REVISITATION 

Edited 9/2012

By Caressa 

There is never a place for fear in high rescues.

As John Gage’s boots hung over the edge of the building, his mind was clear of troubling thoughts. After carefully surveying the scaffolding below, he quickly scanned the face of the building for obstacles to his descent. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned back toward the firefighters. He tightened the buckles of his lifebelt and leaned forward, accepting the line from his partner. Waving to the crew, the line went taut, and he leaned back into the pale blue sky, stepping from the edge without hesitation. 

There is a feeling of trust that remains undefined between the life at one end of a rope and those holding onto the other. John descended carefully, his thoughts occupied only by the mechanics of the rescue, his eyes sliding between the top of the roof and the unconscious worker lying on the scaffolding. Seeing the line was untwisted and smooth, his attention focused on his approach, judging the remaining distance to the victim. They lowered him swiftly and he easily matched their lead, descending the building as if he were walking on level ground.
 

*************
 

“Hey look, Todd. It’s the Spiderman of the Fire Department!”

Paramedic Rob Taylor squinted at the screen against the glare. “I think that’s your pal, Gage, up there! Awesome TV coverage, and if they mention his name, man, he’ll have all the chicks chasin’ after him for a change.” 

Todd Mitchell watched the firefighter’s figure lowered down the face of the high-rise building. “Yep, that’s him! Man, he has all the luck,” he joked, laughing with his partner. “When he sees this on prime time, we’re never gonna hear the end of it!”

Watching Johnny’s steady progress, they listened closely to the newscaster’s report. A window washer had collapsed on scaffolding twenty floors above the ground and Station 51 had caught the call. The men continued ribbing the on-screen firefighter. Rob started to comment further, but stopped mid-sentence when Todd stiffened, whispering under his breath.

“Oh, my God.... Johnny.”

Moving closer to the screen, they watched Gage falter and impact the side of the building. 

Todd shuddered as the picture abruptly blurred. The camera’s view plummeting downward, tracking a solid object toward the ground. Todd’s breath caught in his throat. The trapped air escaped from his lungs only after the camera focused in on a black helmet skittering along the pavement and then swiftly swung back up to the struggling firefighter.

“Did he slip?” Rob asked urgently. 

Todd’s face paled, his voice stressed as he answered, not even realizing he knew what had happened until the words left his mouth. 

“The rope.”

Taylor stood stock still at the two words, immediately understanding Mitchell’s reference. “It’s fraying. Just like it did on Kevin.”

Entering the lounge, Dixie’s smile fell when she read the apprehensive expression on the paramedics’ faces. “What’s going on?” she said, eyeing the television. “What’s wrong?”

Rob caught her eyes and pointed to the screen. “It’s happening, again,” he said quietly. “To Gage.”

Dixie stared at the screen in disbelief.  “But Roy told me they checked the ropes.  All of them.”

Unable to take his eyes from the drama playing out on the TV screen, Rob saw Johnny rebound off the wall. "They did, Dix. We all did." Rob fell silent as they watched Johnny desperately grasp at the rope's remains.
 

*************

Johnny didn’t know what hit him.

One second he was methodically descending, the next, crashing face first into the building. Stunned, he reached for the wall, attempting to steady the unsettled line. 

Shouts from above filled the air, pulling him from his momentary daze. Bracing against the wall, Johnny clutched the rope. The panicked pitch of the crew's calls sent his heart racing. Eyes darting up the line, he frantically searched for the cause of whatever had gone wrong.

No, he thought, his eyes locking on his rope. Fear jarred his mind, sending his heart pounding into his throat, its rocketing beat rising with the ringing in his ears. 

“A line! I need a line!” 

Johnny reached up the fraying rope, attempting to pull his weight above the unwinding threads popping nearly twenty-five feet above him. Watching the spindles give way, Johnny looked to the roof and climbed faster. Twenty-five feet, he thought, twenty-five too far.

Hand over hand he struggled against draining strength. Don’t look down, don’t look down, he thought, but couldn’t stop his eyes from shifting to the ground. The raw-edge of fear swiftly cut at his limbs, running a prickling chill over his body as if he’d been thrown into frigid water. Swirling memories of a falling body filled his mind. He wavered. The rope slipped swiftly through his gloved hands.

“Johnny! On your right!”

Roy's words cut through his spiraling thoughts. His body tense, his eyes slammed shut, Johnny gripped the failing rope tighter, arresting his downward slide. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off the wall. Jolting in mid-air, Johnny swung toward the new line dropping from above. Arm outstretched, fingers straining, he caught the carabiner and pulled it back to his belt.

Snap.

Outwardly quiet, inwardly deafening, the final tear of the line resounded in his head and Johnny felt temporarily frozen in mid-air. The sudden forceful dip shoved the sound from his thoughts. Buzzing filled his ears, bile burned his throat, and his mind heard the all too familiar thump of a body hitting the ground.

Blood. The metallic taste flooded his mouth. His mind reeled, filled with the image of Kevin's body crashing against solid ground. A sudden pain shocked his body when he slammed full force against the wall. I'm dead. I'm dead, he thought, as the line tore from his burning hands. 

Eyes wide, hands splayed, Johnny hung frozen at the end of the new line. As the motion waned, his eyes slid toward the ground.

In that vague instant between shock and action, Johnny stared down at the vacant space beneath him. Vast and open, the distance to the ground looked long and narrow, tunneling his line of sight to the cement below. The solid ground danced before his eyes as he hung, further eroding the ragged remains of his control. 

Johnny briefly raised a hand to rub his eyes, using the rough fabric of his glove to shield him from the dizzying height. Words wouldn’t form. Thoughts failed to assemble. All his mind could see was blood. 

His and Kevin’s.

Flowing in a crimson stream over the hot pavement below.
 

*************
 

The lounge was silent. There should have been massive relief when Todd, Rob, and Dixie saw the new line catch, but in their minds, Johnny had fallen, just as Kevin had. While none of them had personally witnessed paramedic Kevin Cory’s fall to his death, John’s accident had revived each person’s mental image of Kevin’s final moments.

Todd sat down on the couch, lowering his head to his hands and rubbing his eyes slowly. Staring back at the television, he rested his arms on his knees and dropped his chin to his clasped hands, silently hoping Johnny was all right. Sighing, Todd recalled Johnny’s vacant expression the day Kevin had been killed. The call had haunted all the rescue men, but Todd knew that Johnny, having been on the scene during the accident, was especially vulnerable, regardless of the outwardly stoic air he had managed to maintain following the call. 

Todd felt the same anxiety he had struggled with after Kevin’s accident stir, fueled by the image of John hanging from the swaying line.
 

*************

Gripping the new line with both hands, Johnny attempted to shake off the burning sensation in his arms. He could feel his heart beating to the throb in his head, and he swallowed the contents of his stomach. Johnny ran his tongue over his gums and finding his teeth intact, winced as he tentatively probed a gash cutting across the inside of his mouth.

“John, you okay?” the Captain’s voice yelled.

Johnny looked skyward and raising a hand in confirmation. Feeling the line pulling him upward, he pointed toward the victim on the scaffolding. He continued to gesture, unable to immediately trust his voice. I can finish what I started, he thought. 

The upward motion halted and he heard his Captain’s voice again. “You sure?” 

