Serendipity

  Part 12

Roy was true to his word, and as soon as he returned home in the morning, he changed his clothes, had a quick breakfast, then drove Joanne and Johnny to Rampart to see Chet. The Irishman was still in ICU, and while Dr. Brackett was encouraged that he had remained stable through the night, he was still concerned that Chet hadn’t regained consciousness.

Johnny waited while Roy and Joanne went in to see him; they were only allowing two visitors in at a time and only for about five minutes each. Then it was his turn, and he entered Chet’s cubicle, passing a very grim-faced Roy and Joanne on the way in.

Johnny walked slowly to stand by the bed, first taking in all the medical paraphernalia around Chet before actually daring to look down at him. All the usual stuff was there, heart monitor, ventilator, IV’s, catheter, oxygen saturation monitor, central line. Johnny shivered when he looked down at Chet; he resembled a corpse; his face was white as a sheet, and he appeared sort of sunken in to the mattress. It was a shock to see the usual lively fireman so still, and Johnny swallowed convulsively. I wonder if I looked this bad when I was in here like this. Man, it’s not easy to see someone this way. No wonder Roy teases me about giving him gray hairs when I’m in the hospital. Though it was difficult, Johnny forced himself to look down at Chet, his mind subconsciously willing Chet awake.

Johnny spoke softly. “C’mon, Kelly; wake up man. You slept all night; quit bein’ so lazy and open your eyes.” Chet remained eerily still; his only movement that of his chest going up and down from the forced action of the ventilator. “I know; you’re tryin’ to get me back, aren’t ya? Well, you don’t have to be so dramatic.” Johnny looked away, swiping his hand across his face. “God, you are so competitive…you know you don’t have to try to one up me on this…I’ve still got ya beat.” His face broke into a crooked grin, then it fell away quickly.

Johnny’s fist came down on the bedrail. “Damn it, Chet! Now, come on. Cut it out!” Johnny paced around the bed, then stopped on the other side, looking down at his Phantom friend. “You owe me one, you know that, don’t cha? I mean, I pulled through all that shit I went through, now it’s your turn. You better wake up, damn it, because…because, I’m comin’ back to work, and I want a chance to get even with ya.” Johnny rubbed his hands together. “Man, I’ve had all this time to think about the tricks I’m gonna play on ya, and I’ve come up with some good ones – much more original than water bombs. You won’t know what hit ya….” His voice trailed off and his face fell.

He sank down into the chair by the bed, and his head dropped into his hand. He sighed deeply, and his eyes lifted solemnly to look at Chet, his head still bent. Slowly, almost on its own accord, John’s hand slid up through the bed rail and grasped Chet’s forearm. “C’mon, Chet,” he whispered almost desperately. Johnny was just ready to pull his hand away when he felt Chet flinch. Johnny jerked his head up, staring at him, searching for any further movement. Chet remained silent, unmoving. Johnny released his grip on Chet’s arm. Just a muscle contraction I guess. He sighed, and stood up, knowing his time was over. Johnny put one hand on the bedrail and the other he rested on the mattress. Bending over Chet, he said, “Hey, man. I’ve gotta go. But I’ll be back to see ya. Next time I come I wanna see you awake, okay?” Johnny remained there, bent over, until he heard a soft voice at the doorway. It was Roy.

“Johnny.”

The dark-haired man looked over toward the open door.

“They say we’ve got to go.”

Johnny nodded, took one last look at Chet, then left, quickly grabbing and squeezing Chet’s foot through the covers on the way out. He had attempted to make his gesture surreptitious, but Roy noticed it.

They collected Joanne, who was in a wheelchair today, and walked toward the elevator.

“Let’s go find Brackett,” Johnny suggested.

“Okay.” Roy was just as anxious to speak with the doctor about Chet’s condition as Johnny was.

When they reached the ER, things happened to be quiet, and Dixie told them Kel was in his office. They were lucky they got to talk to him, and were somewhat encouraged by the doctor’s words.

Chet had remained stable throughout the night, and his oxygen saturation levels had improved. Dr. Brackett was waiting for the latest ABG results to determine how much longer he might need to be on the vent. He still didn’t know whether Chet had suffered any brain damage; so far all the tests they had run were inconclusive. They would know much more when he regained consciousness.

The three left the doctor’s office, and waited while Joanne made a stop in the ladies’ room. Johnny and Roy were quietly leaning again the wall, each lost in their own thoughts, when suddenly Johnny’s arm swung outward forming a fist. He drew it backward forcefully, slamming it into the wall, making Roy jump.

Johnny turned abruptly to look at Roy. “That Goddamned son-of-a-bitch left him in there.” Johnny spoke through gritted teeth, his jaw set.

Roy looked at Johnny, silently chewing on his cheek, his own anger slowly beginning to smolder again, fueled by Johnny’s.

Johnny was practically shaking with anger as he looked imploringly at Roy. “Roy, you were there. That motherfucker did it on purpose, and you know it.”

Roy stared hard at Johnny, knowing he was right. Closing his eyes, he sighed and turned, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Johnny, I don’t know. There’s no way to prove it. I, I just have a hard time believing – ”

“Well, believe it!” Johnny’s voice rose. “Roy, you know. You know! I can see it in your face! The man is a danger! We’ve got to do something about it!” He banged his fist on the wall again in frustration.

“What, Johnny? What do you propose?” Now Roy’s voice was rising.

“I don’t know! All I know is that I’d like to kill him!”

“Johnny, get a grip on yourself! Look, I know how you feel; I feel the same way. But there’s nothing we can do!”

“What are you gonna do? Wait ‘till he tries to kill someone else?” Johnny was almost yelling now.

“What do you want me to do, Johnny? Huh? Tell me! What do you want me to do?”

Joanne stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, using her crutches to make her way back to the wheelchair. Her eyes were wide as she took in the two men yelling at one another, both eyes blazing. Others were beginning to notice too, and she made her way quickly over to them.

“Stop it. Stop it right now,” she ordered in the same practiced tone she used with her own children when they were fighting.

Astonished, both men turned to look at her, both suddenly realizing simultaneously how childishly they were acting. Equally red-faced, they both seemed to deflate; it was almost comic how both men slowly turned and ran matching fingers through their hair at the same time while taking in a breath and blowing it out.

Johnny turned back to Roy, looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me too,” Roy answered back.

Johnny shook his head. “You’re right; it’s just….”

“You don’t have to explain. I understand. And you’re right too. The man is a danger.” He turned to Jo. “Honey, Johnny and I both think Wesley Adams did this to Chet on purpose.”

Jo’s eyes widened in fear. She was silent a long time, then said, “Roy, I don’t want you working with him any more.”

Roy and Johnny glanced at each other, and Roy saw the concurrence in Johnny’s eyes. He sighed. “All right.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to the Cap.” He looked around a moment. “What do you say we go home?”

Johnny nodded.

“Let’s,” Joanne agreed.

Three very somber and worried people left Rampart.

Good news came as the day wore on. Chet’s arterial blood gases were improved enough that Dr. Brackett decided to start trying to wean him off the vent. He was hoping that the trauma to Chet’s lungs hadn’t been as significant as he’d originally thought. If he was able to breathe well enough on his own, it might be possible to take him off the vent in the next day or two.

He had also begun showing some signs of consciousness. As his family kept vigil around him whenever allowed to visit, they noticed his eyes moving beneath his lids, and once that afternoon, he even opened his eyes for a moment. By the evening, Chet was opening and closing his eyes frequently, and had begun looking around at the people in the room with him, for short moments at a time.

His family and Cindy were elated to see him responding, after thinking for almost a day that they were going to lose him. Chet’s demeanor, however, seemed to be a bit troubling. The more he awakened, the more restless he became. When his family was told they had to leave for the day, Chet seemed to get upset, his eyes darting around frantically. He began to thrash in the bed, setting the vent alarm off repeatedly. They tried calming him with words, thinking maybe he was confused and scared, maybe didn’t know what happened to him, but the more they explained, the more upset he got. Finally, Dr. Brackett had to order a sedative for him, and he remained quiet for the night.

Roy, Johnny, and Joanne were all relieved to get a call from Chet’s sister that night, telling them the news that Chet had improved significantly. They made plans to visit him that next day; Joanne had physical therapy in the morning, and so Roy decided that while they were at the hospital they would stop in and see Chet.

Johnny was anxious to see his friend too, but the next morning, decided to wait and go with Roy later in the day, since he had awoken with a splitting headache. He chalked it up to the stress he was experiencing over Chet’s accident. At any rate, he didn’t want to have to wait at the hospital over two hours while Joanne was in physical therapy. They would probably only be able to visit with Chet for ten or fifteen minutes, so it seemed pointless to hang around the hospital with nothing to do for the other two hours when he wasn’t feeling well. He figured he’d rest and take some analgesics, and by later in the day, he’d feel well enough to see Chet. He also had some personal things he wanted to work on; phone calls and laundry, and guiltily, was actually looking forward to being alone for a little while. He didn’t tell Roy and Joanne, but he had been looking at some apartments to rent in the newspaper, and wanted to make some calls about them.

The decision not to go would prove to be a mistake.

Wesley knew that Roy took Joanne to physical therapy on Wednesday mornings, and decided to use that window of opportunity to finish his dirty deed. Taking a chance that Gage wouldn’t go with them, he drove to the DeSoto’s neighborhood early that morning, parked his truck on the next block in a location where he would be able to see the DeSoto garage, but where he would not be visible.  Some large evergreens blocked their view of him, but he was able to sit parked in his truck and watch anyone who came out of the house. He knew that Roy would be going the opposite direction on the street in order to get to Rampart, so he felt relatively safe that he wouldn’t be seen.

His intention was to make it look like a robbery. He hadn’t really thought it through that much, but after Gage was dead, he would mess up the house and steal a few things to throw the scent off of himself.

Clapping his hands together and rubbing them, he almost salivated when he saw Roy helping Joanne to their car right at ten o’clock – right on time for their ten-thirty appointment. Everything was going perfect so far. He watched as Roy backed the car out of the driveway, and maneuvered the vehicle down the street, in the other direction, just as he’d anticipated. There was no sign of Gage.

He decided to wait awhile, just to make sure they wouldn’t turn around and come back, having forgotten something. Trying to calm himself, he sat and listened to music on the radio for nearly thirty minutes before he finally got the nerve to get out. When he finally did, he saw someone walking down the sidewalk, and jumped back into his truck hastily. He became more nervous then, worried that he might be seen, and hunched down low in his seat, waiting for an opportunity to get out when no one was around. It seemed like every time he psyched himself up to get out of the truck, he saw someone near by and was unable to leave clandestinely. He waited a long time for one of the neighbors to water her flowers, then two other neighbors started a conversation in one of their yards, then it was the mailman. Finally, over an hour later after he had parked, everything seemed quiet, and he stealthily slid out of his truck. He walked as quickly as possible through the neighboring yards, staying away from windows whenever possible, until he reached the DeSoto’s front porch.

Roy delivered Joanne to the physical therapy room, then decided to go up and see Chet while Joanne got started. He ran into Jim, the physical therapy specialist that had helped Johnny, and they sat and talked for a few minutes while Joanne’s therapist directed her exercises. Jim asked how Johnny was doing, and Roy gave him the rundown on everything that had happened to his friend. Jim was stunned, and asked Roy to relay his sympathy to Johnny and to tell him to stop by and see him. Roy enjoyed talking to him, and found out that Jim used to be a paramedic. He figured that maybe that’s why he and Johnny had clicked so well together during Johnny’s recovery. Jim said that he missed being a paramedic sometimes, but that he really got a lot of satisfaction out of his new career, and the pay was better too. Jim’s appointment came in, and Roy left to go to the ICU.

He ran into Chet’s sister in the elevator, who was on her way to get a cup of coffee. Colleen Kelly said her brother was resting comfortably, and reiterated the news she had told Roy the night before about the possibility of Dr. Brackett removing the vent today or tomorrow. They were waiting on new results of Chet’s arterial blood gas test taken that morning. She also told Roy how agitated Chet was every time he was awake, which distressed her. She worried that maybe what happened to him caused some emotional trauma as well, and said that Dr. Brackett was concerned his mental state might interfere with his recovery. Roy spoke with her a moment longer, then went to see his friend.

Chet looked asleep when Roy entered, and his eyes remained closed after Roy took a seat in the chair by his bed. He sat there for a while, wondering if he should try to let Chet know he was there, or just let his friend rest. After a couple minutes went by, Chet stirred, and Roy stood up, leaning over the bed.

“Chet?” he called tentatively.

Chet moved his head slightly; Roy saw his eyes move behind his lids.

“Hey, Chet. It’s Roy. You wanna wake up and visit? It’s gettin’ kinda boring in here,” he teased.

Chet visibly flinched, startling Roy, and then the Irishman blinked his eyes open. He seemed disoriented as his eyes flitted around the room.

“Hey, Chet,” Roy said gently.

Chet’s eyes finally focused on Roy, and a moment later, Roy saw what he thought was fear cross his expression.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just relax, all right? Do you know where you are?”

Chet just stared at Roy, his eyes growing wider. Suddenly, Chet’s left arm reached up and grabbed Roy’s sleeve, pulling on it. The Irishman had an urgent look in his eyes.

Roy was baffled as to what he wanted. With Chet not being able to speak, it was impossible to determine what could be going on in his mind. Roy had no idea how clearly his Irish friend might be thinking; he could be totally confused, which would account for his seemingly fearful disposition, or he could be in pain; Roy didn’t know which.

“Chet, what is it? Are you in pain?”

Chet shook his head in a jerking motion.

Hm. He seemed to understand that. “Do you know where you are?”

Chet’s eyes left Roy’s face and traveled around the room. He nodded slightly, then his eyes went back to Roy’s. He tugged on Roy’s shirtsleeve once more, and made a rough noise in his throat as if he were trying to speak.

“Chet, just relax, or you’re going to set the vent alarm off. Dr. Brackett says that if you keep improving, he’ll be able to take this thing out either today or tomorrow.”

Chet shook his head impatiently, and tried to speak, only managing a muffled groan. He continued pulling on Roy’s sleeve, and began to get aggravated, his body starting to writhe.

