowly, his eyes still on Roy.

            "You're not gonna leave us here, are ya, Dad?" he asked in alarm.

            Roy smiled and shook his head.  "No, of course not.  Don't you worry, pal."  He reached down and tousled Chris blond head.  "I just want you and Jenny to get some rest.  We're gonna wait here for your mom, okay?"

            Chris yawned widely and nodded, then curled up on the other end of the couch.  "And Uncle Johnny, too?" he asked sleepily.

            Roy perched on the edge, his hand on his son's head.  "Yeah, Uncle Johnny, too," he promised softly as he saw Chris' eyes close.

            "Hey, Roy?"

            Roy glanced up at the soft voice.  Chet was standing there, his one good arm holding blankets.

            "I thought you could use a couple of these," he offered, handing them over.  "I found 'em in the nurse's office."

            "Thanks, Chet," Roy whispered, as he took them and gently spread them over his sleeping children.

            He tucked both kids in snugly, then stood back up, his eyes still fixed on their angelic faces.  What he wanted most in the world was to take them home and see them safely in their own beds.  But he couldn't do that just yet.

            He also knew that he couldn't just wait in here not knowing what was going on with Joanne.  He couldn't explain why, but he knew he would feel closer to his wife if he was outside, waiting with the other police and fire personnel.  But he couldn't leave the kids here alone.  If they woke up, they would need someone here they knew and trusted.  Roy's eyes finally left the two small figures on the couch and found Chet beside him, like he'd been all evening.

            Before he could even open his mouth to ask, Chet waved Roy off the couch.

            "Get outta here," he whispered.  "I'll keep an eye on 'em."

            Roy felt a grateful smile tug at his mouth, but he knew Kelly wasn't the kind for sentimental moments.  Instead, the paramedic rose from the sofa and slapped Chet on his good shoulder.

            "I guess I shouldn't listen to the things Johnny says about you," he quipped in a rough voice.

            Chet's moustache quirked at one corner.  "Nobody should listen to anything Gage says," he retorted, but the usual force of the familiar slur wasn't there.  He jerked his head toward the door.  "Go on," he said quietly.

            Roy bent down and placed a tender kiss on each of his children's heads, then he left the lounge.

            He only made it as far as the office, when Briggs grabbed hold of his arm and stopped him.

            "DeSoto... I need to talk to you."  The officer's tone told Roy this wasn't going to be a pleasant little chat.

            "What about?" he asked, his whispered words cracking.  This conversation was going to be very one-sided.

            "We've been talking with the teacher... Miss Perry.  She says that the Andrews girl is dead... has been since before she was taken out of that classroom."

            Caught off guard, Roy struggled with an answer.  The kids were out of harm's way, but Joanne and Johnny were still being held by that lunatic.  Johnny's fears about the man's reaction to learning he'd killed a child would still be a consideration.  But ducking the issue with the police for a time was one thing, out and out lying to the officer in charge was something else.  This man was only trying to do his job and right now that job was to get Roy's wife and best friend out of that classroom alive and unharmed.

            His lack of response only spurred the lieutenant on further.  "What I want to know is how all you hot shot paramedics missed that little fact."  He gave a mirthless smirk.  "I mean, all we've heard this past year is how you guys are so great and wonderful and yet four of you can't figure out you got a dead kid on your hands.  How does that happen?"

            "Lieutenant..." Roy began, wincing at the rawness of his throat.  He wished he had the full use of his voice.  He need to sound convincing and right now all that was coming out was a weak rasp. He cleared his throat painfully and tried again.  "Lieutenant... Johnny... my partner is in there with that crazy man, and he's trying very hard not to get anyone else killed."

            "So he did know the kid was dead?"

            Roy nodded reluctantly.  "Of course he did," he whispered hoarsely.  "But he was worried about you guys... how you would react.  He didn't want you to tip the guy off."  He paused and had to swallow painfully.  When he spoke again, his words could barely be heard.  "He's afraid of how this lunatic will react if he finds out."  That was all the voice he had left.  If this cop still wanted to argue, he'd have to do it with himself.

            Briggs stood there eyeing him with a calculating look, as if sizing him up, and then blew out a long breath.

            "Look, DeSoto... we're not idiots, okay?  What'd your partner think we were gonna do?  Start screaming at this guy?"

            Roy opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  All he could do was shrug.  He had no more voice left to defend Johnny's actions.  They'd both done what they thought best at the time.

            Briggs held up a forestalling hand, and Roy wondered if somebody had filled the officer in on his condition.

            "So your partner didn't want to take any chances.  I can understand that.  But you should've told us.  Something that important we needed to know.  We can't make educated decisions unless we have all the facts.  I know you guys meant well, but dammit, next time let us do the job we're trained to do."

