Non-disclosure

She would never know their thoughts by the lack of expression on their faces. They wore their emotions like a still portrait that had been retouched, wiped clean of any hint to their inner thought. The emotion was neatly erased. And so was the pain. She knew they were not heartless and she surmised that the opposite was true. But their persistent veil of blunted affect made her wonder what thoughts might lie beneath their skillfully constructed camouflage. She talked about it once before with the doctors, but they brushed off the notion, believing that after a year of service the medics were virtually unaffected, since tragedy had, for them, become an everyday event.

But she knew better.

She knew them long enough and studied their faces, their posture, and their motions, as the news was broken. She was sure the doctors were wrong. She could tell the paramedics were greatly unsettled, and thought that each time something turned out badly, they lost a little more of their souls. She could see it. Only she knew. Only they knew. The doctors didn't. Or maybe, they just didn't want to.

She watched them many times, ready for the familiar scene. She could predict it. They would wait for the ER Doc, silently watching him walk down the corridor. She could see them tensing, preparing, for what they already knew to be acknowledged. When the news was broken, it was always the same, or close to it. Roy, the older partner, would stare momentarily at the physician, shift his feet in discomfort, and then nod slowly. His eyes would dart to Johnny's still form. And Gage. He would be stock-still, both hands on his hips, his game face securely in place before the physician even reached him. His expression was always the same. His eyes, dark and sharp, were slightly squinted, as if he were throwing a warning for an attacker to keep his distance. The stoic set of his face matched his firmly set jaw. His mouth formed a thin line. When the news was broken, his expression would remain unchanged. Roy would be staring at him for a cue, almost as if he needed to draw from his partner's stoic reserve, until Gage smoothly tipped his head toward the exit, as if he were suddenly releasing them both from a threatening emotional trap, successfully effecting their clean escape. She watched them leave. She could sense the sorrow in their movement. They knew it was there, but thought it was a secret between partners. But she did know. Or thought she did. And she grieved for them each time.

*****

She wasn't sure what made her mind wander to that day as she stood staring blankly at John Gage's puzzled expression. "Dix?" he paused, "could you sign for the supplies?" She started, brought back into the moment by his simple question coupled with a light touch of his hand on her arm. His face wore a concerned cast that suddenly became tinged with sadness as he read her thoughts. His gaze fell quickly to the floor and he sighed lightly. After a moment, he looked up again, his eyes locking hers. She could sense his disquieting thoughts and she abruptly diverted her eyes in an attempt to protect them both from the lingering emotions. Only now, weeks after the incident, did she understand just how much each event chipped away at the men. Until then, she hadn't understood that the pain was doubled, or tripled, when put into the context of a rescue. In the ER, the patients were delivered by the medics neatly packaged, the moments of danger, fear, and mayhem seemingly forgotten. She never considered what preceded their calm entrance to the hospital. Not once. But now, as the physicians' footfalls drew closer and they prepared for the difficult news, neither one of them could help but remember the events of that day so many weeks ago.

*****

It was unseasonably cool weather for LA this time of year, and John Gage pulled an old fleece jacket out of the back of his closet. He forgot it there after the last ski season, but was glad he happened upon it this afternoon. He headed for his truck, grabbing his newly dry cleaned uniform on the way. He stopped abruptly when he reached for his boots. Damn, these are a mess, he thought, grasping a package of black polish. Only then did he scoop up the dirty boots, thick with dried clay and muck, compliments of a muddy rescue in the rain on the last shift. He involuntarily shivered. Even now, he felt as if he couldn't get warm.

He made it to the station in time to dress, clean up his boots, and check the duty chart before roll call. He was actually on time. Cap would be a happy man today.

It was a quiet afternoon, almost foreboding the tragedy that lay in waiting for the crew. When the call came in shortly before eight that night, the men were well rested and fed, better prepared than most for anything that might challenge them.

"Station 51, Station 16, structure fire with injuries, 1824 Prentice Way, one-eight-two-four Prentice Way, cross street, Harrison. Time out, 19:47."

The men jumped up at the sound of the alarm. Roy grabbed his wayward boots and John exchanged his light fleece jacket for his heavy turnout gear.

Station 51 arrived within two minutes.

It was seven minutes too late.

As the engine glided to a stop outside the three-story house, the Captain smoothly stepped off the truck, already directing the crew busily removing lines from the back. The paramedics were pulling on their gear as they walked quickly towards the Captain. John pulled his mask forward, snapped his air tank's harness across his chest and rechecked his regulator. He looked up expectantly and waited for his Captain to finish relating directions over his HT. Captain Stanley looked at John and pointed to the building.

