RECLAMATION - Part 2

 

 

Anaheim, California

 

"Where's Mattson?  He's half an hour late."

 

"I dunno, Cap."  Paulo shrugged as he continued polishing the mirrors on the engine.  "I haven't talked to him in a couple'a days."

 

"Well, he better get his ass in here or I'll have to write him up."  Captain Brinkhoff stalked off toward his office, his displeasure evident by how loud the door slammed.

 

Paulo glanced up at the big clock hanging in the bay.  It wasn't like Keith to be late for a shift.  He was hardly ever sick and even then, he always called in plenty of time for Cap to get a replacement.

 

"You think something's wrong?" Jasper asked.  "Keith woulda called, ya know?"

 

"I know, amigo."  Paulo rubbed harder at an invisible spot on the chrome.  "But he's had some things on his mind.  So maybe he got preoccupied."

 

"Preoccupied?"  Jasper's rookie status rang loud and clear in his disbelief that anything could distract you from the job.  "How preoccupied can you get to forget you're on shift?"

 

Paulo heaved an exasperated sigh.  "I don't know.  Don't you have something to do?"

 

"Oh.  Yeah... sure."

 

Jasper walked out of the bay towards the hose rack, looking for all the world like a whipped puppy.  Paulo shook his head.  He hadn't meant to hurt the kid's feelings, but he was worried enough without having to listen to Jasper's naive wondering.

 

Paulo knew something was bugging Keith.  And he was afraid he knew what it was.  Keith just couldn't let this thing with Gage go.  The last few shifts Keith had been quiet, keeping to himself.  And when he did talk, he snapped at any small thing.  Though he hadn't mentioned Gage's name since that day he'd read the newspaper article about the inquest, Paulo knew that was what was bothering his friend.

 

They rarely talked about Cal or about what had happened.  The day Keith had exploded over the verdict at Gage's hearing was the first time in a long time that they'd even mentioned Cal's name.  Keith didn't talk about their dead friend because it still hurt too deeply, even after all this time.  Paulo didn't talk about Cal out of respect for Keith.  It wasn't the engineer's way to lock up his feelings inside.  Cal had been their amigo.  He was a good man.  He deserved to be remembered.  And if the circumstances of his death made it hard, that was all the more reason not to forget him.

 

But Keith couldn't do that.  Keith couldn't talk about Cal, and Paulo understood that too.  Some people were like that.  Cal was dead.  There wasn't anything Paulo could do for Cal anymore except to light novenas for him.  But Keith was alive, and he could do things for Keith.  So he didn't bring up the things that hurt.

 

But now Paulo was worried.  Maybe all the months of keeping things inside weren't such a good thing.  He would have to try and find a way to get Keith to open up and let out the hurt before it festered too deeply.

"Hey, amigo.  Don't rub the shine off."

 

Startled out of his dark thoughts, Paulo glanced up and saw his friend sauntering into the bay, not looking at all concerned about being late for work.  He jumped down from the engine.

 

"Where you been, hombre?  Cap's gonna have your ass."

 

Keith shot a glance at the office door and shrugged.  "I got caught in traffic.  What could I do?"

 

"Traffic?  For this long?"

 

The other man merely shrugged again.  "I had a stop to make."

 

"Stop?  What stop?"

 

"I had to see a sick friend... in the hospital.  What's the big deal?  I got hung up."

 

Paulo frowned.  He knew when Keith was lying and this was bullshit.  "Keith... amigo... what were you doing?  You gotta tell me, hombre."

 

Keith's bland smile faded into a glare.  "I don't hafta tell you shit.  You're not my boss."  With that he headed toward Captain Brinkhoff's office.  Paulo did note, however, that before Keith got there, he'd slowed his walk and slumped his shoulders a bit.  He at least knew he'd need to show a penitent demeanor to their superior if he didn't want to risk being fired.

 

As the door to the office closed after Keith, cutting off Cap's shout of "Where the hell you been, Mattson?" Paulo stared after his friend for a long time.

 

What have you been up to, amigo?  What have you been up to?

 

Chapter Six

 

Los Angeles, California

May 1978

 

"Tell me about the hearing yesterday."

 

It was an opening, not an order.  My sessions with John usually start off quietly, with me doing most of the talking.  It's normal for him not to want to broach any painful or uncomfortable subject.  So we generally start off with small talk, venturing into safe topics before I steer our conversation into more touchy areas.

 

It has been nearly a month now since our first hasty meeting.  John has made it through a couple of very large obstacles.  He handled the inquest into Reggie's death admirably, even though he still doesn't think so.  And his surgery went extremely well, though he experienced some anxiety about staying in the hospital.  He is still suffering from fairly frequent nightmares and was concerned about having them while he was in a strange place.  But he got through it.  He is here on crutches, his leg still in a cast.  But that will be gone in another couple of weeks.  He has some fairly grueling physical therapy ahead of him, but I am confident he is motivated enough to see that through.

 

His latest milestone was the hearing yesterday in regards to custody of his daughter.  I know he has been anxious to have this issue decided once and for all, though he is still apprehensive about the effects this will have on Melissa, as well as his friends Roy and Joanne DeSoto, who have raised the child since birth.  There won't be a quick fix for this one.

 

John gave a shrug.  I am familiar enough with his body language now to know that he was trying not to show his disappointment.

 

"The judge didn't give you custody?"  I admit I was slightly alarmed at that.  It would be a terrible setback for John if the judge decided he wasn't fit to be Melissa's father.

 

"Temporary," he answered evenly.  "He wants us to come back in six months."

 

"And do what?" I prompted when John didn't elaborate.

 

He heaved a resigned sigh.  "Show him I have my own place... that I have a job... "

 

He trailed off, and I knew there was more, but he wasn't ready to tell me.  I decided to pursue the things he'd already spoken of.

 

"That sounds like some good goals.  You should be ready before then to be out on your own.  It would be good for you and Missy to be by yourselves... without Roy and Joanne always there to fall back on."

 

"I know."  John's voice was low.  He did know these things, but he wasn't looking forward to facing them.  I understood that the prospect of moving out of the DeSoto home - of being on his own and being Melissa's sole parent - was daunting to him.

 

"It's not something that you have to go out and do tomorrow, John.  We can make a short term plan... things you can do in a week, or a month."

 

He nodded as if he'd expected me to say that.  He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closed it, then leaned his head back against the overstuffed chair.  Again, I knew him enough by now to know he was going to bring up something he really didn't want to.

 

"Is that all the judge wanted?" I asked, hoping to help him get started.  Sometimes the hardest part was getting the first word out.

 

He looked at me and smiled gratefully.  He, too, knew our routine and was aware of what I was doing.  But then the smile faded, and he fixed his gaze on my fish tank.

 

"He wants to contact Kathy... before he makes anything final.  He wants to talk to her."

 

"Why?"  I was genuinely surprised, though I admit my experience with family court was limited.  "I thought she'd given Missy up."

 

Johnny's face twisted in a wry expression.  "She did... but to Roy and Joanne... not to me."  He sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy hair.  "He said she stipulated Roy and Joanne specifically.  She didn't just give Missy away to whoever wanted her.  So he wants to be sure she has a chance to reconsider... if that's what she wants."

 

Now I could see where John's stress was coming from.  They had all assumed the custody would be merely a formality - that it would be only a matter of the judge signing some papers.  Now there was a third party involved, and they would all have to wait on her whim.  I had never met the girl, but I had picked up on Roy DeSoto's opinion of her the first time we had ever discussed John's case.

 

John hadn't discussed Kathy with me in any depth.  He'd only mentioned her once or twice in passing as Missy's mother.  He hadn't delved into their relationship, or his feelings for her.  I decided to test those waters and see if he was ready to open up.

 

"Is there any reason you think she'd object to you having custody?  The two of you were seeing each other before you were kidnapped.  She must have thought pretty highly of you at the time."

 

John didn't say anything for a long moment.  He looked uncomfortable, and I knew if he could get up and walk around he would, that he would have felt better if he was moving.  In the short time I'd known John Gage, I had already learned he was active by nature, that he would rather be moving than sitting still.  But since it's hard to pace on crutches, he transferred his nervous energy to his hands.  His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair and picked at loose threads on the upholstery until he was able to give voice to what he was thinking.

 

"I think the key words there are 'at the time,' Doc," he said sardonically.  "Yeah, back then... maybe.  But now... I mean... hell, I don't even know what I mean."  He sighed heavily.  "Back then I thought... well, I guess it really doesn't matter what I thought.  It's what she thought that counts."

 

"What are you trying to say, John?" I asked, trying to encourage him to put his thoughts into words, no matter how jumbled they sounded.  "You don't think she had feelings for you when you were dating?"

 

He snorted softly - a self-deprecating sound.  "I thought she did.  But she didn't even want to keep our baby.  She didn't even..."  He stopped, his voice telling me his emotions were very close to the surface, and he didn't want to break down.

 

"She didn't wait for you?" I supplied quietly.

 

John nodded once, then looked away, but not before I could see the tears on his cheeks.  He swiped at them angrily and struggled to get himself under control before he tried to talk again.  I waited patiently.  After a moment, he was able to continue.

 

"If she didn't think enough of me then... what the hell is she gonna think now?  You think she's gonna want me taking care of Missy?"  He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

 

I knew what he was afraid of.  It was what he was always afraid of.

 

"What if she thinks... what if she doesn't want her daughter being raised by a..."

 

"By a what, John?"  I know he didn't want to say it, but my job was to push him beyond where he was comfortable.

 

He raised his head and his eyes flashed with a mix of anger and despair.  "By a fag... a pervert... a... a..."  He ran out of steam and let his head fall back against the chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

 

I let him sit and think for a time.  We'd been through this before.  His fear of what other people thought of him ran deep.  But whether or not his child's mother believed any of the things the newspapers had implied wouldn't be settled until she answered the court's summons.  After a few minutes I switched gears.

 

"I want you to work on a couple of things before our next visit."  He didn't look at me, but I knew he was listening.  "John... how often do you go out?"

 

Now he did lift his head.  He quirked an eyebrow in surprise at my question.  I'd caught him off guard.

 

"Uh... well, Doc, I... I... "

 

"I don't mean dating," I assured him, seeing the panic on his face.  "I mean just go out... go shopping... go to a movie... go run errands... get out of Roy's house... even for a little while."

 

He stared down at his hands.  I already knew the answer.  I'd known it before I asked.

