Johnny stood looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd worn it long for such a long time, it was hard to get used to it this way.

I'm never letting you cut your hair, Johnny. I really like it long.

"Shut up," he whispered fiercely. He leaned his hands onto the sink and closed his eyes tightly. "You can't tell me what to do anymore. Get outta my head!"

He opened his eyes slowly. He could see his knuckles, white from gripping the edge of the counter top. His gazed traveled up to the raised scars on his wrists, to his abdomen where the fine white scars from the knife were harder to see against his pale skin.

You're mine, Johnny. From here on everyone will know you're mine. Every good collector has his mark.

He lifted one hand and let his fingers trace the three straight lines just under his left ribs. The others had the mark too. They'd been too badly burned by the fire for the coroner to see, but Johnny had seen the pictures. They all wore his mark.

But I'm not dead. He didn't kill me. Why didn't I just let him kill me?

He jerked his t-shirt on over his head, still not used to the loss of his hair.

Such long, silky black hair... I love to touch it...

"Damn it, you're dead! Just leave me alone. You can't touch me anymore, so just go away!"

He picked up the comb and ran it roughly through his hair. Joanne had left enough that it could still get tangled and he welcomed the pain as he pulled at the snarls.

When he was done, he cast one more look at himself. "Joanne was right," he said softly to his reflection. "It is a new start. It's better this way."

He left the bathroom and made his way downstairs. His knee was aching and he had to cling to the banister in order to keep his balance.

When he entered the living room, he found Joanne sitting on couch, a concerned look on her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "I mean, about the hair cut."

"I'm fine, Jo. Don't worry." He came over and sat down beside her.

"Doctor Brackett called while you were in the shower," she told him. "He said you can stop taking the antibiotic." She gave him a quick smile. "Guess that's good news."

"Yeah, it is." Although bringing home that kind of souvenir from his ordeal hadn't been his biggest concern, he was glad he wouldn't have to worry about it. He leaned his head back against the couch, wondering if Joanne even knew why Brackett had started him on the medicine in the first place. He hoped not. He let his gaze move to the coffee table, where Joanne had several photo albums, and he leaned forward to see what they were.

"I thought you might want to see some of Missy's baby pictures... stuff you weren't here for."

He looked at the thick albums, then over at the baby, who was busy chewing on a squeaky duck. He sat back without touching the books.

He heard a sigh from Joanne and knew he'd probably disappointed her, but she didn't say anything. She merely got up and headed to the stairs.

"Can you keep an eye on Missy for me?" she asked. "I have some cleaning to do upstairs."

He glanced at the baby again. "Okay," he sighed. When he heard Joanne's footsteps on the stairs, he reached over and picked up an album. At first, he flipped the pages quickly, but then he found himself slowing down, actually looking at the photos. There were so many, he wondered how Roy afforded all the film.

A small hand suddenly grabbed the edge of the album. Johnny lifted his eyes to see his daughter staring at him.

"You wanna see these?" he asked her.

"Da-da," she crowed as she reached for him to pick her up.

"Yeah, that's me," he told her with a smile. He lifted her to sit beside him, and he showed her the page he was looking at.

They were arranged chronologically, from Missy as a newborn to the latest shots of her first birthday party. Johnny spent time going over all of them. Missy would occasionally help him by slapping a page and naming a familiar face. Her frequent cries of "Nenny," "Ris," "Ma-ma," and "Bapa" brought a smile to his lips. Once or twice she bent down and tried to kiss a picture of Roy or Joanne and Johnny actually laughed as he wiped drool off the plastic page covers.

"You're gonna get us both in trouble," he told her, as he leaned his head down and touched foreheads with her. She laughed and reached up and grabbed his nose. "Hey," he protested weakly. "I don't think you're taking me seriously here, little girl."

Johnny lifted his head at the ringing of the doorbell. He glanced at the stairs, expecting Joanne to come down and answer it. She didn't appear and the bell rang again. Johnny got up and went over to the bottom of the stairs.

"Jo? Somebody's at the door."

"Damn it."

He smiled at her soft curse. He'd almost never heard Joanne swear. Her head popped out of the hall bathroom, rubber gloves on her arms and a sponge in her hand.

"I'm right in the middle of cleaning here. Can you get it, Johnny? It's probably just the mailman. My mom sent the kids some things for their Easter baskets."

Johnny glanced over at the front door, a knot forming in his stomach.

It's just the mailman. It's only the mailman...

"Okay," he finally answered, hearing the bell one more time.

He picked up Melissa and put her back in the playpen, much to her displeasure.

"It's okay, baby," he hushed. "Just for a minute. I don't trust you with those albums."

He finally made his way to the door. Grabbing the knob, he took a deep breath.

You can do this. Just open the damn door.

He pulled the door open.

A blinding glare caused him to throw his hands up to his face. Off balance, he stumbled over the threshold and found himself on the porch. He fell back against the wall of the house, eyes watering from the light. He could barely make out the figures in front of him.

"Mr. Gage, Mr. Gage... I'm Candi Slayton, KHJ News. This is Russ Lathom, L.A. Times. Can you answer a few questions for us?"

"Wha... What do you want?"

Something was shoved into his face, and he backed further against the house.

"What was it like to be held captive for so long?"

"Wha... I don't know... I..."

"How were you treated?"

"I..." Like shit... like a king... Take your pick.

"Can you explain why he let you go when the other firemen were killed?"

"Yeah... um, I mean, no... I..." He didn't let me go... He was never gonna let me go...

"How did you survive all this time?"

"Uh... I don't know..." God, why are you asking me this? Why are you here? Jo... where's Joanne? He glanced around, looking for a way out of this.

"Mr. Gage, is it true that you were forced to have sexual relations with this man?"

His heart nearly stopped in his chest, and he suddenly couldn't seem to draw a breath.

Oh, God... they know what happened... Roy said nobody would know... Roy said it was confidential...

"Mr. Gage, can you answer the question? Is it true that you had a sexual relationship with your kidnapper?"

Just tell her the truth, Johnny... of course we did. And you loved it... at least you told me you did. Were you lying to me, Johnny? You know what happens when you lie to me...

No... go away... go away... I didn't lie... I didn't lie...

He tried to breathe, but he couldn't seem to get any air.

"What was that? We didn't get that, Mr. Gage?"

The reporter's voice was fading. The world around him was going gray. He felt the rough stucco scrape against his tender back as he sank down the wall.

* * *

Joanne pulled off the rubber gloves and tossed them into the sink. Missy had started crying when Johnny went to answer the door. Joanne had chalked that up to her being ignored, but the noise hadn't stopped and it had been more than enough time for Johnny to take care of the packages and get back to the baby. Her maternal instincts on alert, she left her cleaning and went downstairs to see what was happening.

The first thing she saw was Missy standing in her playpen, sobbing. When she saw Joanne, her cries intensified and she held out her hands to be picked up. Joanne scooped her up and held her close, trying to quiet her.

"Shhh... sweetie, it's okay. It's okay. Where's Daddy? Hmmm? Where's Daddy?"

She bounced a bit, and turned around, spying the open photo albums on the couch. As Missy's crying subsided, Joanne became aware of the sound of voices at the door.

"Johnny?" She walked toward the door. "Johnny? Who's..."

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the couple on her porch. They were obviously reporters. Behind them, another man held a large camera to his shoulder. All three people had been focused on something to the side of the door, but they glanced up guiltily when they saw Joanne.

"What's going on here?" she demanded hotly. "Where's Johnny?"

She saw their eyes move and she took a step outside.

"Oh my God!"

Johnny was on the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, his knees drawn up. Joanne sank to her knees beside him, Missy balanced on one hip.

"Johnny? Johnny, are you okay?"

His eyes were shut tight, and the only response she got was a slight whimpering sound. She turned outraged eyes on the news people.

"What did you do to him?" she demanded. "What happened?"

"We didn't do anything," the woman answered quickly. "We just wanted to talk to him, ask him a few questions."

"He just kinda keeled over," the man added defensively.

Joanne suddenly realized that the entire episode was being captured on film. Incensed, she rose to her feet, her face red with anger.

"Get out of here."

"But... maybe we can..."

Joanne pointed to their van, parked in the street. "I said get out of here now!"

The reporters exchanged glances, then made a hasty retreat to the sidewalk. The camera man still kept shooting.

Joanne ignored them and turned back to Johnny. She knelt down, using her body to shield him from the camera, and tried to put her hand on his arm, but he shied away from her, his breathing getting more and more rapid.

"It's gonna be okay, Johnny. Just hold on."

Roy... I need to call Roy... But I can't just leave him here with those vultures...

"Joanne... Joanne. What's wrong? I heard all the commotion. What's happened?"

Joanne glanced up to see Norma coming up the steps, her weathered face concerned.

"Oh, Norma, I'm so glad you're here," Joanne breathed. "Stay here with Johnny. I have to go call Roy."

Assured that Johnny would be well guarded, Joanne raced into the house and grabbed up the telephone. She dialed the station direct. She didn't want this to go through dispatch. As she listened to the ringing on the other end, she prayed they weren't out on a run.

* * *

Roy sat on the couch, absently rubbing Henry's ears as he tried to read the paper. It had been a slow morning, which was both good and bad. It was good that he didn't have to sit in the squad and be civil to Brad Martin. The bad part was that he had to stay at the station and listen to all the guys trying to be discreet as they each made sure he knew they supported his actions and were behind him all the way.

Roy was embarrassed enough about what he'd done without adding all the attention from his co-workers. Not that he regretted sticking up for Johnny, but to lose control at work like that was not something he was proud of. Cap was right about that. Fighting was no way to help his partner - his real partner.

