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.