Something woke Roy up, and he wasn't sure what. He glanced at Joanne sleeping peacefully beside him, the predawn light making her bare shoulders pale. He smiled, thinking of the activities that took up most of their night. After his initial, selfish behavior, he'd spent a great deal of time showing her just how important she was to him.

He leaned closer to the baby monitor, but all seemed quiet in the nursery. It could have been Chris or Jenny getting up to use the bathroom, but something prompted him to go and check it out. He got out of bed, trying not to wake Joanne as he pulled on his shorts and undershirt, and made his way to the door. When he reached for the knob, he realized he'd left it locked. He'd meant to open it up in case the kids or, more likely Johnny, needed him in the night, but he'd fallen asleep spooned up next to Joanne, all other thoughts gone from his head.

He opened the bedroom door and all seemed quiet, but as he went to step into the hall, he caught sight of the figure curled up on the floor. He knew right away it was Johnny.

He must've had another nightmare. Probably tried to come see me. Damn, I should've unlocked the door.

He stepped closer and bent down, only to find Jennifer curled up beside the sleeping man. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he wasn't surprised to find Jenny here, trying to help Uncle Johnny. Smiling, Roy picked up his little girl and carried her back to her bed.

As he put her down and pulled the covers up over her, she stirred.

"Is Uncle Johnny asleep?" she asked sleepily, barely opening her eyes.

"Yeah, Pumpkin, he is. Thanks for takin' care of him."

Jenny smiled and snuggled down into her pillow. "He had a bad dream," she murmured. "I gave him Theodore so he wouldn't be scared."

"That was really nice, Jen," he told her softly, and stroked her hair back from her face and bent down to kiss her forehead.

He left her sleeping, then went into Chris' room and pulled his son's sleeping bag out of the closet and took it back to his and Joanne's room. In a few moments, he had it spread out on the floor next to his side of the bed.

"What's going on?" Joanne asked, sitting up. "Are the kids okay?"

Roy gave her a reassuring smile. "The kids are fine. Johnny had a nightmare. I'm gonna put him in here for now." He paused and took in his wife's appearance. "You might want to put something on." He winked at her, then laughed softly as she scrambled under the covers to find her missing nightgown.

Once Joanne was decent, Roy walked back to the hall. He squatted next to Johnny, putting a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder.

"Johnny? Johnny, come on, you need to wake up a little here."

"Hmm...wha..." The dark head tried to burrow deeper into the pillow. "'m sorry, Reggie," he mumbled, and Roy wished again that he could spend a few minutes tearing Reggie limb from limb.

Roy gave his partner's shoulder a slight shake. "C'mon, Junior."

Johnny's eyes finally opened and he blinked in groggy comprehension. "Roy?"

"Yeah, it's me. C'mon, let's get you out of the hall."

Roy helped Johnny get to his feet, and ended up taking his partner's arm around his shoulder to steady him. During the entire process, Johnny held tight to Jennifer's bear. Roy pretended not to notice as he got the younger man to the sleeping bag and helped him lie back down. He made one more trip to the hall to retrieve the pillow and blankets. When he got back, Johnny was already asleep again. Roy lifted the dark head and stuffed the pillow under it, then spread the blanket over the long body. With a sigh, Roy climbed back into bed, thankful that years of being a firefighter had given him the ability to go back to sleep quickly after unexpected interruptions. He pulled Jo close, and closed his eyes, hoping Johnny would get through what was left of the night peacefully.

* * *

Sunday

When Roy opened his eyes again, the clock by the bed read 8:30. Joanne was gone, but it was Sunday morning, and she normally got up and took the kids to church. Roy very seldom attended services. Joanne usually let him sleep in and have an hour or so to himself.

He leaned over the side of the bed and saw that Johnny was still asleep. That was good, and Roy planned on letting the younger man stay that way as long as he could. He crawled out of bed on Joanne's side and made his way to the bathroom.

In a short while, he was coming downstairs to the wonderful smell of fresh coffee, and he blessed his wife's thoughtfulness. As he entered the kitchen he was surprised, however, to see Christopher sitting at the table, eating a bowl of corn flakes. Roy poured a cup of coffee, grabbed his own bowl from the cabinet and sat down.

"What are you doing home?" he asked as he poured himself some cereal.

Chris shrugged. "Mom said I didn't have to go this morning. I wasn't feelin' too great."

"What's wrong?" Roy inquired. Chris seemed to be eating just fine.

The boy stared down at his bowl, and Roy thought he wasn't going to answer, but Chris finally looked up, his face troubled.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Dad," he said sadly. "When I asked you about... about that word. I made Uncle Johnny pretty upset."

Roy set his spoon down and rubbed his hands across his face. It was too early to have to deal with this.

"Chris..." Roy reached out and put his hand on his son's. "You weren't the one who upset Johnny. It was what Mr. Larson said."

Chris shoved a spoonful of corn flakes into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Dad... I've been thinkin' about that. I think they were talkin' about Uncle Johnny. They were lookin' at his picture in the paper."

"You're probably right," Roy admitted, knowing he couldn't lie to his son.

"But, Dad, why would they call him a... well, that word? Uncle Johnny likes girls better than anybody I know."

Roy couldn't help but smile at the truth in that statement. "He certainly does, doesn't he?"

"Then why..."

"Chris," Roy interrupted quietly. "Uncle Johnny wasn't treated very nicely by the man who kidnapped him."

Chris nodded solemnly. "I know. I hear him sometimes when he's having bad dreams. And I know his leg hurts."

Roy stirred absently at his now soggy flakes as he debated how much to tell his son. He wanted Chris to understand, but he didn't want to make the boy uncomfortable around Johnny.

"You remember the talks your mom and I have had with both you and Jenny... about how your bodies are private and no one should touch you in ways that make you uncomfortable?"

Chris nodded slowly, his eyes wide with apprehension. Roy sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"That man... he did things to Uncle Johnny that he shouldn't have... things that made Uncle Johnny feel very badly. There wasn't anything he could do about it. He was a prisoner. But some people... like Mr. Larson... are going to think that because he was there for so long that he wanted those things to happen."

"That's crazy, Dad!" Chris burst out indignantly. "Why would he want..."

Roy held up his hand to quiet his son. "I'm just telling you what some people might think. You may hear people say things like yesterday... hurtful things. But they're not true."

"Of course not," Chris declared adamantly.

"Good. And I want this talk to be just between you and me... man to man, okay?"

Chris smiled at that. "Okay, Dad."

Roy indulged in a moment of pride in his son, then he looked back down at his cereal and grimaced.

"There's gotta be something better for breakfast," he chuckled.

Chris laughed as Roy got up and dumped the soggy mess into the sink. He dug into the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs.

"Want some scrambled eggs?" he asked.

"No, thanks," Chris answered, tipping his bowl to his mouth and slurping up the last of his milk. Roy gave him a look, but Chris only giggled.

"I'll take some if you're offering."

Roy glanced at the doorway to see Johnny standing there, already showered and dressed.

"Sure, have a seat. They'll be ready in a minute."

Johnny limped to the table and sat down beside Chris. Roy didn't notice any hesitation before his son smiled and offered a bright, "Mornin', Uncle Johnny."

Roy set a cup of coffee in front of his partner and received a grateful nod.

"Thanks, Roy." Johnny looked up and a grin played at the corner of his mouth. "Are those Eggs Lupin?"

"Oh, very funny," Roy retorted. "If you're gonna make fun of me, I won't cook." Roy shook his head at the memory of the failed recipe. "I don't think I ever told Eileen how bad they turned out."

"Hey, I liked 'em," Johnny reminded him.

In a few minutes, Roy set two plates with eggs and toast on the table. He got Johnny's vitamins from off the counter and shook out the proper amount of pills, giving them to his partner along with a glass of juice to take them with.

Roy sat down and began to eat, pleased to see that Johnny appeared to have an appetite this morning. Without Joanne here to remind him to slow down, Roy had breakfast bolted down in a few minutes - another habit developed from years of being a fireman and eating meals while you had a chance. He sat and sipped at his coffee, casting occasional glances at his partner to see how much he actually ate.

Chris had stayed at the table with them, munching on toast. He hadn't said much, but he seemed content to keep them company. But Roy suddenly realized his son was staring at Johnny's arm as it rested on the table. He knew it was natural for the kids to be curious, but the last thing Roy wanted was Chris ruining what seemed to be starting out a good day for Johnny. He set down his coffee and cleared his throat, hoping to get Chris' attention. His son refused to take the hint, but Johnny looked up to see what he wanted. Roy gave up trying to be subtle. "Chris, if you're done, you can leave the table."