He tried to take a sip of coffee and winced. The cut on his lip was another reminder of his less than stellar behavior this morning. His only consolation on that score was that Brad's eye had turned a colorful purple and would probably stay that way for several days.

The phone rang just as Roy was folding up the paper, ready to toss it aside. Cap picked it up before Roy could get off the couch.

"Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking. He sure is, Joanne... what's that? Okay, hold on a minute... "

Roy got up as Cap held out the phone.

"She sounds upset," Hank told him as he handed off the receiver.

That didn't bode well, and Roy took the phone with a great deal of apprehension.

"Hi, honey, what's up?"

Roy... Roy you need to get over here... Something's wrong with Johnny and I can't get him to talk to me...

She was talking so fast, he could barely make out what she was telling him.

"Jo... Joanne, calm down a minute. What happened? What's wrong with Johnny?"

There were reporters here... they tried to talk to him. Roy, please come home... I don't know what's wrong with him.

"Okay. Just stay calm, Jo. We'll be right there."

Roy hung up and turned to see Captain Stanley standing next to him, his face concerned.

"Something's going on with Johnny," Roy informed his superior. "We need a still alarm called in at my house."

Roy headed out to the squad, hollering for Brad. He barely registered Cap making the call to dispatch as he slid behind the wheel and automatically donned his helmet.

"You need us on this?" Cap asked, suddenly at Roy's elbow.

"Not yet. I don't want a crowd." Roy was aware that Brad had climbed into the passenger seat, and he started the engine. He glanced up at Hank. "Can you call the police, Cap? Joanne said something about reporters at the house. I want 'em gone."

He saw Cap nod crisply as the squad pulled out of the station.

Roy was fairly sure he broke several major traffic laws. Even emergency vehicles had to obey basic safety rules. He didn't really care at the moment. He just wanted to get home.

As he reached his neighborhood he cut the siren. There was no use announcing their presence to the whole world, although as he turned onto his street he could see there was already a crowd gathered around his house.

"Damn it, damn it," he muttered as he pulled up to the curb, noting the large news van partially blocking his driveway. "Get the drug box and the biophone," Roy ordered sharply as he pushed open the door and jumped out of the squad. He didn't wait to see if Brad was coming or not.

He raced up the front lawn, pushing past his curious neighbors until he got to his front porch. He saw Norma Crawford standing there holding Missy and doing her best to block anyone's view. Joanne was kneeling down on the ground, and Johnny was curled up in a ball beside her.

Roy touched his wife's shoulder to let her know he was here. She glanced up, her eyes filled with tears.

"Roy," she breathed out in relief. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Let me in there, sweetheart," he said, giving her arm a comforting squeeze as she stood up and moved aside.

Roy took off his helmet and tossed it aside as he knelt beside his partner.

"Johnny? Johnny, it's Roy. Everything's okay now. I just wanna check you out, okay?"

He didn't get a response. Johnny's entire body was tensed. His fists were clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. Roy could hear the younger man's rapid breathing. He reached out to try and take Johnny's wrist to get a reading on his pulse, but as soon as he touched the frightened man, Johnny tried to pull even farther away.

Brad was suddenly beside him, setting down the equipment. "What's going on with him?"

Roy shook his head. "Some sort of panic attack. He's done this before, but never this bad." He looked over his shoulder at Joanne. "What exactly happened?" he asked.

Joanne was trying very hard not to cry. "I just asked him to answer the door. I thought it was the mailman. Roy, I'm so sorry. I thought it was the mailman. But it was them." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the reporters, who were still trying to get footage of what was happening. "They were asking him questions. When I came out to see what was going on, Johnny was like this, and they were just standing there filming him."

Roy shot a glance over at the news crew, his anger surging. "Bastards," he murmured harshly, then turned his attention back to Johnny, working at keeping his voice calm.

"Johnny... Johnny, I need to check you out here. I'm not gonna hurt you." But his efforts to touch his friend met with the same frightened reaction. Roy ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Anything I can do?" Brad asked quietly.

Roy glanced at his partner, noticing the younger man's face was genuinely concerned. The blond paramedic shook his head. "No. I can't even get his vitals. Hand me the biophone."

Brad scooted the orange box over. Roy sighed and picked up the phone, hoping to hell Brackett was on today.

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

There was a moment of silence and then Dixie's filtered voice sounded over the biophone. "Go ahead 51."

Then Roy broke protocol. "Dix, Johnny's down. Can you put Brackett on?"

He blessed Dixie McCall for her experience and ability to make judgment calls. He might have had to argue with some other nurse. He had no doubt Dixie would do as he asked.

"10-4, 51. Stand by."

As Roy waited for Dr. Brackett, he kept an eye on Johnny. The dark haired man was still curled up in his defensive posture.

"There's blood on his back, Roy," Brad observed.

Roy leaned over and noticed the smears on Johnny's shirt. He carefully lifted the edge of the fabric and pulled it back midway. Several of his freshly healed scars had reopened. They were bleeding, but not badly.

"Looks like he scraped them," Roy commented. He glanced up and saw Brad staring open mouthed at the multitude of scars on Johnny's back. Roy let the shirt fall back and cover them, not in the mood for long explanations right now.

"Hang on, Johnny," he urged quietly. "We'll get you taken care of." The biophone suddenly came back to life.

"Roy, this is Dr. Brackett. Can you give me some details on what happened?"

Roy quickly filled the doctor in on what had transpired and on Johnny's current condition.

"Do you have his vitals?"

"Doc, he won't let me touch him. From what I can see, he's breathing very rapidly, he's extremely tense and he's diaphoretic."

There was a pause and Roy could almost see Brackett's face as he considered the options.

"Okay, Roy. Go ahead and give him 5 milligrams Diazepam IM. Do you want to bring him in?"

"I'd rather not," Roy replied. "If he responds, I'd like to keep him home."

"Okay, Roy, it's your call. Keep me updated."

"10-4, Rampart." Roy clicked off. When he set the phone down, he found the shot ready and waiting for him.

Roy took the hypo. "Thanks, Brad," he said and turned to Johnny. He reached down and placed his hand on the younger man's arm, trying to ignore how rigid the muscles became at his touch.

"It's okay, Johnny," he soothed. "I'm gonna give you a shot here... just to calm you down a little." He held out his hand and Brad gave him a swab. Roy quickly rubbed down Johnny's upper arm, trying to loosen up the muscle. It was going to be hard to get the needle in. "C'mon, Johnny," he urged softly. "I don't wanna hurt you."

His words had no visible effect and he finally had to just administer the shot the best he could. He cringed as Johnny's winced at the injection, but it was over quickly. He took another swab from Brad and rubbed the small mark left by the needle.

"Okay, all done now. That should help. Let's just take it easy for a minute."

"Cops are here, Roy," Brad told him in an undertone.

Roy glanced up to see a black and white pull up as well as an unmarked sedan. He saw Ron Crockett get out of the driver's side.

"'Bout damn time," he muttered as he saw the officers start to disperse the crowd of onlookers. Crockett approached the reporters and Roy could see them arguing with him. He shook his head in disgust at their lack of any human decency. "Probably gonna show this for the whole world to see," he said bitterly.

He turned once more to Johnny. The drug already seemed to be having some effect. The younger man's arms had relaxed and were lying loose on the porch. His eyes were still closed, but no longer squeezed shut. Roy put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Johnny... it's Roy. I'm gonna get your vitals, okay?"

He got no answer, but he went ahead and started getting the information he needed. He took Johnny's pulse, but decided against trying for respirations. Johnny's breathing had visibly slowed and Roy didn't want to upset him again by touching his abdomen. He reached for the BP cuff, but again Brad was there with it before Roy had to ask.

"All right, Johnny, I'm gonna get your BP here... that's all I'm doing." He gently lifted his friend's arm and wrapped the cuff. Johnny never made a sound of protest and Roy soon had the reading and released the velcro. He picked up the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51."

"Go ahead, Roy." The quickness of Brackett's answer let Roy know the doctor had been waiting at the base station.

"Doc, the diazepam is working. I've got vitals here. Pulse is 75, BP is 130 over 80. Respirations have slowed considerably."

"Sounds good, Roy. Is he responsive yet?"

"Not yet. I'm gonna try and move him inside the house."

"Okay. Let me know when he starts talking to you."

"10-4, Rampart."

Roy dropped the phone back into its place. He moved over and put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Let's see if we can get you inside."

He glanced back to ask Brad for help, but was surprised when he didn't see his partner. He craned his neck and spotted the younger paramedic at the end of the driveway, talking to the reporters. His opinion of the other man, which had been in the process of improving, took a sudden nosedive.

Probably over there giving an interview, he thought hotly.

He caught Joanne's eye and beckoned her closer. "You think you can help me out here? I want to get him in the house."

"Just tell me what to do," she answered willingly.

"Okay, I'm gonna take most of the weight. I need you on his other side, just help support him."

"Johnny... Joanne and I are right here. We're gonna help you up. We're just taking you in the house. We're not gonna hurt you."

The paramedic took Johnny's arm and draped it over his shoulders. Squaring his feet for balance, he stood, bringing the younger man with him. Johnny had never been heavy, and he was underweight now, but the diazepam had made his arms and legs rubbery so he was pretty much dead weight. Roy motioned for Joanne to take the other side.

"Okay, here we go." Bearing most of his friend's weight, Roy moved awkwardly into the house. They maneuvered through the entryway and into the living room. "Let's put him here on the couch, Jo. Move those albums."