Johnny paused. “I’m okay!” he yelled, clearing his throat and looking up to the crew, his face a mask of determination.

There was no further comment, and the line slowly lowered the paramedic towards the victim. Johnny swung to the scaffolding, repeatedly checking the rope for any sign of defect. When his feet touched firmly down, he could feel the strain settle in his legs and back. 

“Slack! Two feet!” he snapped, drawing a deep breath to ease the involuntary shaking that had overtaken his body.
 

*************
 

Todd watched in relief as 51’s crew began to lower Johnny toward the unconscious worker. “He’ll be fine, now,” he said to Rob, tilting his chin towards the screen. At least I hope he will, he thought. Watching John step onto the scaffolding, he noticed, as only a close friend would, a slight hesitation before Johnny stooped to check the patient. Todd squinted at the screen, hoping the pause indicated relief, and not injury. 

Todd was startled when his HT summoned. “Squad 45, LA. What is your status?”

“Squad 45, available from Rampart,” Todd answered, immediately rising from his chair, knowing exactly where they were being dispatched.

“Squad 45, assist Engine 51, 2132 Camillia, cross street, Upland, for a possible Code I. Time out 14:55.” 

Handing off supplies to his partner, Todd glanced at the TV for one last look at his friend. Quickly making their way outside, the two paramedics broke into a run while Todd acknowledged the call, “Squad 45 responding.”

Todd jumped into the squad, barely waiting for Rob to replace the supplies and close the door before he pulled out of the bay towards the street. Reaching the exit, he flipped on the siren and floored the gas. 

The siren cut through the air, rising and falling in contrast to Todd’s steady acceleration. As they passed the first cross-street, Todd glanced at his partner. Rob’s left hand was outstretched, pressed forcefully to the dash and his right hand tightly clutched the door, both acting as braces against the turbulent ride. Pushing the limits of prudent speed, Todd pressed the squad faster, feeling a need to reach the scene quickly. 

First Kevin dies, Todd thought, then we almost lose Johnny. After this, he might not be able to do high-rescues. Hell, I wonder if any of us can. Clutching the wheel tighter, he attempted to push his worry aside. He focused on driving, the attention demanded by the speed of their flight temporarily subduing his mounting fear.
 

*************

Johnny willed his body to calm down. Breathing slowly, he teetered between achieving relaxation and provoking dizziness. He braced his hands against the rails, wincing at the burning sensation crossing his palms when he eased himself to his knees beside the worker. Ignoring the pain creeping into his arms, Johnny ran through an assessment of the man. As he ticked off each step of the survey, his concentration improved, and the involuntary shaking of his hands began to wane. Checking the victim's pulse, he noticed an oval bracelet on the man’s wrist. Turning it over, he nodded when he read, "Diabetic."

“Roy? He’s diabetic. I’m hookin’ him up!”

“You need help?”

“No! I’ve got it!” John answered. I gotta do this myself, he thought. 

Sitting back on his heels, Johnny scanned the patient’s body. His eyes strayed, settling unfocused on the bars of the scaffolding. Through his haze, he could see Kevin’s arms flailing helplessly as he fell, almost as though he was attempting to stall the inevitable impact. Damn, Johnny thought, forcing the image from his mind. Damn it Kevin, why now?

Ignoring the pervasive pain in his arms, Johnny slowly turned the patient to the side and slid the lifebelt around his waist. Only when the belt was securely in place did he examine the rope. Looks good, he thought, but they looked okay this morning, too. Unable to repress the anxiety picking away at his calm veneer, Johnny pulled firmly on the line. Doubt flooded his thoughts, leaving behind a prickling tightness in his chest. Trying to bolster his confidence, he tugged again on the rope, inspecting the line. A brief sense of relief eased his plaguing tension when he spotted another rope being lowered by the crew.

Roy yelled down, “We’re not taking any chances!”

Johnny was holding the second carabiner in his hand when Roy finished speaking. Staring at it for a moment, he dared what he had not since that fraction of a second when he had known, without a doubt, he was going to fall to his death. 

He looked down.

The instant reminder of the extreme height, coupled with the wide-open space, stirred a sense of vertigo.  A rush of pain charged into his chest.  Stop, he thought.  His eyes closed against the persistent picture of his dead friend.  Fighting the swirling images, Johnny drew in a heavy breath, then let it out slowly.  He looked skyward, and signaled the crew to raise them up.  Johnny concentrated on his breathing, then on the patient, trying to pull his thoughts from the physical openness, and a sense of vulnerability he had never felt before. 

The lines went taut, pulling on the lifebelts. Johnny supported the victim, straining to hold him upright until his line caught. Grimacing, he held his breath against sharp pain that lanced across his back and settled around his ribs. He tried to hold the man close to minimize the play on the lines, but was unable to steady the worker's limp body with his weakened arm. 

Eyes focused on the roof, Johnny began the ascent. He struggled to keep them balanced and away from the wall as the line slowly drew them toward the top. Halfway up, the man's body suddenly jolted. Reflexively flinching, Johnny collided with the wall, thinking for a fleeting moment he had lost the lines and was going to fall.  In the split second it took to react, he realized his mistake, and carefully pulled the man's shirt free from an exposed piece of metal.  He hung from the line, one hand on the rope, the other steadying himself against the wall.  Exhausted, he fought against his rising heart rate,  desperately trying to clear the haunting images that had once again overtaken his thoughts. 

Captain Stanley yelled down immediately, his voice edged with anxiety, “John?”

Johnny steadied his voice, yelling up to the crew, “Yeah, let’s go!” 

Regripping the line, he pulled the man closer, easing the pressure from his belt.  Repositioned, the pain in his back faded to a dull ache. I gotta get the hell off this building he thought.

The roof in sight, Johnny guided the victim to the waiting arms of the crew. Struggling to leverage the weight, he leaned back. Surprised by the flash of pain, his grip slipped. Roy quickly grabbed the man by the shirt, while Lopez steadied Gage's line, then both men were pulled over the edge to safety. 

*************

Hank Stanley rested a hand on Johnny's shoulder. “Hell of a job, John,” he said quietly. “You okay, pal?” 

Johnny swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice even. “Yeah, Cap. I’m fine.” 

“Take any more years off my life, Gage, and I’m gonna be in the negative numbers,” Stanley said quietly, pausing before he pulled his hand from John’s shoulder.

Johnny nodded, distracted by the distant sound of an approaching siren.

“Johnny?” Chet said, hitching his chin toward Johnny’s belt. 

“Oh,” Johnny said absently, attempting to undo the buckles.

“Got it, John,” Chet said, swiftly unbuckling the lifebelt from Johnny’s waist and detaching the carabiner.

Johnny walked over to the middle of the roof, away from the others. He leaned against an air conditioning unit, watching as Chet joined the truck crew to finish packing the equipment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marco coil a section of rope. 

Marco was unaware of Johnny’s presence, until a foot stepped on the frayed end of the defective line, halting his work.  He glanced up to see Johnny standing motionless beside him, his jaw firmly set, eyes unblinking, focused on the torn edge. 

Sensing the other firefighter was watching him, Johnny wrinkled his forehead and turned away. Gingerly removing his gloves, Johnny briefly examined his hands, then slowly walked toward his partner. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Roy called out, “Johnny, you all right?”

“Yeah,” John answered. “How’s he doing?” 