Now Chris did look up, his face puzzled by what he might have done wrong. Johnny glanced at the boy, then back at Roy. He too looked confused. Roy rolled his eyes, but he decided to just follow through.

"Chris..."

"Okay, Dad." The boy picked up his bowl and glass and started to get up from the table. He stopped though and sat back down, his brows drawn together. "Uncle Johnny... can I ask you something?"

"Chris." This time his tone was dark, but Johnny shook his head.

"It's okay, Roy." He turned to the boy. "What do you want to know, Chris?" he asked softly.

Roy was petrified that his son was going to delve into the topic they'd discussed earlier, but Chris surprised him. The boy reached out a tentative hand toward Johnny's wrist, almost, but not quite, touching the scars there. To Roy's amazement, Johnny didn't move his hand away.

"Are those from handcuffs?" Chris asked, his voice cautious.

Johnny closed his eyes a moment, then nodded slowly, bringing his other hand to rub at the marks there. "Yeah," he replied in a voice so low it was almost inaudible. "I had them on a lot of times."

Chris regarded the prominent scars, then nodded. "That's what I thought they were. Dad has some too."

Johnny turned his dark eyes on Roy, then glanced down to where his arms rested on the table. Roy self-consciously rubbed at his own, less visible marks, knowing they could never compare to the scars Johnny bore. He cleared his throat again, this time in embarrassment at not knowing what to say. It was Chris, though, who broke the moment. He got up from the table, took his bowl over to the sink, then turned around to face both men.

"You know what? I think Mr. Larson is a big fat jerk."

With that declaration, he left the kitchen.

Roy smiled as he watched his son leave, but turned when he felt a touch on his wrist. Johnny's fingers were tracing the line left by the cuffs. Roy held his breath, not sure how his partner would react.

"Reggie did that." It was a statement, not a question, but Roy nodded anyway.

"Yeah, he did."

Johnny finally looked up and met Roy's eyes. "And he shot you."

"Yeah... twice. And he left me to die there. Reggie did that, Johnny, not you. Reggie did everything."

Johnny looked away and Roy decided not to push any further. He scooted back from the table. "Hey, the Dodgers are playing the Reds later this morning. How 'bout we take over the living room for the duration."

Johnny's smile returned, not with quite as much enthusiasm, but it was there and Roy would settle for that right now.

* * *

Monday

Roy glanced at Johnny. He sat huddled against the door, his face growing more and more anxious. He didn't want to be here, that was obvious, but Roy was determined that they keep this appointment with the orthopedist. Brackett had pulled a lot of strings to set it up for first thing Monday morning. Roy didn't want Johnny to miss it.

He turned into the main drive to Rampart, heading for the patient drop off. Dixie was going to meet them there with a wheel chair so Johnny would be spared a long walk.

"I wanna go home, Roy." It was the first thing Johnny had said since they left the house.

"Johnny, you need to get your leg taken care of," Roy reminded again. "We're not going through ER, so you probably won't see anybody you know. Just Dixie and maybe Brackett."

Johnny folded his arms and sighed. Roy took heart in the fact that this seemed like a normal Gage sulk, rather than his panic reaction.

"He's just gonna examine your leg, maybe take a few more x-rays. It won't take long."

"But what if he wants to do surgery?" Johnny asked.

"Well, he won't do it today," Roy tried to reason.

"I don't wanna have surgery," Johnny insisted petulantly.

Roy shook his head. "We don't know that you'll have to. That's why we're seeing the ortho." He made a turn and entered the circular drive. "Wonder what's going on? There's a whole bunch of people hanging around."

Johnny leaned forward curiously. "Maybe some celebrity had a face lift or..."

"Shit!" Roy had seem them at the same time Johnny did, the microphones and cameras, all poised and waiting - for them.

"Roy?"

There was a tremor in Johnny's voice, and he shrank away from the window as reporters pressed up against Roy's Porsche.

"Hang on," Roy told him, not knowing exactly what to do. He didn't want to just drive away. This appointment was too important. But he knew Johnny would never be able to walk through this crowd, let alone have to listen to their barrage of questions. Just when he was about to get out and start interfering with freedom of the press, the side of the car was suddenly cleared and a row of blue clad uniforms made a path up to where Roy could see Dixie waiting.

Relieved, Roy got out of the car and came around to Johnny's side. Ron Crockett appeared next to him.

"Where did you come from?" Roy asked. "Not that I'm not glad to see you."

Crockett nodded in Dixie's direction. "Miss McCall phoned. She said she tried to call you at home, but you'd already left. Seems our little leak is getting worse."

"Tell me about it." Roy waved to Dixie to bring the chair, then he opened up the car door and leaned inside. "C'mon, Johnny," he urged. "They won't bother you now."

Johnny didn't looked convinced. He sat as far over in his seat as he could go, his eyes wide and frightened.

"I... I don't wanna talk to them," he stammered.

"You don't have to," Roy assured him. "Crockett's got his men here, and I'll be right beside you. Nobody's gonna bother you." He leaned farther inside and grabbed his partner's hand. "C'mon." Johnny met Roy's eyes and slowly began to scoot closer, until he was climbing out of the car. As soon as he emerged, the press started clamoring loudly, trying to shout their questions past the line of police. Johnny shrank back and would have crawled back into the car, but Roy held his arm and steered him into the wheelchair, taking over from Dixie. He gave his keys to Lieutenant Crockett who was going to park the car when the mob moved away.

"I'm so sorry about all this," the nurse apologized loudly as Roy pushed Johnny through the line of noisy reporters. "I have no idea how they knew he'd be here."

"It's not your fault, Dix," Roy assured her. He glanced down at Johnny. The dark head was bowed low as cameras flashed at him. "Let's just get him outta here."

It wasn't far to the main entrance, but it seemed to take forever until they were safely inside and the door shut behind them, cutting off the noise. Roy breathed a sigh of relief, then glanced down at his passenger.

"You okay?" he asked.

Johnny's knuckles were white where they gripped the arms of the wheelchair, but he managed a small nod. Roy was thankful that at least Johnny had held it together.

As they made their way to the elevator, Roy saw several people staring at them. Johnny still had his head down and Roy hoped the younger man didn't notice the attention he was getting. By the time the elevator door closed, Roy felt like they'd crossed through a battle zone.

"Damn, I hate reporters," he breathed out.

"Kel's going to be furious," Dixie declared. "When he finds out who leaked this, I don't want to even be in the building." She reached down and patted Johnny's hand. "I'm really sorry," she told him. "I would never have put you through that."

Johnny lifted his head to meet Dixie's worried eyes. "I know, Dix," he said quietly. He even managed to give her a small smile, but Roy could still see the fear in his eyes and knew he'd been shaken by the encounter.

They got to Dr. Reynolds' office. The orthopedist had cleared his morning appointments to fit Johnny in, and the office was empty except for the receptionist. The pretty young woman smiled a greeting.

"It's nice to see you, Mr. Gage. Could you please fill out these forms?" She held out a clipboard.

Dixie took the clipboard, handed it to Johnny and sat down next to him.

"Roy, I think Kel wants to see you," she said as Johnny shuffled through the papers, looking a little overwhelmed.

The dark head shot up when he heard that. "You're gonna leave?" he asked, his voice broadcasting his uncertainty about going through the exam alone.

"Just for a few minutes," Roy assured him.

"I'll stay with you if you'd like," Dixie volunteered.

Roy crouched down to be on eye level with his partner. "It's gonna be just like I told you. He'll look at your leg, maybe take a few more x-rays... piece of cake." Roy smiled in Dixie's direction. "Dixie will call me if you need me, okay?" Roy stood up and gave Johnny's shoulder a light squeeze. "I'll probably be back before you're done."

Walking out of the doctor's office was one of the hardest things Roy had done. He hated leaving Johnny like that. But he knew what Dr. Brackett wanted to see him about and Roy was eager to get this meeting going.

He thought he would have to go all the way down to ER, but he found Dr. Brackett and another man waiting for him in the hall.

"Roy, this is Dr. Evans," Brackett introduced. "He's the psychologist I told you about."

Roy held out his hand to shake the doctor's hand. He was a short man, in his fifties, with a round, pleasant face. "Nice to meet ya, Doc," he greeted.

