Serendipity

  Part 10

 

 

Chet wiped the steam off the mirror with his towel, and continued shaving. “Hey, Roy.”

“Yeah?” Roy called from inside the shower over the noise of the water.

“I’m gonna stop by Johnny’s this afternoon. You wanna come?” Chet heard the soap hit the floor of the shower.

Roy paused, bending to pick up the soap. “Yeah, Chet. I was gonna do the same thing, after I check on Joanne this morning.”

“Okay. How about if I come by and pick you up around 2:00, and we’ll go together?” When Chet looked back to the mirror, he was startled to see Wesley’s reflection. The man had silently appeared in the bathroom, and was now sitting on the bench in front of his locker, pulling his shoes off.

Roy hated to wait that long to go see Johnny, but knew he would have obligations at home first, after seeing Joanne. He’d already made up his mind that he would be going over to Adam’s to get his kids immediately, now that his in-laws weren’t with them any more, then he would take them to see Joanne. There was no way he was going to let them stay one more minute at Wes’s house than he had to. They would spend the morning with Joanne, then he would have to get them lunch. “Sounds good. I think I’ll bring the kids. I bet it would do him good to see them; they miss Johnny.” And so do I. Roy had been feeling terrible about Johnny’s aunt ever since Meredith Macklin had left, and now was anxious to get to see Johnny to make sure he was okay. From what Meredith had said, Johnny was in need of some serious cheering up. Not only that, but Roy was especially concerned as to why Johnny hadn’t told any of them what had happened. He couldn’t figure out why Johnny wouldn’t have at least come to him about it. In the past, whenever his dark-haired friend had a serious problem, usually Roy was the first one to know about it. But then, they hadn’t exactly been close lately. And Johnny had Heather to turn to now. Roy sighed deeply.

Chet surreptitiously caught the look in Wesley’s eyes in the mirror, and it stopped him. The man looked positively cold with jealousy; his eyes were steely and narrowed, and he yanked his other shoe off angrily, not knowing Chet was watching him. “Uh, yeah; that’s a good idea, Roy.”

Roy’s mind wandered as he continued his shower. It really troubled him that Johnny had come back to the station to reclaim his job, only to find out that it was no longer available. What made him change his mind? Was it only because he gave his money away and needed income? And what had it done to him when he’d found out that his resignation had already been carried out? The thought of what Wesley Adams had done made Roy boil once again. “Oh, damn,” Chet heard a frustrated voice coming from inside the shower. “Chet, would you grab my shampoo out of my locker for me?”

“Sure, Roy.” When Chet turned, Wesley had already opened Roy’s locker and was pulling it out.

“I got it,” Adams said nonchalantly, his face now transformed into a calm expression. Chet stared at him as he walked over to the shower to deliver the shampoo, then continued shaving.

Wesley had been watching Roy’s blurry figure behind the shower door, and now stood staring at it in anticipation. His breath became shallow as he reached for the shower door and pulled it open. “Here ya go.”

Startled at the cold air rushing in, Roy turned to see Wesley standing there, holding the shampoo in his hand. A chill ran down Roy’s spine as he watched the stout paramedic’s eyes roam down his body and stop just below his waist, leaving the door open much longer than necessary to hand him the shampoo. Roy’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the expression on Wes’s face that he was unable to hide, then he quickly grabbed the shampoo from the man, and reaching for the door, yanked it shut in the man’s face. He didn’t say thank you; instead he stood trembling in anger, the lusty desire in Wesley’s eyes haunting him. He stayed there a long time, waiting for Wesley to change and depart, and for the first time in his life, felt sexually violated. He knew right then that he couldn’t continue to work with this man. The water finally grew cold, and he had to get out. Shivering, he quickly dried off and dressed, almost terrified that Adams would walk back in to molest him again with his eyes.

Roy hadn’t spoken to Wes since yesterday when the Cap had told him of Adam’s transgression, that he had informed Headquarters prematurely of Johnny’s resignation. He’d barely slept worrying about what to do about it, and how to get out of working with Wesley. What could he do? He didn’t have any concrete proof that the man had done anything wrong, just innuendos and suspicions. But he trusted his instincts, and they were screaming at him now that Adams was not what he seemed to be. Roy now suspected Wesley was gay, and while Roy had never held any prejudices against homosexuals, he couldn’t take working side by side with someone who he now realized had been slowly trying to seduce him, using a deep friendship as a front. And what was even worse, Roy couldn’t stop the feeling that the man could be dangerous as well.

Roy grabbed his jacket, and threw his locker door shut. It caused Gage’s locker door to fall open, and Roy was drawn to walk over and stand in front of it. Johnny still hadn’t been by to empty it. He stared sadly at the one uniform shirt hanging alone, then glanced over to Johnny’s Smokey poster, still taped to the door. Something possessed him to reach behind it, and he smiled when he found that the photo of Valerie was still there, almost right behind the one of Heather. Gently pushing it back, he stood there a long moment, looking at the other pictures of the two of them and of his children, wishing his real partner would come back.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Chet rolled off Cindy, sweating, and breathless. “God, babe, that was incredible,” he murmured, pulling her close.

She smiled contentedly. “It was, wasn’t it?” She sighed. Things had been going quite well between her and Chet, and both of them had secretly been thinking lately that there might just be a wedding in their future.

“What time to you have to meet your sister again?” Cindy’s sister was getting married, and Cindy was going to be in the wedding. They were going dress shopping that afternoon.

“Two o’clock.”

“Hm. That should give us plenty of time.”

Cindy nuzzled her nose into Chet’s neck and kissed him. “For what?”

“For breakfast, then a little more time in the sack.”

“Mmm; sounds perfect. What are you going to do this afternoon while I go shopping?”

“Me and Roy are going to stop by and see Johnny.”

“Oh; I guess he must be out of the hospital now?”

“Yeah. He was released a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. Um, how long until he comes back to work?” Her voice was a little unsure.

Chet rolled over on his side and wrinkled his brow at her. “Didn’t I tell you? I thought I told you.” He looked up to the ceiling, then back at her. “Gage resigned.”

Cindy sat up, looking mortified. “What? You’re kidding!”

Chet thought her reaction was a little overstated. “Yeah. I thought I already told you, but I guess I didn’t.” He smiled at her. “You must have had me preoccupied.” He began nibbling on her arm.

Cindy backed away and sat up in bed, looking troubled. Chet stared at her, perplexed. “What is it, babe?”

Her voice stumbled. “I just…oh, I knew I should have told you. I can’t believe he quit! She must have told him.”

Chet kept staring at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about. “Hello? Earth to Cindy. What do you mean, ‘you should have told me’? Told me what?”

Cindy turned to him then, her eyes full of remorse, then heaved a sigh. “You remember the spaghetti dinner we all went to?”

“Yeah…what about it?”

“Well…..”

 

 

Chet had never eaten breakfast so fast before. Cindy didn’t mind. After a quick peck on the cheek, she watched him bolt out the door, and hoped he’d be able to talk to Johnny. She felt awful, revealing the whole nasty conversation she’d heard between Doreen Adams and herself, and the fact that Heather Banks, Johnny’s girlfriend, had overheard it. And worse, that it now was apparent that Heather had relayed that conversation to Johnny. Why else would he have quit? Even that night, at the spaghetti dinner, he’d been talking about coming back, and then suddenly, he’d resigned. Cindy felt sad and guilty that she had been part of a conversation that had hurt someone, especially someone who seemed as nice as Johnny. And now she felt equally bad that she hadn’t told Chet. It might have prevented all this from happening, if the truth had come out. She knew from things that Chet had said over the past few months, that he and Johnny were pretty tight, and that Chet had come to loathe Wesley. She almost felt like it was her fault that Johnny no longer had a job at the station.

Chet set things straight with Cindy that morning, telling her that everything that Doreen had said had been a lie. He felt certain too that it must have been the reason behind Johnny’s quitting. All along, he’d been blaming Heather, along with everyone else, when it now occurred to him that it might not have been her after all.

 

It took Chet twenty minutes to reach Johnny’s neighborhood, and he was flabbergasted when he pulled up in front of a house displaying a path of stone steps leading to nothing, except for some crumbled and blackened pillars. The rest was a pile of charred rubble.

Chet slowly exited his car, walked up the steps toward the house; the same steps that he had helped Johnny go up the last time he was there. Astonished, he stared at the ruins of his friend’s house, all the while a sick feeling of disbelief flooded through his gut. He physically jerked when he glanced over toward the garage, and saw a small speck of bright red peeking out from beneath the collapsed roof. John’s beautiful Corvette, sat crushed underneath.

He stood there a long time, trying to make sense of it, wondering what had happened with John that night. It was obviously the result of the earthquake, and obviously, Johnny hadn’t been here when the damage occurred. They all knew for a fact that Gage had been with Heather, since he had rescued her father from his library. But where had he been the last few weeks? And why the hell didn’t he tell everyone his house burned down? Why didn’t he tell anyone his aunt died? God, what was happening?

Swallowing, Chet was determined to find his friend, feeling a desperate need to help the man. Things were looking worse and worse. Not having any idea where he was, a thought came to him, and he ran back to his car, heading for the Bank’s house. Johnny had shown him Heather’s house once, and it wasn’t easy to forget. When he arrived, he was greeted by yards of yellow tape, cordoning off the magnificent home. While Heather’s house was still standing, Chet could see there was significant damage, and that no one was living there. Pounding his dashboard in frustration, he wondered where the hell Johnny could have gone. He could be checked into any number of hotels, or he could be with Heather somewhere; who knew?

One last thought occurred to him – the water. Chet turned his car around, and drove manically for the dock.

Bingo! Chet exclaimed to himself and smiled when he saw Johnny’s Rover parked nearby, seemingly undamaged. Relieved that he’d finally figured out where Johnny had been, he anxiously left his car and strode toward the slip where John’s boat was docked.

Chet’s sneakered feet thumped hollowly on the wooden pier as he hurried toward his destination. It was a pleasant day, and a soft breeze fluttered his button down shirt. Another wave of shock overtook him, and he slowed his step when he came upon the battered, and mastless sailboat softly swaying in the water in John’s slip. Gawking, he neared the boat, taking in the deep scratches in the stern, the torn wood, and the gaping hole in the deck where the mast had once been. His eyes moved upward to the wrecked cabin, and saw the huge dent in the top; some of the broken shards of glass still were clinging to the mangled window frames. Holy shit!

Chet ogled the boat intently, trying to figure out what could have happened. The earthquake wouldn’t have caused this kind of damage; a storm maybe, but not an earthquake. He glanced around; none of the other boats appeared to be harmed. Vandalism? No way. A vandal couldn’t tear the mast off a boat. Then what the hell could have happened? He was totally baffled.

A familiar voice called his name, and he swung around. Connecting the voice with the person, he glanced up and saw Heather on the deck of the boat next to him. Relieved, and anxious for answers, he watched as she climbed from her boat and made her way toward him; her face was etched with strain and sadness.

“Heather,” he acknowledged her as she reached his side. Shaking his head, he couldn’t seem to get the question out of his mouth at first. “What….I….what the hell happened to Johnny’s boat?”

Heather tossed her tawny hair backward away from her face and sighed. “You remember that bad storm we had a few days ago?”

“Yeah?”

“He took the boat out sailing that day.”

Chet was incredulous. “By himself?”

She nodded gravely. “This is what happened.” She gestured toward the boat.

Chet glanced around, trying to picture what it must have been like out sailing alone in a storm that bad, and confused as to why Johnny would take his boat out in it. “Wh-where is he? Do you know?” For a moment, a horrible foreboding came over him that something had happened to Johnny in the storm. It was a wreck; had he even survived?

Heather’s face went slack in surprise, her eyes widening. “Didn’t you get the message? I called – ” Sudden realization hit her, and she immediately damned herself for trusting Wesley Adams to give her message to Roy about John.