"I'll do that, Roy," came Crockett's voice behind him. He slipped around them and quickly moved the coffee table and cleared off the sofa.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Roy said and then lowered Johnny down onto the cushions. Johnny made a small noise and tried to curl back up. Roy dropped to his knees.

"C'mon, Johnny, open your eyes. Tell me what's going on. I need ya to talk to me."

The dark lashes lifted lazily and Johnny's eyes moved around the room before settling on Roy. Recognition slowly dawned.

"Roy?" he croaked, his voice low and raspy.

Roy felt a heavy weight lift and a smile lit his face. "Welcome back," he said softly.

Johnny blinked slowly, as if trying to clear his vision. "I feel fuzzy."

"That'll go away after a while," he assured. "You just get some rest, okay?"

"'Kay," came the sleepy answer. The dark eyes closed for a moment, then popped open again. "Roy?"

"I'm right here."

"I didn't lie. I swear I didn't lie."

Roy frowned. "About what, Johnny? Did the reporters say you lied about something?"

"No... not them. Reggie... Reggie thinks I lied, and he won't leave me alone."

Roy felt a jolt of apprehension. He glanced up and saw Lieutenant Crockett had also picked up on what Johnny had said. It was the first mention the younger man had made of his captor. The detective nodded for Roy to try for more information. The paramedic was hesitant, not sure if this was a good idea, but he decided he would back off the instant Johnny appeared upset again.

"Can you tell me about Reggie?" he asked very gently.

Johnny's eyes seemed to focus on something far away. "Reggie's mad at me. He said not to cut my hair, and he thinks I was lying to him." Johnny shook his head and his eyes filled with tears. "I didn't lie. Tell him I didn't lie. I don't want to be punished. Please don't let him punish me. I tried so hard to be good. Don't let him punish me."

"He's not gonna hurt you, Johnny," Roy promised, his voice cracking with emotion. "I won't let him hurt you."

Johnny seemed to accept his word. He closed his eyes and let go a weary sigh. Roy debated whether or not to ask anything else, but he knew there was one thing Crockett was especially anxious to find out.

"Johnny... Johnny, where's Reggie now?"

Johnny's face grew troubled and he frowned. "He's at our house. I ran away from home and left him at our house."

Roy's stomach rolled at the terms Johnny was using. That he even remotely considered the place he was held as home left the paramedic feeling sick.

"Do you know where the house is?" he managed to ask.

Johnny shook his head. "I can't tell you. You can't go there. Please don't go there." His voice was growing strident and Roy decided they'd gotten all they were going to right now.

"Okay, Johnny, we won't go there. It's okay. Don't worry. We're not going there." He reached up and pulled the afghan down and covered Johnny with it. "You just rest now. See if you can sleep."

Johnny gave an obedient nod. Roy looked around for the biophone and remembered they'd left it outside. Just as he was about to ask Crockett to retrieve it for him, Brad came in the house with the biophone and the drug box. He set them down so Roy could reach both. Roy spared him a sharp glance, then picked up the phone to let Brackett know Johnny was doing better. He could tell the doctor would have felt better if Johnny came to Rampart, but Roy was adamant about letting him stay home.

"If he starts to get bad again, we'll bring him in," Roy promised.

"Okay, Roy, but keep me posted."

"Right. And thanks, Doc."

He hung up the phone and turned to Joanne. "He's gonna need his back cleaned up a little. Can you get a wet rag, hon."

"Sure." Joanne rushed off.

"Roy?"

Roy turned, surprised to see Johnny's eyes open. They seemed clearer, like he was more aware of where he was.

"Hey, you're supposed to be resting," Roy chided with a smile.

"They know," he whispered, his tone distraught. "Those reporters..." Johnny's eyes were definitely sharper and Roy could read the distress in them. "You said nobody would know. They're gonna tell everybody."

Roy felt his heart sink. The only way the press could have found out anything definite was if they'd gotten hold of Brackett's medical report. It should have been confidential, but Roy remembered how the paper had gotten inside information on the autopsy reports. He had no idea how much they would tell the public, but right now, Johnny needed to be reassured.

"I'll make sure they don't say anything," Roy promised, hoping he could keep that vow. "Don't worry about it. Nobody will find out. Just rest now."

Johnny let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes again. Joanne returned with a bowl of warm water and a wash rag. Roy had her set it down on the coffee table and he very gently cleaned the blood off Johnny's back, glad to see he'd been right and there were just a few scrapes. He didn't think they'd need to be bandaged. When he was done, he was glad to see Johnny really was asleep.

Roy stood up and Joanne was suddenly in his arms, her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said brokenly. "I should've just gotten the door myself."

"Jo.. Jo, it's not your fault," Roy soothed, holding her close. "You didn't know."

"But they're going to show that footage. It'll be all over the news."

"No it won't."

Roy and Joanne both turned to see Brad Martin standing at the coffee table, holding a big, black object in his hand.

"What are you talking about?" Roy demanded.

Brad smiled. "Just a little Fire Department diplomacy," he informed them. "I held the pretty boy reporter up against his van until he told his camera man to hand over the tape. Then I explained to them the importance of discretion in reporting, that maybe a lawsuit over invasion of privacy, trespassing, failure to obtain permission before taping, might help them weigh their words before they make their reports."

Roy stared at the younger paramedic, a smile growing on his face. Still keeping one arm around Joanne, he held out his hand to his partner.

Brad hesitated only a moment before he took the offered hand and shook it.

"Hey, Roy... sorry for being such a jerk this morning," he apologized, his face flushed red.

"Apology accepted." Roy waved his hand at Brad's face. "I, uh... I'm sorry about the eye," he stammered.

"Do I even want to know what you guys are talking about?" Joanne asked.

Roy shook his head. "No. Not really. Brad, you wanna take the equipment? I'll be out in a minute."

As the younger man gathered up the biophone and drug box, Roy turned back to his wife. "He should sleep for a while. Hopefully, he'll be okay when he wakes up. Call me, though, if you get worried."

"I will," Joanne assured him. She sniffed and reached over to take a sleeping Melissa from Norma's arms. "I don't know what I would have done without you," she told the older woman.

"Oh, nonsense." Norma waved off the thanks. "All I did was hold the baby."

Roy kissed Joanne then left the women talking softly between themselves. He paused on his way out to pull the comforter up closer around Johnny's shoulders.

"Take care, Junior," he murmured, then walked out the door. Lieutenant Crockett walked out with him.

"At least we've got a name now," he commented evenly.

Roy turned to regard the man. "Ron, I'm sorry we didn't get more info. I just didn't think it as a good idea to..."

"I know, I know, " Crockett broke in. "I'm not being critical, Roy. It's just frustrating. You think I could stop by tomorrow... see if he's able to talk at all?"

"I'll call you," Roy promised. "Let's see what kind of night he has."

Crockett nodded and headed off to his car. Roy sighed and climbed into the squad. He sat for a moment before he turned the key in the ignition.

"Everything okay?" Brad asked.

Roy took a long look at his house. "I sure hope so."

* * *

His body was light and he felt like he was floating. He knew he should be worried, but it was hard to remember why. He wasn't asleep, but it took too much effort to open his eyes, so he left them closed.

He couldn't remember where he was. He was laying on his stomach on something soft and if he moved too much his back hurt, but the pain was a distant thing and if he stayed still it went away. So he tried not to move and was content to float.

He slowly grew aware that he wasn't alone. Someone was beside him, talking softly to him. The words were hard to understand at first, but they gradually grew clearer.

I'm sorry about the drugs, Johnny, but you were so tense and I didn't want to hurt you our first time.

Something in the words triggered a memory, hidden deep in the haze that filled his mind. Fear - he was supposed to be afraid. But hard as he tried to bring the memory into clearer focus, it remained elusive.

Too bad the drug won't let you have very much fun, but maybe once you get used to it, you won't need the shot. I'd love for us to have fun together.

It took his brain some time to register the hands on his body, the soft caresses and gentle probing. Something somewhere was trying to tell him this wasn't right, but the message was getting lost somewhere between the haze that fogged his senses and the distant pleasure he was feeling from the gentle movements on his skin.

He felt his hips raised up and something soft propped under them, and he protested weakly when his back hurt at the movement.

I'm sorry, Johnny. I know you're sore. But if you do as your told, you won't have to be punished. I just needed to show you what happens when you're bad. I promise if you're a good boy, you'll only feel wonderful.

By now the hands had found the more intimate parts of his anatomy and he instinctively tried to move away, but the drug's grip was strong and he couldn't fight it. The sense of fear became more insistent, but it too wasn't strong enough to overcome the lethargy of the drug. When he felt the heavy pressure and then the sudden intrusion, he let out a small whimper, but it was lost in the rhythmic panting that now filled his ears.

No... wait... this isn't right... this isn't supposed to happen... this can't be happening...

But the words wouldn't form in his mouth and he lay there helpless before the increasing energy of the thrusts that tore at his soul... that even in the drug induced stupor were more painful than the whip had ever been.

Johnny opened his eyes, confused at first as to where he was. The room was only dimly lit, and he felt so very groggy. He recognized the feeling - he'd awakened like this too many times not to know he'd been given a drug of some kind and for a moment he felt a wash of panic. He sat up, his heart racing.

But he wasn't there. The couch he was on was harder than his bed had been, and the upholstery rougher on his hands. He felt the fear recede as recognition returned. He was at Roy's house - he was safe.

He ran his hands over his face to try and rub away the cobwebs, surprised to find his cheeks wet. He brushed the moisture aside angrily. What good did it do to sit and cry? What damn good did it ever do?