"Why don't we talk in here, Roy." Brackett motioned to a nearby conference room. "We'll be close by if Johnny needs you."

Roy nodded gratefully and followed the two doctors into the small room, taking a seat at the table.

"As I told you on the phone," Dr. Brackett began, addressing Roy, "Dr. Evans has had quite a bit of experience with cases like Johnny's... kidnapping victims, people who've been held hostage, rape victims."

Roy cringed at that word and Dr. Evans regarded him sympathetically.

"I see that term makes you uncomfortable," the psychologist observed. "But that is in essence what happened to your partner. In order to truly help, you will have to get over that instinctive revulsion we men have that it can't happen to us. It can and it does."

Roy started to protest, but no words came out of his mouth. The doctor was right. He did have some of those notions in his head. But Johnny's case seemed a little more complicated to him than just a random act of violence.

"I'm sure you're right, Doc," he replied. "But what happened to Johnny... it's more than just... r-rape." He felt stupid that he stumbled over the word, but the psychologist didn't seem to think it unusual.

"Quite true," the man agreed. "From what I know of the case, from the police files and what Dr. Brackett has given me, I realize Mr. Gage's case is quite complex. Now, until I actually talk with John, I'm just giving you generalities, but I know you're anxious to help, and I'd like to help you get a grasp on what to expect."

Roy leaned forward, eager for some direction.

"John's behavior... his moods... do they swing? Okay one moment, depressed the next."

The paramedic nodded. "It's hard to know what's gonna upset him. Sometimes he's okay to talk about what happened and sometimes... well, he has these panic attacks. He just shuts down."

"We had to sedate him a couple days ago," Brackett added. "The day the press showed up at the house."

The psychologist nodded at this information. "That's to be expected. Making the transition from his life as a captive to his normal life is difficult at best."

"He's having really bad nightmares, too," Roy added. "So he doesn't sleep much and I know he's not eating like he should."

"How much has he actually told you about his experience?" the doctor asked.

Roy blew out a long breath. "Little bits here and there. Not a lot."

"We know some things by his physical state," Dr. Brackett spoke up. "We know he was brutalized, but not a lot of particulars."

"I got some of those on Saturday," Roy said reluctantly. "Johnny got upset and said more than he has since he got back. That Reggie is one sick bastard."

"Well, we knew that," Brackett agreed wholeheartedly.

Roy shook his head. "It's more than just what you think, Doc," Roy told him. "It's weird. He's got some kind of hold on Johnny. He was actually defending him... trying to tell me Reggie loved him. Why would Johnny think that?"

"I know you're concerned, Roy," Dr. Evans said kindly. "But that, too, is typical. These kinds of men are almost always very intelligent and very adept at manipulating their victims. They not only get them to do what they want, but to think what they want. Also, the longer the victim is with his captor, the more a bond forms between them. It's similar to what we find with battered wives, abused children. They love the people who harm them the most and refuse to leave them or press charges. Now, John was with this Reggie for over eighteen months. That's a long time. He may very well feel some loyalty to the man... even love."

"Love... Doc, how can you even..."

"Now, wait. Calm down. Hear me out. This man was the only human contact John had for a year and a half. Whatever moments of kindness or pleasure Reggie deigned to give him would have been clung to like a lifeline, looked forward to, even cherished. The tormentor becomes a benevolent savior when he acts like this, providing a respite from the pain, which of course, he provides as well, but in the victim's mind, that becomes separate. He loves the person who treats him kindly. It's not a normal healthy love, but it is strong nonetheless."

Roy sat silent, trying to comprehend the enormity of what the doctor had just told him. To think of Johnny as that kind of victim wasn't an easy thing, but he flashed back to what his partner had said... 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... Roy leaned his face into his hands.

Johnny... God, Johnny... was that what it was like for you?

"Roy?" Dr. Brackett put a hand on the paramedic's shoulder.

Roy lifted his head. "I'm okay," he said, giving Brackett a slight smile. He turned to face Dr. Evans. "What do we do? How do we help him?"

The older man smiled encouragingly. "Mostly what you're doing now. Be there for him. Be his friend. He's going to be dealing with a lot of feelings: shame, guilt, depression, lack of self worth, even questioning his own sexual identity. He's going to need all the friends and family he can get. Does he have family?"

Roy shook his head. "Not to speak of. His mom died when he was a kid. His dad passed away a few years ago. He has an aunt... well, a great aunt actually. She's elderly and lives in a nursing home now. Me and my family, we sort of adopted him and..." Roy paused, chagrined that he kept forgetting that John was a father. "He has a daughter. She was born while he was gone, but he didn't know about her before he was taken. "

Dr. Evans was pulling at his chin thoughtfully. "What about the baby's mother? Is she someone John can count on?"

Roy couldn't keep back a derisive snort. "Not hardly. She gave Missy up. My wife and I are... were raising her."

"And how is John reacting to being a parent? Does he seem interested in the child?"

Roy nodded. "Yeah, I think so. He's talked about us keeping her, but I really think he'd make a good father if he could get his head together... maybe get his life back on track."

The psychologist looked happy with that answer. "That may provide a catalyst to spark his interest in getting help." He looked at Roy. "Do you think he'll be agreeable to have some sessions with me?"

"I don't know, Doc. Maybe. I don't wanna force him. It was hard enough to get him to the ortho today, and after what we had to go through just for that..."

"Well, keep encouraging him. Don't let him give up on himself. And feel free to call my office if you have any questions or if anything urgent comes up."

Roy nodded and got up. "Thanks, Doc. You've been a big help."

"I'd like to go on helping."

Roy shook the psychologist's hand, then bid both doctors goodbye. He walked out of the conference room and back into the orthopedist's office with his head spinning. It sounded like this Dr. Evans would really be able to help Johnny, now if only he could convince his partner to see the man.

* * *

"No! I'm not gonna see a shrink."

Roy repressed the exasperated sigh that threatened to escape. Johnny had come back from the hospital visit in an obstinate mood, and nothing Roy had said seemed to make any difference.

"But why? If he can help you..."

"Help me what?" Johnny's eyes were dark and brooding. "Remember what happened? I don't need any help with that. I remember it all." He sat on the deck, his leg stretched out on the lounger, an ice pack on his knee, all advice from Dr. Reynolds to help the inflammation go down.

Roy sat beside his friend, remembering everything Dr. Evans had told him about mood swings being normal, and trying not to lose his patience.

"He can help you deal with things," Roy pointed out reasonably. "So you can go back to work and..."

"Work?" Johnny's face looked incredulous. "How am I gonna go back to work? Who's gonna work with me? I'm the fag fireman, remember? I'm the one who liked it so much he stuck around for more."

"Johnny, you can't honestly think..."

"Why the hell not? That's what the whole world thinks, isn't it? You saw all those reporters. You really think they were there to find out about my trip to the ortho? You think there's anybody in the whole damn Fire Department who doesn't think the same thing they do?"

Roy regarded his angry partner with kindness. "Nobody who knows you thinks that," he replied, keeping his voice purposefully calm.

"Yes they do... they all do." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "So it doesn't make any difference what I do. I don't need to see a shrink and..." He reached down, grabbed the ice pack and flung it far across the yard. "I don't need any god damn surgery." He folded his arms and lay back against the chaise lounge, his jaw set. Roy let him alone, knowing he had to work through this himself. After a moment, the younger man turned to face him.

"Just tell me one thing, Roy. Would you wanna work with me?"

Roy smiled. "That's easy. Yes. You're my partner. When you're ready to come back to work, we'll be partners again." He let his smile grow a little wider. "Course, right now, you're being a pain in the ass, so I don't know if I'd work with you today..."

Johnny's sour face slowly faded and a self-conscious grin took its place. "Sorry," he mumbled. He grew serious again and turned to gaze out over the yard. "It just seems like it's all so far away... like I can never get there again."

"You will, Johnny," Roy assured him, his tone determined. "You may have to work a little to make it, but you know I'll be right here. And Joanne and the kids... and Missy. She's here for you too, Johnny."

The younger man nodded, his face thoughtful. Roy sat back and kept silent as well. He could only help so much. Some things Johnny was going to have to do himself.

* * *

Tuesday

The air was still and the night was hot... too hot. Too hot for the hands that were on him... the sweat and hot breath... the body pushing against him and inside of him. He didn't want him there anymore... Since the last time he'd been punished, nothing had been right. Even the physical pleasure he got from the games had dulled... everything had changed.

