by Icabu

Paramedic Johnny Gage paused setting up Rampart's required TKO for his partner, Paramedic Roy DeSoto. The six liters of oxygen was having the desired effect and Roy moaned, attempting to sit up.

"Lie still, Roy," instructed Johnny. "You took in a little too much smoke." Johnny eased the woozy Roy back against the folded-blanket pillow. "Just breathe even and deep."

Johnny knew how annoying the oxygen mask was, but it was marginally better than the cannula. At least he could do that to ease his friend's discomfort.

Again, Johnny paused as a deep cough racked his partner. "Easy, Roy," Johnny said as he held Roy's head and shoulder's up until the spell ended. It was good to see the oxygen working to clear Roy's lungs, but it was hard to watch the strain and pain.

Roy settled down and Johnny finally got the IV inserted and the TKO dripping. Taking a moment for a deep breath himself, Johnny wondered what had gotten into his partner - senior partner at that. Running into that building without his air pack was more like a stunt that Johnny himself was known for. Wasn't it Roy, and the Cap of course, that had finally broken Johnny of flying off half-cocked like that? (Well, mostly…)

Another cough attack. The loose rattle was encouraging, but Johnny cringed at the pinch of pain on Roy's face that not even the clunky mask could hide. "Easy," he tried to soothe, but otherwise felt helpless. "Ambulance is on the way."

Johnny looked down the street, wishing said ambulance to appear. Johnny knew Roy would recover better in a comfy Rampart bed than lying on a thin blanket on a sizzling asphalt parking lot with smoke wafting through the air.

Captain Stanley paused as he passed Johnny and his patient partner. Johnny gave a reassuring nod, and the boss trotted off to direct the rest of his crew. Johnny knew Marco and Chet would find a reason to 'happen' by to get an update. If the slowest ambulance on the planet didn't get there first, that is.

"Everything's okay," Johnny told Roy. "Just lay still, will ya." Johnny eased Roy back again. There was no need for Roy to worry about the fire or anything other than getting his lungs cleared. "Deep even breaths," Johnny reminded his patient. He smiled at the glower he received in return. Johnny knew how difficult it was being a patient - especially a paramedic patient.

Johnny busied himself with another round of vitals - more to assure himself than any pressing patient health need. All okay. A few rattles and rales in the left lung, but that was expected. He comforted Roy through another coughing spell.

A strong smell of smoke took Johnny's attention off his patient. Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez stood staring down at Roy. Johnny waved them back. "You two reek of smoke. Can't you see he's already had too much." Johnny adjusted the mask as Roy squirmed to see his visitors, rolling his eyes with exasperation when Roy gave the smelly duo a thumbs-up.

The sound of an approaching (he hoped) siren caught Johnny's attention as Chet and Marco trudged off at the Cap's call. Cautiously checking his patient once again, Johnny relaxed slightly at the continuing good vital signs, grimaced at the ear-splitting siren as the ambulance screeched to a halt nearby. He certainly hoped they drove better than that with a patient aboard.

Supervising the transfer to the gurney, Johnny tucked the IV bag under Roy's shoulder, helped with the sheet covering - amid Roy's persistent resistance, the straps, and managed to let the Cap know he was (finally!) leaving the scene in the ambulance with Roy.

Before he could get settled on the bench seat beside the gurney, the ambulance took off like a bullet, nearly toppling Johnny on top of Roy. "Hey!" Johnny yelled, knowing his protest would never reach the driver's ears over the screaming siren. He noted a look of annoyance on Roy's face and knew, all too well, that the siren seemed louder when lying on the gurney.

With a final, jerking stop, the hellish ambulance ride ended at Rampart’s ER doors. Gathering equipment, Johnny had Roy unlocked and ready to roll when the doors opened and Dixie McCall gave the order for Room 3. Drs. Brackett and Morton joined her as they escorted Roy to the treatment room.

The Treatment Room Hustle began. Johnny fastened the IV bag to the exam table’s pole, Dixie had the oxygen feed switched to the room’s port, Brackett listened intently as Roy inhaled and exhaled, coughing as much as breathing. Blood collection commenced. Morton tapped for reflex responses.

This was the worst part of the whole process to Johnny – all the hovering, poking and prodding, needles and questions. It seemed endless as you lay on the exam table helpless and pained. A knowing and sympathetic

shiver ran through Johnny, settling as a knot in his stomach. On the sidelines now, he watched the procedures with the rare element of detachment.

A loud clatter at the door ushered in the mobile x-ray unit. Johnny’s cue to exit. Giving Roy one last glance, Johnny knew his partner was in the best hands and would soon be back in the squad with him. As he turned to make his escape, Roy grabbed Johnny’s arm with surprising strength. Johnny leaned in to hear his partner’s low, raspy voice.

"Call Joanne."

That was all Johnny could make out before the mask snapped back into place as Dixie gently swatted Roy’s hand away from it.

Johnny straightened, his mind reeling. Call Joanne?! Roy’s gaze pinned Johnny until he was able to nod that he would make the call. Then Dixie not so gently pushed Johnny from the room.

Call Joanne. The words strangled Johnny’s brain. He certainly did not know what to say to Roy’s wife. What if she cried? He didn’t want to make Joanne cry. What if there were hysterics? He certainly didn’t know what to do for wifely hysterics.

He dialed the pay phone near the waiting area.

"Hello." Joanne said smoothly.

Johnny’s mouth moved, but no words came out.

"Hello?"

Johnny already heard concern in Joanne’s voice.

"Jo? It’s me. Johnny."

"Oh, Johnny. Johnny?"

Johnny’s throat tightened.

"Yeah. It’s me, Jo."

"How bad is it, Johnny? How is Roy?"

Johnny swallowed, his throat loosening. Somehow Joanne knew why Johnny was calling. He could do this.

"He took in some smoke, Jo." He’d leave the details for Roy to tell her. "He’s okay, but will likely stay tonight."

"I’ll be there as soon as I can, Johnny."

Relief flooded through Johnny. No crying. No hysterics. Joanne knew, too.