Foundations

Part 4

            Joanne felt like she was reacting one step behind everything that was suddenly happening.  She saw Will's livid face, saw him start towards them, his rifle lifted to his shoulder.  She saw Johnny struggle to his feet, and he reached a hand behind to grab her hand, bringing her up with him, but still shielded behind him.

            It was hard to stand.  Her legs were partially numb, and what feeling she had was hindered by the trembling that was coursing through her entire being.  She held tight to Johnny's hand, knowing the comfort she took from holding onto it was an illusion.  Her mind was screaming at her that they were both going to die.  And in the midst of all that she realized Johnny was talking to her.

            "If you get the chance, Jo, run," he whispered fiercely without turning his head.  He gripped her hand tighter.  "You understand."

            She nodded mutely, even though she couldn't process what he was telling her.  How could she run anywhere?  What did he mean, if she got the chance?  But she had no more time to think.

            "You son of a bitch!" Will shouted as he drew near, his rifle aimed at Johnny's chest.  "You god damned, wife stealing son of a bitch!"

            Joanne felt Johnny's entire body stiffen as Will prepared to fire.  She couldn't help herself.  She moved out from behind the paramedic and held out her hands as if to stop the bullets.

            "No!" she screamed.  "You can't do this!"

            Both men's attention moved to her.

            "Joanne, get back!"

            "It's your fault!" Will accused in a growling tone.  His eyes were flashing with something Joanne couldn't even name.  "You took them from me.  You took everything from me!"

            "She didn't do it, Will," Johnny reminded the man urgently.  "It wasn't her.  She's not Darlene!"  He tried to step in front of Joanne again, but Will swung his rifle around, halting Johnny in mid step.

            "It doesn't matter!" he yelled hoarsely, and Joanne could actually see tears falling down the man's cheeks.  "It's all over now.  They won't let me have my kids.  I'll never see my kids."

            "You don't know that," Johnny said, still trying to reason with Will.  "If you put down the gun and walk out of here..."

            "Don't you get it?" Will screamed.  "They won't let me leave.  That little girl is dead.  I killed her!"

            Joanne's heart froze in her throat.  Somehow he'd found out.  Somebody somewhere had let it slip, and Johnny had been right.  It was too much for him to handle.

            "You don't know that, Will," Johnny persisted.  "You don't know that for sure."

            "But you do!"  Will's face was suffused with rage as he once more pointed the gun at Johnny.  "You knew, didn't you?  You knew all the time!  And you lied to me!  You lied to me!  Everybody lies to me!  And now that kid is dead.  And I'm as good as dead.  And you are too."

            Joanne couldn't keep back the gasp as Will took one more step forward.  But in making that sound, she caused him to turn his head slightly in her direction.  It was the only chance Johnny was going to get and he took it.  He lunged forward, his arms outstretched toward the rifle, catching Will off guard just enough to send both men stumbling backward.

            "Run, Jo!  Run!"

            She stood as if frozen, unable to move, as the two men grappled for control of the gun.  There was no way Johnny could win.  Will was bigger and looked stronger.  And Johnny was exhausted, hungry and injured and already losing out in the struggle.  But he still managed to turn enough to catch her eye.

            "Joanne!  Go!"

            The desperation in his voice broke through her stupor and she was suddenly running.  As much as part of her balked at deserting him; leaving him here alone with this madman, she knew she had to go.  With tears blinding her, she ran.  She knew what he was doing.  She'd seen it in his eyes.  He knew he wouldn't get away.  He knew that both of them didn't have a chance.  He wasn't doing this for them.  He was doing it for her; and for Roy, and for Chris and for Jenny.

            It seemed like she ran forever before she found the door.  There were desks blocking her way and she gave a soft cry of frustration as she fumbled to push them aside.  When she finally was able to open the door, she slipped out side, intent on putting as much distance between herself and the nightmare inside. 

            She didn't know where she was going, she was just running, when suddenly someone grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off the sidewalk.  Before she could even think to scream, she felt herself being pushed down to the ground.

            "Stay down," a man's voice instructed her, and then he was gone.

            Confused, and at the limit of her endurance, Joanne lay there stunned, unsure of what was happening.  She thought there were people around her; people she could hardly see; who blended in with the night.  She couldn't think; she couldn't put the pieces together.

            Then there was suddenly another hand on her shoulder.  Panicked, she whirled at the same time she heard the scratchy voice that she would have recognized no matter what condition it was in.

            "Jo?"

            "Roy?  Oh, God, Roy!"

            And then she was in his arms, her face buried in his chest, her hands clutched around his neck.  He held her close, one hand around her shoulders and the other at the back of her head as he rushed her away from the scene.

* * *

            Johnny felt his arms weakening and knew he wasn't going to last much longer.  Will not only outweighed him, but he had the added strength of his crazed rage.  But as they continued to struggle, each man trying to get the other to lose his grip on the rifle, Johnny knew he only had to last long enough to make sure Joanne got out the door.  He couldn't spare the effort to try and look for her, but he'd been listening, waiting to hear the sound of the door to let him know she'd gotten out and was safe.  That's all that mattered now.  He'd failed Kellie.  He wasn't going to fail Joanne.

            As they shuffled and shoved into desks and chairs, Will somehow managed to get control of the stock end of the gun and shoved it forcefully into Johnny's gut, driving the breath out of the battered paramedic with a painful grunt.  Gasping for air, Johnny somehow managed to keep his hold on the rifle barrel.  Will took advantage of the paramedic's weakness and pushed forward, bending Johnny over backwards.

            With no desks behind him to brace him up, Johnny knew he was going to lose his balance.  If he let Will get him down on the ground, he knew he was finished.  He had no time to think, and he could only pray that Joanne was already out of the room.  He felt himself falling, and he knew Will was letting himself come forward as well, eager to press his advantage.  Hoping the bigger man would be off balance just enough, Johnny lashed out in a desperate attempt to bring Will down with him.

            He hooked his right leg around the other man's left ankle, and jerked hard.  He was rewarded by the brief look of dismay on Will's face as both of them crashed to the floor hard on their sides.

            Johnny felt the impact hard on his shoulder and elbow, but knew he had no time to spare.  In the brief moment that Will lay there stunned, the paramedic scrambled to his feet and headed toward the door.  It was his only chance and the few feet suddenly seemed like a million miles.

            He almost made it.

* * *

            Will couldn't believe that this scrawny ass punk had brought him down.  He'd hit the floor painfully hard, and had lain there for a brief moment, trying to catch his breath and gather his rattled senses.  It was then that he realized the fireman wasn't fighting with him anymore.  Will lifted his head and saw the dark headed young man fleeing toward the door and freedom.

            It wasn't fair.  He'd planned so well, and everything was falling apart.  Watching Johnny's retreating back, Will saw his whole life crumbling away before his eyes.  He couldn't let it happen.  He had to stop it.

            He got clumsily to his feet, scooping up the rifle and bringing it up to bear as he stood up straight.  Darlene was already gone.  While he was fighting with her baby faced lover, she'd gotten away from him.  But he wasn't going to let this wife stealing son of a bitch get away.

            "You bastard!" he screamed, the tears streaming down his face, making it hard to see the running target through the rifle's sight.  "You fucking bastard!"

            And he moved his finger on the trigger, the recoil from the rifle knocking his back into the cluster of small desks behind him.  He only had enough time to smile in satisfaction as he heard the little prick cry out and fall to the floor.  A split second later the doors of the room burst open, and harsh, barking voices were yelling things he couldn't understand.  Will looked up in puzzlement a moment before he felt something slam into his chest and knock him off the desk.

* * *

            Johnny heard Will's deranged curse an instant before the thunder of the rifle.  He couldn't help the strangled cry that erupted from his throat as fire tore through his right leg, knocking it out from under him.  He fell flat onto the hard linoleum, jarring his chin and taking his breath away, but those things he barely noticed.  The only thing he knew was the burning agony in his right thigh.  With his pain blurred senses, he couldn't even feel the rest of his leg.

            He'd treated gun shot wounds before and knew the damage they could inflict, and that knowledge panicked him.  His hand moved feebly to try and feel for the limb, terrified it had been shot off, but suddenly someone was at his side, pinning his hand to the floor and telling him not to move.

            He flinched away from the deep voice, thinking at first that it was Will.  He blinked, trying to clear his vision of the tears and sweat that was blurring it, but all he could see was a dark clad figure with a gun, and it wasn't anyone he knew.

            Confused and in pain, he tried to draw away, but strong hands were holding his shoulders.

            "Let me go," he tried to say, but his voice wasn't working right and the words didn't come out the way he wanted them to.

            "Hang on, buddy," the voice told him.  "We're gettin' ya some help."

            Help?  Yeah, that's probably a good idea, his wandering thoughts agreed.  The pain in his leg was pulsing now in a steady rhythm, increasing with each beat.  He heard himself groan and wondered why his voice sounded so weak.