It had been so unfair. He'd been so tired, but he had still been willing to play. But he'd been punished anyway. It wasn't right. But he couldn't tell Reggie that. Reggie would just get mad at him, and he couldn't risk that. He needed Reggie to be happy. He made sure Reggie was happy, but now Reggie's words rang in his ears like a death knell.

We'll be together forever, Johnny. It's going to be just like this forever...

He couldn't do this forever. He couldn't be here forever. Something had to happen.

He could almost hear the night... only the sound of Reggie's breathing disrupted the absolute quiet - Reggie's sated, satisfied breathing. He slipped out of bed, not even bothering to pull on his shorts. He made his way softly from the bedroom into the other room... that room... the hated room. His stomach knotted as he entered, rebelling at being in here. But he had a purpose and he had to do what he came for. He opened drawer after drawer until he found what he was looking for.

Just as quietly, he returned to the bed. He stared at the sleeping figure, the naked skin slick with sweat. He felt nothing... no love, no hate... just emptiness.

He bent down and picked up the forgotten chain fastened to the wall. It used to be his... used to be a part of his leg, but he couldn't even remember when Reggie had stopped using it on him... when Reggie had become confident he would never leave. He took the end, quailing only slightly, then in one swift movement, clamped the shackle around Reggie's ankle.

He stepped back, afraid. Reggie had moved in his sleep, disturbed by the feel of the cold metal. He rolled over, eyes blinking open, first in confusion, then in anger as he lifted his leg and found himself restrained.

What are you doing, Johnny? You're breaking the rules. You know what that means? Why are you doing this? You know I'll have to punish you. Wasn't it bad enough the last time?

He fought back the rush of fear, and he raised the gun.

No more. No more punishment. No more.

He saw Reggie's eyes widen. Saw for the first time that Reggie could know fear. For an instant he wavered, felt sadness, regret, grief for what was ending.

Johnny, don't do this. I love you, Johnny. You were the best. I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted to play with you. You liked to play with me, I know you did. You were a good boy, Johnny. Remember how good it was when we played?

Yes... I remember.

Then his finger moved and there was a blast that left his ears ringing. And then another blast... and another until the chamber on the gun clicked empty. And then blood... so much blood. It was on the walls and on the bed and on the floor. His hand was shaking violently as he dropped the gun to the floor. He slowly slid down the door frame, never taking his eyes off Reggie's lifeless body.

I remember... I remember...

Johnny sat on the deck, staring into the gray morning sky. He'd awakened from the dream feeling this odd nothingness. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't sad. He was just empty. He couldn't lie in bed any longer and had come outside, breathing in the damp spring air.

He felt detached from everything. Nothing mattered anymore. He folded his arms onto his upraised knees and leaned his chin there, listening to the birds singing.

He closed his eyes, hearing every sound the neighborhood made as it slowly woke up. Sprinklers were running somewhere, a car started up, a door closed. If he kept his eyes closed, he could become a part of it. Maybe, if he stretched out his arms, he could touch it all like the rays of the sun just peeking through the coastal fog.

I could disappear. No one would see me. I wouldn't be there anymore.

"Johnny?"

Johnny's gone.

He felt someone sit down beside him.

If I don't open my eyes, he won't see me. I'll still be gone.

"Another bad dream?"

He heaved a sigh. Roy wasn't going to let him disappear. He opened his eyes and everything was the same as it had been before.

"Not a dream," he answered softly. "Not a dream this time. It was real... it was all real."

"It'll get better," Roy said, his voice quiet in the cool air. "You need some time is all. Time and distance will help."

Johnny shook his head. "I don't think so." He turned his head so he could see Roy.

He's a good friend. Better than I deserve. He should know the truth. He deserves to know.

"Reggie's dead, Roy," he blurted out, his voice sounding unnaturally loud. He waited for Roy to look his way, wanted to see his face, the disgust that would be there. "I killed him."

He saw surprise, and a great deal of compassion, but no judgment.

"You wanna tell me?"

He sighed again. "Why don't you call Crockett. I only wanna do this once."

"You got it." Roy put a hand on his shoulder for a moment before he got up and went into the house.

Johnny never moved, his gaze still focused on the backyard. When Roy returned, the younger man didn't even know how long his friend had been gone.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," Roy told him. "Want some coffee while we wait?"

Johnny shrugged. "You go ahead." But Roy never moved from his side until the doorbell rang.

"You wanna go inside?" Roy asked.

"No. I'm fine right here." He didn't want to move. For some reason, he was glued to this spot.

In a few moments, Roy brought Lieutenant Crockett outside. Johnny glanced up at the officer. He looked a little sleepy eyed, but there was also an air of anticipation about him. Johnny knew this man had been more than patient, but was anxious to get on with the case.

Roy resumed his place beside Johnny. Crockett pulled up a chair on the other side of Roy. There was a moment of awkward silence, then the detective spoke.

"How about I just ask you some questions, John?"

He nodded, wondering why he wasn't more afraid of this moment.

"Roy says you told him Reggie was dead."

"Yes," he whispered.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"What happened to him?"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He flinched, hearing the gun shots in his head.

"I shot him."

Why did you make me kill you, Reggie?

"Um..." Crockett's voice sounded unsure. "Okay, John, before you say anything else, just let me read you your rights."

"His rights?" Roy echoed, his voice incredulous. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Now, Roy, I have to do this by the book. If John shot this man..."

"I did," Johnny restated simply, not sure what Roy was upset about.

"Johnny, don't say anything," Roy cautioned, then turned back to the detective. "I called you here to help out your investigation, not to get John caught up in a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo. The last thing he needs is..."

"Hold on, hold on," Crockett interrupted, his hands out in a placating gesture. "I'm not trying to cause any problems for John or anybody. But if this man's dead, there'll at least be an inquest. That's the law. I'm not saying any charges will be filed, I'm just trying to do this the right way. This is for John's protection."

Roy still didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything else as Crockett turned to Johnny and recited the well known words. Johnny listened distractedly until the detective was done. "You understand your rights, John?" he asked. "That you don't have to say anything to me without an attorney?"

Johnny nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said softly. "I don't want a lawyer."

Crockett nodded and resumed his questions. "Do you know where you were held?"

Johnny closed his eyes. Our house was blue... kinda gray blue. It had two stories and an old fashioned porch with pillars. But you can't go to our house. Nobody can. "Not exactly. There wasn't much around us."

"Did you see the area at all?"

"Sometimes... if I was good... Reggie would take me to the lake. It was small and we never saw anybody else there. But it was nice. There were trees and we could swim a little. Sometimes..." He swallowed at the flash of memory.

Take off your clothes, Johnny and see how soft the grass is.

He shook his head, chasing the voice away.

"Sometimes what, John?" Crockett's voice was nothing but kindness.

He shrugged. It didn't matter anymore. "Sometimes we played the game."

"Okay," Crockett said, and changed the subject. "What happened after you... after Reggie died? What did you do?"

I cried. I cried until I was too tired to cry anymore.

"I left. I just left. I didn't take anything with me. I just wanted to get out."

"And you just walked? Do you know how long it was before Sergeant Starnes found you?"

"No. I don't remember much about that. It's all kinda fuzzy."

"Well, you couldn't have gone too far. No food, no water... somebody would have seen you if you'd gone through a town. That might mean you weren't too far from Tulare. I can ask the police there if they know of an isolated lake where the house might be. They've already been circulating Reggie's composite. How did you get your food and supplies? Did he ever leave and go shopping?"

"Yeah. At first, he'd make sure I couldn't go anywhere when he had to leave. Later... well, it didn't matter so much later."

"You mean he'd leave you alone and you didn't try and get away?"

Of course I didn't. Reggie told me not to. "I wasn't supposed to leave without Reggie. That was a rule. I tried really hard not to break the rules."

Roy made a small sound of dismay, and Crockett cleared his throat. "Uh, John, do you recall seeing anything on his grocery bags? A store name?"

I helped put things away. What was that name? Cramer, maybe. Cramer's Foods. "No. I can't remember anything like that."

"Are you sure, John. The name of a local merchant could really help us locate the house. At least narrow down the area."

They wanna find the house. They can't go there.

"Why do you wanna go there? I told you Reggie's dead."

"We still need closure on this case, John. Those other men... we need to find the evidence that links Reggie to their deaths."

"Oh." He sat silent for a moment, trying to keep his face passive. If the police go in there, they'll look in all the rooms... they'll see everything.