The vent alarm went off, and a nurse was in the room immediately to shut it off. “Calm down, Mr. Kelly,” she said gently. “C’mon now, you’ve got to relax so you can heal, or the doctor will have to give you something again to calm you down.”

Chet’s eyes took on a panicked look then, and he tried to shake his head vehemently, holding his hand up as if in a motion to push the nurse away.

“Okay, then, please try to relax, okay?”

Chet’s girlfriend Cindy walked in at that moment, having heard some of what was going on from just outside the door. She walked to his bedside, trying to sooth him, and Roy moved aside a bit. The nurse continued to adjust Chet’s ventilator. “Hi, honey,” Cindy crooned, smiling down at him. She took his hand. “It’s good to see you awake. You’re not giving the nurse any trouble, are you?” she teased.

He shook his head again, then spotting her purse, began clawing for it. Cindy looked down, trying to figure out what he wanted. “Chet, what are you doing?” He continued to try to grab for her purse. Roy looked on, puzzled.

“Chet, you want something in Cindy’s purse?”

He nodded fervently.

“What is it, honey?”

Chet looked from Cindy to Roy, his expression a combination of despair and frustration. His mind was still a bit muddy, and he struggled to figure out a way to let them know what he wanted, a way to communicate with them. Finally, with his left hand, he formed his fingers into a position of holding a pencil, and mimed writing.

“Writing?” Roy asked. “You want to write something?”

Chet nodded again excitedly.

“Chet, your right arm is in a cast. You can’t write,” Cindy countered.

Chet seemed to get upset, and clawed at her purse again. He knew she carried a small pad of paper and pen with her.

“Okay, okay,” she finally said, and fished the pad and pen out of her purse. She opened up the pad to a blank sheet of paper, and put the pen in Chet’s hand. It was very difficult to write anything in the prone position he was in, and with his left hand, but he finally managed to scribble something almost illegible onto the paper.

Roy and Cindy squinted at it, trying to decipher what he had written. “It starts with a ‘W’; water? Chet, are you thirsty?” Cindy asked.

He shook his head in frustration, and grabbed at the paper. Carefully, his hand shook as he tried to rewrite the word, left-handed, then wrote some more. When he handed the paper back to them, Cindy gasped, and Roy’s eyes grew wide with alarm. Together, they held the piece of paper, staring at it. The scribbling on the paper looked like, ‘Wesley tried to kill me.’

“Chet?” Roy licked his lips and looked down at him urgently. “Chet, does this say, ‘Wesley tried to…kill me’?”

Chet closed his eyes, nodding.

Roy and Cindy stared at each other in disbelief. Roy grabbed hold of the bedrail with one hand, and grasped Chet’s left arm with the other. “Chet, are you trying to say that Wesley tried to kill you in the fire?”

Chet stared at Roy, his eyes fearful, but clear. He nodded emphatically.

“Oh my God,” Cindy said.

Chet grabbed at the paper again, and Cindy held it for him while he wrote. Chet handed it back to her when he was through. ‘Johnny in danger’, is what it said.

“Johnny in danger,” Roy repeated, the realization of what he thought Chet meant breaking out on his face. He looked back down at Chet. “Johnny’s in danger? Is that what you mean, Chet?”

Chet nodded.

“How, Chet? Is Johnny in danger from Wesley?”

Chet nodded, growing more agitated.

“Chet, did Wesley say he was going to try to kill Johnny?” Roy asked anxiously.

Chet nodded again vehemently.

“Oh, shit.” Panic spread through Roy as he felt his stomach turn over. He looked at Cindy, then back at Chet, trying to figure out what to do. “I’ve gotta go,” he said frantically. He turned to look at Cindy and the nurse, who was still in the room, staring in disbelief. “Tell Dr. Brackett what Chet said. You’d better call the police too.” With that, Roy ran out the door.

Johnny hung up the phone, after having made his seventh telephone call, trying to find a suitable apartment. So far, two were a possibility; he would have to call back and make an appointment to see them next week, when he would be allowed to drive. He felt a little better than he had when he had woken up that morning, and was pleased that he had taken some steps to get on with his life. While he was very grateful to Roy and Joanne for having him into their home, it would be a relief to be out on his own again. And by the time he was able to leave, he was sure Joanne would be okay enough not to need him around. Craving his own space and solitude, he felt anxious for the days to pass so that he could be regain his ‘freedom’. At least it was something to look forward to; it had seemed like forever since he’d felt that way.

Johnny was in the kitchen pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee when he heard the doorbell ring. Joanne hadn’t said she was expecting anyone, so he was curious as to who was there. Maybe the mailman just had a package or something. His expression changed instantly from apathy to rage the minute he opened the door and saw Wesley Adams standing there. His jaw clenched instinctively, and he growled, “Roy’s not here. And he told you not to come around here again. You don’t listen too well, do you?”

Wesley held up his hands in resignation, his face a picture of sadness and shame. His frame was slumped and he resembled a little dog with his tail between his legs. Very softly, he said, “I…didn’t come here to talk to Roy. I came to talk to you.”

“I got nothin’ to say to you, man.” Johnny started to close the door.

Wesley pushed forward almost frantically. “Wait! Please, John; if you will just give me a minute and let me say what I need to say, then I’ll leave, and never come back. Please.” He started to cough.

Johnny’s instincts told him to slam the door in the man’s face, but he looked so pathetic, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he stood there, wavering slightly, then crossed his arms. “You got thirty seconds.”

“Thank you,” he said as sincerely as he could. “First, I wanted to apologize. I…I know I’ve done some shameful things to you…and the DeSotos, and I feel just terrible about it. I…I’ve never been able to make friends easily, and…well, I guess I…I don’t really have any excuse….maybe I need some help. Even my wife…has left me; took the children…” Wesley’s eyes met Johnny’s momentarily; they were glistening with tears, then looked downward in shame. “I just wanted to tell you…I’m sorry. And,” he looked back up, “I…I’m going to resign from Station 51; so you…you can have your position back if you want it.” He coughed harshly, pretending to try to stifle it.

For a moment, Johnny didn’t know what to say. The man seemed so sincere, so humble; he almost began to feel sorry for him. For a second, it made him wonder if maybe he had accused Wesley wrongly of harming Chet, for now, the large man seemed so gentle and harmless. Still, Johnny wasn’t going to cut him any slack. He’d done some abhorrent things, and he felt the man should pay for them. Johnny’s voice, however, wasn’t quite as stern as it had been. His forgiving nature and tendency for always giving the benefit of the doubt was about to be his downfall. “Okay. You had your thirty seconds. Now I think you better go.”

Wesley nodded, and coughed again, this time the coughs grew deeper. He kept on, seeming like he couldn’t stop, and started to grow red in the face. Johnny’s brows furrowed at the man as his eyes watered, and he hunched over as if he were beginning to choke.

“Can I…” he choked, “please….have some….water?”

Johnny’s mouth twisted, and he debated. The man really did seem to be in distress; it wasn’t John’s nature to just slam the door in someone’s face who was having difficulty breathing. Thinking if he got him a glass of water, he would then be able to get rid of him, he made his mistake, the same exact mistake he’d made with Doreen. “Just a minute.” Johnny walked away from the door and went into the kitchen to fetch a cup of water.

When he returned, Johnny was astonished to see that Wesley had let himself into the living room, had sat down on the sofa, and was still hacking away. The hairs on the back of Johnny’s neck went up in alarm, but he tried to quell his feelings of uneasiness, not really believing he was in any danger at the moment. Walking over to Wesley, he stood between the coffee table and the sofa, then handed the coughing man the cup of water.

The stout paramedic drank the water down, then asked for another cup, his coughing slightly abating.

Johnny looked disgusted as he went back into the kitchen to retrieve another cup of water, then came back with it. He handed it to Wesley, standing where he had stood before, and Wesley took a sip, sighing in relief.

“Thanks,” Wesley breathed, then stood up. “I’ll be leaving now.” He took another sip of the water, and in the blink of an eye, unexpectedly threw the almost full glass of water in Gage’s face.

Totally caught off guard, Johnny sputtered as the water flew into his eyes and nose, and turned away. Unable to see for a moment, he didn’t notice the fist Wesley drew back, but he felt it as it smashed into his face. Cheek and nose exploded in pain and Johnny was thrown off balance. He staggered backward, tripping and knocking over the coffee table, and landed sprawling on his back on the floor. In that sickening instant, he knew what Adams was up to, and tried to react as quickly as possible. When he looked up, the pain he was feeling in his face evaporated and his heart froze as he saw gleaming metal in the hand of the man standing over top him; Wesley’s arm was raised over his head, ready to descend, his knuckled wrapped menacingly around the handle of a large knife.

Wesley lunged, and the knife came swiftly down; Johnny rolled at the last second. Wesley embedded his knife into the shag carpeting, falling downward with it. Johnny jumped to his feet, but by then, Adams had his knife pulled out of the floor and was brandishing it wildly at Johnny.

Johnny did a backward dance, as Wesley swung the knife menacingly back and forth, making Johnny jump repeatedly out of his way. Gage’s arm flew out, knocking a lamp off an end table. Wesley swung again and again with the knife; Johnny backed away, but wasn’t able to get out of the way completely; the sharp blade flew across his midsection, slicing through his t-shirt, and opening up his skin like a zipper, which erupted in a wide arc of blood.

Johnny cried out, shocked at being cut, then rage overtook him and he went on the offensive. With a yell, he lunged forward, catching Wesley by surprise, and grabbed onto his wrist, twisting it, wrestling with him. Wesley fell backward into a chair, with Johnny landing over top of him, and the chair flipped backward, sending both men sailing over it and onto the floor.

Wesley still had the knife in his hand, but Johnny was on top of him again. Johnny’s teeth were clenched, and his face taut with strain as both his hands closed around the larger man’s wrist, his fingers digging in, trying to make him let go. Wesley clawed at Johnny, then drew his fist back again, catching the younger man in the mouth. Johnny’s teeth cut ruthlessly into his lip and cheek, and the sudden burst of pain caused him to loosen his grip on Wesley’s hand. Johnny rolled away, attempting to scramble to his feet, and Wesley lunged out with the knife once more, almost missing, but Johnny felt the burn as it sliced open another long area from his side almost to his spine. Once again, blood burst forth from the wound, and now Johnny was covered in it as it freely poured downward. Twisting and stumbling, he managed to get a distance away from Wesley again; Wesley was larger than he was, but Johnny was quicker and more agile. If Johnny hadn’t been weak from his recent hospital stay, he would have been stronger too, having built up his muscles for the last several months.

Johnny was gasping heavily from the pain; both men were sweating, their chests heaving with effort. For a moment, they stood facing each other, hunched over with their arms at the ready, Johnny on one side of a table, Wesley on the other, each glaring at the other, both trying to determine the next move his adversary might make.

Johnny swallowed, beginning to feel weak and a little dizzy. His body felt wet, and he knew it was from the blood, surmising that was what was making him lightheaded. He couldn’t pass out; if he did, he would be dead. His mind worked feverishly for a solution, knowing Wesley wouldn’t wait too long to make a move; he wasn’t going to stand on the other side of that table forever. The door was behind him, and it wasn’t that far away. Johnny figured at this point, his best option was to try to run; he wasn’t going to be able to fight Wesley off much longer, not in his weakened state, and not armed with any weapon.

Hoping he would be quick enough, Johnny turned suddenly, and made a dash for the door. Wesley ran around the table after him, then drew the knife back, taking careful aim. With all his might, he threw the knife, aiming for the center of Johnny’s back. Fortunately, hitting a fleeing man with a knife wasn’t an easy thing to do, even for someone who knew what he was doing. Wesley missed, and Johnny sensed the knife fly by him. With a loud ‘thunk’, it embedded itself into the wall next to the curtains.

Johnny had his hand on the doorknob, but Wesley was right behind him. The larger man threw his arm around Johnny’s neck, wrenched him backwards, and threw him to the floor, falling on top of him. Johnny wasn’t ready to give up the fight yet, and managed to draw his knee up, shoving his foot up under Wesley’s belly. With a hard thrust, he pushed the man off of him, then flung himself on top of him. Johnny drew his fist back, and slammed it into Wesley’s face, several times, bloodying the man’s face badly. The effort exhausted him, and suddenly, he felt Wesley’s hands wrap around his neck and squeeze. All at once the strength leaked out of Johnny, and Wesley was able to wrestle him off, rolling Johnny underneath him.

Panic enveloped Johnny then; his muscles felt like jello, and he fought fruitlessly against Wesley’s hands at his neck. Terror coursed through him as he stared up into Wesley’s crazed face, which was bleeding and red with rage; his tongue was sticking out in exertion as he continued to choke Johnny.

Johnny’s lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and he thought his windpipe would be crushed. There was nothing he could do, his arms and hands began to tingle, losing sensation, and the edges of his vision began to get white and hazy.

Johnny would have died that day had Roy not burst in the back door at that very moment. Roy’s mouth was agape as he took in the scene before him: Johnny on the floor, covered in blood, gagging, his legs hopelessly writhing while his fingers worked fruitlessly to pry away Wesley’s hands, which were wrapped tightly around his neck.

Wesley’s head jerked up at the sound of footsteps crashing through the kitchen and into the living room, and released his hold on Johnny. He and Roy stared at one another for a long second before he jumped up and headed toward the door, nearly tripping over a fallen lamp.

“Adams!” Roy screamed, and ran toward him, but stopped when he reached Johnny, who had rolled to his side and was gagging, his hands clawing at his neck.

Wesley flung the door open and took off like a scared deer, running through the yard and out of sight in seconds. Roy dropped to his knees beside Johnny, his shaking hands grabbing onto the man’s convulsing shoulders.

A loud gasp from behind him brought Roy’s head up and around, and he saw that Joanne had made her way into the house on her crutches. She looked around at her living room; nearly all the furniture was upended, lamps were on the floor, items lay broken everywhere. Blood was splattered on the floor, walls, and furniture, and Johnny was covered in it.

Roy briefly turned his attention back to Johnny, who had begun coughing now, but was also trying to push himself up. “Johnny,” he called frantically. “Johnny, are you all right? Can you breathe?”