            "Get the paramedics in here... now!" the voice beside him boomed.

* * *

            Roy held Joanne close, feeling her trembling in his arms as she clung to him.  His mind was still working at sorting out the blurred sequence of events that made up the last few minutes, and that had ended with him standing here on the grass holding his wife.

            It had all happened so quickly.  As the police were getting into position, they'd heard shouting from the classroom, and then the door had been flung open and someone came running out.  In the brief moment when the person had been illuminated from the open door, Roy had seen it was Joanne, but the next moment the door had swung shut, throwing his wife's figure into shadow.  Roy had started forward, hearing Charlie's shout to hold up, but ignoring it.  And then suddenly Joanne wasn't on the sidewalk anymore.  Someone had grabbed her and pulled her into the darkness.

            Roy hadn't stopped to wonder.  He'd merely changed direction.  It could only have been a cop, trying to get Jo to cover, and he rushed to where he'd seen them disappear.  He practically tripped over her in the darkness, but was so relieved at finding her alive and well, that nothing mattered except grabbing her up and getting her to safety.

            It wasn't until they were back on the blacktop, flanked by Dwyer and Carlson, that Roy's thoughts turned to Johnny and what possibly could have happened to send Joanne racing out of the room alone.

            But in the next instant, the blast of a gun rang through the night.  Roy's heart leapt to his throat and Joanne's scream was muffled by his shirt, but she turned in his arms and started to pull away, as if she meant to go back to the classroom.

            "Jo... Jo, hold on... wait..."  He could see the police charging the room.  He kept hold of her arms, trying calm her.  "You can't go in there," he whispered hoarsely.  "You have to wait."

            "But Johnny..."

            Suddenly there was more gunfire; this time many shots in rapid succession.  Roy felt Joanne flinch against him with each shot.  And then suddenly it was quiet.  Roy could hear his own heart beating rapidly and wondered if Joanne could too.  After a long moment, she turned wide, frightened eyes on him.  "Roy, that man... he was going to kill me.  Johnny tried to stop him... told me to run."  She turned to gaze at the now quiet classroom, then looked back at Roy.  "You have to help him... somebody has to help him."

            Almost as if on cue, they heard a shout for paramedics.  Dwyer and Carlson grabbed their gear and raced ahead.  Roy was torn.  A part of him wanted desperately to go with them; to find Johnny; to help him if he was hurt.  But tonight the husband and father in him had been pushed to the edge and right now, all he wanted was to stay with Joanne and reassure himself again and again that she was really here with him, and no one could hurt her without going through him.

            But Joanne didn't seem content to just stay here out of the way.  She pulled back again, looking up into his face.  It was hard to see in the dim lighting, but Roy would just make out the reflection of tears on her cheeks.

            "What if he's hurt?" she asked brokenly.  "He saved my life, Roy.... he saved Chris and Jenny, too."  She let her head drop against his chest, and her next words were barely audible.  "What if he's dead?"

            Her anguish tore at Roy's heart, but he chose to ignore her last words, focusing instead on the positive.

            "Jo... if he's hurt... he's got all kinds of help.  Dwyer and Carlson... and the guys from 36.  They're all in there taking care of him.  He couldn't be in better hands."  Even as he said it, Roy knew a big part of that reassurance was meant for himself.  But he couldn't be two people.  He wouldn't leave Joanne, and he wouldn't put her through the pain of going back into that room.

            "DeSoto?"

            Roy glanced up to see who was shouting his name.  There was a police officer standing at the door to the class, his urgent wave plain to read.  The situation must be bad.

            "They need you in here... and bring the oxygen."

            Roy instantly stepped forward, only to halt, again torn between being a paramedic and a husband.  But Joanne tugged at his arm.

            "Come on, they need you," she said, her voice just ragged enough to let him know this wasn't going to be easy for her, but she was determined to do it anyway.

            Knowing his wife as well as he did, he knew arguing would be a waste of time - time somebody inside the classroom didn't have.  His mind didn't want to admit yet that the person he was going in to help was in all probability his partner - and his friend.  He would deal with that later.  For now, he kept one arm around Joanne, and reached down with the other to pick up the portable oxygen.  Then the two of them headed swiftly over to the open door.

* * *

            The world was spinning in and out of focus for Johnny, and most of what he was aware of was the searing pain still throbbing in his thigh, that had now seemed to spread throughout his entire leg.  But there were other discomforts that he could occasionally localize.  Somehow he'd been turned onto his back, and the glare of the overhead fluorescent lights hurt his eyes.  His shoulder ached and his head was pounding.  There were many voices he couldn't recognize.  They weren't clear, sounding more like they were under water, and they were talking around him and over him.  Hands he didn't know poked and prodded and made him hurt worse, but when he tried to protest, all that he had the energy to utter was a moan that sounded piteously weak even to his own ears.

            "Hang on, Johnny, hang on."

            At last someone was talking to him and he lifted his head to try and locate the voice, but it was too hard to find the one out of many.  He sank back with a weak cough - and then coughed again.

            Another new pain found a name.  His chest hurt.  He felt more coughs that he couldn't stop wracking his already aching lungs, and he wondered why, all of a sudden, it hurt to breathe. 

            The voices above him grew more urgent in their tone, though he still couldn't figure out what they were saying.  Johnny felt a growing sense of panic take hold of him and all he wanted was to get away from these strangers.  He pulled his arms out of their grasp and tried with as much strength as he had left to fight them off.

            "No, no, lemme go..." he groaned, trying to roll away, then crying out at the pain the movement caused his leg, and was seized by another round of coughing, and this time it was even harder to catch his breath.  The pressure on his chest was becoming unbearable.

            And then someone was lifting his head, strapping something around his mouth and nose.  For one nightmarish moment, Johnny thought Will had come over to smother him.  He thrashed his head back and forth, trying to get away from this new torment, when he suddenly heard a vaguely familiar voice among all the strange ones.  He knew it, but there was something not quite right about the sound.

            "Johnny, hold still... you have to calm down.  Try and breathe normally."

            He squinted up and Roy's face swam into view.

* * *

            The small room with children's artwork covering the walls had undergone many changes.  Just this morning it had started out as an ordinary classroom, filled with bright and eager six year olds and their teacher, whose most troubling concern was the spelling test they were taking after lunch.  For the last few hours it had been a prison, filled with fear and dread.  Now it looked like a war zone.  Desks and chairs were scattered and overturned.  Broken glass littered the floor.  And the blood.  It was everywhere; on people's hands and clothes, splattered on the walls and pools of it contrasting starkly with the light colored floor.  Joanne had to work hard not to be ill.

            Over in a far corner, two paramedics she didn't know were working intently on Will.  They had him hooked up to a cardiac monitor and were busy with I.V.'s.  Will himself wasn't moving, his face the same dull gray as the linoleum he was lying on.  Even from this distance, Joanne could see he was bleeding badly from several places.  At one time she thought she might be glad to see him die, but that wasn't happening.  She just felt sick.

            Closer to where she stood, not far from the doorway, Johnny was the center of frenzied activity.  He looked like he only had one bullet wound, but for some reason there was just as much blood as she saw around Will.  The injured paramedic's pant leg had been torn or cut all the way up his leg and Charlie Dwyer was adjusting a band of some kind around Johnny's upper thigh where blood soaked bandages were piled.  Steve Carlson had the biophone propped between his ear and his shoulder, relaying updates to Rampart even as he finished adding another bag of clear looking fluid to Johnny's I.V.  Johnny's mouth and nose were covered by an oxygen mask, and his face was white as paper, but he was still conscious enough to be talking to Roy.

            Joanne's eyes moved to watch her husband.  He knelt at his partner's head, monitoring the oxygen flow, but mostly trying to keep Johnny still.  That's why he'd been called in.  Johnny had been extremely agitated and Dwyer felt Roy might be able to calm him down.  Whether it was because of the plastic mask over his mouth, or because Johnny was so weak, Joanne couldn't really hear anything the younger man was saying, but she could hear Roy.  Her husband's voice, hoarse from his surgery, was keeping up a constant litany of reassurance, telling Johnny he would be okay, not to worry, that everything was all over now.  She could hear the concern in his voice, even as strained as it was, but when her normally reserved husband brushed Johnny's dark, sweat soaked bangs away from his face in a gesture that was so openly affectionate, Joanne couldn't watch any longer.  With her fist to her mouth to stifle the sob that was fighting to escape, she turned and took a few steps away.

            She could still hear them working, hear fragments of Carlson's frequent reports to Rampart.  Though she didn't know the meaning of everything he said, she'd been married to Roy long enough to know Johnny was in bad shape.

            A through and through gunshot wound.