“Good. Lactated ringers did the trick. He’s ready to go.” Roy said, signaling to the ambulance attendants when they arrived on the roof.

Turning back to the patient, Roy firmly taped down the IV, mindful of his partner's silence. If Johnny had been pulled over the side of the building, raging about the faulty lines, ranting about the nature of the mishap, and full of zealous solutions to the Department's problems, Roy would have been vastly relieved.  Roy glanced at Johnny, the silence serving to foreshadow Johnny's inner unrest.  Roy wondered how badly Johnny was hurt, but understood any physical injury would be no match for the potentially debilitating grip of his near-fatal accident, so close on the heels of Kevin's death.  He knew Johnny had scrutinized the ropes in the morning.  He'd done it obsessively since the first accident, even after they'd been checked by someone else.  Roy believed if his partner couldn't find a defect in the ropes, there just wasn't one that could be found.  But regardless of Johnny’s careful inspection, there had been one. 

Stealing a fleeting glance behind him, Roy's concern deepened at Johnny's guarded movements, and strained expression. 

John slowly rubbed his forehead. The unrelenting tremor he had successfully dampened only minutes ago returned, adding to his headache. Wiping his face with his arm, he consciously slowed his breathing.  In his mind, he was kneeling next to Kevin's crumpled body. Swallowing against his unsettled stomach, he called impatiently to Roy.

“Ready?” 

“Ah, yeah,” Roy answered, eyeing John with concern. Turning back to the stretcher, Roy spoke quietly to the patient. The worker was conscious, but sleepy, the glucose having done its job. 

“Roy, why don’t you give John a quick once-over before we go down,” Stanley directed.

Johnny looked at his Captain through narrowed eyes, his expression betraying thinly disguised annoyance. I just want to get out of here, he thought. Sighing in protest, he awkwardly lowered himself down next to Roy, and slowly extended his left arm. 

Roy collected vitals in silence, attempting to appear indifferent to the tremor his partner seemed to be fighting to control.  

Johnny’s eyes were tightly closed and his jaw clenched shut, his mouth forming a thin line. 

“You feeling pain anywhere?” he whispered.

“There’s none,” Johnny answered flatly, “none at all."

Hesitating, Roy studied him intently. Torn between pressing the issue, and letting it lie quietly, Roy chose to maintain his silence. He felt awkward, but in the stillness of the moment, Roy sensed Johnny's uncharacteristic fragility.  Folding the BP cuff, Roy stood up, and called out, "He's okay, Cap. I think we're ready to go." 

The two paramedics followed the attendants to the stairs that led to the elevators on the floor below.  Roy watched Johnny's movement carefully, making note of his stiff, awkward posture, and slight limp.  He could see the abraisions from where he had hit the wall, and noticed Johnny's arms were carefully folded, seemingly protecting them from excess motion. 

Roy frowned in renewed concern. He always knew when Johnny was in pain. 

Only this time, he wasn’t really sure what kind of pain it was.
 

*************
 

Leaning against the back of the elevator, Johnny watched the men squeeze the stretcher into the small space. As the doors slid tightly closed, he was overcome by a sense of stifling confinement. The tension in his shoulders and neck grew, causing the ache in his head to intensify. Letting out a slow breath, he focused on the ceiling, attempting to ease his mounting discomfort.

The sudden drop came as no surprise, but the dull thunk of the jarring car caused him to flinch, sending a cutting chill over his body. Clamping his eyes shut, John grasped the railing firmly. With each hollow thud, his mind connected the noise with the image of Kevin falling. Over and over the sound played in his mind, and over and over his friend hit the ground, dying instantly before him. As the memory replayed, Kevin’s form slowly slipped way, replaced by his own, lying motionless on the ground. Johnny fought to block out the image, finally opening his eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the dogging pictures.
 

*************
 

After Todd parked the squad, he jumped out and heard the cheers of the spectators clustered outside the police lines. Scanning the roof, Todd realized Johnny was already up top. Exchanging a curious look with Rob as the clapping continued, Todd’s lips curled into a smile. Evidently I’m not the only one who’s relieved he survived this, he thought.

“Just the drug box, Rob. We’ll meet ‘em at the elevator,” Todd said.

Rob glanced at his partner, picking up on an unusual nervousness in Todd’s voice. Grabbing the drug box, he followed Todd into the lobby and dropped it at his feet.  He leaned against the wall to wait for 51’s crew.

Unable to keep still, Todd fidgeted with his keys, flipping them back and forth over his hand. Seeing Rob’s raised eyebrows, Todd stopped abruptly, shoving the keys into his pocket and focusing his eyes on the lighted bar above the elevator doors. Resisting an urge to crack his knuckles, Todd crossed his arms, lightly tapping his foot as he watched the lighted numbers count down.

“He’s fine, Todd,” Rob said quietly.

Todd nodded. Visions of the shredding line and Johnny's close call replayed in his mind. His nervousness increased in anticipation of what he would say to Johnny. 

I don’t know if I could have pulled it off, he thought, I can only imagine what must have gone though his mind.

While Todd was aware Johnny may have sustained serious injuries, his concern had been eased when Johnny had completed the rescue. Worried that he had no idea how to help Johnny deal with this accident, Todd struggled over what to say. Talking has never been my talent, he thought. Johnny was good at cutting right to the issue, but throughout his life, Todd had been never been able to shed the feeling of awkwardness when it came to dealing with anything remotely emotional. Todd had noticed that Johnny had been unusually tightlipped about Kevin’s death, avoiding any conversation that came close to discussing the fated rescue. It was clear to him that Johnny had never completely worked though the accident. Intuitively understanding more had occurred than Johnny admitted, Todd had always regretted not pushing the subject. He felt as though he had let Johnny down.

Giving in to his anxiety, Todd retrieved the key chain from his pocket. He resumed flipping it in his hand, ignoring his partner’s leveled stare.

When the elevator doors opened, Todd and Rob stood aside while the attendants maneuvered the stretcher into the lobby. Todd watched Johnny leaning against the rear wall of the elevator, looking pale and tense. 

Once the stretcher cleared the doors, Johnny pushed off the wall, propelling himself quickly through the elevator doors. Roy was right behind him, deep lines of worry etching his face.

Watching Johnny, Todd remained still, catching his partner’s arm as he moved forward.

“Wait,” Todd whispered, eyeing Johnny as he approached.

Roy caught Todd’s eye and shook his head slightly.

The gesture said it all. Chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, Todd studied Johnny’s expression as he passed by.  A sinking feeling settled in Todd’s stomach.  He had seen that look too many times before: wide-eyed, face frozen, robbed of expression.  The shocked mind jolted to a stand still by a close-up view of one’s own death.  Johnny’s downcast gaze seemed unable to meet the eyes of the living, his vision seemingly fixed on a recycling tape of disturbing images.  Todd looked to Roy, hitching his head toward Johnny.

Roy pointed to his own shoulders and lower back, tapping his cheek with his finger. Todd nodded and turned to catch up with Johnny.

“Johnny.”

It was a statement by a friend, a question, spoken in tacit understanding. 

John blinked as if to clear his vision. He looked at Todd for a long moment, then closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll be okay.”   Johnny spoke so softly that Todd had to lean closer to hear his words.

Todd lightly touched Johnny’s elbow, drawing his attention. “Ambulance is waiting.” 