"I don't think we're going to find anyone at this point, John. You and Roy sweep the first floor and come out. Hopefully I'll have more information then. Don't go any further. It's none too stable." John turned immediately, signaling to his partner as he placed his mask over his face and tightened his helmet. The Captain yelled toward the retreating man, "First floor only, Pal!" Johnny raised his hand in acknowledgment without turning around. He heard him the first time.

The sound was deafening as Roy and John entered the house. The heat from the flames caused John to start sweating after only seconds in the room. The men pushed on despite the temperature, and Johnny kept a wary eye to the ceiling, fearing a collapse of the upper floors would be imminent. The search of the first floor was complete within minutes, and Roy tugged at John's arm as he exited the last room. Johnny could tell Roy was somewhat anxious to leave, and John couldn't blame him. The heat was intense, and the flames seemed to be everywhere. It was quickly becoming the proverbial inferno.

As they exited the front door into the chilled air, vapor rose from their cooling coats as the men removed their masks and helmets. John walked directly to Hank. "Nothing on one, Cap. It's hotter than heck, man."

That is when the screaming started. It was long and loud and painful, startling both John and the Captain. The woman ran haphazardly over to Johnny, raking and pulling at his arm, screaming hysterically. John grabbed her hands, noting a man with two children running up behind her.

"Ma'am, please, what is it? Calm down, so I can understand, please, I can help you!" But John Gage already knew what was wrong. He involuntarily stole a glimpse of the failing structure, hoping it looked better than the last time he saw it a few seconds before. It wasn't. He began to pull his gear back on as the woman, still holding his left arm, looked into his eyes. "Katerina, she's three. Oh my God! My baby! Please, please get her, please!" She must have read something in his face at that moment. Some kind of doubt or hesitation, because she abruptly turned and started to run headlong towards the burning house.

John took off after her, dragging her to a stop with the help of the Captain. Hank asked her, "Where was she last? Where was she?" His voice was firm, but tinged with an uncharacteristic urgency.

The woman answered, her voice edged with anxiety, "She was on the second floor, her bedroom, second room on the left!"

Johnny looked to his Captain and proceeded to secure his mask, but as his Captain noted, he hesitated to cinch up his helmet. The Captain understood. Gage knew the building was treacherous, but couldn't bear to give up on the child. The medic was waiting for the Captain's decision. It was uncharacteristic of Gage to pause, causing Hank to hesitate imperceptibly. The woman began crying again, dropping to the ground in disbelief. Johnny looked down to her form and up to his Captain's. "I'll try," he said quietly, all the time thinking he must be suicidal.

Hank nodded.

Roy was furious. "What? You can't let him back in there! It's gonna go any second. I understand," he hissed quietly, looking at the family, "more than anyone, but you can't let Johnny go. We all know it's too far gone! And he may very well not get out," this was directed at his captain. Roy held Johnny by the arm now, and looked him squarely in the eye. "And you know I'm right."

Johnny nodded. He paused as he looked at his Captain and then deliberately cinched the strap of his helmet, confirming of his decision. His eyes slid to meet Roy's momentarily. He abruptly turned and ran quickly towards the burning building.

Roy was frozen in place. He could only stand and stare after his friend as he listened to the Captain's rapid-fire instructions over the HT. The Captain gave Gage four minutes to complete the recovery and get to the window on the East side. Roy and John both knew he didn't have four minutes. Johnny confirmed that when he locked eyes with Roy before reentering the house. Roy sensed only one thing. He saw the only emotion that could possibly have alarmed him beyond reason. It wasn't doubt that he saw. It wasn't sorrow for the inevitable. Not at all. John Gage's eyes held an emotion that Roy had never seen there before.

Fear.

And it scared the hell out of him.

*****

She would never know what made her change the frequency of the fire radio that day. She never listened to anything but the main dispatch frequency in all the years she worked at the hospital. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps boredom, or maybe it was the unusual timbre of the voices playing over the radio on that day.

"Engine 51, HT 51, you have three minutes." She could hear Hank Stanley's voice, clear and calm, but with a slight edge to it that she couldn't place. There was no verbal response from whomever he was calling; only a short burst of static followed by silence. She suddenly had the urge to watch the clock.