Chet searched her face anxiously. “What message?” he demanded.

“Chet, John’s in the hospital. I called the station three days ago and left a message for Roy.”

Chet shook his head in disbelief. “What? In the hospital? But…Roy would have known – ”

“He’s not at Rampart,” she said dejectedly.

“Well, where is he?”

Heather drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I had him taken to Century Pavilion.”

Chet’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “Century…you had him taken? What happened? If he looks anything like that boat….he got hurt during the storm?”

“Yes and no.” Heather looked terribly troubled and walked over to lean against one of the piers. Nervously, she ran her hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face, then turned to Chet, who had followed. “The whole thing was my fault,” she lamented.

“Your fault? Heather, just tell me what happened.”

“The night of the earthquake, Johnny came over, to see if we were all right. He rescued my brother and father from our house.”

“Yeah, I know. We read about it in the paper.”

“Well, Mother asked John if he could find her dog, then we all left for the hospital. Apparently, while he was inside looking for her, there was an aftershock. The ceiling fell on him, and….he was hit on the head, quite hard. None of us knew it; he didn’t tell anyone. I don’t know why, I guess he didn’t realize how badly he was hurt or something. I’m not sure, since I haven’t seen him since then, except for the day he took the boat out, and once, later in the hospital.” She looked into Chet’s questioning eyes sadly. “We broke up that day, before all that happened.”

“What? Why?” Chet asked softly. The story just seemed to get more and more unbelievable. “Wait, finish telling me about Johnny first.”

“When he decided to take the boat out, he wasn’t thinking straight; the head injury he suffered was affecting his judgment.” She looked out over the water. “I should have known…he wasn’t himself at all that day…he was so angry. I should have called the Coast Guard right away, but I wasn’t sure. Anyway, apparently he began…losing his vision…during the storm.”

Chet rubbed his mustache nervously.

“To make a long story short, when he didn’t return, I called the Coast Guard, and they went out looking for him. They found him, almost unconscious on his boat, after the storm had wrecked it, and brought him back here. When he first stepped off the Coast Guard boat, he was conscious, but then he said he had a really bad headache, and he collapsed. The paramedics came and took him to the hospital.”

“Century Pavilion.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

She swallowed. “He has a…subdural hematoma. They’ve been giving him drugs to try to break up the blood clot, and they’re not working. Tomorrow they’re going to operate.” Her voice broke on that, and she looked down as tears came to her eyes.

Chet looked away. “Shit,” he whispered.

She looked up. “That’s not all.”

Chet shook his head, as if he didn’t want to hear more.

“He’s blind.”

Chet looked up incredulously. “Blind?”

“Yes. The doctors think the blood clot and swelling are putting pressure on his optic nerve, and that that’s what’s causing it. They said…they think the surgery will correct it.”

Chet raked his hands through his curly hair. “What kind of surgery, Heather?”

“It’s called a….cra-crainiotomy. They have to…drill a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure and remove the clot.” Her face contorted in distress.

Chet sighed, staying silent a moment while he thought. This whole thing was so unbelievable it was almost comical. How could all this happen to one person? He turned to her. “Did you know his aunt died?”

Heather nodded. “Yes, but not until later. We had broken up, you see, and he didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know…he had an aunt.”

Chet heard the self-recrimination in her voice, and almost felt sorry for her. He paused a moment, trying to take it all in. “What’s this about you two breaking up?”

She sighed. “Oh, I don’t know if I can even explain it myself. It’s kind of complicated. I guess what it all boils down to is that John felt that we weren’t right for each other, that we were too different; that somehow, he wasn’t going to be able to live up to my….expectations.”

Well, that was probably true, Chet thought. I’m surprised Gage finally realized it. He remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“You think so too, don’t you?”

He shook his head noncommittally. “Heather, I’m not the right guy to ask.

“I just wish…God, I’ve made so many mistakes…if only I could go back and do it over,” she closed her eyes in dismay, then covered them with her hand, and Chet saw her shoulders shake. Chet could barely hear her as she choked out, “I love him so much, and now he won’t even see me.” She couldn’t stop her tears as her shoulders continued to shake.

Chet hesitated a moment, then pulled her into a loose hug, patting her back.

“What if he dies?” she asked mournfully through her tears.

“Hey,” he soothed, “that’s not going to happen. Johnny’s tough.”

“It would be my fault.”

“Of course it wouldn’t be your fault.”

Heather pulled from his embrace and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Chet, he was hurt because we asked him to go back into our house and rescue our dog! And he did it, without even a worry for himself.”

Chet shook his head. “That’s just the kind of guy Johnny is, Heather. He loves animals. He probably would have gone back in there to rescue the dog even if you hadn’t asked,” Chet chuckled. “You know, I could tell you a dozen funny stories about Gage and animals.”

She looked up at him and sniffed, her tear-filled eyes hopeful that he’d be able to deliver a funny tale to cheer her up.

“Did he ever tell you about the cat that adopted him at the station one time?”

“No.”

“Or the time this chick, er, girl, asked him to watch her dog while she was in the hospital?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that dog created more havoc for Johnny than you can believe. It was hilarious. Remind me to tell you about it some time.”

“I will.”

Chet sighed, suddenly anxious to go see Johnny, now that he knew where he was. “You said he was at Century Pavilion?”

“Yes.”

“Why there?”

“I thought it was a better hospital than Rampart, so I told the paramedics to take him there. That was another mistake I made,” she said with chagrin. “He was furious when he found out he wasn’t at Rampart.”

“Yeah, well, Johnny has a quick temper sometimes, but he’s just as quick to forgive. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“I know, but I know Johnny; he’ll get over it. Listen, I’ve got to go.” He stopped a minute, as if remembering something. “Heather, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“No.”

“You know my girlfriend, Cindy?”

“Yes.”

“She told me this morning about a conversation you overheard in the ladies’ room at the Fireman’s spaghetti dinner.”

Heather’s face looked pained at the mention of it. “Yes. I heard it; I heard everything that hateful ‘Doreen’ woman said about John.”

“I just have one question. Did you…did you tell Johnny what she said?”

Heather’s eyes were full of sadness. “I didn’t want to. I held it from him for quite a while. I didn’t want to hurt him. Then one night, we were…arguing, and…and it slipped out.”

“Was that before he resigned?”

“Yes. I wish I’d have kept my mouth shut. I think it killed him to find out what Roy…” she said his name distastefully, “…really thought of him.”

Chet was livid, but kept his cool. His eyes narrowed. “Just to set the record straight – Roy never would have said any of those things about Johnny, and none of us feel that way about him. Adam’s wife, Doreen, made all that stuff up, to make her husband look good.”

Heather rubbed her forehead. “I should have known. It didn’t seem to add up; I had a hard time believing that Roy could be so cold-hearted, but…she sounded so convincing, and she didn’t know I was there when she made those comments. Oh, God, why did I have to tell him? He might have been working the night of the earthquake, then none of this ever would have happened. Oh, I’ve made such a mess of things!”

Watching her, Chet could see how sincere she was, and it dawned on him why Johnny had been so taken with her. She was beautiful, and sweet, and caring; it’s just that her wealth and her image got in the way of letting people see who she really was. He, and everyone else, had stereotyped her as a ‘rich bitch’, a snob who thought she was better than everyone else. “No, you haven’t,” he soothed. “Look, I’m sure this’ll all work out. Maybe when Johnny gets better, you two can talk things over.”

“I doubt it. I think he’s through with me.”

“Well, don’t give up yet.” He looked at his watch. It was noon. “I’ve got to go. Heather, thanks for letting me know everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Again, guilt possessed her as she realized she should have called Roy back to make sure he got her message, but didn’t. She looked into Chet’s eyes then, thankful that he was on his way to see Johnny. She didn’t ask Chet to let her know how the surgery went. She knew she would be able to find out; her father had connections with many of the doctors at the hospital, and they would be keeping her posted.

“Bye.” He waved, then took off at a trot toward his car.

She stood on the pier and watched him go, then, with a heavy heart, went back to her yacht to wait. Her father had arranged for an expert to come take a look at John’s boat in the hopes of repairing it. It was the least he could do for Johnny after saving his life, and his son’s; the insurance company had already totaled the boat.

 

 

Chet drove at a pace that would have made Mario Andretti look like a grandmother. Or at least, that’s what it felt like as he raced toward the hospital. The thought crossed his mind to stop and pick up Roy first, but he didn’t want to waste time going to Roy’s house when he knew the man was probably at Rampart visiting his wife. His eyes darted around in paranoia that he would be pulled over by a cop, and hoped that, if caught, he would be able to talk his way out of a ticket. After all, the circumstances were dire.

Chet found a parking spot, and hurried in to Century Pavilion Hospital, quickly inquiring at the front desk about which room Johnny was in. He was directed to the fifth floor, where all the neurology patients were, and anxiously boarded the elevator. As he rode the floors, he wondered what kind of state of mind Johnny would be in. He ticked off in his head everything that Johnny had to deal with: the death of his aunt, the loss of his job and the mistaken realization that his best friend loathed him, the failure of a serious relationship, the destruction of all his property and virtually everything he owned except his Rover, and now a serious head injury that might leave him blind, with the possibility of permanent disablement. The thought of it all was overwhelming, and he felt woefully unprepared for how to approach someone who had suffered so much loss. He did it the only way he knew how.

He stopped at the doorway and looked in. Johnny was alone in the room. He was lying in bed, sort of slumped at an angle, with his eyes closed. The sun was streaming in through the windows, and if Johnny had his sight, Chet was sure it would have bothered him. Other than looking pale and weak, Johnny didn’t look any different than he ever did.

Chet’s sneakers squeaked as he took a step into the room, and Johnny’s eyes slid open at the sound. His head turned slightly toward the door, and he listened. Chet stopped, nervous about what to say.

“Who’s there?” Johnny asked; his voice was rough and slightly slurred.

Chet took a few steps toward the bed.

“Debbie?” Debbie was John’s day nurse, and he thought it might be her, but the squeak of the shoes was slightly different.

“No, Johnny. It’s me, Chet.”

Johnny almost flinched in surprise. “Chet?”

“In the flesh. At your service.”

Johnny snorted softly. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Chet struggled for words, for once. “Just thought you might need a little company.”

Johnny grunted a response, then, “How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked Heather down. She told me what happened, and that you were having surgery tomorrow.”

“Huh. She finally told someone.” How did she know about the surgery?

“No, actually, she called the station three days ago to tell us, but we didn’t get the message.”

Johnny turned his head curiously toward Chet, hearing the carefully controlled anger in his voice.

“It’s a long story; I’ll fill you in on it later. But, believe me, if I’d have known you were here, I would have been here to see you sooner. We all would have.”

Johnny sighed and turned his head away from Chet slightly. His brown eyes were unfocused, and gave his face a lost expression. “It’s okay; I really didn’t want to see anyone anyway.” He laughed joylessly. “Get it? Didn’t want to ‘see’ anyone?”

“Funny.” Chet said. Johnny’s joke made him feel uncomfortable, but he decided to take Johnny’s lead. Maybe humor was the way around this. “You know, I always said you needed your head examined, Johnny, but I didn’t mean like this.”

Gage chuckled again. “Yeah, I know. It’s all I need – another hole in my head, right?”

“Right,” Chet played along. “Hey, I thought Dr. Early already did a lobotomy on you last year when you were in the hospital.”

“No. It was only a partial. Hopefully, the rest of my brains won’t fall out when they drill the hole in my head.”

“Man, I hope not. You need all you can get.” Chet laughed nervously.