 

"This week I want you to get Roy or Joanne to take you out apartment hunting."  I held up my hand to forestall any discussion.  "I know... I know.  You really can't get a place until you start back to work, and you won't know when that will be until you start physical therapy.  But I think it would be good for you to see what's out there.  See what the market is like.  See what you might like.  Remember, you'll be looking for a place for a family, not just a bachelor."

 

That got a slight smile from him, so I continued.  "I think it will give you something to shoot for.  Get you thinking in the right direction."

 

John finally nodded.  I hadn't asked him to do anything terribly difficult.  But I knew the next thing was going to be a lot harder, and I knew he wouldn't agree to it without a fight.

 

"That's one.  The second thing is..."  I paused, trying to put this in a way that wouldn't terrify him.  "I want you to talk to a girl."

 

He sat up straight, his hands clutching the arms of the chair.

 

"But, Doc... you know I... I mean... I don't know any... who am I s'posed to..."

 

His eyes were full of fear.  I knew this area was going to be the hardest for him.  His time with Reggie had shaken his sense of sexual identity.  Regaining his confidence with women was going to be a long term battle.

 

"Don't worry, John," I assured him.  "You don't have to do anything more than merely say hello to a girl... any girl... well, any girl without the last name DeSoto."  I smiled, hoping to ease some of  the tension in the air.

 

He looked at me for a time, then I could see him relax somewhat and a grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

 

"What about McCall?"

 

I laughed, and his grin grew a little larger.  "No fast ones here, John.  Dixie doesn't count either."

 

We ended the session on that lighter tone.  Although I knew he was still not happy with his homework, at least he left my office with a smile on his face.

 

Chapter Seven

 

Joanne lay down on the bed and breathed a weary sigh as she crawled under the covers.  She reached out one hand and snapped off the light on her night stand.

 

"She go to sleep?" Roy asked.  His back was to her, but he sounded as wide awake as she was.

 

"Finally.  She's being one stubborn little girl."

 

"That's 'cause she knows you'll come," Roy pointed out in a tone that sounded testy to Joanne's ears.

 

She blew out an exasperated breath.  "What am I supposed to do?  Let her scream all night?"  When Roy didn't answer, she shifted so she was propped up on one elbow facing him.  "I feel so bad for Johnny when she does this.  He's trying so hard, and she just won't let him put her down."

 

"He'll have to get used to it," was Roy's curt reply.  "He won't always have you to come rescue him."

 

Joanne frowned at her husband's lack of sympathy.  It wasn't like him to be so short, but he'd been out of sorts for the last couple of weeks.  She'd yet to find a solid reason for it and had mostly chalked it up to the stress of everything that had happened since Johnny had come home.  Roy's appetite was off, and he'd been having more nightmares.  None quite so bad as that first one - at least that he'd told her about - but she was starting to wonder if he was just getting better at pretending for her sake.  She reached over and lay her hand on his shoulder.

 

"You okay?  You sound a little cranky."  She kept her tone light, trying to tease him.

 

"Why shouldn't I be?  I've been listening to the baby scream for over an hour."

 

He was so rarely gruff with her, that it surprised her.  Not knowing what to say to him while he was in this mood, she merely rubbed his arm for a bit, then laid back down on her side of the bed.

 

"Good night, Roy."

 

She must not have been able to keep the hurt out of her voice, for he let out a weary sigh and finally turned over.  His arms reached out, inviting her into his embrace.  She came willingly.  She hated having things tense between them.

 

"I'm sorry, Jo," he whispered into her hair.  "I guess I'm just tired."

 

She nodded, feeling tears in her eyes she knew were mostly from her own fatigue.  She wrapped her arm around his waist, noticing absently that he seemed to have lost a little weight.  But as his hands began to move along her shoulder and down her arms, her mind moved to other things.  They hadn't made love for a while, and she responded eagerly.

 

"I thought you were tired," she reminded him playfully.

 

"There's no... such thing... as too tired," he told her as he kissed his way down her neck.

 

"Just remember that when you have to get up for work," she warned, before she surrendered herself to his caresses.

 

* * *

"What Missy needs is to be entirely dependant on you, John.  She won't be able to do that as long as the two of you live here."

 

Johnny rubbed a frustrated hand over his face and resisted the urge to mutter, "no shit" to the lady sitting on the couch across from him.  This was the third time she'd met with them to discuss Missy's transition, and each time she reiterated the same thing.  It was getting a little old, but he supposed irritating the child psychologist wouldn't score points with the judge at their next custody hearing, so he kept his mouth shut and listened as Dr. Royce continued.  Her next statement made Johnny sit up in guilty attention, wondering if she had the ability to read minds.

 

"I know I sound like a broken record," she said with a knowing smile.  "But I don't want you to get discouraged if things don't change a whole lot while you're all living together."

 

"Johnny's been looking at apartments," Joanne offered helpfully.  "But until he goes back to work... well, it just isn't practical for him to move out until then."

 

Johnny smiled inwardly at Joanne's slight exaggeration.  She'd managed to drag him out apartment hunting exactly once - and he'd only gone so he could tell Dr. Evans that he had.  He wasn't really looking for an apartment.  It didn't make a lot of sense to him to put too much effort into it until he was closer to moving out.

 

He glanced down at the cast on his leg.  Two more weeks before it came off.  Maybe then... after he'd started physical therapy... maybe then he'd get more serious about looking for a place.

 

Hell, who am I kidding.  The thought of moving out scares the shit outta me.

 

"I understand what's holding things up," Dr. Royce was saying.  "But there are some things you can work on until then."  She paused, weighing her words.  "Remember... what I'm going to suggest won't be easy.  It may sound cruel, but it's really not.  In the long run it's kinder for Missy."  She paused for a moment, then went on.  "Roy... Joanne... you need to try to stop referring to yourselves as Mommy and Daddy to Melissa."

 

Joanne looked stricken, but she nodded slowly.  Roy hadn't said much through the entire session, but at the psychologist's words, he finally spoke.

 

"Papa," he corrected in a flat tone.  "I'm Papa.  Johnny's always been Daddy."

 

Dr. Royce regarded him wryly.  "Papa... Daddy, you know what I mean.  You have to distance yourselves... stop thinking of yourselves as her parents.  That's going to be difficult, but calling yourselves something else will be an outward reinforcement.  Think of another term... something a little less familial."

 

They sat in silence for a long moment.  Johnny could hardly look at either of his friends.  He knew this was agonizing for both of them, and he wished there was another way.

 

"What about aunt and uncle?" the doctor inquired.  "Isn't that what your children call John?  Uncle Johnny?  You could start referring to yourselves as Uncle Roy... Aunt Joanne."

 

He knew the effort it took for Joanne not to cry as she nodded her agreement, but her voice didn't waver when she asked, "What else can we do?"  His heart ached when he saw Roy reach out and take her hand.

 

"What..."  Johnny cleared his throat and tried again.  "What about when she cries for Joanne.  Like at bedtime?  I don't want her to be sad.  I... I don't want her to hate me."

 

"Oh, Johnny... she doesn't hate you."  Even through her own pain, Joanne was still trying to help him.

 

"She's right.  Missy doesn't hate you, John."  Dr. Royce's voice was full of compassion for their situation.  "It's just a matter of what she's used to... a routine that's comforting to her.  And in time... well, given time and distance, she'll come to look to you for that comfort."

 

Time and distance... time and distance.  Seems like that's what every doctor says.  How come nobody can help with everything that hurts so god damn bad right now?

 

"In the meantime," the psychologist went on, "do like you're doing already.  Let John be in charge of her as much as possible.  I know you're doing a good job with that."

 

She stood to leave, gathering up her papers.  "While you're waiting for John to get back on his feet, you can use that time to prepare yourselves for the big break.  You understand that when John and Missy move out, it will help immensely if you keep away for a while."

 

"Keep away?" Now Joanne's voice did quaver.  "For how long?"

 

"At first... the longer the better.  I'd recommend a few months at least.  It will be less confusing for Missy if she doesn't see you constantly... at least until she's somewhat adjusted to her new life."

 

"But Jo was going to babysit... while Johnny's at work," Roy pointed out.  He looked as crushed as Joanne.

 

"She still can," Dr. Royce assured him.  "Just not in the beginning."  She smiled ruefully.  "I know what I'm asking seems harsh, but it really will be better for the baby.  The longer you can stay away, the stronger the bond can grow between her and John."

 

She must have sensed the consternation she'd caused, for her next words were filled with encouragement.  "This isn't going to happen for a while yet.  I just wanted you to be prepared.  And I think it's wonderful that this little girl has so many people who love her and want what's best for her.  Not all children do, you know."

 

With that, she took her leave, assuring them she'd be back in touch when it got closer to the time for the big move.  Johnny watched Joanne get up slowly and walk the doctor to the door.  Roy stayed where he was, his face troubled.  Johnny stared at his lap, miserable with guilt.

 

This is all my fault.  I should've just stayed with Reggie.

 

Yes, you should've, Johnny.  You've messed everything up.  You should've stayed with me.  I told you I'd take care of you.  I'm the one who loves you, Johnny.  You're friends don't want you here.  You've ruined everything for them.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sound of Reggie's voice in his head, but he fought the familiar urge to wrap his arms around himself and withdraw.  He wouldn't give in to the impulse.  It never changed anything anyway.  It was a small victory, but one he should have been proud of.  He knew Dr. Evans would be.  But it rang hollow at the moment.

 

"Johnny..."

 

He slowly relaxed and opened his eyes.  Roy was perched on the arm of the recliner where Johnny was sitting.  His friend didn't say anything - he just sat there a moment.  Then, before he stood up, he let his hand come to rest on Johnny's shoulder.

 

It was a small gesture, but it said more than words.  It told Johnny that they were all in this together, and that somehow they would work together and make everything right.

 

Chapter Eight

 

June 1978

 

Roy held up the assortment of socks he'd just unwrapped so everyone could admire them.

 

"Thanks, Jen," he told his daughter with a smile.  Because his work didn't require ties, he was rarely subject to that traditional Father's Day gift.  But for some reason his kids thought he was in perpetual need of socks.  Every year, at least one of them gave him some.

 

"Glad to know some things never change," Johnny teased as Jennifer came over to give Roy a big hug.

 

"Very funny, smart guy," Roy shot back.  Johnny merely laughed, and Roy set the box of socks beside his other gifts - a set of car washing items from Chris and a sweater from Joanne.  "So what'd you get?"

 

Johnny picked up the flat envelope that Missy had brought to him after much prompting from the kids.  She'd chewed on it a little, but Johnny didn't mind.  He slid his finger under the flap and pulled out a card which showed a large puppy with big eyes.

 

"Wuf wuf."