Crockett paused a moment before he asked his next question. "John... can you tell me about the shooting? The circumstances?"

I love you, Johnny, please don't shoot me.

It took him a moment to make his voice work. "We... uh, he was asleep. I... I got up and... he was there... on the bed. I just... I..."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He clapped his hands to his ears to shut out the sound of the gun.

"Johnny. It's all right. It's over. It's not happening now."

Roy's calming voice filtered into his senses slowly and he could hear him telling Lieutenant Crockett that was all they would get for now. There were footsteps and doors opening and then Roy was sitting beside him again. The quiet of the morning had returned.

* * *

Wednesday

Joanne came downstairs with Missy's pajamas in hand. Dinner was over and all the dishes cleaned up. It was getting close to bedtime, at least for the baby. Chris and Jenny had another couple of hours before Joanne would start making noises about them going to bed. Right now, they were in the middle of a game of Aggravation and judging from the good natured bickering she could hear, the game was living up to its name. What surprised her was to hear Johnny's voice in the middle of the debate. As she entered the living room, Joanne saw her kids at the coffee table and Johnny on the couch, his leg propped up beside the game board and Missy on his lap. Not only was he playing with the kids, he was also keeping the baby from grabbing the marbles off the board. From the looks of things, he had his hands full.

Joanne glanced over at Roy, who was sitting in the recliner, trying to watch television above the clamor of the game. She came over and perched on the arm of the chair. Roy smiled up at her as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Looks pretty good," she observed quietly.

Roy glanced over and nodded, his smile widening. "Let's hope it stays that way."

Joanne gave his shoulder a squeeze. Today had been calm. After talking to Lieutenant Crockett yesterday, Johnny had settled into a detached complacency. He hadn't had any more anxiety attacks, yet he hadn't displayed any real interest in joining in their daily routines. Joanne took his interest in the kids as a good sign. She was especially happy that he was playing with Missy again. She knew that bond needed to grow strong if the two of them were ever going to be able to live as father and daughter.

The telephone rang and Joanne got up to answer it. On her way, she dropped Missy's pajamas next to Johnny. He picked them up and looked at her questioningly.

"Can you put those on her?" she asked, smiling at his pleased expression. "Jennifer, get a diaper so Uncle Johnny can change her." His face faltered only slightly at that, and Joanne was still chuckling as she picked up the phone.

"Hello, DeSoto's."

"Hi, Joanne, it's Ron."

Moving out of hearing range of Johnny and the kids, Joanne spoke with the Lieutenant for a few minutes, then hung up and came back into the living room. She hated to break up this moment, especially the fun Johnny seemed to be having, but she didn't want to discuss this matter with the kids in the room. She moved over to the sit by Johnny on the couch. He was still struggling with the confusing rows of snaps that fastened Missy's pajama bottoms to the top. Missy was lying on the couch, gurgling happily at her father's inexperienced handling.

"Chris, Jen, why don't you two go on up and get ready for bed."

"Bed?" Chris echoed indignantly and glanced at the clock. "It's only seven o'clock."

"We're in the middle of a game," Jennifer protested.

"Do what your mother says," Roy intervened, his tone firm, though he did give Joanne a look that told her he didn't know what she was up to.

"But that's not fair," Chris continued to argue.

"Christopher..."

"Okay, okay," the boy conceded. "Geeze."

"You can come back down in a while and finish your game," Joanne told them as both kids sulked up the stairs.

Johnny had finally finished dressing Missy and she sat up, reaching across his lap to Joanne.

"Ma-ma," she asked and Joanne obliged by picking her up. She saw that both Roy and Johnny were regarding her curiously.

"That was Crockett on the phone," she told them. Johnny immediately lowered his gaze uncomfortably. Roy looked curious.

"What did he want? Have they found the house?"

Joanne had been watching Johnny carefully. As soon as Roy mentioned the house, the younger man lost the spark he'd had earlier. He seemed to shrink away from them, even though he hadn't moved an inch.

"No," she answered. "Not yet." Joanne could have sworn Johnny sagged in relief. She glanced at Roy and knew he was aware of his partner's reactions as well. "He said they've got a joint task force going on with L.A. and Tulare Counties, but the area they're trying to cover is pretty spread out with a lot of isolated pockets." She let her hand come to rest on Johnny's leg, trying to be comforting. "Johnny, he wanted to know if there's even a little bit more you can give them to go on. Anything to narrow down the area they're looking in."

Johnny shook his head. "No," he declared emphatically. "I don't remember. I already told him that."

"It's okay, Johnny," Roy soothed. "Don't worry about it. He's just checking."

Johnny's arms came up, and Joanne knew he was growing defensive. "Why do they have to find it?" he asked bitterly.

"Crockett already explained that," Roy started to point out, but Johnny interrupted him.

"I heard what he said, but they already know Reggie did it. I told them what he did. Why don't they just leave him alone?"

"Who?" Joanne asked. "Reggie?"

Johnny nodded miserably. "They should just leave him alone. That way he can't hurt anybody."

Joanne exchanged a worried look with Roy. He got up from the recliner and came over to sit on Johnny's other side. "Johnny, Reggie can't hurt anyone anymore. He's gone," he reminded his partner gently.

"Reggie's not gone, Roy," Johnny countered quietly.

"But you said he's dead."

Johnny nodded, his face twisted with an inner torment, Joanne knew neither she nor Roy would ever fully understand. "He's dead," he agreed softly. "But he's not gone. He's still here." Johnny lifted his hand to his head. "He's still in here and doesn't wanna let go."

Joanne felt tears sting her eyes at the sheer desperation in Johnny's voice. Roy must have heard it too. He was silent a moment, his face pensive. He finally cleared his throat before he spoke again.

"Johnny, maybe... maybe what you need to do is see for yourself. When they find the house, maybe you and I can go out there and..."

Johnny's head snapped up, his face horrified. "No! You can't go there. I already told you..."

Roy put a hand on the younger man's shoulder in a calming gesture. "I know what you said. But maybe the only way you can put Reggie to rest is to see for yourself..."

"No!"

Roy tried again in his most reasonable tone. "Look, Johnny... you've already told me most of it. There's nothing out there that I don't already know about."

"Roy, please... don't go out there. Please don't..."

Johnny turned away, but not before Joanne had seen the terror in his eyes. She felt a chill run down her spine and wondered if maybe Roy was wrong. Maybe there were things still out at that house he would be better off never knowing about.

* * *

Johnny stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Reggie lay upon the sheets, his naked body covered in blood. As he watched, the dead man sat up and smiled at him.

"I'm so glad you came back to see me. I've missed you."

"You're dead. I killed you."

Reggie heaved a long suffering sigh.

"That does create a problem. How can we play the game if I'm dead?"

"We don't. I'm not playing anymore."

Reggie smiled a dangerous smile. "That's what you think. The game never stops." He patted the bloodied sheets suggestively. "I can still make you play with me. Come over here, Johnny and we'll play again."

"No! I won't play with you. You're dead."

Reggie's smile widened. "Sure you will, Johnny. You love me and you'll always play with me." He held out his hand. "Come over here and show me that you still love me. I'll even forgive you for shooting me."

He felt his feet start to move.

"That's right. Over here. That's a good boy, Johnny."

He moved again, his legs acting on their own volition.

"No, Reggie, I don't want to be with you anymore. Don't make me do this."

"But, Johnny, look at yourself. You're all ready to be with me."

He glanced down and found that he was naked and fully aroused. His feet took a few more steps toward the bed.

"No! Please don't make me, Reggie. I don't like this anymore."

"Now, Johnny, you know you're not supposed to lie to me. How can you say you don't want this? Just look what you brought me."

He felt the cold, dead hand encircle him and the sensation that shot through his entire body rocked him to the core. He sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to stand.

"That's it, my love. Let me take care of you. Don't mind the blood, Johnny. It won't matter. You'll get used to it. I have."

The hand began to move and Johnny felt himself being pressed down onto the bed. He closed his eyes to block out the carnage that surrounded him, realizing that Reggie was going to have him right here in all this gore.

"No, Reggie, please. I don't want this. Please let me go... let me go..."

He felt the weight of the larger man's body press down upon him and opened his eyes to see Reggie's face inches from his own, his eyes cold and piercing.

"You'll always be mine, Johnny. Always..."

Reggie's face lowered, but at the last moment blood began trickling from between the open lips. It dripped down into Johnny's own mouth.