Unable to answer, Johnny acknowledged Roy’s question with a nod, and he alternated between coughing and trying to breathe in gulps of air. His hand groped for Roy’s arm, and Roy sat down on the floor next to him, taking his hand and helping Johnny to sit up, leaning the bloody and gagging paramedic against his own body for support.

Roy looked over at his wife. “Joanne. Call the police, and a squad.”

Joanne stood paralyzed, staring open-mouthed at Johnny, taking in all the blood. Roy thought she looked faint.

“No,” Johnny croaked out. “No squad. I…I’m okay.” His voice was raspy from his windpipe being crushed. He struggled against Roy, almost frantically trying to get up. “Got to get Adams….he got….away…”

Roy grabbed his shoulders again, forcing him to stay on the floor. “Sit down. You’re not going anywhere. He’s long gone, Johnny.”

Realizing it was fruitless, Johnny sank back down, coughing some more. 

Roy looked up at his swaying wife, praying she wouldn’t fall. “Honey, it’s okay. Sit down, all right?” After a moment, Joanne swallowed, nodding, and hobbled over to sit down. Roy turned back to Johnny. “Johnny, you’re hurt. You need a squad,” Roy argued. Roy looked down at Johnny’s torso, trying to get a look at the wounds to determine how deep they were. He knew he needed to get some bandages to stem the flow of blood, but he needed to stay where he was for the moment.

Johnny shook his head violently. “No,” he tried to swallow. “M’okay. Jus…gimme a minute.” Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on his breathing, trying to slow it and gather oxygen into his lungs. Blood was still pouring out of the cuts Wesley had inflicted on him, along with the blood that hadn’t stopped leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Every time he coughed, it caused the blood flow to increase.

Roy crawled a foot away, and reaching over, righted a chair, then gently instructed Johnny that he was to lean up against it, which he helped him do. Roy got up a moment, and ran down the hall to the closet, yanking out several towels, then went to fetch a roll of masking tape from the kitchen. On the way back, he stopped in front of Joanne, who was now sitting, and seemed to be in shock. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face. “Are you all right?”

Joanne nodded, but Roy wasn’t altogether sure that his wife really was all right. At least now she was sitting down, so he left her side to tend to Johnny. Between coughs, Johnny hissed in pain as Roy began pressing the towels against the cuts on his body. Johnny’s teeth were clenched, and his face was taut with strain as Roy tightened the towels the towels against him, wrapping him in them. Roy then secured the towels with the masking tape.

Johnny’s eyes were open now, and he was regarding Roy as he worked on him. “No squad,” he insisted.

Roy rolled his eyes and looked at Johnny in disgust. “Half your normal blood volume is in our living room carpet and you don’t want a squad.”

Johnny eyed Roy, somewhat recovered, his voice taking on a more even tone. “It looks worse…than it is, Roy. It’s the…Coumadin; it’s makin’ me bleed.”

“That’s exactly why you need a squad.”

“Please, Roy. I need…” he coughed again, “…to talk to the police. So they can get…Adams.” His voice was ragged.

Roy sighed. “We’ll see. But either way, you’re still goin’ to the hospital.” Roy heard a voice talking, and looked up to see Joanne had moved to sit by the telephone. She was now talking, and Roy was thankful that she had gathered herself enough to call the police. Joanne had finally recovered, and was now somewhat ashamed over what she considered her earlier ineptitude. She was usually a strong woman, but somehow she wasn’t prepared for what she saw that morning, and it had really thrown her.

Roy smiled appreciatively at her as their eyes met, then held another towel up to Johnny’s face to try to stop the blood flowing from his friend’s nose and mouth. “Now, tilt your head back.” Johnny obeyed again, knowing the protocol, and pinched his nose, while holding the towel against his face with his other hand.

Joanne hobbled tentatively over to them. “Police are on the way,” she said hesitantly. She was truly shaken by Johnny’s appearance and by what had almost happened. Watching Roy bandaging up Johnny without so much as a flinch made her truly appreciate what her husband did for a living. How did he do it, she wondered? How did he get past the blood and the carnage and focus on just helping someone, especially when it was his best friend? She couldn’t imagine doing what he did on a day-by-day basis, and it made her admire her husband all the more. She’d always known he was special; seeing him at work, which she didn’t often get to do, made her realize just how special he was. She then looked from her husband to Johnny, realizing that there were actually two special men before her, two exemplary people who risked their own lives every day to help others. She vowed right then she’d never complain about Roy’s job again.

What she didn’t know what how talented her husband had become at hiding his real feelings and keeping cool. She never knew the terror Roy actually felt upon entering his living room and seeing a man trying to murder his friend. She never knew the turmoil that was churning inside her husband’s stomach, never saw the slight tremor of his hand as he treated Johnny. His self-control was something even he didn’t know how he managed; he just did it. Some day it would probably cause an ulcer, but for now, it allowed him to do the best job possible for his friend to ensure he would recover. Sometime later, when no one else was around, Roy would acknowledge the feelings and try to deal with them.

Johnny caught Joanne’s stare, and looked apologetically at her. “Sorry…’bout your living room, Jo. I’ll make sure…it all gets replaced.”

Joanne put one hand on her hip. “Johnny Gage, you’ll do nothing of the kind. That’s what we have insurance for.” Emotion welled up inside of her. “I just thank God…” her voice trailed off as she was unable to continue her thought.

Johnny was touched by her reaction. “Jo,” he said softly, “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Pulling the towel away from his face a moment, he grimaced as he bent his head painfully, and his hand went to massage his sore neck. It was red, and both Joanne and Roy noticed the angry outline of fingers on both sides of it.

“You don’t look okay,” she sniffed.

“It’s just a couple of little cuts,” he said beseechingly.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “It doesn’t look so little to me.

Johnny looked up at her with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she’d ever seen, and a small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “I may be skinny, but I’m tough.”

Both Roy and Joanne laughed, Roy because he remembered Johnny say those same words once before, years ago, and Joanne laughed out of relief. She knew if Johnny was joking that he would probably really be all right.

            For his part, Johnny did his best to try to convince himself that he was all right, whether he really felt it or not. He knew he was going to have to cope with the feelings that would emerge later over realizing that someone had tried to murder him and had almost succeeded. But right now he wasn’t prepared to think about those implications. He had enough to deal with.

            There was a knock at the door, and Roy ran to answer it. Two police cars and four officers, including Vince, were standing on his doorstep. Roy opened the door wide and let them in; the officers immediately began looking around the room, attempting to obtain evidence from the ‘crime scene’.

Vince was the one who went to talk to Johnny. His face was unreadable as he crouched down next to the bloody man and began talking to him.

One of the other officers began to question Roy, but Roy broke away from him momentarily, walking over to Vince. “Vince,” he interrupted Vince’s questioning, “Johnny needs to get to the hospital.”

“Did you call for a squad?”

Roy looked at Johnny in chagrin. “No. My ‘partner’ here told me not to call one. But I’m gonna do that right now.” Roy noticed Johnny was looking pale, and bent to check his homemade ‘bandages’. As he gently pulled on the towel to peek under it, It looked like the bleeding had slowed significantly, but not entirely.

Vince stood up. “Look, why don’t we take him in my squad car? We’ll get there faster than waiting for the paramedics, that is if you think it’s safe. I can continue with questions during the ride in.”

Rod nodded. While he realized Johnny definitely needed an IV, it would be the same amount of time now before he got it whether he waited for a squad or let Vince drive him in to the hospital. Being at Rampart would be better, so Roy concurred. While the bleeding needed to be controlled, it didn’t look like the knife had penetrated into Johnny’s body or damaged any internal organs. “That’s a good idea, Vince.” Roy looked down at Johnny. “You ready to go?”

Johnny realized now that Roy was right. These weren’t just little cuts. They were probably going to need stitches, and now that all the adrenalin had worn off, they were beginning to hurt like a bitch, along with his neck. A little pain relief would be welcome at this point. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Okay.” Roy reached down and grabbed a hold under one of Johnny’s arms, while Vince took the other, and they pulled him up slowly.

Johnny gasped as he was lifted, the strain on the cuts really smarting. On wobbly legs he began to walk slowly; he seemed to be able to support himself, so Vince left his side to go talk to one of the other officers, informing them of what they were doing. The other team of police officers would stay and dust the house for fingerprints to use as evidence against Adams, and then talk to neighbors to determine if anyone saw anything.

Joanne was still sitting on the sofa, and Vince walked over to her, gently suggesting she come with them. She would need to get out of the house in order for them to complete their work, and ensure that no evidence was disturbed. The room looked like a war zone anyway, and Vince figured the best thing for DeSoto’s wife was to leave anyway; he was aware of what Joanne had been through during the earthquake. Grabbing her crutches, he helped her up, and assisted her as she hopped on one foot, trying to get the crutches underneath her.

Roy looked back to make sure she was all right as he walked alongside Johnny toward the door, holding his unsteady friend’s elbow to support him.

Johnny was almost to the doorway, when he began to see stars. Blinking, he stumbled sideways, one foot crossing over the other, and bumped right into the wall with his shoulder, which he proceeded to start sliding down.

“Johnny!” Roy lunged for him and caught him before he fell, gently easing him down the wall into a sitting position.

Johnny’s eyes were half open and he looked dazed; he swayed and then blinked, trying to get rid of the roaring he was hearing in his ears. He felt hands on his shoulders and heard Roy’s voice calling him, then instructions to put his head between his knees. Johnny obeyed, trying to breathe deeply, and shortly his head cleared. “Oh, man,” he murmured, running a hand through the hair on the top of his head.

Roy shook his head and looked up at Vince. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital – now.”

Vince motioned for another officer to help Joanne, then moved around to help Roy lift Johnny again. Johnny gasped in pain as each of the men put one of Johnny’s arms around their shoulders and half dragged him toward the door; Roy shuddered as he noticed the large blood-stained knife embedded in his living room wall, like out of some horror movie. They made it to the squad car, where they laid Johnny down in the back seat. Roy got in the back with him, letting him lay his head in his lap, since there wasn’t enough room for Johnny to stretch out completely. Johnny pulled his knees up and rolled to his side, trying to cope with the throbbing pain surrounding him. Joanne was escorted into the front of the squad car, and Vince pulled away from the DeSoto house. Joanne looked forlornly out the window as their house, and the flashing of red and blue police lights all around, disappeared from sight.

Johnny’s back and side took twenty-one stitches, his abdomen sixteen. He lay in a morphine-induced haze while Dr. Morton stitched him up, his eyes peacefully closed. He didn’t hear Roy and the doctor murmuring to each other about the finger-shaped black and blue bruises that had formed around his neck, or the fact that Dr. Morton had determined there was no permanent damage to his windpipe. He merely lay there, floating, vaguely aware of where he was. It wouldn’t be until later that he would learn that Chet had saved his life.

He slept until dinnertime, waking to find himself in a dimmed hospital room, alone. Rubbing his eyes groggily, he groaned, then looked around, taking in his surroundings, noting the IV bags, one, a clear fluid, and one filled with red blood, as they dripped into his arm.

Gingerly, he touched his abdomen through the bandages: the memory of the morning slowly materializing, and he shivered as the image of Wesley’s ugly face bent over him flashed in his mind. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair, wondering how many nightmares he was going to have that night about it. A droning sound drew his attention to the window; it was raining, rivulets of it poured down the steamy panes, creating a soft murmur of noise as it softly spattered against the glass. Shaking his head, he snorted, incredulous that he was once again in the hospital. I might as well just rent a room here instead of tryin’ to find an apartment. He wondered when they would let him out this time.

His thoughts wandered to Roy and Joanne, and he cringed when he thought of what their reaction must have been when they entered their house that morning to see it shattered and destroyed. God, how could he have been so stupid! He himself was the one who had said he thought Wesley was a danger, and so what did he do? He leaves him at the door and walks away, practically giving him an invitation to come in and try to kill him. What had he been thinking? Where was his common sense, he wondered? And where, he worried, was Wesley Adams? Had they caught him?

Voices in the hall caught his attention, and he looked toward the doorway. Roy and Hank Stanley walked in, and he felt relieved to see them. He hadn’t realized how tense he had become thinking about Adams. Both had reassuring smiles on their faces; they looked glad to see him.

“Hey, Johnny,” they both said at the same time.

“How’re you feelin’?” Captain Stanley walked up to the bed and placed his hands on the bedrail.

“Pr – pretty good,” Johnny croaked, his throat sore and dry. Instinctively, he reached up and touched his sore neck, wincing.

Hank Stanley was unable to disguise the pinched look on his face as he looked at Johnny sympathetically.  It was almost physically painful to see the bruises on Johnny’s face, and especially on his neck.  Roy reached over and poured a cup of water for Johnny. “Here. Why don’t you have some of this?”

“Thanks.” Johnny took the cup and drank it painfully. It hurt to swallow. He looked up at them both. “They catch Adams?”

Roy shook his head ruefully. “No. They’ve got an APB out on his now. They’ll find him.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully.

“In the meantime, just so you know, you’ve got an officer standing guard outside your door. So does Chet.”

Johnny looked up in surprise, and was a little shocked. He’d never had his hospital room guarded by a police officer before. It reminded him of how serious the situation was. “How is Chet?”

At that point, Roy explained not only how Chet was, but how everything had gone down that morning. Johnny felt a lump in his throat grow as Roy explained about Chet’s frantic attempt to write down that Johnny was in danger, and the details of how Wesley had tried to kill his Phantom friend in the fire. The revelation that Chet had saved his life left him speechless.

Roy went on to explain that while Johnny had been sleeping that afternoon, Dr. Brackett had finally removed the ventilator from Chet. Police had taken a statement from him, albeit a very scratchy-sounding one, where Chet had accused Wesley of purposely trying to kill him. Johnny listened incredulously as Roy, and then Captain Stanley, relayed everything that had happened that afternoon. Captain Stanley had also had a chance to speak with the man that Wesley had pulled out of the building the day that Chet was injured, and was able to ascertain that Wesley had lied about where he was. The man said he was up on the second floor when he became incapacitated, not the first. It became obvious that Chet’s statement about Wesley was accurate.