The corner of Johnny’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “You know, after the surgery, I’ll probably be able to remember every word to the theme song of ‘Gilligan’s Island’, but I won’t remember any of my paramedic training.” He laughed again, then winced, the action causing the pain to throb in his head. As Chet chuckled, Johnny frowned. “But then again, maybe I’ll get lucky and I won’t wake up.”

Chet’s breath caught in his throat. “Johnny, stop it,” he said quietly.

Johnny’s voice was empty. “I’m just bein’ realistic, Chet. Remembering my paramedic training isn’t gonna do a whole hell of a lot of good to an unemployed, blind fireman.”

“Johnny, Heather said the surgery is probably going to restore your vision.”

Johnny lay silently, unresponsive, his face now a picture of total depression. Finally, he said in almost a whisper. “It doesn’t matter, Chet. I don’t have…too much to live for right now.”

Chet felt sick and desperate. He reached down and squeezed John’s shoulder. “Hey, man; yeah you do. Don’t talk like that.” He licked his lips, trying to find words to convince John. “Look, I know everything looks bad right now, I mean, none of us could believe it when we heard about everything that had happened to you. We’re all real sorry about your aunt, Johnny. I wish you would have told us.”

Johnny closed his eyes, pained at the memory.

“Johnny, whatever happened to you aunt, it wasn’t your fault. You’ve got to know that.” Chet saw Johnny’s face constrict, and he sighed, frustrated at not being able to say the right things. The problem was, there really wasn’t anything he could say to make things better, so he just did the best he could. He never was very good at this kind of thing. “The point is, that right now, you’ve got to concentrate on getting better. The surgery is gonna work, I know it is. And we’ll all be there to help you get back on your feet again. You can lean on all of us, John. And when you’re feeling better, you can go back to work.”

“There’s no place at 51’s for me any more.”

“That may be about to change, if I have anything to do with it.”

“Roy’s partner is Wesley; he’s happy with him.”

“No, he’s not, Johnny.”

Johnny sighed. “Chet, I don’t feel like talking about any of this.” He rubbed at his forehead with one hand, then brought his other hand up, the IV lines dangling down, to his other temple. Chet could tell he was in pain.

“Okay. Maybe you’re right. Now’s not the time.”

“Chet, I just wanna be by myself, okay?”

The curly-haired Irishman hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t leave. “Johnny…look, I can keep you company. We can talk about whatever you want, or we don’t have to talk about anything. I can just sit here with you, if you want. There’s a ball game on TV this afternoon. We can listen to it together.”

“Please, just leave me alone.” His tone was almost desperate.

Chet sighed, feeling defeated. “Okay. Whatever you want.” He patted John’s shoulder a couple of times. “I’ll come back and see you after the operation, okay?”

Johnny didn’t answer. He just lay staring outwardly at nothing. He heard Chet say goodbye, then heard him leave. Sighing, he closed his eyes. His head was pounding again, and his mouth was dry. Reaching out, he felt for the bedside table, and pulled it close. Feeling with his hands over the table, he found the plastic cup, then searched for the pitcher of water. The back of his hand hit it, causing it to tip over, spilling the cold ice water everywhere. Enraged and discouraged, Johnny used his arm and wiped everything off the table, sending it crashing to the floor, then collapsed back against the pillow with a frustrated cry.

 

Disheartened from his depressing hospital visit, Mario was behind the wheel again, and he had his mind set on his destination. He knew there was one person who might be able to get through to Johnny. He just hoped Roy was home.

 

 

Roy had just set two plates with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on them before his two children, and was reaching for the chips, when the doorbell rang. He looked up at the clock; it was almost one o’clock, a little early for Chet to be there. He sighed as he watched his kids dig into their sandwiches, glad that he had his children with him. They’d had a nice visit with their mother in the hospital that morning, which had cheered everyone up. Joanne was doing much better, and would be coming home in just a few more days.

He had picked them up immediately that morning, dreading having to be at Wesley Adam’s home one second longer than he needed to. On the way over, he’d decided that he would gather their belongings, and move them out of their house. The thought of them spending another day there made him too uncomfortable. He didn’t really think that Doreen would hurt them, but still, after things that had taken place recently on Wesley’s part toward him, he felt it was best to get them away from him as soon as possible. A nasty feeling was churning in his stomach about Wes, and he had to trust his instincts. He would call Eileen, Joanne’s sister, and ask her to come early. If she couldn’t, he didn’t know what he would do, but he knew that they wouldn’t be going back to Adam’s house. He wished he could have Johnny watch them, but that was out of the question at the moment, not after learning about Johnny losing his aunt. Roy would have felt a lot more comfortable leaving them in Gage’s hands than in the Wes’s. Some bad things had obviously transpired in Johnny’s life that Roy wasn’t aware of, and thinking about it made him even more anxious than ever to talk to him. Hopeful that Chet had arrived early, he jumped up from the table quickly, and headed toward the door.

He couldn’t help it when his mouth dropped open at the sight of Wesley standing on his doorstep. He was too stunned to be angry, in disbelief that Adams had the gall to come to his house. Stammering out an irritated greeting, he uttered, “W-Wes, w-what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Roy,” he smiled. “Well, I remembered you were wanting to start working on the basement railing, and I thought I’d come by to lend you a hand.”

Roy stood, shell-shocked, his mouth still open, staring wordlessly at the man. He finally closed his mouth and swallowed. Then, Roy stepped out onto the porch, not wanting to allow Wesley access to his house. He stood blocking the doorway.

“We did talk about me helping you, don’t you remember?”

“Yeah,” Roy said dryly. “I told you I’d let you know, remember?” He emphasized the word ‘remember’ back at Wesley.

“Well,” he laughed nervously, “since I’m here, we might as well start on it.”

The sight of Wes in front of him was making him sick, and as he began a slow boil, he had a hard time not letting his anger show. Wesley was the last person he wanted to see right now. As a matter of fact, he would be ecstatic if he never had to lay eyes on the man again. “My kids are eating lunch. After that, we’re going to go visit Johnny. I’m not gonna work on the railing right now. Maybe later.” His jaw was clenched.

“Oh. Well, how about if I come over later? Or, I could get started on it while you’re out…”

Roy was ready to explode. “No.” His voice was stern and barely controlled.

The old van that flew haphazardly into the driveway distracted them, and they turned to see Chet screech his car to a halt, and jump out. Wes took a step backward at the sight of Chet Kelly’s livid expression. Chet strode with lightning speed up to the front porch, where they were standing. His blue eyes were blazing with anger as he confronted Wesley. Shoving his fingers into Wesley’s chest and pushing him backwards, he exploded. “You! You son of a bitch! I ought to kick your ass to Kingdom come for what you did.”

“Chet, what?” Roy was so taken aback he could hardly respond. What more could Wesley have possibly done that he didn’t know about?

Chet had Wesley pinned up against the railing on Roy’s porch, his face inches from the man’s. “I don’t know what you think you’re tryin’ to pull, but it’s not gonna work, man. One way or another, I’m gonna see to it that you’re history!”

Roy was stunned to see Chet so angry; his nostrils were flaring he was so mad.

Wes grabbed Chet by the arms and tried to push him off. “Get off me, you stinkin’ Irishman!”

Roy’s eyes widened at Wesley’s comment. He had to stop this and find out what the hell it was about. “Chet, wait a minute.” Roy reached between the two men and pushed Chet away from Wes. “Now, just hold on! What’s this about?”

Chet shook his head, fuming. “Man, you’re not gonna believe what this asshole’s been doing, Roy.”

“Something out of a figment of your imagination, Kelly, I’m sure,” Wes retorted hotly.

Chet turned to Roy, who was very uncomfortable at the interaction taking place in public display out on his front porch. “Roy, I need to talk to you, without this asshole around.”

Roy looked from Chet to Wes. “Chet, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“All right. Have it your way.” He folded his arms. “I went to find Johnny this morning. He’s in the hospital.”

“What?!”

“Heather had him taken to Century Pavilion. He’s got a serious head injury, and he’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow. Heather called the station three days ago to tell us about it, only we didn’t get the message because this asswipe didn’t tell anyone!” Chet looked furiously at Wesley.

Roy was stunned at the news of Johnny being in the hospital again. “Head injury? What kind of head injury? How did it happen?”

“I’ll tell you about that in a minute. The point is, he knew about it and didn’t tell anyone!” Chet thrust his finger out at Wesley.

Roy glanced at Wesley from the corner of his eye. “You’re saying…she left a message with…Wes?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying; she asked for you, and for some reason, he decided not to tell you about it.”

“Kelly, you’re dreaming. I never talked with that Heather chick.”

“God, you are such a piece of shit, Adams. She sure as hell did talk to you; you answered the phone when she called, and said your name. I think there’s only one Wesley Adams that works at our station. You told her that Roy ‘wasn’t available’ when she called, didn’t you, Adams? That he was in some sort of a ‘training exercise’? Funny that you weren’t taking part in that ‘training exercise’ too.”

Wesley averted his eyes, doing a very bad job at feigning innocence. “I don’t remember any such thing, fuck-head.”

Chet drew his arm back in order to smash the living daylights out of Adams, but Roy stopped him, grabbing his arm.

Roy glared at Wes, ready to punch the man out himself. In a barely restrained voice, he said, “Wes, I think you better leave, right now.”

Wesley’s fists were clenched with rage. “Yeah, so he can tell you a pack of lies, right Kelly? Why do you like Gage so much anyway, Kelly? He’s nothing but a rich, good-for-nothing washed-up fireman who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed in anger, almost afraid of what he might to do Adams himself if he didn’t leave, but Wesley continued.

“He’s not good enough to kiss the ground you walk on, Roy! Don’t you see?” Wesley’s hands were out in an imploring gesture. “Him and his rich bitch girlfriend…why do you want him as a partner anyway? He’s nothing but one big accident waiting to happen! Just look at where he is now as proof! He goes off alone into his girlfriend’s house in the middle of an earthquake tryin’ to rescue their dog, for Chrissake!”

Roy stared at him. His voice was low and accusatory when he spoke. “How would you have known anything about that, Wes?”

Wesley’s mouth dropped open at the realization that he’d incriminated himself. “I…I…just guessed that’s what happened,” he stammered. “It sounds like something Gage would do.”

Chet just shook his head. “Wesley, you must be some sort of clairvoyant, because that’s exactly what happened to Johnny.” He turned to Roy, who was silently fuming. “Roy, this is just the tip of the iceberg with this guy. Wait ‘till you hear the rest of what I’ve got to tell you.”

Wesley reached for Chet, grabbing him by the shirt collar with both fists. His face was red and his eyes were bulging. “Kelly, you’re making all this up. Admit it, you’ve hated me from the day I started at 51!”

Chet reached up to cover Wesley’s face with his hand and pushed him away, while Roy grabbed at Wes’s arm to pull him off. “No, I didn’t, Wes. But I do now.” Wesley grunted as he was shoved away.

From inside the house through the screen door, Roy heard Chris calling uncertainly from the kitchen. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, Roy tried to calm himself. “Chris, stay in the kitchen! There’s nothing wrong; I’ll be right in, okay?”

“O-okay, Dad,” came the hesitant voice.

“Wes, get out,” Roy spat, his jaw clenched so tightly it was hurting.

Wesley stood his ground, his chest heaving. “Roy, please. Don’t make me leave. Kelly’s lying.” He looked at Roy, his expression becoming desperate. “You don’t understand. I’d do anything for you,” he said frantically. “Can’t you forget about Gage and realize it’s me who lo – ” He stopped abruptly, mortified at what he’d almost said.

Roy swallowed, feeling sick. “Wes,” he said evenly. “Get out, or I’ll call the police.”

Wesley stayed put a few very long seconds, then finally turned and walked away. “Kelly’s lying!” he called over his shoulder. Roy and Chet watched as he went to his truck. Just as he was ready to climb in, he called, “I’ll…I’ll see you at work, Roy. I’ll explain everything to you then.”