Johnny stopped and looked at Roy, his silent question understood by his partner.

“You’d gonna go in the squad?” Roy asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“You’ll check him out, Todd?”

“Sure Roy,” Todd answered.

Roy nodded slowly, following the attendants pulling the stretcher.  He looked back briefly when the second elevator’s doors opened and Engine 51’s crew joined the paramedics. 

Johnny and Todd followed Roy through the lobby, flanked by the rest of the crew carrying the equipment. When Johnny walked through the doors, he stopped abruptly, startled by the sudden outcry of the crowd, clapping and waving.  Eyes wide, he scanned their faces, bewildered by the attention.  In slow motion, the faces loomed before him, each matching up with a brief memory from the month before.  Momentarily bombarded by images of Kevin’s funeral, Johnny fully expected to see his dress uniform when his eyes dropped to his sleeve.  At the sight of his bare arm, he shook his head, clearing the memory from his thoughts.  Feeling the prying eyes of the crowd, he tried to stand straighter, relieved when the crew formed a circle around him as they walked.

Stepping forward, Told shielded Johnny from an approaching news camera.  Last thing he needs, Todd thought.  He’s seeing it over and over anyway, no need for a thirty second newscast makin’ it worse. 

When Stanley broke away from their protective formation to talk to the television crew, Todd carefully guided Johnny toward the squad.

"Johnny, sit here. I'll get the equipment." Todd pulled open the passenger door and waited for him to sit down. 

"No." 

Todd's eyebrows drew tightly together. "Johnny, we both know you're hurt." 

"Roy already checked me out."

"We let you get away without the ambulance. But you know Roy only took vitals and is trusting me to do the rest." 

Johnny looked at Todd for a moment, then sat in the squad. He tipped his head toward the driver's seat. "Let's go. I'm okay." 

Todd watched Johnny closely, knowing he should insist on getting another set of vitals, and check for injuries. Plagued by indecision, Todd struggled between his duty as a paramedic and the need to be friend.  Figuring Johnny's inflexibility would be impossible to break, Todd shut the passenger door, and headed to the driver's side.  After starting the engine, he picked up the mic, and held in in his hand.  Looking at Johnny, he knew that Roy wouldn't have let him get away with this.  You better be okay, Todd thought. Sighing in defeat, he keyed the mic. 

"Squad 45, ten-eight to Rampart," he said. Glancing at Johnny again, Todd sighed, and pulled out behind the ambulance. 
 

*************

The ride was relatively silent, until they arrived at Rampart. Todd parked, cut the engine and pocketed the keys.

“Johnny, I need Roy’s assessment. For Brackett.” Todd waited for an answer, but all Johnny did was turn his head to look out the window.

“Johnny? Brackett will have my hide if I walk in with nothing.”

“142/84, 110, 20,” he answered in a voice devoid of emotion.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulders, back, my head’s pounding.”

Todd nodded, recalling Roy’s unspoken evaluation. “Anything else?”

With a brief shake of his head, Johnny looked at Todd, as if he were going to speak.  Instead, he looked down at his hands and lightly ran a finger over the red, peeled skin crossing his palm.

Todd sat forward expectantly, wishing he could find the words to release Johnny’s thoughts.  

John shifted in his seat, and looked out the window again. He sat quietly for a long moment, then absently shook his head at some unspoken thought.  He tried once more to look at Todd, only to turn away the moment he met his friend's eyes.

“Johnny?” Todd prodded.

Carefully considering his words, Johnny answered slowly, “I can’t believe I lived ... and I can’t believe Kevin died.”

Todd nodded silently.

“I never closed my eyes, Todd.”

Todd’s eyes widened in comprehension. 

“When Kevin....” 

“...hit the ground,” Johnny finished.

Like a dark cloud, silence hung ominously overhead.  Todd sat with his eyes closed, only now comprehending how horrific the accident had been for his friend. He looked up when he heard John’s quiet voice.

“I didn’t close my eyes. Or turn away.  He landed maybe twenty feet in front of me,” Johnny said, meeting Todd’s startled gaze. “It’s what I’ve been seein’ this whole rescue.”

My God, Todd thought, why didn’t I catch this before?

“I can’t do this job anymore, Todd,” Johnny said quietly.

“Johnny,” Todd whispered, “this....”

“I checked that line myself, Todd. It was fine. I’m willing to take risks, but man, this... this was just way too much…to expect from anyone. I just don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

Shaking his head, Johnny turned away. In his mind, he could see the line running through his hands when he had carefully inspected it only hours before.  I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. There was nothing to be found.

“You can’t say that now. The department will figure this out. You’ll be okay, I know you will.”

“I can’t even think about it,” Johnny’s mouth formed a straight line. “Not now.” 

Todd remained silent, knowing there was nothing more he could say. Sitting patiently, he tried to decide the best thing to do. Uncomfortable and unable to think of the right words, he continued to sit quietly, slouching into his seat. Resisting an urge to fidget, he watched Johnny closely. Todd noticed the fine tremor of Johnny’s hands as he ran them over his face, fighting to control his beaten body.

Todd couldn’t help but turn away, working to hold back his own rising emotions. The whole scenario had been too frightening. He sighed heavily, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. 

“Let’s go, Johnny,” he said quietly, “they’re waitin’ for you.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, Johnny slowly pushed open the door.  The conversation was safely closed.
 

*************
 

When Roy arrived with the worker, Brackett listened carefully to the paramedic’s report. 

“Okay, guys,” he said to the attendants, “take him in two. The nurse is waiting. I’ll be right in.”

Clearly concerned, Brackett asked, “Roy, where’s Johnny?”

Roy hesitated, “He’s coming in with Todd Mitchell in Squad 45.” 

Brackett eyed Roy closely. “He’s coming in with Mitchell? In the squad? Dix said he was injured.” 

Rob Taylor overheard the conversation as he walked into the ER and handed 51’s keys to Roy. “Johnny and Todd are outside, Doc.”

Seeing Brackett’s frown, Roy added quickly, “Johnny’s pretty shook up, Doc.  After Kevin, you know?  None of us can believe this happened again.” 

“I can understand that, Roy. From the sound of it, I thought he might have been hurt pretty badly.”

Pausing, Roy explained in a quiet, serious tone, “You know Johnny. He wanted to go in the Squad.  I... well, I got the feeling he needed to get away from the reminder of what almost happened.”

“What was he like at the scene?”   

Suddenly uncomfortable, Roy answered, “His vitals were a little high, but reasonable under the circumstances.  Looks like he might have some ortho issues.  He’s protecting his arms and his back.  He’s on edge, Doc, and Todd said he’d check him out.  If anything was wrong, he’d have Johnny in here right away.” 

Brackett nodded in understanding. “I was wondering how this would sit with him. I’m concerned, Roy. It sounds like he took quite a hit.” 

Brackett considered what to do next. “Mitchell,” he stated under his breath, frowning. “Okay, page me when they’re in. If Johnny’s not in here within five minutes, Roy, go get him.” 

“Sure, Doc.” Roy answered quickly, watching Brackett nod and walk briskly to Treatment Room Four.

*************

Dreading his impending reception, Johnny walked stiffly towards the ER entrance. Just leave me alone and let me sleep, he thought, dragging his suddenly heavy body across the bay. Johnny paused, squaring his shoulders as if preparing himself for the stir he instinctively knew his arrival would cause. 

