November, 1976

Roy walked into the apparatus bay. He was early and it was quiet, something he was grateful for. He didn't really feel like making small talk right now, especially when he knew how awkward it was going to be for everyone, at least for a while.

It was his first shift back since the shooting. It had taken him nearly a month to fully satisfy Dr. Brackett that he was well enough, both physically and emotionally to go back to work. With both Brackett and the Department pressuring him, Roy had finally relented and gone to see a counselor, though he hadn't been entirely sold on the prospect. He didn't know what good sitting around talking to a stranger would do, but he'd suffered through it. He didn't think he'd been as cooperative as the man would have liked, but he must have said something right. He'd finally been cleared by both doctors.

He walked over to the squad, running his hand along the chrome railing on top, then down along the cab. He knew from Cap that the police had kept the vehicle for nearly two weeks, going over every inch of it, looking for evidence. But Roy knew that the only thing the man may have even touched was the compartment door when he took the drug box. No fingerprints had been found there; in fact, not much of anything had been found.

His hands brushed over the outside of the compartments and then down the driver's side door. The repairs and paint job had been done well. There was no sign of the bullets that had gone through Roy to wedge themselves into the body of the squad. The slugs the police had pulled out had been too badly damaged to get any markings, and it wasn't as if they had any other slugs to match them up with. The cuffs Roy had been wearing had plenty of prints and partial prints, but nothing that matched up with any known criminals. Roy had told them the only prints on there were probably Johnny's anyway, but he supposed they had to check.

Nothing had turned up from the sketch either. At first, they'd gotten a few tips, but nothing had ever checked out, and soon, even those stopped coming in. So here they were a month later, with nothing to go on and no closer to finding Johnny than they'd been that first day.

Roy stuffed his hands into his pockets. Crockett seemed to put a lot of stock in the fact that this guy had gone so much against his M.O. He kept telling Roy not to give up hope, that Johnny could very well still be alive. Roy knew what he meant was that they hadn't found a body yet, and he couldn't find much comfort in that. He woke up every day wondering if this would be the day his best friend would be found dead.

He closed his eyes, still having to battle his emotions whenever he thought about what his partner had done for him.

"Roy?"

The paramedic swiped a quick hand over his eyes and turned to see Mike Stoker standing on the other side of the squad, leaning on the hood. Roy hadn't heard anyone come into the bay. The engineer must have been out here tending to Big Red all along.

"Hey, Mike," Roy greeted.

Stoker wasn't a man of words, but from the way he stood, looking decidedly uncomfortable, it was obvious he had something on his mind.

"Did you want to talk to me?" Roy asked hesitantly. In any other circumstances, he might have found it funny that the two least talkative men on their shift were out here struggling to have a conversation.

"Uh, yeah, Roy." Mike rubbed absently at a spot on the fender. Finally though, he looked up and met Roy's eyes. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I am... about everything."

Roy nodded politely. If that's all it was, he didn't need to hear it. He'd already gotten this line a million times.

"Thanks, Mike," Roy responded automatically. "I appreciate..."

"No," Mike interrupted. "Roy, listen a minute. I need to apologize."

Roy regarded the engineer curiously. It wasn't like Mike to be so adamant. Obviously this was important to him.

"Apologize for what?" Roy asked.

"For not being there for you and John," he answered, then cleared his throat. "I was standing there like an idiot the whole time... Damn it, I never heard a thing, Roy."

Roy could see how much this was bothering Mike and for the first time since it happened, the paramedic saw the incident from someone else's point of view.

"Mike, you just said you didn't hear anything. So you can't blame yourself."

"Very true, Roy, very true," Captain Stanley's deep voice caused Roy to turn and Mike to glance over. "Look, guys, I think both of you have to realize that there wasn't anything you could do. We all have to deal with the what if's."

Mike didn't look completely convinced, but he had too much respect for his captain to disagree. He gave both men a wan smile, muttered a "right, Cap," and walked back over to the engine.

Roy watched him for a moment, then turned when he heard Hank sigh heavily.

"You okay, Cap?" he asked.

"Yeah," the older man answered slowly. "It's just been hard on everybody."

Roy's mouth twisted ruefully. "And now I'm back, it's gotten worse," he deduced.

Hank looked nonplused. "Not at all, Roy. Not at all. I just wanted you to know that everybody's feeling the loss." He gave a short laugh. "Hell, the department even sent a shrink over here. Said we needed counseling."

"Did it help?" Roy inquired curiously, wondering if it was the same guy he'd talked to.

Hank shook his head. "Are you kidding? Group therapy with Kelly? We're lucky the doctor left without having Chet committed."

Roy smiled and Hank rested a hand on the paramedic's shoulder. "Do ya have a minute, pal?" the captain asked.

Roy nodded and followed Cap into his office. Hank shut the door for privacy, sat behind his desk, and motioned Roy to take a seat.

"I want you to know, Roy, that I have every confidence in you. I know you wouldn't come back to work unless you thought you could handle it."

Roy gave Hank a grateful nod. "But there's a problem?" he concluded.

"No. Not a problem really. I just wanted to let you know the brass is a little concerned about your emotional state. They want me to fill out some performance evals, that all. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thanks, Cap," Roy told him. "I kinda figured they'd want something like that. It's probably a good idea."

Hank nodded absently and Roy knew there was something else bothering him. The captain was toying with a pencil.

"Cap." Roy leaned forward. "Is there something else you want to tell me?"

Hank looked up. "Roy... look, Roy. It's been almost a month. Now, I'm not gonna tell you to give up or anything like that. Everybody has to deal with this in their own way. But I think you might want to take John's things out of his locker... you know, for safe keeping."

Now it was Roy's turn to look away. He would do what Cap asked, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Where does he stand with the department?" the paramedic managed to ask. "How long will they wait before..."

"Right now he's listed as temporarily inactive. He'll stay that way until... well, until there's a definite change in status."

"What about his paycheck?" Roy inquired. "I'd like to keep his apartment for him, but it'll be tough without his pay."

Hank shook his head. "I'll have to find out for you. Usually... well, there really isn't a case like this to go on, is there? But I would imagine they'd hold any money until the police close the case... well, one way or another."

Roy suddenly felt tired. He rubbed at his eyes. "Okay, Cap. Whatever you can do, I'd appreciate it."

He started to leave, but Hank held up his hand.

"One more thing." He reached into his desk and pulled out a small blue box.

Roy knew what it was instantly and he felt a stab of sorrow cut through him in an almost physical sensation.

"I thought..." Hank paused and cleared his throat. "I thought maybe you should keep this."

Roy reached out and took the box without saying anything. His voice wouldn't work right anyway. He got up and left Cap's office, heading automatically to the day room, hoping there was time for a cup of coffee before roll call. He shoved the box into his pocket before he pushed his way through the door.

He saw Mike sitting at the table, reading the paper. The engineer glanced up and acknowledged Roy with a nod of his head. A couple of the guys from C shift were here as well, waiting out that hated limbo of the last few minutes on shift, dreading a tone out before their relief was officially on the clock.

"Hey, Roy," Dwyer greeted with a big smile. "Welcome back."

Roy gave the paramedic a slight smile. "Thanks, Charlie." He poured himself some coffee and took a seat at the table, feeling slightly nervous. He really didn't enjoy being the center of attention and the next few days were going to be hard to handle as he encountered people on the job that he hadn't seen since the night of the fire.

Johnson, C Shift's other paramedic, shoved the box of donuts in Roy's direction. "Who's your new ... uh, who's working with you?" he asked, back pedaling to cover his blunder. Dwyer slapped the back of his partner's head in disgust.

Roy ignored their exchange, the easy interplay between men who have worked together for a long time.

"I, uh... I'm not sure who's on today," he answered quietly. This was another source of discomfort for Roy. It really didn't matter who got assigned here. It wasn't going to be easy to work with anyone for a while.

"His name's Conley," Mike spoke up. "He subbed a couple of times last week. He's pretty new."

Roy acknowledged Mike's information with a nod of his head. He knew that once the squad had been returned, substitutes had filled in on their shift.

Great. A newbie. That's all I need.

"Hey, Roy, don't look so down," Dwyer consoled. "Coulda been Brice."

There was a chorus of agreements around the room. Roy wasn't so sure that Brice wouldn't have been the better alternative. At least Roy could have been assured that Brice wouldn't act nervous or uncomfortable around him.

The door to the day room opened again and Chet and Marco entered. Chet was fiddling with his badge and offered a quiet, "Hey, Roy," as his only greeting, before he settled on the couch beside Henry. Marco, on the other hand, came up and slapped a friendly hand on Roy's shoulder.

"Good to see you, amigo," he said warmly.

The smile returned to Roy's face. "Thanks, Marco."

"Well, I guess we'll let you slaves take over," Dwyer announced with a grin. "Time for the real men to head home."

