Looking back, if you asked Roy, Captain Stanley, or Dixie when they noticed the difference, none of them would be able to pinpoint the exact time they began to worry.  Sickness steadily edged in, seeking its mark with cutting accuracy.  Under their eyes, its’ insidious course drained the life from his body, its’ subtle signs stacking one by one until its effect broke the surface.
 

But if you had asked John Gage, he could precisely pick out the moment he knew something was wrong.  There was no pain, no ache, no overt feeling of illness. But when Johnny woke up on the morning of July 19^th, he knew something was amiss.    He had no idea what it was, but fatigue dug down to the center of his bones, leaving them feeling like dust in his bed.  He lay quietly for a long while, until the call of his alarm would wait no more.  He willed himself from his bed, believing the overwhelming weariness would subside as the day went on.
 

He was wrong.  
 

And from that day forward, his life slowly wound down, his strength steadily sapped by an overzealous invader, dampening any hope of defense. 
 

***

 

“Where’s Gage?”  Captain Stanley asked, glancing at Roy.
 

“I think he’s in the dorm.   I’ll go get him.”  Roy pushed away from the table, and began to stand, but stopped when the Captain raised his hand.
 

“I’ll get him.”  Captain Stanley said quietly, “You eat.”
 

Roy nodded and dropped back into his chair.  Resting his elbows on the table, Roy stared at his plate.  He pushed it away, his appetite lost to a surge of worry that left his stomach unsettled. He stared at the table, and then looked up, his gaze flickering around the room, catching the other men’s eyes for a fraction of a second before falling back to focus on the plate in front of him.  He finally dropped his utensils onto his plate, and slowly got up from his chair, disposing the untouched meal in the trash, and laying his dishes quietly in the sink.  He stood there for a long  silent moment, then walked out of the kitchen.  The men watched him leave, the soft click of his boots fading away. 

 

*****

 

“John?” 

 

Captain Stanley sat down on Roy’s bunk, leaned forward, and gently shook the firefighter’s shoulder.
 

“John?” he repeated.
 

“Sorry, Cap.  Guess I fell asleep.”  Johnny sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand.
 

“Dinner’s on.”
 

“Oh, yeah?  Good.  Thanks, Cap.”   Johnny looked expectantly at his Captain, knowing the dinner announcement wasn’t the reason he was sitting on the bunk staring at him intently.
 

“How’re things going, John?”
 

“Okay.”
 

Hank nodded slowly, his brow wrinkled in concern.  He paused a moment longer.
 

“You’ve needed a lot of rest lately.”
 

“Yeah, just can’t seem to catch up.”
 

Hank nodded again.  He could tell Johnny anticipated his next question.
 

“Are you okay, John?”
 

Johnny caught his Captain’s eyes for a brief moment and looked away.  The pause was enough to shake the Captain, and Johnny’s words did nothing to restore his confidence in the man’s well being.
 

“I think so.”
 

Hank nodded, and reached out, resting his hand lightly on Gage’s shoulder. 
 

“If you need a little time off to beat this bug, John, let me know.  You’ve done me a lot of favors; it’s about time I returned them.”
 

“Thanks, Cap.  I’ll let you know.”

 

******

 

“Kel?” 
 

“Yeah, Dix.”  Brackett held out his hand for the reports she offered and immediately began scanning the pages.
 

“How do you think Johnny looks?”
 

“What?”
 

“Johnny. John Gage.” She stated, clearly annoyed by the Physician’s inattention. “I think he looks tired.  And pale.   Roy says he’s been lying low for a while. Stays home a lot. Sleeps through days off.  I’m worried about him.  Roy is too.”
 

“Maybe he’s been working too much overtime,” Brackett replied, his hand suddenly jutting out to catch an errant page of the report. He frowned at the page crammed with results.  He replied without pulling his gaze from the papers.  “And I can just imagine his diet.”
 

Dixie sighed when Brackett turn away and headed toward his office, continuing to scrutinize the reports precariously balanced in his hands. She stood and followed him.
 

“Kel, wait, I think he might be…sick.”  She finished the thought in her head, frowning as the Doctor’s office door firmly closed in front of her.  She placed her hand on the door and dropped her gaze in defeat.
 

I hope you’re right, Dixie thought, I really hope you’re right.

 

******

 

Captain Stanley eyed Johnny, his brow rising in concern when he saw John raise the oxygen mask to his face. 
 

 Johnny drew a few quick breaths before dropping the mask to the ground beside him, coughing as he resumed dressing his partner’s head wound.
 