"No!" He gagged and tried to spit out the offensive fluid, but he could see Reggie still intent on completing the grisly kiss. "No! God, let me go! No!"

* * *

Roy heard Johnny's screams at the same time Chris burst into his room, his voice nearly as shrill as Johnny's.

"Dad! Dad, come quick!"

Roy flew out of bed, instantly awake, bolting into the hall. He barely registered Jenny huddled in her bedroom doorway, or Missy crying from the nursery. Johnny's cries were still coming strong from Chris' room. Roy ran in and flipped on the light, showing him the empty spare bed, the sheets and blanket in a tangled mess.

"Johnny?" Roy rushed to the side of the bed and found his partner cowering in the small space between the mattress and the wall. He was curled up as tight as he could make himself, his face tucked into his knees, his anguished cries filling the air.

"Johnny..." He pushed the bed aside to make more room and crawled up close to his terrified friend, making sure he didn't touch him. "Johnny, wake up... it's just a dream. You're all right. Wake up, Johnny. I'm right here. You're okay." He kept up the constant litany, hoping it would somehow reach into Johnny's dream induced terror.

He must have gotten through, at least to some degree. Johnny's screams gradually subsided. He still hadn't relaxed from his defensive posture, and his eyes were still squeezed shut, but Roy finally felt it would be safe to touch his friend, and he rested his hand on Johnny's dark head, feeling only the slightest flinch as he did so.

"It's all right now, Johnny," he soothed quietly. "It's all over. It was just a dream. Nobody's gonna hurt you."

In the relative quiet, Roy could now hear other sounds: Joanne's hushed voice, talking softly to the kids, Jenny's quiet crying. He didn't hear Missy any longer and he hoped Joanne had been able to get her back to sleep. He had faith that his wife had that end of things under control and he concentrated on the man who needed his help right now. Johnny's breathing seemed less ragged and Roy's own heart rate and breathing was slowing as the first rush of adrenaline wore off.

"Roy?"

He glanced up at the doorway and saw Joanne standing there, a sleeping baby in her arms.

"You need anything in here?"

He let his gaze move to Johnny. The younger man had quieted, his breathing almost normal. Roy shook his head.

"I don't think so, Jo," he answered. "He's calming down now. I'll just sit with him."

"Okay. Chris and Jen are laying down in our bed. You wanna stay here with Johnny tonight?"

Roy sighed. "Yeah. I can sack out in Chris' bed. You go ahead and stay with the kids."

"All right. Love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too," he answered. Joanne disappeared into the hall and Roy leaned back against the bed, rubbing a hand across his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how long Johnny would be plagued with these nightmares.

"R-Roy?"

Roy's head snapped up at the sound of Johnny's raspy voice. He could see his friend's eyes were open now, blinking in the light. The paramedic got up and turned on the dimmer desk lamp, then flicked off the overhead light.

"Better?"

He could see Johnny give a small nod as he pulled himself to an upright position, his body shivering. Roy grabbed the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his friend's slim frame as he sat back down beside him.

"That musta been a doozy," he observed lightly, trying to see how willing Johnny was to address the subject.

"You don't wanna know," Johnny answered hoarsely, through chattering teeth. He pulled the blanket closer around himself. It wasn't cold, but Roy knew Johnny was feeling the after effects of his emotional outburst.

"Maybe," Roy conceded. "But if you need to tell me, I'm willing to listen."

Johnny gave him a long look, then lowered his eyes and let out a sigh. "If I tell you..." He paused and brought his hands up to his face. "I... I don't want you to hate me, Roy."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I do," Johnny answered harshly. He pressed his hands into his forehead.

Roy reached up and tugged Johnny's hands away so he could look at him.

"Johnny, listen to me. You didn't do anything that would make me hate you, and you don't have any reason to hate yourself."

"Yes, I do," he countered and his arms wrapped around himself. Roy was afraid he was going to shut down, but that didn't happen. Instead, he looked up at Roy, his face full of despair. "You don't know," he said brokenly. "You don't know."

"Then tell me," Roy said, with more force than he'd intended. He made an effort to calm himself. "Tell me," he repeated more gently. "I wanna help, Johnny, but I can't unless you let me."

Johnny's eyes were wide with apprehension and he stared at Roy for a full minute before he lowered his gaze and began talking in a halting, desperate voice.

"I... I was so scared. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to end up like... like Jansen. I didn't want to be a burned up body somebody found in a fire."

Roy remembered that day long ago when Johnny had been the one to find the corpse, burned beyond recognition. The irony that Johnny himself would end up a victim struck Roy hard and he regarded his friend with profound respect. "I knew you were scared that night," he said in a voice made thick with emotion. "And you went anyway. You could have run, and you chose to stay... to go in my place."

Johnny's face flushed and he turned to stare across the room. "Don't make me out a hero, Roy," he said, his tone distraught. "The others... they were brave... they didn't let... they didn't..." His voice cracked and he couldn't continued.

How do I get through to you, Junior? What can I say to make you see?

"Johnny, I don't know what Reggie told you about those men... what they did or didn't do, but he still hurt them. He still..." He swallowed and remembered Dr. Evans statement about getting past the awkwardness of the word.

God, DeSoto, how do you expect Johnny to deal with this if you can't even say it?

"He still raped them... and he murdered them. Whether they were brave or not... they're still dead. They're dead, Johnny. And you're not. You chose life... and whatever you did or didn't do... whatever you let happen or was done to you... I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad that I'm talking to you here and not visiting your grave."

Roy fell silent, overcome by his own intensity. Johnny was quiet too, and Roy hoped he was really listening this time. After a long moment, Johnny resumed his story, his long fingers playing with the frayed end of the blanket. His voice was still soft, but more controlled.

"The first few times... I think he doped me up. I kinda remember, but not a lot. After that... I remember hating the game. But if I didn't play right... if I broke the rules... I'd get punished. I got really good at pretending and then... then I..." Johnny looked up and met Roy's eyes briefly, before lowering them again. "I don't know when I stopped pretending. I just knew getting punished hurt so bad and the game... the game didn't... not when I played nice."

Roy felt his stomach turn as Johnny's words conjured up images he didn't want to see. He fought to keep his feelings from showing on his face.

"I wish I could tell ya I understand what you're going through," he said regretfully. "But I'd be lying. Nobody knows what it was like for you. But you have to remember that Reggie's gone now. He's gone."

Johnny shook his head, his eyes once more fearful. "But he... he's not gone," he began haltingly. "He... he won't go away. And I'm afraid..." He looked away again. "I'm afraid there's a part of me that doesn't want him too."

How can that be, Johnny? Damn it, how can you feel that way?

But even as he struggled to comprehend what Johnny was saying, Roy knew it must have been agonizing for Johnny to admit that to him. He strove to find the right words to ease Johnny's fears, wishing he was better at this sort of thing. "Dr. Evans... the psychologist I told you about... he said that what you're going through is normal. All these feelings you're having..." He swallowed, reluctant to acknowledge to himself that Johnny might feel something other than hatred for his captor. "What you're feeling about Reggie... Johnny, it's all normal."

Johnny snorted his disbelief. "Normal? How can what I did... How can that be normal?"

"I don't know, but this doctor... he's worked a lot with... well, with people who've had bad things happen to them."

Johnny leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. "You really want me to go see him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Roy stated. "I think he can help you out... maybe help you get a little perspective."

Johnny gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, that's what I need... perspective." He sighed again, this time in resignation. "Okay... I'll think about it."

"Good," Roy smiled. "That's good."

That's great, Junior. You don't even know how great that is.

Johnny rubbed at his nose with the edge of the blanket. His shivering seemed to have stopped; at least Roy couldn't hear his teeth chattering anymore.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"You still wanna work with me? Even after... well, after all I told you?"

"You don't even have to ask, Johnny. I've been keeping your seat in the squad warm for you."

Johnny at last let a smile appear on his face. "Kinda hard to drive that way."

"Tell me about it," Roy chuckled. He saw Johnny yawn widely. "You think you can go back to sleep now?"

Johnny gave the bed a long look. "I guess so."

Roy got stiffly to his feet, reached down and helped Johnny get off the floor and onto the bed. "I'm gonna stay here tonight," he said as he straightened out Johnny's sheet and blanket. He nodded in the direction of Chris' bed. "So just call me if you need anything."

Johnny leaned over and noticed the empty twin across the room. His face grew troubled. "Did I wake up the whole family?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," Roy answered smoothly. "Jo's got 'em in with her. They're already asleep again."

