A Mile in My Wings

Roy DeSoto sat alone in a waiting room, his back to the wall, his partner's blood on his hands and on his shirt. He stared straight ahead with haunted eyes, awaiting news with dread and not daring to hope.

Octavia knelt behind him and circled her arms around his chest. "Everything's going to be all right," she whispered in his ear. "You're scared, I know. But Johnny's strong and tougher than he seems. It looked worse than it was and you did everything right. Everything's going to be okay."

He shivered, cold with shock and fear, and she wrapped him in her wings and held him close. "Johnny's going to be okay," she said again, "isn't he?"

Treeva, who, like Octavia, was both there and not there, spread her own wings. She was dark where Octavia was fair and unlike Octavia's dove wings, her's were the wings of an eagle. "Yes, of course. He's going to be fine."

"Are you sure?" Octavia pressed. "Are you positive?"

"Yes, I'm certain. I'm holding his heart in the palm of my hand."

* * * *

Later, when Johnny was resting comfortably and Roy was home in the arms of his wife, Treeva and Octavia met in a place that was not anywhere and at a time that was not anywhen.

"I can't believe you let Johnny get hurt *again*!" Octavia ranted.

"I didn't *let* him get hurt," Treeva said defensively. "It just happened. Things happen sometimes."

"They happen to Johnny an awful lot! I just wish you'd be more careful. You know, when Johnny gets hurt, my Roy suffers too!"

"Oooh, poor baby," Treeva said sarcastically. "Did he break his widdle fingernail taking care of Johnny after Johnny fell through the burning floor?"

"I'm serious!" Octavia said, temper flaring. "He hurts! You don't know how bad he hurts!"

"You don't even know what hurt is," Treeva said scornfully. "Your precious Roy almost never gets hurt."

"That's because I take care of him!"

"You coddle him, you mean. Wrap him up in cotton wool and don't ever let anything dangerous come near him."

"Roy faces plenty of danger. Especially when he's trying to protect Johnny. Anyway, I'm talking about the pains of the spirit! The deeper joys and sorrows of the heart."

"Whatever!"

"Don't 'whatever' me!" Octavia snarled.

"Listen," Treeva said, "don't try to tell me how to take care of my human, you meddling old woman!"

"Well, somebody needs to, you airheaded little floozie!"

"Nag!"

"Cow!"

"Ha!," Treeva said, spreading her wings and rising above Octavia's head. "Cows can't fly!"

"You know what? You're right. But I bet if you were their guardian angel, they'd TRY!"

Treeva slapped Octavia. Octavia slapped her back. There was a peal of thunder and suddenly the two found themselves standing side by side before a white-bearded old man.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies." He shook his head and sighed. "How many times must I remind you that bitch-slapping is not angelic behaviour?"

"She hit me first," Octavia said.

"She hit me harder," Treeva put in.

"I don't care! Angels aren't supposed to hit each other all ALL!"

The girls sighed and spoke in unison. "Sorry, St. Peter."

"Your humans are the best of friends and yet it seems the two of you can't get along! Do you want to tell me what you're fighting about this time?"

"She's trying to tell me how to take care of my human," Treeva complained.

"She let Johnny get hurt *again*!" Octavia put in.

"I didn't *let* him get hurt! He thought there was a victim across a burning room. He was trying to get to them."

"If you'd just gotten him to pause and test the floor first, he'd have realized it was unstable."

"He was trying to save a life!"

"By falling through a burning floor?"

"I took care of it! I strengthened his helmet and cushioned his fall. He's going to be fine. Besides, it's none of your business how I take care of my human!"

"It is when it affects my human!"

"Well, then, maybe we should stop them from being friends, if Johnny's friendship is too hard on poor Roy!" Treeva said.

Octavia just stared at her, shocked. "You can't stop a friendship!" she said. "Friendships are a meeting of the soul. They're a blessing and a sacrament. You don't understand, do you?" She turned to St. Peter. "She doesn't understand at all!"