The Captain kneeled next to him, resting one hand lightly on his shoulder. 
 

“Too much smoke, Pal?”
 

Johnny didn’t look up, but continued caring for Roy. 
 

“Yeah.”
 

“You need another squad?”
 

“No, Cap.  Ambulance will be here soon.  I’m taking Roy and Levin.” He gestured to the firefighter sitting on the curb, a white bandage gracing his left eye.  “Levin scratched a cornea.”
 

“You okay to handle ‘em?”
 

Johnny ceased his ministrations and looked up at his Captain, pausing before he spoke.
 

“I won’t be back, Cap.”
 

“If breathing’s that tough, John, I’ll call for another squad and…”
 

Johnny raised his hand slightly, silencing the Captain. Johnny’s voice was a mere whisper.
 

“It has nothing to do with smoke.”
 

Captain Stanley studied Johnny’s sallow complexion and the circles painted in wide dark arcs around his eyes.  He knew it had been weeks since Johnny appeared well.
 

Johnny broke the Captain’s gaze for a moment, looking from Roy to the fire and back to his Captain.
 

Captain Stanley understood the medic’s thoughts immediately.
 

 “You did fine in there, John.”
 

“This time, Cap.  Barely.   I know I can’t handle it again.”  Johnny stopped and looked down at Roy. He shook his head.  “I’m too tired. We all know something’s wrong.  ‘bout time I found out what it is.”
 

Stanley closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded. 
 

“I’ll help any way I can, John.”
 

“You already have, Cap.  I appreciate it.”

 

****

 

“How’s Roy?” Dixie asked, eying the paramedic.
 

“He’ll be here overnight.  Mild concussion and some smoke inhalation.”
 

“You’re a bit raspy yourself.”
 

“Yeah, took me a while to get out.”
 

Dixie raised a brow at his tone.  “Johnny, what’s up?”
 

He stared at her before averting his gaze.
 

“I’ve been feeling pretty rough lately.  I could barely drag Roy out of there tonight.”  
 

“I’ve been worrying about you.”
 

“Me too.”
 

“You want to talk to Kel?”
 

“I told Cap I wouldn’t be back.  I can’t risk hurting anybody because I can’t keep up.”
 

“I’ll get him, Johnny. He’s in his office.” Dixie rested one hand on his slumped shoulder, and with the other, she tipped his head up and met his eyes.  “We’ll take good care of you, Johnny. I promise.”

 

***

 

 “Kel,” she said, “I need to talk with you.”
 

Dr. Brackett continued to study the notes he was reading.  “Hey, Dix.  What’s going on?”
 

“I need you to come look at Johnny.”
 

Kel looked up, immediately concerned.  “He was hurt in the fire? I had no idea.”
 

“He took in some smoke, but that’s not the problem.”
 

“Well, what’s wrong?”
 

“I don’t know.”
 

Brackett’s brows furrowed.  “You’ve lost me.”
 

“He’s sick Kel.  Something’s not right.  He’s felt bad for a while, weeks really.  I’ve seen it myself.  Tired, quiet, pale.  Look close.  It’s not hard to see.”
 

“I didn’t notice.”
 

“I know you haven’t.  But if I can’t convince you, then perhaps this will.  Johnny pulled himself off duty tonight.  Indefinitely.  He told his Captain he wouldn’t be back to work.”
 

Dr. Brackett looked surprised.  “Really?”
 

“He said he could barely pull Roy out of that fire and he won’t risk hurting anyone because he can’t do his job anymore.”
 

“You mentioned something a while ago…”
 

“Yes, and I didn’t pursue it.  I regret it now.”
 

“You’re really worried.”
 

“I’m afraid of what you’ll find.”
 

Brackett paused a moment, studying the nurse’s expression before standing.
 

“Where is he?”
 

“At the base station.”
 

“Set him up in Treatment Three.”
 

“Thanks,” she said, pulling open the door.  Dixie paused a moment and glanced back at the Doctor.   “I’ve got a bad feeling, Kel. When you see him, you’ll understand.”

 

*********

 

When Brackett finally took an honest look at John Gage, he understood immediately, without even laying a hand on the weary paramedic.  Johnny’s drawn, grey complexion was so out of character, that the paramedic’s lack of animation was overshadowed by his appearance.  Brackett wished Gage had a spleen, because at least it might give him a clue of what was happening.   He stepped forward and stood before Johnny, silently studying him before he spoke.  
 