There was a collective groan as the members of C shift shuffled toward the door. Roy sipped at his coffee as they left, unaware that Dwyer hadn't followed them until the tall paramedic cleared his throat uncomfortably. Roy glanced up and saw concern on the normally affable man's face.

"Hey, Roy..." he began, obviously uncomfortable. "I was just kinda wondering... well, if... if you'd heard anything... you know..."

Roy felt his face flush at Dwyer's stumbling questions. In trying so hard to deal with his own pain, Roy sometimes forgot that he wasn't Johnny's only friend. He cleared his throat, struggling to control his emotions.

"Uh, no... nothing new," he replied softly. "Crockett keeps in touch, though. If anything... well, he'd call me."

Dwyer nodded and pushed his way out the door without saying anything else, leaving the day room in strained silence.

After a few moments, the door opened again. This time it was Cap who came in, escorting a gangly red headed man Roy didn't know.

"Roy, this is Todd Conley," Cap introduced. "He'll be working with you for a while."

Roy realized his captain had purposefully left the time factor vague.

A while, Roy mused. That could be two days or two months... or two years, he finished morosely.

Roy stood and reached out his hand to shake Conley's. "Nice to meet ya," he managed to mumble.

"Thanks," the younger man replied enthusiastically. He gave a nervous little wave to the other men in the room. "Nice to see you guys again."

Cap brought over a cup of coffee for the new paramedic. "Todd here completed his training last month over at St. Francis. He's floating until a permanent spot opens up."

Roy nodded mutely. It was all standard practice.

Todd took his coffee and pulled out the chair next to Roy. If he saw the slight wince Roy gave at the gesture, the younger man didn't mention it.

"I worked here a couple times while you were still out," Conley informed Roy as he reached into the box of donuts. "You've got a nice station. I wouldn't mind getting the permanent post here."

The room fell silent at the off hand remark, and Roy's throat went dry. Cap had assured him that Johnny's inactive status was still listed as being temporary. Headquarters shouldn't be looking for a permanent replacement. His eyes caught Cap's, the unspoken question loud between them.

Hank cleared his throat, but never got a chance to speak. Chet chose that moment to get up from the couch, dumping Henry out of his lap.

"Yeah, well, don't start pickin' out curtains for the squad," he stated bluntly. "Nobody's replacing Gage." He stalked across the room and pushed through the door. Marco got up without saying anything and followed his friend.

Roy watched them go, feeling mostly numb at the exchange. He could hear Cap trying to apologize to Conley for Chet's behavior. The young man looked more confused than upset. Roy tried to pick up his coffee and noticed his hands were trembling. He stood up and left the day room.

He got as far as the back parking lot before he stopped and leaned against the wall. He stood there, taking deep breaths, trying to get himself under control.

"I don't think he realized what he was saying," came Mike's calm voice.

Roy didn't turn. He merely stared at the cars in the lot, without really seeing them.

"Is Chet okay?" he asked finally.

He saw Mike's shoulders shrug. "He's been having a tough time," was the engineer's only comment.

Roy sighed and kicked at a pebble on the ground. When he lifted his head again, it suddenly registered that something was missing. "Where's the Rover?" he demanded, panicked at the thought that Johnny was disappearing out of his life, bit by bit.

Mike's hand dropped onto his shoulder in a calming gesture. "Chet took it home," he explained quietly. "He said he didn't think you should have to see it every day and be reminded. I don't know if it makes any sense, but I think Chet couldn't handle seeing it here. He's okay with it at home, but having it here at work when Johnny's not..." Mike shrugged again.

Roy let his breath out slowly, fighting the sting of tears that so often threatened. "I think I understand how he feels."

* * *

Joanne walked into Jenny's room, laundry basket in hand, ready to pick up any clothes that hadn't made it into the upstairs hamper. She knew she wouldn't find many here, only a stray sock or two. Chris' room would be another story. She had decided long ago that something in her son's genes made him incapable of picking up dirty clothes.

She sighed a bit at the state of her daughter's bed. Jenny was usually very good about keeping her room straight, but lately the seven year old had been balking at doing even the most routine chores. Joanne had discussed it with Roy and they had decided not to push it for now. They knew both children were having a hard time dealing with their feelings about Johnny's disappearance. In fact, Joanne had talked to Dr. Brackett about it just this morning, and he'd given her the name of a child psychologist. She didn't know how Roy would feel about it, but Joanne was certain it would do the kids a world of good to be able to talk about their feelings. She knew they were reluctant to do it in front of their father for fear of upsetting him.

Joanne knew it was difficult for adults to know how to handle the situation. Everything was still so much in the air - so unresolved. If you gave in and grieved for Johnny, then you would be admitting he was dead, and so far that wasn't an option, especially for Roy.

As she pulled the covers straight on Jenny's bed, Joanne sighed heavily. She wasn't sure if Roy would ever admit Johnny was dead. Unless a body was discovered, Joanne knew her husband would always kindle a hope that his friend and partner was still alive and would be found. She would never try and stifle that hope, but she worried about what it would do to Roy to live forever with the uncertainty.

Unable to get the lump in the middle to smooth out, Joanne reached under the sheets to pull out what she thought would be her daughter's nightgown. Instead she pulled out a light blue gingham dress.

"Oh, Jenny," she whispered as she clutched the garment to her chest.

She recalled vividly the conversation they'd had last week at the dinner table when Jennifer had informed them she wasn't going trick or treating. No matter how much she or Roy asked, their daughter had refused to give a reason. They'd finally given up and chalked it up to the vagaries of children's moods. Now, however, Joanne knew exactly why Jenny hadn't wanted to go. She remembered last summer when Jenny had declared she was going to dress up as Dorothy for Halloween, but was upset when neither Chris nor Roy was willing to be one of the other characters. Johnny had come to her rescue and promised he would be the Scarecrow if Joanne would make him a costume.

Jenny had been so excited. Her eyes had shone brightly the entire time they'd worked on her dress - the one Joanne held in her hands now. Since Jenny's had been done so far ahead of time, Joanne had pretty much forgotten about it. She never had gotten around to making Johnny's costume. There had always seemed so much time.

Joanne sank down on her daughter's bed. There seemed to be no facet of their lives that John Gage hadn't been an integral part of. If Halloween was this bad, how were they ever going to get through Christmas?

The ringing of the doorbell brought her out of her musing. She lay the dress across the bed and got up to see who was at the door. She couldn't have been more surprised by her visitor.

"Kathy? I haven't seen you in weeks." Joanne stepped aside to let the woman enter. "Come on in."

"Thanks, Joanne. I'm sorry to just barge in."

The two walked into the living room and settled on the couch. Joanne offered to get some coffee, but Kathy declined.

"I don't want to put you to any trouble. I'm kinda cutting down on coffee anyway."

Kathy looked better than she had that day in the hospital, but she still looked tired. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Joanne's heart went out to the girl. They'd been dealing so much with their own grief, it was easy to forget there were others who were affected as well.

"How are you doing, Kathy?" Joanne asked. She reached over to lay a hand on the woman's knee. "Honestly."

Kathy gave her a slight smile and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Everyone at work's been real nice, but I feel... I don't know, I feel so dishonest about it."

"Dishonest?"

The younger woman shrugged again. "It's hard to explain. It's like before... Johnny and me... we were just going out, you know? Now... it's like everybody's acting like I'm a widow. It's hard to deal with sometimes."

"I guess it would be," Joanne agreed. "How do you feel, though?" she pressed. "Do you feel like a widow?"

Kathy stood up and walked over to stare out the sliding glass door, her arms folded in front of her. "I don't know, Joanne. Everything is so crazy right now. I don't know what to do."

The last statement was spoken so low Joanne almost didn't hear it. She regarded her visitor curiously. The woman seemed more than just upset about people's awkward dealings with her.

"Kathy... is something wrong?"

There was no answer, but as Joanne watched, Kathy's shoulders convulsed once, then again. "God, everything's wrong." She started sobbing in earnest.

Joanne rushed to the woman's side and put an arm across her shoulders. Without saying anything, she guided Kathy back to the couch. They sat that way, with Kathy crying in Joanne's arms, for some time. Finally though, Kathy's sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup and she sat up. Joanne handed her a couple of tissues from the box on the end table. When the woman seemed calmed down enough to talk, Joanne made the first opening.

"Why don't you tell me about it," she invited warmly. "It always helps to talk things out."

Kathy sniffled and wiped at her nose a few times. "I'm sorry, Joanne," She apologized. "I didn't mean to do that. I know you've been through a lot lately and..."

"Kathy," Joanne interrupted kindly. "We're all in this together. And don't worry about crying. Lord knows I've shed my share of tears this past month."

Kathy smiled weakly. She sat shredding the used tissue between her fingers.