Roy gawked at the man as he finally left, and then he and Chet’s eyes met, mirroring their total disbelief. Both mouths hung slightly open at what had just transpired.

“The guy is whacked out,” Chet commented.

“I think I need a drink,” Roy said, trying to break the tension.

“Ditto.”

“C’mon in, Chet. I think it’s about time I found out what’s really going on.”

Together, they walked in the house and entered the kitchen to see Roy’s two children finishing their peanut butter sandwiches. They stared up at the two adults wide-eyed. “Hi, Mr. Kelly,” Chris offered.

“How’re you doin’ pal?” Chet answered. “Man, you get taller every time I see you!”

Chris smiled nervously.

Daddy?” Jennifer asked timidly.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Chris and I…heard yelling outside. Were you and Mr. Kelly in a fight?”

Roy smiled sadly. “No, honey; we weren’t. We just were having a little misunderstanding with someone. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Hey! How about some ice cream for dessert?”

“Okay!” They replied in unison.

Roy got ice cream and set two bowls before his children, along with a can of chocolate syrup. “Not too much chocolate, now, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Mr. Kelly and I are gonna go in the living room and talk while you eat your ice cream, okay?”

“Okay.”

Roy fixed two glasses of ice tea, handed one to Chet, and they went out into the living room. Sighing almost simultaneously, they both dropped into chairs. “Tell me about Johnny, Chet.”

“Okay. Here’s the deal.” With a deep breath, Chet began to tell Roy about Johnny; first, how he had driven by his house that morning only to find it had burned to the ground, then how he went to the pier and found Heather. He relayed Heather’s account of how Johnny’s head injury occurred the night of the earthquake and then the accident with the boat, which led to a report on John’s diagnosis. In essence, Chet played back his entire conversation with Heather, and finally, the fact that the two had broken up. Roy listened to it all silently, incredulously, his hands alternating between raking his fingers through his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck, while he stared outward in shock.

And then he started in about Wesley, beginning with how Adams had lied to Johnny the day he left the hospital, telling him how sick Jennifer was when she really wasn’t, so that John would ask Roy not to pick him up. He finally told Roy about what happened after that, that Johnny didn’t call Heather for a ride, and instead had taken a cab home, later almost falling down his front steps when the cab driver let him out at the curb. Roy cringed, remembering how he had accused Chet of imagining that Wesley had tried to thwart Roy’s attempts to pick up Johnny.

Then came the hard part – replaying the private conversation between Cindy and Doreen at the Fireman’s spaghetti dinner, and the fact that Heather had been in the bathroom at the time and overheard it all, and then that Heather had told Johnny of their conversation. That information had caused Roy to burst out of his chair, so furious with anger that Chet thought Roy was going to fling his ice tea glass into the wall. Squeezing the tea glass in his shaking hand, Roy managed to keep a rein on his temper, knowing his children were just in the other room, and after circling the room a few times, he slowly sat back down, his face red with rage. Continuing on, Chet reminded Roy how Wesley had gone to headquarters a few weeks ago, informing them of John’s resignation prematurely, so that he could have Johnny’s position. Chet speculated that Adams had done it purposely, and Roy agreed. And now this – Wesley blatantly and purposely not telling Roy, or anyone else that Johnny had been admitted to the hospital with a serious injury.

Roy sat on the edge of his chair with his head bent into his hands, elbows on knees. He felt nauseous at finding out about all the devastation that Johnny had endured, and the fact that Johnny had been facing it all alone because he’d obviously felt he couldn’t turn to his friends. The damage that Wesley had caused to Johnny’s life was unbelievable. And now, the discovery of Wesley’s dark personality added to the sick feeling in Roy’s stomach, and the fact that the man seemed to be insanely jealous of Johnny, or worse, that he seemed to want to possess him. Roy’s mind flashed back to all the times lately that Wes had touched him, all the innocent seeming little physical gestures, the hugs, the pats on his thigh, his butt, or the shoulder, or even his hand. There had even been times that Wes had affectionately mussed Roy’s hair, when his hand would linger just a little too long, just long enough to cause a brief chill of discomfort to run down Roy’s spine. And now today, Wes’s near accidental admittance that he was in love with Roy made him flinch.

Things all began to fall into place then. Those times at Rampart that they hadn’t been able to visit with Johnny because Wes had implied that John and Heather were doing something questionable in the hospital room, Roy knew now that there had been nothing going on; it had been Wes’s underhanded way of keeping Roy from visiting Johnny. And today, Wes’s bitter criticisms of Johnny showed a blatant and unfounded hatred for a man based only on the fact that he was Roy’s best friend, and the fact that apparently he felt John’s close friendship with Roy threatened his own. Roy wondered how many times John had tried to call the station, only to be told by Wes that he wasn’t available. He thought of how Wes always was the one who jumped to the phone first to pick it up, and felt sick. But the worst thing was the knowledge that Wesley had, in a despicable and underhanded way, used his wife to put the mistaken thought into Johnny’s head that Roy no longer wanted him as a partner or a friend. It was no wonder Johnny hadn’t called him after his aunt died, or when he broke up with Heather, or after he lost his house in the earthquake; after the lies that Heather had overheard, Johnny obviously figured that Roy wanted nothing to do with him any more. His stomach kept turning the more he thought about it, and he looked over at Chet, who was more relaxed now, sitting with his ankle resting on his knee as he looked out the window.

The Irishman was relieved that he’d been able to find Roy and get all this off his chest. Chet finished his ice tea and set his glass on the coffee table. He looked over at the light-haired paramedic hunched over his knees as Roy ran both his hands through his hair. “Hey, Roy?”

Roy slumped backward into his chair, sighing. “Yeah?”

“How long has Wesley been…harassing you?”

Roy glanced over at Chet, who face showed only worry and compassion, then his eyes darted away in embarrassment.

“Roy, it’s obvious the guy’s obsessed with you, and that he hates Johnny. And after what he said today…”

“Chet, I think…I think Wes is gay.” He looked over at Chet seriously. “But even that’s not the real problem.”

“I know, Roy. I’ve been seein’ it a lot lately. The guy won’t leave you alone, will he?”

Roy swallowed. “No.”

“You talk to Joanne about it?”

Roy drew in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want to lay this on her when she’s trying to recover. Besides, she’s gotten to be good friends with Doreen.”

“I can understand that. But, Roy, the guy’s a nutcase. I can’t stand working with him, especially now. I don’t know how you’re going to.”

Roy sigh again, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Chet. The whole thing is a big mess. I guess…I’ll have to talk to the Cap about it.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Just be careful, okay? Something about Adams makes me real nervous.”

“I will.” Roy leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and swiped his hand over his face, lost in thought.

Chet uncrossed his knee, leaning forward. “Roy, you should get over to the hospital right away to see Johnny.”

That spurred Roy into action. “I know. I’m gonna go right now,” he said hesitantly, glancing toward the kitchen, “but I probably shouldn’t take the kids to see him.”

“Don’t,” Chet said seriously. “You go. I’ll stay here with Chris and Jennifer.”

“Thanks, Chet, but are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. John needs to see you. Roy…there’s something else I haven’t told you.”

Roy looked warily at Chet. “What?” What more could there be?

“Well…Johnny’s really depressed.”

Roy paused and looked somberly at Chet. Quietly, he said, “Yeah; I would expect that.”

“Yeah, but I mean, he’s…really depressed. I’ve never seen him this way, and it kinda scared me. Today when I saw him, he was talkin’ about…dying, Roy, that he wanted to die.”

Roy stared into Chet’s eyes a long time; Chet couldn’t read his expression, but it seemed like he was definitely working to hold something inside that was just boiling under the surface. The senior paramedic’s facial muscles rippled almost imperceptibly at his jaw line, and he stood up wordlessly, and went into the kitchen. Chet heard him telling the kids that he was leaving for a short time, and that Mr. Kelly would be staying with them for a little while. After that, Roy walked back through the living room and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” was all he said.

 

 

Roy stood across the hall, staring into the open doorway of Johnny’s room, and saw his friend lying there in the bed, in the usual hospital gown attire. His brown eyes were half open and they stared out into nothingness. Roy sighed as he rubbed his eyes, the trials of only half a day wearing him thin already. His own problems seemed minor when he compared them to the man’s he was staring at in the room. Finally, he stepped toward the doorway, and entered slowly.

He saw Johnny’s head move slightly toward him and pause, waiting for whoever was there to identify themselves. Seeing his once exuberant and thriving friend lying there blind and forlorn caused a deep sadness to envelope him, and he hesitated, trying to think of what to say.

“Who’s there?” The soft voice asked with uncertainty.

Roy swallowed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stepped closer. “It’s me, Johnny; Roy.”

Johnny’s lips parted in mild surprise. “What’re you doing here?” Johnny’s voice sounded flat, with little inflection.

Sadly, Roy thought that Johnny’s question was a testimony to what their friendship had become lately – almost non-existent. And Roy knew it was every bit as much his fault as it was Johnny’s – probably more. But a good deal of that fault rested on another man, a very mentally sick man.

A resentful determination slipped out in his intonation as he considered what Wesley Adams had caused. “Where else would I be, considering my best friend is laid up in the hospital? I came to see how you were doing.”

“Oh.” Johnny absently played with the covers on his bed. “I guess Chet told you, huh?”

“Yeah. He, uh, filled me in on everything, Johnny. I’m really sorry I wasn’t here sooner. We just found out about it. Wesley – ”

Johnny cut him off at the mention of Adam’s name. “That’s okay. I didn’t want to see anyone anyway.” He laughed bitterly. “Get it? Didn’t want to ‘see’ anyone?” He’d forgotten he’d already used that joke on Chet. The blood clot had been affecting his memory.

Roy didn’t laugh. There were so many things that needed to be talked about, but he didn’t dare delve into any of it until he got a better grip on Johnny’s state of mind. Anything he said could only make it worse. He decided to bring up a topic that hopefully wouldn’t cause too much distress for his friend. “Johnny, I’m kind of surprised they didn’t take you to Rampart. If you’d have been there, I would have known…would’ve been there…” In his haste, Roy had forgotten to ask Chet why Johnny had been taken here instead of Rampart.

Johnny’s smile fell away. “It wasn’t my decision. I wasn’t…conscious at the time. Heather insisted on taking me here.” A resentful anger filled his voice. “I guess she felt Dr. Early wasn’t qualified to be my neurologist, so I’m seeing some doc her father knows who I’ve never heard of.”

Roy didn’t know what to say. He could certainly understand how Johnny felt; if someone were going to do surgery on his brain, he’d sure want it to be Dr. Early, and not someone he’d never met. At this point, all he could do was to try to offer some reassurance. “Well, I’m sure he’s a good doctor. Century has a really good reputation, Johnny.”

Johnny just snorted quietly.

“What’s his name? I’ll find out about him for you.” And for me.

Johnny sighed. “I don’t know….his name’s Jensen, I think. Actually, he trained under Early.” Resigned, his arm flopped down at his side. “It doesn’t really matter,” he murmured.

Roy stared at him. What does he mean, ‘it doesn’t matter’? Roy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He struggled for words. There was so much he’d wanted to say, but now that he was standing there, he was having difficulty. “Of course it matters, Johnny. But I’d say if the guy trained under Early, he must be good.”

Johnny snorted again. “You sound just like Heather.”

Roy grimaced, angry with himself that he seemed to keep saying the wrong things, and frustrated that he still couldn’t come up with the right words to help his friend. “Johnny, Heather feels terrible about what happened to you.”

Johnny didn’t say anything; his emotions began roiling at the mention of her name.

“Chet said she really wants to see you. ”

Johnny closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I don’t want her here.”

“Johnny…she wants to be here for you.”