"I'm sorry." Johnny lay down and pulled up the covers. "I don't mean to be such a..."

"You're not," Roy assured him as he climbed into his son's bed. "You're part of this family, and families take care of each other." He smiled wryly as his feet hit the foot board. Oh, well. It won't be for long. It's nearly morning now anyway.

"Hey, Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

* * *

Johnny lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet sound of Roy's even breathing. He was glad his partner had been able to go back to sleep. He felt bad that, once again, he'd disturbed the whole house.

As for himself, sleep had not returned. The horror of the nightmare had faded, but not the dream itself. He knew Reggie was right. He would always belong to the man who had kidnapped him. The things that had happened in the house, what they had done together, could never be erased. Even if he went to the doctor Roy wanted him to see, even if he was able to have the surgery on his leg, get back in shape and go to work again, he would always remember, and he would always be afraid.

Afraid that people knew... that they could see what his mind was seeing... that they knew how much he'd enjoyed what he'd done... how much he hated Reggie... how much he loved Reggie. He knew people would always look at him and wonder. There would always be that question. Why did he live when the others had died?

And then there was the house. The police were searching for the house. They would find it. Sooner or later, they would find it. And then what would he do? Everyone would know, everyone would see. It would be exactly as Reggie said it would. Johnny would be his forever. The game would never end.

Maybe I should have just stayed with Reggie. That way everybody I care about would still think I was dead and they would never know the truth.

Unable to just lie there, he sat up and swung his legs around to the edge of the bed. He rubbed at his knee. The ortho had given him some pain pills and some anti-inflammatories and it wasn't bothering him too much. He stood and tested his weight. It twinged, but he could bear it for now. He glanced over at Roy. He was still sleeping soundly. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he limped out into the hall. The night light from the bathroom cast a soft illumination and he could see each of the rooms.

Jenny's room would be empty. Roy had said both kids were in with Joanne. He glanced at the master bedroom. The door was half closed, and there was no sound coming from there. His gaze was drawn to the last room, the nursery, and he headed in that direction.

The door was open and he walked in, careful not to bump into anything that might wake the baby. He found himself standing by the side of the crib, staring down at his sleeping daughter. She was on her stomach, her thumb in her mouth. Almost involuntarily, he reached a hand to brush tenderly at the strands of dark hair that framed her face.

It was hard to believe that less than a week ago he didn't even know she existed and now, as he watched her, his heart ached to hold her - to have her reach for him rather than Roy when she was sad or hungry or excited. Of all the things he could hate Reggie for, this perhaps was the worst. That he hadn't known her, that he'd missed her birth, her first tooth, her first steps. He let his hand rest on her back and felt the slight rise and fall of her breathing, tears welling up in is eyes for how badly he wanted to be her father, to make a home for her, to have her call him Daddy and know what that meant.

But that would never happen. Not if Crockett found the house. Nobody would ever let him have his little girl if they saw what was in the house, if they found Reggie's souvenirs of the game. He couldn't let that happen. Somehow, he couldn't let that happen.

He ran his hand over her head once more, kissed his fingertips and then touched her cheek. Then he pushed himself away from the crib. As he turned, his eyes caught the helmet hanging from the wall - his helmet - his life. Reggie had taken so much from him, and for the first time, Johnny knew he wanted it back. A new resolve had begun to form in his heart and he had to act on it before he lost his nerve.

He made his way back to Chris' room and threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He slipped into his shoes, not bothering with socks, and once more found himself in the hall. He stood at the top of the stairs, praying he could make it down on his own without making enough noise to wake everyone up again.

He took the first step, wincing at the pain that shot out from his knee as his leg took his full weight. He grabbed the banister tightly with both hands and tried another one, hopping lightly on his good leg. Even though the steps were carpeted, he still cringed at the thud he made. He stopped, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest, but no one came. Letting out a relieved sigh, he continued on down the stairs that way, pausing after each one, fearing discovery each time.

After an eternity, he made it down the last one, and he paused to catch his breath. He was already sweating from both the exertion and the tension. After a moment, he hobbled into the kitchen and fumbled at the stove until he found the light in the hood. That gave him enough light that he could find the message board by the phone. Hanging there was what he was after, the keys to the DeSoto vehicles.

Roy's Porsche was out of the question. Driving was going to be tricky enough with his leg, he didn't want to even try a clutch. That left the pickup and the station wagon. He decided on the truck. He felt bad enough about what he was doing. He didn't want to leave Joanne without any way to get the kids where they were supposed to be. He only hoped Roy would understand and someday forgive him.

His only problem now was money. He wasn't concerned about feeding himself. Food wasn't his big worry right now, but he would have to get gas at some point. He didn't have a cent to his name and had no idea if Roy had kept his bank account open for him. It wouldn't matter anyway, he didn't have his checkbook and the bank wouldn't be open for quite some time. He wanted to be well on his way before then.

He stood for a moment, trying to think. And then he remembered. Joanne always kept some money in the cookie jar - her emergency stash that was usually raided for the ice cream man, girl scout cookies, impromptu pizza nights. Johnny walked over to the counter, feeling like scum that he was stealing from his best friends.

I'll pay them back. No matter what, I'll pay them back.

He reached inside the ceramic jar and found a few bills. Bringing them out, he saw a five and a few ones. Eight bucks. Not much, but maybe it would be enough to get him where he needed to go.

The kitchen was suddenly flooded with light and Johnny whirled, squinting in the brightness, to find Roy standing there fully dressed. There was a sad expression on his face.

"Were you even gonna leave a note?" he asked.

Johnny lowered his eyes, unable to face his friend. "I... I don't know... I..."

Roy came over and took the money from Johnny's hand and replaced it in the cookie jar. "You won't need that," he said lightly. He then held out his hand, palm up expectantly. "I'm driving."

Johnny stared at the hand in bewilderment. Then it finally dawned on him what Roy was asking. He tightened his grip on the keys and shook his head.

"No," he whispered desperately. "You can't come. I don't want you there."

Roy's face grew determined. "Look, we can do this two ways. I can wrestle them out of your hand, or you can just give them to me. Either way, I'm driving." A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "I'm the senior partner, remember?"

Johnny felt his resolve crumbling. It would be so much easier if Roy drove, it would make the trip much more bearable not to be alone. But he couldn't let Roy see. He lifted his eyes to meet his partner's.

"You can't come in," he stated stubbornly. "I'll let you drive, but you stay outside."

Roy's smile grew a little bigger. "I'll do whatever you want, Johnny, but I'm not letting you go anywhere alone."

Johnny sighed, torn between relief and apprehension. He reluctantly handed Roy the keys, then waited while his partner jotted a brief note to Joanne not to expect them for the rest of the day.

When he was done, Roy glanced over, his eyes questioning. "You know where we're going, right?"

Johnny nodded slowly. He didn't know exactly, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He only hoped that once they got in the general area, he would be able to find his way back to the house.

* * *

Thursday

"So how we gonna find this place?" Roy asked patiently. They were nearing Tulare and so far Johnny had yet to give any specific directions. Roy had felt all along that his partner might not know exactly which way to go. It hadn't been important until now, but they'd reached the point where then needed to make some decisions.

There was no answer and Roy glanced at the passenger side of his truck. Johnny was sitting with his head turned toward the window. There wouldn't be much for him to see out there. The sun hadn't come up yet and it was still gray outside. Roy might have thought his question had gone unheard, except for the way Johnny's hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap. He was obviously agitated.

"Johnny?" Roy prompted.

The younger man finally turned, his expression anxious. "I... I'm not sure... not exactly," he offered hesitantly.

Roy kept his eyes on the road, keeping his face impassive. "Maybe we can jog your memory a little," he suggested. "Can you remember anything at all... any kind of landmark... something that sticks in your mind?"

Johnny was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on his lap. Roy thought he was concentrating on trying to remember something, when he lifted his eyes with a look that the paramedic was certain was guilt.

"Cramer's," Johnny stated reluctantly. "The grocery store was Cramer's Foods." His dark eyes lowered again. "I, uh... I remember the name from the bags Reggie brought in."

Roy nodded, realizing at once that Johnny had lied to Crockett. "Well, it's a place to start," he said, keeping his tone even. Johnny didn't need anything else to feel bad about. Roy headed the truck onto the turnoff that would take them to the little town, a sudden idea forming in his head. They didn't need to wander around aimlessly. Not when they had a friend in this town. Knowing Johnny wouldn't be happy about enlisting Buck's help, Roy nevertheless, headed in the direction of the police officer's house.