"I know you guys have gone through a lot," she began. "You all were so close to Johnny and he..." She paused and worked at keeping control. "He loved you and your family so much. I was always so jealous of that."

Joanne kept silent and waited patiently while Kathy talked.

"I told you once we weren't serious... and we weren't... not really. But he was a lot of fun to be with. I guess maybe I shouldn't have strung him along."

Kathy fell silent. She wrapped her arms around herself, and leaned back against the sofa, her blue eyes focused on the ceiling. Several minutes passed this way. When Kathy spoke again, she never moved her gaze.

"I'm pregnant, Joanne," she whispered brokenly.

* * *

Roy lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. Cap had called lights out a couple of hours ago and Roy had turned in with everyone else. He'd fallen asleep, but as had become his habit of late, had awakened after a short time, unable to drift back off.

He could hear the sounds of the other men as they slept. A quiet cough, the rustle of sheets, the creak of a mattress as someone turned over. They were all familiar sounds. There was only one sound missing. Roy glanced to his right, to the bunk beside him. Conley lay there, flat on his stomach and dead to the world.

Heaving a sigh, Roy turned his eyes back to the ceiling. It would probably seem strange if he tried to explain it to anyone, but he missed Johnny's breathing. He was so accustomed to having his partner in the bunk next to him, he knew every sound Johnny made at night. He knew when Johnny was restless, knew when he was so beat he never moved, knew when Johnny was fighting a cold, or had eaten too much smoke. He even knew the nights when Johnny had bad dreams, though that was the sort of thing they never really talked about. They saw so much blood and pain on the job, so much of it unnecessary, they all had nightmares from time to time. It was something your good friends never brought up.

Knowing he wasn't going to get back to sleep for some time, Roy got up and stepped into his boots, pulling up his bunker pants. He walked softly out of the dorm and into the locker room, flipping the switch and squinting in the sudden illumination. He stood for a moment in front of Johnny's locker, then reached out a hand to open it slowly.

He sank down onto the bench and sat there for the longest time, unable to move. His eyes roved over the contents he could see without moving anything. Several pale blue uniform shirts, hanging together on the rod, an extra pair of pants that had slipped off their hanger and fallen to the bottom of the locker, Johnny's hiking boots that he'd worn into work that morning, and his jeans folded up and sitting on top of them, waiting for their owner to return. His eyes shifted to Smokey Bear on the door. There were small snapshots stuck crookedly at the top of the poster. He knew without looking that they would be of Chris and Jenny. Roy couldn't remember how many years ago Johnny started keeping photos of the kids in his locker. They'd just been there one day and Roy had accepted it without question.

There was another one there, one of Kathy and Johnny on horseback. Johnny had put it there a few months ago, after the couple had spent the weekend at Big Bear. Roy smiled as he remembered the tirade Johnny had gone on about how badly rental horses were treated. His partner had spent more time talking to him about that than he ever had about what else he and Kathy had done.

Roy's shoulders sagged and he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.

I can't do this. I'm not gonna be able to do this.

"Roy? Can I come in?"

Roy lifted his head and turned to see Chet standing a few feet away, looking hesitant and unsure.

"I mean, I don't wanna bother you or anything..." Kelly continued. "Just tell me and I'll leave."

Roy smiled, remembering Stoker's words from earlier about how Chet had been having a hard time. "It's okay, Chet. You're not bothering me."

Chet adjusted his suspender and walked all the way over. He held a box in his hand. "I, uh... I couldn't sleep and, uh, I thought maybe you could use a hand in here. You know..." He gestured at the open locker.

Roy nodded. "I know, Chet. Thanks."

Chet's mouth twitched slightly, and he set the carton down on the bench. With little words exchanged between them, they started pulling things out of Johnny's locker and putting them in the box.

* * *

Roy sat at the kitchen table, lingering over a cup of coffee. The kids had left for school and Joanne had cleaned off the dishes. It was quiet. The only sound Roy could hear was a mourning dove cooing from the telephone wire where he was perched. His thoughts were far away and he was startled when Joanne set her cup down on the table and took the chair next to him.

"Thought we spend a little quality time," she told him with a grin, as she reached over to take his hand. "How was it?" she asked.

He knew what she was referring to. "Okay," he answered. "I had a talk with Stoker. Guess I didn't realize how much he was kicking himself."

Joanne nodded like she was aware of that. Roy decided not to try and figure out how his wife knew this kind of stuff. Roy took a sip of his coffee and studied the pattern on the saucer.

"Talked a little with Cap, too," he told her. "The Department wants him to keep an eye on me for a while." He chuckled. "They're afraid I might have a breakdown on the job or something."

He felt his wife squeeze his hand and he knew the brass weren't the only ones worried about him.

"Anyway," he went on, steering away from that subject. "Cap's gonna check with payroll about Johnny's salary... see if we can get something set up to pay his rent." He shook his head. "He doesn't think they'll go for it, though, and we can't handle our house payment plus Johnny's apartment."

"Well, it does seem like a waste since he's not living there," Joanne reasoned. "We can make room in the garage and store his things for him... maybe not all the furniture, but..."

Roy nodded. "If it comes to that, that's what we'll do."

They were quiet for a time, then Joanne spoke up again.

"Who'd you work with?"

He shrugged and took another drink of coffee. "New kid. His name's Conley. He's okay, I guess, but I don't know how long he'll stay here. He's lookin' for a permanent assignment." He felt Joanne squeeze his hand again.

"Did you get much sleep last night?"

"Not too bad," Roy told her. "We only had one call and that was before ten." He didn't need to tell her he didn't sleep the whole night, despite the lack of runs. She knew how restless his nights had become.

"I had a visitor yesterday," Joanne said suddenly.

Roy raised his eyebrows at the abrupt change of subject. His wife wasn't good at hiding things and she seemed preoccupied with something.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Kathy."

Roy's eyebrows climbed higher on his head. "Really?" He kept his voice even. For some reason his opinion of the woman had taken a decided down turn since Johnny's disappearance. He couldn't put a finger on why, but he felt like somehow she hadn't treated his friend right. "What did she want?"

Joanne was running her finger around the rim of her mug. "She came to talk to me. She's going through some pretty rough times right now."

"Oh, yeah?" Roy tried to pretend he was interested. "I didn't know you two were such good buddies. She's never just dropped by before." He couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice and Joanne looked at him with disapproval.

"Roy, give her a break."

Roy sighed and took another drink of coffee. "All right, all right," he relented. "What's wrong?"

He watched Joanne bite her lip, obviously trying to figure out a way to say something. Now he was a little concerned.

"Jo, what is it?"

"Kathy's pregnant."

Roy couldn't have been more unprepared. He sat and stared at his wife for a full minute before he could think of anything to say.

"She's what?"

"You heard me," Joanne replied smoothly. "She's going to have a baby... Johnny's baby."

"But... how did... why..."

"Roy." Joanne turned her intense brown eyes on him. "It doesn't matter how, or why. I don't plan on delving into their sex life. They didn't plan on this and you and I both know nothing is ever full proof."

Roy brought both his hands up to his face, shutting out the world for a moment. He lowered them down slowly.

"She sure it's Johnny's?" he asked bitterly.

"Roy!" Joanne scolded. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. She's a frightened girl with a problem, not the whore of Babylon. It took two of them to make this baby."

Roy blew out a loud breath. "So what's she gonna do?" he asked. "She works, she's in the middle of school." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Is she trying to get you to babysit for her?"

"Not exactly," Joanne hedged.

"What does that mean?"

Joanne got up and took their cups to the sink. She rinsed them out, then turned around, leaning against the counter.

"She doesn't want to keep the baby, Roy," she stated in a low voice.

"What! An abortion? Is that what she wants to do? Kill Johnny's baby?" He was about ready to explode, but Joanne held up her hands for him to wait.

"Hear me out," she asked. "I'm not saying I agree with her, I'm just telling you what she's feeling and thinking. She doesn't want an abortion, so relax. She's going to have the baby, but she doesn't feel up to being a single mom, trying to work, go to school, raise a baby. That's a hard life, and she doesn't want to go through it."

"So what's left?" Roy demanded.

"Adoption," Joanne answered simply.

Now Roy got up from the table. He couldn't sit still any longer. He paced back and forth in frustration. "I don't know how she could do that," he said. "Didn't she have any feelings for Johnny?"

"Some," Joanne answered sadly. "But not enough. Not nearly enough to do this for him."

That cut through Roy like a knife. His hand moved to his pocket, where he could feel the small box Cap had given him. The image of Johnny's excited face telling him all about his upcoming proposal flashed through the paramedic's memory.

"So she has the baby and she what... just hands it over to strangers?"

Joanne came over and took his arm, stopping his movement. She turned him to face her. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Not to strangers, Roy," she whispered. "Not to strangers."