After that, the three men chatted awhile about everything that had happened with Wesley Adams, each sharing their own take on how and why it happened. All three agreed on one thing – they were just glad that it was over, that Wesley obviously would never be coming back to work at Station 51, or any station for that matter. No, he would be going to jail – as soon as they found him.

It grew evident that Johnny was growing tired; his face looked stressed and he seemed uncomfortable. It certainly had been a traumatic day for all of them, but mostly for Johnny, who was very lucky to even be there right now. Roy eyed him concernedly as they were about to go, regretful that this was just another thing to heap on Johnny’s plate, as if he didn’t have enough to deal with. Now he had to cope with having to live with the fact that someone had wanted him dead. A twinge of guilt raced through him, and he wondered what he should have done differently about Wesley Adams. Ironically, it was less than two days ago that he and Johnny had been standing in Rampart’s hall arguing over what to do about it. Neither one of them had really been able to come to any conclusions then. Maybe there just hadn’t been anything they could have done. At least, that’s what his conscience wanted him to believe.

Roy and Hank finally bade Johnny good night for the evening, Roy promising to check in on him in the morning. A shiver went through him as he considered who his new temporary partner might be. He almost hoped it would be Brice. At least he was predictable. After they left the room, he and Hank Stanley went in search of Dr. Morton, hoping he would be able to check in on Johnny at least one last time before the evening was over. Hank went home to eat a late dinner with his wife, while Roy went to pick up his children, who were staying at a neighbor’s house, and would later take them to a hotel room to meet Joanne, where they would all spend the night.

The next day brought disappointment for Johnny when he was informed that he wouldn’t be able to go home yet. He put up a good argument, repeatedly saying he was ‘fine’, but Dr. Brackett would hear nothing of it. He wanted to wean Johnny off the Coumadin, or at least to decrease it, and had ordered prematurely another CAT scan of Johnny’s head to follow up on the post-surgical healing. Dr. Brackett also wanted to keep Johnny an additional day for observation, given his windpipe injury. He felt it was best that Johnny not move around more than he had to, in order to give his body a little more time to heal.

Roy stopped in once that morning to see him, during a restocking trip to Rampart, and informed Johnny with chagrin that Craig Brice was indeed his temporary partner, stressing the word ‘temporary’. Johnny noted that Roy almost seemed relieved to get Brice as his partner, and suppressed a chuckle as Roy talked about him.

Roy seemed a bit nervous, or even uncomfortable, as Johnny would have described his behavior, as the light-haired paramedic shifted uneasily on his feet during their conversation. Johnny noticed Roy had a hard time looking him in the eye, and wondered why.

It wasn’t his eyes that Roy had a hard time looking at; it was Johnny’s neck. Overnight, the bruises had grown more pronounced, the imprints of the fingers clearly standing out on Gage’s neck. It was swollen as well, and he noticed that Johnny would bring his hand up every now and then to rub at it, as if it was bothering him.

Roy hesitated a bit before leaving, and Johnny finally asked what was bugging him.

Looking down at his shoes, Roy finally said, “It’s just….Johnny, I don’t know what to say except….” He looked up at John, “I’m really sorry this happened. I feel like….like this was my fault, I mean, I’m your partner, or I was, I mean…I’m supposed to be watching your back…” Roy sighed and turned away, running his hand through his hair. “I mean, jeez, Johnny, the guy almost killed you…you’d think I would have known better after what happened to Chet…” When Roy looked back at Johnny, his friend was shaking his head, a grimace at the corner of his mouth.

“Roy, would you stop? For cryin’ out loud, this isn’t your fault. Adams is just a nutcase, is all. And like you said the other day, what were you supposed to do? What could any of us do? I mean, we all knew he had some problems, but we didn’t know he was capable of killing someone.”

Roy looked sadly at Johnny, his stomach clenching again at the sight of the bruises. “But after Chet – ”

“Chet, schmet,” Johnny interrupted. “That still didn’t prove anything. Now, if Chet could have talked, we would have found out. But he didn’t.” Johnny still saw the self-doubt on Roy’s face. “Look, Roy; you did the best you could. I don’t think there was anything you could have done differently. Besides, I was stupid to ever walk away from the front door and give him an opportunity to come inside. If I’d have been thinking, it never would have happened. I’m the one who said he could be dangerous in the first place, remember?”

“Joanne and I shouldn’t have left you at the house yesterday.”

“Oh, c’mon, Roy. That’s a bit ridiculous. I don’t need a babysitter. And besides, what if you two had been home? Maybe he would have hurt Joanne, or you; you don’t know how it would have turned out. Just be glad things happened the way they did.”

“Glad?!” he said incredulously.

“Well…everything worked out okay, didn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Look, I’m fine; Chet’s gonna be fine. Wesley’s gone; you don’t have to work with him any more. No one does. They’ll find him and he won’t be able to hurt anyone else. Something had to happen, Roy; I mean, I’m not sayin’ I’m glad to be sittin’ here right now;” Johnny looked away whimsically, “I just wish I could have kicked his ass – ”

“By the looks of his face yesterday, it looked like you got a few licks in.”

Johnny smiled wanly, then rubbed at his knuckle on his right hand. “Yeah, but not enough. Man, that guy is heavy, you know?”

“Yeah,” Roy said forlornly.

“Roy,” he said imploringly, “everything is fine. I’m gonna probably get to go home tomorrow. I’m fine.”

Roy eyed him. “Are you?” he said softly.

Johnny looked at him thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he said a little unconvincingly, then added in a stronger tone of voice, “yeah, I am.”

Roy nodded.

“Listen, you better get down to work. Brice’ll be wondering where you are. He’s probably timing you on his stopwatch.”

“Yeah, either that or he’s probably completely reorganized the squad by now, and he’ll be sittin’ down there in the driver’s seat waiting for me.”

Johnny grinned. “Go on; get goin’.”

“All right.” Roy reached out and shook Johnny’s hand. “You take care; I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, man.”

Roy was out the door. Johnny hoped he’d been able to convince him not to blame himself. He certainly didn’t blame him, although it had been hard to hold back from saying ‘I told you so’.

Dixie peeked her head into Johnny’s room that afternoon for a second visit. She had stopped by late that morning to see how he was doing, and the two of them had had a quiet chat about everything that had happened. Dixie had offered plenty of hugs and emotional support before leaving, and Johnny had been touched by her obvious concern. She even invited him over for a home-cooked meal when he got out of the hospital, which he accepted. Dixie knew that Johnny needed the support of his friends more than ever now, after everything he had been through, and was determined to see to it that Johnny had what he needed where his friends were concerned. He appreciated her efforts more than she knew. It had been a comfort lately to realize that all his friends were still there for him; he’d just been too blind to see it earlier. Before she left, she expressed to him that she sincerely hoped he would consider going back to the paramedics, hinting around that Roy would be needing a permanent partner again – one that he could trust.

Now here she was again, and this time she was announcing that she was bringing Johnny a roommate, to which he groaned in complaint, “Dix, can’t you put ‘im someplace else ‘till I’m gone?”

At that point, the bed had been wheeled partially through the door, and Johnny was shocked to hear a very scratchy but somehow familiar voice say, “Gee thanks, Gage; and here I thought you’d be appreciative having me as company.”

Johnny sat up in bed so quickly, he almost pulled some of his stitches out. “Chet!” he exclaimed, his mouth dropping open, and watched as they wheeled his Phantom friend into the room. For once in his life, Johnny was pleased to see Chet. “You’re out of ICU!”

“Yeah; the doc thinks I may even be able to go home in a few more days.”

“Well, that’s great!” Johnny surprised even himself at how elated he was at seeing his friend, and he couldn’t stop staring at Chet as they transferred him to his new bed and arranged his IV’s around him. They put an oxygen canula in his nose, made sure he was comfortable, then left. A moment later, Johnny caught Chet staring at him too; Chet’s nose was wrinkled up slightly and he looked a bit pained. “What?” Johnny asked.

Chet shook his head. “Your throat looks about like mine feels.”

“Oh.” Johnny’s hand reflexively went to his neck and gingerly rubbed the sore swollen area. “I bet it does,” he said with a grimace. “You okay?”

Chet settled himself into his pillows, trying to get his arm into a comfortable position. His voice was subdued. “Yeah.” He was quiet a minute, then, “I guess we were both lucky, huh?”

“No. I wasn’t.” Johnny said seriously.

Chet looked at him in confusion.

“It wasn’t luck that saved me.” Johnny looked over at his friend earnestly. “It was you.”

Chet shrugged self-consciously.

“If you hadn’t let them know what happened, I’d probably be dead right now.”

Chet paused thoughtfully. “Yeah, well…I’m glad you’re not.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows slightly, a little surprised at Chet’s comment. It wasn’t the curly-haired fireman’s usual habit to make sentimental comments to people, especially Johnny. “Thanks. I’m, uh, glad you’re not either.”

Chet nodded soberly.

“Chet?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I’d just like to say…thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Johnny. I only did it because I wanted you to have the chance to try to pull those jokes on me that you were talkin’ about. So I could prove they wouldn’t work, of course.”

Johnny’s mouth dropped open. Had Chet heard everything he’d said to him the other day? “What…I…you…what do you mean, so they wouldn’t work? Did you…?” Johnny stammered out his response, not being able to finish, because at that moment, Cindy walked in.

Chet’s girlfriend came in with a smile, then it fell away from her face when she saw Chet’s roommate. Embarrassment and shame prevented her from delivering an appropriate greeting to Johnny, but she did manage a shy, “Hi, Johnny,” before heading over to Chet’s bed.

Johnny offered her a smile, not really holding any hard feelings against her for the conversation she had participated in way back at the Fireman’s Spaghetti Dinner that night. He could tell just the same that she was uncomfortable, so he said kindly, “It’s good to see you, Cindy. You’re not wasting your time visiting this guy are you?” he teased. Chet gave him a smug look.

She smiled uncertainly, sure that she couldn’t understand why Johnny was being so nice to her after what she had caused. If she had only spoken up sooner and told someone what that witch Doreen Adams had said about John, maybe all this could have been avoided. After all, she felt partially responsible for Johnny quitting his job. If he had gone back to work, perhaps Wesley Adams would have left, and neither he nor Chet would be in the hospital right now. Cindy walked over to Chet and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.” She looked at Johnny again, uncertain as to what to say next. “Johnny, are…are you okay?”

Chet looked up at her indignantly. “Hey, it’s me you’re supposed to be concerned with, isn’t it? I mean, Gage gets enough attention from all the nurses around here already.”

Johnny snorted, and Cindy laughed, but looked back at Johnny questioningly just the same.

“He’s fine,” Chet answered. “Me, on the other hand, I think in order to recover I’m gonna need a lot of extra TLC.” His blue eyes grew round into a pathetically sad puppy dog expression, and he reached for her hand.

“Okay, I get the hint,” Cindy laughed, shaking her head.

Johnny shook his head and rolled his eyes, then turned on his side away from the two of them as Cindy began doting on Chet. He decided maybe he would regret rooming with Chet now as he listened to Cindy baby talk Chet, and even thought he heard some smooching going on, but couldn’t be sure unless he turned back toward them. He stayed in his position, giving them privacy, and stared out the window, his mind wandering. Seeing Cindy here with Chet made him wish for that same kind of attention from a female, and his heart clenched once again as he thought of Heather. Sighing, he wondered if he would ever find anyone who could be a compatible lifetime partner. He began to think that maybe he should just give up trying; just date for fun as he had always done before Heather came along, and if it got too serious, find a way to break it off. That was certainly easier than the awful feelings of loneliness and withdrawal he was going through now.

A gentle hand on his shoulder some time later pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Cindy standing next to him.

“I just wanted to say good-bye.”

“Bye,” Johnny said.

“Um, and I also wanted to say…I’m sorry.”

He turned his body more toward her, grimacing as it pulled his stitches. “Why?”

“Well…” she stammered, “I guess I feel kind of responsible, I mean – ”

Johnny held up his hand to stop her. “Cindy, don’t. There’s too many people around here lately tryin’ to blames themselves for something some other maniac did. The only one we should be blaming here is Wesley Adams. He’s the one responsible for what happened to all of us. So, please don’t feel like any of this is your fault, okay?”

Cindy looked almost like she was going to break out in tears. Unexpectedly, she leaned down and kissed Johnny on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re a good friend, Johnny. I’m glad you’re in here with Chet.”

Johnny and Chet eyed each other at that point, each looking at the other warily.

“Well, I’m not gonna be so glad to be roomin’ with Gage if he doesn’t stop stealin’ kisses from my girl,” Chet said disgustedly, but they could tell he was teasing.

“What’sa matter, Kelly, feeling insecure?” Johnny grinned.

“No, of course not, Gage. You’re no competition,” he snorted.

“Guess you don’t have anything to worry about then, huh?” Johnny teased. He smiled up at Cindy.

“Quit lookin’ at her that way, Gage!”

“Oh, Chet,” Cindy admonished, but she knew Chet was just giving Johnny a hard time; it was what he did.

Chet also had little doubt about the way Cindy felt about him, and broke out in a sheepish smile he couldn’t hold back moments later.

“I’ve got to go. Now, you two, get along, and don’t kill each other!”

“We won’t,” they both promised.

Cindy planted a final kiss on Chet’s lips, then left. Chet sighed happily. Johnny turned back on his side.

The two firemen said little to each other that afternoon, other than what they had already discussed. Chet’s throat was really hurting from the little bit of conversation he had held with Cindy and Johnny already, and he still wasn’t feeling so hot.  Pain medication forced him to succumb to slumberland, and he slept most of the afternoon. He woke in time for dinner, feeling better, and the two friends ate a quiet meal in front of the television, neither really paying any attention to what was going on, each lost in their own thoughts. No one would have believed the subdued afternoon the two of them had with each other, had they seen it. As it turned out, none of their friends made it in that day; the A-shift was working hard, their day was filled with runs until well after visiting hours were over. Chet’s parents, and then his sister, stopped by that evening for a visit. Johnny was somewhat comforted by their presence; it was nice to have a family around for support, even if it wasn’t his own family. None of them really knew Johnny well though, and so devoted most of their attention to Chet. Johnny listened quietly in the background; by the end of the evening the cruel reality that he had no family members to come see him, seemed to hit him blatantly in the face, and the heart.