"I don't understand?" Treeva shot back. "I don't understand? You're the one who doesn't understand! You can't imagine what it's like trying to take care of an adventurous free spirit like Johnny Gage!" She snorted. "Just try flying a mile in my wings, sister!"

"What an interesting idea," St. Peter said.

The girls froze.

"Idea?" Octavia asked worriedly.

"Interesting?" Treeva echoed.

"Yes, a very interesting idea. Your humans are friends, and unusually close friends at that. It will do you each good to understand one another's charges better, and maybe help me spend less time playing referee. I'm going to have you trade humans for a while."

"But you can't give her my Roy!" Octavia cried. "She'll break him!"

"Oh, I would not," Treeva said. "But, but, Johnny's hurt right now. He needs me! I know how to make him get better."

"I'm not going to make you trade when one of them is sick or when they're in any particular trouble, but soon they'll both be healthy and life will return to normal. When that happens, I shall signal for you to begin and for a period of three human days you will trade humans. Trust me, ladies. Fly a mile in one another's wings and let's see what happens."

* * *

On the morning of the third shift after he'd returned from his injury, Johnny Gage awoke before the tones sounded and lay in bed, staring at the familiar firehouse ceiling. He glanced over at his partner, still seeming asleep in the bed next to his.

"Hey!" he whispered. "Hey! Pssst! Roy! You awake yet?"

Roy yawned and stretched. "Am now," he muttered sleepily. "Wh'up?"

"Man, I just had the wildest dream! I dreamed there was this beautiful woman. She was just, man, just absolutely gorgeous. An Indian, you know? With long, black hair and dark eyes and she had an eagle's wings on her back. And she came up to me and looked me in the eye and she said, 'Babe, the next three days are gonna be a drag. Just hang in there and we'll have fun later.'"

"That's weird," Roy yawned. "I just had a dream about a beautiful woman too."

"The kind of dream you don't want your wife to find out about?" Johnny teased.

"No, it was innocent. I think she was an angel."

"Did she have black eyes and long black hair?"

"No, she had blonde hair, curly, almost to her knees, and beautiful blue eyes and she had wings too, but they were white like a dove. And she came up to me and gazed adoringly into my eyes and she said," he paused.

"Said what?" Johnny prompted.

"She said, 'just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

* * * *

Dr. Kelly Brackett, answering a page to emergency, found head nurse Dixie McCall leaning one hip against the wall near the nurses' station. Her ankles were crossed, her arms were crossed, her eyes were narrowed and her lips drawn into a straight line.

"Hey, Dix. What's up?"

"You have an off-duty paramedic in three."

"Oh, yeah?" He glanced at the closed door of the treatment room, concerned. "What happened?"

"Well," she shifted her weight and tipped her head, "it seems he got this bright idea that putting wheels on a stokes basket and using it as a toboggan would be faster in rescues on gentle to moderate hillsides than simply climbing down attached to ropes, the old fashioned way. So he got hold of an old, busted stokes that had been taken out of service, put lawnmower wheels on it and gave it a try. His partner just brought him in a few minutes ago. Wanna guess who it is?"

Brackett's own eyes narrowed in annoyance. "John Gage," he said, biting the words off. He strode to the treatment room and pushed the door open, but the lecture he was preparing died on his lips and his face went blank with shock. "Roy?" He turned back to the nurse. "Dix, Roy's hurt! What happened to Roy?"

She came right up beside him, looked up into his face and gave him a tight little smile. "I just told you.

He looked again at the blond paramedic, sitting battered and sheepish on the examining table. "That was ROY? Get X-ray down here. I want a full skull series. We'll look for an old injury. Or a tumor. Or something."

* * * *
Joanne DeSoto was pacing a path along the tiled hospital hallway from the women's restroom to the linen closet. John Gage paced a parallel path from the linen closet to the women's restroom, so that they passed each other once per lap in front of the water cooler.

"Just let me get this straight," Joanne said. "Roy came up with this stupid idea?"