* * *

April, 1977

Roy wiped his hands on an old rag and stood back to survey his handiwork. Their old guest room was no longer recognizable. A few weeks ago, the guys had come over and helped him take out the old wood paneling, sand down the walls, paint and put up wallpaper and molding. The kids had wanted to get in on the fun and had spent several hours stenciling the old dresser and changing table Joanne had pulled out of the garage and repainted. It was now white with small green and yellow hearts on the drawer fronts. The curtains Joanne had made matched the dresser. Roy had just refinished the old crib that they'd never had the heart to throw out. The new nursery was nearly ready.

The ladies at church, upon hearing the DeSoto's were adopting a baby, had thrown a huge shower a few weeks ago, so there were plenty of baby clothes, diapers, toys and bath items to fill the room. Emily Stanley and Beth Stoker had shown up one day with a stroller and car seat. As far as Roy could tell, this baby had everything it needed. But there was one more thing Roy had planned for this room.

He walked over to the open box sitting on the floor. Back in January, with Johnny still listed as inactive and his salary being held until further notice, Roy had been forced to let the apartment go. The lease had ended at the end of December and it was too much of a drain on his own family's finances to hold onto it. The furniture was given away or sold, but Roy and Joanne had packed up Johnny's personal things and brought them over to be stored in their garage. It had been an emotional day, one Roy didn't want to have to ever repeat. It seemed so unfair that a man's life could be packed up into a few boxes, and more than once he'd found himself choking up and battling tears over a photo or a letter.

One thing Roy had made sure he did was gather a certain amount of personal mementoes together into one place so he could find them easily when the time came. That's what was in the box in front of him.

He moved over to the far corner of the room. Here, where it could be seen from the crib, and later, from a child's bed, a three tiered shelf hung on the wall. Roy had made it himself for this very purpose, and it was here he carefully placed the items in the box.

There were several candid photos of Johnny, as well as his official department one. There were a couple of medals from his high school track team, a commendation from the city, a small, black and white picture of Johnny's parents, and a few of Johnny when he was a child. The other items in the box hadn't come from Johnny's place.

When he happened to mention what he had planned for the shelves to the guys, they'd each showed up at some point with a small token to be placed here. Marco had brought over the barbershop quartet trophy Johnny had wanted so very badly. Because it had really been for a comedy act, the guys had let Marco's mother keep it. Mama Lopez had urged Marco to give it to Johnny's little one. Roy had to chuckle as he remembered how awful their group had really sounded.

Mike, always with a quirky sense of humor, had framed his spaghetti recipe. Roy set the small frame on the shelf and rolled his eyes as he recalled the brief fiasco this dish had caused in his life and how Johnny had jumped in to try and help. Roy had no idea how Stoker had even found out about it, except that Mike seemed to always know what went on in the station.

Chet's contribution had been a framed 8x10 black and white photo of a rescue, with Johnny in the forefront, as they carried a stokes with a victim up out of a canyon. This was the shot Johnny had been so proud of, the one the magazine was going to pay him $25.00 for, but all his dreams of a career as a photographer had gone down the tubes when Chet pointed out that he took the shot rather than Johnny. From that day on, the picture had been on Chet's wall. Now it would be here for the baby to see every day.

The last item from the guys was larger than the rest. Cap had come over one day and given it to Roy without any kind of explanation. Not that any was needed. Roy picked up Johnny's helmet and held it for a time, letting his fingers trace the numbers on the front. It was too big to fit on the shelf, so Roy hung it on the wall just above everything else.

There was only one more thing in the box, It was a small dream catcher that had hung over Johnny's bed. Roy now fixed it to the wall where the head of the crib would rest.

He stood there for a moment and studied the collection. Joanne and he had had many long discussions about how exactly they would handle raising this baby. Joanne was adamant that this child needed to feel a part of their family and not like some stray cousin who'd been shoved on them because there was no one else. If they were going to adopt the child, they were going to do it wholeheartedly. They would be the child's parents.

Roy understood Joanne's feelings on the matter, and he agreed for the most part. But he hadn't yet been able to come to grips with having Johnny's child call them Mom and Dad. To him that spoke of abandoning Johnny, and that wasn't something he was ready to do yet.

He sighed and picked up the empty box. It had been six months already. Six months. Roy knew most people had given Johnny up for dead. The fact that his body had never been found only meant that the murderer had changed his pattern. The police had already broached the subject of declaring Johnny dead. Roy had refused to go along with that and had found an unlikely ally. Lieutenant Crockett was still working the case. He had bucked his superiors and somehow managed to keep it pegged an open file, even though any kind of leads were few and far between. He called Roy regularly to keep him updated.

Roy walked downstairs. Life had settled somewhat into a routine, but it would never be the same as it had been. He'd gone through several partners. The one he had now he liked okay, but none of them clicked with him the way Johnny had. Roy knew most of it was probably his own fault. He really hadn't given any of them much of a chance. He'd talked to Cap about it, and Hank had told him not to worry. His work was above reproach and just because you worked with somebody, didn't mean you had to be their best friend.

Roy sighed. That was the whole problem. Johnny was his best friend. And until Roy let go, no one was ever going to take that place in his life.

He took the box out to the trash and when he came back in Joanne was standing at the door waiting for him. She was trying to look stern, but she had a smile on her face.

"You did a very nice job, dear, but you might want to put at least one picture of Kathy on those shelves."

Roy rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned Kathy didn't deserve a place in the baby's life. She didn't seem to want one anyway. They'd all been to see the lawyer and make all the arrangements. They had what the attorney called an open adoption, since they all knew each other. Kathy would have the right to visit if she wanted to, but Roy doubted they'd ever see her once the baby was born. She was doing her best to distance herself already. She had told Joanne she didn't want to nurse the baby and she'd let the kids have the fun of picking out names. Joanne seemed to feel nothing but compassion for the young woman, but Roy wanted to kick her in the ass.

"Since I don't happen to have any pictures of Kathy, I couldn't put one on there. Maybe she can mail us one."

"Roy," Joanne said with reproach.

"Okay," he relented. "Johnny had one of the two of them in his locker. I'll put that one up."

Joanne was still regarding him with some degree of admonishment. "She's doing the best she can."

Roy gave a snort of derision as he walked back into the house. Joanne followed shaking her head.

"What do you want her to do, Roy?" Joanne asked. "Keep the baby, even though she doesn't want it? What kind of a life would that be for a child?"

Roy sat down on the couch and pulled Joanne down to sit on his lap. "What I want can't happen. I want for her to have loved Johnny... for this baby to be a treasured memory of that love." He paused, knowing he was turning red. "That's sounds pretty sappy, I know, but..."

Joanne leaned down and silenced him with a kiss. "Sappy's not necessarily a bad thing," she said with a smile. "And that baby's going to be a treasured memory of our love for Johnny."

Roy held her close. "I think I have it figured out."

"What?"

"The baby. He can call you Mommy. There won't be any competition for that title." He ignored the pinch to the arm Joanne gave him. "But Johnny's this baby's daddy. I want to be sure the baby knows Johnny. I can be Papa." He looked at Joanne to see what she thought. "Does that sound okay? Can we live with that?"

Joanne gave him a big smile. "I think we can make that work." She leaned against him, and he put both his arms around her.

"You need to know, Jo, that if Johnny were here, he'd be raising this baby."

"I know that," Joanne replied. "I know what kind of man..."

"No," Roy interrupted. "I'm not talking about being responsible or doing the right thing. Johnny would take care of this baby because he loved Kathy. The last day... on that day, he showed me a ring he bought. He had this whole romantic evening planned, and he was going to ask her to marry him."

"Oh, Roy," Joanne murmured into his neck.

"I guess, sooner or later, he woulda found out how she felt. I mean, that was Johnny, charge in full steam, even if he didn't know what was ahead of him."

Roy lay his head back against the couch. He was talking about Johnny, and he didn't have that tightness in his throat that always seemed to happen. He didn't know if that was a good sign or not.

"I put the ring in a safe deposit box at the bank," he told Joanne. "I figured we'd keep it for the baby until it grows up."

"Roy, you could have sold that ring and kept Johnny's apartment for quite a while," Joanne observed quietly.

Roy nodded. "I know. And I thought about it. But I think I knew even then that Johnny wasn't coming home."

* * *

The waiting room of the Labor and Delivery floor at Rampart was a little more comfortable than most of the other waiting areas in the hospital. Instead of the traditional hard plastic chairs designed for the most discomfort possible, this room had upholstered easy chairs and even a couple of small couches. Expectant fathers could sometimes spend a couple days here, so Roy figured someone had taken pity on them.