The night brought unpleasantness, as both firemen struggled to sleep. Neither had much luck, between the little odd, unfamiliar noises of the hospital, and the fact that nurses kept coming in every two hours to check on them. It didn’t help any that the darkness allowed their minds to wander back to the frightening events that had recently taken place, leaving them both sleepless.

Somewhere around three a.m., Chet nodded off to sleep, and shortly after, Johnny did the same. Less than an hour later, Chet was awakened by the sound of Johnny moaning in his sleep. He tried to ignore it at first, hoping Gage would just be able to shake it off, but then Johnny started thrashing about. Growing concerned, Chet was just beginning to push himself up off the bed to wake his friend, when Johnny shot straight upward with a strangled cry. His hands were clutching at his throat, and Chet could see the reflection of the moonlight in Johnny’s eyes, which were darting about wildly. Johnny’s chest was heaving as he looked around in terror, his eyes slowly focusing on Chet, the sound of the Irishman’s voice bringing him back to reality.

“Johnny? Hey! Johnny! Wake up, man,” Chet had been calling softly; Johnny wasn’t sure for exactly how long.

The paramedic closed his eyes, swallowed, then grimaced at the pain his sudden movement had caused to his body.

“You okay?” Chet whispered.

Johnny opened his eyes and glanced at Chet. “Yeah. Sorry,” he said breathlessly, then eased himself back down into the bed rather shakily.

“S’okay.” Chet didn’t bother to ask what the nightmare was about; it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The room grew silent again, and it took both men nearly another hour to nod off again. Sometime near dawn, Johnny was pulled from some very troubling and disjointed dream images by a noise in the room. Abruptly, he awoke, his heart pounding, then realized it was coming from the bed next to him. He squinted in Chet’s direction; the curly-haired man was mumbling softly in his sleep; his voice sounded scared and urgent, but didn’t have much volume, probably due to the damage to his throat. Johnny couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but caught the words, ‘come back’, ‘don’t leave’, and ‘no’ over and over. Johnny frowned, and gingerly sat up, wincing as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

His feet hit the cold linoleum floor, and he took three steps to Chet’s side, then gently shook his shoulder to wake him. “Chet. Chet! Wake up.”

Chet awoke with a gasp, in much the same demeanor as Johnny had a few hours ago. His pulse was racing, and he lunged out with his good arm, grabbing onto Johnny as he stood over him.

“You awake?” Johnny asked softly.

Chet let go of a deep breath. “Yeah. I am now.” He shifted in the bed and ran his hand over his face, groaning.

As Chet had asked earlier, Johnny inquired the same. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and lay back, staring up at the ceiling.

Johnny crawled back into bed, mimicking Chet by staring up at his portion of the ceiling.

Five minutes went by. “This sucks.”

Johnny turned his head and looked over at Chet. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“What time is it?”

Johnny sighed, looking over at the clock that was on his side of the room. “A little after five.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

“You wanna watch TV?”

“Kelly, you know there’s nothin’ on right now except maybe a picture of a flag or that bulls-eye with the color wheel.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Johnny looked out the window; the earliest stages of first morning light beginning to make itself known. He sat up. “I got an idea.”

“What?” Chet looked over.

“Wanna go watch the sunrise?”

Chet snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. We can go up on that new sundeck they built for patients up on the roof.”

Chet stared at him. “You serious?”

Johnny shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I’ve done it before.”

“You have?”

“Sure.”

“What about Godzilla out there in the hall?” Chet was referring to the large security guard who was sitting on a chair at the end of the hallway outside their room.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Johnny offered.

Chet grimaced his reply. “Fat chance.”

“Well, I noticed he doesn’t stay there that long. The guy is restless. Earlier today I saw him walking down the hall talking to the nurses – several times. He kept going back and forth. Maybe he’s not out there right now.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, we can check, can’t we?”

“If you want.”

“Kelly, don’t be such a pessimist. There are ways around things.” Johnny got up out of bed and headed toward the doorway. He peeked out, then pulled his head back in. He was grinning.

“What?”

“He’s sleeping. I mean, really sawing some logs. He’s sitting there all hunched over and his mouth is open. I think he’s drooling,” Johnny giggled.

“Gross. So how are we going to get by him?”

“Very quietly, genius.”

“I mean, how? I’m not exactly in any shape to go traipsing around the hospital, you know.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of ya.” There was a wheelchair sitting in their room parked up against the wall. Johnny went over and wheeled it up to Chet.

“What about if the nurse comes in to check on us?”

“They never come in before seven o’clock. We’ll be back by then.”

Chet was impressed with Johnny’s knowledge of the hospital workings. “Boy, you’ve got it down pat, don’t you?”

“When you’ve been here as many times as I have, you learn the routine. You ready?”

Chet nodded. “I guess.”

Johnny had a mischievous grin on his face as he pulled back Chet’s covers and helped him out of bed. Chet was weak, but was able to get into the wheelchair without falling down. Johnny unclipped the IV bag and hung it from the little hanger on the back of the wheelchair. They were ready to go. “How’re you feelin’? You sure you want to go?”

Now that Chet was in the wheelchair, he was wide-awake, and – he was excited to go. The idea of Johnny’s little impromptu, yet diabolical adventure was rapidly pumping adrenalin through him now, and he was eager to get out of his room. The idea of it was deliciously tempting, mostly due to the fact that it was so against the rules. Besides, somehow having a guard outside all the time was unnerving. He felt the urge to get away. “I’m fine. You can always bring me back if I start feeling sick, right?”

“Right.” Johnny felt reasonably sure that Chet was well enough for a little stroll; he never would have suggested it if he hadn’t. He figured a little fresh air would do Kelly good.

“Okay then. Let’s go.” Johnny went back and grabbed both their robes, then began to push the wheelchair.

“Wait. What if we get caught?”

Johnny shrugged. “What are they gonna do, arrest us? C’mon, quit worrying. We’re not breakin’ out of prison, you know.”

“It feels like it, Chet murmured.

They both had been speaking very quietly, and slowly, Johnny wheeled Chet toward the door. He peeked out; the guard was still asleep; he hadn’t moved. Johnny glanced down the other way; the hospital was as quiet as a tomb. One nurse was sitting at the nurse’s desk, her head down, in deep concentration of whatever she was reading. All they had to do was make it across the hall without being noticed; directly across from their room was an empty hallway, which led to an elevator. If they could get past the guard, they would be home free. They would worry about getting back into the room later.

Johnny inched his way out the door; the wheelchair’s rubber wheels moved smoothly and noiselessly across the floor. As soon as he was out, he walked as quickly as possible to get across the hall without being noticed. A second later, Johnny was wheeling Chet down the other hallway toward the elevator. They stopped, pushed the button, waited for it to come to their floor, then they were inside. The moment the doors slid closed, they both broke out in a big grin, and high-fived each other, both exclaiming ‘yes!’ at the same time.

The elevator went to the top floor and deposited them to a darkened visitor’s area. There were no hospital rooms on this floor, just recreational areas used by patients to watch television or visit with family. There were some other rooms used for offices or other miscellaneous things, but at the moment, everything was quiet.

Johnny took Chet to a metal doorway, and pushed, almost cringing in anticipation of setting an alarm off. When it opened and no sirens blared, the two stepped out into the early morning darkness. Anticipating that the door might lock behind them, Johnny took off a slipper and wedged it inside the door as it shut.

Exhilaration swept over them as a warm morning breeze swirled around them, and even with the smog, the air smelled sweet. Johnny wheeled Chet over near the edge of the roof where a high metal railing ensured that no one would fall over, or be tempted to jump. They looked way down below at the occasional sleepy red taillights of cars as they meandered their way through deserted streets, wondering where those early travelers were off to.

There were still some stars out, but a cool pink glow was peeking out just over the horizon, signaling the beginning of a new day. Johnny pulled out a metal patio chair and sank down into it, relishing in the calm and serenity. It wasn’t very comfortable sitting there, and it pulled against his stitches, but he ignored the discomfort it caused, thinking it much preferable to being cooped up in their stuffy room.

Chet seemed to be enjoying it too; it was unusual to see him so quiet. The two men sat side by side in silence as they watched the sun slowly rise above the horizon, entranced and awed by the magnificent colors it painted across the sky. They enjoyed nature in its glory silently for a good half hour, until it was a few inches above the horizon. The stars disappeared, but both were surprised to still be able to see a sliver of a moon up in the pale blue sky.

Johnny broke the long silence. “I wish we could order room service up here.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, one slipper on and one slipper off, while scooting his behind to the edge of the chair, and leaned his head back.

Chet smiled from his wheelchair. “Yeah. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Johnny nodded, and looked out over the horizon. Streetlights were beginning to wink off. “Yeah; or at least some coffee. Pretty cool up here, huh?”

“Yeah, it is.” Chet turned to look at him. “You do this often?”

“Nope. Only one other time.”

“You get caught?”

“Nope.”

Chet shook his head.

“Are you feelin’ okay?” Johnny asked, suddenly thinking that maybe he had better get Chet back in bed.

“Actually, yeah. I mean, I still feel like I can’t take a deep breath, and I’m a little tired, but I’m doing okay.” His surroundings had made him forget about the pain in his arm.

“Okay. We’ll go back soon.”

Chet sighed. “I hate to leave.”

“I know what you mean.”

Both men stayed quiet for a long time, and then, they began to talk.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you…feel like you were gonna die?”

Johnny remained silent a moment, thinking, which time? then answered, knowing what Chet was referring to. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He glanced over at Chet. “You?”

“Yeah.” Chet stared far out, his eyes becoming slightly glassy. “What…what were you thinkin’ about when he was…you know….”

“Tryin’ to kill me?”

“….Yeah.”

Johnny cleared his throat, then drew in a deep breath. “I dunno. Nothing. Everything.” Johnny looked away from Chet and began to stare out over the horizon. “I was mostly thinkin’ about…how bad it hurt…and…how grotesque his face was hangin’ over mine, his tongue hangin’ out like a dog…he made me sick…and I guess a part of me couldn’t believe it was happening….that…that he was gonna kill me, and his ugly face was gonna be the last thing I saw before….” He stopped, swallowing, and shifted nervously in the chair. He looked down at his feet, and as he began again, it was almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to Chet. His voice grew lower. “You know, they say your life flashes in front of your eyes, but that didn’t happen to me.” He paused, blinking, thinking, this time. “It’s weird what you think about….for a few seconds I was thinkin’ about what would happen to my body after my air got cut off…you know…step by step…which organs were gonna…shut down first. And then I remember…feeling…desperate…’cause I didn’t want the lights to go out…knowing what was gonna happen.” He sighed. “Guess that’s the disadvantage to bein’ a paramedic…you know exactly what’s gonna happen.” Johnny paused again, and his expression grew even more distant as he now stared straight ahead. “But then….all I could think about was….what a….fucked up mess my life was and now….I was gonna die.”

Chet scrutinized Johnny for a long time, and then looked away. He knew that what he, himself had been through was bad, but hadn’t realized until now what it must have been like for Johnny, on top of everything else he’d been through. He wondered aloud, “…Were you…afraid?”

Johnny never averted his gaze from the horizon. “Hell, yes.”

Chet remained quiet after that.

“What about you?”

“You mean, what was I thinkin’, or was I afraid?”

“Both.”

Chet grasped the arm of the patio chair a little tighter. “I was mad. Mad that everything seemed to be goin’ so good in my life, you know, with Cindy and all, and now this bastard was gonna take it all away from me. And I was afraid….’cause he told me he was gonna….go after you too, and I didn’t think I’d be able to warn you. And I was angry for what he was gonna put my family through…having to deal with my…death.” Chet swallowed. “My mother’s face…flashed in front of me, and she was cryin’…hysterical.” Chet’s voice caught in his throat at that point, and Johnny glanced over just in time to see Chet’s eyes glittering with unshed tears. Chet swallowed the lump in his throat and went on. “And I think the worst part was, just being afraid of dying. I mean, I’m a Catholic, and I believe in God, and I believe in an afterlife, but I gotta tell you, at that moment, I was terrified. You know, bein’ a firefighter, you think you’ve prepared yourself for the possibility that you might die someday on the job, but then, when it happens, when it gets close, you’re just not ready for it. At least, I wasn’t.” Chet swiped at his eyes with his knuckles, trying to collect himself.

“I don’t think anybody’s ever ready, Chet.”

Chet nodded, and the two men were silent for a time.

“Man. What a thing to have in common, huh?”

Johnny smiled ruefully. “Yeah.”

Another long silence.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Your life’s not a fucked up mess, you know.”

Johnny looked over at Chet from the corner of his eyes and snorted. “Oh, yeah? You think it could be worse then, huh?”

“Yeah.” Chet looked over at him. “You could be dead.”

“That’s a consolation.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve had a lot of bad things happen to you, but you still have your whole life to live, you know. There’s a lot of good things that could happen in the future.”

Johnny grimaced, but said nothing.

“God does have a plan for you, ya know.”

Johnny slowly turned his head to Chet, his expression slightly incredulous. “Since when did you get so religious?”

“I don’t know. I guess since I got a second chance. Maybe you should take it as a sign. You’ve survived a lot of stuff; there’s got to be some reason for that.”

“Sometimes I think God enjoys torturing me.”

“He does not.”

“How would you know?”

That question sparked the beginning of a long, philosophical conversation between the two of them, starting with religion, and ending with theories about how the universe was formed. Though each man was becoming exhausted from lack of sleep, they would have been content to stay outside for another hour or so, just to talk, had they not been so rudely interrupted by sirens down in the parking lot. At first, they paid no attention, as sirens were a regular event at Rampart, although usually, the ambulances turned off their sirens the moment they turned in the drive to the hospital ER. But then they realized something about it seemed off; and Johnny got up to look below. Four police squad cars were parked below, lights flashing, and suddenly Johnny got a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Uh, oh.”

“What?”

“I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Chet swallowed, worriedly.

“There’s four black and whites down below that just pulled up to the building. We’ve been gone for what, two, three hours?”

“….You don’t think….”

Johnny nodded.

“Oh, shit,” Chet whispered.
            The two looked at each other, frozen for a moment, then they both burst out laughing.