He threw back the afghan and tried to stand up, only to fall back. His legs were still unsteady and his knee hurt like hell.

Damn, I hate this feeling. I hate it.

He sat for another moment, but knew he would have to try his legs again soon. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but his bladder was bursting, and he needed to get up now or risk embarrassing himself even further and ruining Joanne's couch.

He pushed himself up again, grabbing the arm of the sofa for support. His legs still felt like spaghetti. He glanced up and tried to gauge the distance to the downstairs bathroom; through the kitchen and into the service porch. That meant navigating around the kitchen table and chairs, but it was still a better bet than trying to make it upstairs. At least he would have something to hang onto.

"Johnny?" Joanne appeared suddenly at his elbow. He had no idea where she came from, but he was certainly glad to see her. "I didn't know you were awake. Do you need some help?"

"You could say that," he replied breathlessly. "If you could just help me to the bathroom."

"Sure. Here, hang onto me." She moved to his right side and held out her arm.

Johnny grabbed hold, trying not to put too much weight on her. It was an effort and by the time he got where he needed to go, took care of business and made it back, he collapsed onto the couch exhausted. He sat still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and sort out all the places he hurt. His knee was the worst, but his back was sore, too, and he couldn't remember what he'd done to it.

"Are you feeling better?"

He glanced over at Joanne and knew she was referring to more than just his need to relieve himself. The memory of what happened slowly unfolded, as if it had been waiting there for him to call it up. He could see clearly the reporters standing on the porch, the lights and microphone, the camera, and the questions. After that it got a little hazy. He thought he remembered Roy being here. That had to have been who gave him the shot. He rubbed at the sore spot on his arm distractedly and shrugged a vague response to Joanne's question.

"Has it been on the news yet?" he asked dully.

"They only mentioned that you'd been found," she told him. "Nothing else." There was something in her tone that suggested there was more to the story, but he didn't have the energy to ask.

"Guess it doesn't really matter," he stated. "People are gonna think what they want to."

And they'll be right.

They sat in silence for a long moment and it finally dawned on Johnny just how quiet it was.

"Where're the kids?" he asked.

"They're having dinner at the Crawfords," she told him. "I didn't want them to bother you while you were sleeping."

All I am anymore is just one big pain in the ass for everybody.

"I don't want to disrupt your life," he objected.

Joanne laughed. "You think they didn't jump at the chance to go eat at Frank and Norma's? We were having broccoli tonight."

Johnny had to grin at that. "Does that mean I have to eat broccoli?"

"Well, it would sure make Dr. Brackett happy, but I won't tell him if you don't."

Johnny's grin grew wider, and then his stomach growled loudly. Joanne laughed while Johnny looked sheepish.

"I can take a hint. I've got dinner all ready. Stay right here, and I'll make you a tray."

In a few moments she had two TV trays set up and she joined Johnny in the living room. The chicken and rice casserole tasted good, especially after nothing to eat all day since his few bites of toast this morning. They ate in companionable silence and had just finished when the front door opened and Chris and Jenny bounded in, followed by Norma and Missy at a more dignified pace.

Johnny sat quietly while Joanne and the older woman chatted pleasantly for a while. She'd sent the kids upstairs to get showered, leaving Missy to entertain herself. Growing bored with her toys, the toddler soon made her way over to the couch. She stood at Johnny's side, leaning on his knee, babbling nonsense to him the whole time.

As she pressed on a particularly painful spot, Johnny winced and lifted her away from his sore leg, setting her on his lap.

"Just don't kick the knee, pipsqueak," he told her with mock firmness. She laughed at him and clapped her hands together. "I can see you and me are gonna hafta have a talk about who's the boss." He couldn't keep from smiling at her happy giggles.

Joanne and Norma headed for the front door and the older woman stopped to wish Johnny well.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she told him, her face genuinely pleased. "And it's so good to have you homes safe and sound."

Johnny blushed self-consciously and murmured his thanks. After Norma left, Joanne cleared away the remaining dishes from their dinner. Left alone with the baby, Johnny found himself studying her as she entertained herself by trying to pull his fingers into her mouth so she could chew on them. She had his hair, dark and wild and he gave her an apologetic smile.

"You're gonna hate me for that when you're a teenager." He tilted his head to get a better angle. "You look more like your mom, though, so maybe that'll make up for it."

"Ma-ma, Ma-ma," Missy echoed dutifully.

Johnny smiled wistfully. "I guess I didn't do such a good job of picking out your mom, did I?" Missy looked up into his face, her smile big enough to show off her four baby teeth. "I'm sorry about that," he told her in a low voice. "Guess your daddy isn't much of a better choice, is he?"

The baby pulled on his shirt until she managed to stand up on his lap. She crowed her delight with her accomplishment and Johnny smiled again as he kept his hands on her back to steady her.

"Nenny! Nenny!"

Johnny turned to see Jenny come downstairs, dressed in her nightgown, her hair wet from the shower. Missy immediately wiggled her way off Johnny's lap and rushed over to throw her arms around her sister. Jennifer picked the baby up and settled her on her hip. Johnny was happy to see that his daughter fit so well into this family. He wouldn't have to worry about her.

"Are you feeling okay, Uncle Johnny?" Jenny asked, her concern evident on her face.

Johnny nodded and patted the cushion to let Jenny know it was okay to sit by him. The little girl smiled brightly and came over at once, letting Missy crawl back over into Johnny's lap.

"So how was your dinner?" he asked with a smile.

"Great," Jenny answered enthusiastically. "Grandma Norma makes these really great pizzas by putting sauce and cheese on French bread."

"Sounds a whole lot better than broccoli," Johnny teased.

Jenny made a face. "Anything's better than broccoli," she stated positively.

Missy had been moving back and forth between Johnny and Jennifer and she finally hit Johnny's sore knee with her leg. He hissed and moved his hand to cover the tender area from further assault, feeling his eyes water from the intensity of the pain.

"Missy Jo," Jennifer scolded and started to lift her sister out of the way, but Johnny stopped her.

"It's okay, Jenny Bean. She doesn't know any better." He tried massaging it, but it didn't help much. He gave it up and leaned back, growing aware that Jennifer was watching him intently.

"What's wrong?" he asked warily.

Jenny hesitated enough that Johnny was certain the kids were under orders not to ask him questions.

"It's okay to ask," he told her softly. "If I don't feel like answering you, I won't." He gave her a grin to take the edge off his words and she smiled back.

"Your leg. Uncle Johnny... did that man hurt your leg?"

Johnny took a deep breath and nodded.

"Why?"

Why? God, what a question. Why did Reggie do anything? Why did he hurt me so bad one minute and then tell me he loved me the next? Why did he beat me unconscious in the morning and make love to me at night? Why did we spend all those days talking and reading and listening to music and then spend those other days in hell? You have no idea how many times I asked myself that same question, Jen.

"Uncle Johnny?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry if I asked the wrong thing."

He shook his head. "You didn't," he assured her. He sighed and rubbed at his face. "I think he was afraid I'd run away," he finally answered.

I'm sorry for hurting you, Johnny, but I can't risk losing you. I love you, Johnny. I've never had a friend like you. I'd die if you left me.

He put his fingers to his forehead, trying to rid his mind of the voice.

"Uncle Johnny?"

He glanced over at her and could see how hard she was trying to make sense of something that didn't make any sense at all.

"He's a very mean man, isn't he?"

Not any more, Jenny. He can't hurt anybody anymore.

"He was... sometimes."

"But not all the time?" Now she was confused.

Join the club, Jen.

He shook his head slowly. "No," he said quietly. "Not all the time."

"Do you hate him?"

God, now there's a question... Do I hate Reggie? Yes... and no. That's no help, but it's how I feel. But if there were times I didn't hate him, what exactly did I feel?

"Do you?" Jennifer prompted.

Johnny sighed at the enormity of the matter. "Sometimes," he breathed. "I hated him when I thought he'd killed your Dad, and because he made me think that was my fault. I hate him when I remember..." He paused. Jenny didn't need to be burdened with some things.

"I hated him," Jenny told him, her voice starting to tremble. "I hated him when he hurt Daddy. And I hated him when he took you away from us."

She leaned against him and he put his arm around her and held her close. Not wanting to be left out, Missy settled in on his other side and lay her head on his stomach. Johnny rested his other arm on his daughter's back and gave her a watery smile.

* * *

Roy backed the squad into the bay and heard the door rattle as it started rolling closed. He turned off the engine and leaned his head back against the seat. He was beat. After the call with Johnny, they hadn't made it back to the station, responding to half a dozen calls back to back. He hoped things had gone smoothly at home. Joanne would never have been able to reach him.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him they'd missed lunch. He sat up straight and glanced over at Brad, who looked as tired as Roy felt.

"C'mon," he prodded. "Let's go see what Stoker made for dinner."

"I hope it's fried chicken," Brad said as he wearily opened the passenger side door.

As they climbed out of the squad and made their way to the day room, Cap opened his office door and beckoned them over.

"In my office, guys."

The two paramedics exchanged glances as they changed direction and walked into the office. Roy's stomach voiced its protest at the delay in getting supper, but he knew Cap was aware of how long they'd been out today, and he wouldn't call them in if it wasn't important.

"Have a seat," Hank instructed and both men did as they were told.

Roy had worked with Hank Stanley for a long time, and he thought he could read the man pretty well, but, at this moment, the senior paramedic couldn't tell if they were in for a reaming out or a commendation. Cap's face was stern, but his eyes were twinkling with an inner amusement.

"I got a call earlier, while you were out. It was the station manager of KHJ... you know, the television station?"