He glanced at the clock. It was 4 p.m. He's been here nearly ten hours already. He'd only seen Joanne a few times. She was in with Kathy, acting as coach. Jenny and Chris had wanted to be here too, but they'd soon worn out their months-long debate over whether the baby would be a John, Jr. or a Melissa and had grown bored with waiting. Dixie had shown up and taken them down to pediatrics, where they could at least play with a few toys. In an hour or so, if nothing had happened, Roy planned on rounding them up and taking them to dinner.

Every so often someone he knew would come in and ask how it was going. He'd already seen Dr. Brackett a few times, Dr. Early and Dr. Morton at least twice and Dixie every time she got a break. They knew this was Johnny's baby, as did the guys at the station. Other than that select group of people, Roy figured it wasn't anybody's business. He was pretty sure Kathy's coworker would have been able to guess, but that didn't matter to him.

He got up off the couch and wandered over to stare at a framed collage of newborn photos, obviously babies who were born here in the maternity ward. Chris had come along while Roy was in the army and had been born at the base hospital in Fort Irwin, but Jenny was born here. He'd already joined the Department and was working out of Station 95.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled slowly down the hall, lost in thought. He certainly never expected to be a new father again, and certainly not under these conditions. He remembered the overwhelming feeling of love and protectiveness he felt when he first held Chris and later Jenny. He and Joanne had been so young and so much in love, and their children had been a natural expression of that love. What was he going to feel for this baby?

Joanne seemed so sure, so certain that she could love this baby just as much as their own, but Roy was plagued with doubts. Not that he couldn't love it - but that every time he looked at the child, he would see Johnny, feel the pain of loss, the sorrow for what his friend could have had.

Roy stopped when he came to the large, plate window that looked out over the parking lot. Being on the 6^th floor, he also had quite a view of the rest of the city. He couldn't help wondering if Johnny might be out there somewhere. He supposed he would always wonder, and he hated the lost feeling that uncertainty gave him. He remembered hearing about parents of missing children who said it would be better if they knew their children were dead, because there was closure - that not knowing was the hardest thing of all. Roy leaned his head against the glass and closed his eyes.

"Roy?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Dixie standing beside him. She was wearing a big smile.

"Joanne asked me to come find you," she told him. Her smile grew even bigger. "It's a girl."

Before he could think of anything to say, the older woman threw her arms around him and gave him an enthusiastic hug.

"Roy, I'm so happy for you and Joanne."

Roy found himself returning Dixie's smile. "Thanks, Dix," he told her. "Is everything all right?"

Dixie nodded. "Weighed in at 7 and a half pounds, 20 inches long. And the bushiest head of black hair." She paused and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took hold of Roy's arm. "C'mon, they're done cleaning her up. You can come and see her."

"What about Chris and Jenny?" he asked.

"Karen in Pediatrics will bring them up in a few minutes. I think the new parents need some time alone with their little girl."

Roy let Dixie lead him down the hall. He was a little uncertain about going into Kathy's room, but that wasn't where they ended up. Dixie took him into the newborn nursery, to a far corner out of the way of the big viewing window.

Joanne was sitting in a large wooden rocker, holding a small wrapped bundle that was making a soft little cry. As he approached, his wife turned to greet him with a radiant smile.

"Oh, Roy, she's beautiful," Joanne breathed.

Roy gave the pink, wrinkled face a critical look. He'd seen a lot of newborns and none of them would win any beauty prizes.

"Give her a day or two," he advised.

Dixie slapped his arm. "Oh, you men, what do you know?"

The baby seemed to agree. She let out a long wail and Roy had to laugh.

"Typical. All the women gang up on me."

"She's probably ready to eat something," Joanne said and stood up from the chair. "Here, Roy sit down."

Roy looked up, startled. "But, honey, don't you want to do this?"

Joanne gave him a knowing look. "Oh, I think I'll be doing this plenty."

Roy glanced at Dixie, but found no help there. Outnumbered, he gave up and sat in the chair. Joanne lay the crying infant in his arms and a nurse he didn't know handed him a bottle of formula.

Even though he was out of practice, Roy handled the bottle like the expert he was. After only a few attempts, the baby was sucking happily. Long forgotten habits surfaced and he began to rock the chair gently. He studied the baby in his arms. She was so tightly swaddled, all he could see was her little face and the wild tufts of black hair that stuck out from the knitted cap the nurses had placed on her head for warmth. As she drank, she opened her big dark eyes and seemed to stare into his soul.

A lullaby Joanne used to sing to the kids suddenly flashed into his mind and feeling only a little self-conscious, he began to sing softly.

Once upon a time, and long ago,

I heard someone singing soft and low.

Now when day is done and night is near,

I recall this song I used to hear

My child, my very own,

Don't be afraid, you're not alone;

Sleep until the dawn,

For all is well.

Long ago this song was sung to me,

Now it's just a distant melody.

Somewhere from the past I used to know,

Once upon a time and long ago.

The baby had fallen asleep. Roy gently removed the bottle and lifted the little girl to his shoulder. He continued humming the song as he rocked and patted her back. Before long, a loud burp shuddered out of her little body. Roy couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Just like your dad," he whispered, then closed his eyes. Tears he didn't even know were there spilled out from under his lids and ran unheeded down his cheeks. Only this time they weren't just tears of sorrow and guilt. Mixed in with those familiar feelings was another one. These tears were an equal blend of sadness and joy.

* * *

Tulare, California

April 1978

Wednesday

Buck stood in the living room, watching the scene in his back yard. John was sitting on one of the swings, holding little Maria in his lap. The baby was giggling happily as they swayed slowly back and forth. Kara was swinging next to them, pumping her little legs for all she was worth, while Rosa was trying to show their guest how well she could do cartwheels. Sylvia was leaning against one of the legs of the swing set, talking animatedly to John about something Buck couldn't hear. It seemed somehow this man had managed to draw Buck's shy princess out of her shell.

Buck had to laugh to himself. Even Teresa had taken their new friend under her wing. While John slept, she had gone out and bought him a set of new clothes; a pair of jeans, a shirt, even underwear and socks. She'd even guessed fairly close on his shoe size and purchased a pair of tennis shoes. She'd brought them all home declaring how embarrassed she would be to go home in a borrowed pair of baggy sweat pants. John had stared at them for a long time, obviously overwhelmed, until Buck had piled the items into the flustered man's arms and kindly advised him to go change.

John still hadn't said much, though he seemed more relaxed than he had when he first arrived. Buck was glad their visitor felt comfortable with them, but he was a little anxious about the upcoming arrival of the men from Los Angeles. The chief said that the man accompanying the L.A. detective was a good friend of John's, but Buck was concerned about their reunion. John still seemed so easily spooked.

He caught the tantalizing aroma of enchiladas cooking and knew Teresa had gone all out for dinner. Their new guests would be arriving right around four, but if Buck knew his wife, she was planning on feeding everyone. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly that time now. The plan had been for the men to go to headquarters and then Chief Pratt would lead them out to the Starnes' home. Buck glanced once more at the peaceful scene outside and hoped this would all end well.

The sound of a car in the driveway turned him, and he headed to the front door. He wanted to talk to these men first, before he brought John in to meet them. Being a cop for nearly thirteen years had made him cautious, and he wanted to satisfy himself that these people really had John's best interests at heart. He also wanted to be sure they fully understood how carefully they would have to proceed.

As he opened the front door, Buck saw Chief Pratt getting out of his car. Parked behind him was an older Mustang. Two men were emerging and Buck took a moment to size them up.

The first was a black man of medium height and build. His hair was short and he wore a moustache, glasses and a serious expression. Buck wasn't sure if it was the cut of his suit or just a certain presence the man projected, but the officer knew right away this was Lieutenant Crockett.

The second man was a little taller than his companion. He was fair skinned with dark blond hair that seemed to be thinning a bit. He was dressed more casually than the detective, wearing slacks and a sport shirt. Even from this distance, Buck could see the anxious expression on the man's face and knew this had to be John's friend, Roy.

Buck started down the stone walkway and met the Chief, who turned to make the introductions.

"Buck, this is Lieutenant Ron Crockett, LA County Sheriff's Department, and Roy DeSoto. He's a firefighter and paramedic with the County." The older man then gestured to Buck. "This is Sergeant Michael Starnes, but call him Buck - everybody does."

Buck shook their hands.

"Where's Johnny?" Roy asked without preamble, once the amenities were out of the way.

Buck could see the agitation in the man's face and felt bad for prolonging this, but he had a few things to say first.

"He's in the back yard," he informed them, then grabbed hold of the paramedic's arm as the man made to brush past him. "Hold on a minute," he requested calmly, seeing the frustration in the blue eyes that were fixed on him. "I know you're anxious to see him, but you need to know a few things first."

The man relaxed enough that Buck let go of his arm. "Okay, we're listening," Roy stated.

"First of all, I don't know how much the chief told you about his condition..."