"No," Johnny said honestly. "No, no. It was my idea."

"Aha!"

"I thought of it while we were on a rescue on a hillside yesterday afternoon. And I told Roy all about it and he said," Johnny paused speaking, though not pacing, as he tried to work out exactly what had happened. "He said it was a dumb idea. And I thought he was wrong. I mean, I, seriously, I just, I thought he was wrong. But then, this morning, all of a sudden I realized that Roy was right."

"He was right?"

"He was right! Absolutely he was right! It was just, it was just a dumb idea. It couldn't possibly work. And it was far too dangerous."

"And you told him that?"

"I told him that! But for some reason, all of a sudden this morning, HE decided that I was right.

"So you got this old stokes and put lawnmower wheels on it?"

"He did it. Roy did that. I just went along to try to talk him out of it."

"But he wouldn't listen to you."

"Would NOT listen to reason!" Johnny was in full rant mode, waving his arms wildly as he paced. Joanne ducked under without even noticing as they passed, too intent on puzzling out what had happened to her husband.

"So you, John Gage . . ."

"Yes."

"John *Roderick* Gage?"

"Yeah! Me!"

"You told Roy that something was a bad idea?"

"I did! I said it's not safe! I said, Roy, you have got to think ahead and consider the possible consequences of your actions!"

"And Roy . . ."

"Yes."

"Roy DeSoto?"

"Yes!"

"My HUSBAND, Roy DeSoto? Big, blond guy? Blue eyes? Dimple on his chin? THAT Roy DeSoto?"

"Would not listen! I tried to talk sense into him and he just simply would not listen!"

"And now he's in there hurt --"

"YES!"

"And you're out here pacing the floor worrying about him?"

"Oh, man! I am. I just cannot believe this happened like this!"

Joanne stepped out of her own path and into Johnny's so that he pulled up short in front of her. She put one finger in the middle of his chest, looked up at him and said, "there is something very weird going on here!"

* * * *
Riding home in Joanne's station wagon, scraped and bruised but largely unhurt, Roy glanced over at his wife and wondered when it would be safe to talk to her again. She hadn't said two words to him since she'd picked him up at the hospital and now she was driving in a furious silence.

He sighed and shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, and Joanne finally spoke.

"I think you need your head examined!"

"Dr. Brackett did that. He didn't find anything." He glanced over at her and caught her expression. "Didn't find anything wrong," he amended quickly.

"Oh, I think you had it right the first time!"

* * * *

"You broke him!" Octavia wailed. "Less than twelve hours and you BROKE him already!"

"Oh, please!" Treeva rolled her eyes. "I didn't break him. I just . . . dinged him a little."

"Dinged him?! DINGED him? He's not some old Model-T, you know!"

Treeva gave a sudden, high-pitched giggle. "I know! He's a DeSoto! Hah!" She caught Octavia's entirely unamused expression and swallowed the laughter. "Seriously! He's not really hurt at all. Besides, he wanted to do it. You know I couldn't have made him if he didn't really want to. You never let the poor guy have any fun."

"He's a husband and father," Octavia protested. "He has good friends, a job that he loves, the work is rewarding, he's liked and respected by almost everyone who knows him. There's a lot of joy in Roy's life!"

"Yeah," Treeva said, "but that's not *fun*!"

The two angels fell silent for a few seconds, but Octavia continued to fret and fidget. "What's he doing now?" she asked finally, her voice plaintive. "Can I see him?"

"Sure, I guess," Treeva agreed. "He's sweet talking Joanne." She offered Octavia her hand and the DeSoto's living room grew around them.

Joanne DeSoto sat on the sofa, arms crossed, resolutely not looking at her husband. Roy was sitting beside her, as close as he could get, with his arms around her unyeilding shoulders.

"You're not mad," he coaxed.

"I'm mad," she countered.

"But you're not *really* mad."

"I'm really mad."