Johnny rolled his eyes and started to pull himself out of his chair. “Oh, man; I hope Dixie’s not here today!”

“Gage, this is your fault!” Chet pointed his finger accusingly at him.

“My fault!” Johnny splayed his fingers across his chest indignantly. “My fault! You were just as eager to get out of that hospital room as I was. You’re an accessory!”

“How are we gonna get back to the room without them seing us?”

“That might not be possible at this point.”

“Oh, shit; we’re busted.”

“Not yet; now, just keep cool, Chester, and let me handle this.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They got off the elevator quietly and made their way down the still-darkened hallway. Johnny peeked around the corner at the nurse’s station. There seemed to be a flurry of activity going on, and he saw two police officers talking with each other. Dr. Brackett was standing next to one of them, his back turned. The security guard that had fallen asleep was nowhere to be seen. “Damn,” Gage whispered.

“What?” Chet moved his wheelchair a bit closer in an effort to see.

“Get back!” Johnny scolded. “It’s Brackett. And Dixie! They’re talkin’ to the cops!”

Chet closed his eyes.

None of them seemed to be paying attention; they were all wrapped up in whatever crisis they were obviously talking about, that crisis obviously being the two missing patients.

“It’s now or never.”

Chet braced himself, holding onto the arm of the wheelchair with his one good hand, then suddenly, Johnny propelled him out across the hall, and back into their room.

“You think they saw us?”

“I don’t know. C’mon, get back in bed.” Johnny helped Chet climb in bed, then hooked his IV bag back on the metal stand. Then he parked the wheelchair back where it was, and climbed back into his own bed. Footsteps could be heard hurrying down the hall.

“We’re busted,” Chet said.

“Shut up, and pretend you’re asleep, dummy!”

Chet clamped his eyes shut, and Johnny did the same, pulling his covers over his head. Both firemen heard several sets of footsteps enter their room.

A cold breeze swept over Johnny as his covers were suddenly yanked off him, and he opened his eyes to see Dixie standing over him, her blue eyes blazing, hands on hips. “Okay, start explaining, buster.”

Johnny’s expression looked pained. “Explain….what, Dix?”

Dixie looked like she was about to explode, but Kelly Brackett beat her to the punch.

“Explain where the hell you two were for the last two hours!”

“Where we were?”

“Is there an echo in here?!”

Chet remained on his side, his covers pulled up over his head, unmoving. Moments later, he felt his covers whipped off him as well. His eyelids fluttered open, blinking sleepily at his visitors in surprise, and he yawned. “What’s going on?” he asked innocently.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Dixie said. “What’s going on is that I’m just about ready to have these two nice officers take you clowns out of here and put you in jail, unless you start explaining.”

Chet looked at Johnny, aghast. “I thought you said they couldn’t arrest us?”

Johnny gritted his teeth and hissed, “Shut up, Kelly!”

Two menacing looking police officers took a step toward both bed-bound men, their arms crossed, then Dixie and Dr. Brackett began to close in on them as well.

Johnny was sound asleep when he felt something land on his bed. After their excellent adventure that morning, which was followed by a thorough tongue-lashing from not only Dixie, but Kelly Brackett, both he and Chet were exhausted, especially since they hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before.

The jolt to the bed abruptly interrupted his nap, and he flinched awake with a start. Blinking, he looked up to see Roy standing next to his bed, a slightly annoyed look playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked down on the bed, and eyed the slipper that Roy had thrown there.

“Did you lose something?” Roy asked, nodding down at the slipper.

Johnny looked up at him sheepishly for a long moment. I guess Dixie told him about our little outing. He looked down at the slipper. “Aren’t ya gonna at least try it on and see if it fits?”

“Very funny. C’mon. Get outta bed.”

“Wha…why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” Johnny struggled to sit up, wincing, then wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Brackett didn’t say anything about releasing me today.”

“Yeah, well, after that stunt you two pulled this morning, he called me and told me to come and ‘get you out of his hospital’.”

Johnny cringed. “He said that?”

“Um hm.”

Johnny’s face fell. “He’s really mad, huh?”

“Oh, no. He wasn’t mad at all.” Roy shrugged. “He just lost two patients; two patients who were almost killed by the same crazed maniac, who he couldn’t find, after searching the entire hospital, then he had the police come to the hospital, which caused a huge commotion, scaring all the other patients, only to find that his two patients were just out joyriding; but no, he wasn’t mad at all.”

Chet rolled over in bed. “Joyriding?!”

Roy looked from Johnny to Chet. “So, where did you guys really go?”

“If you found the slipper, then you should know.” Johnny remembered grabbing the slipper from the propped-open door, then realized it was missing when he returned to the room.

“They found it in the elevator. So, where were ya?”

Johnny started to answer, then Chet said, “That’s for us to know, and for you all to find out.”

Roy frowned. Johnny laughed, then repeated what Chet said. “Yeah, for us to know and for you to find out.”

Roy shook his head, then shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, while he considered how to get the information out of his friends. He leaned forward a little. “C’mon, you guys. You can tell me. I promise I won’t say a word.”

Johnny and Chet looked at each other as if they were considering telling Roy.

“Should we tell ‘im?”

“Nope,” Chet said.

Roy sighed, and picked up Johnny’s clothes, which he had deposited at the end of the bed, and tossed them in his face. “Get dressed, and I’ll take you home.”

Johnny caught the clothes, then gingerly climbed out of bed, changed, and after signing his release papers, Johnny left his hospital room with Roy. Chet rolled back onto his side and went back to sleep.

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

Johnny went home with Roy that day, refusing to tell him where he and Chet had gone off to, despite pleas of promise from Roy not to tell anyone. DeSoto finally gave up. Chet was released from the hospital three days later, into the waiting arms of his girlfriend, Cindy, who gave him all the TLC that he desired for the next eight weeks, until he was cleared to return to work.

Johnny found an apartment, and ten days after leaving the hospital, he moved out of the DeSoto house. He finally found the solitude he had been craving. He remained alone much of the time, trying to make sense of everything, and to put his life back in some order. Despite many requests and invitations from friends, especially Roy and Joanne, he chose to spend most of his time alone, the depression he had been experiencing still lingering like a dark cloud over his head. Instead of fighting it, he coped with it the best he could on his own, figuring that eventually, it would go away, and hopefully someday, just be a bad memory.

One memory that would never go away was that of his aunt. He would always feel guilty for her death, of that he was certain. But he was also certain that he had to find a way to come to grips with it, or the guilt would eat him up. He had a few drinking binges during his time alone that no one ever knew about, at least he thought no one knew, although the perceptive look in DeSoto’s eyes one morning when he stopped to see Johnny after one of his binges was so blatant that Johnny couldn’t meet his eyes. Roy had looked so concerned, so worried, and so disappointed in his friend that after that, Johnny curtailed his drinking for good, not being able to bear the thought of his friend thinking less of him. Roy never said a word; he soon recognized that Johnny would straighten out on his own; somehow he knew all along that he would. If there was anyone who really knew how strong a person John Gage was, it was Roy DeSoto, so he elected to let his friend work things out in his own way, which is how he knew Johnny would prefer it. Instead, he just offered his support, kindness, and friendship as much as possible, hoping that would be enough. It was; that, and giving Johnny the word that Station 51 was looking for another paramedic to permanently be Roy’s partner, and that he was their first choice. Apparently, Brackett hadn’t stayed mad for too long, for he informed Roy that Johnny would be welcome back into the paramedic program without so much as even a refresher course. As long as Johnny passed his physical, Brackett was willing to certify him again. As for the fire department itself, simply already being aware of the reputation behind the man, and the impressive list of achievements on Johnny’s record, they had no qualms about reinstating him. After many long months of not working, Johnny finally made the decision to come back, and looked forward to his first day, which wasn’t far away.

Johnny decided not to rebuild his house, and instead, after many long arguments with his insurance company, made a settlement with them and cut his losses. He really didn’t have any choice. He intended to use some of the money he had remaining to buy some land he had his eye on, with the hopes of building on it a few years down the road.

The day before he returned to work, he stopped by Sunnyside Estates. Meredith and Ben greeted him with open arms, and gave him a tour of the facilities, which were a bustle of activity. A new section was just underway; stakes were in the ground designating where the addition would be built, and tractors and backhoes were already being employed to move the dirt around. Inside, the beginnings of redecorating had commenced; Johnny noticed the staff had changed, and seemed to be much more professional, all thanks to him. His donation had been named in memory and honor of his aunt, and a special plaque now hung in the soon to be new reception area of the building. Somehow, seeing the beginnings of all the improvements, along with the positive results affected by them, gave Johnny a sense of peace. Finally, the money had gone to really benefit those who needed it, and of that, he was glad.

After he left Sunnyside, with strict instructions from Meredith not to be such a stranger, he visited the cemetery. It was a beautiful late summer day, and white wisps of dandelions swirled around him as the fresh-cut grass invaded his nostrils. The peonies had died, leaving their lush green leaves to sway in the wind, but geraniums, daisies, and impatiens were abundant. As one always found in a cemetery, he noticed waterless containers of plastic flowers here and there, even though the caretakers didn’t allow them at this time of year. He thought they looked tacky, but couldn’t fault those who had left them for only trying to show their love. He himself had brought a beautiful blooming pink rosebush, her favorite, to plant, and now he carried it in one arm, along with a shovel and a bag of peat moss in the other. He would have to go back for the watering can.

He found her grave easily, the marker now permanently in place. He read the inscription, and, setting the plant and shovel down, bent to touch it, delicately running his hand over the engravings, as memories ran through his mind. The pain of her loss renewed itself fresh in his heart as he knelt at her grave, his head bent. He began to apologize to her once again, but oddly, a strong presence seemed to invade his mind, telling him to stop, as if his aunt was trying to communicate from the depths of her eternity, urging him to quit blaming himself. He stared at the headstone a long time, then began to tell her about all the changes at Sunnyside, and went on to tell her how Ben and Meredith were, and some of her friends there. No one was around to hear.

Finally, he made work of digging into the soil to plant the rosebush, the difficulty of breaking up the dry cracked ground taking his mind off his sorrow. He stood back when he had finished, admiring how beautiful the bush looked, content in knowing how she would approve. Aunt Rose had always been a stickler about going to the cemetery, and had commented more than once in years past that Johnny had better remember to come visit her and plant flowers on her grave. It was something that had been a tradition for her, something that she felt was an important way of remembering her loved ones, and Johnny intended to honor her wishes, as long as he was alive.

After the watering was done, he lingered a little while longer, then finally gathered up his things and left. A songbird called to him from behind and made him turn, and astonished, he saw a bluebird sitting atop his aunt’s tombstone. It was chirping its’ tune, seemingly almost at him, and he drew a wide smile, for bluebirds had been his aunt’s favorite. He took it as a sign.

Being back at work caused a sense of relief and normalcy to return to Johnny’s life, and slowly, he settled back into the routine that he had once had. His crewmates noticed that he wasn’t  quite as lively as before; he seemed almost more mature, and much more pensive at times. Part of the spark for life he had once had seemed to have flickered out; no one knew if it would ever be back. There were times when he simply went off to be by himself, which caused concern from his Captain until he finally figured out that this was just the new Johnny, and he realized that the man had changed, maybe permanently, but that his expertise on the job hadn’t been lost. It anything, Johnny seemed even more focused; it was almost as if his profession was the soul of his life now, and he took it even more seriously than he had before. His friends elected not to call attention to his new demeanor, instead trying their best to bring out the old personality of their crewmate whenever possible. One thing hadn’t changed: Chet continued to work hard at pulling the best jokes on Johnny, mostly in the hopes of bringing back the lighter side to Johnny’s nature. But Chet knew when to lay off; and did so when he sensed his friend needed to be left alone. The new bond they shared seemed to draw them closer, and Chet tended to be a little more sensitive of Johnny’s feelings since he’d returned to work. 

Wesley Adams had never been found. The man had simply disappeared that afternoon after he’d almost strangled Johnny in the DeSoto house. A criminal investigation turned up some damning evidence. Upon looking into Wesley Adams’ history with several Nevada fire departments, it was discovered that five years ago, there had been two deaths during one of his shifts. One fireman had died in a burning building, and Wesley’s partner had died in a roof collapse of that same building after going in to look for the missing man. An autopsy had determined that the first man, a fireman by the name of Dirk Thomas, had died as a result of a blunt head injury, not from smoke inhalation as was initially thought. Oddly, he had been wearing his helmet when he was found. Gordon Bell, who had been Wesley’s partner, apparently had been Dirk’s best friend. Those at the scene at the time had suspected foul play by Wesley, after months of questionable behavior by him. Wesley had been in the building initially with Thomas, and had come out alone, much the same as he had when Chet was injured. Since there had been no witnesses or proof, it had been Wesley’s word against the others, and charges were never brought. Using the excuse of being distraught over the death of his partner, Wesley left that station, only to join another in southern Nevada three months later. He left there within a year, moving on to another station about two hundred miles away. After interviewing his co-workers from those stations, it was discovered that Wesley was verbally ousted from both stations after being accused of ‘gross sexual imposition’. Again, no charges were ever filed, and no mention of his misconduct was ever mentioned in any of his records; the fire department could take no action against a man who had not been convicted of any crime for fear of violating his civil liberties and being sued themselves. Wesley left in humiliation, and the men that worked with him previously were forced to keep their lips sealed.

The police had had a few leads; two people had called in after the first couple days he was missing with a description of his truck, which they had seen in the state of Oregon, and then one came from Washington. The police were able to alleviate some of their fears with their speculation that the man was probably headed for Canada. After the last sighting of his truck, his trail seemed to evaporate. It was hard for the crew of 51 not to be looking over their shoulders constantly for a man that they feared just might want to come back and finish the job, especially for Chet and Johnny. It was an unlikely and unwanted bond that made them closer.

Several weeks after Johnny had started back to work, he was in the dayroom relaxing at the kitchen table, sipping from a cup of coffee, working on the logbook. They had just come back from a run about a half hour ago. Roy was out in the engine bay hunched down by the side of the squad, checking the oxygen, Mike was in the dayroom doing some paperwork, Cap was in his office doing his own paperwork, and Chet and Marco were arranging hose on the hose rack.