"I told them he'd been very roughly handled," Chief Pratt supplied. "I figured we could fill them in once they got here."

"Look, Sergeant," Crockett interjected. "We have an idea what to expect. John wasn't this man's first victim."

Buck digested that information and nodded grimly. "Okay, just so you realize he's had a bad time. When I found him, he was pretty out of it... like he wasn't even sure where he was. He still won't talk much. I've only heard him say a few words since he's been here."

"Have you taken him to a doctor?" Roy asked with concern.

Buck shook his head. "Like I told you, he was pretty spooked. I didn't want to take him to a big, noisy hospital. I was planning on having our local doc take a look at him, but I nixed that when we found out you were coming. I figured he'd be better off with somebody he knew. But as far as the things I've seen... his back is a road map of scars... some old, some fairly recent. He's got a few other scars, too, as well as a bum leg. Now, that's just what I can see, mind you."

The paramedic's face had gone grim. "I've made arrangements for him to be checked out when we get back home."

Buck nodded his approval. "Okay, here's what I plan to do. When we get to the living room, let me go outside and bring John in. I want to let him know you're here. I don't really want to spring this on him out of the blue."

He gave them a smile to ease the tension. "Then, my wife has enough dinner made for an army, so you're all invited to stay and eat. John's as thin as a rail... probably hasn't been eating much lately, although my wife has tried to remedy that all by herself."

That finally got him a smile from both men.

"We'll play that part by ear," Roy conceded. "Can we go see Johnny now?"

Buck nodded and led the way back up the walk to his front door. When they got into the living room, Crockett settled on the couch, but Roy remained standing. Buck regarded the man sympathetically. He was obviously full of barely suppressed emotions and could hardly stay still. Buck was pretty sure that as soon as he stepped outside, the paramedic would start pacing.

Leaving their new guests in the hands of Chief Pratt, Buck slid the screen door open and walked out onto the patio. Teresa was out here with John and the girls. When she saw him, her eyes met his questioningly.

Buck nodded and Teresa scooped Maria up from the grass and called the girls to come help her in the kitchen, leaving Buck to talk to John alone.

* * *

Roy watched Buck walk outside and couldn't help himself. He moved over to a smaller window, fairly sure he wouldn't be seen by anyone in the yard. When he spotted Johnny, his breath caught in his throat. It had taken him so long to finally come to terms with the fact that Johnny was in all probability dead. Even when he'd gotten the telephone call from Crockett and he'd heard the detective's words on the phone, Roy still hadn't completely processed the turn of events. Now, to see his friend sitting there on the swing - to know for certain that Johnny had somehow managed to survive over a year and half in the company of a crazed murderer - it was almost too much to take in.

His eyes never left his partner as Buck walked over and sat down in the other swing. Johnny was listening intently to what the officer was telling him. They were too far away for Roy to hear what was being said, but he did see Johnny's face grow suddenly frightened, and he started shaking his head.

Roy had thought he was familiar with his friend's body language, but he couldn't recall ever seeing Johnny so panicked. Roy's first impulse was to run out there, to make sure his partner was all right, but before he could make a move, he felt a restraining hand on his arm. He turned to see Crockett standing beside him.

"Let Buck handle it," the lieutenant advised. "If you go running out there, you might make it worse."

Roy wasn't sure he agreed with that, but he stayed put, reluctantly watching the scene in the backyard, feeling like a sidelined quarterback. All his instincts as a friend and as a paramedic were telling him to act - to move, but he stayed where he was, fists clenched in helpless frustration.

Buck was still talking, and seemed to have calmed Johnny down. The two men got up from the swings and started walking slowly toward the house. Roy noticed the pronounced limp in his friend's gait, the hesitant approach, and as they drew nearer, the gauntness of his face and the haunted look in his eyes.

Roy moved away from the window, fighting to keep his emotions in check. It was finally sinking in what Buck had meant about taking things easy. The last thing Roy wanted to do was to frighten Johnny.

As the screen door slid open, Roy held his breath.

* * *

The fog that had enshrouded Johnny for so long was slowly lifting and it frightened him. He felt safe in the blurred haze, where nothing mattered and there was no pain. There was no time there - no past, no future - only the security of the cocoon. In the last few days, however, there had been moments of clarity. Nothing precise or definite, but patchy areas that left him feeling fearful and anxious.

He had found a sanctuary of sorts here in this house, with this family. Feeling protected, Johnny had been venturing out of himself little bits at a time, testing the waters. Now, however, the anxiety had returned and was nearly overwhelming.

The man beside him was his only anchor to that feeling of safety. Johnny had come to trust Buck, to feel secure in his presence. That trust was the only thing that kept him walking to the house.

Some old friends were anxious to see him, Buck had said. Old friends. Old friends belonged to the dark place, that pit that loomed just outside the fog. There were faces there, faces that he didn't want to see. He had done everything he could for so long to keep those haunting images at bay, and now he was being asked to confront them. He didn't want to, but Buck was beside him, holding his arm, prodding him on when he dragged his feet.

"It's gonna be okay, John," came the soothing voice. "I'm right here with you. You're safe."

Buck kept up those words of comfort as they reached the sliding glass door. Johnny swallowed hard, but a soft whimper of fear managed to escape just the same. Buck's hand moved from his arm to the middle of Johnny's back in a gesture of support.

"Nobody wants to hurt you, John. It's all right."

Johnny would never have been able to keep walking if he hadn't had Buck's voice to focus on. They stepped over the threshold and into the living room.

As Johnny caught sight of the two men who stood there waiting for them, he drew his breath in sharply and his mind reeled, bringing up a nightmare image as vivid as if it were happening here and now.

The blast from the gun nearly deafened him. He stared in mute horror as Roy was thrown up against the squad by the bullet's impact. A second shot, and Johnny was screaming futilely into the tape that kept his mouth closed. He couldn't turn away, and as he watched, Roy's body slipped down to hang lifeless against a backdrop of red.

Johnny's heart was racing, his breath coming faster and faster. This was wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

No! You promised! You said you wouldn't hurt him. I told you I'd go with you! You promised you wouldn't hurt him!

Something was wrong with him. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He stumbled backwards into Buck, who caught him before he fell.

"John!" Buck's voice seemed far away, as if he were in a tunnel. "John! It's okay. Calm down."

Tiny black pinpoints were clouding his vision and his legs buckled under him. Strong arms kept him from falling and lowered him to sit on the floor. He desperately tried to draw air into his lungs, but he felt like he was suffocating. A reassuring voice suddenly sounded in his ear, replacing the nightmare that had filled his mind.

"Here, breathe into this."

Someone tried to place a bag over his mouth. Johnny batted at it weakly, but he couldn't move it away.

"This will help, breathe into this. Try and take slow breaths."

There was that steady voice again. Johnny fixed on it, finding himself compelled to obey. He slowly began to come back to himself. His breathing eased and he realized suddenly it wasn't Buck talking to him. He took several deep, relieved breaths before he opened his eyes to stare up at the face looking down at him.

No! You're dead. I killed you.

"That's better. You're doing great."

And then Roy smiled at him.

Johnny couldn't stand it anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, blocking out the vision.

"No," he moaned softly. "You can't be here. I... I k-killed you."

The bag was moved away from his mouth and Johnny suddenly felt someone place a cool rag against his head.

"You didn't kill anybody, Junior," Roy's voice was quiet and calming. "I'm here and I'm alive. You're not seeing things."

Johnny slowly opened his eyes. Roy was still here, his blue eyes full of emotion and brimming with unshed tears. The younger man reached out a tentative hand to let his fingers touch lightly on his friend's arm. Roy felt solid enough, but after all this time it wasn't easy to accept.

"But..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. It was hard to talk and his voice was barely a whisper. "I s-saw him. He had the gun..."

Roy nodded and let a smile play on his face.. "You know me, I'm too stubborn to die."

Johnny stared at him in wonder. "But... but he told me..." He met Roy's steady gaze. "He told me you d-died," he stated in a quavering voice. "He told me he read it in the paper." Johnny felt his control slipping and his throat growing tight with emotion. "He... he told me..." He couldn't continue. He couldn't tell Roy about the delight the man had taken in relating the details of Roy's death, how he told Johnny Roy had hung from the squad undiscovered until early in the morning - how the coroner concluded that the paramedic had slowly bled to death and had suffered for hours until he finally succumbed. How he'd told Johnny over and over again that it was his fault his partner had died - that if he'd let well enough alone, Roy would never have been shot.

"He lied to you, Johnny." Roy's voice turned harsh with that judgment.

Johnny lowered his head and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to hold himself together. It was all falling apart, and he felt like he was losing himself to the darkness. All the murky memories that had lurked at the edge of his consciousness were now there in plain view. He couldn't hide from them anymore, and now everyone else would be able to see them. His whole body began to tremble with the weight of what he was going to have to remember for the rest of his life.