"But you're gonna forgive me, right? Right, baby?" He spoke softly, persuasively, punctuating his questions with kisses.

Joanne turned her head further away. "Now, I'm not too sure of that! That was one of my favorite people you took out and threw down that hill today. You know, I really love that Roy DeSoto guy and I just don't appreciate you being so careless with him!"

"Aw, baby. I'm okay. I just wanted an excuse to play doctor with you."

"You already played doctor without me."

He grinned wickedly and waggled his eyebrows at her. "But I saved my very best bumps for you!"

At that she started laughing and turned into his embrace. "Roy DeSoto! That line was absolutely horrible!"

"I've got better ones," he promised. "Come upstairs and I'll show you some of them."

She shook her head, exasperated and spent the next several minutes kissing him back. When they broke apart she stroked the side of his face, her voice tender. "I just don't want to see you get hurt," she said. "Honestly! Whatever made you pull such a stunt?"

"I don't know. Temporary insanity, I guess. I'm all right. Promise, I am. But . . . if I show you where it still hurts, will you kiss it and make it better?"

Joanne laughed again at his good-natured leer. "I might," she conceded gently. Kissing once more, arms intertwined, the moved towards the stairs.

"I've got to hand it to him," Treeva admitted reluctantly, "he's pretty smooth."

"That's my boy!" Octavia grinned.

"You know," Treeva mused, "it'd be nice if he could give Johnny a few pointers now and then. Not that Johnny isn't smooth too!" she added hastily. "It's just, well, he's really good at picking girls up, he just can't seem to hold onto any of them."

"Well," Octavia said, "Roy would be glad to give him some advice if he thought that Johnny was the least bit interested in it. All Johnny does is talk about how old and boring he thinks Roy is, and how he's 'got no charisma' and 'chicks would never dig him' and all!"

"But he doesn't mean that! That's just Johnny being Johnny. Surely Roy knows he's just teasing!"

"We-ell, Roy suspects he's just teasing. But he doesn't really know. Not for certain."

"Don't be silly! Johnny thinks the world of Roy!"

"Yeah," Octavia said thoughtfully. "Yeah, he does. I was really surprised, looking into Johnny's heart, seeing just how much he cares for Roy. More like they're brothers than just a couple of guys who work together."

"Yes! Exactly! That's just how Johnny feels about it. And, you know, I was kind of surprised myself, seeing how much Roy cares about Johnny. It's like he's family. If Johnny's in danger, Roy will run in after him without even thinking about it, because the prospect of losing him is just unthinkable!"

The two angels sat side by side on Roy and Joanne's deserted couch, lost in a rare moment of agreement.

"You know," Treeva said, "it's too bad they never just come right out and say how they feel! I think it'd mean a lot to Johnny to hear how much his partner cares about him."

"Yeah! And I think it'd mean a lot to Roy, too, to know what Johnny really thinks."

"If they were women," Treeva observed, "they'd just sit down over tea and cookies and have a nice little heart-to-heart chat. Share their feelings, hug each other, maybe have a good cry. And everything would be wonderful!"

"Yeah," Octavia sighed, "but men don't do that. It is a shame that guys never share their feelings!"

"Yeah, a shame. It really is."

"It is a shame."

"It really is . . . ."

* * * *
The day after his mishap, Roy answered his door and found John Gage standing there with an aluminum foil-wrapped bundle.

"Hey, Junior! Come on in! I was just wishing for some company."

"Are you all alone?"

"Yeah, Jo took the kids shopping for school clothes." Johnny came in and Roy closed the door behind him and followed him down the hall. "Whatcha got there?"

"Where? Oh! Here!" He looked at his bundle, then turned and offered it to his partner. "I brought you some cookies. It was the strangest thing! I just had this sudden, overpowering urge to bake."

"Yeah? Well . . . that's cool. What kind are they?"

"You know, I don't know. There were two recipes on the back of the bag of chocolate chips and I sorta kept losing track of which one I was using."