            Roy could only stand there, feeling like an errant school boy, as the policeman stalked off towards the principal's office.  But still, in his heart, he felt like Johnny had been right.  And as long as Johnny's choices were affecting Joanne's safety, Roy was only too willing to go along with them.  Hopefully Briggs would be proven right and the police wouldn't let this new knowledge color their dealings with the gunman.  Roy could only pray the officer knew what he was talking about.

* * *

            Darlene felt numb as she sat behind the principal's desk, basically forgotten in all the commotion of the children's release.  She didn't even presume to think it had been her conversation with Will that had caused that to happen.  She knew her ex-husband too well for that.  All she'd done was further enrage him, just as she'd told the police would happen.  Why he suddenly let the kids go, Darlene couldn't begin to explain.  But then, taking them hostage in the first place wasn't something she could explain either.  She knew Will had a temper and was unable to manage his anger.  Their fights had been long, loud and terribly bitter.  But this was something beyond anything she could ever have imagined.  Will might strike out in anger, but he would never plan anything this cruel.

            But then she had to face the fact that he had.  The man she'd married, had children with, slept with, shared her life with for nearly ten years had purposefully and with deliberate forethought, brought a rifle into a school and opened fire on a class full of children.

            And he'd killed one of them.

            That thought kept running through her mind over and over, like a record with the needle stuck.  He'd shot that little girl and she'd died.  Her children's father was a murderer.

            And as often as she repeated it to herself, she still felt nothing.  The numbness had spread from her mind throughout her entire body.  She heard all the conversation around her without reacting to any of it.  No one was paying her the slightest attention and she didn't care.  That was how she'd learned of the little girl's death.  A passing remark between Briggs and Clifton, as they discussed their next move.  Neither man had so much as glanced at her before they shut the door and took their business outside the small office, and Darlene sat in the soft leather chair feeling the stupor of disbelief take over.

            How could she have lived with Will for all those years and not known he was capable of something like this?  That he was capable of killing anyone, let alone a small child, was so out of the boundaries of reality, that it was taking a long time to completely process.

            But it was true.  Even as she struggled to understand it, she knew it was true.  And it could have so easily been Russ or Katie.  If her children had been in that room...- if they hadn't wanted to go with Will... if they'd put up a struggle.  What would he have done then?  Would he have done just what he did?  She suddenly had no doubts.  He'd brought that gun with him even though he'd fully expected to find his children in their classes.  He'd been ready to open fire with his son and daughter in harm's way.

            The numbness suddenly gave way.  And in its place a deep hatred grew.

            How dare you, Will?  How dare you put my children in danger.  How dare you even think I would let Russ and Katie come down here to see you while you stand there with a gun in your hand... after you killed someone's little girl for no other reason than your own god damned selfishness.  How dare you do this, Will.  How dare you put me through this.

            And as those bitter thoughts churned in her heart, and that hatred grew, Darlene's vision became narrower and narrower, until all she could see was the black telephone on the desk in front of her, and she reached out and picked up the receiver.

* * *

            The classroom seemed unnaturally quiet with the children gone.  Will hadn't moved from the door, but kept a constant vigil there, frequently peering out from a narrow crack in the drapes.  It had been nearly half an hour since the kids had been released and so far there had been no word from the police.  Johnny knew something was going to have to happen soon.  This guy wasn't going to be patient for long.

            The paramedic shifted his legs a bit, bringing his knees up to try and ease the stiffness out of them.  He kept his movements slow, so as not to draw Will's attention.  It wouldn't take much to set the man off and Johnny didn't want to take any risks - not with Joanne still in the room and still very much a target for this madman's rage.

            If only he could have convinced the man to let her go too.  Alone, Johnny would feel free to push this guy, take a chance if he had the opportunity.  But not with Joanne here.  He wouldn't take that kind of risk with her safety.  And Will already had some kind of warped anger towards the two of them that seemed to be mixed up with whatever beef the guy had with his ex-wife.  It wouldn't take much to set him off again.  No, Johnny knew he had to be especially careful in whatever he did or said.  He already had enough on his conscience without causing any harm to come to Roy's wife.

            And with that thought, his mind instantly flashed the image of Kellie, lying lifeless in his arms, and he let his forehead fall forward to rest against his upraised knees.  That little girl's face was going to haunt him for a long time.

            There had to have been something he could have done differently.  Somehow gotten her help.

            Did I give up too soon?  Should I have pushed Will harder?  What if I read the situation wrong?  What if I could have persuaded him to let her go?  What would have happened if I'd just been straight with the guy?

             Johnny had been so sure at the time that he'd needed to hide Kellie's true condition.  But what if he'd been wrong?

            There was no way he would ever know for sure and that was nagging at him and making his head hurt something awful.  A part of his brain reminded him that he'd gotten a rifle butt in the side of the face and that just might be what was giving him a headache, but it was a very tiny voice and he did his best to ignore it.