 

Johnny grinned down at his daughter as she grabbed at the picture and did her best dog imitation.  "Hold on, Pipsqueak.  Lemme open it up."

 

Roy knew Joanne had taken the kids shopping for Father's Day Presents.  Both Chris and Jenny had been excited that Uncle Johnny was finally going to be able to have a Father's Day.  Joanne had told them they could pick out a present for him to be from Missy, but they hadn't told their dad what they'd gotten.  They'd insisted it was a secret and that he was Uncle Johnny's friend and might tell him.

 

As Johnny opened the card, a piece of paper fell out.  He reached down onto the floor and picked it up, scanning it quickly.  A smile grew on his face as he read.

 

"So what is it?" Roy asked again, leaning over curiously to see if he could read over Johnny's shoulder.

 

"It's a gift certificate," Johnny told him, flashing the paper at him.  "For a picture of me and Missy."

 

"He doesn't have any to hang on the wall," Jenny explained.  "When we walked by the picture store at the mall and saw all those families together..."

 

"We knew Uncle Johnny needed a family picture," Chris finished.

 

Roy glanced over at Joanne, but the look she gave him told him the kids were telling the truth and this had been all their idea.  He watched as Johnny tucked the coupon back into the card.  By the look on his friend's face, Roy could tell Johnny was touched by the gesture, and he smiled, proud that his children could be so thoughtful

 

"Thanks, guys," Johnny said in a quiet voice.

 

"Sure beats a pair of socks," Roy whispered, and Johnny laughed, his mood once more upbeat.  Then Roy turned to the kids.  "So... didn't I smell Mom baking a cake earlier?"

 

"You sure did," Chris exclaimed, jumping up, ready to race to the kitchen.

 

"Wait, Chris.  I wanna help," Jenny called as she ran after her brother.  Joanne got up and hurried after them to make sure they didn't destroy her kitchen in their eagerness to "help."

 

"Hold on, kids, hold on.  Let me get the plates down..."  Her voice faded as she disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Roy sat on the couch listening to his family.  Today had been a good day.  His gaze wandered over to where Johnny sat on the floor playing with Missy, and surprisingly he didn't feel any of the pangs of loss he'd normally feel when he contemplated giving up the little girl he thought of as his own.

 

But she's not mine.  She's Johnny's.  That's what the doc said to keep thinking.  I'm not her Papa.

 

"Bapa, Bapa... wuf."

 

Roy felt an insane urge to laugh at Missy's timing.  She was leaning against his knee, happily showing him the puppy on Johnny's Father's Day card. 

 

"That's right, baby girl," he said with a smile of his own.  "That's a doggie."  Then he took a deep breath and took the plunge.  "Tell Uncle Roy what the doggie says."

 

* * *

 

Johnny sat in the passenger side of the DeSoto station wagon, his knee bouncing out of nervousness.  Joanne was driving him and the kids to the mall.  She planned on dropping Johnny and Missy off at Sears, where they had an appointment to get their picture taken, then she was taking Chris and Jenny with her to the shoe store.  Chris needed new tennis shoes and Jenny wanted a pair of sandals for the summer.  Then they had plans to eat lunch at the Mall's new food court.  This was the kids' first big outing after school was out, and they were in high spirits.  Missy sat in her car seat next to them, happily chewing on a toy.  She loved to ride in the car, no matter where they were going.

 

Maybe he would have been more comfortable in casual clothes, but Joanne had scolded him good naturedly when he first appeared clad in jeans and a nice tee shirt.

 

"Oh, Johnny... you have to wear something a little nicer.  Missy's all dressed up."

 

He'd glanced down at himself, not sure why it mattered, but decided he didn't want to get into a discussion about the etiquette of family photographs.  He guessed it was one of those things women cared about that went right over his head.  So he'd trudged back upstairs, limping a little, but glad he finally had the cast off his leg and no longer needed crutches.  He found a pair of slacks and a decent shirt,  hoping Joanne wasn't going to insist he wear a tie.

 

She didn't.  She gave him a once over, then smiled her approval.  Then they'd all piled into the car and headed out.  Everyone was in a good mood.  Even Johnny had started out looking forward to the trip, but as they got nearer to the mall, he started feeling uneasy.

 

So maybe it wasn't something that could be fixed by jeans and a tee shirt.  Maybe he needed jeans, a tee shirt and about a hundred miles between him and all the people that would be at the mall.

 

He knew that was the reason behind his anxiety.  Even though Dr. Evans had encouraged him to get out more, Johnny had held back.  He made his doctor visits, his physical therapy appointments - places he had to be.  But to be out among a crowd, and without Roy or Joanne to be there with him, that was more than a little overwhelming.

 

It's only for a little while, he kept telling himself.  They'll just take a couple pictures and we'll be done.  Then we just wait for Joanne to meet us and we get to go home.  What could possibly happen?

 

But he was still nervous.  All those people.  What if they recognized him?  His photo had been in the paper enough for the whole world to know who he was.  He didn't want to think about what they might whisper about him behind his back.  He didn't want to think about the curious stares - or the disgusted ones.

 

"You okay, Johnny?"

 

"What?"  He pulled himself out of his apprehensive musings.  Joanne was talking to him.  "Uh... no... I mean, yeah.  I'm fine, Jo.  I'm fine."

 

"You sure?  We don't have to do this today if you don't think..."

 

"I'm fine, Jo... really."  He didn't want her to feel bad.  And he didn't want her to keep asking him about changing his mind.  He was too afraid he would.

 

"Well... okay.  The kids and I won't be long.  In fact, we might be done before you two are.  Sometimes these photo places get backed up."

 

"Don't worry," Johnny assured her.  "And don't rush.  If we get done first, we'll just wait for you at the food court like we planned."

 

"All right," she agreed, but in a tone that told Johnny she wasn't completely convinced.  But that was okay, because he wasn't either.

 

Chapter Nine

 

Francie  hated her job.  She didn't hate taking pictures.  And she didn't even mind taking pictures of little kids.  But when she thought of photographing children, she envisioned them running through grassy meadows and fields of flowers; children wide eyed with wonder as they discovered lady bugs and butterflies, their hair blowing free in the breeze, not sprayed into place by overly fussy mothers.  And certainly not tired and cranky and posing in uncomfortable positions in front of phony seasonal backdrops.

 

But it paid the bills.  And not many places had taken her seriously when she applied for a job.  Her mother ragged at her - the few times she bothered to climb out of the bottle - to cut her hair like normal people and to take out some of those freakin' earrings.  But Francie didn't see why it should matter what she looked like or what she wore or how she cut her hair.  She was smart and she was a hard worker, but nobody seemed over eager to take a chance with her.

 

Except for the manager here at the studio.  He hadn't cared that her shaggy dark hair had a streak of pink in it.  Once he'd found out she knew how to work the camera, the job had been hers. She considered it a sell out.  She still nurtured dreams of becoming a real photographer, but camera equipment cost money - money she didn't have.

 

With a sigh for the realities of life, she reached for the appointment sign-in sheet.  There were a couple of people waiting.  Somehow, no matter how fast they worked, they always fell behind.  She felt bad for the customers who came in thinking they had appointments, and still had to wait nearly as long as the walk-ins.  At least it was an off season right now.  With Easter over, appointments had dwindled to a more manageable number.

 

"I've got the two Chinese kids."  Terry Stephens, Francie co-worker, shoved her arm under Francie's and with a marker checked off Chen, K. on the sheet.  "You take the father/daughter combo over there by the beads."

 

Francie shook her head and repressed a sigh.  Terry was technically in charge of their shift, but she was not easy to work with.  She was loud and pushy and not a very good photographer.  Francie felt sorry for the two little boys who followed their mother into Studio A.

 

She glanced over at the waiting customers.  The man Terry was talking about was sitting in a chair watching his daughter play with the large array of busy beads.  The baby looked about a year old.  She was wearing a pretty blue dress, white tights, and had a big bow in her dark hair.  She was a cute kid.  It was a cute age, but one that could make for a difficult session if the child didn't want to cooperate.

 

She looked down at the sheet again to check the name, then called out, "Gage, J.?"

 

The man raised his head, then scooped up his little girl and walked toward the desk.  Francie noticed that he limped slightly, and she wondered idly what had happened to him.  But it was his face that held her attention.  He was definitely nice looking, but there was something in his polite smile, something lurking in his dark eyes, that spoke of more in his life than just good looks and an easy time.

 

"Are you both going to be in the shot?" she asked, as she handed him the form to fill out.

 

He nodded distractedly as he settled the baby on his hip, picked up the pen and began filling in the information.  "Uh.. Yeah... yeah both of us."  The camera in the studio suddenly flashed as Terry snapped a shot of the Chen kids, and Francie could have sworn she saw the man flinch when that happened.

 

It took him a couple more minutes to fill out all the marketing information required by the company, then he laid down the pen, scooted the clipboard toward her and handed her one of their pre-printed gift certificates.

 

"I've got this," he told her.

 

Francie nodded as she took a look at which coupon he had.  "This is our basic package," she told him.  "We take about five or six different shots, and you get to pick your sheets out of those poses.  Any questions?"

 

He shook his head and gave her another one of those half smiles.

 

"Okay.  If you'll follow me.  We're in Studio B... right over here."

 

She walked around the desk and led the way past the first room where she could hear Terry pleading with the little boys to give her a smile.  Francie shook her head at her co-worker's ineptitude, then stopped and gestured for her customer to proceed her into the empty studio.  Terry must have gotten the kids to finally give her a smile, for her camera flashed again, just as the man walked past.  This time his reaction was more pronounced.  He shied away from the curtained room, nearly bumping into Francie.

 

"Sorry," he mumbled in obvious embarrassment.  "I... um... I didn't see you..."

 

"No problem," Francie assured him, wondering why he was so weird about the flash.  "Come on in."

 

He stepped through the open curtain, then had to move aside to make room for Francie to get past him.  She glanced at the clipboard to see which backdrops he'd picked, then got busy arranging the sitting area.  She pulled the white wicker chair over and angled it slightly, then moved back to stand behind the camera.

 

"Go ahead and sit down..." she took another look a the paperwork to re-check the names.  "J. Gage?"  She gave him a teasing grin and got a shy smile in return.  "And just hold the baby on your lap.  Her name's Missy, right?"

 

He nodded as he sat down and settled his daughter in front of him.  Francie smiled to herself as she came over to arrange the little girl's dress.  Men never thought of those kinds of things.