"Engine 51, HT 51, two minutes, Gage." His voice was more urgent now, and it made her nervous. She watched the sweep of the second hand, which seemed to move slower as the silence dragged on. At one and one half minutes left, she heard a second voice. If she hadn't known it was Johnny the Captain was calling to, she might not have recognized the sound the medic's voice.

"I got her, Cap. Doesn't look good." He coughed through the transmission. His voice troubled her greatly. Gone was the usual sharp, business-like timbre, replaced with an anxious tone marked by harsh coughing. She never heard anything like it from John, not once in all of the difficult rescues he worked on throughout the past year. A chill came over her as he continued seconds later. "Can't get to the window. I'm caught in a circle, Cap, near the North stairs. They're engulfed too. Need water, I need help." He spit out the last words breathlessly, his speech urgent, replete with anxiety. She swore her heart stopped at his last words, 'I need help'. She never heard the phrase uttered in this context from John Gage. He was the last person to ask for help. For a patient, yes. But never for himself, never. At that moment, she was sure he was going to die and she knew he thought so too. And the last thing she wanted was to hear it happen. She just couldn't move away and leave him alone.

"John, you're sure you're on the North side?" Captain Stanley was clearly anxious.

"No."

His firm answer caused her to catch her breath. He was lost in the flames. Her eyes immediately began to fill as she begged her body to maintain control over her growing anguish. Her eyes widened in an effort to stave off the forming tears. I will not break down, she thought, I will not. She stared pointedly at the radio as if an unspoken standoff existed: his safety versus the unfolding tragedy. She shoved her hands into her pockets in an attempt to stem their course shaking.

Joe Early looked startled as he noticed her distressed expression while exiting a nearby treatment room. He motioned to the other Doctor and the pair quickly approached the base station to determine what was upsetting the ordinarily imperturbable nurse.

She looked up at their questioning faces and answered in a broken voice, hushed with despair. "Johnny's trapped in a fire. I think he's going to die." She shocked them into silence. Good, maybe now they'll finally understand, she thought bitterly. Captain Stanley's urgent voice cut into her thoughts.

"Okay, John, it's okay, we're hitting both stairwells within thirty seconds, watch out." She could tell the Captain was attempting to sound calm and soothing for the medic, but his voice reeked with tension.

"Twenty too long!" Johnny was yelling above the roaring flames. His voice was steady now, but horribly raspy, " I'm giving it a 10 count, and I'm going through! Tell Roy to get ready." She couldn't believe it was this bad. He was going to run blindly down the stairwell, through the flames.

Roy's voice filled the radio, "Johnny, I'm here. I'm here, partner." His tone soft, betraying an underlying tangle of obscured emotion.

The only reply from John was short and relatively calm, as he attempted to be heard above the incessant roar of the fire. But it spoke volumes to both the nurse and his friend. "Thanks, Pally, you've always been there for me." His voice broke ever so slightly with emotion that she was sure only she and Roy noticed it.

She could imagine him standing there, his gear heavy on his straight shoulders, the child tucked safely in his arms, waiting for the right moment to attempt an escape though roaring flames. The nurse wondered if he was afraid. She was, because she understood that he just said goodbye to his best friend. Her eyes filled again, and she was powerless to stop them as they silently overflowed, tracing transparent lines of anguish down her pale cheeks. When he spoke again, seven long seconds later, his voice was muffled and she realized his mask was back on and was ready to go.

"I'm outta here." It was a strong and determined statement uttered by John Gage. She tried to draw hope from his tone, but could only feel despair.

While the noise at the fire scene was deafening, the silence at the nurse's station was painful. She was watching the clock again. The radio fell silent. Minutes passed. She took this to be a very bad sign.

*****

To say the last twenty seconds were long was an understatement. But when Roy saw John's form stumble down the stairs and into the spray of the hoses, it seemed like hours passed. He was surprised, because he really didn't think his partner would make it through the hall and down the stairway. The crew extinguished the fire scorching his turnout coat as three men grabbed the struggling medic by the legs and shoulders and ran headlong out of the building, closely followed by the men manning the lines. They all knew that there was no time left.

Roy's hands were shaking as he struggled to open John's smoldering coat. He begged his hands to cooperate, and he was finally able to unlatch the hooks, revealing Gage's catch. As he did, Charlie Dwyer, a medic from Squad 16, swiftly scooped up the small child lying on Gage's chest and ran immediately to a waiting ambulance. As Roy quickly removed the injured medic's coat, Dwyers' ambulance sped away into the night.