Todd walked closely behind, stopping when Johnny paused at the ER doors and looked back at him. 

“You want me run interference, Johnny?”

Johnny shook his head. “No, but thanks.”

“You bet.”

The doors swung open and John Gage slowly walked through, looking tired and pained, but very much alive.  The conversations in progress ceased abruptly, and all eyes turned towards him.  He paused, the lull serving as a firm hand to his chest, halting his progress. 

Noting his discomfort, Dixie waved the staff away and swiftly approached him. She wrapped her arm around his waist in an effort not only to provide comfort, but also to support his weakened body.  Seeing Todd, she signaled to him and pointed toward Brackett’s treatment room, before gently urging Johnny forward.

“We’ll head for Treatment Three, okay, Johnny?” she said, attempting to guide him toward the door.

Noticing his grateful expression, she could feel the tension leave him. He didn’t move, however, and she was surprised when a slight smile lit his weary face.

Man,” he whispered, “I got a better reception from the crowd at the office building, and I didn’t even know any of them.”

She laughed softly, but saw that Johnny’s smile quickly disappeared. Guiding him to the treatment room, Dixie could feel Johnny’s gait growing unsteady as they walked.  Once inside, she assisted him onto the exam table.  As she began to help him remove his uniform shirt, his hand gripped hers. 

“Johnny?” she asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

“You’re always there for me,” he whispered. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

Surprised by his candid disclosure, Dixie tipped her head and studied his face.  Eyes set on his, she saw Johnny’s gaze waver.  Watching him struggle to conceal his distress, she could feel a dull ache expand in her throat, breaking her normal reserve.  Dixie couldn’t place all of the emotions she read in his pained expression, but one was unmistakable: grief. 

Rendered silent by the realization, she leaned forward and hugged him gently.  Holding him closely, she could feel John lean into her.  Her eyes closed tightly, attempting to restrain her unsettled emotions, set free when Johnny wearily dropped his head to her shoulder, unable to raise his pained arms in return. 

*************

“What happened, Todd?”

“Well, Doc,” Todd said nervously, “you know he lost the line, like Kevin. Slammed into the wall, but made it over to a new one. He hit hard twice, but really got bounced around on the lifebelt the final time. He’s guarding his shoulders. He complained about his back, shoulders, and a headache.”

“What did you find on the exam?”

Todd bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes. “Well...,” he started, “...ah, Johnny..., ah.”

“Mitchell, don’t tell me you didn’t even check him out?”

Todd looked up. Guilty, he thought.

Dr. Brackett folded his arms and sighed.

“Look,” he said kindly, “I know this has jarred everyone, but you have an obligation as a paramedic to ensure the patient’s safety and expedite care. Even when that patient is a good friend.”

Todd studied the tiled floor. After a brief moment he met the Doctor’s eyes. “You’re right, Doc, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk later,” Brackett said, pushing open the treatment room door.

Can’t wait, Todd thought, watching the door shut firmly behind the physician. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Todd headed for the nurse’s station to join Roy.

*************
 

Her troubled expression tipped him off immediately.

Brackett held out his hand, accepting the chart Dixie had just finished updating.  Reading the vital signs she had collected, he immediately moved to Johnny’s side.

“John? How are you feeling?”

“Not too great,” Johnny answered, his voice uneasy and tight.

“What’s going on?” he asked, noticing the tense set of John’s face.

Johnny glanced at Brackett, his eyebrows drawing tightly together. Provoked by the simple question, myriad thoughts raced into his mind, suddenly confusing him. Seeking control, he averted his eyes without speaking.

Brackett cast a questioning look at the nurse.

Dixie shook her head, then pointed. “Check out his right flank, Kel.”

Brackett lifted up the sheet, drawing it down to Johnny’s hip. Running his hands over Johnny’s waist, Brackett searched for signs of injury. Dark purple streaks ran over his right side and back, tracing, Brackett surmised, the margins of his lifebelt. Feeling Johnny’s muscles tighten, Brackett looked at John’s face. Pain seems bad, he thought.

“Johnny,” Brackett repeated, leaning closer, “tell me what’s happening.” 

Johnny swallowed hard, pushing back the heavy nausea that had settled in his stomach the moment the pain cut into his back. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes, trying to keep his stomach in place.

Brackett watched John’s eyes close tightly and his face drain of color. Johnny’s face was raw from abrasions and a peculiar pattern of bruises was beginning to form. Dr. Brackett’s concern deepened with each observation. “John, I need to know what’s going on.”

Johnny’s breathing increased with Dr. Brackett’s insistent tone. Brackett’s voice echoed in his head and the room felt suddenly small. Overwhelmed, he felt his emotions stir as the pain tapered away. Sadness rose in his chest and a smothering pain lanced at his throat, capturing his breath. Feeling suddenly defenseless, he looked away.

Surprised by the pervasive silence settling in the room, Dr. Brackett moved slightly aside when Dixie leaned down, lining her face up with John’s.

“Johnny? You okay?” Dixie whispered, her hand lightly resting on his chest.

A slight nod was his only reply. 

“Sure?” she asked, moving closer.

“Yeah.” 

“How’s the pain?”

“Better.”

“Just in your back?”

“Yeah. Right side.”

Dixie placed her hand in his, her eyes sliding up to meet Brackett’s when John’s fingers closed lightly over hers.

“Rest, Johnny,” she said softly, “ Kel will fix you up in no time.”

Brackett watched the exchange quietly, the all-encompassing stillness leaving him uneasy. Johnny’s quiet manner, the pain, and his vitals all signaled trouble.

“Doc,” Johnny suddenly whispered breathlessly, “muscle spasms... my back....” He broke off as the pain overtook him, and just when he felt as if he would cry out, it abated, but the dull familiar flank pain remained. 

As Johnny began to relax, Joe Early walked into the room, immediately concerned. “Johnny, it’s Joe. You can’t imagine how glad I am to see you. We were all quite worried.”

Dixie noted the slow, kind tone and sincere concern in Joe’s voice. Watching Johnny relax, she smiled when his eyes slowly opened. 

“Better, John?” she asked in a soothing tone.

“Yeah,” he replied, letting out a slow steadying breath.

“Kel,” Joe said, “I need a surgical consult in four, would you mind if I take over here?”

Brackett hesitated. “Sure,” he said, silently signaling for Joe to follow him out of earshot. “He’s got some significant bruising around his waist and episodic pain in the right flank, possibly indicating internal injury. Based on the mechanism of injury, we need to rule out rib fractures and possibly kidney trauma. Look at these vitals, Joe,” he said, handing him the chart, “something’s up.  He’s not talking, and I have the feeling it’s not just pain that’s keeping him quiet.” 

Joe nodded thoughtfully.

Brackett leaned in close. “Based on that and what Mitchell and DeSoto told me, it’s clear he’s pretty upset, Joe. I misjudged the level of emotional distress he’s experiencing over this incident, and well,” he sighed, “I’m sure you’ll tread carefully. This whole thing seems to have pushed him over the top.”

“Understandable,” Early answered, eyeing Johnny.

Dr. Brackett nodded, “I never thought much got to him, Joe.  John’s always so resilient, even in the worst of situations.”