The Cap, who was now leaning into the doorway to the dayroom, roused Johnny from his concentration. “John?”

Johnny looked up.

“You’ve got a visitor, pal.”

Johnny peered around the Cap inquisitively, and his heart caught in his throat as his visitor made herself known. He swallowed hard as Heather tentatively walked into the room; his pulse rate immediately began to skyrocket.

She smiled with uncertainty, folding her hands in front of her, and took a step toward him. Mike looked up, and Captain Stanley backed out of the room to return to his office.

“Hi,” she said softly.

For a moment, he was tongue-tied. He hadn’t seen her in so long that he was experiencing the same reaction that he’d had the first time they’d met. He stared at her, thinking she was even more beautiful than he’d ever remembered, and instantly, he was a tangled mess of nerves. “Hi,” he almost whispered back. Slowly, he scooted his chair back and approached her, not really believing she was there, and wondering why the heck she was there. “What….what are you doing here?” There was no malice in his words, merely surprise.

She licked her lips nervously, wondering if he was going to yell at her or tell her to leave. As she looked up at him, her own heart skipped a beat, the strong attraction to him almost overwhelming her. He looked good, really good – just as handsome as she’d remembered, somehow even more so with the uniform on, which she’d never even seen. An intense longing gripped her, and it was everything she could do to keep from throwing her arms around his neck and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Somehow, she managed to control herself. “I…I just wanted…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I…I read about what happened to you in the paper.”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine. Um, are you doing okay?” His mind was in a whirl; there were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to get his brain connected to his voice. He was amazed she was even talking civilly to him, after how cruelly he had treated her the last time he’d seen her.

Now she nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I…I didn’t know where to find you…I mean, with your house gone, and the boat….I knew you were staying at Roy’s for awhile, but, I just wondered….”

“I’m in an apartment now. I left Roy’s a while back.”

“Oh. Well, that’s…that’s good.” She didn’t bother to ask about the house. They both seemed at a loss for words. Heather looked around at the station, and noticed Mike quickly lower his head back to his newspaper as she caught his stare. “So, this is where you work.”

“Yeah, this is it.”

“Um, could I see the station? I mean, could you show me around?”

He frowned at her, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing.

“Why?” he asked quietly. The next cruel words blurted out before he had time to think about how they sounded. “You never cared before.” He regretted them instantly.

That stung. But she knew she deserved it. She looked into his eyes a long moment, then said, “I did care. Much more than you’ll ever know.”

He stared at her and swallowed.

“Please? Could you show me around? I’ve…I’ve never been inside a fire station before.” She wanted to go somewhere with him to talk where they could be alone.

Johnny sighed in resignation, wondering what her intentions were. “Okay.” He explained that the room they were in was the dayroom, and what they did there, then took her out into the engine bay.

She saw the squad first. “Is this the truck you ride in, or is it the big one?”

Johnny touched the squad. “This one. It’s got all our medical supplies in it.”

She stared at the truck, pretending to examine it, stalling as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. Thinking they were alone, she finally got the nerve to change the conversation. Turning to him, she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, looking up at him earnestly. “I miss you,” she said softly.

He closed his eyes and sighed; his heart beginning to break all over again. He looked into her eyes imploringly. His face looked so sad. “Don’t do this, Heather. You’re just makin’ it harder.”

“Do you miss me too?”

“….Yes.”

“I still love you,” her voice broke.

Before Johnny could reply, he heard a noise on the other side of the squad, and remembered Roy was out there. Roy had accidentally given himself away, but was glad he had. He wanted to get out of there before he overheard any more of their conversation. Standing up, he nonchalantly stored the oxygen back inside the squad and shut the doors, glancing at Johnny over the top of the truck. Johnny looked mortified, but Roy kept a straight face, as if he’d heard nothing, and when he walked around the side of the squad and saw Heather, he casually offered her a smile and a hello. Then he disappeared into the dorm, leaving them alone.

Running his hand through his hair in embarrassment, Johnny turned back to her, guiding her around to the other side of the squad to stand between it and the engine.

            She had now composed herself, deciding she’d better move the conversation in a more upbeat direction. “You’ll never guess what I did last night.”

            He shook his head, a little thrown off balance. “What?”

            Heather held her hands out in front of her for Johnny to inspect. “Guess.”

It took him a moment, but he recognized that she no longer had her perfectly manicured fingernails. “You…cut your nails?”

She laughed. “No, silly. I went bowling.”

Johnny looked astonished. “Bowling? Since when did you bowl?”

“Since Daddy started taking me. You didn’t know he was a bowler, I bet.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, he used to go quite often, in fact he was in a league, but of course he’s so busy at work that he never has the time any more.”

Johnny smiled cheerlessly. “I used to want us to go. But you never wanted to.” His tone was quiet, not accusatory.

“That’s because I didn’t realize how much fun it was. And I’m pretty good too! Daddy’s been giving me lessons….I got a one-oh-one last night!”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle at that comment. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.” His face lost its smile then. He knew what she was trying to do. “Heather, just because you’re learning to bowl doesn’t mean we’re right for each other.”

She looked somberly at him, her own smile fading. “Johnny….I’ve…I’ve had a lot of time to think about things lately, and I’ve come to the realization that I made a lot of mistakes, mistakes I really regret, and….I want the chance to correct them.”

He stared at her in puzzlement. “Did you just call me, ‘Johnny’?”

She nodded. “Yes, Johnny, I did.”

“You’ve never called me that before,” he said very softly.

“I know. It’s another mistake I’d like to correct.”

He looked at her warily.

“As I said, I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Talking to Daddy has made me realize a lot of things too; he’s pretty intuitive; he’s got a way of pointing things out that you’d never think about. I guess that’s why he’s so successful in business.”

“I suppose so.”

“You know, he really likes you. It’s funny…you’re actually a lot like him. Did you know that he and Mother had some of the same problems that we had before they got married?”

“No.”

“Well they did. Mother was like me, and Daddy was more like you. Both bull-headed, but they realized…they really loved each other, and they worked out their problems. They have a really happy marriage now.”

“I’m glad.” He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with her talk of marriage.

She was struggling. He wasn’t making this easy for her at all. “John…Johnny, I…I know I wasn’t fair to you. I regret so much. The way I treated you, the way I tried to change you. I never should have pushed you to give up your career. It would have been like…you insisting I give up painting. It was a part of you, and I was so selfish I couldn’t see how lost you would be without that part. I know now how wrong I was.”

Johnny looked away, totally at a loss for words. Hers were killing him, wrapping around his heart and squeezing it until it almost pained him physically.

“The point is…I’d like the chance to get to know… the real Johnny Gage. Not the one I invented, but the one I always saw and loved, but didn’t acknowledge because I was too stupid and blind.”

Johnny was torn. He’d made up his mind that this relationship was never going to be successful, and had made his decision to break it off in the hopes of saving them both a lot of heartache later on. Now, here she was, asking him for another chance, making promises that he had no idea if she would be able to keep, trying to reopen a wound that had slowly begun to close. He didn’t know if he could stand a second breakup if he gave things another chance and they still didn’t work out. Every inch of his being was screaming to him how badly he wanted her back, yet he was scared to try, terribly afraid of being hurt again. His face was a mask of indecision and uncertainty. “Heather, I…I don’t know. We just…come from such different backgrounds. How am I supposed to believe that after everything that’s happened, you suddenly want to get to know who I really am? That, that, suddenly, all those little things that annoyed you about me aren’t going to annoy you any more?

“Johnny, the reason that I was attracted to you in the first place was that you were different than any man I’d ever known. You’re funny and charming, and smart, and handsome, and….” Her voice softened, and she brought her palm up to his face to rest against his cheek, “…and honest, and you’ve got dignity, and…and those are the qualities that are important to me, not whether or not you know how to pick the best wine in a restaurant.”

John looked down, still battling with his emotions. He didn’t mean to be making it so hard on her, but he was so torn. Should he do what his heart demanded, or what his head said?

Heather sensed his turmoil and went on. “I believed you when you said you loved me. Don’t throw that away. Don’t throw away what we had because I was too blind to know what a good thing I had. I still love you,” she said fiercely. “Give us another chance. I promise, I won’t disappoint you.”

Johnny closed his eyes briefly in despair. “Heather, you never disappointed me; I felt I was always a disappointment to you.”

Her throat clenched at those words, and tears glistened in her eyes. “I could never be disappointed in you, Johnny.” It was funny, the more she said his name that way, the more it seemed to fit him and feel comfortable to her.

The two were standing very close, both searching the other’s eyes for the truth, or the right decision.

“There’s something you should know,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m not rich any more. I gave most of my money to a…charity.”

She smiled softly. “I know. I read about it in the newspaper. It was a very gallant thing to do. I only wish…I had the kind of character you have.”

He was truly surprised by her response. “You do.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t think so; but I’m trying. Maybe if I hang around you long enough, some of it will wear off.”

He looked down at her, still wavering, but cracks were rapidly forming in the wall he had built around her, and he felt it breaking down. Suddenly, almost with an intense desperation, he grasped her forearms tightly, nearly shaking her, and looked directly into her eyes. His face almost looked distraught, and his voice shook. “Heather, don’t do this unless you really mean it.”

Relief flooded her face and she knew she would get her second chance. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” she said with a genuine openness to her face. Her hands slid up and clasped around the back of his neck, and slowly, she pulled him downward, pressing her lips to his.

The moment their lips touched, he melted, and he pulled her against him fiercely, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her so deeply that he lifted her body up off the floor.

Roy had been in the dorm waiting for them to finish talking. He approached the doorway several times, only to hear muffled voices floating out from in between the squad and the engine, the seriousness of the conversation evident in their hushed tone. Sighing, he wished he’d just walked outside instead. Going to the door and listening one more time, he discovered the conversation had ended, and thought it was safe to exit. The couple he passed on his way out to the hose rack never noticed him, or his smile, as they remained in their embrace.

There he is. Roy approached his dark-haired partner, who was leaning against the side of his car, arms folded, his head turned, pensively gazing out at the freeway traffic over the fence. Johnny sensed Roy’s presence, but did not turn to acknowledge him. When Roy reached his side, he assumed a similar stance against the car next to him. A minute later, he finally said, “You gonna fill me in on what happened, or are you going to keep me in suspense the rest of the day?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Johnny’s mouth and he looked down at his feet. “Okay, what do you wanna know?”

“Well, did, uh, the two of you get everything straightened out?”

“No.”

Surprised, Roy pulled away from the car and searched Johnny’s face. “No? But it sure looked like….I mean…” he stammered.

Johnny glanced up at Roy, his expression slightly annoyed. “What were you doing, spyin’ on us?”

“No, of course not. You saw me go into the dorm. Look, why don’t you just tell me what happened?”

Johnny sighed. “We’re going to get together tomorrow…and talk.”

Roy nodded silently, then tried to stifle a smile, knowing better than to voice what he was thinking, which was, amongst other things. “Well, it’s a start.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said gloomily.

Roy turned and scrutinized him. “Why are you so down about it?”

Johnny closed his eyes a moment. For once, he didn’t really feel like discussing it with his friend, mostly because he felt Roy wouldn’t begin to understand how he was feeling. “I don’t know,” he answered lamely.

Roy squinted at him. “I would have thought you would have been happy that she stopped by. Heaven knows you’ve been miserable ever since you broke up with her.”

“Roy, I’ve been miserable about a lot of things. That was just one of ‘em.”

Roy nodded thoughtfully, knowing how true that statement was. “Well…maybe this’ll help.”

“Maybe. It’s just that…I don’t know…” his words trailed off, and he picked at his fingernail. The truth was, he was scared. Scared of rejection, scared of having to go through another breakup with her. She’d seemed so earnest, but people just don’t change that easily. How could he expect her to? Was he just setting himself up for another big disappointment? Did he really have the emotional strength to put his heart into something that might break it into tinier pieces than it already was? Those were the thoughts that swam through his mind right now, thoughts and insecurities that he didn’t feel comfortable voicing, even to his best friend.

“It’s just that, what?”

Johnny turned to Roy and dropped his arms, slipping his hands into his pockets. His face was hesitant. “Look, Roy, don’t take this the wrong way, but I…I just don’t think you’d understand. You’ve been married a long time,” he shook his head slowly, “you just don’t know what it’s like.”

Roy looked disappointedly away from his friend and out into the parking lot, and now Johnny regretted what he’d said, thinking he’d hurt his friend’s feelings.

“Joanne and I broke up once,” Roy said quietly.

Johnny’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Mm hm.” Roy looked over at Johnny from the corners of his eyes.

“What happened?”

Roy drew in a breath and scratched absently at his nose. “We were in high school, ready to graduate. We’d been dating quite a while. Joanne’s mother convinced her that we were too young to be that serious, and that she should give herself a chance to date some other guys, just to make sure.”

“Man, that woman’s been a thorn in your side for a long time, hasn’t she?”

Roy grimaced. “You can say that again.”

“So, how long were you apart? How’d you get back together?”

“Well, it wasn’t that long, maybe about a month. We finally both decided not to listen to Joanne’s mother any more. I guess you could say we realized…we were meant to be together.”

“And you lived happily ever after.”

“Something like that,” Roy said looking at Johnny wryly. “The point is…I know what it feels like. It may have been a long time ago, but I remember…it felt pretty crappy.”

Johnny looked down, realizing that maybe Roy did understand. “Yeah. It does. Roy…I…I don’t think I could handle another breakup.”

Roy had never heard Johnny admit anything like this before, and his partner had broken up with a lot of women. It only confirmed how deeply she had gotten under his skin. “Maybe you won’t have to.”

“Yeah, but maybe I will. I have so many doubts.” He shook his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to see her.” If only she hadn’t started kissing me… He chewed on his pinky fingernail. “She just…has this way of controlling me,” he said in exasperation.

Roy smiled. “Johnny, that trait is built into the female circuit board. It’s part of their programming. You of all people should know that by now.”

Johnny sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“Look, why don’t you just take it slow, one day at a time, and just see what happens. I mean, you haven’t agreed to marry her or anything.”