Johnny paused, his heart wrenching, and his voice cracked slightly as he responded. “Roy, we broke up.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know why.”

Johnny’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep a grasp on his emotions. “Because I finally got it through my head that our relationship was just a big farce.”

Roy felt hesitant to continue discussing Johnny’s failed relationship with Heather, but at the same time thought that maybe it would help if Johnny talked about it. Deciding to treat lightly, he pushed just a bit further. “What do you mean?”

Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say I finally came to realize that….she didn’t love me. She loved….an image, an image of a man I could never live up to. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone on that pretense. It was a lot easier to end it now, rather than wait until we were married and had kids, and then realize we were totally wrong for each other.”

Roy was silent a moment; he couldn’t help it that Johnny’s mention of marriage had stunned him just a bit, although he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Apparently, Johnny had been as serious about her as he’d suspected. “Johnny, I think you may be wrong. I think she really does love you.”

Johnny snorted. “Right. She loves me as long as I wear the right clothes, say the right things, and do what she wants. She doesn’t want me; she wants a puppet. Our whole relationship was just an illusion, a big fat fake illusion.” He paused, drawing in a breath. “And now I’m defective merchandise; she’s not gonna want someone who’s blind. That doesn’t fit her picture of the perfect man.”

Roy could see Johnny was getting upset, and decided it was best to direct the conversation away from Heather. “I’m sure that’s not true. Look, Johnny, it sounds like the doctors are pretty sure the surgery is gonna help you. The blindness is most likely only temporary.”

“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter. My life is such a fucked-up mess, it might as well be complete.” Johnny’s face took on a faraway look. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’, maybe if I’m lucky, I won’t….” he swallowed, “I won’t wake up after the surgery.” Johnny’s voice grew into a monotone, and he sounded distant, resigned even. “Maybe somethin’ll happen and….that might be for the best. But then, like Chet said, I’m not the luckiest guy in the world. Maybe he was right; maybe I am cursed.”

Roy was somewhat prepared for Johnny’s attitude, but was still shocked at his statement. Hearing Johnny verbalize the fact that he didn’t want to survive sent a cold chill down Roy’s spine, and Roy suddenly realized how utterly deep his friend’s despair must be. He responded with the only thing he could think of to say, hoping it was true, but knowing it wasn’t. “Johnny, you can’t really mean that.”

Johnny turned his head and tried to direct his eyes at where he thought Roy’s face was. He appeared to be looking just over Roy’s shoulder. “Don’t I? My life was fine until I won that money. Because I played that stupid game, my life’s in the toilet. If I hadn’t won the money, I wouldn’t have met Heather, and I wouldn’t have had to go through breaking up with her.” He took a shaky breath. In a voice laced with contempt, he continued. “I’ve alienated all my friends; my fancy expensive house I bought burnt down. I lost everything I owned, everything that meant anything to me. Now I’m sittin’ here blind, because I was careless and stupid, and I’ll probably never be able to work again.” He paused, lowering his voice. “And worst of all, my aunt died because I used the money to move her into a nicer nursing home. She was killed in the earthquake. If I’d have kept her where she was, she’d be alive right now.” He ran his hand shakily through his hair. “She was the only family I had left.” Verbalizing everything that had happened suddenly intensified it, brought all the feelings that had dulled over the past few days back to the surface, and he turned his face away as he tried to control his trembling emotions. His voice was almost a whisper when he said, “What the hell have I got left to live for?” He knew he sounded woefully full of self-pity, but he couldn’t help it; his true feelings just slid out. A moment later, Johnny felt the side of the bed sink down where Roy had obviously moved to sit.

Roy looked down into his friend’s face a long moment, and swallowed. The words that finally came out weren’t planned, but somehow spilled forward straight from his heart. Very quietly, Roy began. “Johnny, I know you're down, and I know you're depressed. You got every right to be. God knows you've been through more than anybody should have to in a lifetime. But I'm tellin' ya right now, and get this straight. You never lost your friends, especially me. From time to time, friendships will grow apart, and maybe that happened to us. And maybe it was a little bit my fault and a little bit your fault, and a whole lot of outside fault that I won’t get into right now. But I will explain it later, when you’re better, so you’ll understand. The important thing is that I'm still your best friend. That ain't gonna change, Johnny. I'm gonna be with you all the way through this. All of us are; Chet, the Cap, Marco, and Mike included. Whatever happens.”

Roy paused, taking a breath, and looked away, contemplating, and when he started again, his voice was stronger and more determined. “Now I gotta tell you it makes me mad when I hear you talkin' about dying, mostly for selfish reasons, but also because I think…because I think you're one hell of a paramedic, and one hell of a person, and not only do you have a lot to offer, but you don't deserve to die. So, just remember, from now on, I'm gonna be on your butt 24/7 to help you through this, and not just this,” he waved his hand out in a gesture that Johnny couldn’t see, “but through everything. And if I hear you talkin' about dying again, I'm gonna make your life so miserable that you'll wish you were dead. Got it?” He looked down briefly at Johnny, who was now blinking away the building moisture in his eyes, and who also nodded minutely. Then he continued. “Now maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve got a strong feeling that your blindness isn’t permanent. You’ve dodged the odds too many times for that to be possible. So when you get out of this hospital, and you recover, and you're back on your feet again, you and I are gonna be riding together again. One way or another. Now I've got some other things to explain to you, but right now's not the time. So just think about what I said, and then get some rest. I'm gonna be back in the morning before your surgery.” Roy glanced back down at Johnny again to see if his words had had any impact. He was unable to read Johnny’s thoughts, but his face was pensive, and he didn’t look quite as sad. Roy waited for a response, now wondering if he’d been too forward, or too harsh. “Johnny?” he tried.

“…Yeah,” came a slow response.

“Did you…hear everything I said?”

Johnny nodded slowly. “You know something, Roy?”

“What?” He was almost afraid of what Johnny would say.

“You sure are bossy.”

A wide toothy smile broke out on Roy’s face that he wished Johnny could see. “I have to be. I’m the senior paramedic, remember?” He gave Johnny’s shoulder a little nudge.

A tiny quirk of a smile turned up at the corner of one side of Johnny’s mouth. “Yeah. I’ve noticed you never get tired of reminding me of that.”

“Got to keep you in line somehow.” Roy stood up and stretched, and Johnny felt the weight leave the bed. “Look; I’m gonna go and let you rest. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”

Johnny thought a second. “Um, could ya hand me that water pitcher?”

Roy reached for the recently refilled water pitcher on the bedside table and put it in Johnny’s outstretched hand. Johnny shakily held the cup in the other, and carefully poured himself a full glass, inserting his finger into the cup as they’d shown him to determine its fullness. Roy watched as he drank it down, then showed Johnny exactly where he’d placed the pitcher in case he needed it again. “Anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay then. Get some rest. I’ll be back.”

Johnny listened as his best friend walked out the door, his heart not feeling quite as heavy as it had a short while ago.

 

 

Roy’s shoulders slumped as he entered the hospital elevator, and looked at his watch. He felt overwhelmed with everything that had happened so far that day. When he reached the lobby, he decided to call home to see if everything was okay. He had a few places he needed to go, and wanted to make sure that Chet could stay, and he also wanted to make sure that Adams hadn’t come back.

The Irishman assured Roy it was no problem; he and the kids were right in the middle of a game of Monopoly, and he didn’t want to quit; he was just getting ready to put some hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place. Feeling confident that his kids were in good hands, Roy made his rounds. Late afternoon found him on the front stoop of Hank Stanley’s house, where he was relieved to find his captain home.

Roy knew the sparks were gonna fly on the next shift; he wondered if Wesley would even show up for work, and he felt it his obligation to let Hank know everything that had transpired. The Cap invited Roy in, and knew right away from the tight expression on his senior paramedic’s face that he was in for a serious discussion. Hank and Roy proceeded to the back patio to talk, after being supplied with fresh lemonade by Hank’s wife, Gloria. Roy unloaded everything that had happened that day with Johnny, Wesley, Chet, and himself, leaving Hank nearly tongue-tied with disbelief. He’d grown aware of the mounting tension between Wesley and the other men, and especially Chet lately, but was shocked to hear of Wes’s increasing harassment toward Roy, and even more stunned to hear about the transaction that had taken place on Roy’s front porch that afternoon. The more he talked, the more unsettled Roy became, until in the end, he flat out told the Cap that he wouldn’t work with Wes any more.

It had been hard on Roy; he hadn’t really had anyone to talk to about it all; with Joanne recuperating in the hospital, he hadn’t wanted to burden her with his growing problems with Wes, especially since she had grown quite close to Doreen. And normally, he would have talked with Johnny about it, but obviously the circumstances hadn’t allowed it. Talking briefly with Chet had helped a little; at least it affirmed in his mind that he wasn’t imagining things, or overreacting. Regardless, the Cap received the brunt of Roy’s frustration and turmoil.

Roy really didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he had been increasingly uncomfortable working with Wesley, and now after today, he thought it would be out of the question to work with the man and expect Wesley to remain detached. He knew he could conduct himself in a professional way, despite Wesley’s likely homosexuality, but was sure that Wesley wouldn’t be able to, and dreaded any more advances Wesley might make toward him. Another problematic issue was whether Wesley was really gay, and if he was, was it appropriate for him to be working in a firehouse full of men, where he ate, worked, showered and slept with them? Neither man would really have had a problem with it if the man in question had been discreet about it, and if he didn’t do anything questionable toward the other men. But Wesley had crossed the line as far as Roy was concerned, and as their conversation progressed, Roy felt strongly that the Cap should take disciplinary action against Wes, and seriously consider firing him.

Hank leaned back in his lounge chair and folded his arms, his face frozen in a stony expression. He had a serious problem on his hands. He sensed that if he didn’t do something, he was about to lose one of the best paramedics LA county had, and also one of the finest men he’d ever worked with, because Roy had more or less told him that it was either him or Wesley, one of them had to go. Much as he wanted to be able to accommodate Roy’s request, he honestly didn’t think he had enough proof to present to headquarters that Adams had been enough of a problem to terminate his tenure. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Roy; it was that he didn’t have the proof, only the word of one man’s discomfort. Even though Roy’s reputation spoke loudly of his character and would carry some weight, there simply wasn’t enough concrete information to present to get rid of the man. It would boil down to one man’s word against the other, and quite possibly, both of them would be relocated. Except for some seemingly innocent physical contact here and there, and the uncomfortable hug Wesley had exchanged Roy with at Rampart, which could easily be explained away as just a caring gesture to someone who was worried about his wife, the man hadn’t ever touched him. The fact that he hadn’t delivered telephone messages wasn’t enough of a reason to terminate him either.

Hank and Roy hashed it out for almost two hours and came to the conclusion that Hank would have a serious discussion with Wesley over what he expected of his behavior, but that he didn’t feel he had enough evidence of wrongdoing to fire him. Neither one of them looked forward to proceeding with what would be a highly publicized sexual harassment suit, and the price they would have to pay for it. It would be almost unprecedented; even women rarely won sexual harassment suits against men, and those were usually drawn out for years. Doing so would likely cause months or possibly years of embarrassment and ostracism as the two of them were grilled before witnesses. And then it was likely that Roy would lose. Begrudgingly, Roy agreed to come back the next shift and see how things went, but unless things did a one hundred and eighty degree turnabout quickly, Roy was going to apply for a position at another station. Maybe even he and Johnny could start fresh at some station somewhere as an established team when Johnny got better. Roy would hate leaving 51, but at least that thought gave him a little morale boost.

It was dinnertime by the time Roy arrived home, and was thankful that Chet had taken it upon himself to go ahead and order pizza for all of them. The four enjoyed a relaxing dinner out of a box in front of the TV, something that Joanne didn’t allow, while Chet and the kids excitedly updated Roy on their Monopoly game. After the pizza was gone, Chet and Roy went outside to talk, and it was dark when the curly-haired fireman left.