"Johnny?"

He felt a hand come down on his shoulder and he jerked away from it, scrambling on all fours over to a corner of the room.

Hands, hands all over him... his hands. A face... a sweating, panting face...

The image was gone as quickly as it had come, but it left a sick feeling in the pit of Johnny's stomach. He gave a small groan of hopelessness and buried his head in his hands. He felt drained, like all the energy had left his body and he leaned forward, unable to support the weight of his despair.

"It's gonna be okay, Johnny. Everything's gonna be all right now."

Roy's voice filtered through his blurred senses and Johnny realized he was curled up on the floor. His head was leaning against his partner's leg, but other than that, there was no physical contact between them. It was very quiet, and he could sense that the others in the room had withdrawn and left the two friends alone. Johnny would have been content to stay like this. He felt peaceful, like he hadn't felt in a long time. He let go a weary sigh.

"You okay?" Roy asked quietly.

Johnny shrugged, then gave his head a small shake. "I... I don't think so," he admitted huskily.

"Just remember, I'm right here," Roy said firmly. "Whatever happens next, you're not alone."

Johnny nodded, not trusting his voice. He breathed out shakily and reluctantly sat up, wrapping his arms around himself again.

"Are... are we going h-home tonight?" he asked in a low voice.

"Well, that was the plan," Roy told him. "But it's getting kind of late to be heading back. Maybe if they have a motel around, we can start in the morning." Roy leaned forward a little to catch Johnny's eyes. "What do you want to do."

Johnny started to shrug, but his stomach rumbled loudly, causing him to drop his eyes in embarrassment.

"I guess that answers my question," Roy chuckled. "I have it on good authority that Buck's wife is a great cook. I say we stay for dinner."

Johnny glanced up at his friend. He was so mixed up. There was a part of him that was overjoyed to see Roy alive and well and ready to take him home. But home to what? Could he ever have the life he had before? Could things ever really be the way they were? He was afraid to find out, afraid of what people would think of him, of what Roy would think of him. That was the part of him that was more than willing to delay the inevitable. He nodded his agreement to Roy's suggestion.

"Dinner sounds just fine," he murmured.

* * *

Roy couldn't sleep, and he didn't think it was because of the amount of enchiladas he'd eaten or the Barbie decor of the bedroom he was occupying. It probably had something to do with the fact that every ten minutes or so he found himself glancing over at the bed across the room to be sure Johnny was still in it. His mind still wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't all some big hallucination.

Dinner had been a comfortable affair. Teresa had turned out to be not just a great cook, but a warm, attentive hostess, making sure everyone had plenty to eat. The girls had been a bit intimidated at first with the extra adults in the house, but had soon overcome that and had filled the air with their chatter. Watching them, Roy found himself missing his own kids, even though he'd only been away from them for a day.

Roy had tried not to be obvious as he kept an eye on Johnny. His partner was seated next to him and paid little attention to the conversation going on around him. He responded to any direct questions but never offered more than the briefest of answers. The younger man was eating, but slowly, as if it were an effort. At one point Roy happened to catch Buck watching Johnny with concern and knew he wasn't the only one worried. The paramedic hoped it was only the shock of their meeting and that, over time, Johnny would relax and be more himself.

Roy turned over in the bed and snorted at his own stupidity. He didn't know what he'd expected to find when he got here. Did he think Johnny would be here waiting for him, all smiles, ready to regale them with stories of his harrowing months of captivity?

He glanced over at the other bed, at the dark mop of hair that was all he could see of his friend. During those first few months after Johnny had been taken, Roy had gone over and over in his mind all the horrible things that might be happening to his partner. He'd read the reports on the other fireman and knew they'd been tortured in ways that could only be described as sick. But to have Johnny here, alive, and now have to deal with the repercussions of what may have been done to him - Roy wasn't sure he could handle that. What he did know was that the man he'd seen crawling away from him in the throes of fear and absolute panic was not his confident, carefree friend, and he wondered if in the end, Johnny would still be lost to him.

He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. After dinner, when Roy had asked about a motel in the area, both Buck and Teresa had insisted they stay here. Not really wanting to drag Johnny into a strange situation if he didn't have to, Roy accepted their invitation. Crockett was put in the guest room, while Roy and Johnny took over the two twin beds in Sylvia's room. The nine year old was bedding down on her parents' floor. Roy had called Joanne to let her know they wouldn't be home tonight. He'd also called Dr. Brackett and made arrangements to bring Johnny in discreetly for the doctor to give him a thorough examination. That was something Roy wasn't looking forward to. He had no idea how Johnny would handle it, especially given his earlier reaction to a mere touch on the shoulder.

A soft moan turned Roy's attention back to the other bed. Johnny was stirring restlessly, his hands clutching frantically at the sheets. When the moan turned to a choked sob, Roy sat up in bed.

"Johnny?" he called quietly, not wanting to startle his friend or disturb anyone else in the house. "Johnny, you okay?"

The only answer was another stifled cry. Roy threw off his sheet and moved to stand beside the other bed. Johnny's sheets were in a tangle, his legs moving frantically, as if he was trying to get away from something.

"Johnny," Roy called again. He reached out a hand, but stopped short of touching the tormented man's shoulder. "Johnny, wake up."

* * *

It was dark and he could barely breathe. His tongue was thick in his mouth and he was thirsty. He hurt. God, his arms and wrists hurt. How long was he going to hang here? He couldn't think anymore. Was he drugged? He thought he remembered being given a shot... shot... a gunshot... Roy... where was Roy?

You're friend is dead. You killed him... You killed him... We're alone now... you and me... we're going to have fun... will you play with me?

Pain... pain across his back... a swish and then pain like fire all over his back...

You have to learn... if you don't obey the rules... you have to know the consequences.

Water... water finally trickling over his lips to run down his parched throat. He drank greedily, aware at last he was no longer hanging. He was sitting somewhere, propped against something soft... comforting arms around him, holding the cup...

I can be nice... I can be so nice... That's all I wanted from them is to let me be nice...

Cooling water sponged the welts on his back... taking away the pain... gentle hands rubbing the aches out of tender shoulders and arms... a deep voice whispering huskily in his ear...

Let me show you how nice I can be...

Those hands... moving slowly down his arms... over his chest... his stomach... stopping when they reached his belt buckle... then moving again...

"Noooo!" Johnny's eyes shot open. It was dark and he was afraid - of the dream, of the voice, of the memory.

"Johnny?"

The voice at his side whipped him around. Seeing only the gray outline of a man in the dark room, he scooted frantically as far away as he could. His heart was slamming against his chest as he sat there cowering against the wall, listening to his own harsh breathing, waiting for the figure to come closer.

But it didn't. It moved away slightly, never once trying to touch him. He felt his heart rate slow and his breathing relax slightly. And then a voice - but it wasn't his voice, and Johnny knew instinctively he didn't have to be afraid.

"It was a dream... just a dream. You're safe. I won't let anybody hurt you anymore."

Roy... it's Roy... it's Roy...

Johnny closed his eyes for a moment. "You're really not dead?" he whispered.

"I'm really not dead," Roy promised resolutely.

A soft knock on the door turned them both to see a shaft of light from the hall break into the room as Buck opened it slightly. The sudden illumination let Johnny see Roy's face clearly and he felt all his tensed muscles relax.

"Everything okay in here?" the officer asked in concern.

"Yeah, just a bad dream," Roy reassured their host quietly.

"John?"

Johnny let out a shaky breath. "Yeah," he answered, hoping he didn't sound as unsteady as he felt.

Buck seemed satisfied. He closed the door, but not before he reminded them not to hesitate to call him if they needed him.

It was silent for a time, until Roy spoke up.

"He seems like a real nice guy."

It was a casual comment, normal conversation, and Johnny felt a weight lift. Roy wasn't going to press for details of his dream.

"He's nice," Johnny managed to respond, then his voice grew a bit stronger. "He helped me."

"I'm sure glad he did," Roy declared. He was quiet a moment, then stood up. "Think you can go back to sleep?"

Johnny moved slowly away from the wall. "Yeah," he murmured, wondering if he really would be able to. He heard Roy getting into his bed, the sound of the sheets and pillow being rearranged. Then it was quiet.

Johnny sat on his bed, not yet able to lie back down. He wasn't ready to face the dreams again. The silence in the room was unnerving. He knew Roy was just across the room, not more than a few feet, but Johnny felt alone and unprotected sitting here and that mind numbing panic lurked just on the edge of his control.

Impulsively, he grabbed his pillow and slid down onto the floor. He didn't want to disturb Roy, so he made his way slowly, on all fours, over to the other side of the room. When he felt the wooden frame of the twin bed, he settled down on the carpeted floor. He felt more secure knowing Roy was asleep in the bed above him. Laying his head on the pillow, he sighed, this time more with relief than weariness. He closed his eyes, still wary of dreams, but before he drifted off he felt a hand rest briefly on his head, then move away. There was no terror in that gesture, only comfort, and he took that feeling with him into sleep.