Roy could tell Johnny was in trouble. His chest heaved with each breath and he coughed uncontrollably, struggling to sit up, almost in panic. Marco pulled Gage into a sitting position, and Chet knelt behind him, holding him upright. They lifted him swiftly onto a stretcher and pulled it quickly into a second ambulance, securing it into place. The doors closed and the ambulance pulled away without hesitation.

Hank Stanley watched the rapidly retreating lights. There were orders he needed to issue, but he found himself unable speak. He was immobile as his mind filled with the scene that had just played out before him. His thoughts ran cold and his chest tightened. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily, desperately seeking relief. He knew he had made a grievous mistake.

*****

Nothing.

Not one word was heard from the scene until Hank Stanley called to his engineer. His voice was hard and guarded. Dixie found no comfort in his tone.

"Engine 51, Mike, tone out to clear the building, it's going down, nobody in, nobody out. Do it now."

Nobody out. What could he have meant? She looked to Joe and Kel, but neither man would dare meet her eyes. Each stared wordlessly at the radio.

The report from the medic's dispatch station took them by surprise. If they expected anyone to be alive, perhaps they wouldn't have been so startled. Dr. Early answered Squad 16's call.

"Go ahead 16, we read you loud and clear."

They could hear the frantic sirens in the background. Dwyer's voice was quick and clipped, "Rampart, be advised, we have a critical patient, age 3, female, respiratory arrest, vitals to follow."

"10-4, 16, standing by." Early responded calmly, but the easy tone of his voice was betrayed by his troubled expression. He looked over to Dixie. They knew this was a tragedy all the way around. But the question hung heavily on her face. What happened to Johnny?

Squad 16 updated Early on the child's vitals and the physician related IV, ET, and medication orders to the medic. He paused after they confirmed, hesitant to interrupt their work. One look at the nurse caused him to call back. "Squad 16, this is Rampart, do you have any other victims?"

Dwyer surmised they must have heard Gage's transmissions and that's what Early was delicately referring to. He knew Roy was alone and probably had his hands too full to call in yet. "Affirmative, Rampart, Squad 51 has an active Code I." He paused, unsure if he should add more. "I scooped the baby off his chest and ran with her. He's alive, but that's all I know."

"Thank you 16. We're standing by for updated vital signs on your patient." Dr. Early sighed deeply. Brackett's arm was resting over the nurse's shoulder as she dried her eyes. She shrugged him off as she rapidly regained her composure and deliberately raised her shoulders, erasing any hints of weakness. She stood suddenly when she heard Roy's voice over the radio.

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

Brackett took the call. "51, we read you loud and clear, move to frequency 4."

"Frequency 4." There was a brief silence as Roy adjusted the radio. "Rampart, 51, on F4."

"Go ahead 51." Brackett's voice was clearly impatient. Dix was at his side, watching him closely, a pained expression on her face.

"We have a Code I, paramedic, who was trapped in a structure fire, accompanying Squad 16's patient. He is in acute respiratory distress, conscious, and somewhat uncooperative. Vitals are as follows: pulse 160, BP 140/86, respiratory rate 40. Respirations are deep, with accessory muscle use. Wheezes are apparent in all fields, fine rales in the bases, with minor tracheal tugging present, suspecting brochospasm and possible airway edema. Capillary refill is normal. Perimordal cyanosis present, with slight cyanosis of the nail beds. Patient was breathing superheated air and heavy smoke for under 5 minutes. Patient is currently on 15 liters O2 via non-rebreather, upright position. Patient also has first and second degree burns. Second degree are: 3% back, 2% right arm, <1% neck, 1% chest. First degree burns in total are less than 2% body surface area with no vital areas involved. Please advise."

Brackett nodded as Roy's update progressed. Thank God Gage has you for a partner, he thought. "51, start two IV's, normal saline, TKO, run wide if pressure drops more than 15 mm systolic. Use humidified O2, if you haven't already, and add albuterol diluted in 2-5 cc sterile saline to nebulizer. If respiratory rate does not improve within two minutes, or edema acutely worsens, I will order a sedative and a tube. Be prepared."

Roy answered immediately, his rapid-fire report making Dix wonder if he took a decent breath since this whole thing started. "10-4, Rampart. O2 is already humidified, tube has already been prepared. IV is in the works. We are currently covering the second degrees with sterile moistened burn sheets and are blanketing the patient to maintain temperature. New vitals to follow, ETA 5 minutes."