A late evening call was made by all to Joanne to say goodnight, and once Roy had the children tucked in bed, he called his sister-in-law to find out if she would be able to come early to watch his kids. He had a back-up if she didn’t; Gloria Stanley had offered to watch them for the few days needed until Eileen could make it into town. By then, Joanne would be getting out of the hospital, and both her and Eileen would be there for the kids. It seemed that Roy had at least that one problem solved.

Roy wearily crawled into bed late that night, setting his alarm so that he could be at the hospital early before Johnny’s surgery. He had planned a bit of a surprise for Johnny, and hoped that it might make his surgery go a little easier, and alleviate some of his friend’s fears.

 

 

Johnny was awake long before the first rays of sunshine filtered into the room, although he wouldn’t have known it if it had. Being blind took all sense of time away from him, leaving him feeling lost and out of sorts. Finally, toward dawn, he began to hear the awakenings of the hospital, as noises of the new day floated in through the open door.

His head was pounding away at a slow, dull thud, as usual that morning; it seemed like it had been forever since he hadn’t had pain in his skull. He was allowed no breakfast, in order to keep his stomach empty, and the water pitcher had been taken away at midnight, leaving his throat dry.

His dull feelings of apathy had returned, and he waited without angst for the upcoming surgery, oddly not caring or worrying about how it would turn out. Roy’s comments had cheered him up briefly, until after Roy left, Johnny began to think about what Roy had said about the two of them riding together again, and realized it was just talk. He didn’t think Roy really meant it. Roy already had a partner now; it didn’t look like there was any chance that Wesley would ever be leaving 51’s, so why was Roy making empty promises? Probably just to try to get him out of his depression, Johnny assumed. It had been a nice try, but it didn’t give John much hope. Even if the blindness resolved itself, there was no way he would ever be working at Station 51 again, or with Roy. No, nothing had changed, and life was just as hopeless as it had been before. It still seemed like the easiest solution would be to not survive the surgery, but he would be careful not to reveal those feelings again. The last thing he needed was to end up in the psychiatric ward.

He lay quietly while two different nurses entered the room to check his blood pressure, temperature, and other vitals in preparation for surgery. He did stop to ask one nurse the time, and was told it was eight o’clock. Surgery was only an hour away. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off in order to forget the misery he was in for.

A soft knock on the door made him jump, and his eyes popped open at the sudden noise; he realized then that he had fallen asleep. Groggily, he turned toward the door and heard Roy’s voice.

“Rise and shine,” Roy said cheerfully.

Johnny heard steps nearing the bed. It sounded like more than one person.

“That you, Roy?”

“Yeah. Told you I’d be back. Johnny, I brought someone to see you.”

Johnny couldn’t imagine who it could be at this hour of the morning, except maybe Joanne, but he figured she would still be in the hospital.

“Good morning, Johnny,” the deep confident voice greeted him.

Johnny’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew that voice anywhere, yet he couldn’t believe he was hearing it here. “Doc…Doctor Early?”

Joe smiled as he stood next to Roy in his scrubs. “That’s right, John. I’ll bet you didn’t know I made house calls.”

Johnny was flabbergasted. “Wha….what are you doing here, Doc?” Johnny rubbed at his eyes to try to wipe the sleep from them.

“When I found out you were in the hospital again, I decided I’d better pay you a visit, and make sure my young colleague was treating you appropriately.”

Johnny shook his head, still totally stunned that Joe Early was there.

Roy stepped closer, anxious to deliver his news. “Johnny, Dr. Early is going to be assisting with your surgery this morning.”

“What?!” Johnny’s mouth fell open. “But, but, how…what…”

“Well, you see John, I just couldn’t miss out on another chance to operate on my favorite patient. Actually, today was my day off, but I wanted the opportunity to see for myself if Dr. Jensen actually learned anything from me.”

Johnny couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smile in the doctor’s voice. He desperately wished he could see their faces. He knew what his own must look like – totally incredulous.

Roy and Dr. Early both were enjoying the reaction they were getting from Johnny, and smiled at one another.

“Doc, I-I can’t believe this. Why are you doing this?”

Joe Early’s voice grew serious. “Because you’re a friend, and I wanted to help. And if my being there will give you the will to get better, then that’s where I need to be. Just do me one favor, Johnny.”

“What?”

“Don’t give up.”

Johnny felt a lump welling up in his throat and couldn’t speak, so he nodded.

The sound of another set of feet walking into the room broke the emotional mood, and John heard a jovial Paul Jensen greet Joe Early, Roy, and then himself. “Good morning, John. Did you rest well last night?”

“Hi Doc. Uh, so-so.”

“Well, I guess you’ve met my ‘assistant’ today, and apparently you two are well acquainted, I understand. John, I didn’t know you were a paramedic.”

“Was.”

“Well, today we’re going to see what we can do to change that status. All right?”

Johnny nodded, still in disbelief at everything.

“All right. Well, if you don’t mind, Dr. Early is going to take a look at you, and then the nurse will be in to give you something to help you relax. Then, we’ll be taking you up to surgery shortly before nine.”

“Okay.”

Johnny felt a pat on his shoulder, then heard Dr. Jensen leave.

“Okay, Johnny, I’m going to have a look at your eyes first. Just lay back for me.” Dr. Early took out his penlight and examined John’s eyes thoroughly. He then looked in his ears, and did a brief neurological exam. After a few minutes, Dr. Early began talking to Johnny about the diagnosis, and told him that he had reviewed the CAT scan and other tests that Dr. Jensen had done, and was in complete agreement with his diagnosis and course of action. He then explained exactly what would be happening during the surgery, and what to expect afterward. Johnny listened, silently frowning, and feeling a little dazed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to himself. Finally, Dr. Early excused himself, saying that he would see Johnny up in surgery.

Johnny was left in the room with Roy, still in disbelief. “You arranged this, didn’t you?” he finally asked quietly.

Roy shrugged. “Sort of. Actually, I just asked if Dr. Early would call Dr. Jensen and discuss your case with him. It was his idea to get involved and assist with the surgery.”

Johnny had a feeling that it wasn’t totally the good doctor’s idea, that maybe that seed had been planted by a very good friend. “I just can’t believe he’d do this for me, Roy.” And he was deeply humbled by what Roy had done as well.

“I can. You know, Dixie says that deep down Joe Early is just a big soft teddy bear.” That made Johnny chuckle. A big soft gray-haired teddy bear.

The two men remained silent for a time, and Roy found a chair and pulled it up next to the bed to wait with Johnny. Johnny leaned his head back against the pillow and sighed. Now, all of a sudden, it hit him. He would be having surgery in less than an hour. Brain surgery. They were going to be drilling a hold in his skull, into his brain, and removing a blood clot. The thought of it made his pulse race and he broke out in a cold sweat. One would have thought that with all the times Johnny had been in the hospital, and after everything he’d been through, that another surgery wouldn’t have bothered him so much. But it did. Maybe it was the fact that they were going to go into his brain that made it so scary. What if something went wrong and his brain was damaged, or he came out of it as a vegetable? That would be far worse than death.

Roy looked over and saw his shallow breathing and the frozen look of apprehension on his face. “Johnny, you okay?”

He blinked slowly. His mouth felt dry. “I…I feel dizzy.” Johnny knew his distress was all psychological, and that was what was making him feel like he was going to pass out, but he was unable to stop it. The dryness in his mouth increased as he kept inhaling through his mouth shallowly.

Johnny’s eyes grew glassy, his skin suddenly went white as a sheet, and Roy recognized the signs that Johnny was going to faint. He got up and acted quickly, grabbing two pillows from the other bed, pulling the sheet back, and stuffing the pillows under Johnny’s knees to raise his legs. Then he lowered the head of the bed. Johnny kept panting, and closed his eyes, bringing one hand up to his forehead while the other fumbled for a hold on the bedrail. “Oh, man,” he breathed out. About fifteen seconds later it passed, and Johnny swallowed, opening his eyes again. His breathing slowed, and he seemed to be recovered. He didn’t see Roy standing over him, staring down in concern, but sensed his presence.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah…I…I think so….man….” he licked his lips.

Roy had pushed the call button after getting Johnny situated, and Debbie walked into the room. “What’s going on?” she asked, walking over to the bed. She looked down at Johnny, saw the arrangement of the pillows, and figured out what had happened. She immediately reached for Johnny’s wrist to take his pulse. “Well you were fine until those doctors were here,” she said in mock disgust/ “I tell ya, they’re always tryin’ to scare the patients.” She reached down and felt Johnny’s forehead. It was cool. Leaning in toward him, she affectionately brushed his hair to the side. “You feelin’ okay now, John?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice was still a little breathless as embarrassment set in. “I’ve never had this happen to me before.”

“It’s understandable, Johnny.”

“I’m just gonna take your blood pressure.”

“’Kay.”

“….95 over 65. All righty. Now, you just relax, and I’ll be right back.”

Roy watched as she left the room. It seemed strange to see Johnny not paying any attention to the fact that his nurse was a dark-haired beauty, although Roy wasn’t certain Johnny would be flirting with her even if he could see her in his current state of mind. He reminded himself that he would make it a point later to tell Johnny how attractive his nurse was.

She was back minutes later as promised with a sedative to prepare Johnny for surgery. “Okay, John; I’m going to give you something to relax you a little before your surgery. This’ll take the edge off any anxiety you’re feeling, okay?”

Johnny nodded. He decided he would be glad to have any edges taken off right now. Debbie finished her injection and then left, leaving the two paramedics alone again.

Five minutes later, Johnny appeared to be relaxing. Roy made small talk for a while, and John remained unusually quiet. Roy glanced at the clock; it was twenty minutes until nine. “How’re you feeling?”

Johnny turned his head in the direction of Roy’s voice; his eyelids were heavy, and his speech was slightly slurred. The sedative had loosened him up a bit, and he chagrinned, “I’m scared shitless.” A nervous smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s gonna be all right, Johnny. There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember to tell you that next time you have brain surgery.”

Roy chuckled. “Really, Johnny. I have total confidence that everything’s gonna go fine.”

“Good. At least one of us does.” Johnny tensed a few moments later when he heard two orderlies wheel a gurney into the room.

“It’s show time,” one of them said, and maneuvered the gurney over next to the bed, after lowering the bedrail.

Roy got out of the way while the two men transferred Johnny to the gurney, covered him, then moved his IV’s, then he went to stand next to his friend before they wheeled him out. Roy reached down and squeezed Johnny’s forearm. “I’ll see you after surgery, Junior.”

Johnny was too woozy to be scared anymore. “’Kay, Pally. Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“I will.”

They wheeled him from the room, and the door swung shut, leaving Roy standing alone.

 

The next twenty-four hours were long and tiring. After letting Debbie know where she could reach him should she need to get a hold of him, Roy left Century Pavilion at nine o’clock to go visit with Joanne at Rampart. First, he went back to Captain Stanley’s house to pick up the kids to take them with him. Knowing it was time he told them about Johnny, he waited until they were all together, then explained the situation to all three, leaving out a lot of the details that none of them needed to know. It was still too early to upset Joanne with the problems he was having with Wesley, and the kids were too young to understand. He was going to have to give some serious thought as to how he was going to explain to his children that they wouldn’t be going over to their ‘Uncle Wesley’s’ house any more. Joanne could tell there was information Roy was leaving out about Johnny, but was care not to ask about it in front of her children. She would save that for later when the two of them were alone.