 

"Hey, there Missy," she cooed to the baby, encouraging her into a good mood.  Not that this kid looked like she needed much prompting to smile.  She clapped her hands together and reached out to grab at Francie's earrings.  "Oh, no you don't," Francie laughed and pulled her head away.  She gave the father one more glance.  He seemed the only one not enjoying himself.

 

Oh well, Francie thought.  Not everybody's cut out to be a model.

 

She moved back to the camera and checked her monitor, making sure her subjects were centered.  This J. Gage guy was certainly tense.

 

"Okay, you two...we're gonna take a couple practice ones here.  Try and relax."

 

He glanced up, realizing she was talking to him.  "Sorry," he mumbled a little sheepishly and made an effort to loosen up his posture.

 

"That's better," Francie told him with a smile.  "Look like you're having a little fun here."

 

His smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a look of alarm, and Francie wondered if they would ever get a picture taken.

 

"It's okay," she said in the tone she usually used on frightened children.  "It's just a camera."

 

His face flushed red, but she saw him take a deep, steadying breath.  When he looked up again, his face was strained, but he was doing his best to smile.

 

Well... the Mona Lisa wasn't smiling much either.  I'll make this fast and let this poor guy get outta here.

 

"All right...  Here we go.  Hey, Missy, look at me."  She squeaked the rubber ducky to get the baby's attention and got a big, happy grin in response.  "That's a girl.  One, two three... There we go."

 

She clicked the button.  The flash and the shutter clicked with a pop and a whir.  "Okay, let's try another one."  She squeaked the ducky once more.  "That's it.  That's good.  Here we go."

 

She clicked the button again, but this time, after the flash faded, she realized something was very wrong.

 

* * *

 

Flash!

 

Oh, Johnny... that was a good one.  Do that again.

 

Flash!

 

Yeah.  I like that.  That's so good.  Move a little this way... no, just your hands.  Oh, yes.  Oh, yes.

Flash!

 

Lie down on the rug, Johnny.  Just like that.  Play for me, Johnny... play for the camera.  Have fun for me.  Have fun.

 

Flash!

 

Oh, God... I gotta get outta here.  I can't do this.  I can't do this.

 

His eyes were squeezed shut.  His breath was coming fast, and his head was spinning.  He knew what was happening.  He knew the signs.  But he couldn't let it happen now.  He had Missy with him.  He was aware enough to know he was still holding Missy.  If he gave in to the panic, he'd lose touch with her.  He didn't know what to do.  If only Roy was here... or even Joanne.  But he was alone... he was alone.

 

"Mr. Gage... hey... you okay?  Hey... J. Gage?  Stay with me, Jay.  Don't fold here."

 

He heard the voice.  It sounded concerned.  He didn't know who it was, but he knew it wasn't Reggie, and that was all that mattered.  He let himself focus on it - let it bring him back from the edge of terror.

 

His breathing gradually slowed, and he was able to open his eyes.  He saw a girl kneeling down in front of him - saw her anxious brown eyes waiting to know he was okay.  He held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his head until it leaned against the top of Missy's, and let out a slow, shaky breath.

 

"I'll... I'll be all right.  Just gimme... gimme a minute."

 

"Sure.  Take your time.  Just take it easy.  You want me to hold the baby?"

 

"No," he answered in alarm, pulling Missy toward him protectively.  She squawked a little at his handling and squirmed around in his arms until she stood up on his lap, her arms holding around his neck.  "No," he repeated in a somewhat calmer tone.  "I got her.  She's okay."

 

"Whatever you say."  The girl was still regarding him with a mix of concern and curiosity.

 

Johnny was still shaky.  He could feel himself trembling.  But he was more aware of where he was and that he was having this panic attack in front of a stranger.  He now added embarrassment to all the other emotions he was feeling.

 

"I... I'm sorry," he apologized.  "I don't know... I mean I didn't..."

 

"Hey, don't worry about it," she told him with a flick of her hand to dismiss his concerns.  "Stay here as long as you need."

 

Her tone was calm and steady.  It was easy to believe she really didn't mind that he was sitting here in her studio trying to pull himself back together.  But another voice broke into that calmness.

 

"Francie... Francie, what the heck's going on in here?"

 

Johnny's eyes darted over to the studio door and saw another girl standing there, a frown on her face and her hands on her hips.  As the girl in front of him started to stand up, she rested her hand lightly on his knee.  He turned back to her and saw the exaggerated eye roll she gave him before she got to her feet.

 

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Terry," she whispered, then gave him a reassuring smile.  She walked the few steps to the doorway, and the two photographers began a whispered conversation that Johnny could hear easily.

 

"You got a whacko in here or what?  Should I call security?"

 

"You're so smooth, Terry.  Give the guy a break, huh?  He just needs to get his head together a minute."

 

"Yeah, well, we're supposed to be taking pictures in here... not doing group therapy."

 

As they continued to talk, Johnny wondered how he could possibly get out of the studio without drawing attention to himself.  He wished he could just disappear.  He felt bad that he'd caused trouble for the girl who was helping them.  He was feeling a little better now.  His legs weren't quite so unsteady.  If he could just get out to the lobby and find Missy's stroller, then he could lean on that and go wait for Joanne in the food court.

 

He let Missy get down, afraid of stumbling and dropping her.  Then he pushed himself up out of the wicker chair.  Unfortunately, all that did was draw attention to himself.  Both girls turned and his photographer moved toward him.

 

"Hey, take it easy, Jay.  You don't wanna fall down."

 

As she reached to steady him, Johnny became aware that the other girl had suddenly grown silent.  She was looking at him with almost horrified recognition and actually backed up a step.

 

She knows who I am.  God, I hafta get outta here... now.

 

He shook off the first girl's hand.  "I... I'm okay.  I just need to go.  I'll be all right."

 

Fear now gave his rattled nerves the strength to act.  He reached down to pick up Melissa and walked toward the door, brushing past the girl who was now staring at him with her mouth open.

 

"Hey, Jay... wait a minute."  His girl started to follow him out, but her friend grabbed her arm.

 

"Francie... do you know who that is?  That's him.  That fireman."

 

"What fireman?"

 

"Are you kidding?  You can't be that much of a freak.  Don't you read the papers?  The fireman who lived with that crazy guy... that serial killer."

 

Johnny felt the flush move through his entire body.  He couldn't keep from hearing the girl as she enlightened her co-worker about him.  He tried to ignore her over-loud voice as he worked at strapping Missy into the stroller.  Missy wasn't helping as she decided she didn't want to ride right now.  She was crying and arching her back so he couldn't get the buckles snapped together.  The harder he tried to connect the straps, the more fumbled fingered he became, until finally he gave up and dropped to his knees beside the stroller.

 

I just wanna be home.  Please show up, Jo, and take us home.

 

"Here, let me do that."

 

He couldn't have stopped her if he'd tried.  As it was, he watched her give Missy a toy out of the basket under the stroller.  That stopped her crying long enough for the girl to get her buckled.

 

"Terry's a jerk," she said flatly, as she tickled Missy under her chin and got her to laugh.  "You got somebody here with you?"

 

Johnny managed to nod.  "Uh... yeah... um, I... I'm meeting a friend... over at the food court."

 

"Cool.  I'll walk over with you."

 

Johnny avoided meeting her eyes.  "No.  That's okay.  You... you don't have to do that.  I'll be okay."

 

"I know," she said in an unconcerned tone.  "But I could use a Pepsi.... and the company."  She stood up and positioned herself behind Missy's stroller.

 

Johnny finally let himself look up.  She was smiling at him, but there was a determination in her stance that told him she wasn't going to be talked out of helping him.  Sighing with resignation, he used the stroller and pushed himself up to his feet.

 

"You don't have to," he repeated.  "I'm really fine."

 

The girl just shrugged.  "I'm on my break anyway."

 

Giving up, Johnny let her push the stroller and walked beside her as they left the studio.  He never looked back, but he was fairly certain Terry was still standing there staring at them.

 

"You sure you won't get in trouble?" he asked as they slowly walked through the crowded mall.  The last thing he wanted was to cause this girl problems.

 

She shook her head dismissively.  "Nah.  But even if I do, it's no big deal.  It's not like I'm gonna be the next Ansel Adams working there."

 

"You know Ansel Adams?"  Johnny was surprised.  Not many girls he'd dated knew anything about photography.

 

"Oh, sure, Jay.  He's the greatest.  But I don't think I wanna shoot mountains.  I like people."

 

He smiled, but then regarded her curiously.  "Why do you keep calling me Jay?"

 

She gave him a mischievous grin.  "Don't you like it?"

 

He felt a grin of his own start, but a sudden flare of insecurity made him cast his eyes downward and he shrugged self-consciously.  "Um.. My name's John."

 

"And I'm Francie," she answered smoothly, as if he hadn't gotten flustered.

 

They'd reached the seating for the many different fast food outlets that made up the food court.  Johnny looked around but there was no sign of Joanne.

 

"Friends not here yet?"

 

Johnny shook his head.  "We were just going to wait here for them."

 

"Well, pick a table.  I'll go get us some drinks.  What's your choice?"

 

Not knowing how to tell her no, Johnny went ahead and told her a Pepsi would be fine for him too.  She walked off toward a burger place, and Johnny went ahead and found an empty table, where he sat down and busied himself getting Missy's snack out of the stroller basket.  By the time she was occupied with her sippy cup and animal crackers, Francie came back with two sodas.

 

"Here ya go.  I'm a Pepsi junkie myself.  Not good for me, I know, but I guess it's better than some of the stuff people get hooked on."

 

She continued talking as they sipped their drinks, more than willing to take up most of the slack in the conversation and allowing Johnny to sit and listen.  He was grateful for that.  For her letting him gather his rattled nerves while she made small talk.  And while he listened, he took a good look at her.  It was the first time he was calm enough to take the opportunity.

 

He knew her eyes were dark brown.  He'd seen them close up.  And her hair was too, dark enough to be nearly black... well almost.  Later he would blame it on his wobbly emotional state, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Your hair's pink."

 

She'd been in the middle of telling him about her woes of working at the photo studio, when his comment caught her off guard.  She sat back in her chair and tilted her head, giving him a cocky look.  "Yeah it is.  I was born that way."

 

He'd been mortified at his lack of tact, and was ready to apologize profusely.  Instead, his eyebrows lifted in surprise, then his whole body relaxed, and he grinned back at her.  Suddenly he wasn't in such a hurry for Joanne to show up.

 

Chapter Ten

 

"Chris, come one... you can look at baseball gloves another day."

 

She stopped her brisk walk and waited for her son to drag himself away from the sporting goods window and catch up with her and Jennifer.  Both kids were lugging bags with their new shoes.