"Oh, yeah?" Roy tried his best to look surprised. Next to him, he heard Brad clear his throat, but the older paramedic didn't dare look at his partner if he wanted to keep a straight face.

"Yeah." The captain put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "He wants to file a complaint... something about an L.A. County paramedic harassing one of his news teams. You guys wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now would ya?"

Roy glanced down, suddenly interested in a hangnail.

"Gee, Cap," Brad spoke up, his voice nervous. "They didn't say who it was, did they?"

"As a matter of fact, they did. Squad 51." Hank lifted curious eyebrows. "You wanna fill me in on what happened?"

Roy finally looked at Brad. The younger man looked worried, and for good reason. Though the station was a local one, it was still pretty big and powerful. If they wanted to force the issue, they could make life pretty miserable for a lowly county employee.

"I don't know what they're talking about, Cap," he said evenly. "Brad was helping me with Johnny the whole time. Joanne can tell you that, and our neighbor across the street... she was there. Even Lieutenant Crockett was there. I'm sure he can back us up."

Hank's face grew suspicious. "Look, don't play me for the dummy here. Whatever story you concoct for the guys in the suits is your own business, but at least give me the courtesy of telling me what happened."

Roy kept silent. This was Brad's call. The younger paramedic fidgeted for a moment, then suddenly sat up straight.

"Cap, those bozos stood around shooting news footage while Gage was in a world of hurt. Then they were gonna play it on the evening news. I just... well, I, uh... I had a talk with them and convinced them to hand over their tape."

Hank sat stone faced for a moment, then he suddenly ducked his head, but not before Roy caught a glimpse of the grin that had broken out on the man's lean features. After a moment, and once more under control, the captain looked up.

"Okay, you twits go get your chow. I'll take care of this chowder head."

"Yes, sir," Brad answered and jumped up out of his chair. He couldn't get out the door fast enough.

Roy got up at a more dignified pace. As he got to the door, Hank stopped him.

"How's John doing?"

"He was asleep when I left. Joanne hasn't called, has she?"

Hank shook his head.

"Everything's probably okay then. I was gonna call as soon as we got in."

"Sounds good, but why don't you eat first. The way your day's been going, who knows when you'll get another chance."

Roy chuckled and started to leave.

"Hey, Roy?"

"Yeah, Cap."

Hank nodded his head in the direction Brad had disappeared. "Seems he's not such a bad guy after all."

Roy smiled. "Not too bad at all."

* * *

Saturday

Joanne pulled her robe tighter as she walked downstairs with Missy. Chris and Jenny had reached an age where they no longer got up at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, but Joanne figured she was still years away from being able to sleep in.

Not true, she reminded herself. If Johnny reaches a point where he can take her, then there'll be no baby here to wake me up in the mornings.

She sighed and hugged Missy closer, pushing that prospect aside. They were still a long way from that day.

She went straight to the kitchen. Roy would be home in about an hour if they didn't get called out before shift change. She decided to have a nice breakfast ready for everybody. This was the start of the kids' break from school, and Roy had the next week off as well, so it would be a nice beginning. Chris had asked her last night before he went to bed if they were still going to go to Disneyland. Joanne had given him an unsatisfactory "we'll see," but she knew she and Roy would have to sit down and make a few decisions.

She flipped on the kitchen light and set Missy down with her blanket.

"Be a good girl and let Mommy cook breakfast," she said with a smile. The baby rubbed at her sleepy eyes and crawled into the living room. Joanne knew she wouldn't stay in there long without anyone to keep her company, so she didn't worry too much.

She put the coffee on and then started in on breakfast, trying to be quiet, knowing the clanking of pots and pans could carry upstairs. She didn't want to disturb Johnny. The trip to Chris' bedroom last night had been difficult for him. He seemed to have recovered from the shot Roy had given him, but he was having a lot of trouble with his leg. He'd needed her help getting up the stairs and by the time he'd sunk down onto his bed, he was worn out. She hoped he got a decent night's sleep.

She pulled out the Bisquick and started mixing the ingredients for biscuits, keeping an ear out for the baby. She could hear contented babbling and knew they'd left some toys there last night. Joanne smiled. Missy was good at keeping herself entertained.

As she started rolling out the dough, however, she realized that Missy's jabbering had turned into giggles, the kind she usually had when she was playing with someone. Joanne glanced at the clock on the stove. It was too early for Roy to be home. She dusted off her hands and stepped over to the doorway.

"Missy Jo, who are you talking to?"

"Da-da, Da-da, Da-da."

Joanne could see that Missy was standing by the couch, banging her hand on it. What she could also see was the dark head of hair sticking up over the edge of the armrest, and as she watched, a long arm raised up to cover that head from the baby's happy attack.

"Missy," Joanne hissed and rushed over to pull the child back. Sometime during the night, Johnny must have come back to sleep on the couch. How he made the trip down the stairs by himself, Joanne didn't know.

"It's okay, Jo," came a sleepy mumble from under the comforter. "She's better than wake up tones."

"I'm sorry, Johnny," Joanne apologized. "I didn't realize you were down here."

"I was tossin' and turnin' a little," he told her, his voice husky with sleep. "I didn't wanna wake up Chris."

"Was your leg bothering you?"

There was a slight pause before he answered. "Yeah, some." Joanne heard him give a soft sigh and she knew it was more than his leg that had kept him awake.

"Well, why don't you try and go back to sleep for a while. I'll keep the baby in the kitchen."

"Da-da," Missy gurgled again, and bounced up and down several times to get Joanne to let her go.

Johnny pulled the afghan down to reveal one eye squinting out. "Is she always this chipper in the morning?"

Joanne chuckled. "Not always."

She heard a slight laugh from Johnny and then he lifted the cover up in an invitation. Smiling, Joanne put the baby back down. Babbling happily, she climbed onto the couch and snuggled down next to Johnny. He let the afghan fall back over them both.

Joanne bit her lower lip to keep the tears in check, but they were happy ones, not sad or jealous. She wanted more than anything for these two to develop a relationship and it looked like they might be on the right track.

As she watched, Missy reached up and grabbed her father's nose, laughing at the face he made.

"We're goin' back to sleep, pipsqueak," he stated in a voice made nasal by the baby's grip.

"Good luck," Joanne laughed as she headed back to the kitchen.

* * *

Roy was glad to be home. He was starting his vacation this week, planned to coincide with the kids' Easter break. He wasn't sure if they'd actually make it to Disneyland like they'd planned, but he'd be sure they did some fun things. If the weather stayed warm, maybe they'd go have a cookout at the beach one night. Chris and Jenny always loved to do that, and it would be something Johnny could join them in without worrying about all that walking and dealing with crowds of strangers.

He picked up the newspaper from the porch and walked in the front door, immediately catching the smells of coffee, biscuits and bacon all mingled together. He smiled. During the school week Joanne would just serve cereal or maybe some toaster waffles, but Saturday mornings were always nice to come home to.

The living room was still fairly dark and there was no TV on, which was unusual. By now Chris or Jennifer should be up and watching whatever morning show they were into. If it was Chris, it would probably be Scooby Doo. Jennifer still liked Sylvester and Tweety. But the kids weren't here and as Roy came all the way into the room, he realized why.

Johnny was sleeping on the couch. For a moment, Roy was afraid the younger man was still there from yesterday morning, but he'd talked to Joanne last night and she had assured him Johnny had awakened and seemed fine, except for his leg. Joanne was a little concerned about that. Roy planned on calling Dr. Brackett first thing Monday morning and getting the information on the ortho he had recommended.

As he studied his sleeping friend, Roy noticed a movement near Johnny's head. At first he thought his partner was stirring, but it wasn't Johnny that was moving. There was a small lump under the afghan. As Roy bent closer, the lump started wiggling, then it sat up and pulled down a portion of the covers. He could suddenly see part of Missy's tousled head.

"Pee-boo," she laughed, playing her favorite game. She spied Roy and held up her hands in delighted welcome. "Ba-pa!"

Concerned that she was bothering Johnny, Roy set the paper down and scooped up the baby, trying to keep her quiet.

"Shhh, Missy Jo," he whispered. "You're gonna wake up Uncle Johnny."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake. He glanced at the couch and his heart sank when he saw that Johnny was awake and watching him. There wasn't enough light to see his face clearly, but Roy could just imagine the hurt that would be in those eyes.

Shit, Shit, Shit... what have I done? What a stupid ass thing to say...

"Hey, Johnny," he started, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... it just slipped out."

But the dark haired man merely rolled over and pulled the covers back up.

Damn it!

Roy's shoulders slumped, his good mood vanished. He picked up the newspaper and walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, Sweetheart," Joanne greeted happily. Seeing the baby in his arms, she laughed. "Looks like they didn't get back to sleep." She came over to kiss him hello and right away picked up on his mood. "What's wrong?"

Roy didn't answer immediately. He put Missy in her high chair before he turned back to answer his wife.

"I just put my foot in my mouth," he said in a low voice so Johnny wouldn't hear.

"What hap..." Joanne stopped in mid-sentence as Jenny wandered into the kitchen.

"Hi, Daddy," she greeted and came over to give Roy a hug.

"Morning, Sweetie," he answered.

"Jen, why don't you go up and tell Chris breakfast is ready," Joanne asked as she set plates out on the table.

"Okay, Mom." The little girl turned around to do as she was told.

"And comb your hair before you come back down," Joanne reminded their daughter's retreating figure.

"Okay," came the answering call.

Joanne set a cup of coffee at Roy's place and gestured for him to sit. He did so and took a grateful sip of the hot liquid. He lowered the cup and leaned his head in his hand, still wondering at his blunder.