Around noon, Roy called Debbie at Pavilion, but she had no news. Johnny wasn’t back from surgery yet. Roy stayed while Joanne had lunch in her room, then left with the kids, picking up some McDonalds’ for them before dropping them off at Hank and Gloria Stanley’s house. It was nearly two-thirty as he rushed back to Century Pavilion to see Johnny. He was breathless by the time he got back to Johnny’s room, only to find he wasn’t there. A little alarmed that Johnny wasn’t out of surgery, he went to track down Debbie, who he found a few minutes later. Roy sighed in relief when she assured him that everything had gone well, and that Johnny was in recovery. A slight complication had arisen which came as no surprise to Roy, and that was that Johnny was again having an adverse reaction to the anesthesia, and they were trying to get his vomiting under control in recovery before they brought him back up to the room.

At three o’clock, they finally wheeled a very pale and spent-looking Johnny back into his room, and transferred him to the bed. His head was encased in white bandages, and little bits of his dark, unruly hair poked out here and there. Every few seconds he was softly groaning, and Roy could tell he was feeling pretty sick. Roy’s stomach clenched in dismay when his friend’s eyes opened briefly, and were unable to focus on him. Johnny was obviously still blind.

“Johnny?” he called softly.

He was answered with another groan.

“Hey. It’s me, Roy. I told you I’d be here when you got back.”

Johnny’s eyes opened again halfway and they wandered lethargically around, as if searching for the location of the voice he heard. “Rroy…”

“Yeah, Johnny. What is it?”

Johnny shook his head slightly. “Can’t see…”

“I know.”

“….didn’t work.”

“Johnny, you just got out of surgery. You have to give it time. Remember what Dr. Early said.”

“Roy…..you can go. Gonna….sleep…”

“It’s all right, Johnny. I’ll stay here with you in case you need anything.”

Johnny turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

 

An hour later, Roy finally decided to go find a magazine to read, and left the room. He returned fifteen minutes later with a ‘Sports Illustrated’ and a cup of coffee, then settled himself back into the uncomfortable chair next to the bed. Johnny was still asleep.

Johnny awoke abruptly with a deep gasp, and threw up before Roy had a chance to react. The light-haired paramedic pushed the call button as Johnny lay on his side near the edge of the bed, continuing to dry heave. Searching around for an emesis basin, he snatched one off the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed, and shoved it into Johnny’s hands. Then he ran to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels, wetting one of them. By the time he was back by Johnny’s side, he had stopped retching, and was holding his head, wincing in pain.

Roy helped Johnny lay back and used the cold wet towel to wipe his face and hands, all the while offering soothing encouragement. Johnny was shaking from the effort, his breath coming out in short pants. He felt dizzy again, and clutched at the bedside rail; even in blindness, he felt the room was spinning. Roy repeated his earlier actions of that morning, elevating Johnny’s legs with pillows, and lowering the head of the bed slightly. He used the dry towel to clean up the side of the bed, although fortunately, it wasn’t too messy since Johnny didn’t have much in his stomach. By the time he’d gotten Johnny situated, the nurse arrived. Debbie had finished her shift, and a forty-something nurse named Janice had taken her place. She had a great bedside manner, and had the sheets changed without much ado in under five minutes. After checking all John’s vitals and making sure he was settled, she left.

Johnny was allowed to have ice chips, and Janice brought him a 7-Up to sip on, in addition to some more anti-nausea medication. By seven o’clock, his stomach was more settled, but the headache he’d had since waking up from surgery had turned severe. The pain medication Janice brought eased it somewhat, but Roy could hardly stand to sit and watch him laying there, his eyes tightly closed, grimacing in pain. Johnny kept turning from side to side, trying to find a position where his head didn’t hurt. He finally caved in to the exhaustion and fell asleep, despite the agony in his head.

Roy made sure he kept everyone posted that day regarding John’s surgery, and made calls to everyone. Chet had wanted to stop by, but since Johnny was so sick, Roy persuaded him and the others to wait a day or two until Johnny felt a little better. He knew that if it were him lying in bed moaning in pain and puking his guts out, he sure wouldn’t have wanted anyone around. The day finally came to an end, and exhausted, Roy finally left at eight o’clock, feeling there was nothing more he could do.

 

 

Roy was glad to have a good excuse to take the next shift off. Today was the day that Joanne was to go home, and he needed to be at the hospital by ten o’clock to pick her up. The children were back in school, so he didn’t need to bring them, and Gloria Stanley made sure they got there. Fortunately, Eileen was due to arrive that afternoon as well, and she would pick them up from school at three o’clock. Both kids were looking forward to having their mother home, and also to being home themselves.

Knowing that he would be with Joanne a good part of the day, Roy tried to divide his time as diplomatically between her and Johnny as he could. Unfortunately, he knew he would be the only visitor for Johnny, since the rest of the crew would be working, so he felt he had to spent at least some time at the hospital with Johnny today, especially given his rather fragile mental outlook. The fact that he’d woken up blind wasn’t aiding his frame of mind any.

It was another long day, starting out with a quick stop at Century Pavilion to see Johnny, followed by a trip to Rampart to pick up Joanne. It was home after that, and Eileen showed up around 2:00, then left to pick up Roy’s kids later. Joanne was still having some pain, and still had a cast on, but was learning to use crutches to get around on, and was greatly thankful to be home. Roy had made a late night effort the night before to clean everything up, straightening the pictures and picking up the knick-knacks that had fallen during the earthquake that he hadn’t bothered to get to before. Aside from a few minor cracks in the walls, and the job he needed to do on the basement stair rail, his house was in pretty good shape. That he was thankful for. Especially after he’d driven by Johnny’s house.

After Roy had dropped the kids off the day before, his morbid curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d decided to drive by Johnny’s house to survey the damage. Chet had told him how bad it was, but he was still shocked to see the once magnificent house was now reduced to a pile of charred rubble. He gingerly walked all the way around the house, stepping around all the fallen debris, shaking his head in sorrow at the huge loss. He stopped a minute out by the pool, the water now mostly drained from the massive cracks it had suffered, and noticed the two empty beer bottles sitting on the concrete next to the lounge chair. Ironically, they had stayed upright, as if they hadn’t moved at all from the time Johnny had obviously set them there. Roy tried to imagine him sitting there, drinking the beers, the night of the earthquake, and wondered what he might have been thinking. Chet had said he and Heather had broken up that afternoon, and Roy surmised that Johnny had been out there trying to drown his sorrows.

Eileen had fixed a nice dinner for them all that night, but Roy had a hard time swallowing it, with worrying about Johnny. He was beginning to wonder if the surgery really did work. He guessed time would tell. Feeling guilty about leaving his family that night, their first night home, Joanne encouraged Roy to go visit Johnny anyway, knowing he was going to need someone. Roy had finally told Joanne about Heather and John’s breakup, and despite the fact that she would have rather had Roy at home that night, she knew Johnny was going to need some company. He held off telling her all the other problems going on with Wesley at work.

 

 

Roy got up early the next morning and used the time to work on the basement stair railing. Chet and Hank had plans to visit Johnny that day, so Roy decided to wait until the evening to see him. He was relieved to find that Johnny was feeling better; at least the nausea seemed to have abated. He was still having some pretty severe headaches, but medication helped to ease the worst of it. Roy didn’t know whether it was because Gage was so drugged, or if he was just depressed, but Johnny seemed very despondent that night. He chalked it up to a combination of the two, and tried his best to offer a cheerful conversation to take his mind off things. He couldn’t manage to squeeze one single smile from his friend; in fact, Johnny’s face remained painfully blank most of the evening. Roy finally said goodnight to him at eight o’clock, promising to call the next day while he was at work.

Driving home from the hospital, Roy was filled with a feeling of dread, and it made him angry when he thought about the fact that he shouldn’t have to feel that way. He’d always enjoyed coming to work before, now the thought of another day at Station 51 only caused anxiety. He wondered what would happen between him and Wesley, and almost grew nauseous at the thought of having to ride side by side with the man in the squad. How was he going to get through the day without exploding at him? Roy wondered how Chet had managed the previous shift; the Irishman had probably had to force himself to just stay away from Wes in order to remain civil. Hopefully Captain Stanley had had a talk with Adams about his behavior, and maybe that would quell any problems.

 

As it turned out, Hank Stanley had had a serious talk with Wes the day after Johnny’s surgery when they were all back at work, minus Roy. There hadn’t been a whole lot he could say. In the beginning, he tried to stay neutral, explaining without getting too specific, that his actions were causing Roy to feel uncomfortable, and would he please be sensitive to it and try to restrain himself. That went over like a lead balloon, and Cap immediately saw a mask of defensiveness cover Wesley’s face. He denied any wrongdoing, saying that Roy was imagining things, and Hank could see that the man was going to admit to nothing. Not having any concrete proof of his discrepancies, he elected to just warn the man that he was going to be watched, and that he expected appropriate behavior. In addition to that, Wesley was incensed when the Cap told him he was no longer allowed to answer the telephone. If he received a call for himself, he could take it, but he was to let the other members of the crew answer the telephone. The reasoning was because of Wesley’s lack of responsibly passing along important telephone messages.

 

 

Roy’s next shift was uncomfortable, to say the least. Other than what was necessary for the job, Roy refused to speak to Wesley, and spent the day ignoring him. What he’d done to Johnny and himself was unforgivable as far as Roy was concerned, and Roy felt the man wasn’t worthy of any kindness.

It served to make everyone edgy, and Captain Stanley watched his men avoid Wesley with growing dismay. After everyone found out what Adams had done, courtesy of Chet, none of them could find it in themselves to be forgiving. It was as if an outsider had come in and defaced two of their crew, and now their defenses were up in protection of those two men. Wesley wasn’t worthy of their respect any more, and Captain Stanley knew it was only a matter of time before something happened, and this whole thing would blow up. Deep down he hoped that Wesley would decide to leave on his own.

 

They were on their way back from a run, and Wesley could hardly stand Roy’s cold callousness any more. He’d held himself back all day, hoping things would blow over, hoping that Roy would talk to him, and give him a chance to explain, but it hadn’t happened, and Wes was beside himself. Not being able to hold back any longer, his hand moved out toward Roy in a gesture he found he couldn’t control.

Roy was driving, doing his best to ignore Wes, when he felt a hand come to rest on his thigh, and heard a voice. “Roy?”

            Caught off guard, the action repelled Roy so badly that he reacted with a severe jolt, causing him to swerve in his lane, which elicited the blare of a horn from an angry motorist. Reacting immediately, Roy corrected his vehicle, then angrily slapped Wes’s hand away from his thigh. He glanced angrily at Wes, and his voice shook. “Keep your hands off me, Wes.”

            Wes recoiled momentarily, taken aback by the venomous look in DeSoto’s eyes. “Roy, please listen to me. I…I just wanna explain.”

            “Wes, I don’t wanna hear any of your explanations.”

            “Roy, look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gage. I honestly forgot about it.”

            Roy glared at him.

            “I did! We got a run right after his girlfriend called,” he lied, “and I was tired when we got back, and I forgot. And then a day went by and I figured that she would have called you about it. By the time I thought to tell you, well, I was too embarrassed to admit I had forgotten.”

            As much as Roy didn’t want to argue with the man, he found himself unable to keep from responding. “Wes, you didn’t forget. You purposefully didn’t tell me about Johnny because for some sick reason, you’re jealous of him.”

            “That’s not true, Roy. I don’t have anything against Gage.”

            Roy laughed angrily. “Right. You certainly made that clear the other day.”

            “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just mad at that asshole Kelly.”

            The name-calling incensed Roy further, and he steered the truck into a parking lot and threw it into park. Turning to Wes, his voice was almost trembling as he spat out his warning. “That’s enough! I don’t want to hear another word from you about Chet Kelly or Johnny or anyone in this crew. I’ve had enough of your lies and deceptions. From now on, I expect you to do your job and that is all. And unless I ask, you’re to stay out of my life and my personal business. Got it?”