 

"Johnny's probably been waiting for us for at least an hour," she told Chris as he caught up.

 

"Sorry, Mom," he apologized in the sullen tone only an eleven year old who's been dragged shopping against his will can use.

 

She didn't scold him.  He had been a good sport and hadn't complained much as Jennifer had been unable to find sandals that either fit right or looked nice until they'd combed through most of the shoe stores in the mall.  As a result, their quick trip had taken much longer than she'd planned.  She had hoped they'd be done in plenty of time to help Johnny with Missy and the photo session.  Especially since Johnny had seemed so edgy in the car.

 

Joanne knew he wasn't comfortable being out among strangers, and even more so since he'd be alone with just Missy.  It was a big step that he'd been willing to do this today.  It was important that everything go smoothly.

 

When they finally reached the food court Joanne paused, letting her eyes rove over the lunch crowd.

 

"There he is, Mom," Jenny said, pointing toward the far end of the seating area.

 

Joanne craned her neck until she spotted Johnny's dark head.  It looked like he was nursing a soft drink.  She herded the kids in front of her, and they wound their way through the maze of tables and chairs.

 

It wasn't until they were practically upon Johnny's table that Joanne realized he was sitting with someone - and that someone was female.  She stopped, nonplused.  She was positive Johnny wouldn't be sitting with a stranger, but she couldn't think of who he possibly knew who looked like the girl sitting across from him, and holding Missy in her lap.  Before she had a chance to plan some kind of polite entrance, the kids put an end to any design.

 

"Uncle Johnny!" Jenny cried and rushed up to his chair to get a big hug.  Chris wasn't far behind her, though he behaved with a little more male dignity.

 

"Hi, Uncle Johnny."  He sat himself down in the chair next to the paramedic.

 

"Hey, guys," Johnny greeted the kids with a smile, then looked up.

 

Looking for me, Joanne realized and moved over to the table.  I guess we just plunge ahead, she decided with a inward chuckle.

 

"Hi, Johnny," she said as she pulled out the other chair next to him.  That put her sitting between him and the girl, while Jenny snagged a chair from another table and dragged it over beside Chris.  "Sorry we took so long."

 

Johnny shrugged.  "That's okay.  Don't worry about it."  There was a moment of silence, and then Johnny realized he hadn't introduced his friend.  "Oh... uh, Joanne, Jen, Chris... this is Francie... um, Francie...?"

 

"Miller," the girl provided with a smile, letting Joanne know this wasn't someone Johnny had known before.

. 

"Nice to meet you, Francie.  I'm Joanne... Joanne DeSoto."

 

Joanne returned the girl's smile.  She was cute, in an unusual sort of way.  She looked a little bit like what the kids called "punk," but not horribly so.  Joanne didn't see any safety pins or strange objects attached to the girl's face, like she'd seen the punkers on television wear, but she did notice Francie's right ear had a row of sparkling earrings running up the outer edge, which at the moment were fascinating Missy.  As they talked, the baby kept reaching up to grab at them, and Francie was patiently diverting her little hands.

 

"Francie works at the studio," Johnny went on, interrupting Joanne's discreet observations.

 

"That must be an interesting job."

 

"Sometimes," Francie said with a laugh.  "And other times it's a zoo."

 

"How was it today?" Joanne asked, warming up to this quirky looking girl.  She turned to Johnny.  "Did your session go okay?"

 

Johnny's face immediately took on that uncomfortable expression that Joanne had come to know so well the past couple of months.  It told her she'd just broached a subject that he didn't want to talk about.

 

"Well... see, we didn't exactly... I mean, we didn't..."

 

"The equipment was down," Francie broke in casually.  "Would you believe that?  We couldn't take anybody's pictures today."

 

She was ingenuous enough that Joanne would have believed her, except for the look of intense gratitude Johnny flashed her from across the table.  Obviously more had happened this morning than Johnny wanted her to know - or at least wanted to talk about here.  Joanne decided the best course was to just go along with what they were telling her.

 

"That's too bad," she said, hoping she sounded like she believed them.  "But I guess you can come back another time."

 

"Oh, sure," Francie answered lightly.  "We rescheduled lots of people today."  She glanced around the group, then scooted back her chair.  "Guess I need to get back to work... not that there's any work to do, but my supervisor is one of those unreasonable types who won't pay me if I don't show up."  She shrugged with a "go figure" gesture.  She lifted Missy off her lap, meaning to hand her back to Johnny, but the baby instead reached for Joanne.

 

"Ma-ma," she gurgled happily as she snuggled into Joanne's arms.

 

This time the silence around the table was definitely awkward.  Joanne decided now wasn't the right time to try and correct Missy's usage.  Francie looked bewildered enough, and it would only make things more confusing.  Joanne looked at Johnny, to see if he was going to try and explain.  The paramedic was definitely flustered.  His face was flushed red and his hands were fidgeting with his empty soda cup.  A few weeks ago he probably wouldn't have said anything, but he'd made enough progress that he tried his best.

 

"It's... uh, it's a long story," he stammered.  "I... I was... uh, gone... for a long time.  Joanne and Roy... they took care of her... when I couldn't."

 

"That's cool that you have such good friends," Francie replied, and she scored points with Joanne for not asking any probing questions.  "I don't know anybody that would do that for me."  She sighed and then shrugged off the introspective moment.  "Guess I'll be going.  Nice meeting you guys."  She got up to go, but paused when she passed Johnny's chair.  "See ya around, Jay," she said softly and then left.

 

"She's nice, Uncle Johnny," Jenny announced as soon as the girl was out of sight.

 

And from the smile on Johnny's face, Joanne knew he agreed.  As they settled down to order lunch, that smile didn't fade, and Joanne decided that even though no pictures had been taken, they hadn't wasted a trip.

 

* * *

 

"Whatta ya mean, he met a girl?" Roy asked in surprise.  "I thought you guys just went to the mall."

 

Joanne was in the bathroom, taking off her makeup and getting ready for bed.  Roy had just brushed his teeth, and she'd caught him halfway out the door.  Though he wasn't on shift today, he'd been at a safety seminar most of the day.  This was the first time they'd had alone, and Joanne had taken the opportunity to fill him in on the day's events.

 

"We did go to the mall," she answered.  "But when we met up with Johnny at the food court, he was with this girl... Francie's her name.  Johnny met her at the photo place.  She seemed really nice."

 

"All he was supposed to do was get a family picture done," Roy reasoned.  "How did he end up picking up a girl?"

 

"You know Johnny," Joanne grinned.  "He could always find a girl no matter what he was doing."

 

"Yeah, but..."  Roy paused, uncomfortable saying what he was thinking.

 

"But what?"  Joanne turned from the sink.

 

"That was... that was before... before... what I mean is, I just don't see him ready to start looking for dates so soon."

 

Joanne's face grew thoughtful.  She turned off the bathroom lights and moved past him into the bedroom.  "I don't think he was looking for a date, Roy.  I think somehow Francie helped him out this morning."

 

Roy stood in the bathroom doorway for a moment, watching his wife pull down the bedspread.  Then his brows knit in concern.  "What happened?"

 

Joanne shook her head and sat down on the mattress.  "I'm not sure.  He didn't tell me.  Francie said the camera equipment was broken and they couldn't take the pictures.  But I don't think that's the truth.  I saw Johnny's face.  Something went on, but he wouldn't talk about it."

"What could have possibly happened at a photo stu..."  Roy halted halfway to bed as he suddenly made the connection.

 

Ah, damn... damn it all.  Of all the stupid ideas....

 

"Roy?  Is something wrong?"

 

"What?  Uh... no... no, nothing's wrong."  He walked the rest of the way to his side of the bed.

 

Nothing except sending Johnny down to that studio.  What was I thinking?  Why didn't I stop him?  Having to pose... to sit there and watch the camera...  He wouldn't want to be reminded...

 

He tried to stop that chain of though before those dreaded images flashed through his mind, but he wasn't successful.  He had to swallow deeply before he climbed into bed, aware that Joanne was watching him with a look of concern.  He dredged up a weak smile to try and reassure her.

 

"Nothing's wrong," he repeated.  "Maybe it wasn't that big a deal."  He turned out the light on his side of the bed, but saw that Joanne hadn't laid down.  "Come on, Jo... If Johnny wants to talk about it, he will."

 

"I'm not worried about Johnny," Joanne said evenly.

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"You, Roy.  You went white as a ghost and your face looked... I don't know... you looked like you were going to be sick."

 

"I'm fine, Jo... really."

 

"Are you, Roy?"

 

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed and sat up.  She wasn't going to let this go.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about.  Why wouldn't I be fine?"

 

She regarded him in silence for a moment, but Roy knew she wasn't finished.  She had that same look she wore when she was waiting for the kids to confess to something she already knew about.  He sat quietly, knowing she would tell him what was on her mind.  She didn't disappoint him.

 

 

"Okay, Superman... let's talk about that fact that you're not sleeping good, you're not eating, you're having nightmares that make you throw up."

 

"Anything else?" he asked irritably.

 

She gave him a tight lipped smile.  "Ah, thanks for reminding me.  You're on edge most of the time."  Her voice now took on a worried tone.  "That's not normal for you, Roy."

 

"Normal?" he snorted.  "In case you hadn't noticed, Jo... there hasn't been much in our lives that's normal lately."

 

"You know what I mean," Joanne retorted, her exasperation with him sounding loud and clear.

 

"No, I don't," Roy argued, more adamantly than he really meant to.  He figured he needed to divert this whole discussion away from himself.  "How did this get to be about me anyway?  I thought we were talking about Johnny not wanting to have his picture taken."

 

"Who said Johnny didn't want to have his picture taken?" Joanne asked, her face confused.  "I just said they couldn't take it today."

 

Damn!  Why can't she just drop this whole thing?

 

"Well, whatever happened..."

 

"Roy... is there some reason Johnny wouldn't want to get a photo done?  Is there something I should know about?"

 

"Of course not.  Why would you think that?"

 

"Because you said..."

 

"Don't put words in my mouth, Jo.  I didn't mean anything."

 

"But, Roy..."

 

"God, Joanne, just give it a rest!"

 

Their bedroom grew suddenly very quiet.  It was a silence that hung heavy between them.  Roy sat on the bed and silently cursed his lack of control.  There had been few times in their married life that they were angry with each other.  Of course, they didn't always agree on everything, but those issues rarely escalated into full blown fights.