Joanne was watching him as she poured juice for everyone, but he didn't want to talk about it here where Johnny could easily hear them. He would tell her later. His wife must have picked up on his body language, for she changed the subject.

"Johnny's knee is really bothering him. I think I'll make him up a tray so he doesn't have to walk in here."

"I don't need a tray, Joanne, thanks."

Roy turned to see Johnny standing in the doorway, one arm holding onto it for support. He reached out for the back of Roy's chair and hobbled over to plop down in his own seat.

Joanne's eyes moved between the two men, then she returned to the stove and left them alone. Roy felt stupidly awkward, not knowing how to take back the words. But Johnny was the one who finally broke the silence.

"Don't beat yourself up, Roy." His mouth turned up slightly. "I've been Uncle Johnny for years. It was a natural mistake."

"Johnny... I never meant..."

"I know, I know." Johnny waved his hand to let Roy know the subject was closed.

Roy sighed. Johnny had always possessed a forgiving nature, but Roy could tell that, while his friend wasn't mad, the mistake was still painful for him. Talking about it now, however, would only make it worse, so Roy reluctantly let the matter drop.

Chris and Jenny burst into the kitchen, full of energy and ready to eat. As breakfast began, the atmosphere in the kitchen rapidly improved and the previous tension appeared forgotten. Roy kept on eye on his partner during the meal. Johnny ate, but almost like it was something he had to do, rather than because he had any real appetite. Roy made a mental note to be sure and talk to Brackett about that as well, and he wondered if the doctor might happen to be in today. Knowing Brackett's workaholic attitude, he just might be. It wouldn't hurt to find out.

When the meal was done and the kids had helped clear the table, Roy and Johnny were left sitting there. Joanne had taken Missy upstairs for a bath. Chris was at the neighbors playing and Jenny was in the living room watching TV.

Roy sipped at his second cup of coffee and Johnny was nursing a tall glass of milk. This was usually the time when Roy would sit and read the paper, but today he opened it reluctantly. Though Joanne had told him the coverage on television had been brief and discreet, there was still the written word to consider.

"Am I the talk of the town?" Johnny suddenly asked. Roy was a little surprised. He hadn't thought the younger man had been aware enough yesterday to know who was at the door.

"I don't know. That's what I'm looking for."

Fortunately, there was enough world news that there was no mention on the front page, but as Roy opened the paper up, he immediately saw the file photo of Johnny and the bold caption, "Missing L.A. Paramedic Found After Eighteen Month Search."

"Where'd they get that picture?" Johnny snorted. He was looking over Roy's shoulder. "I look like I'm twenty years old."

Roy smiled. "The Department gave it to them." He quickly scanned the article. Like the TV report, it was short and to the point, only saying that Johnny had apparently been injured to some extent by his kidnapper. "It doesn't seem too bad," Roy observed.

"Yeah, but what's that?" Johnny reached over and pointed out another article.

There were smaller photos of the other firemen. This article, obviously written as a companion piece to the first one, recapped the kidnapping and murders. To Roy's dismay, it also made mention of his own injuries, and then, it went into detail about the coroner's findings on the victims and the physical condition of the bodies, reminding all readers about the horrible things that had been done to these brave men.

Roy felt sick. While not actually coming out and saying anything particular about Johnny, the placement of the second article would naturally have readers drawing all sorts of conclusions.

"That bad, huh?"

Roy glanced up and saw Johnny staring at him. The paramedic realized his face must have been broadcasting his dismay. He closed the paper and tossed it aside.

"It doesn't matter," he said evenly. "It's just a bunch of junk they already said before."

Johnny's gaze moved to the paper. "I never read what they said before," he stated softly. His face was pale and his eyes troubled.

Roy sighed. "It's like I said before. People are gonna think what they wanna think. There isn't much we can do about that. But your friends will stick by you, Johnny. Count on that."

Johnny tried to smile and failed. They sat in heavy silence for a time, and then Johnny scooted back his chair and got up, holding heavily onto the table.

"Can you give me a hand up the stairs?" he asked. "I need to take a shower."

"Sure." Roy got up and took Johnny's arm over his shoulder, letting the other man lean on him as much as he needed.

The rest of the morning was uneventful. Johnny sat on a chaise on the deck and kept Roy company while he did some chores in the yard. Roy noticed at one point that his partner had dozed off. That was good. Roy knew Johnny wasn't getting much sleep and his body needed it. By noon, most of the work was done. Chris had come home from playing and Joanne brought sandwiches outside for everyone. The weather was mild and it was pleasant to sit out here sipping iced tea.

When lunch was over, Jenny took Missy over to the swings to play, but Chris stayed at the table. Roy had noticed that his son had seemed preoccupied when he came home, but now it was more evident that something was bothering the boy.

"What's up, pal?" Roy asked, reaching out and tousling his son's blond hair.

Chris shrugged, but didn't say anything.

"You mad at somebody?" Chris wasn't normally a moody kid, and Roy was trying to figure out what might have caused his pensiveness.

"Nah." Chris glanced over at Johnny, who was sitting at the end of the table, trying to finish his sandwich. "Dad... I need to ask you something and I don't wanna make you mad."

Roy regarded his son curiously. "Chris, you know you can always ask me anything. I don't get mad at you for asking questions."

Chris nodded absently. "I know, but this one is..."

Roy watched his son struggle and wondered if this was about girls. He and Chris had already had a few "talks," but not anything huge. The boy was only eleven, after all, and Roy didn't think he needed to know the whole story yet.

Roy put a hand on his son's shoulder, trying to put him at ease. "You can always ask, son."

"Even if it's something you won't like?"

Now Roy was more than curious, he was getting worried. "Chris, have I ever gotten mad at you for asking me anything?"

Chris shook his head and once more glanced over at Johnny. Roy suddenly had a bad feeling about this and wanted to put an end to the conversation, but he could hardly do that now.

"Dad... Dad, what's a fag?"

Roy couldn't have been more stunned. It took him nearly a minute to compose himself enough to clear his throat so he could talk.

"Where did you hear that?" He hoped his voice was steady.

"Over at Corey's house. We were playin' in the garage and his dad was talkin' to Mr. Larson from down the street. You know he walks his dog past their house all the time. Anyway, he was there and they were talkin' and Corey's dad had the newspaper and he was tellin' Mr. Larson about the fireman they found and how he probably had a great time with the guy that kidnapped him. And then Mr. Larson said the guy must've been a fag to begin with, otherwise why didn't the guy kill him like the others."

Once more Chris shot a tentative glance in Johnny's direction. Roy followed his son's gaze and felt his stomach drop. Johnny looked frozen in place, his sandwich still in his hand, his face a mask of devastation.

"Chris..." Roy began softly, wanting to stop this, but his son was still talking.

"And, Dad, at first I thought they were talkin' about Uncle Johnny, but they couldn't be, 'cause I know he didn't have a good time while he was gone. So I was wondering what they meant by a fag."

Roy looked over at Johnny. His partner had finally dropped his sandwich and his face had turned down, his arms wrapped around himself in that gesture that Roy knew meant life had suddenly become too much for Johnny to handle. Roy felt his anger rising, anger at his neighbor's thoughtless ignorance, and his stupidity for saying that kind of thing in front of Chris, and anger at people he didn't even know, who would read the paper and assume all kinds of wrong things about his best friend because he'd had the good fortune of surviving what other men hadn't.

"Dad?" Chris' voice sounded concerned and Roy worked at controlling himself. None of this was his son's fault.

"Chris..." Roy paused when he heard the tremor in his voice. He took a breath and started over. "Chris, fag is a name people use when they want to be hurtful. It's not nice and I don't ever want to hear you say it."

"But what does it mean?" the boy persisted.

Roy felt a headache growing. He supposed this was only the first of many hateful words Chris would hear as he entered junior high next year, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"Sometimes... sometimes two men can love each other... like your mom and I love each other."

Chris' eyes were wide. "No way, Dad. How can they do that?"

Roy took a deep breath. "Now you're asking me things I don't have the answers to. It just happens sometimes. I don't understand it myself, but I would never want to hurt somebody or make him feel bad just because of who he loves. Does that make any sense, son?"

Chris nodded thoughtfully. "I guess," he said slowly.

"Good. Why don't you get Jenny and Missy and go play in the house."

Chris got up from the table and went to get the girls. After they left the yard, and the sliding glass door closed after them, Roy sat for a moment, trying to collect himself. Then he turned to his partner.

"Johnny?"

"Leave me alone."

Johnny's tone was flat. He hadn't looked up, but his words were unmistakable.

"Johnny, you can't just shut yourself off. Maybe if you talked about it. I'm willing to listen."

"What do you want me to say?" the younger man asked, his voice shaking with emotion. "That your neighbor was right? That I had a good time?"

"Johnny..."

"Or do you want more details. You wanna know how many times we did it?" Johnny lifted his head slowly and his eyes were flashing with anger. "Well, I'll tell ya, Roy... there was only one bed in our house and we both slept in it. So you do the math. And those were only the times I was a willing partner. There were other times... times he didn't ask. Maybe your neighbors wanna know about those times."

Roy listened to his partner as he worked himself up. His first reaction had been to try and stop Johnny, to calm him down, but he suddenly wondered if maybe the younger man needed this release. There was so much hurt and fear bottled up inside of him, maybe this would be a way to let some of that go. And so Roy steeled himself to hear things he would have rather gone his whole life without knowing.

"Should I go over there and tell 'em about the nights I spent chained over a bench so he could shove things up my ass? Or about the times I was hanging bleeding from a hook while he did me with his hands or his mouth? Is that what they want to hear? Are those the good times they think I had?"