* * *

Thursday

Roy managed to sleep the rest of the night, grateful that Johnny, too, seemed to have gotten a more peaceful rest. The first thing Roy did when he opened his eyes was to lean over the edge of the bed. Johnny was still there, lying on his side and snoring softly.

Maybe having Johnny close by was as helpful to me as it was to him.

Roy smiled at the thought. Just like so long ago in the dorm, he considered again how many nights he'd fallen asleep listening to the rhythm of Johnny's breathing a few feet away. Of course, there were four other guys in the dorm who all contributed to the familiar sounds of a night on shift, but Johnny had always been there beside him, barely an arm's reach away. Roy realized anew just how much he'd missed that while Johnny was gone. He supposed it was a lot like sharing a room with a kid brother. There were times when you wanted to strangle him, but if he happened to spend the night at a friend's, the room seemed very empty.

Roy yawned and briefly considered closing his eyes and catching a few more z's, but he could hear muted sounds from the rest of the house and decided he might as well get up. They had a long drive ahead of them, and he'd told Dr. Brackett to expect them around noon.

Roy climbed out of bed, careful to step over Johnny, and started to get dressed. Neither he nor Crockett had planned on staying the night, so Roy didn't have a change of clothes. He figured he could just shower and change after they got home. As he sat down on a small desk chair to put his shoes on, he noticed Johnny was awake.

"Mornin'," Roy greeted quietly, not wanting to startle his friend.

Johnny blinked at him a few times, then sat up. His eyes darted over to the empty bed, then moved to Roy with a hint of chagrin.

Roy just flashed a quick smile, choosing not to discuss the happenings of the night.

"You might want to get a move on," he suggested with a chuckle. "I can smell breakfast cooking."

Johnny regarded him in silence for a moment, then got stiffly to his feet. He limped over to where he'd left his clothes and quickly pulled them on. Roy watched his friend wince as he pulled on his shirt, and had to restrain himself from going over and helping. The paramedic in him, as well as the friend, was anxious to make sure Johnny was okay, but he held back. They'd be at Rampart soon enough. And that was something he needed to let Johnny know now, before they ever started out. The last thing he wanted was to spring any surprises.

"Johnny..." He paused, and waited until the younger man stopped what he was doing and looked up at him. "Johnny, I wanted to let you know what's on tap for today."

Johnny raised quizzical eyebrows. "You said we were going home."

Roy nodded. "We are, but... I want to swing by Rampart first. I already talked to Brackett..."

Johnny shook his head, his eyes wide. "I don't want to," he whispered, his voice desperate. He lowered his head. "Please don't make me do that."

Roy felt like a heel, but he knew Johnny needed to be checked out. And it wasn't totally up to Roy anyway. Brackett would insist, and Crockett would demand it. The paramedic breathed a weary sigh.

"I know you don't want to," he replied gently. "But it's something you need to do. Look, Johnny... it'll be Brackett, maybe Early. You know both of them. And I'll be there... if you want me to."

Johnny sat on the bed, his arms wrapped around himself in that protective gesture Roy was becoming familiar with. He didn't say anything and he made no move to finish getting dressed. Roy came over and squatted down in front of his friend, being careful not to actually touch him. He was fast learning there were times Johnny would tolerate a touch, and definitely times he wouldn't.

"Johnny... I could sit here and give you a list of reasons why you need to be examined, but the only one I give a damn about is to find out if you're okay. So can you do that for me?"

Johnny sat still for another long moment, but at last he lifted his gaze to meet Roy's. There was such a haunted look in those dark eyes that Roy could barely keep the contact.

"I want you to," he said softly.

"Want me to what?" Roy asked in confusion.

"Be there," Johnny answered. He let his arms relax finally and reached down to get his forgotten shoe. "I want you to be there."

Roy retrieved Johnny's other shoe and handed it to the younger man. "I will," he promised. "I won't let you out of my sight."

With Johnny finally dressed and ready, the two men walked out to join everyone else.

Breakfast was the typical controlled chaos Roy was very familiar with when children were rushing to get ready for school. Buck was off today and sat at the table watching his wife try and keep things organized. Teresa kept apologizing for the confusion, but Roy and Crockett both assured her they were used to it. Johnny was quiet, but he managed to eat most of his breakfast.

Before long it was time for the girls to leave. Rosa rushed over to fling her arms around Johnny in an enthusiastic hug.

"Bye, Johnny," she told him with a big smile. "Can you come back and see us soon?"

Johnny returned the little girl's smile. "If I can," he promised softly.

Sylvia was standing beside her sister. She was more hesitant about hugging their guest. She stood there undecided until Johnny suddenly reached up and tweaked her nose.

For Roy, it was a bittersweet moment. It was such a familiar gesture, it could have been Jennifer standing there being teased by her Uncle Johnny, something Roy had thought would never happen again. For Sylvia, it made her laugh and she bent down to give Johnny a quick hug goodbye.

Once the two older girls were gone, and the younger ones busy watching television, the adults lingered for a few minutes over coffee, savoring the peace and quiet. Finally, though, Crockett caught Roy's eye and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Roy nodded. It was time they got going as well. He got up from the table and took his cup to the sink. When he returned, he stood beside Johnny, knowing this was going to be hard for his friend.

"I think we better hit the road," he announced calmly. "We've got a bit of a drive."

"Roy's right," the detective agreed. "We appreciate your hospitality." He patted his stomach. "And all the meals," he added with a grin.

Teresa laughed. "This was nothing. Come back when I have more time to plan. Then you'll see what a fiesta we will have." The two of them headed for the door.

Johnny got up slowly, his eyes on the floor. Roy could see how tense the younger man was, and he wished he could wave some kind of magic wand and make it all better. But this was something they were all going to have to get through.

Buck must have sensed Johnny's hesitancy. The officer came over and reached a hand.

"John, It's been a pleasure having you here, if only for a little while, but I'm glad we were able to find your friends for you."

Roy watched as Johnny silently shook Buck's hand. Even though he didn't say anything, Buck smiled anyway.

"You're welcome here any time. If you ever need anything, you know where we are."

Johnny nodded once. "Thank you," he managed to answer.

Teresa came over and took the hand her husband had just shook in both of her own and clasped it tightly.

"Adios, Juanito," she told him with tears in here eyes. "Vaya con Dios."

Johnny whispered his thanks in such a low voice, Roy could barely hear him. But when he started for the front door, Johnny was beside him. The two younger girls had their turn to bid their new friend good-bye and then they were finally out the door and in the car.

Roy glanced at his watch as they pulled out of the driveway. It was around 8:30. Not too bad, he supposed. By the time they hit the city, traffic shouldn't be bad. He turned to look at Johnny in the back seat. The younger man had settled against the corner sideways, his right leg propped up on the seat. He was awake, but Roy knew they wouldn't get much conversation from him during the long trip home.

Behind the wheel, Crockett was quiet at well. Roy knew the detective was frustrated. He had been eager to talk to Johnny - to get answers to the many questions that were still unanswered about this case. As a policeman, Crockett's first priority would be to find out if this madman was still on the loose, ready to grab somebody else now that he didn't have Johnny for his peculiar form of entertainment. And there were other questions. Johnny had not only survived his time with this man, but had either gotten away or had been let go. Crockett was itching to solve these mysteries, but in a conversation he'd had with Roy last night, out of Johnny's earshot, the detective had agreed to wait and see what Brackett said before he pressed Johnny about anything.

Roy was grateful to the lieutenant for a lot of things, not the least of which was his refusal to give up on the search, but he knew how persistently the man could go after something when he thought it was important. So the paramedic was doubly thankful that Crockett was being sensitive to Johnny's state of mind and not pushing things right now.

Roy stared out the window, his thoughts far away. There were so many things they were all going to have to deal with. His mind replayed the phone call he had with Joanne last night. She'd been anxious about how to handle Johnny's homecoming. They had agreed it might be better to have the kids stay with the neighbors, at least for the first couple of hours, and let Johnny make the transition gradually. Joanne had been especially worried about Missy and what to tell Johnny. Roy had placated his wife with assurances that they would cross that bridge when they came to it. He certainly was more concerned with getting Johnny through the rest of this day before he worried about the next, but he knew Joanne had a valid point. At some point, Johnny would have to be told about his child, and Roy and Joanne could very possibly have to face the prospect of giving up the little girl who had become a part of their hearts.

Roy cast another glance at the back seat. Johnny appeared to have dozed off, which was probably for the best. The closer they got to home, the more nervous Johnny would be. At least this way, he would be spared some of the anxiety.