            Joanne didn't have to be a paramedic to know that meant the bullet had gone completely through Johnny's leg.  That meant he was bleeding from two wounds, aside from whatever damage the bullet did internally.

            Femoral artery compromised.

            Another serious problem, and explained the tremendous amount of blood Johnny was losing.

            Possible fractured femur.

            She didn't know if a bullet could break a bone, but it sounded like they were concerned about it.

            Labored breathing and respiratory distress.

            Now she was confused.  She had no clue why Johnny would be having trouble breathing if he was shot in the leg.  She'd have to ask Roy about it later - later, when they were out of this place and home and everything was back to normal.  Except that if Johnny didn't make it - if he died - she didn't know if things could ever be back to normal.

            Behind her, the efforts continued.  She heard, rather than saw the gurney bearing Will Franks taken from the room, the paramedics from 36 following beside it.  A moment after they left,  Johnny groaned softly and began coughing weakly.  If it were possible, the voices of the men working on him grew even more tense.  Joanne took another involuntary step away, as if she could distance herself from the urgent struggle to save Johnny's life.

            She found herself standing in front of a bulletin board.  It only took an instant for her to realize the pictures tacked up there were the family portraits the children had drawn for Open House.  Her eyes scanned them quickly to find Chris'.  She spotted it near the top, saw his crayon scrawled name under the crudely drawn people who weren't much more than glorified stick figures with clothes and hair - yellow for Chris and Jenny, brown for Roy and black for Joanne.  And there between Roy and the over large red fire engine, was another figure with black hair and a big smile - Uncle Johnny, just as Miss Perry had told her.

            Joanne felt the lump in her throat swell, and she couldn't keep the tears from spilling over and running silently down her cheeks.  Impulsively, she reached out, and with shaky hands, removed the tacks and plucked the drawing down from the board.

            "Jo?"

            She turned, almost guiltily, to see Roy beckoning her over.  His worry for Johnny was all too visible on his face.  Joanne hurried over and knelt down next to him, trying not to look at the bloody mess Dwyer and Carlson were working on.  Johnny's head was moving slightly, and he was making sounds Joanne couldn't understand under the oxygen mask.

            "He's pretty out of it," Roy whispered hoarsely, taking her hand and squeezing it.  "But he's been asking for you.  He's worried that you didn't make it... that he couldn't save you."

            Joanne could feel the tears flowing faster at that.  She didn't deserve his concern, but she leaned over into his line of sight.  Whatever it took to reassure him right now she was willing to do.

            "Johnny?" she called softly.

            He turned in her direction, his one eye still puffy, but the other one seeking out who had spoken to him.  He didn't seem to be able to focus on her though and he muttered something under the mask.

            "Jo's right here, Johnny," Roy said.  "She's okay."  He glanced up at her.  "Talk to him.  Let him know you're all right."

            "Johnny... Johnny, I'm right here.  I'm okay.  You don't have to worry about me."

            He stopped his movement and seemed to be listening, but then his brows drew together in a look of confusion.  When he spoke again, Joanne actually heard what he said.

            "No... I didn' do... didn' do anything.  I could... I couldn'... couldn' help her."

            "Johnny, she's right here," Roy began, but Joanne reached out and touched his arm to stop him.

            When he looked up at her again she shook her head sadly.  "He's not talking about me," she whispered brokenly.  "It's Kellie.  He's upset about Kellie."

            Roy face fell as understanding sank in.  Joanne reached out and squeezed his arm, but couldn't find the words she needed.  And then suddenly there wasn't any more time.

            "We gotta go," Dwyer announced brusquely, and waved the ambulance attendants over with the gurney.  "His BP's dropping.  Rampart says not to wait."

            Roy got to his feet and pulled Joanne up with him.  They stood together as Dwyer and Carlson loaded Johnny carefully onto the gurney, piled on his I.V. bags and oxygen tank and then followed as the attendants whisked the injured paramedic out the door.

            Joanne wasn't sure how long they stayed there, unmoving, but was almost startled when she felt Roy's arm drop across her shoulders and he pulled her close.

            "Aren't you going with Johnny?" she asked tentatively.

            He shook his head.  "There's nothing I can do for him right now, and I want to get you and the kids home."

            Joanne let her arms wrap around him tightly for a moment, ashamed that she was selfish enough to be glad he'd made that decision.

* * *

            Kel Brackett was ready and waiting when Dwyer and Carlson pushed the gurney bearing Johnny's pale form through the Emergency room's double doors.

            "Treatment 2," he barked, pleased when the paramedics never even halted their progress.  They merely steered their patient toward Dixie McCall, who stood holding the door open.

            Kel knew they were going to have their work cut out for them.  From everything they'd gotten over the biophone, Johnny was precariously near to bleeding out.  He had other visible wounds, but they could wait.  Replacing his lost fluids and repairing the femoral artery was going to be time critical.  But his staff knew their jobs and they were already going about their various tasks.

            Carol was hanging a unit of plasma that she'd already piggy backed into the I.V. port on Johnny's left arm, adding it to the Ringers solution already started by the paramedics at the scene.  He had a second bag of Ringers going into his right arm as well.

            Dixie was quickly cutting off the injured paramedic's bloody clothes.  Mike Morton was finishing up taking Johnny's vitals.  Carlson was gone, on his way to the lab with the red top they'd drawn for typing and cross matching, but Dwyer hadn't left the room.   The paramedic had merely stepped back out of the way since there were enough hands here to help.  Procedures stated he should be out in the hall, but Kel decided not to push that point for now. He knew how tight these firemen were with each other.

            "His B.P.'s down even more," Mike announced sharply.  "90 over 50.  Pulse is 100.  Respirations are rapid and shallow.  Radial pulse is weak and thready."

            Kel knew the only way now to stop the continued loss of blood was to get Johnny up to the O.R.,  but if they didn't get him stable, he'd never survive surgery.

            "Okay, let's put him into a G suit.  See if we can bring that pressure up and get him breathing better."

            While Mike and Dixie worked to get the inflatable trousers into position, Kel moved over to the phone on the wall, and punched in the extension for Glen Cohen, the vascular surgeon on duty.  The phone rang twice and then was picked up.

            "Cohen," came the friendly voice.  Brackett had always wondered how the man could be so blasted cheerful all the time.  It certainly wasn't something that came naturally to himself.

            "Glen, it's Kel.  I've got one of my paramedics here.  He's been shot in the upper right thigh.  Femoral artery's involved.  Very weak radial pulse."

            "Is he stable?"  The perky tone had changed to a clipped professional one.

            "We're working on it.  He's in a G suit and we're giving him plasma and fluids to bring his B.P. up."

            "What about his femur?" Glen inquired, and Kel could tell he was taking notes on the other end of the line.

            "Possible fracture.  No X Rays yet.  Do you want us to wait?"

            "If his B.P. comes up, then yeah, take the pictures.  If not, don't wait.  Send him upstairs."

            "Right, Glen.  Thanks."

            Kel hung up the phone, then moved back to Johnny's side.  The paramedic's face had gained some color and his eyes were open, well one of them anyway.  The other one was swollen nearly shut.  Brackett glanced up at Mike for the latest on Johnny's vitals.

            "Looking better," the resident reported.  "100 over 80."

            Well, that was good for now.  It looked like the G suit was doing its job, pushing blood back up to his oxygen starved lungs and other organs.  "Dix, get X-ray in here, STAT.  We'll need pictures of that leg."

            "Okay, Kel."  Dixie moved to call for the technician, pausing to give Johnny's shoulder a squeeze as she passed him.

            Brackett turned back to his patient.  "Johnny?  Johnny, can you hear me?"

            "Mmmm... wha?"  The paramedic's head moved and he blinked up at the bright lights.

            "Johnny, it's Dr. Brackett.  You're at Rampart."

            "Ramp..."  Johnny licked his lips and looked like he was trying to focus.  "Doc?"

            "That's right."  Kel gave the younger man a quick smile.  "We're going to take good care of you, so you hang in there, okay?"

            "'Kay."  Johnny's closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and tried to lift his head.  He didn't succeed, and he fell back with a soft groan.  "Jo.. Joanne... she okay?"

            Kel had only heard some of what happened, but he knew Roy's wife wasn't injured or they'd have gotten a call on her as well.

            "She's fine, Johnny.  She's safe."

            "Tha... thas good."  He closed his eyes again and this time they stayed closed.

* * *

            Roy had never felt so drained in his entire life.  After the ambulance had left with Johnny, the police had talked with Joanne for what seemed like hours, finally letting them leave after she'd told them her story at least a hundred different times.

            True to his word, Chet had stayed with the kids and reported that they never made a peep.  They were still sleeping soundly when Cap and the guys from C Shift helped carry them out to the car Chet had borrowed and settled them snugly into the back seat.

            The engine crew had to get back to the station, but Cap took a moment to speak to Roy.