Brackett said it out loud this time, "Thank God Gage has Roy for a partner."
Roy was back with the vitals. Dixie nodded gratefully. They had improved. It was minor, but at least they were not worse. It was all she could ask for.

*****

It was definitely different this time when the medics walked through the ER doors. Dr. Early waited impatiently in the hallway for Dwyer, but nodded kindly to him as he directed them to the treatment room. She immediately recognized a difference in the Doctor's manner, for when Dwyer started to speak, Early walked beside him, stopping him at the door. The Doctor, much to Dwyer's discomfort, held his arm as he asked questions about the patient's condition. And much to Dwyer's bewilderment, Early ended by asking if Dwyer himself was okay. It was only a ten-second exchange, but it made a lasting impression on the confused medic, and the world of difference to the observing nurse. He finally understands.

She could hear Johnny's ragged breathing the second the ER doors parted. The sound terrified her, and it was clear that although John Gage was not completely aware of his surroundings, he was acutely aware of his precarious health. As she approached the stretcher, she noted his tight grip on the gurney's railings, the worried lines on his forehead, and the outright fear in his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Before she could grasp the medic's hand, Brackett softly placed his hand on John's unaffected arm and said quietly, "Johnny, I know you've been through some bad stuff tonight, and you're worried. I know you're struggling to breathe and it's frightening, but I can fix it. Bear with me, and I promise I will make you more comfortable soon." He spoke softly as he held his face close to John's, lining up their eyes. He didn't break from the Johnny's gaze until the injured medic nodded slightly. As Brackett moved away, Dixie moved in, reeling from the Doctor's uncharacteristic display of empathy. Dixie held Johnny's hand as she assisted the crew turning the stretcher into the treatment room.

She could feel his grip tighten as they passed through the doors. "It's okay, Johnny, I'll stay right here with you." She could sense his shoulders loosen. Roy stood at John's affected shoulder and she could see him leaning in, whispering to him. She could not hear what he said, but she could see the injured medic nodding at intervals and relax slightly. Roy kept up the conversation, and John listened carefully, his attention successfully diverted from the activity at hand.

If she could have guessed what he was thinking and what Roy was saying to him, she would have thought the older medic was reassuring the young man about his recovery. She was wrong. She didn't realize her mistake until Dr. Early appeared offering his help to his colleague. She knew immediately that the child had died. And so did the medics. Roy's conversation halted momentarily as John's head snapped up following the Doctor's voice. She could read the confirmation on his face, and the outright sorrow. Roy's expression closely matched his partner's. She realized then what Roy was saying to his friend: he was preparing Johnny for this news. He leaned in again towards John as the medic's breathing worsened. She was shocked by the two men's response. And so were the two Doctors.

Johnny's face was etched with pain and grief. Tears fell heavily down his soot stained face as his shoulders shuddered with the effort of his labored breathing coupled with his spiraling emotions. The nurse looked at Roy, still whispering to his partner, his hand now resting on the man's uninjured shoulder. Roy's expression mirrored his partner's grief as he fought for control over own emotions. The room was silent, except for Johnny's ragged breathing, punctuated by an occasional catch in his throat as his tears continued unabated.

*****

Her eyes stung as she remembered that day. As the medics stood before her now, concentrating on the physician's words, she envisioned his tear-stained face from weeks ago. She stared steadily at Johnny's profile while the Doctor spoke. He must have felt her studying him, for she found herself suddenly looking into his dark brown eyes. The medic scanned her face thoughtfully, noting her sadness. His eyes softened immediately, his customary guard laid down. His hand brushed hers and he momentarily paused, gently entwining her slight fingers in his warm grip before turning his attention back to the physician. She was comforted as the conversation continued that the physicians recognized what she knew to some extent all along. They were kinder on this occasion, eager to voice that the medics performed all their work efficiently, and that their efforts, while not rewarded with a save, were none the less recognized as valiant. There were no tears this time, but she noticed the medics were particularly guarded when the news was delivered today, perhaps because of their overt display of grief following the structure fire weeks before. She knew the memory was painful for them. And it was painful for her to know it.

She was temporarily dismayed as Johnny reflexively tipped his head towards the door, initiating the familiar ritual of escape. She looked after them as they retreated, their gait pressed with sadness. She was heartened this time, however, when the younger medic turned to her as he walked through the doors, pausing to offer her a slight smile and acknowledging her concern with a brief wave of his hand. Dixie knew that they would be all right, better than the last time. Perhaps things really had changed.

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