Johnny's wrath suddenly blew out like a candle and his head fell into his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was broken. "Or do they just want to know about the nights I asked him for it... begged him for it? 'Cause I did, ya know. I did... I did..." He trailed off, his energy spent.

Roy sat there, totally out of his element, not sure at all what to do or say. The few hours of psychology training they took with their paramedic courses did nothing to prepare him for something like this. His instincts told him to reach out, to try and make it better, but he wondered for the first time if it could ever be better for Johnny. If even a part of what he'd spewed out had really happened to him... Roy could only shudder at the thought.

"Johnny..."

The dark haired man lifted his head and the eyes that met Roy's were so empty, so void of hope that they took the paramedic's breath away.

"Do you think I'm a fag?"

Roy gripped the table, avoiding the question. "Johnny... nothing that happened to you was your fault. You were a victim. You were kidnapped, abused, tortured. You didn't ask for any of that to happen to you."

"But I..." Johnny hesitated, his earlier force gone and the insecurity returned. "I did ask... sometimes. Reggie liked me to ask... It made him happy when I asked... and I liked to make him happy. I did make him happy... he said I did...he said I was the best..."

Roy felt like he was going to be sick. Johnny had gone from a towering rage at the monster who'd savaged him to this meek thing stammering out a defense of a man who was guilty of unspeakable horrors. What did he do to you, Junior... what did he do?

Up until this moment, Roy would have patently said no, John Gage was as straight as they come, but listening to Johnny, he couldn't help wondering. What if it had been him, if Johnny had never walked around the back of the squad and Roy was the one kidnapped? How much of what Johnny had described could Roy have endured? What would it have taken before he would ever think of asking another man for sex?

But Johnny hadn't been the one to go asking either. It wasn't like he'd just been on the prowl at Rampart one shift and decided to hit on an orderly instead of a nurse. It had taken a year and a half of conditioning, of control and mind games. Roy put a lid on his own squeamishness and focused on trying to help Johnny see what had really happened.

"He used you, Johnny." Roy tried to keep his voice steady. "He hurt you and manipulated you into doing what he wanted."

"No." Johnny shook his head stubbornly. "He loved me. He told me he loved me."

Love? My God, Johnny... he was a murderer!

"But he hurt you."

"I broke the rules." The dark head bowed again. "He didn't want to hurt me... but I broke the rules."

Roy had to repress a shudder as Johnny's words brought back with chilling clarity the voice in Roy's ears. You'll learn fast that you don't want to break the rules. He swallowed hard and pushed the sudden flashback away. He needed to concentrate on Johnny.

"Whose rules? His? Who gave him the power to make those kinds of rules?" Roy's voice shook with emotion. "I just wish he were here and I'd give him a few of my rules."

Johnny's face clouded with confusion. "Reggie's not here. He can't be here. I left him. I..." He stopped, put his hands to his head as if he were in pain.

Roy leaned forward intently. "Where is he? Where's Reggie, Johnny? Where did you leave him?"

Johnny pressed his hands tighter to his forehead. "I can't tell you," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't."

"Why? Why can't you tell me?"

"If you go there, you'll see... you'll see everything."

"What, Johnny? What will I see?"

The eyes that met his were filled with hopeless tears. "You'll see where I was... what I did... Don't you get it, Roy? I thought you were dead. I thought I'd killed you. He told me I killed you. I didn't think I could ever go home... I could never see you again. I never thought you would know... I would have let him kill me if I'd known you were alive. I would rather have died like the others than have you ever find out what I did... what I let him do... But there was nothing left... you were dead and I hurt so bad... so god damn bad."

The tears spilled over and ran down the pale cheeks. "But you're not dead and I don't want you to see... I don't want you to ever see."

Roy could find no words to say, no comfort to offer. He couldn't even begin to imagine the choice Johnny had faced. To suffer agonizing torture that ended only in death or to allow yourself to be used in the most perverse and depraved game of power and control. As he watched his friend struggle with his demons, Roy acted on impulse. He slid down the bench until he was beside the younger man. He didn't know if Johnny would let him touch him, but he knew he had to try. He had to let his partner know that nothing had changed between them, that no matter what Johnny had done or allowed to be done to him, Roy was still his friend and would always be there for him.

He put his arm across Johnny's shoulders, feeling the slight recoil and then the trembling under his hand. And then Johnny just wilted. He leaned his head into Roy's chest and Roy pulled him close, holding his shoulders with one hand, his dark head with the other, holding his friend as the younger man's body jerked convulsively with the sobs that tore out of his chest.

* * *

Joanne watched as Roy got ready for bed. His years in the fire service couldn't help but affect his routines at home and Joanne had always smiled indulgently as, no matter how tired he was, he folded his clothes over the back of the chair and set his shoes at the foot of the bed, as if he needed to have instant access to them. But tonight was different. Tonight, he dropped his pants and merely kicked them aside and let his shirt fall off to lay wrinkled on the floor.

On a normal night, they would get into bed together. Sometimes they would make love and sometimes they would just lay and talk. Roy would share stories from work, some funny, some sad. In the past, a lot of the funny things would come from something Johnny had said or done. Of course, in the last year and a half there had been no Johnny stories. For a long time, there had been no stories at all, but in the last few months life had resumed some of its previous routine. Tonight, though, something wasn't right. After undressing and using the bathroom, Roy merely climbed into bed, turned out his light and lay on his side, his face turned away from her.

Joanne knew the last few days had been a tremendous emotional drain on her husband, on all of them surely, but it was Roy who was shouldering most of the load of helping Johnny deal with the aftermath of his captivity. But Roy wasn't naturally the kind of man who was comfortable with emotional issues and this had to be especially hard for him.

Today, when Roy sent the kids inside after lunch, Joanne knew that meant they were to stay there unless told otherwise, so she made sure they were entertained enough that they wouldn't get restless and start pestering her to let them go outside. As a result, she had no idea what had gone on between Roy and Johnny during the time they were out there. All she knew was that when they came inside, neither man was talking much. Johnny's pale face was blotchy and his eyes were red, telling her he'd been crying, but that was all she knew. Roy had helped his partner upstairs to Chris' room, where they'd stayed for almost another hour. When Roy had come down, he asked Chris not to bother Uncle Johnny for a while. Then he'd grabbed a beer from the fridge and gone back out to the deck, where he sat and silently drank. Joanne had not felt welcome to intrude and had left him alone.

The rest of the day had been pretty much the same. Even though Johnny managed to come down for dinner, he didn't say anything to any of them, not even Melissa. In fact, he pointedly ignored her happy clamoring for "Da-da." As soon as he'd eaten enough to leave the table, he disappeared back upstairs for the rest of the evening. Jenny had been indignant that Uncle Johnny hadn't even said good night and Joanne had tried her best to explain that he wasn't feeling well, and they had to give him a chance to get better. Jenny had accepted that, but Chris had sat off to himself brooding. Joanne wouldn't have thought her son would be so upset about a neglected good night, but when she asked him, he'd merely shrugged and buried himself in a book.

With all the males in the house in silent mode, it made for a very strained evening, one Joanne was glad to see come to an end. As she slipped under the covers, she moved over to wrap an arm around Roy, letting him know she was there if he needed her. He wasn't asleep. She knew his body rhythms well enough to tell that he was just lying there awake. She tightened her hold on his waist and reached up to kiss the back of his neck. If he could relax a little, indulge in a little marital pleasure, maybe he could forget for a time.

She let her hand slip a little lower and she knew she was having the desired effect.

"Jo..." he rumbled softly, almost as if warning her off.

She smiled and reached up again to nip at his earlobe. "Yes?" she answered sweetly.

He turned suddenly and grabbed her up into his arms, kissing her with an intensity that not only surprised her, but nearly took her breath away. When he was done with her mouth, his lips moved to other parts, making hot trails down her face and her throat, over her breasts.

Joanne could hardly breathe. Over the nearly fourteen years of their marriage, they'd developed a very satisfactory love life. They probably never set the world on fire, but it had always been good for both of them. Roy was always considerate, making sure Joanne was satisfied with their time together. There had always been a tenderness in Roy's loving that Joanne cherished.

Tonight, none of that was present. Roy's hands and mouth moved over her body with a ferocity that left her gasping. He didn't hurt her, but there was none of the selflessness she'd come to expect. This was totally about Roy, fulfilling his needs. He was already panting, teetering close to the edge, and Joanne knew something was wrong. This wasn't her kind and caring husband. This was a man trying to prove something, using her body to purge himself. And all she could do was to hold him as he spent himself inside of her.

When he was done, and he had recovered enough to move, he lifted himself off of her, falling onto his back beside her, his breath still ragged. And then he brought an arm up to cover his face, as if he were ashamed for her to look at him.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jo."

"It's all right, Roy. I'm not made of glass. I didn't break."

She scooted up on the pillow and reached over to take him into her arms. He came to her, letting his head rest on her chest, his arm lying across her stomach. He was still trying to catch his breath and she let her hand play in his hair as they lay in silence for a time.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" she finally asked quietly.

He let out a shaky sigh and pulled himself closer to her, but he didn't answer. She knew he wasn't purposefully being difficult. He probably wasn't really sure himself. She tried another tact.

"What happened with Johnny today?" She felt Roy's body tense and knew she'd hit the right target. He began speaking without lifting his head.

"God, Jo... the things he told me today. I knew... I mean, I sort of assumed..." Roy moved away and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Damn it, I knew what had happened to the other guys. I guess somewhere in my mind I knew there was a good possibility that Johnny... But I was driving myself crazy sitting around wondering. I couldn't keep doing that." He shook his head. "Maybe I just never wanted to admit it could happen to somebody I know."