            Wesley’s face looked defiant and menacing at the same time, and it almost caused Roy to flinch away from the man. But he held his stare with steely determination, almost daring Adams to defy him. The following response was unexpected and threw Roy. Wesley’s face melted into an expression of utter sadness, and the man cast his eyes downward like a puppy dog who’d been scolded.

            “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “Sometimes…I just can’t help myself. I…I just wanted…a friend….ever since,” he swallowed dramatically, “my partner died….I’m sorry, Roy…I didn’t mean….to cause so much trouble. Now everyone hates me….”

            Roy sighed inwardly; an unbidden feeling of guilt cooling his anger. The man was trying to manipulate him, and he knew it. But just the same, he found it hard to rebuke him further, feeling like he was striking a man when he was already down. Softly, he said, “Wes, lying and hurting others won’t win you friends.”

            The stout man pursed his lips together and nodded silently. “I know. I guess I just don’t know how….I mean…I try too hard. I’m sorry…I won’t bother you any more.”

            Roy stared out the windshield, his jaw working. A minute went by, and Roy decided there really wasn’t anything else he wanted to say. “Let’s get back to work.” He threw the gearshift into reverse, backed up, and drove back to the station.

 

            Knowing it would throw salt into Wesley’s wounds, but not really caring, Roy felt compelled anyway to call Johnny at the hospital the minute they returned. It was already four o’clock, and he was concerned about how Johnny was doing. Johnny had been so despondent the last time he’d seen him, he wanted to make sure he was doing better. Thinking it would be good medicine, Roy planned to place the call, then let all the guys at the station talk to Johnny.

            Finding all the others in the day room, Roy announced he would be making the call, and asked if anyone wanted to say hello to Johnny. All replied enthusiastically that they would, and watched while Roy went to the phone and dialed the number. Chet eyed Wesley as he made his way to the sofa to sit down with a cup of coffee. He couldn’t read his stony face, and wondered how things had been going for Roy so far that day.

            Roy held the phone to his face, waiting for Johnny to pick up the telephone in his room. His brows rose in surprise when he heard a familiar female voice answer on the other end of the line. “Dix!”

            “Is this Roy?” she recognized his voice as well.

            “Yeah. Hi, Dix! I wondered where you were today. We’ve been at Rampart three times already today.”

            “Yes, well, I had to beg, but Kel finally gave me a day off. Couldn’t keep me away from visiting one of my favorite paramedics.” She winked at Johnny, then remembering he couldn’t see, squeezed his arm lightly.

            Roy smiled at her remark, knowing she said it purposefully to cheer up Johnny.

            Johnny had reacted with a tiny smile that he’d forced for her benefit, knowing she expected a response.

            Roy was glad Dixie had answered the phone; it gave him a chance to find out how Johnny really was, and to see if he’d gotten any vision back. He didn’t want to ask Johnny himself, knowing it would only depress him if there had been no change. “How’s Johnny doing today, Dix? Is he…ah…any better?”

            She knew what he meant. Since she’d gotten there, she’d noticed that Johnny was definitely withdrawn and depressed, which she couldn’t really blame him for. It was a normal response, given everything he’d been through. Dixie only wished that Johnny were at Rampart, where she would have been able to stop and see him more often, and monitor his condition better. It was frustrating to have him so far away. “Well, I’d say he’s recovering well from the surgery, Roy. We’re having a nice visit; I’ve been reading one of my favorite books to him to keep him entertained.”

            Johnny wasn’t fooled by her subtle attempt to let Roy know he was still blind, but he didn’t give any indication of it.

            “He’s right here, Roy; you want to talk to him?”

            “Yeah, Dix. Put him on.”

            “Okay.”

            Roy heard the shuffle of the phone as Dixie fitted it into Johnny’s hand, then heard a toneless, “Hi, Roy.”

            Roy’s response slipped out unintentionally, but was heard by all, and raised some eyebrows. “Hi, Partner. How’re you doin’?”

            Wesley sat stiff as a statue on the sofa, pretending he hadn’t just heard Roy call Johnny ‘Partner’. Inside, he was boiling.

            The others listened as Roy chatted briefly with Johnny, then enthusiastically announced that everyone else wanted to talk to him. One by one, everyone save Wesley got on the line and spoke to Johnny, each one trying to cheer him up. Roy watched as each man talked with him, and a warm feeling grew inside him. Johnny wasn’t there, but somehow just being at the station and talking with him made his spirits rise. After Mike finished his brief conversation with John, Roy took the phone back and finally said good-bye, promising he’d be by the next day to see him. He caught sight of Wesley, who had been staring at him from the couch, and immediately his mood plummeted. Ignoring Adams, Roy walked over to the kitchen counter to pour a cup of coffee.

            Chet walked up and stood next to him. “Boy, Johnny sounded depressed.”

            “Yeah, he did,” Marco echoed.

            “I know,” Mike agreed.

            “Well, it’s not surprising, given his circumstances,” Captain Stanley observed. “If you think about everything that’s happened to him, and now the surgery and the blindness, it’s certainly understandable.”

            “Yeah, Cap. It’s just really sad.” Marco began pulling some plates out of the kitchen cabinet and started setting the table for dinner. “Roy, you think he’s gonna get his sight back?”

            Roy sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t know, Marco. The doctors think it’s only temporary. He had a lot of swelling and pressure around his optical nerves; and I’m sure the surgery aggravated that somewhat. I’m hoping that it’ll come back; I mean, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t, now that the blood clot is gone.”

            “Well, let’s all pray that happens.” Captain Stanley shoved his pen into his shirt pocket and began gathering up some of his papers that were spread on the table. “And let’s hope when it does that it helps pull him out of his depression.”

            “Yeah, well, I think it’s important that Johnny knows he’s still got all his friends,” Chet emphasized the word ‘all’ while casting an irritated glare at Wesley, who was still on the couch pretending to ignore them all. “I’m gonna go see him tomorrow morning after work. Anybody want to come with me?”

            “I’ll come, Chet,” Marco answered.

            “I’d like to come,” Mike echoed.

            “Roy?” Chet asked.

            “Yeah, Chet; I’m gonna be there. I gotta go home first and make sure Joanne’s okay.”

            “Sure, Roy. That’ll be better; then we can spread out the visits so Johnny has someone there all day.”

            “Well, Grace and I were going to stop by tomorrow evening,” Hank chimed in, “so, he should have someone around most of the day.”

            “Thanks, Cap,” Roy commented. “I think Johnny’ll appreciate that.”

            “Good. Now that that’s settled, Mike, what are you making for supper?”

            “Fried chicken, Cap.”

            “Hey, that sounds great, Mike. Let’s get it started. I’m starving.”

            Mike pulled the chicken out of the refrigerator. He’d already been working on the breading while the others were talking.

            “Hey, guys, why don’t we save a few pieces for Johnny and take ‘em to the hospital tomorrow?”

            “Yeah! Great idea, Chet! You know how Johnny loves cold leftover chicken.”

Both Roy and the Cap smiled at the effort the guys were making on Johnny’s behalf. It was the first time in weeks that it felt like the crew was really working together as a team, but the fact that Wesley was still there and was now considered an outcast hung over their mood like a cold shadow.

 

Later that evening, Roy went into the dorm to call Joanne. After a short conversation with Eileen, Joanne, and then a goodnight to his two children, he hung up. He walked through the bathroom and found Chet in front of the mirror brushing his teeth.

“How’s Joanne?” he mumbled through toothpaste.

Roy nodded. “She’s doing pretty good. I’m glad Eileen is there.”

Chet knew what he meant. Roy wasn’t just glad Eileen was there; he was also glad his kids didn’t have to stay at Wesley’s any more. “Yeah. Me too.” Chet cupped his hands in the flow of water from the faucet and rinsed his mouth. Wiping his face on a towel, he quietly asked, “How’d things go with Adams today?”

Roy sighed deeply and leaned against the bathroom counter, folding his arms. He thought a moment, then finally said, “I don’t think it’s gonna work, Chet. I don’t know how much longer I can work with him.”

Chet nodded knowingly. “I know what you mean. The jerk makes me nervous.”

The two were quiet a moment, then Chet broke the silence. “Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“I was talkin’ to Cindy, and I think I’m gonna take a few days off next week. I’ve got a little vacation time coming, and we’re gonna drive up to Vegas.”

Roy turned, unsure of what Chet was getting at. “Vegas?” His eyes widened. “You’re not gonna – ”

Chet stared at him, then comprehended Roy’s surprised expression. “Oh, no, no no; we’re not gonna get married, Roy. God, my mother would kill me if I didn’t have a big church wedding, although,” he played with his mustache and smiled, “it would be fun.”

Roy smiled, glad that Chet had seemingly found a nice girl he could finally settle down with.

“No, actually, we’re just gonna go do some gambling….and….I thought I’d visit a couple of Nevada fire stations and, ah, see if I can find out any information.”

Roy eyed Chet sideways, then turned to face him. “You mean…information about Wesley, where he worked before.”

“Yep. There’s something strange about him, Roy; something none of us know about, and I’m gonna find out what it is. Maybe if I can dig up enough dirt on him, we can get rid of him.”

Roy inhaled nervously. “Just be careful, Chet. Don’t do something to sacrifice your own career.”

“Oh, I won’t. It’s just gonna be a nice little getaway, and I’m gonna visit some of my fellow brothers in a neighboring state; that’s all.”

Roy thought a moment. “Well, maybe that’s a good idea. At least we can find out if there’s anything in Wesley’s history that we should be concerned about.”

“Right. You know, he jumped around quite a bit at different stations, and it never was explained exactly how his partner died.”

“Yeah; I know what you mean.” Roy decided to end the conversation, nervous about talking about Wesley in the same building. “C’mon; Adam 12 is on. Let’s not miss it.” Roy smiled to himself, remembering a time not too long ago when his former partner was obsessed with the outcome of one of those Adam 12 episodes. He’d ended up in the hospital that night too, and Roy wondered to himself if Johnny had ever gotten the chance to see the rerun of that episode.

Chet turned out the light and walked toward the engine bay door, with Roy following him. They didn’t hear the door silently swing shut or hear the footsteps of the heavyset man leave who had just overheard their entire conversation.

 

 

Wesley opened his eyes and looked at the clock. It was almost three a.m. Slowly, he dared turn his head, hoping even that small movement wouldn’t be heard. He had been laying there now nearly four hours, waiting to make absolutely sure everyone was asleep. Now, as he surveyed the room, all the men appeared to be sound asleep; the room was filled with quiet breathing.

Taking extreme care not to rustle his sheets, Adams slipped out of bed, stepped into his turnout gear, and pulled them up carefully in one fluid movement. He looked around; no one stirred. Silently, he tiptoed out of the dorm, into the engine bay, and out into the back parking lot. His heart was pounding from the adrenalin, knowing he was taking a big chance, that if the tones went off and they found him out here….

He made quick work and had wiggled his way under Chet Kelly’s van in seconds, all the while continuing to convince himself that this was his only solution. Something had to be done about Kelly; he couldn’t allow him to go snooping around at his places of previous employment. If he did, Kelly would be loaded with the ammunition needed to terminate his employment at Station 51, and he couldn’t let that happen. There’s no way anyone would work with him if they found out the story of how his partner died, or why he’d left the other stations. They were already unhappy with him; this information would ruin everything for him, and he was tired of running. Tired of going from station to station because things didn’t work out. And now it was happening again, but he’d decided that maybe the whole thing would blow over if he just kept his cool and toned things down. Roy would come around, he was sure of it; he just had to give him some time, and turn on the charm. He would lay off for a while, until Roy cooled off, then he would start all over.

 It only took a minute to accomplish what he had set out to do, then he was out again and heading toward the engine bay door. He was back in bed in under ten minutes. He was sure no one had noticed him leave.

 

 

Part 11