"Oh, well. I'm sure they'll taste great! Hey, you know what? I was just making a pot of tea. Let me grab it and a couple of cups and we can go sit out on the patio where we can talk."

"Sounds great!"

Roy went into the kitchen and fixed a tea tray. As an afterthought, he snagged a box of tissues off the counter, thinking to use them in lieu of napkins, and led the way outside.

The DeSoto's patio was pleasant, with sun-dappled shade, flowers growing on the perimeter and a light breeze blowing in off the distant Pacific. The two men spent a few minutes pouring tea.

"Cream?" Roy offered. "Sugar? Lemon?"

"Sure. Thanks. Hey, can I offer you a cookie?"

"Yeah, sounds great! Here, I brought a plate to put them on."

Johnny unwrapped the cookies and arranged them on the flowered china plate Roy had brought out. They were misshapen lumps, black on the bottom, the dough only slightly lighter than the chocolate chips. They each took one and for several seconds sat in silence wearing identical expressions. Each man had his mouth open and one eye squinted closed as he tried in vain to gnaw off a hunk of cookie. Johnny gave up first.

"Sorry, Pally. Guess maybe I over baked them a little."

"Aw, heck. That's okay. Anyway, it's the thought that counts, right? And, and I just can't tell you how much it means to me that you'd think enough of me to go to the trouble of baking me cookies."

"Well, hey! You're my partner. You're my pal! You know, when I saw you hit that first tree yesterday, man! I thought my heart was just gonna stop right then and there!"

"Tell me about it! Now you know how I feel, all the times I've had to see you get hurt. I just couldn't bear to lose you, Junior! You're family. You're like a part of me."

"And you're like a part of me, Pally. I know sometimes it might not seem like it. I say mean things, or kind of put you down. But I hope you know, I'm only teasing. The truth is, I think the world of you. You're like a brother to me!"

"And you're like a brother to me!"

"You're my best friend!"

"And you're my best friend!"

They leaned across the table to catch one another in a fierce hug. They were both sniffling and when they sat back Roy grabbed a tissue and offered the box to Johnny, who took one as well. For several seconds they sat there snuffling in companionable silence. It was Roy who finally broke it.

"Junior?"

"Yeah, Pally?"

"Does any of this seem, I don't know, strange to you?"

"Any of what?"

"Oh, you know. The tea and cookies and crying and all."

"You know," Johnny said, "now that you mention it, YEAH!"

Suddenly self-conscious, they dropped the tissues and slid their chairs a few inches farther apart. After a couple of minutes Roy suddenly spoke again.

"Y'wanna go inside and watch the game?"

"Eh? What game?"

"Any game."

"Yeah! Sounds great to me!"

They jumped up and tossed all the tea stuff back on the tray. "Should I save these cookies?" Roy asked.

"What for?"

"Charcoal?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. Hey! You wanna order a pizza?"

"Yeah! That sounds great! Listen, you go on in and find us a game to watch and I'll grab a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and see what kind of pizza coupons we've got. Is that a plan?"

"That's a great plan! Man! This is gonna be a great afternoon!"

Roy picked up the tea tray and they turned to go, but hesitated. Johnny reached out one hand and clasped his friend's shoulder. Roy juggled the tray so he could reach over and clasp Johnny's shoulder as well. For several seconds they just looked at one another, reaching a silent agreement. They weren't going to deny any of the things they'd said. They just weren't going to talk about it. Then they slapped one another on the back and, grinning, headed for the house.

* * * *
Treeva and Octavia sat side by side on a cloud, looking down at the dainty tips of their shoes. St. Peter loomed over them.

He was really good at looming.

"Free will," he thundered. "Does that ring a bell? I know we covered it in Basic Angelling 101."

"But we didn't make them say anything that isn't in their hearts," Octavia protested.

"That isn't the point! The point is that they get to CHOOSE what to say or not say. Do you understand me, ladies? They are not Barbie dolls! You cannot play teaparty with them!"