            "You'll let us know, won't you... about John?" he asked, his voice deeply concerned.

            Roy nodded.  "I will, Cap, as soon as I know anything."

            Cap nodded reflectively, then met Roy's eyes and held their gaze.  "Was it bad?  I mean... is John..."

            Roy wished to hell he had something hopeful he could tell this man.  But it wasn't in his nature to lie.

            "Bad enough," he said reluctantly, knowing the rasp in his voice was more from emotion than the soreness of his throat.  He couldn't say any more, but Cap didn't press him.  He merely slapped his shoulder, then moved out into the darkness toward the engine.

            Then, despite his casted arm, Chet insisted on driving them home.

            "You guys have been through enough shi.. uh, crap tonight," he told them, giving Joanne an apologetic smile for his near slip.

            Joanne gave Kelly a kiss on his cheek, which made him blush, and then Roy got to sit holding his wife close while Chet played chauffeur.

            There was little traffic this time of night, and it didn't take long to make the drive home.  Chet waited by the car while Roy and Joanne got the kids into the house and into their beds.  Jenny never woke up, but Chris stirred a bit during the transfer.  He cried out for Joanne, then flung his arms around her neck, until she ended up sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, holding him in her lap.

            Roy waited a few moments to be sure Chris had settled down, then kissed the top of Joanne's head and went back outside to say goodbye to Chet.  The injured fireman looked beat, as Roy was sure they all did tonight.

            "Sure you don't want to flop here for a few hours?" Roy asked.  "Johnny says the couch isn't too bad."And then he realized what he'd said and his heart rose up in his throat.

            Chet wasn't usually the most sensitive of men, but he didn't have to be hit over the head with a two by four either.  He reached out and patted Roy's arm.

            "Hey, man, John'll be okay.  You wait and see.  Besides, he's gotta go out with Judy Tanner, remember?"  He jerked his head toward the car and smiled.

            Roy managed a small chuckle.  "You're right.  And you're gonna be the one to tell him."

            Chet grinned broadly.  "Absolutely."  He walked around to the driver's side and opened the door.  "Guess I'll go give Judy her car back."

            But Roy wasn't fooled.  Judy wouldn't need her car until shift change in the morning.  There wasn't any reason Chet couldn't go home and sleep for a few hours.  They both knew why he was going to Rampart.

            "Call me if... well, you know... I don't care what time it is," Roy trailed off lamely.

            "I sure will," Chet promised, the slid behind the wheel and started up the engine.

            He watched the tail lights disappear down the street, then he turned and headed back into the house where his family was waiting for him.

* * *

            Joanne woke up twice during the night.  Once she jolted awake, thinking she heard Jenny crying.  Roy's arms drew around her, holding her close as her heart slowed from its frightened pounding.  It felt so good to fall back asleep in his protective embrace.  There'd been so many times during her captivity when she feared she would never be able to do this again.

            The second time she woke up, pale light was filtering in through a crack in the curtains.  She squinted at the clock on her night stand.  It was a little after six in the morning.  She turned to see that Roy wasn't in bed beside her, but Jenny was sleeping blissfully in her father's place.

            Joanne smiled at the familiar scenario.  Jenny sometimes wandered into their bedroom wanting to sleep with them.  Joanne usually held firm and escorted their daughter back to bed.  Roy was usually the soft hearted one, but then he also was the one who couldn't sleep next to a small bundle of knees and elbows who managed to take up more space than two full grown adults.

            But as quickly as it came, her smile faded, as she remembered there was good reason for Jenny to want to be with them, and Roy was probably up with far more on his mind than a squirming three year old in his bed.

            She threw back the covers and sat up, shivering a bit at the chill in the room.  Reaching back, she made sure Jennifer was tucked in snugly then pulled on her robe and padded out of the bedroom.  She stopped once to check on Chris, then headed downstairs to find Roy.

            He was standing at the patio door gazing into the back yard, though Joanne knew that wasn't what he was seeing.  He was fully dressed and held a half drunk cup of coffee in his hand.  Joanne came up beside him and slipped her arms around his waist.  His free arm came down around her shoulders and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

            "Good morning," he said hoarsely, his voice barely there.  "You're up early."

            Joanne pulled back a bit to smile up at him.  "I could say the same for you," she answered, and got a slight chuckle in acknowledgment.

            "I couldn't sleep any longer," he admitted. 

            "So what did the hospital say?" she asked, knowing full well that was why he got up.

            Roy took another sip of coffee and grimaced as the warm liquid moved down his raw throat.  Then he shook his head in disgust.

            "Not much," he told her.  "Dixie wasn't on yet, and the damn nurse wouldn't give me any information.  Said I 'wasn't family'."  Roy's gritty voice took on a nasal twang as he imitated the annoying nurse.

            The image of Chris' picture filled Joanne's mind and she had a sudden urge to march down to the E.R., shove the paper under that woman's nose and tell her in no uncertain terms that John Gage was part of their family.  But she figured no one would understand.  They'd just look at her like she'd lost her mind.  Well, maybe she had.

            She gave Roy a tight squeeze, then pulled back and took his mug from his hand.

            "So be sure and call me from the hospital and let me know about Johnny."

            Roy stood there and stared at her blankly for a long moment, then he got that look on his face that she knew so well.  He was going to have to be talked into doing what he knew in his heart he wanted to do.

            "Jo... I can't run off to Rampart and leave you guys here..."

            "You're not running off, " she corrected quietly.  "You brought us home and stayed with us last night.  But we're fine, and your partner needs you now."

            "But Jo..."  Roy still wasn't convinced.  "I don't want you and the kids alone here."

            "Roy DeStoto... I'm alone with these kids for twenty four hours at a time... sometimes longer.  You think I can't handle them while you go down to the hospital?"

            Roy smiled weakly.  "You know that's not what I meant."

            Joanne reached out to hug him around the waist.  "I know you didn't," she told him.  "And that's part of why I love you so much.  But, if it will make you feel better, I'll call Norma in a little while and have her come over to keep us company."

            Roy looked like he might be able to live with that compromise.  Norma Crawford was their neighbor across the street.  She and her husband Frank had been good friends to their family ever since the DeSoto's had moved into the neighborhood.

            "You took care of us," Joanne persisted, feeling Roy needed one last push.  "Now go take care of your partner."

            Roy finally smiled at her, then leaned down to kiss her soundly.  "I love you," he said simply.

            Joanne could see the emotions in his eyes; his love for her and for the kids, the fear for their safety that was only now fading, and the still very real worry for Johnny that continued to haunt him.  It only spoke of his goodness of character that he was torn between trying to be everywhere for everyone he loved and cared about.

            "Someone would have called," she said softly, knowing what was gnawing at him the most right now.  "If things went wrong... well, somebody would have let you know."

            His smile softened and he reached up to brush her cheek with the back of his hand.  And then he turned and walked out the door.

            Joanne watched him go, then sighed heavily as she took his coffee mug into the kitchen and set it down in the sink.  She tried to pretend that her hands weren't trembling as she did so.

* * *

            Rampart's emergency room was nearly always busy.  The staff who worked there never referred to a shift as quiet or slow.  Usually they used terms like hectic, crazy, and occasionally chaotic.  So it was no surprise to Roy to see the waiting room fairly full, even at this early hour of the morning.

            He walked into the E.R. out of more than just habit.  He knew Johnny wouldn't be here.  He'd be up on one of the patient floors, either in a regular room, or more likely, if his condition was as bad as Roy feared, I.C.U.  Judging from what Roy had seen last night, it was more likely the latter.

            He could have gone through the main entrance and asked at the information desk, but he was afraid he'd just get more run around like he had on the phone earlier.  Sometimes the people who manned these stations got too stuck on what the rules were.  They never took into account that someone could be just as important to you as a member of your own family.  They were too hung up on being related by blood.

            He knew, even if he'd been able to talk for more than a few minutes without losing his voice, that he'd never have been able to explain to the woman on the phone that all the guys at the station were Johnny's family; that he had no "blood" relatives close by except for his aunt in Santa Barbara; that Roy was Johnny's partner, and that relationship should probably be listed right up there next to brother.

            No, he would have been wasting his breath.  And so this morning he stepped through the automatic doors looking for someone he knew; someone who had a better grasp on the realities of life and knew you couldn't always find them in a book of policies and regulations.  He was looking for Dixie.

            She was there at the nurses' station, and she lifted her head to smile at him as if she knew he was coming.  In spite of her pleasant expression, she looked a little more tired than usual.  There was a weariness around her eyes, and Roy knew at once that she'd stayed after hours last night to be here when Johnny came in.  In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't even gone home yet.  It would be like her.  She had a certain affection for all the paramedics she'd helped train and worked with on a daily basis, but sometimes Roy felt the nurse held a special fondness for his happy-go-lucky partner; almost as if he were that little brother who could have you pulling your hair out one minute, then turn around and do something extraordinarily loveable the next.  It was the kind of relationship Roy had always felt Joanne could have with Johnny if she would only give him half a chance.