“John, tell me about what’s been going on.”
 

Johnny looked up at the Doctor and sighed. He paused for a long moment. 
 

“I think I’m dying, Doc.”
 

Brackett’s lips drew into a tight line.  One thing he knew for sure after years of practicing Emergency Medicine: when a patient tells you straight out that they’re dying, ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, it’s absolutely true.   Typically a skeptic, this time, Brackett was an instant believer.  He pulled a chair over to the bed, and settled down beside the medic.  
 

“When did you start feeling sick?”
 

“About a month ago.”
 

“What did you feel like then?”
 

“I don’t know.  Just woke up one morning, and felt tired.  Bone tired. Like ten times worse than pulling a 24 hour shift with a four - alarmer.”
 

“Do you have a lot of body aches?  Pain anywhere?”
 

“Achy I guess, no real pain.  Just tired and achy.  So tired, I feel like dust in my bed.”
 

“How’s your appetite?”  
 

Johnny pulled at his belt, which sagged off his body.  “Not very good.”
 

“Have you weighted yourself?”
 

“I’m a guy, of course not.”
 

Brackett offered a fleeting smile. 
 

“Okay, how about fevers?”
 

“I don’t know.  Sweat like crazy at night.   So maybe.”
 

Brackett’s jaw tightened.  “It is enough that you have to change your clothes?”
 

“Yeah.  Sometimes. It’s getting worse.”
 

Brackett nodded, trying to maintain his expression despite the sinking feeling that overcame him in the last few minutes.  Classic B symptoms, he thought. 
 

“I’m not giving the right answers, am I, Doc.”
 

“What do you mean, John?”
 

Johnny sighed.  “It’s not good.   I’ve known you too long, Doc.”
 

“Well, Johnny, I really don’t know yet, but I am concerned.  The weight loss, fatigue and sweats can mean many things.  I need to do an exam, as well as some blood tests.   You’re obviously anemic, which can lead to your symptoms.  I’ll also get a blood smear.  The virus you had last year may have caused some latent problems, I really am not sure. Bear with me.  I’ll figure it out.”
 

“I trust you, Doc.  You’ve dragged my hide back from the brink too many times.”
 

Brackett looked at Johnny for a long moment, and for once he wasn’t sure what to say. Finally he settled for a soft smile, and gripped Johnny’s shoulder.  “Get some rest hose-jockey, the vampire will be in once I put in some orders.  I’ll be getting some x-rays.   Do you have any questions?”
 

Johnny had plenty of questions, but opted for a silent shake of his head.  He didn’t want to hear Brackett’s thoughts at the moment, although he knew from his demeanor that the man was worried.   A worried Brackett never bears good news.  But Johnny already sensed the outcome, so he laid back on the stretcher, and flung his arm over his eyes, blocking out the glaring overhead lights.   He settled quickly, drifting off into silent slumber.

 

******

 

If he was startled by the lab printout, Brackett didn’t show it.  His eyes scanned line by line, his mind sorting though a list of possible differential diagnoses.  He mentally crossed them off one by one, until only two remained.  
 

It would surprise many to know that a doctor often struggles with his words. Scant hours of training in delivering bad news often leaves one uneasy when faced with uncomfortable silence.  Brackett sighed, hesitant to push open the Treatment Room door.  He pictured Johnny running down the bases and diving into home plate only two months ago, when he watched the Fire Department’s Charity Softball Tournament.  He couldn’t believe the speed of Johnny’s downward spiral.  He kicked himself for not pursuing the issue weeks ago, when Dixie mentioned how worn Gage appeared.  He had shuffled it off in his haste to do other tasks, reasoning the young man was living life in overdrive.  Brackett scanned the paper again, mentally berating himself.  Some Doctor, he thought, stuffing the page in his lab coat.  It was under your nose for weeks and you missed it.
 

Johnny was leaning back on the stretcher, his legs thrown carelessly in front of him.  One hand was hooked on his pocket while the other lay on his chest.  His breaths were easy and shallow, his chest silently rising and falling easily as he slept.
 

Dixie studied his pale grey complexion.   She imagined his dark brown eyes and his spirited smile, and frowned at his now familiar wan visage.  She looked up when the door swung open, and heard the sharp click of Brackett’s shoes.  A chill prickled her skin. 
 

Brackett’s lips were pulled taut.  His brow bunched together into a tight knotted line.  One hand was stuffed firmly in his lab coat pocket, while the other clutched a white sheet of paper. It was wrinkled by the force of his grasp.
 