The angels sighed and spoke in unison. "Yes, St. Peter. Sorry, St. Peter."

* * * *

"Don't cut yourself!"

"I'm not gonna cut myself! I do know how to slice a tomato, you know!"

At twelve noon on the third and last day of the trade Roy and Johnny were alone in the firehouse kitchen. After being on the go all morning, they'd finally gotten back to find the engine out on a trash fire. Roy was busy fixing a quick lunch and Johnny was sitting at the table watching him with an intensity bordering on paranoia.

"I got an idea. Hold the tomato with a fork. That way your fingers won't be in the way."

"I got an idea. Go play on the hose rack. All I'm doing is making BLTs. I think I can be trusted to make BLTs without landing in the ER. What is with you today, anyway?"

Johnny sat back and sighed. "Man, I don't know! I just got this little voice in my head telling me I need to keep a close eye on you so you don't get hurt."

"Yeah?" Roy finished slicing the tomatoes, put them all in a Tupperware bowl and stuck them in the refrigerator next to the lettuce he'd torn up. "Well I've got a little voice in my head telling me the little voice in your head is nuts. Now will you stop worrying?"

"Yeah, okay." Johnny fidgeted for a couple of seconds. "Are you going to fry that bacon?"

"Unless you want to eat it raw, yeah."

"Well, just be careful! Hot bacon grease can burn you really bad, you know."

* * * *

At 11:36 PM, with only twenty-four minutes to go in the trade, the angels were beginning to relax when the tones sounded, calling out the station on a structure fire. Octavia rode on the back of the squad, behind John Gage. Treeva clung to the running board outside Roy's door. Their hair flowed behind them in the slipstream as the wind ran through the feathers of their wings and the flashing lights danced over their faces.

The building was an old hotel, fully involved, and Roy and Johnny donned their gear and went inside in search of victims. It was 11:55 when they headed out again, side by side, Johnny with an old woman over his shoulder. The angels flew beside them, lending them strength and speed. They were within sight of the door when a heavy beam supporting the entryway ceiling shifted and tumbled towards them. Roy stopped suddenly, put up his hands and caught the falling timber, giving his partner the time to get himself and the victim free.

Treeva grabbed the end of the heavy beam, adding her strength to his, while Octavia pushed Johnny to the open doorway and the safety that lay beyond. Once outside, they both turned to look back in horror. Under his mask, Roy's face was twisted with the effort of holding the timber. Treeva was doing everything she could to help, but gravity is an elemental force and not even angels can stave it off forever. Roy's knees buckled. He collapsed beneath the heavy beam and the ceiling above it came down, hiding him. Treeva stood in the rubble and stared at Octavia with shocked eyes.

"I didn't make him do that! I swear I didn't! I didn't even know he was going to. I was just trying to get him to run faster. Octavia, what happened?"

"He was acting out his own true nature," Octavia said. "I couldn't have stopped him either."

The clock struck twelve and they traded spirits. Octavia cradled Roy's fragile, fading life force as Treeva cried out aloud at the anguish in Johnny Gage's soul. "Oh, Octavia! Johnny's hurt too! He's never hurt this bad before, no matter how he's been injured. What can I do?"

"Wrap him in your wings and hold him. I'll do everything I can."

* * * *

John Gage sat alone in a waiting room at Rampart, his partner's blood on his hands and on his shirt. He stared straight ahead with haunted eyes, awaiting news with dread and not daring to hope.

Treeva knelt behind him and circled her arms around his chest. "Everything's going to be all right," she whispered in his ear. "You're scared, I know. But Roy's strong and tougher than he seems. It looked worse than it was and you did everything right. Everything's going to be okay."

He shivered, cold with shock and fear, and she wrapped him in her wings and held him close. "Roy's going to be okay," she said again, "isn't he?"

Octavia spread her own wings. "Yes, he's going to be fine."

"Are you sure?" Treeva pressed. "Are you positive?"

"Yes, I'm certain. I'm holding his heart in the palm of my hand."

The End

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