            Roy only had experience with sisters; had been the "man of the house" since his father died when Roy was 14.  He loved his younger sisters, was proud of them and the fact that he had contributed in some small degree to them turning out to be the sweet, caring women they were today.  But he had always felt he'd missed out by not having another male in their household during those years after their dad passed away; someone he could talk to, kid around with, share some of the worries he would never burden his mother or the girls with.

            His wife had lost her younger brother, had had him taken away violently and unexpectedly one crisp fall morning.  Roy had known Bradley since he was a little kid.  He was three years younger than Joanne and at first had been an annoying tag along.  But by the time Roy and Joanne were in High School and had started dating, Roy had actually grown to like Brad.  He was a friendly kid who could chatter a mile a minute and loved any kind of sport.  Roy could remember spending many afternoons tossing a football around with him while waiting for Joanne to get ready for where ever they were going.  When the twelve year old was hit by the car on his way to school one morning, Roy had been nearly as devastated as Brad's own family.

            He could still recall vividly being at the funeral, sitting with his arm around Joanne and feeling her shoulders shake with grief.  He'd managed to hold back his own tears.  After all, hadn't he learned that past year that a man had to be strong for those he loved and not show weakness around them?  But it had taken a long time before Roy stopped looking for the boy whenever he came over to Joanne's house.  And he knew she had missed her little brother acutely for many years.

            He wasn't sure why he was thinking about this now.  Brad had been dead for nearly thirteen years, and Roy wasn't usually the type to get overly introspective or dwell on things he couldn't change.

            Was it just the emotional upheaval of the last twelve hours that had him suddenly thinking of things he'd thought long buried?  Was it the turmoil and uncertainty of having his wife and children in danger and knowing there was nothing he could do about it?  Was it because Johnny had put his own life on the line to protect Roy's family?  Was it that he only now realized how much of a friend Johnny had become and the thought of losing him wasn't a possibility Roy wanted to consider?  Or was it because Johnny was about the same age Joanne's dead brother would have been; had the same dark hair and outgoing personality, and Roy could see too clearly what this man could be to both him and Joanne, only now they might not get the chance?

            All these thoughts flitted through his mind in a brief moment, and he knew he wouldn't be able to answer them without giving them a great deal of thought.  So he took a deep breath and tried his best to return Dixie's smile of greeting.

            "Hey, Dix," he whispered hoarsely, chuckling at the pained expression on her face at the sound of his gravelly voice.

            "Does it feel as bad as it sounds?" she asked sympathetically.

            Roy shrugged and made a wiggling motion with his hand to indicate "more or less."  Then he went straight to the point.

            "How's Johnny?"

            Dixie's smile didn't fade, but it grew more thoughtful.  "He's doing pretty well, all things considered.  He came through surgery okay, but he's still pretty out of it."

            Roy looked around.  "I was kind of expecting Chet to call me.  He said he would."

            Dixie chuckled.  "Don't get mad at Chet.  He said since the news was good you might as well get a good night's sleep."

            Roy understood Kelly's logic, but it would have been nice to know anyway.  He turned back to Dixie.  "Can I see Johnny?"

            Dixie nodded.  "He won't be much company, but yeah, I think that can be arranged."  She stood and walked out from behind the station.  "C'mon, I'll take you up there and run interference in case anybody objects."

            Roy chose to save his voice and settled for smiling his thanks.  He followed Dixie into the elevator.  As Roy had anticipated, they headed for I.C.U.  His face must have shown his apprehension, for Dixie hastened to reassure him.

            "Dr. Cohen just wanted him here for the next twenty four hours or so... just to keep a better eye on him until we know the circulation in his leg is going to stay stable."

            As they approached the door that led into the Intensive Care Unit, Dixie took hold of Roy's arm and stopped.

            "He really is very lucky, Roy.  That bullet could have shattered his femur.  It came close.  Dr. Cohen removed a few chips, but he didn't think it would be a problem."

            Roy nodded grimly at the news as he followed Dixie into the unit.  He was glad she was with him.  The nurse on duty merely nodded at their presence as they walked past several heavily monitored patients and found the cubicle Johnny was in.

            Roy had been a corpsman in the army, and a paramedic for over a year.  He thought he was pretty used to hospitals and seeing people who were critically ill or injured.  But he supposed it was never the same when it was someone you knew and cared about lying in the bed hooked up to all the tubes and machines.  He cringed inwardly at the sight of his normally energetic partner looking so battered and helpless.

            He realized he hadn't moved when he felt Dixie come up and softly squeeze his arm.

            "I have to get back to work.  They won't kick you out, but don't stay too long."

            He nodded and heard her start to leave when he turned.

            "Dix?"

            The nurse paused and looked back expectantly.

            "The uh... the other guy.  The one with the gun..."

            Dixie shook her head slightly.  "He didn't make it.  He was gone before 36 could get him here."

            With that she started off again.  Roy listened as her footsteps faded down the end of the room.  So the man who'd caused all the hurt and pain and death was dead himself.  For some reason Roy thought that should make a difference, but it didn't.  He supposed it was just one more thing for him to ponder when he felt like delving into deeply philosophical questions.

            He took a steadying breath and walked over to sit down in the lone chair next to Johnny's bed.  The paramedic in him couldn't help but take silent inventory of his partner's injuries.

            The most critical, of course, was his right leg.  The sheet and blanket that covered Johnny  had been pulled back so his leg was uncovered and could rest slightly elevated on a row of pillows, and his thigh was swathed in bandages.  Roy ran a critical eye over the injured limb all the way down to his partner's long toes and was satisfied that their color was good.  Cohen was Rampart's best vascular surgeon, and he'd obviously done a good job repairing Johnny's artery.

            His gaze moved back up to Johnny's face.  It had been obvious last night that the paramedic had been roughed up, but the light hadn't been good enough to see the extent of the damage.  The right side of Johnny's face was bruised and discolored.  His eye was visibly swollen and there was a dressing on his cheek that must have covered the gash Roy could remember seeing.  He wondered idly how many stitches it had taken to close the wound.

            There were several I.V. bags hanging from the stand on the other side, at least one of them containing blood products.  It was reasonable to assume Johnny would still need a boost in that regard considering how much he'd lost last night.

            Roy leaned back in his chair.  Johnny was still asleep and would likely remain so for a good while.  He was probably medicated to the gills, and as Dixie had said, wouldn't be much company.  But Roy didn't care.  He'd had plenty of chances to have conversations with Johnny; sometimes more than he wanted.  He grinned slightly at that thought; the memories of the many hours he'd spent listening to the world according to John Gage, then the grin widened as it finally hit home that he would still have that pleasure for many more hours to come.

* * *

            It took a long time for Johnny to realize he was awake.  He didn't know how long he'd lain there in that soft, gauzy place that wasn't sleep and yet wasn't full awareness.  It was a warm and comfortable state, one he could have stayed in for a very long time.  But it was an illusive place as well, and one he couldn't hold onto.  He blinked and was suddenly laying on stiff cotton sheets on an almost comfortable bed.

            As he waited for his vision to clear, he became aware of a low, rhythmic beeping noise and a muted voice with an echo quality that sounded far away.  He slowly realized that the dim, gray patterned field he was staring at was square ceiling tiles.  He blinked again and the small holes in them came into focus.

            He moved his head to one side and winced a bit.  The whole right side of his face hurt.

            "Johnny?"

            The voice was low and hoarse, but he still had no problem recognizing it.

            "Hey... hey, Roy."

            Johnny's own voice sounded strange to his ears.  Weak and strained.  He cleared his throat and there was suddenly a straw held up to his mouth.  He sipped and found it was cool soothing water.  When he was through and Roy returned the glass to the tray beside the bed, Johnny frowned at his partner.

            "I.. I thought you were the one in the hospital."

            Roy smiled.  "Yeah, well they let me out for good behavior.

            Johnny tried to smile back, but for some reason didn't have enough energy.  He barely got one corner of his mouth quirked up.  "Jus'... jus' shows ya how much they know."  He closed his eyes, amazed at how tiring just talking could be, but he still heard Roy's gravelly chuckle.

            "You may be right this time," his partner admitted.  "Chet and I did sort of pull a fast one on 'em."

            Johnny wasn't quite sure what Roy was talking about, so he didn't say anything.  It was quiet for a time, with only the sound of what Johnny now realized was a heart monitor to break the stillness.  He considered going back to sleep, in fact had almost drifted off, when Roy spoke again.

            "Johnny?"

            "Hmmm?"

            "I... I just wanted to say... well, to tell you thanks.  Jo told me a little bit about what went on in that classroom.  I know you kept her safe.  Hell, you kept 'em all safe."