 

He glanced over at Joanne.  She was staring at the pillow in her lap, her fingers playing with the tassels.  He hated seeing her like that.  For an instant he was tempted to just tell her.  Tell her about the house and about the pictures.  But he couldn't do that.  Not because he'd promised Johnny, but because he loved her too much to burden her with what he'd seen.

"Jo... I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have yelled.  I know you're just worried.  But don't be... about me anyway.  I'm fine.  And Johnny..."  He sighed wearily and ran a hand over his eyes.  "Jo... there's some stuff... just some things about what happened to Johnny..."

 

She moved over quickly and placed two fingers over his mouth to hush him.  Then she leaned in and kissed him.  When she pulled back, she regarded him with an understanding expression.

 

"You don't have to say anything else, Roy."  Her voice was quiet, but she didn't seem mad.  "I know there are things you haven't told me... things I probably don't want to know.  And that's okay.  I know it's your way of trying to protect me, and it's really between you and Johnny.  But, Roy..."  She leaned in close again.  "Try not to let it come between us."  She kissed him again.  "Okay?"

 

He reached out to brush the hair out of her face, then took her into his arms.  He didn't know what he'd done to deserve such a woman in his life.

 

* * *

 

Johnny lay with one arm over his eyes, trying to go back to sleep.  Even though he'd told Dr. Evans that his nightmares were lessening, that wasn't the complete truth.  He still had them every night.  What was lessening was their intensity.  He rarely woke up screaming anymore, which he was sure made Roy's family's life much easier.  But he still woke up - usually with his heart racing and his body covered with a sheen of sweat.  He wondered if there would ever be a night where he slept undisturbed until morning.

 

Tonight's dream had been a more vivid than they'd been in quite some time, and he knew it was because of his reaction at the photo studio.

 

What an idiot he'd been.  How stupid he'd acted.  It was just a camera.  It was just a picture of Missy and him.  When the kids had given him the card with the coupon, he'd been so happy. It seemed like such a normal, "family" kind of thing, and he needed all of those kinds of experiences he could get to strengthen the feel of being a real family with his daughter.  It had never even occurred to him that he'd have a reaction like he did - out in public, in front of strangers, and with Missy in his care.

 

He'd been lucky.  Lucky that a girl like Francie had been their photographer instead of the other one.

 

The thought of the young photographer brought a smile to his lips, and it chased away the last terrors of the dream.  She'd been so nice to him.  She hadn't freaked out or called security, as he was sure Terry would have done.  And she was willing to risk her job to stay with him until she was sure he was okay.

 

They'd talked - well, she talked mostly, Johnny had to admit.  But she seemed to sense that he needed her to do that.  That he wasn't ready to carry his end of the conversation at that moment.  She'd talked about a lot of things, mostly inconsequential.  But she had touched on her love of photography.  He'd even managed to contribute a little to that subject without stammering too badly, or sounding like an idiot.  They'd both commiserated over the cost of camera equipment and how expensive a hobby it could be.  But mostly she'd just been there as he slowly recovered from his panic.

 

He wondered if there was anything he could do to thank her for her help.

 

Thank her?  You're lying, Johnny.  You want to do more than that.

 

He pressed his arm tighter against his forehead, as if he could squeeze Reggie's voice out of his brain. He still occasionally heard his captor's voice, and though not as frequently as before, when it happened, it could still send his heart pounding in his chest.

 

She's a little girl, Johnny.  Much too young for you.  Besides, you can never play the game with anybody but me.

 

"Shut up!" he whispered fiercely, then threw back his sheet and swung his feet to the side of the bed.  He wasn't going to go back to sleep any time soon.  He needed to get his mind on something else.

 

Doing his best to be quiet so he wouldn't bother Chris, Johnny left the bedroom and walked down the hall.  He stopped in Missy's room.  She was sleeping soundly.  He stood watching her for a long moment, his hand on the crib rail.  Then he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen.  Maybe a glass of milk would help.

 

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realized someone else must be having trouble sleeping.  There was a light on in the kitchen, and knowing both Roy and Joanne were night time snackers, he figured it had to be one of them.

 

He was right.  Roy was standing with his back to the sink, leaning against it, a half eaten banana in his hand.

 

"Couldn't sleep either?" Johnny asked as he came in.

 

Roy glanced up quickly, his face telling Johnny he hadn't expected company.  He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed at being caught.

 

"Well, I just... you know... something woke me up so I thought I'd grab a little something."

 

"I know the feeling," Johnny snorted.

 

He opened the fridge and grabbed the milk.  Roy reached behind him and pulled a glass out of the cupboard.  He handed it to Johnny.

 

"Thanks," he said as he poured the milk and returned the carton to the fridge.  While he drank he took a moment to study his friend.  Roy looked a little more haggard than he should from being awakened in the night by a strange noise or having to go to the bathroom.  There was something in his face - something Johnny knew well.  He'd seen it in the mirror often enough when he'd been chased out of bed by bad dreams.

 

"You have a nightmare?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

 

Roy's eyes met his quickly - then moved away.  He shook his head and gave Johnny a not quite convincing smile.  "I dunno.  Maybe.  I never remember my dreams anyway."

 

Johnny snorted.  "Wish I didn't."  Then he wished he hadn't let that flip remark come out.  Roy's face now took on an almost guilty expression as he hastily threw away the rest of his banana and washed his hands.

 

"I guess I'll head back to bed," he said, his tone light, but Johnny wasn't sure he believed it.  He let his hand rest briefly on Johnny's shoulder as he passed.  "You all right?"

 

Johnny nodded and gave Roy a reassuring smile.  "Sure.  I'm just gonna finish my milk."

 

"Good night, then."

 

"Night, Roy."  Johnny watched his friend leave the kitchen and wondered if he was imagining things.  He finished his milk slowly, his mind no longer on his own problems.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Keith sat slumped in his car, only half listening to the tunes coming from his radio.  It was a warm day, and there were a million other things he could be doing besides sitting here hot and miserable.  But he made no move to leave.

 

He didn't remember when he'd started watching the DeSoto house.  A couple of weeks maybe.  It had been relatively easy to find Gage.  Keith still knew some guys working out of L.A. County.  All it took was some time at Jimbo's Bar & Grill, a few beers and dropping Gage's name.  The guys were more than willing to talk.

 

So he knew John Gage was staying with his partner, Roy DeSoto.  He knew Gage was doing rehab on his knee right now.  He knew Gage had a kid and was seeing a shrink to help him get his head straight about everything that had happened.

 

Keith snorted at that.  How could anybody live a normal life after being that perv's bitch?

 

He'd found out other things - things that weren't so tangible as addresses and doctor's appointments.  Keith's buddies, their mouths loosened by the alcohol they'd consumed, had also been eager to share the rumors and gossip that were flying through the department.

 

Gage was going through PTSD big time.  While he was missing his girlfriend had dumped their kid on DeSoto and split town.  There was a lot of talk about whether Gage was straight or not.  He'd always seemed that way, but now nobody was sure.  Yeah, he'd chased skirts like the rest of them, but he'd never stuck out a long term relationship.  And a guy had to wonder why that psycho hadn't killed him.

 

It was mostly stuff Keith had thought about on his own, but it served to reinforce the opinion he'd formed about why John Gage came home and Cal didn't.  It wasn't fair, and that inequity stirred up the anger he'd always felt about Cal's death.  There hadn't been anywhere to vent it before.  But now Gage had become the focus of all his dark thoughts.

 

Sending him the flowers and card at the hospital had been a whim - a spur of the moment action.  When one of the men he'd talked to mentioned Gage had just had surgery on his knee, Keith had acted on impulse.

 

It made him feel good - victorious in a strange way.  After that, he'd gone about his business - tried to tell himself he'd made his point and should move on.  It would certainly get Paulo off his back.  He knew his friend was worried about what he saw as an obsession.

 

But it hadn't lasted.  He found himself still thinking about Gage.  It nagged him constantly that this man was picking up his life as if nothing had happened.  He shouldn't be able to just fit back in.  He shouldn't be allowed to forget what he was and what his life cost.

 

So Keith had started spending his off duty hours watching the man, seeing where he went and who he saw.  And he spent those hours figuring out what he needed to do.  Paulo was wrong about this being an obsession.  It had nothing to do with that.  It was about fairness and justice and making things right.

 

* * *

 

Joanne came down the stairs, glad the laundry was finally done.  Missy was down for a nap, and Chris and Jenny were at the Bradford's swimming, so it was quiet in the house for a change.  She had planned to just grill some hamburgers for dinner, so she headed for the kitchen to make sure she wasn't going to have to make a trip to the store.

 

As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed the door that connected the service porch to the garage was open, and she could hear someone out there.

 

"Johnny?"

 

She walked over to the doorway and peered into the dimly lit garage.  They used to park both Roy's Porsche and the station wagon in here, but when they moved Johnny's belongings in, that took up too much room for two cars to park.  Since Roy had the Porsche at work, the wagon was inside.

 

"Johnny, you in here?"

 

She heard the scrape of boxes and walked around her car, where she saw Johnny kneeling on the garage floor, digging through an open cardboard box.

 

"I thought that was you," Joanne announced.

 

Johnny looked up, a little startled.  "Oh, hey, Jo.  I didn't hear you."  He bent his head back to what he was doing.

 

Joanne came over and squatted beside him, looking at the side of the box to see what they'd labeled it when they'd packed it up.  It said "bedroom closet."

 

"What are you looking for?"  He'd shown very little interest in going through his belongings since he'd been back.  Other than a couple of times Joanne had helped him retrieve more clothes, he hadn't come out here.

 

"My camera," he answered distractedly.  "I usually kept it in the closet."  He glanced up, a look of apprehension.  "You guys didn't sell it, did you?"

 

Joanne shook her head.  "We certainly didn't," she assured him.  "The only stuff we got rid of was your furniture."  She gestured around the garage and smiled.  "No room."

 

Johnny smiled back, a little self-consciously.  "I guess I'm lucky you guys don't live in an apartment.  Then I wouldn't have anything."

 

Joanne laughed lightly.  "Not if Roy had anything to say about it."  Johnny glanced up and met her eyes.  They didn't need words to acknowledge Roy's steadfastness.  Joanne broke the moment and peered into the box.  "I don't remember seeing it go into this box.  Hmmm...."  She looked around the stack of boxes, then stood up.  "Maybe this one."

 

He got up and together they moved a box marked "desk stuff" off the stack and onto the floor.  As Johnny opened it up, Joanne sat down and began putting things back in the closet box.

 

"Why are you looking for your camera?" Joanne asked as she repacked Johnny's odd assortment of sports gear, photo albums, car care items and magazines.