“Everyone has limits, Kel. Maybe living through this twice was too much to ask.  I can’t imagine what it’s like be there when a friend dies as violently as Kevin did, and then barely escape the same fate only weeks later.”

“I’ll be back after I evaluate your patient. What have you got in Four?”

“Looks like a rule-out appendix, I’ve sent bloodwork for an beta-HCG and Chem15,” Early paused. “I’ll let you know what I find here.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Brackett said. “Call me if you need help.” 

Dr. Early returned to Johnny’s side, glancing at Dr. Brackett’s notes. “John, I’m going to check you over.  I need you to let me know if there are any other symptoms that might help us out.” 

Johnny nodded, feeling the fuzzy edges of sleep beginning to overtake him. When his eyelids touched down however, another wave of intractable back pain broke though causing him to twist under the Doctor’s hands. Dr. Early ordered Dixie to get a new set of vitals.

“John, is the pain in the same area?” the doctor said quickly, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Yeah,” Johnny managed to spit out, his back arching with the pain as he desperately tried to move into a comfortable position. “It’s different . . . though. . .” he said, beginning to relax as the pain waned, “not muscle. . . deep in my back….maybe kidney?”

Joe answered, “You could be right, John. It could be a rib or your kidney. I saw a tape of the rescue. The belt you wore is wide and covered your lower back.  I remember you were on your back when you fell and twisted to your side on the new line. The bruising pattern around your waist confirms it.”

Johnny’s eyes flew open at the explicit reference to the accident. “Is there anyone who didn’t see me up there?”  He said, his annoyance clearly evident. Shaking his head, he pinched his eyes shut. 

Reading Johnny’s expression, Dr. Early prodded, “John?”

“Doc..., I don’t know.... I’m...,” he paused, “I’m kind of wishing the whole thing hadn’t been aired in public.  Like I was on display. I don’t know what the rescue looked like, what I looked like.  From the stares I‘ve gotten so far, I’m beginning to feel like everyone in LA has seen me in my underwear.”  Johnny’s face was flushed, his expression revealing his anxiety.

“To the contrary, John, LA has seen you in your finest hour.”  He paused, registering Johnny’s confused expression.  “What the public saw up on that building was skill, grace under fire, and,” moving closer, he locked eyes with Johnny, “unparalleled courage.” 

Johnny could see Dixie slowly nodding her head from behind the doctor, her expression confirming her agreement.

“I was terrified.” 

Doctor Early watched Johnny shake his head and turn away. He touched John’s arm lightly, retrieving his attention. When Johnny looked up at him again, he said, “If you weren’t afraid, John, then we’d have something to worry about.  Keep in mind that you may have felt anxious, but you functioned regardless.   The fact that you are here is a testament to your skill and bravery.  Remember that the courageous feel the fear, and do the job anyway.”   Early leaned back, looking at the paramedic through squinted eyes. “But you knew that, Johnny, didn’t you? That’s why you finished the rescue, when I’m sure all you really wanted was to find a piece of solid ground. What made the difference is your ability to control your fear, think clearly on the fly, and have the courage to follow through.”  Dr. Early looked closely at John, waiting for a reply.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said quietly, unable to clear his thoughts of Kevin’s accident. 

“Don’t thank me, John.  It wasn’t a compliment.  Just the truth.” The doctor held his gaze a moment longer, confused by the sadness suddenly lining the paramedic’s face. 

Writing in the chart, Joe Early continued, “I’m going to order some tests to check out your kidneys. We’ll get a full set of X-rays and an ortho consult for your arms.  I suspect that there’s some muscle damage and possibly some ligament damage as well.  I don’t know if it will mean PT or surgery, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.  Dix will give you something to help your back, hopefully preventing any more severe spasms.   If spasms return when you are upstairs, ring for nursing immediately.  I want you to rest, and you won’t if you are fighting episodic pain.” 

Sinking back into the pillow, Johnny sighed heavily, exhaustion overwhelming him. Though desperate for sleep, Johnny fought to keep his eyes from closing.  At the back of his mind was the certainty that if he slept now, he would fall.  Over and over and over.  He stared at the ceiling, attempting to hold the haunting images at bay.

Pausing at the treatment room door, Doctor Early motioned Dixie to his side as he observed John’s fixed gaze. “I wrote for a sedative once the skull series is found to be negative. I don’t want him dreaming,” he whispered, “and I know he won’t go to sleep. We’ll have to keep a close eye on him. This is a lot to overcome alone.”

“Thanks, Joe, I think you’re just what Johnny needed.” She smiled gratefully.

Joe Early nodded, a dark expression crossing his face, “He’s been through an incredible ordeal. I always knew he had to deal with some hazardous situations, but that tape was an eye opener for me. Not only as to the situations these guys deal with, but also the depth of strength and mettle they're really made of.” 

Shaking his head in amazement as he stepped out the door, Joe Early whispered to himself.

"Unbelievable.” 

*************
 

“You look pretty unscathed.” 

“Yeah,” Todd replied, leaning against the counter and accepting a coffee cup from Roy. “Brackett wanted to, ah, talk to me about Johnny.”

Roy stood quietly, staring at the treatment room door. Lifting the cup to his mouth, he took a sip, then shook his head, laying the cup on the counter.

“Bad?” Todd asked, looking at the discarded cup.

“Cold.” Roy answered, shifting his feet. “How is he?”

“Like we’d expect, I guess.”

“How’s his back?”

“Don’t know.”

Roy nodded, glancing briefly at Todd.  He suddenly understood the reason Brackett had appeared momentarily displeased with Todd. 

Todd squirmed at Roy’s long silence. “I dropped the ball, I know.”

Roy said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the treatment room door.

“I guess I was acting more like a friend, and forgot to be a paramedic first.”

Roy nodded, swinging his gaze to Todd, “At the moment, it was what he needed.” Roy paused, eyes again fixed on the door. “No blood, no foul,” he whispered.

Todd fingered the keys in his pocket. “Thanks, Roy.”

“It’s okay. And as for Brackett, he knows this is rough, that’s why the ‘talk’ was over in seconds.”

“He said we’d talk later.”

Roy smiled. “Yeah, well, don’t worry. He’s the one doctor who understands our job.  He’ll just tell you what to do next time.” Roy’s expression darkened. “But hopefully, there is no next time.”

The door remained closed. Roy stood motionless, immersed in thought. 

Todd, unable to remain still, pushed off the counter and pulled his keys from his pocket, flipping them over in his hand.

Roy’s hand shot out after a moment, halting the jangling keys.

Todd looked at him briefly and settled back against the counter. “I’m worried, Roy. Worried that he might not be able to make it back.”

“I know, Todd,” he said quietly, “me too.”
 

*************
 

The dreams had stopped once he was discharged from the hospital. Revived by restful sleep at home, Johnny hadn’t realized how lucky he had been for the last two weeks.

Until last night.

It was a dream familiar to most children. Falling helplessly though endless space, the child would be startled into consciousness at the last moment, often to the comforting hand of a loved one.

But when Johnny was startled awake at four a.m., no one was there to soothe his ragged nerves. Sweat ran off his body in cool lines and his heartbeat echoed loudly in his chest. His was a familiar dream.  And after staring down almost 20 stories to the pavement, his dream always ended the same. 

In pain.

As he hit the ground.