            "Johnny?"

            The voice was so soft he almost thought it was the one in his mind, but he lifted his head and glanced over at Joanne.  He hadn't been sure how to console her after the kids left.  All he had offered was an awkward hand to her shoulder.  Of all the times he regretted not having been able to win Joanne's friendship, this was probably the one that hurt the most.  His natural impulse was to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her close for a comforting moment of reassurance.  But he held back and eventually withdrew his hand from her shoulder, reminding himself that she probably wouldn't appreciate his attempt.

            Now, she'd seemed to have collected herself, though she was pale and her eyes were frightened.

            "Do you need some more aspirin?" she whispered in a shaky voice.

            He shook his head, and regretted the action as the pain in his head increased, but he managed to give Joanne a quick smile.

            "Nah, thanks anyway," he replied, keeping his voice low as well.  They're not helping much, he didn't bother to add.

            Joanne returned his smile with a quick one of her own.  She was silent a moment and then she spoke up again, her eyes catching his and holding them.

            "You did all you could for her, you know," she told him kindly.

            Johnny's eyebrows shot up at her perception.  How could she have known what he was thinking.  At the look on his face, Joanne's smile grew slightly wider and he could swear that for a moment there was a twinkle in her eyes, however briefly it stayed.

            "Years of practice with Roy," she explained, then her face grew serious again.  "I'm serious though," she continued.  "You did all you could."

            Johnny blew out a soft sigh and let his shoulders slump.  "Yeah... maybe," he responded dully, then let his head drop back to his knees, cutting off their tenuous connection.  It was quiet enough in the room that he could hear Joanne's sigh of exasperation at his stubbornness.  For some reason, that brought a smile to his face.  He hadn't grown up with an older sister, but if he had, he could well imagine hearing that sound many times in his life.

            "What are you two whispering about?" Will's voice demanded suddenly.

            Johnny jerked his head up to see their captor standing only a few feet in front of them, his rifle waving at them threateningly.  The strain of waiting had him on edge and it showed in his face and in his movements.

            "Nothing, man," Johnny said softly, holding up his hands in a calming gesture.  He could see Joanne had started trembling again.  He needed to diffuse this right away.  "She was just giving me some aspirin."

            The man's eyes darted between them suspiciously, but before he could say anything else the phone rang loudly, startling all of them.  Will only hesitated a moment, before he whirled and rushed to pick up the call he'd been waiting for.

            With one eye on the gunman, Johnny reached out to grab Joanne's hand.  Their long ordeal had taken its toll and she was close to losing it.

            "Hang tough," he whispered.  "I think we're coming to the end of it."

            She sniffed once and squeezed his hand back.  And when she met his eyes, he knew she understood that the end he was talking about might not be the one they were hoping for.

* * *

            "Where are they?" Will demanded harshly, his nerves taut with all the waiting.  "I sent those kids out thirty minutes ago!"

            He expected to hear the maddeningly calm voice of the negotiator he'd been talking to all night, but instead Darlene was on the line.  Her voice, though pitched low, was as far from calm as Will had ever heard it.

            "I'll never forgive you for this, Will Franks... never!"

            Will scowled in confusion.  He'd done everything they'd wanted.  What was Darlene so upset about?

            "Darlene..."  He paused, working hard to keep his own voice calm.  Maybe this was a test of some kind to see if he lost his temper.  "The cops have the kids.  I'm waiting for Russ and Katie.  Where are they?"

            There was a choking sound from the other end that was a mix between a laugh and a sob.  "You're not going to see them, Will.  You're never going to see them."

            "What are you talking about, Darlene?  The cops said..."

            "The cops are blowing smoke up your ass so you'll do what they want.  But the kids aren't even here.  And if I have anything to say about it, they never will be."

            Will felt like the floor was falling out from under him.  "Dar... I... But I did what they asked.  I sent the kids out... I let that little girl go..."

            "That little girl is dead!" Darlene hissed bitterly.  "She's dead, Will.  Do you know what that means?  Do you understand?  You killed her!  You're a murderer!  The cops will never give you anything you want and I will never let Russ and Katie near you.  Do you hear me?  Do you understand?  I..."

            Darlene's tirade was suddenly cut off, replaced by muted voices and his ex-wife's more strident one arguing.  It was obvious to him that the police hadn't known she was on the line and they were now struggling to get her off of it.  He could also imagine they were scrambling to do some damage control about the information Darlene had given him.

            He listened to all this with one numbed part of his brain, but the other part was whirling in confusion.  He hadn't killed anyone.  He let that little girl go so she could get help.  The fireman said she would be fine if she got help.