            Johnny was still a little hazy and the words didn't mean much at first.  But as Roy continued his self-conscious  attempt to try and let his partner know how grateful he was, the fog in his brain started clearing.  It was still patchy but some things began to fall back into place in Johnny's memory.

            He remembered the sound of gunshots and children screaming, and he remembered blood and a little girl's angelic face.  Roy's words echoed hollowly in his ears.

            You kept 'em all safe.

            But he hadn't.  No matter what Roy was telling him, or what Joanne might have said, Johnny knew Roy wasn't telling it right.

            I didn't do anything.  I didn't help her.  I couldn't help her.

            He turned his head away from Roy, trying to shut out all the things his partner was saying about him that Johnny knew he didn't deserve.  As he did so, he must have shifted slightly and couldn't help the groan that rose out of him as a stab of intense pain shot up his leg.

            "Johnny?"  Roy's voice croaked out his concern as the paramedic rose out of his chair and moved closer to the bed.  "Johnny, you okay?"

            But Johnny was spared answering.  A nurse was suddenly at his side, checking his vitals and adjusting the drip on his I.V.  Normally, Johnny would have hated the fussing, but right now he was grateful.  He heard the nurse telling Roy firmly that the patient needed to rest.  Roy said something back, but Johnny couldn't quite hear him.  That was when he realized his meds had been increased and he was going out for a nice long sleep.  That was fine by him.  That way at least Roy wouldn't worry about why Johnny hadn't responded to what he'd been saying to him.  He never heard the soft goodbye his partner gave before he left the room.

* * *

            Joanne stepped out of the elevator and walked slowly down the hallway, her stomach fluttering, which she knew was a silly reaction, but one she couldn't help nonetheless.  All she was doing was coming to the hospital to visit Johnny.  Not something that should be this nerve wracking, but Joanne still felt as uncertain as the new kid at school.  She knew full well why she was feeling this way.  It had been three days since the incident at the school and this was the first time she'd ventured to Rampart.

            Of course, she knew how Johnny was doing.  Roy had only started back to work this morning and so had spent quite a bit of time here keeping his partner company during the last few days.  Roy talked a lot about how well Johnny was healing physically, that the doctors were very happy with his recovery.  But Roy had also confided to Joanne that he was worried about Johnny's emotional state; that the injured paramedic was reluctant to talk about the shooting.  In fact, Roy told her that Johnny didn't seem to want to talk about much of anything - a huge red flag in Roy's book.  He'd mentioned his concerns to Dr. Brackett, but the physician credited it to the shock and trauma Johnny had undergone and seemed confident it would pass with time.

            But Roy wasn't satisfied with that explanation.  The school had sent counselors to their home to help the kids talk about what had happened.  They'd even had a long session with the whole family, getting Roy and Joanne to express some of their feelings in front of Chris and Jenny, so the children knew that it was okay to feel scared or to have bad dreams, or to be sad about what had happened to Kellie.  It had helped them all and Roy thought Johnny could probably benefit from the same kind of experience, only he wasn't willing to open up with anyone.  Roy felt strongly that Joanne might be the one to get through to Johnny since they'd both gone through the ordeal together.  He'd asked her if she would mind giving it a try.  As much as the thought of having a heart to heart with Johnny sent a wave of uncertainty through her, she reluctantly agreed.

            There really wasn't any reason why she hadn't gone with Roy to visit Johnny earlier.  Although she'd easily convinced her husband that it would be easier on the kids if she just stayed home with them, rather than worry about a babysitter, Joanne knew she was taking the coward's way out.  She knew she'd put off facing Johnny for as long as she could because she felt guilty about the way she'd treated him all this time.  He'd willingly risked his life for her and for her children and that made her feel horribly ashamed.

            So here she was on her way to his room.  Chris had gone back to school.  Miss Perry had come to the house yesterday and had a long talk with him about how they were getting a nice, new classroom and how much she was looking forward to seeing him at school again.  Joanne had dropped him off this morning, watching him wave goodbye with a happy smile on his face.  She supposed she was having a harder time letting him go than he was in going.  Jenny was staying at Norma's this morning and had done nothing but chatter about how they were going to make cookies and how she wanted to make some for Uncle Johnny so he would feel better.  That freed Joanne up to make her visit.

            She noted the numbers on the rooms and knew she was nearing Johnny's.  He'd been out of I.C.U. since yesterday, but would probably have to stay in the hospital at least four or five more days.  She didn't suppose that was helping his mood any either.  One thing she did know about Johnny was that he hated being in the hospital.  She didn't blame him for that.  Hospitals weren't her favorite place either.

            As she reached Johnny's room, she was startled to hear the sound of laughter coming out of the open door.  She paused before he would have been able to see her.  He must have company.  She could hear both a man and a woman's voice.  She also noticed that they seemed to be doing most of the talking.  She only heard Johnny occasionally and his voice was low enough that she couldn't make out what he was saying.  Curiosity overcame her manners.  Knowing she was acting like a child, she peeked around the corner to try and see who Johnny's visitors were.

            Johnny was in the bed closest to the door.  He was lying with his foot still elevated, but someone had brought him regular pajamas instead of a hospital gown.  A tall, nice looking man stood on the side of the bed and a small pretty woman with long, reddish brown hair sat in the chair.  The man was in the middle of some story that involved a motorcycle and was smiling broadly as he related the apparently hair raising details.  The woman was smiling indulgently, as if she'd heard it many times before.  Johnny was listening and every now and then Joanne could hear him make a scoffing comment that would make both people laugh, and Johnny himself smile.  Joanne didn't know who this couple was, but there was a comfort level in the room that spoke of an old friendship.

            She heard Johnny call the man Drew, but that name had no familiarity for Joanne, and it suddenly struck her that this could have been her and Roy here passing the time with their friend, cheering him up and making him smile when he hadn't been able to find much to smile about lately.  It should have been.  And when the woman got up and leaned forward to place an affectionate peck on Johnny's cheek, Joanne felt not only a stab of jealousy that she knew was totally uncalled for, but also a pang of regret for what she might have had; for what she'd probably lost the chance of having.

            She drew away from the door.  It looked like Johnny's friends were getting ready to go, and Joanne didn't want to be standing here like an idiot when they did.  Plus she couldn't see Johnny now; not the way she was feeling.  She had to have some time to collect herself.

            She walked back down the hallway and back into the elevator.  She wasn't sure where to go - perhaps the cafeteria.  She could grab a cup of coffee and take a moment to pull herself together.  That way when she went in to visit Johnny he wouldn't know how rattled she was.  After all, the whole purpose of her visit was to help him feel better.  Not make him wonder and worry that he'd upset her.

            But she didn't end up in the cafeteria.  For some reason, she found herself strolling into the E.R.  She wasn't sure why.  Maybe on the off chance Roy would be here.  Or maybe not.  She wasn't sure he would understand what she was feeling right now if she shared it with him.  Roy was usually a very good listener, but they still occasionally ran up against things they saw differently just because they were a man and a woman and had different perspectives.

            She knew Roy had never quite understood why it was exactly she hadn't been able to warm up to Johnny.  Certainly he knew his partner had his quirks.  He himself came home occasionally exasperated by something Johnny had said or done.  But it was never a big enough problem to get in the way of forming a fast friendship.  Roy had never criticized Joanne for not welcoming Johnny into their home with open arms, but she knew he had never figured out why she'd been reluctant to do so.

            And now Joanne wasn't sure either.  All the reasons she'd told herself didn't quite ring true anymore.  And in searching for the genuine answers, she was coming up with some truths about herself that she didn't like very much.

            As she approached the nurses' station, she slowed to see if Dixie might be on duty.  In the year that Roy had been a paramedic, Joanne had gotten to know the head nurse fairly well and had a great deal of admiration and respect for her.  Maybe Dixie might be willing to listen and give some advice - woman to woman.

            Dixie was there, but she was talking to someone.  A young woman who looked like she might be pretty if she wasn't so sad.  Her copper hair was pulled back into a plain ponytail, and her face was pale and without makeup.  Her eyes bore the distinct redness of someone who had been crying.

            Joanne's eyes narrowed a bit.  This sorrowful woman looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she might know her from.  But she didn't have time to ponder it very long for at that moment, Dixie glanced up and caught sight of Joanne.  She gave her a tight smile and held up her hand, indicating she'd be right with her.

            The red headed woman glanced over to see who the nurse was looking at and gave Joanne the same curious look she'd just been unknowingly subject to.  But recognition dawned on this woman's face before it ever struck Joanne.

            "Hi," she greeted softly, then added, "you're Chris' mom, right?"