Lying still and silent, his eyes focused on the smooth white swirls of the ceiling.  As his heart rate eased back to normal, an uncomfortable restlessness replaced the fervor of the dream’s frightening moments.  After tossing and turning for hours, Johnny gave up shortly before six. He pulled his tired body off the twisted sheets and headed for the shower.

Steam floated lazily across the ceiling, filling the bathroom with a billowy white haze.  Hot water pelted his body, easing the knots his muscles had accumulated during his restless night.  Reluctant to lose the soothing heat permeating his aching body, Johnny inched the temperature higher, raising his face to the steady stream.  The pain and stiffness he awoke to each morning eventually wound down to a dull ache.  Understanding that no amount of hot water would erase the plaguing discomfort, Johnny sighed in resignation.  He turned off the shower and pulled a towel from the rack.

Hair dripping onto the kitchen table, Johnny stared absently out the window, slowly turning his untouched coffee in his hands. Unable to figure out the source of his unsettled feelings, he stood abruptly. Another hour, he thought, and headed back to the bathroom to dress.

Faded purple lines were all that was left of the marks marring his face. Johnny examined his reflection closely, unable to match the bruises with memories of those brief moments.  Scattered images of hitting the wall and the shredding line ran though his head, but the only memory that remained intact was the clear view down to the pavement.  Johnny shook his head, dispelling the image. 

Reaching for his button-down shirt, he suddenly cast it aside and pulled a blue T-shirt from a small pile of clothes. Unsure if he was willing to face the struggle of pulling it over his head, Johnny turned the T-shirt over in his hands, stalling when he read the insignia printed on the front. LACoFD, Paramedic. 

The silk-screened words stuck in his head. He had worn the shirt off-duty countless times.  I can’t wear it, he thought, wondering if he’d ever feel comfortable putting it on again. Casting the shirt back into the pile, Johnny pulled out a plain gray one. He slipped an arm into the sleeve, contemplating how he was going to put on the shirt. Even though weeks had passed since the accident, his arms still ached and his range of motion remained limited, making the simple task a lengthy project. Repeatedly cursing himself for not wearing the button down shirt, Johnny finally managed to pull the T-shirt over his shoulders on his third attempt to reach the fabric. Retrieving his coffee cup from the kitchen table, Johnny picked up his keys and headed for his appointment.

Johnny’s pace slowed the closer he got to the door. Sighing, he read the sign for the countless time since his release from the hospital.  Physical Therapy.  Dread settled cold and heavy around his stomach and he paused, considering whether or not to make an excuse and cancel his appointment. He shoved away the thought, resigned not to give in to his rapidly darkening mood.  Pushing open the door, he threw his jacket on the hook and headed for an empty bench to start his routine.

“John, don’t forget, same number of repetitions. Both sides.”

Relieved at hearing Kate Gordon’s voice, Johnny smiled, thankful she would be guiding him today.  Tough but kind, Kate was one of John’s favorite physical therapists.  Always quick to point out improvement, Kate made the small steps feel like great achievements.  The therapy was arduous and progress was slow, at times fueling his normal impatience into a barely manageable frenzy that was eased only by Kate’s steady encouragement.

Kate pointed to the bench, and Johnny nodded, picking up the weights. Concentrating on keeping the motions smooth, John let his mind wander, attempting to ignore the intensifying burn in his shoulders and upper arms.  He continued to raise the weights, straining against the load.  His face drew into a grimace and his hands began to quiver under the barbell’s weight.

Feeling the light tap of her hand on his wrist, Johnny let out a frustrated breath and opened his hands automatically, allowing Kate to retrieve the weights and set them on the rack.

“Pretty good, John. That’s five more pounds than Monday.”

“Yeah, thirty pounds, wow,” he said, shaking his head negatively. “My air tank weighs more than that.”

“Johnny,” Kate sighed. “It’s only been three weeks since the injury. This is great progress. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it, again....”

“I know, I know. ‘It won’t happen overnight.’ ”

Kate sat beside him and John felt her hand rest lightly over his. “You seem bothered today,” she said.

Johnny averted his gaze from her face, unable to piece together what had been picking at him since he woke up.

“John,” she said, “over the next few weeks, we’ll be adding weight. Another four weeks and you’ll be ready to go back to work,” she smiled and added, “doing all that macho rescue stuff.”

He laughed slightly, but his smile was unconvincing.

“Really, John, you’ll be hanging from those ropes in no time.” Kate elbowed him playfully, freezing in place when she saw his expression fall. 

Johnny looked over at the rack, avoiding her steady gaze. The words had sliced the air, cutting through him like a sharp blade, setting his troubled emotions free in an unguarded moment.  Johnny struggled to appear unaffected.  Unable to meet Kate’s eyes, Johnny feared revealing emotions that he hadn’t known existed, until her inadvertent comment had driven them to the surface.

“Johnny?” she said, lightly touching his elbow.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to joke about it.”

Nodding, he attempted to smile, working to find his voice amidst the turmoil.

“John.” She said, drawing his eyes. “You’re having a hard time with this, huh?”

“No,” he replied, turning away, “I’m just fine.” Incapable of subduing his rising emotions, Johnny stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow,” he said and quickly headed for the door.
 

* * * * * * * *

Today is the day, he thought.

It had been seven weeks since the accident on the building. Five days in the hospital had passed quickly, but six weeks of rehabilitation had dragged on, complicated by the specter of returning to work. At the end of physical therapy, he was buoyed by new-found energy.  If not for the lingering fear of returning to high rescues, a fear he kept closely guarded, Johnny would have said his recovery was complete.

He had seven days left to find out if it was true. Seven days to figure out if he could ever return to the job again.

The clock’s tick caught his attention. Thirty minutes, he thought. Only a half hour left until he met up with Todd and he stalled, finding odd items to shuffle and reshuffle in his kitchen under the guise of picking up. He knew he needed to retrieve his equipment and get going, but the heaviness filling his chest held him back. Stealing a quick look at the closet, Johnny turned back to wash a cup in the sink. 

The door had remained closed for six weeks in an attempt to hide the gear he had hastily thrown there shortly after his release from the hospital.  A constant reminder of the two accidents, the climbing gear was deliberately moved out of sight early on. Johnny was vastly relieved when the closet door closed on the emotions stirred each time the equipment caught his eye.

Sitting down at the table, Johnny rested his chin on his clasped hands. With his elbows set firmly on the kitchen table, Johnny’s eyes slid once again from the closet door to the clock on the wall.  He slowly rubbed his temples, deep in thought.  Pushing off abruptly, he stood and approached the closet, his eyes never leaving the door.

The handle was cool to the touch and slid easily in his sweaty palm. Closing his eyes tightly, he swallowed against his churning stomach and grasped the knob. The door suddenly seemed heavy and large, and he could feel his breath quicken as he slowly turned the handle.

Unsure of what would happen when the door opened, Johnny paused for a long moment. The shadow of the accident loomed heavily, and he fought to quiet his racing mind.  Heart beating in his throat, he grasped the handle tighter,  fighting an urge to retreat from the shadow he was sure would leap upon him the second the door was flung open.

Shaking slightly, Johnny stepped back, yanking open the door.

A prickling chill ran over his limbs and he dropped his hand to his side. Feeling fleetingly foolish, he shook off his uneasiness and stared into the near-empty space. Hanging to the side was his formal dress uniform. He ran his hand thoughtfully over the deep blue cloth and sighed. No one needed to tell him how close he had come to wearing that jacket for the final time. 