Johnny crossed his arms again and stared out at a spot somewhere on the concrete parking lot, considering Roy’s suggestion. “Maybe…maybe you’re right. I haven’t committed to anything, really; I’ll just to talk to her. Maybe if I take it really slow…” His voice trailed off.

“That’s what you should do.” Glad he was finally getting through to Johnny, he suddenly thought of something, something that could kill their relationship before it even got off the ground. “Um, Johnny; I just have one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Does she…ah, did you tell her about the money – that you’re not a millionaire any more?”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “I didn’t tell her; she knew. I guess she read about my donation in the paper or something.”

Roy brightened. “Well, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Well, if she still wants you back and doesn’t care if you’re just a poor underpaid fireman, then that means she wants to be with you on your own merit, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not totally broke, you know.”

Roy didn’t know really. He felt it would be nosy to ask about how much money Johnny had left, although he was curious. “I guess I got the impression that you gave most of your winnings away.”

“Well, I did; but I have some left over. And I’ll be getting a little money for the house, hopefully, if I ever get that mess straightened out. They think they finally found records of my earthquake insurance policy, but the deductible is so huge, by the time I pay that, it’ll eat up a big chunk of my equity.” He sighed in resignation. “It’ll probably take over a year to work it out, at the rate they’re going. You know, I think Gloria Truelove is working for them now.” Johnny looked chagrinned, and Roy smiled at his reference to the lady he worked with a few years ago in trying to straighten out an inaccurate credit card bill.

“And I guess I’ll get a little bit for the car.” He shrugged.

“How much?”

“Only about six thousand. I paid over eight for it.”

Roy grimaced. “Just goes to show you that new cars aren’t very good investments. They seem to lose most of their value the first year you own ‘em.”

“Yeah. Guess it’s better to own a classic…something that’ll increase in value instead, eh?” Johnny eyed Roy’s car wryly.

Roy smiled at Johnny’s reference to his old Porsche, and thought of the time they’d traded vehicles. “Right.”

“You know I also have some money that I put into the stock market. Art was always tellin’ me about new investments he thought I should make. So, I have some money there. I guess I could sell some of my stock if I need money. As a matter of fact,” he turned to look at Roy with a sort of whimsical smile on his face, “a while back, I bought some shares for you and all the guys.”

Roy’s face registered a combination of surprise and appreciation. “Johnny, you didn’t have to do that. You’ve already been more than generous – ”

Johnny waved him off with his hand. “It’s no big deal, Roy; the shares were cheap. I kinda bought it for a laugh anyway.”

“What kind of stock is it?”

“It’s in hamburgers.”

“Hamburgers?”

“Yeah. Some guy out in Ohio has a few hamburger joints. Art thinks he’s gonna be big some day, but I don’t know. I mean, how many hamburger chains can there be?” He ticked them off on his fingers. “You’ve already got McDonalds and Burger King, and then there’s Whitey’s. I mean, how many different kinds of burgers can there be?”

“Good point. What’s it called?”

Johnny smirked. “Wendy’s…or something like that. Wendy’s Old Fashioned Hamburgers, I think. Art grew up in Ohio and he knows the guy. Says he named the place after his daughter.”

Roy shook his head skeptically.

“Anyway, I bought the shares a few months ago, but I never received the certificates, probably because my house burned down. I’ll bring the stock certificates in to you guys when I get ‘em. I bought two hundred shares for you and Joanne and the kids, and a hundred each for the guys.”

“Two hundred!”

“It wasn’t that expensive, Roy.”

Roy looked at Johnny uncertainly.

“It’s all relative, Roy. It’s funny, when you’ve got a lot of money, a few thousand bucks seems like nothing. When you’re poor, it’s everything.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, thank you, Johnny. I appreciate it. We don’t have any stock, so it’ll be our first.”

Johnny grinned. “You can put it in your portfolio and go from there.”

Roy smiled. “It might be awhile before I can add to my ‘portfolio’. I’m concentrating on just getting the groceries paid for now.”

Johnny chuckled and shook his head.

“What?”

“Ah, I was just thinkin’ about Art. He always seemed to be looking out for me; always interested in my welfare. I kinda enjoyed talking about money and stocks and investing with him. He was really knowledgeable. I learned a lot from him.” He stopped, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You know, when I broke up with Heather, one of the things I was really bummed out about was never seeing him again. I really like the guy. He’s filthy rich, but he’s down to earth, you know?”

Roy nodded, only having met the man once or twice while Johnny was in the hospital, it was hard to form an opinion, but his first impression of the man had been a good one. “He seemed like a pretty nice guy. Did he teach you how to pick any good stocks?”

“Yeah, some. But there’s a lot to it. You have to do a lot of research. There was actually one company that I was interested in…I thought it might go somewhere. Art was checking into it before Heather and I split, but I never followed up on it.”

“What was it?”

Johnny furrowed his brow, trying to remember it. “Um, it was something like ‘soft’….um…Micro…..ah….Microsoft, I think. Yeah, that was it.”

“Microsoft? What’s that, they make microscopes or something?”

“No. Computers. Two guys in Albuquerque started this company. They’re interested in building a computer that you can use in your home.”

“Yeah, if people have the room for one.”

“Well, they’re makin’ them much smaller now. The one guy, his name is Gates, is only like twenty years old. They’ve invented this new language called ‘BASIC’ for computers. It’s like a universal language that everyone can use to program them. I don’t really understand it; it’s way over my head. But it sounds pretty interesting. I don’t know…I’ve just got a feeling about it.”

“Hm. Well, I’d say they better be able to improve on the computers that handled your paycheck and your credit card bill, or you’re gonna lose money if you invest.”

“Yeah. Well, it doesn’t matter at this point anyway, because they haven’t gone public yet. So, I’ve got time to think about it.”

“Good.”

The conversation seemed to stall as Johnny appeared to be lost in thought again.

Roy poked him in the side gently. “Hey, Mike’s makin’ fried chicken tonight.”

Johnny still appeared zoned out. “Huh. Okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll be in in a minute.”

“Okay.” Roy patted him once on the shoulder, then left him alone to think.

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

It was a beautiful day for a sail. The sun was warm, the sky was blue, the ocean sparkled, and the wind filled the sails perfectly. As majestic as it had been when it was new, the sleek sailboat cut through the water effortlessly, it’s polished decks and gleaming chrome proudly displaying their rebirth. Its name, ‘Serendipity’, had been repainted in bold red letters across the bow.

Everyone aboard had a wonderful time that day. It had been an afternoon full of good food and spirits, laughter, and lively conversation, the memory-forming kind shared amongst the closest of friends. Everyone caught plenty of fish, except Hank Stanley, of course, and for the second day in a row, the men enjoyed the women’s sunbathing almost as much as they did.

Yesterday had been spent in the backyard of the DeSoto residence, relaxing around their new in-ground swimming pool, and now the A-shift crew was enjoying the last moments of their two days off. The sun was going down, and they were heading back, after a long day at sea. The finale was a spectacular sunset, kissing the evening good-bye, completing a perfect day. Everyone was relaxed, sitting along the sides of the boat, relishing in the serenity of the droning waves splashing against the hull of the craft, and the cries of the seagulls as they floated above, following them into shore.

Johnny sat relaxed at the helm, totally content. He hadn’t been this happy in a long time. The wind blew through his dark hair, tousling it, and he finally removed his sunglasses now that the sun was going down. The air was damp and salty, and he breathed in deeply as he glanced around. Everyone looked happy and serene. Joanne was leaning against Roy, his arm around her shoulders; Chet and Cindy were laughing about something and Johnny saw him poke her in the side, making her giggle. Hank and Gloria were talking with Joe Early and Dixie, Mike and his wife were having a conversation with Marco and Christina. They’d invited Kelly Bracket and even Mike Morton, but both were on duty that day.

Johnny continued to steer the boat, turning his attention forward once again. He was going to sleep good tonight.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked around. Heather was standing next to him, her pink bikini top showing temptingly through her white gauze shirt, as it flapped around her shoulders in the wind. White shorts called attention to long, beautiful, tan legs, which he ogled admiringly before slowly lifting his eyes to her face.

She handed him a steaming mug. “Thought the captain could use a little coffee.”

He took it from her appreciatively and sipped at it, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Mm. What’s in it?”

“Just a little Bailey’s.”

“It’s great. Thanks.”

She slipped her arm around his shoulders, leaning into him. “Drink up. You’re gonna need that caffeine to keep you awake…for later.” Her voice took on a very suggestive tone.

His dark eyes smoldered as he looked up at her, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a very sexy crooked grin. He took another drink of the coffee, then set the cup down, urging her into his lap. She slid down onto his right knee, her breasts brushing his cheek seductively as she lowered herself. Her arm circled his neck, and his circled her waist.

He sighed contentedly. “Wanna sleep on the boat tonight?”

“Mm hmm. I brought a bottle of champagne for later.”

“Ah. Good idea.”

“I so like the way you drink champagne, John…Johnny.”

He smiled at her. “You don’t have to call me that, you know, if you’re not comfortable.”

“Yes I do. I want to call you what the people closest to you call you. Besides, I like it; it…fits you.”

He looked deep into her eyes and smiled softly. “Je t’aime,” he murmured.

She smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “I love you too,” she answered, then lowered her head toward him. Their lips came together in a tender kiss; his fingers moved up to entwine in her hair as he pulled her head closer.

Joanne sighed. “Johnny and Heather look so happy, don’t they?”

Roy glanced over at the kissing couple, then back at his wife. “Yeah, they’re happy. I think they’ll be happy when we’re off this boat.”

Joanne swatted him playfully. “Oh Roy; they will not. You know what I mean. The two of them just seem…I don’t know…really content.”

“Yep.”

“I’m glad they got back together.”

“Me too. Johnny’s a heck of a lot easier to live with now.”

“Roy!”

“Well, he is.” He looked at his wife and smiled. “I’m glad they got back together too, honey. He deserves it. I was….worried about him for awhile.”

“I know. I was too. He had so many bad things happen to him.”

Roy shook his head. “More than anyone deserves.”

Joanne nodded in agreement. “You know, someone could write a book about him.”

Roy looked at her and grimaced. “No one would believe it.”

“Probably not.” Joanne rested her head on his shoulder. “I wonder if they’ll get married.”

“Well, don’t go pickin’ out your dress just yet. You never know with Johnny.”

“I hope they do,” she sighed. “And I hope they’re as happy as we are.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at his smiling wife, seeing the dreamy expression in her eyes. “Me too,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek, squeezing her. His heart swelled with love for his wife of over ten years, and he suddenly had the urge to deliver a hot, searing kiss to her lips, but he wasn’t the type who felt comfortable displaying that kind of affection in public. He would wait until later. Instead, he looked at the love of his life and asked, “Would you like to dance, Mrs. DeSoto?”

She pulled back and looked at him in surprise. “Dance? Where’s the music?”

He stood up and took her by the hand. “C’mon. You’ve got both your legs now. We don’t need music.”

She looked at him in wonder, then stood up and he pulled her into his arms. Slowly, the two began a slow dance.

“Oh, look,” Cindy whispered to Chet, upon seeing Roy and Joanne dancing. “How romantic.”

Chet looked at her indignantly. “I can be romantic. C’mon.” He pulled her up off the seat, and he and Cindy joined Roy and Joanne on the ‘dance floor’.

Gloria Stanley nudged her husband, who turned away from his conversation with Joe Early. Hank noticed his youngest paramedic sitting behind the wheel with Heather on his lap, their arms around each other. Heather’s head was resting on top of Johnny’s as he steered the boat, her fingers alternating between playing with his hair and tickling his back. Roy and Joanne were gazing into each other’s eyes, while Chet held Cindy tightly, both couples dancing to invisible music.

Hank’s face pinched into a disgusted expression. “What is this, the Love Boat?”

Joe Early howled, and Gloria elbowed Hank in the ribs. He knew by the expression on his wife’s face that he better ask her to dance or he would be in the dog house, so he sighed resignedly and stood up, offering her his hand. The two stood up, and now three couples were dancing.

Marco and Christina looked at each other, then followed suit, along with Mike and his wife, Susan.

Dixie sat next to Joe, the two staring dumbfounded at all the lovesick couples.

“You put something in their drinks?” he asked her.

“I thought maybe you did,” she commented with a chuckle.

They both sat there a moment, feeling left out. Finally, Joe shrugged and stood up, offering his hand. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Dixie smiled and stood up, taking his hand. “That’s what I always say.” The two friends joined the others on the deck, and Joe took Dixie in his arms and began to dance with her. While the others merely swayed to invisible music, Joe flamboyantly twirled Dixie around, dipping her, and catching her in one arm before pulling her back to twirl her around some more. It wasn’t easy, given the constant swaying of the boat, and more than once, they almost lost their balance, giving them the appearance of being a little drunk.

Previously caught up in their own little world, Johnny and Heather sensed movement behind and around them, and turned to see what was going on. Two mouths dropped open simultaneously at the sight of six couples dancing around on the deck to no music. They glanced at each other, then returned their stare to the others; they couldn’t help but laugh to see the normally calm Dr. Early swinging Rampart Emergency’s Head Nurse around like he was Fred Astaire.

“Would you look at that,” Johnny murmured.

“Must be something in the air,” Heather commented.

Johnny looked upwards. The stars were out. “Maybe the planets are aligned the right way or the moon is in the seventh house or something.”

“Mmm. Must be,” she said, reaching down and pulling his chin up toward her.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long time, then kissed deeply.

Johnny was right. The moon, the sun, and the stars were all aligned perfectly – or something. Finally.

THE END

Okay, just a few things from the author…All mistakes are mine alone. I apologize to any of you sailing enthusiasts out there for any boo-boos I made about the sailing, which I am not knowledgeable about. I did the best I could despite my very limited knowledge on the subject.

Regarding Wendy’s, I do not know when they went public. Wendy’s actually started around 1968, however, by the time of this story, I don’t believe they were a national company yet, and I think they were relatively unknown.

I hope, for the purposes of this story, you can all forgive my little time line discrepancy regarding the California lottery. I believe it first started around the early to mid 1980’s, so I fudged the fact a bit to accommodate my story line.

Many thanks to my beta and friends who helped with this story. You know who you are. Please know how much you are appreciated!
 

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