 

"I dunno.... I just..."  Johnny shrugged and though the light wasn't good enough to see, Joanne knew he was blushing.  "I'm just gonna let somebody borrow it," he finally told her.

 

She smiled, but didn't let Johnny see.  He hadn't exactly had a social life since he'd come home, and there was only one person Joanne could think of who would be even remotely interested in his camera.  She was glad he'd found a friend.  Her smiled deepened.  Who was she kidding?  She was glad he was interested in a girl again.  She didn't need to be a psychiatrist to know that was a good sign.

 

"I found it!" Johnny cried and pulled a small black carrying case out of the box.  He reached in again and found another, smaller case.

 

"What's that one?" Joanne asked.

 

"Couple of lenses... just to play around with."  He opened the case and examined its contents.  "I don't... didn't have a lot of stuff.  Costs too much."

 

"I'm glad you found it," Joanne told him and got up to go.  "If you need anymore help, let me know."

 

"Hey, Jo?"

 

She stopped just as she'd reached the door to the service porch and turned.  Johnny was standing with his camera case in his hand.

 

"Um... do you think... I mean, maybe if you aren't too busy... do you think..."

 

She smiled and decided to spare him the stress.  "You know, I have some errands to run when Missy wakes up.  The grocery store... the bank... I was even thinking of stopping by the mall.  You want to come with me?"

 

The grin on his face was answer enough.

 

* * *

 

Johnny walked through the mall, trying his best to ignore the crowd of harried mothers and laughing teenagers who thronged the walkways.  Even though he'd made a lot of progress in his sessions with his psychologist, he still had to fight the feeling that everybody was looking at him - that everybody knew who he was and what he'd done.  Dr, Evans told him that was normal and would fade in time, but his anxiety kicked into high gear whenever he was stressed.  And walking through a crowded shopping center on the way to talk to a girl he barely knew was definitely stressful.  Fortunately, the photo studio was fairly close to where Joanne had parked, and he wouldn't have far to go.

 

A part of him wished Joanne was with him, but she'd made up some story about looking for a baseball glove for Chris and volunteered to take Missy with her, leaving Johnny to do this on his own.  Deep down he was grateful for her perceptiveness.  He really wanted to talk to Francie on his own, without looking like a thirteen year old boy whose mother had to drive him to his girlfriend's house.

Girlfriend?  Sheesh!  That's lookin' pretty far down the road.

 

He felt a wash of nervous perspiration at the mere thought of the word "girlfriend."  He'd had long talks with Dr. Evans about women and Johnny's fears and insecurities about re-entering the dating world.  He wasn't even going to think in those terms.  He was just going to concentrate on today - on talking to Francie and thanking her for her help.  If he let his mind wander into the realms of "what if" then he wouldn't be able to get a word out.

 

Besides, there was one thing the voice in his head that sounded so much like Reggie was right about.  Francie was too young.  She looked like she was barely out of high school, and Johnny was fast approaching his thirty second birthday.  Even if he was in the frame of mind to consider her for anything besides a friend, the math wasn't right.  Somehow that made him feel easier about seeing her today.  There was no way that things would get past a point where Johnny was comfortable.  Francie would be a safe friend.  There was no way she would expect things from him that he wasn't ready to give.

 

Somewhat calmed, he picked up the pace a little.  His leg was getting stronger every day.  He barely limped at all now.  He still wore an athletic brace on his knee when he did his exercises, but it was coming along rapidly.  Both Dr. Reynolds and Ernie, his physical therapist, were extremely pleased with the rate of his recovery.

 

He was feeling so much better, he had no explanation for his abrupt wave of paranoia.  He stopped and spun around, frantically scanning the faces behind him.

 

Somebody was following him.  He could swear somebody was watching him.

 

The hair on his neck stood up and his breathing quickened, but he struggled to keep the panic attack at bay.  Other than a few curious stares by the people walking by, nobody was acting out of the ordinary.

 

You're nuts.  Nobody's watching you.  Who'd even want to?

 

He forced himself to turn back towards the studio.  It took enormous effort to get his legs working again, but he finally managed to start walking.  By the time he'd reached his goal he'd managed to regain most of his composure.  And he'd convinced himself he was imagining things - that he was only still nervous about talking to Francie.

 

And he was certainly nervous.  All his earlier reasoning suddenly abandoned him as he entered the double glass doors, and he found himself standing inside the studio.

 

There were a few people sitting in the waiting area.  Johnny didn't make eye contact with any of them as he walked up to the desk.  He could feel the sweat gathering in his palms and his heart thudding in his chest as he realized Francie wasn't standing there.  Terry was.

What if she's not working today?  I didn't even think about that.  She might have the day off.  She might have been fired.  Damn, what if she lost her job because of me?

 

The brief hope he nurtured that Terry wouldn't remember him was crushed by the look on her face when she saw him standing there.

 

"You're back?" she asked bluntly.  "Gonna get your picture taken this time?"

 

"Um... no, I..."  He swallowed drily and glanced around, hoping he'd see Francie.

 

"So beat it," Terry told him darkly.  "We take pictures here.  We don't need weirdos hanging around taking up our time."

 

Johnny felt his heart racing, and it was all he could do not to turn around and do exactly what she'd asked him.

 

"I... I was looking for Francie.  Is she working today?"

 

The girl gave him a hard look.  "Yep.  She's working.  So she doesn't have time for visitors."

 

"Oh."  Johnny wasn't sure what to do next.  This girl wasn't going to appreciate it if he hung around the studio until Francie was free.  Maybe he could just wait outside in the mall and come back when he saw Francie at the desk.  "Um.. Well, maybe if you could just tell her..."

 

"Hey, do I look like a messenger service?" Terry demanded hotly.

 

"Okay.  Don't worry about it," Johnny answered hastily.  He'd just about lost all the nerved he'd been able to gather.  He stepped back and was about to go when he heard Francie's voice.

 

"Hey... Jay."

 

Weak with relief, he turned toward Studio A and saw Francie walking toward the desk.  She was smiling at him and he felt something stir inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time.  It scared him and he struggled to ignore it.

 

"What are you doing here?"  She'd reached the desk now and pushed her way up beside Terry in a very unsubtle move.  Terry glared at her as she was forced to scoot over.

 

"I..."  His mouth was dry and he fumbled with the words.  "I was just... I, uh, just thought I'd stop by and see..."

 

"This isn't your break time," Terry interrupted, and Johnny felt an intense desire to strangle the girl.

 

Francie merely turned to regard her co-worker blandly.  "Bite me, Terry," she said in a calm, even voice.

 

"I can report you, Francie," Terry blustered.

 

"Go for it.  And while we're reporting, let me write one up about how much time you spend on the phone with your sister."

 

"I.. I don't," Terry sputtered, her indignant gaze moving between Johnny and Francie Then she grabbed the clipboard and stomped off in a huff to call the next customer.  Johnny felt sorry for whomever she was going to photograph.

 

"Don't mind her," Francie told him, her mouth twisted in a grimace.  "She's a blowfish."

 

"I'm sorry," Johnny apologized.  "I didn't mean to cause you trouble.  Yesterday or today."

 

"Ah... don't worry about it.  She's mostly mad 'cause I didn't fill her in on all the juicy tidbits."

 

It took Johnny a moment to figure out what she meant.  His eyebrows lifted, and he felt his face go red.  "You... you mean about me?"

 

Francie smiled wry.  "Yeah, but she's just morbid about stuff like that."  She shrugged as if that ended that and thankfully changed the subject.

 

"So what can I do for you?  You want to reschedule?"

 

Johnny shook his head.  "No.  Not yet.  Maybe later."

 

Francie didn't seem put off.  She merely nodded.  "Okay.  Whenever you're ready."

 

"I came by to see if... well, I thought maybe..."  He set the two cases he'd been carrying up on the desk.  "I know you said you didn't have a good camera... and I'm not using mine right now."

 

"Oh, Jay... are you kidding?"  She opened the case and pulled out his camera, turning it admiringly.

 

"It's not brand new," he said self-consciously.  "But it's in pretty good shape."

 

"It's great," she told him enthusiastically.  "But you have to need it... with Missy and everything."

 

Now it was Johnny's turn to shrug.  "I can always use Roy's for snapshots.  And I'll get it back from you when I'm ready.  I'm really not doing anything I'd need it for.  It might as well get some use."

 

"This is unbelievable."  She set the camera down and opened up the case with the lenses.  "These too?  This is too wild.  I don't even know what to say."

 

He was smiling now, all the hassle with Terry forgotten.  "Just show me some of the shots you take," he said.

 

"You bet I will."  She'd picked up the camera again and was looking through the viewfinder.  When she finally set it down, her brown eyes were shining with what Johnny thought might be tears.  "I don't know how to thank you, Jay.  This is the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me."

 

Something she'd said yesterday suddenly flashed through Johnny's memory.

 

That's cool that you have such good friends.  I don't know anybody that would do that for me.

 

She couldn't possibly have really meant that the way it sounded.  Everybody had friends.  Didn't they?  He tried to remember if she'd mentioned anything else about herself during their brief talk yesterday, but he couldn't recall anything specific.  But if she didn't have any friends, maybe she just didn't know the right people.

 

"Are you doing anything for the 4th?" he blurted out, before he even realized he was going to say anything.

 

She glanced up from the equipment and regarded him curiously.  She didn't say anything for a long time and Johnny's stomach began churning.

 

Why did I say that?  Now she thinks I'm on the prowl.  I just wanted to be nice.  Why did I open my big, fat mouth.  Why did I...

 

"Nothing in particular," she finally answered, her eyes never leaving his.  "Why'd you wanna know?"

 

"Oh... well... um..."  Now he had to fight to find the right words.  So she would know he wasn't a jerk and he was just trying to be a friend.  "See... I'm a fireman... a paramedic really... well, I was... I mean, I am..."

 

Man, I'm blathering.  She's really gonna think I'm a nut case.

 

"A bunch of the guys I work with... worked with... they all get together at Roy's house... You remember Joanne... her husband.  Anyway... all the families get together and have a picnic... you know just burgers and dogs... sparklers for the kids... stuff like that."

 

"Sounds like fun," Francie said with a smile that said she was waiting for him to get to the part that involved her.

 

"It is... lots of fun.  I just thought... well, maybe you could come.  If you're not doing anything else, I mean."

 

Geeze, could I sound any more like I'm in junior high?

 

But Francie didn't seem to think he was being adolescent.  Her smile widened, and she nodded.  "Sure.  Just give me the address and the time."