He dropped the sleeve and sinking down to a crouch, he traced the line of the uniform to the floor, surveying the hastily arranged climbing gear lying toward the back. Expecting a flood of memories, he was surprised by his quiet thoughts. Reaching for the coiled rope, he noticed the slight tremor of his hand. He bunched his fingers into a tight fist, and scanned bthe gear.  I can’t do it, he thought, I just don’t think I can. 

Reaching again for the tightly wound rope, he shrugged off his anxiety and threw the coil over his shoulder, leaning in to grab a harness.  Drawing a deep breath, he closed his eyes, clearing his mind.  As he hauled the gear outside, he recalled snippets of conversations he and the crew had shared since the accident.  Having initially avoided the subject, he eventually relented, and now admitted that the conversations had steadily chipped away at the damaging emotions he had bottled up for so long.  The epiphany had come in increments, building in small moments of clarity to a final realization of what truly led to his survival:  luck, training, and self-control.  Thinking back to that day, he remembered feeling the burden ease when the final piece was laid in place. 

Walking toward the parking lot, John recalled Roy’s description of the rescue. What had stuck with him was the timbre of his partner’s voice describing the moment the line gave way.  While his tone had been relatively even, occasional hesitations exposed the cloaked emotion Roy had experienced in those few seconds. 

Fear. 

It was a revelation to Johnny, finally recognizing that fear had not been an emotion he solely owned that day, and that the terror of what had gone wrong was shared by all the crew, marring each of them in a personal way. At that moment, the weight of his own fear was lifted and he understood that the lingering anxiety was not a flaw in his ability to cope, but a reaction to the overwhelming situation he had been unwittingly thrust into. 

So why am I still having a hard time? he thought, tossing the ropes in his truck.

Thinking of Kevin, he felt relieved that he was finally able to remember his friend as he lived, as opposed to reliving how he died.   Sighing, he understood how far his thoughts had traveled in the past few weeks. In some way, he liked to think that Kevin had been there with him as well, protecting him from that horrible fate.  The reality, he recognized, was that if the timing of the two incidents had been reversed, then he wouldn’t have known that he needed to save himself, and in hesitating, he would have perished, just as Kevin had. 

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he dropped his head to his chest. The thought of climbing loomed ominously, and while he could reason out his feelings, he knew that the uncontrollable emotions conjured by the climb could be the final signature ending his career as a paramedic. 

At least I’ll know whether it’s over or not, he whispered, the knot in his chest slipping up to his throat. He slammed the truck’s door against the thought and started the engine. 
 

************* 

Johnny kept his back to the edge, turning around only after the gear was in place. 

The rope he held in his hands felt heavier than its weight and Johnny fought with his unsettled emotions, skipping haphazardly like stones skimming an unsettled pond. Fear of falling competed with anxiety over losing his career.  A career, he admitted, that had become an integral part of his identity. 

Peering over the cliff, he immediately recalled that first glimpse down the building he had unwisely taken after his near-fatal accident. His throat tightened and an overpowering sense of vulnerability stole his breath, just as it had that day.  He blinked, consciously tightening his grip on the lines. 

“Slack!” he said, calling up the brief distance to Todd. 

The lines loosened slightly and finding his foothold, he began to descend steadily. The ledge was somewhat difficult for a first test of his health, but he welcomed the distraction of the physical intensity. Occasionally, Todd would call down to check on his progress. 

“Quit worrying, Mitchell, if I freeze or fall, you’ll know it!” Johnny laughed as he rappelled lower, finally starting to feel somewhat comfortable. 

If he had thought it through, perhaps he would have picked an easier climb, but Johnny knew he needed the challenge, not for his body, but for his mind. When he chose this particular cliff, Todd had balked, judging it to be too difficult for his first time out.  But Johnny had convinced him, letting him know he felt the challenge was necessary to chase off his jitters. 

“If it’s easy Todd,” Johnny had explained. “I’ll be pretty shocked at the real thing.  I need to get into trouble and know I can still get out of it okay.” Todd had relented, but now regretted the decision as he watched Johnny lose his footing and slide off the edge of a steep outcropping. Todd pulled back on the safety line, ready to fully brake if Johnny didn’t catch himself. John hung perfectly still for a full minute before recovering to resume his descent in silence. When he met Todd at the bottom, Johnny acknowledged the slip up. “Don’t look so worried Todd, you can’t expect perfection on the first run.” 

Todd looked at him thoughtfully, “You made it, Buddy.  And today, that is perfection.” 

After resting and having a bite to eat, the two men rechecked their gear. Todd stood over Johnny while he gathered his equipment. Johnny seemed more at ease, but his persistently quiet demeanor made Todd uncomfortable, leaving him unsure of how to continue. 

“Johnny, you lead on the way up, okay?” 

Johnny studied the carabiner in his hand. Flipping it over, he met Todd’s eyes. 

Leading. 

It was what he had always naturally done. First over the side on rescues. First up on recreational climbs. Leading on high rescues was part of his job.  And, he worried, what I will be expected to do again. 

“Sure thing,” he said, attempting to bolster his confidence with a slight smile.  Standing at the base of the cliff, he studied his feet for a moment, resisting the urge to estimate the distance to the top.  Looking at Todd, he said, “I’ll go up thirty, then set the first protection.” 

Todd nodded, watching Johnny set his foothold and pull up onto the rock face.  He said nothing, understanding the turmoil Johnny must be feeling. You’re on your own now, he thought, if you can do this, you’ll be all set. Second thoughts plagued him, and Todd worried that he had pushed Johnny too far, forcing him to face the inevitable fear too soon. This might backfire really badly, he thought, his misgivings flooding him with anxiety as he watched Johnny climb higher. 

But John climbed on, and as he ascended, he felt an old familiar current of excitement beginning to ripple in the back of his mind. Savoring the small sense of accomplishment, he avoided looking out into the sky. No need to ruin a good thing, he thought cautiously. 

When Johnny reached the final ledge a few meters below the summit, he paused, looking out over the wide expanse thoughtfully. He looked downward deliberately, expecting the familiar fear to overtake him. 

The stillness of his thoughts surprised him. 

With a cool breeze brushing lightly across his face, Johnny smiled, turning to scan the tremendous view once Todd pulled up over the edge. 

Todd studied Johnny, worrying that the climb had been too much for him. If he could have seen the smile on his friend’s face, he would have been vastly relieved. 

“Johnny? How’s it look to you?” Todd spoke tentatively, somewhat concerned about how John would answer. 

“Beautiful, Todd,” he paused, turning towards his friend with a grateful smile, “and even more surprising, finally peaceful.” 

He turned back and sat on the ledge, his legs dangling freely over the side. Lying back, Johnny clasped his hands behind his head and smiled inwardly, quietly watching a hawk circle the open sky. 

Author’s Note 2012: Many thanks to Audrey for her dedication to E! and for allowing  this lightly edited version of Revisitation to find a new home on her truly amazing site!   Revisitation was originally created under the tuilage of the folks at Emergency! Universe, which has sadly gone the way of too many E! sites.  EU and NanM, if you are out there somewhere, hope you both are well, and thanks for all the guidance and warm memories!

*Click above to send Caressa feedback

Guest Dispatchers