            His eyes moved slowly to the couple sitting across the room - to the woman frightened half out of her mind and the know-it-all paramedic who'd lied to him the entire time.  The truth crystallized in his brain with swift, crushing clarity.  They'd both lied to him - lied and cheated and played him for a fool.  Everything he'd planned was ruined.  His plan was useless.  The police would never let him have his kids.  They would never let him leave this classroom alive.  Will was a child killer and he knew what that meant.  He also knew whose fault it was.

            He heard the negotiator's voice calling to him as the receiver slipped from his fingers to dangle from its short cord.

* * *

            Lieutenant George Briggs was fuming.  He could hear Clifton's voice as the negotiator tried again and again to get the gunman back on the line.  The damn broad had just thrown the biggest monkey wrench she could find into the works, and all Briggs' could think of now were the things DeSoto had said to him.  How his partner feared what Franks might do if he found out he'd killed that little girl.

            He stood there a moment, taking in the scene in the principal's office.  The woman crying softly in the corner and poor Clifton calling Will's name again and again.  But it wasn't going to work, and Briggs knew that the time for talking had ended.  He pushed himself away from the door frame and stalked to his main command center.  The young communications officer glanced up anxiously.

            "Put everybody on alert," Briggs barked out.  "The shit's gonna hit the fan and I want them ready to move."

* * *

            "Something's happening."

            At Dwyer's comment, Roy turned to see Cap walking up to the squad.  Even though in the darkness his face was unreadable, Cap's stride spoke of purpose and determination.

            "The lieutenant just radioed.  They're expecting some kind of action."  He was addressing all three paramedics, but  his eyes lingered longest on Roy.  "They want you guys to be ready to move in case they need you.  Get your gear and stand by at the edge of the blacktop."

            Roy moved to help Dwyer and Carlson, assuming that since Cap never said anything to the contrary, he was expecting Roy to go along with the on duty paramedics.  That suited Roy just fine.  It not only put him closer to Joanne, but it allowed his mind to focus on something else besides what might be happening inside that classroom.

            He grabbed up the portable oxygen and followed alongside Dwyer.  Roy was still wearing the other man's turnout coat.  He'd tried to give it back after he'd come outside again, but Charlie had just smiled and told him to keep it for the duration.  Roy was grateful for its limited warmth as they settled down at the edge of the blacktop.  The wind had picked up, driving the temperature down.  Dwyer, he noticed, had slipped on his dark blue jacket.

            The men from 36 had taken position on the other side of the row of classrooms.  In the grassy area between the groups of paramedics, Roy could see the shadowy figures of the police as they positioned themselves as close as possible.  As his eyes followed their furtive movements, it was inevitable that his gaze end up at the besieged classroom.

            Dear God, he found himself praying with some surprise since he didn't consider himself a religious man.  Dear God, let her be okay.  Let her be safe.

* * *

            Something was wrong.  From the moment Will picked up the phone, the atmosphere in the classroom had changed, and Johnny could feel the tension grow heavier and heavier.

            This call was different than the others.  From what they could hear, Will was talking to his ex-wife again, but there didn't seem to be any negotiating happening.  Johnny knew the police would never let this guy's kids just walk in here, but he'd thought they'd at least try and stall again - to coax more concessions out of Will.  But this conversation had no give and take, no back and forth - talking and listening - as had been the pattern the entire time they'd been held captive.

            This time Will was mostly listening, stammering out a few responses, but he appeared off guard, like this call wasn't at all what he'd been hoping for or expecting.  Johnny watched the man's face for a few moments, not liking at all the changes that were coming over it.

            "Get behind me, Joanne," he hissed quietly.

            "What?"  She looked at him quizzically.  "What's the matter?"

            Johnny shifted forward a bit, trying to work some feeling back into his legs, his eyes fixed on the man on the phone.

            "Just do it, Jo," he insisted as forcefully as he could in a whisper.  He must have communicated some of his urgency for Joanne's gaze darted quickly to the phone, and then she slid over to sit between Johnny and the wall.

            "What's going on?" she asked fearfully.

            "I'm not sure."  He cast a quick glance behind him, then returned his attention to Will.  "Just be ready."

            "For what?"  Joanne's voice rose a bit with her anxiety.

            Johnny turned again and could see the fear plainly in her face.  He felt a strong impulse to assure her everything would be all right, but he couldn't lie to her.

            "For whatever might happen," he replied evenly.  "Jo... " His eyes moved once to be sure Will was still on the phone.  The man had stopped talking and Johnny somehow knew they didn't have much time.  "Jo, just be ready to run when I tell you.  Promise me."

            She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then she closed it again, nodding her head mutely, a resolve in her eyes that made Johnny proud of her.  He knew she was scared.  Hell, so was he.  But she wasn't going to fold on him, and that would make his next choices easier.  He managed to find a quick smile for her, but it froze on his face as he saw her eyes widen suddenly.

            Turning, Johnny saw Will let the phone fall from his hands, his features contorted in pure fury.  And it was directed at them.

Part 4