            Joanne quickly put a few things together.  She knew this woman from school.  Most parents knew each other casually, from chatting in the few minutes they waited to pick up their kids.  So you never really knew anyone's first names.  You were just so and so's mom.  So this woman had a child in Chris' class.  And she was here at Rampart.  And she'd been crying.  At the same time Joanne noticed the small, clear bag that contained a few items of children's clothing, she realized who this woman was.  Who she could only be.

            "I'm so sorry about Kellie," Joanne offered kindly, taking a step closer.

            The woman gave a weak smile.  "Thanks."

            There was an awkward moment, then Dixie stepped in and introduced them.

"This is Joanne DeSoto," she told Kellie's mother, then glanced at Joanne.  "This is Janet Andrews."

            Joanne nodded her thanks for Dixie's sensitivity.  "Chris is going to miss Kellie.  He liked her a lot."  Feeling like this poor woman might need to hear something positive at the moment, Joanne continued.  "In fact, he told me Kellie was the best girl in the class because she never tried to boss the boys around."

            Joanne was rewarded by seeing Janet's smile widen a bit.  "No, she wasn't a bossy child.  She was always the peacemaker for her little brothers.  They don't really understand what's happened, but they're going to miss her a lot..."  She paused, her voice breaking, but she didn't cry.

            "How are you doing?" Joanne asked with concern.

            Janet shrugged helplessly and wiped at her eyes.  "I don't know really... it's still just too hard to even believe."  She gestured to the bag in her hand.  "I just came down today to pick up Kellie's things... I... I just..."  She trailed off and Dixie moved to put an arm around the woman's shoulder.  Janet leaned into the embrace as if it took too much energy to stand on her own, but she didn't break down.  Instead, she began talking again.  "I didn't get to say goodbye, you know.  That's one of the hardest things.  I don't know what she was doing or what she was feeling.  I think I could get through if only... if I could know that she wasn't afraid.  If I knew she wasn't alone."

            Inspiration hit Joanne and Dixie at the same time.  Their eyes met and Dixie nodded her support and approval.  Joanne wasn't sure if she'd have been bold enough to go on without it.

            "Janet... I don't know how much you know about what went on that night, but there was a paramedic there... with Kellie.  John Gage... Johnny... my husband's partner."

            The woman nodded.  "The police told me he was the one who brought Kellie outside."

            "Yes."  Joanne felt her jaw working at the memory of Johnny convincing Will to let him take the dead child out.  She had to work to keep her voice even.  "He... he took care of Kellie after she was... hurt.  There really wasn't much he could do, but he tried his best.  He... he was with her the whole time... he might... well, you might want to talk to him."

            Janet's face broadcast her indecision.  Her eyes moved between Joanne and Dixie, until Dixie stepped in and added her encouragement.

            "I think it might help," she suggested quietly.  "And I think it might do that paramedic a world of good too."

            The woman's eyebrows lifted curiously, and Joanne found her voice again.

            "He's blaming himself," she told the bereaved mother.  "He thinks he should have been able to help her."  She reached out and placed her hand on Janet's arm.  "But he's wrong.  There was nothing he could do except what he did.  Janet, he held her 'til she... 'til she passed.  He talked to her and kept her warm.  He would be able to tell you what you need to know."

            There were tears now running down Janet's face.  Joanne brushed at a few of her own.  Then Dixie prompted the woman in her arms forward.

            "C'mon," she urged.  "I'll take you up to his room."

            The two women headed toward the elevators.  Joanne watched them go until they disappeared inside one of the cars.  Then she took a shuddering breath, hoping she'd done the right thing.  Then she headed off toward the cafeteria.  She needed that cup of coffee.  And Johnny and that poor woman would need the time.

* * *

            Johnny lay in his bed watching Password.  He was only half interested in it, but it was better than having those endless soap operas on and he didn't want complete silence.  He liked the droning.  It kept the accusing voices out of his head.  And occasionally a contestant or celebrity would do something dumb enough to bring a slight smile to his face.

            It had been nice that Drew and Pam came to visit him.  Drew had ribbed him a lot about thinking he was a cop and how if he'd gotten tired of playing it safe as a paramedic, Drew could always put in a good word for him on the force.  It was a long standing game they played - each trying to prove his job was the most dangerous.  For once, Johnny had to agree that he had no desire to face another guy with a gun.

            Drew then launched into some exaggerated tale of his exploits as a motorcycle cop that managed to lift Johnny's spirits.  He and Drew had spent many hours riding their bikes together, but Drew was always the more serious rider, and a few months ago had gotten accepted into the motorcycle division of the Sheriff's Department.  Johnny knew Pam wasn't overjoyed.  She worried, as all wives do, about her husband's safety.  But Drew was ecstatic, and though Johnny knew most of his friend's on duty time was spent writing traffic tickets, he didn't feel the need to point that out while Drew was in the middle of a harrowing story.

            But now they were gone, and Johnny had sunk back into that depressing introspection that did nothing for him except tell him he had failed, that his life and work meant nothing.

            I spent all those months training to be a paramedic... spent the past year thinking I'm making a difference out there.  But it's all a lie.  When you cut right to the chase, I didn't do a damn thing but sit there and watch Kellie Andrews die.

            There was a part of him that was more practical - that told him he was feeling sorry for himself, but he did his best not to listen.  It was easier not to.

            There was a slight knock on the open door and Johnny looked away from the television to see Dixie standing there with a woman Johnny didn't know.

            "Hey, Dix," Johnny greeted curiously.

            "Hi, Johnny.  How are you feeling?"

            Johnny shrugged.  His leg still hurt like hell at times, but the doctor told him that was normal.  He tried not to ask for too much pain medication.  He hated that spaced out, groggy feeling they gave.

            "Okay, I guess," he answered vaguely.

            Dixie nodded knowingly.  "Uh huh," she responded, then smiled her understanding.  "I brought you a visitor," she told him, inclining her head toward the woman beside her.  "This is Janet.  I think you two might have a lot to talk about."

            Johnny watched Dixie give the woman's arm an encouraging squeeze, then she left the room.  He turned his attention to his visitor, wondering who she was and why she was here.  She wasn't dressed like a nurse, and as she stepped closer, he could see the traces of dried tears on her face.

            "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked timidly and Johnny shook his head.

            "No.  Go right ahead."

            She scooted the chair up closer to the bed, then gave him a watery smile.  "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," she said with a nervous chuckle.  "Actually, I'm kind of wondering that myself."  Her face grew serious again.  "My name is Janet Andrews.  I was told that you... well, I understand you were with my daughter... with Kellie... when she died."

* * *

            Joanne absently stirred some cream into her third cup of coffee.  She glanced at the large clock on the wall and realized she'd been sitting here for nearly two hours.  She really didn't have a lot more time to spend here.  Soon she would need to go pick Chris up from school, and she should probably call Norma and let her know she was going to be later than she'd planned on. 

            She got up and took her cup to the window for dirty dishes.  There really wasn't anything else to do now except to go back up to the fourth floor.  If Janet was still there, Joanne would just go home and come back another time.  If not - well, she'd just have to go in and see if her idea had helped at all or if she'd just given Johnny one more reason to think she hated him.

            Her mind made up, she didn't waste any more time.  She took the elevator ride, then got off and walked purposefully down the hall.  She didn't hear any voices this time, so she stepped into the door way, hoping Johnny was awake.

            He looked better than he had at the school.  The swelling in his eye had gone down, though he had the biggest shiner she'd ever seen.  There was a bandage on his cheek, but the bruises on his face had faded a bit.  And when he turned to see who his new visitor was, his eyes were bright and alert.

            "Hey, Joanne," he greeted, rather shyly she thought.  "What are you doing here?"

            To Joanne, that seemed the saddest thing of all.  That he had to ask why she would want to visit him.

            "I just... well, I wanted to see you.  To see how you were doing.  I... I hadn't gotten a chance yet, so..."  Her voice trailed off as she made her lame excuses, but Johnny didn't seem to find them that way.

            "I know," he told her with a slightly crooked smile.  "I know the kids keep you busy."

            "Yeah, well..."  She shrugged sheepishly.  "It wasn't the kids really.  I guess I was afraid to come and see you."

            Johnny's eyebrows raised.  "Afraid?  Why?"

            She shrugged again.  This wasn't easy for her, but she'd decided she had to clear the air between them and that meant total honestly.  "I... I haven't been very nice to you in the past, Johnny."  She held up her hand to stop his protest.  "No.  You and I both know I haven't.  And... and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for that."  She looked up and met his dark brown eyes, feeling tears well up in her own.  "I am so sorry, Johnny.  I never... I guess I never really gave you a chance."  She let her eyes fall to the bedspread as she tried to control the tears.

            "Joanne..."

            She felt his hand on hers and glanced up again to see him smiling.  "It's okay... really.  You don't have to..."

            "Yes, I do," she insisted.  "But more than apologize... I wanted to try and let you know why.  So you'd know it wasn't you.  It was me."