He turned his head to look at her, his face a mask of sorrow. "When we got to Rampart... when Brackett asked him..."

He stopped and Joanne reached out to brush her hand on his shoulder. He hadn't gone into much detail with her about the exam at Rampart. She, too, had known about the things that were done to the other victims, and when Johnny came home, even though Roy had never said anything definite to her, she could tell by the way Johnny was acting that he'd been through something horrible. Now, to have her worst fears confirmed, made her heart ache for their friend.

"Back at Rampart..." Roy went on. "It kept going through my head. What would I have done? Would I have let that bastard... well, touch me like that?"

"I don't think Johnny let him," Joanne observed. "It's not like he had much choice in the matter."

Roy turned and propped himself up on one elbow to face her. "But he did, Jo. He chose to go in my place. It could have been me. It almost was. And I can't help but wonder... what would I have done? Would I have fought back? Or would I..." He lowered his eyes. "Would I have..." He fell back again. "God, Jo, I hate these thoughts that keep going through my head. I know Johnny's not... well, he's just not. But the way he talked today... he talked about liking it, and asking for it." Roy brought the heels of his hands to grind into his eyes, as if scrubbing away the imagery. "I know that animal screwed up Johnny's head so bad, but I can't help thinking... God, if it had been me, would I have done that? Would I be like Johnny is now?"

Joanne ran her hand though the hair on Roy's chest. "Is that what this was all about tonight? To prove that you're still all big and macho?" She smiled to let him know she was teasing.

His mouth turned up at the corners in embarrassed acknowledgment. "Maybe... probably."

She leaned over and kissed his forehead tenderly. "Does knowing what happened to Johnny make him any less your friend?" she asked.

"No," he replied, lifting his eyebrows in surprise at her question.

"Those other men fought back," she reminded him. "And that maniac still did that to them... and he killed them. Does the fact that Johnny chose to live make him any less of a man?"

He frowned darkly. "Of course not," he declared, his voice raising slightly.

He lifted his head to gaze at her and she smiled again. His eyes finally lit with understanding and her smile widened.

"I don't think you have to worry about your manhood, my dear Tarzan," she told him with a laugh. "But next time at least beat your chest a few times to give me some warning."

He rolled his eyes and blew out a self-conscious breath. "I'm really sorry, honey," he apologized again. He turned his head, his blue eyes full of regret.

Joanne scooted closer and nestled down into the crook of his shoulder. His arm came around her to hold her there.

"Apology accepted," she told him, then lifted her head to grin at him. "Only, if I get pregnant because you were in too much of a hurry to put anything on..." She winked at him and left that thought hanging, dropping her head back onto his chest.

She'd stunned him. She could tell he was digesting that for quite some time. Finally, his arm tightened around her, and he nuzzled the top of her head.

"Well, a baby wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?" he asked very softly.

She knew at once he was thinking of Melissa and the void that would be left in their lives when Johnny was finally able to take her to a home of their own. Another baby would never replace Missy, but maybe, just maybe, it could ease the heartache. Joanne snuggled in closer.

"No, I guess that wouldn't be such a bad thing," she agreed.

* * *

He was tired... and he felt the bed dip as Reggie climbed in.

Maybe he'll just go to sleep. Maybe he doesn't need to play tonight. I'm too beat to play.

The larger man's body moved up next to his They never wore clothes to bed, that was one of the rules, and it was all too evident what Reggie was in the mood for. The arms encircled him, pulling him close. The lips were on his neck, the legs entwining his own.

He knew the rules... knew there was no way to get out of it. He could dimly remember when he hated Reggie's games, when they made him cry himself to sleep after Reggie had drifted off beside him. But he'd soon learned to hide his feelings. Reggie was quick to punish, but he'd also learned Reggie was equally quick to reward... rewards that felt so good.. rewards that his body soon began to crave, making the game something else... something he could look forward to. He didn't mind playing anymore. As long as he did what he was supposed to, Reggie was good to him and made sure the game was good for him, too. But tonight, he was going to have to work hard so that Reggie wouldn't know his heart wasn't in it this time.

He turned in the arms that held him and faced his lover. The thought flitted through his mind that he wasn't sure when he'd started thinking of Reggie in that way. Maybe because Reggie constantly told him how much he loved him. If that were true, then the games they played must be an expression of that love. He didn't usually dwell on it too much. Too many other, more distant thoughts fought to surface when he let his mind wander. And those thoughts made him uncomfortable. It was better not to think about anything but the here and now. It was safer.

Reggie leaned in to claim his mouth, his hands already beginning to explore. Maybe if he was lucky, the game would go fast tonight, and he could sleep. But that stray thought was his undoing. He couldn't stifle the yawn that appeared with a vengeance. Too late, he tried to hide it in his pillow, but he'd been seen.

He was yanked upright and the back of Reggie's hand caught him across the face, knocking him off the bed. He landed on his bad leg and cried out in pain, holding his hand to his cheek as the room spun around. It took him a moment to regain his senses and when he did, he saw Reggie towering over him, his face red with rage.

"Am I boring you, Johnny?" That voice was Reggie at his most dangerous and it sent a surge of fear through his whole being.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled through already swelling lips. "I didn't mean anything. I'm sorry. Let's play, Reggie. I wanna play, I do." Tears of fear were running down his cheeks.

"You broke the rules, Johnny. You know what that means."

"Please," he whimpered pitifully. "I didn't mean it."

Reggie got off the bed and grabbed a handful of his long, dark hair, pulling him roughly to his feet. He could barely keep up, stumbling on his bad leg. He knew where they were going. It was the place he feared the most. He hadn't been there in a long time. As soon as he'd learned the rules, he'd done his best to obey them. Now, he knew he was in deep trouble. He hadn't seen Reggie this upset for a long, long time. This was going to be bad.

He was too terrified to plead anymore. His entire body trembled as he watched Reggie put the handcuffs on him, then felt the stretch in his shoulders as his arms were raised to the hook hanging from the ceiling. He was left with his arms and shoulders bearing most of his weight, too high to really be able to stand.

"I'm disappointed in you, Johnny." Reggie was over at the table, picking out what he was going to use. It was the one he favored... the small whip with many thongs, each with a hard knot in the leather. "You've been doing so well."

"I didn't mean it," he whispered desperately. "Please, Reggie... Let's go back and play. I'll show you... I'll show you how much I love you..."

"I'll show you love, Johnny. You have to punish those you love so that they learn and grow. You'll love me more for this."

He could hear the swish of the air the instant before the whip landed on his back in biting agony. He didn't even try to stop the scream.

Johnny bolted up in bed, his breath heaving, his body drenched in sweat. He felt an overwhelming sense of dread. He had to get out, he had to find some place safe. He scrambled off the bed, wincing at the pain that shot down his leg with every movement. It didn't matter. He had to get out.

He hobbled to the door and out into the hall. It was dark, with only the dim night light in the bathroom to show him where he was. His eyes moved up and down the hall, starting to panic.

Where do I go? Where do I go?

He finally let his gaze rest on one closed door, and he recognized the room.

Roy. That's where Roy is. I'll be safe with Roy.

He limped the few feet he needed to go and reached out to try the knob. It refused to move in his hand.

Locked! I can't get in. What do I do now?

He glanced back at Chris' room, but he didn't want to go there. That's where the dreams were. With one more longing look at the door that kept him from Roy and safety, he sank down onto the carpeted floor and leaned up against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Uncle Johnny?"

Startled, he whipped his head up and saw Jenny standing there in her nightgown, her blond hair in disarray. He took a moment to let his heart beat return to normal before he answered her.

"Hi, Jen," he whispered through chattering teeth. He didn't know why they were doing that. He wasn't cold, he just couldn't stop the shaking.

"Whatsa matter?" the little girl asked in a loud whisper. "Why are you out here?"

Johnny shrugged uneasily. "I dunno. Had a bad dream, I guess."

Jennifer nodded knowingly. "I have those sometimes," she told him quietly. She looked around them. "What are you doing in the hall?"

Johnny shook his head. "I... I didn't wanna go back to bed and I..." He let his eyes dart toward Roy and Joanne's door. "I dunno."

But Jennifer had caught the look and she smiled. "You wanted to go see Daddy? That makes me feel better too." She tried the knob and her shoulders fell in disappointment. "I don't know why they do that sometimes," she said, with a shake of her blond head. She turned back to Johnny and must have noticed his shivering. "Are you cold?"

He shrugged again. "A little, maybe," he answered.

"I'll be right back." Jenny disappeared into Chris' room and then came back out with the pillow and blanket from Johnny's bed. She put the pillow on the floor and helped him lay down on it. Then she covered him with the blanket. "There," she declared, then suddenly whirled and ran into her own room.

When she came back, she was holding out a large, well loved teddy bear. "You take Theodore," she instructed. "He always helped me when I had bad dreams. I don't use him too much now, but he's still a good bear."

Johnny reached out and took the stuffed animal, touched by the little girl's gesture.

"Thanks, Jenny Bean," he told her as he tucked the bear in close and settled back onto the pillow. He actually felt calmer and was able to close his eyes.

"I'll sit by you until you fall asleep," she told him softly.

She sat down close to his pillow, and he felt her hand come to rest on his head, patting him tenderly in a gesture he knew she was copying from her mother. It warmed his heart, and his body. His shivering ceased and he felt safe knowing Jenny was right here and Roy was just on the other side of the door. He sighed and closed his eyes, able to drift back to sleep.