Roy didn't think Johnny had been aware enough when they'd left this place to recognize where they were going, but at some point his partner caught on that Roy had a definite destination in mind. He sat up straight, glancing around, then letting his curious gaze settle on Roy.

"Where we goin'?" he asked suspiciously.

Roy didn't even bother trying to stall. Johnny would figure it out in a minute or two anyway.

"We're stopping by Buck's place," he replied evenly. "He may know where this store is."

Johnny's eyes grew wide in alarm. "No! Roy, we can't do that."

"Johnny, we need..."

"No!" Johnny protested stridently. "He'll wanna come with us! I don't want him there. I don't even want you there! Roy, please, don't!"

Roy tried his best to keep his eyes on the road and still make some kind of contact with his panicked friend.

"Johnny... listen to me." He waited until it seemed like his partner had calmed somewhat. "We need some help here. We're not gonna find the place by ourselves. Buck just might be able to tell us where the store is." Roy reached over and let his hand rest on the younger man's arm. "Buck's your friend, Johnny. He helped you before. I trust him."

Johnny's mouth opened once more, but no sound came out, and after a moment, he closed it again. Roy hated the surrender he saw in the younger man's demeanor, as Johnny leaned back against the seat and once more turned to stare out the window, but it couldn't be helped. He just prayed he was making the right decision.

* * *

Buck Starnes stared sleepily into his cup of coffee and wondered again at how awake his girls were this early in the morning. The older two were on Easter vacation, so they could have slept in, but all four were up and already in high spirits when Buck dragged himself out of bed. He didn't need to be in to work for another hour at least, so he was just sitting and enjoying his coffee when Teresa came into the kitchen and kissed his cheek.

"Morning, Miguel," she greeted. She was fresh from the shower and smelled like shampoo. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Nothin' much," he told her. "Maybe just some oatmeal."

Teresa made a face. His wife hated the hot cereal, insisting it tasted like paste, but she didn't say anything as she pulled out a pot and started measuring out the water. Buck knew her too well to accept her casual acquiescence.

"Just make it plain, querida," he warned with a laugh at her innocent expression. She'd tried many different additives in the past to "spice it up" as she called it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, but there was a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth, and he saw her put something back in the spice rack that he suspected was the chili powder.

He shook his head and chuckled as he took another sip of coffee.

"Poppi, somebody's here!" came a shout from the living room.

Buck sighed. No matter how much he scolded Rosa, she insisted on yelling at the top of her lungs instead of getting up and coming in to tell him things. Wondering who might be here this early, he got up and moved toward the door. He could see Rosa and Kara standing on the couch peering out the drapes.

"Girls, get down," he told them firmly. "That's rude."

Instead of obeying him, both children began jumping up and down excitedly. "It's Johnny, Poppi, It's Johnny! He's back to see us."

"His friend's with him too," Sylvia reported as she joined her sisters at the window.

The doorbell rang and the girls jumped down and raced toward the door. Buck managed to stop them before they opened it.

"Hey, now," he admonished with a frown. "Is this how you behave? You'll knock your friend down before he even gets inside. Go sit down and I'll get the door."

With disappointed faces, they trooped back into the living room, but they didn't sit down. Buck saw them standing in the doorway expectantly as he reached for the doorknob.

Wondering what the two paramedics would be doing here, Buck opened the door. Sure enough, both John and Roy were standing on his front porch.

"Well, hello," Buck greeted pleasantly.

"Sorry for bothering you so early." Roy offered a slight smile, both a greeting and an apology, but Buck noticed John didn't look happy to be here. He stood slightly behind his partner, his arms folded in front of him and his eyes downcast. His hair had been cut, though it was still somewhat shaggy, but other than that one change, John looked pretty much the same as when Buck had seen him last.

"Not a problem," the officer assured, then stepped aside and made a welcoming gesture. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Roy replied and took a step into the entryway. He paused and reached back to take hold of John's arm, making sure his partner followed him inside.

Buck frowned at that, wondering what brought them out here and why John so obviously didn't want to cooperate. He didn't have long to ponder it. As soon as the two men were inside the door was shut, the girls, unable to contain themselves any longer, burst from the living room.

"Johnny, Johnny!" they shouted eagerly, jumping up and down with excitement.

"Did you come to play wif us?" Kara asked, taking the man's hand and dragging him toward the living room.

"Girls," Buck admonished with a dark look, but Johnny shook his head.

"It's okay," he told the officer, a smile replacing the unhappy expression on his face. "I don't mind." He let himself be led away to the couch, where he was pounced upon by the girls.

"I'm sorry," Buck began to apologize to Roy, but the paramedic stopped him.

"Don't be," he said. "Johnny's happier in there than out her with us."

Buck regarded the man curiously. "So what brings you two out all this way and so early in the morning?"

Roy's face grew serious again. "We need your help... and your discretion."

Buck nodded solemnly and took Roy's arm. "Come on out to the patio. We can talk out there."

Roy nodded gratefully and followed him through the house. On their way, Buck paused at the kitchen.

"We have visitors, querida," he informed Teresa.

She turned to see Roy beside him and smiled widely. "Hola, Roy. This is a surprise. Is Juanito with you?"

"Hi, Teresa," Roy replied with a self-conscious smile. "Yeah, Johnny's with your girls."

"That's wonderful. You'll stay for breakfast."

"We don't mean to impose," Roy began, but Buck just laughed as he took the man's arm again.

"Are you kidding? This means now she won't have to make oatmeal. Believe me, that's no imposition."

Roy gave him an odd look, but didn't comment. They walked out to the patio and Buck slid the sliding door closed behind them. He turned to face his unexpected guest and gestured for him to take a seat.

"Now, what can I do for you?"

Roy didn't answer right away and Buck could tell the man was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to. The officer waited patiently.

"How's the search coming?" Roy finally asked. "For the house, I mean."

Buck shrugged. "It's gonna take some time. There's a lot of countryside we're dealing with." He eyed Roy speculatively, but the man didn't meet his gaze.

"Buck..." Roy hesitated, then just plunged ahead. "Buck, this has been really hard on Johnny. He's trying to deal with things, but..." Roy trailed off, then lifted his head and finally made eye contact. "He needs to get to the house. He won't tell me why, but there's something eatin' at him and somehow he feels that if he gets to the house, that will help."

Buck nodded slowly. "I can understand that and I wish I could tell you we'd found it, but..." The look on Roy's face stopped Buck before he could finish. "You know where it is," he stated evenly.

Roy shook his head slowly. "Not exactly, but Johnny... well, he didn't tell Crockett everything." He paused again and took a deep breath before he continued. Buck could tell this was hard on the man. "I want to make a deal with you. Johnny knows a landmark that might help you narrow down your search. Help us pinpoint it and give us a head start. Let us get there first... let Johnny do what he needs to do. Then I swear, I'll tell you where this house from hell is located. You can end this manhunt and wrap this damn case up and kiss it goodbye."

Buck sat staring at the man across from him. What they were asking him to do technically broke all the rules, but it wasn't like there was a big huge prosecution case they'd be interfering with. The damn perp was dead... just laying around rotting, waiting for them to find him and put him in the ground. There wasn't anything they could find at the place that could help the other victims. They too were dead... dead and buried. The only real reason for finding the place was to wrap up loose ends.

And then there was John. He was the only one left alive out of this nightmare, and he was having to deal with all the repercussions of that psycho's perversions. What would it hurt to help the man out a little?

Buck chewed on his lower lip. "You don't know what John wants to do out there?"

Roy shook his head ruefully. "He won't tell me. But I really believe that it's vital to his full recovery for him to get out there before anybody else. I wouldn't ask you to do this if there was any other way."

Buck held up his hand to let Roy know he didn't have to explain further. He supposed he'd already decided to go along with them. He'd gone out on a limb for John once, he didn't see any harm in doing it again.

"Okay. I'll help you if I can, but you need to know a couple of things." He leaned forward to stress the importance of his words. "First, if anybody gets wind you were out there, I flat out deny we ever had this conversation."

Roy nodded grimly.

"Second, you don't touch anything without some kind of protection. We can assume John's prints are already there, but it would be kinda hard to explain how yours got there."

A grim smile lifted the corner's of the paramedic's mouth. "I don't think we have to worry about that. Johnny's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me inside."

Buck shook his had. "Can't say that I blame him. Now, what's this landmark he remembers?"