            He looked confused, so she took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

            "You know Roy and I got married pretty young."  Johnny nodded his acknowledgment.  "Did you know we've known each other since we were in fourth grade?  That we never really dated anybody else?"

            "Fourth grade?  Really?"

            Joanne smiled at his incredulous expression.  "Really," she assured him.  "And because of that... well, I just... let's just say I never have to worry about any of Roy's old girlfriends showing up in our lives.  I am Roy's old girlfriend."

            Johnny laughed at that and Joanne felt a little more at ease.

            "So here I am, comfortable with my life, comfortable with my family, and suddenly Roy gets a new partner."

            "Me," Johnny supplied drolly.

            "Not just you, Johnny," Joanne corrected.  "A very single, you.  And not just that.  Roy's had bachelors for partners before.  But you two hit it off so fast and so well.  And that scared me."

            "But why?" Johnny asked, his face puzzled.

            "Because of the life you live and the things you do, and the fact that you don't have two kids you're responsible for, or a house payment, or a car payment..."

            "I have a car payment, Joanne," Johnny pointed out.

            Now it was Joanne's turn to laugh.  "Well, you know what I mean."

            "Yeah, I do," Johnny admitted.  "You were afraid Roy would start wondering what he missed."

            Joanne shrugged again, this time in embarrassment.  "Well, you have to admit, with the stories about you..."

            "Stories?"  Johnny's voice rose an octave.  "What stories?"

            Joanne stared at him for a moment, but he seemed sincerely surprised.  Surely he knew he had a reputation for being a lady's man.

            "Well..." she stammered, a bit unsure of how to say this.  "Just from things Roy's told me... and what some of the other guys' wives say... well, everybody talks about how much you chase the nurses here at Rampart."

            She couldn't read the expression on Johnny's face; didn't know if she'd offended him.  But he finally broke eye contact and let his gaze move up to stare at the ceiling.

            "I think chase is the operative word here, Joanne," he said slowly, then turned to look at her again.  This time his face was almost wistful.  "I don't suppose any of those stories talk about catching any of the nurses?"

            Joanne shook her head.  "Well, no... as a matter of fact..."

            "That's because there's nothing juicy to talk about," Johnny completed.  He clasped his hands behind his head and grew thoughtful.  "I tell ya, Joanne... I can understand why you'd be worried, but you don't have to be.  I have a hard enough time convincing girls to give me the time of day, without trying to get them interested in my partner."  He turned his head to look at her.  "I would never do that to you anyway," he told her in all sincerity.

            Joanne relaxed and smiled.  "I know that now.  I think I just let my own insecurities get the best of me."

            They both fell silent, but the quiet wasn't awkward this time.  Finally though, Joanne spoke up again.  "So, tell me truthfully... how are you doing?"

            Now it was Johnny's turn to shrug.  "I dunno.  Okay, I guess.  It's been hard to get some things straight, but I..."  He paused and gave her a scrutinizing look.  "You sent Janet in here."  It wasn't a question and Joanne never bothered denying it.

            "It just seemed like a good idea," she admitted.  "She needed to hear things that only you could tell her."

            "And I needed to hear from her that she didn't blame me for her daughter's death," Johnny concluded softly.  He took a deep breath and gave Joanne a grin.  "You're a sneaky woman, Joanne DeSoto."

            Joanne laughed out loud, and it felt good to do so.  "That's what Roy tells me, too."  She was quiet for a moment again, then another thought occurred to her.  "I want you to know, Johnny, when the doctors let you out of here... well, if you need a place to..."  She laughed a little at her own stammering.  "What I'm trying to say, Johnny, is that you're more than welcome to stay with us for  a while... til you get back on your feet."

            Johnny gave her a long look, then smiled; not that cheeky grin he used so often, but a genuine, warm smile.  "Thanks, Joanne," he said softly.  "I appreciate that."

            And with that, there was no more awkwardness between them.  All Joanne's nervousness was gone.

            They talked for a bit more, then Johnny yawned widely.  Joanne took that as her cue to go.  He was still recuperating and needed his rest.  It had been an emotionally draining day.  She stood, but paused and regarded him critically.

            "What?" Johnny asked, seeing her studying him.

            She smiled.  "I was just thinking.  Maybe if you let your hair grow longer..."

            Johnny's hand flew to the top of his head.  "Whaddya mean?"

            "Well, I was thinking maybe the ladies think you're too young.  To a woman, that translates into immature.  You need a different look... something they'll go for in a big way."

            "And longer hair will do that?"

            Joanne shrugged.  "You never know.  Take it from me though, some women really go for longer hair."

            Johnny looked like he was mulling it over, then he suddenly shot her a questioning glance.  "Take it from you?"

            Joanne's smile grew wider.  "Why do you think Roy's hair's been growing out?  It's taken me a long time, because Roy's a little sensitive about..." Joanne lowered her voice and pointed to the back of her head, "the Spot."

            Johnny actually giggled, a sound that filled Joanne's heart with warmth.

            "We don't talk about that much," she laughed., "but I was finally able to convince him to let it grow out... at least a little.  Haven't you noticed that it's longer than it was?"

            Johnny favored her with an odd look.  "Well, I don't exactly spend my time at the station staring at Roy's hair."

            Joanne rolled her eyes and laughed.  "Well, anyway, you have much more hair than Roy does.  Yours could really take off."

            Johnny's hand started rubbing at his dark hair and a big grin was growing on his face.  "You really think so?"

            "It's worth a try," Joanne offered.  "You can always cut it off, if it doesn't work.  But who knows?  It may do the trick."  She started for the door, but turned once more.  "At the very least, maybe Roy will stop calling you Junior."

            "Jo-anne!  How do you know... Joanne, come back here!"

            She laughed as she heard his voice calling after her down the hall.

* * *

            Roy found himself smiling as he got out of his car and made his way up the driveway. His first shift back had gone smoothly. His temporary partner wasn't a bad guy to work with, though Roy would be happier once Johnny was able to return to duty.

          Thinking of his partner, his real partner, made Roy's smile broader. He'd stopped by Johnny's room last night after a run, and found the younger man in much better spirits than the last time Roy had seen him. Roy wondered if maybe he should invite Johnny to come stay with them after he was released. He'd need some help getting around for a while and it made sense to be where someone could offer that help. He wasn't sure though of how Joanne would react to the thought of having one of her least favorite people underfoot for an extended period of time. He'd have to wait and see what kind of a mood she was in.

          He walked into the house and took in the wonderful aroma of pancakes and sausage, with the smell of coffee brewing added into the mix. He loved coming home to his family like this. Chris would be up and dressed, sitting at the table eating, his lunch box packed and waiting for him on the counter. Jennifer, as usual, was just getting up, her sleepy face and pillow tossed hair a lovely sight as he found her coming down the stairs.

          "Hey, pumpkin," he greeted and swept her up into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen.

          "Morning, Daddy," she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

          "Hey, Chris." He set Jenny down in her seat and leaned over to ruffle his son's hair.

          "Dad!" Chris protested. "Mom just combed it."

         "Sorry, 'bout that," he apologized. He moved over to the stove to give Joanne a welcoming hug and kiss her cheek. "How's it going?" he asked.

         "Great," she told him with a smile. "I've got your breakfast ready. You want to grab the juice out for Jenny?"

         "Sure thing." He walked to the refrigerator and grabbed the door handle. He noticed a new picture pegged there with little magnets. It looked like something Chris had drawn - some kind of family portrait.

         "You do this in school, pal?" Roy asked as he took out the orange juice and shut the door of the fridge. He walked to the table, poured juice in both Jenny's cup and his own.

         "Yeah, Dad," Chris told him. "It's our family. See... there's you and mom and me and Jenny and Uncle Johnny."

          Roy glanced over his shoulder to take a better look at the picture. "Uncle Johnny, huh? He made it into our family?" 

         "Sure, Dad," Chris told him emphatically.

         "He has to be," Jenny added. "He's our Uncle Johnny."

        And that seemed to settle it for the kids. Roy glanced over to gauge his wife's reaction to that bit of news. But instead of the displeasure he'd anticipated, Joanne was smiling. She brought the plate of pancakes over and sat down next to Roy. When she met his eyes, she merely shrugged.

        "He's our Uncle Johnny," she said simply.

            The End

This story was inspired by, and dedicated to Tad (who will never read it, but is the inspiration for it nonetheless.)  My husband's best friend for over 20 years, my kids' "Uncle" Tad, and finally - after a rocky start and many years later - my dear friend.

This story would never have gotten finished if not for Kenda's friendship, patience, and willingness to read it in what can only be a new description of the term "bits and pieces." She deserves a million thanks.

Also thanks to Jackie B. for helping me find even more typos than I thought I had. :> And for her thoughts and insights, too. And to
Becca for her medical know-how.

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