 

"What?  Oh, yeah... the address."  He grabbed a brochure and jotted down Roy's address and phone number.  It wasn't easy since his fingers were shaky with relief.  But he got it done and handed it to her.  "There ya go.  If you can't make it, I understand... you know... no pressure."

 

"I'll be there," she promised, then glanced over her shoulder.  "I guess I better get back to work.  Terry was right.  It wasn't my break time."  She laughed lightly and grabbed up the cases.

 

Johnny gave her a smile in return and then headed for the doors.  He couldn't believe he'd asked her over.  Wait 'til he told Joanne.  Then he laughed to himself.

 

Joanne, nothing.  Wait 'til I tell Dr. Evans.

 

* * *

 

Francie pulled into the carport and shut off the engine.  The old Nova sputtered a while before it finally quieted down.

 

You gotta keep going ol' girl.  I can't afford any car repairs right now.

 

She got out of the car, grabbed her purse and the two black cases she'd gotten from Johnny and headed upstairs to the apartment she shared with her mother.  As she walked past other units she tried not to grimace at the trash on the grounds, the towels and  rugs hanging over the iron railings along the walkways, and the dirty, runny nosed children playing unsupervised in the parking lot.  She should be used to it by now, but it never ceased to bother her that they lived in a dump.

 

Someday I'll live in a nice house... nothing too fancy, but nice and homey.

 

She laughed to herself.  That was an old fantasy.  One she hadn't indulged in in a long time.  When she was about eleven or twelve, she'd spent a lot of time in the library.  It was a nice, quiet place to do her homework, and a safe place to be when she didn't want to go home.  One day she'd found the book "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn."  She'd immediately fallen in love with the main character, a young girl named Francie who lived in squalor, but never stopped dreaming for a better life.  Her pre-adolescent fancy had decided she'd been named after the girl in the book and that they were kindred spirits.

 

She laughed now at such silliness.  Life was just what you were born into.  And what you made of it.  There was no grand destiny waiting for her.  If she wanted out of the misery she lived in now, she'd have to grab for it.  Nobody was going to give her anything - especially not her mother.

 

She sighed as she unlocked the door and walked into the apartment., unable to keep herself from sniffing for any telltale sign that dinner might be waiting for her.  Of course it wasn't.  It hadn't been in years.  Not since she was a little girl and her father had passed away.  She'd only been ten at the time, but she'd had to grow up fast.  The cancer that had taken her father had taken her mother as well.

 

She set her things down on the coffee table, automatically counting the number of beer bottles she had to move out of the way.  It was an evening time habit - her way to gauge how drunk her mother would be already.  A couple of bottles and they might share a sandwich or some soup, even talk a little.  Five or six bottles and she'd be spending the evening alone with the television.

 

There were three empties on the table.  Maybe tonight she'd be able to tell her mother about meeting John Gage and about the sweet thing he did by loaning her his camera.  She didn't know many guys who were nice just to be nice.  The men who hung around the complex were mostly dirty, and spent their time working on their cars and drinking beer.  They leered at her when she walked by, but mostly left her alone.

 

And then there was the apartment manager who hung around her mother, and who Francie occasionally found in the apartment when she came home.  He was a creep who didn't seem to care that he had a wife and three little kids at home.  She'd tried to talk to her mom about him only once and had discovered why they hadn't been charged late fees the times when rent was late.  After that she never brought his name up.

 

Francie shuddered.  She realized not all men were like the ones she lived around.  It just seemed like she'd never met any other kind.  Of course, in truth, she really didn't know that many guys at all. She'd never had time for much social life.  Not since she was fifteen and her mom sat her down and suggested she quit school and get a job so she could help "pull her weight."

 

It had hurt.  It was one of those times she'd felt outright hatred for her mother.  She'd loved school.  She was smart.  All her teachers praised her work.  Her counselor was helping her contact colleges to see what kind of financial help she might be able to apply for.  She'd had her heart set on taking writing courses and becoming a photo journalist.  Every adult she knew at Carson High School had been pulling for her.  The only adult in her life who didn't care about her dreams for college was the one person who should have cared the most.

 

She didn't protest.  She didn't argue.  She merely walked into the office the next day and withdrew from school.  But she didn't go home after that.  Instead, she'd gone to the park and sobbed.

 

That had been almost five years ago.  She'd grown since then, and she didn't cry much anymore.  She also realized it wasn't hatred she felt for her mom.  It was disappointment.

She walked down the hall to the single bedroom that contained two twin beds.  She could hear the small t.v. her mother was watching.

 

"Hi, Mom," she greeted as she pushed open the door.

 

The woman lying on one of the beds had been pretty in her youth, but grief and alcohol had aged her prematurely.  She lifted a limp hand when she saw Francie.

 

"Hi, baby.  Ya have a goo' day?"

 

Her speech was slurred, and the three empty bottles by the side of the bed told Francie why.  She'd brought the rest of her evening rounds into the bedroom.  Francie slumped in disappointment, but came over anyway and kissed her mother's forehead.

 

"My day was fine.  Same as always," she reported.

 

"Thas' goo'.  I wuz g'nna fix us s'me dinner, but I'm beat t'night.  Sorry, baby."

 

It was the same story every night.  Maggie Miller was always planning on fixing dinner, but somehow dinner never got fixed.  But Francie had expected that and gave her mother a smile anyway.

 

"That's okay, Mom.  I'll just grab a sandwich.  You want anything?"

 

"Nah.  I'm no' hungry."

 

"All right.  I'll talk to ya later."

 

She returned to the living room and spent a few minutes picking up.  She threw away the trash her mother had accumulated since she'd gotten home from her part-time job at Denny's. Then she rummaged in the kitchen for something to eat, settling on a tuna sandwich and a Pepsi.

 

She turned the t.v. to Jeopardy! and sat back to eat while she tried to see how many questions she could answer.  But instead of getting involved in the game show, her eyes fixed on the black cases.  She set down her paper plate and picked up the one that held the camera.  She ran her hand over it and wondered.

 

Terry had filled her ears with a lot of nonsense since Johnny had been at the studio.  Francie only put stock in about a third of it.  She remembered the big stories in the news when the firemen had disappeared, but she hadn't really followed it.  She believed that John Gage had been one of the killer's victims.  He'd pretty much acknowledged it when she told him about Terry's attitude.  Plus it would explain some of the way he acted.  Something had happened to him, that was for sure.  But she wasn't going to believe all the junk Terry had been telling her.  She'd wait and hear it from Johnny - if he wanted to tell her.

* * *

 

Anaheim, California

 

Keith shut his locker door and started buttoning up his uniform shirt.  He wasn't in a very good mood, but then he couldn't remember what one of those felt like.  All he knew was that he didn't want to be at work - a situation he didn't know how to explain.  The job was his life.  The department was his family.  All his working life there hadn't been a day go by that he wasn't happier on shift than off.  And now he found himself resenting having to come in.

 

It's Gage's fault.  Why couldn't he be a man and fight back?  Why didn't he stand up to that pervert?  Why didn't he die like Cal did?

 

And now the fag was home with his kid while Cal‛s boy was growing up without his dad.  Now the fag was with his friends while Cal‛s friends had to struggle each day to try and make sense out of his death.  Now the fag was hitting on a girl like he hadn't spent the last year and half letting that degenerate maggot touch him in ways Keith didn't even want to think about.

 

He has no right.  No right to just go back to his life.  No right to be happy.  No right to that girl.

 

He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the start of a headache.

 

Great... that's all I need.

 

"Hey, amigo."

 

Keith turned to see Paulo walk into the locker room.

 

Damn it... he‛s gonna start buggin' me.

 

The pain in Keith's head increased because Paulo was his friend, and he wasn't supposed to have these kinds of thoughts about his friends.

 

"You okay, hombre?  You don't look so good."

 

"I‛m fine, buddy.  Just fine."

 

Paulo opened his locker and started changing.  Hoping that was the end of it, Keith sat down to tie his shoes.

 

"You sure you don't wanna come to the stadium and watch the big fireworks show?  Everybody's going."

 

It took Keith a moment to figure out what Paulo meant.  Then he remembered the plans the guys had been talking about for the last few shifts.  Since they were off on the 4th, they were all taking their families to Angel Stadium on Tuesday to see the game, and watch the big fireworks display afterwards.  Keith should have remembered.  It was all Jasper had been talking about lately.

 

He shook his head.  "Nah.  I got other plans."

 

Paulo tucked his shirt in and sighed loudly.  "What plans, amigo?  We both know you're not doing anything else."

 

A few weeks ago Keith would have reacted to Paulo's word with a good natured come back.  But a few weeks ago Paulo wouldn't have had to ask him more than once to come with the guys and their families to the game.

 

But Keith didn't want to go to the game, and he didn't like being hassled about it, and he didn't like Paulo telling him his business.  So instead of the friendly banter that used to pass between them, Keith did what he's been doing more and more of lately.  He got angry.

 

"God damn it, Paulo, get off my back about it.  I don't wanna go."

 

He hated the heavy silence that hung between them, but he hoped it made Paulo drop the subject.  He didn't want to be mad at his friend.  Paulo was all he had left from before - from before Cal died, and from before Gage came back and everything fell apart.

 

He could see Paulo finishing getting ready.  Keith thought it might be better if he just left the locker room, but for some reason he couldn't make himself get up off the bench.  He sat there staring at the floor until he heard Paulo's locker close.  When he didn't hear his friend leaving Keith glanced up and saw Paulo standing there regarding him with concern written all over his face.

 

"Keith... amigo.... tell me what's going on with you.  I know this is about Gage."

 

Keith opened his mouth to deny his friend's statement, but Paulo held up his hand to silence him.

 

"I know," he said firmly.  "My friend Esteban, from 15's, he was at Jimbo's the other night.  He told me you were there with some guys from L.A. County.  He said all you were talking about was Gage."  Paulo's eyes narrowed.  "You gotta let it go, amigo.  Don't let it eat you up."

 

During Paulo's speech Keith had let his gaze focus on the floor again.  He knew his friend meant well, but as he listened he began to wonder just how much Paulo really understood.  He'd thought Paulo cared about what happened to Cal.  He thought Paulo felt like he did.  But it looked like he was wrong.  Taking a deep breath, Keith stood up and faced the engineer.  He tried to stay calm, but that wasn't what happened.

 

"Don't worry about me, man.  I'm fine.  Just because I don't want to hang out with all the kiddies at the ball game doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me.  And," he paused for emphasis, "tell your friend Esteban to mind his damn business."

 

With that, Keith stormed out of the locker room and into the bay.

 

Part 3