Dixie caught her breath. Bad news, she thought.  Her chest felt full,  feeling as if she couldn’t draw a decent breath.  She looked down at Johnny. His healthy tan was a vague memory, replaced by the sallow shades of illness. His cheeks looked as if they were dusted white with powder, his spirited brown eyes marred by grey lines of fatigue.
 

Johnny must have sensed their presence, and anticipated this moment, because both Brackett and Dixie were startled by his soft words.
 

“How bad is it, Doc?”

 

*****

 

Hours later, he still didn’t know how bad ‘it’ was.   Fatigued after the efforts of the fire, he could barely keep his eyes open a moment longer.  Settling into the soft white pillow, Johnny’s eyes automatically shut, his worries overcome by physical exhaustion.  He pulled the cannula from his face, uncomfortable from the dry oxygen.  To hell with it, he thought, drifting off to sleep, I’m probably dying anyway.
 

But sleep proved fleeting, and as soon as his eyelids touched down, the door swung open again and a sharp voice yanked him from slumber. 
 

“Mr. Gage?”  
 

Johnny felt a hand shake his shoulder.  “Not now.”
 

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Gage, but I’m Dr. Lillian Chase, and I’m here to consult on your case.  We need to have a talk about what’s going on and what I am going to do about it.”
 

Johnny sighed and briefly clamped his eyes shut. Her voice was grating, and her tone condescending.   He was silent for a moment, and then cracked open his eyes.  “I don’t know about what we are going to do, but I am going back to sleep.” 
 

The Doctor stared at him through narrowed eyes.  “I was told by Ms. McCall that you are typically compliant, with only occasional half-hearted resistance.”
 

Johnny’s eyes opened and his lips drew into a thin line.  The words snapped out before he could stop them.
 

“Not today. Get out.”
 

“What?”
 

“I said, Get. Out.”
 

The Doctor stared at the young man, clearly shocked that he would reject her consult. Her eyes shifted from shock to irritation.  A flip reply was fresh on her lips, but quickly died when she saw his chocolate brown eyes look up at her.   She noted no anger in them, no new retort, rather a bone weary fatigue coupled with sad resignation.  She stepped back and paused.

 

“Mr. Gage?  John?”  She hesitated, unused to feeling this uncomfortable dealing with a patient.   Usually patients easily acquiesced to her wishes, and responded quickly to her brusk manner. He remained silent, and his eyes fluttered closed. 
 

“John, I’m sorry.  This is a lot to take in.”  
 

Johnny sighed, his eyes remaining closed and his features smooth when he finally spoke.  
 

“I’m tired.  I’m a hundred years old tonight.  Need to sleep.  This all’s waited months.  It can wait another eight hours.  No more talking.  Just sleeping.”
 

Lillian paused, unfamiliar with apathy and orders from patients.  Usually patients were clamoring with their families to speak with her, ready to jump on the first bandwagon she proposed.  
 

“John, are you depressed?”
 

One eye opened, searing her with his stare.  “I’m exhausted.  Worn out.  Depression will come later.  Right now, I need to sleep.  I promise I’ll cooperate in the morning.  Right now...”
 

“Sleep.  I get it,” Lillian finished.  “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
 

“Not before nine,” he countered. 
 

Lillian wanted to be angry, couldn’t help but snicker.  “Not before nine,” she repeated.  Tipping her head, she studied him for a moment, a soft smile curving the edges of her lips.  “Sleep well, John.”

 

****

 

He slept surprisingly well, despite the ebb and flow of noise flowing down the halls of the 6th floor.  He knew Dixie had peeked in this morning, the only clue to her presence was the lingering sweetness of her perfume. The corner of his lips curved upward at the thought of her quiet presence.
 

The feeling was fleeting, however, and the pleasant thought of Dixie’s visit whispered away with the reality of the four white walls that surrounded him.  A tomb, he thought, startling himself with morbid thought.  Calm throughout last night’s ordeal, the light of day brought the realization that the doctor visiting him was an oncologist. His bravado of the night before fled.  Sweat broke out on his brow. His skin prickled.  Johnny’s eyes shifted around the room, searching for an escape.   He knew there was nowhere he could go and truly avoid hearing the words he knew would threaten his life.
 

It was odd to him, that despite chancing death for years, he would feel so unsettled.  The other problems were without a doubt life-threatening, but somehow, the trauma he had suffered came with confident treatment by Brackett or Early, whom Johnny trusted implicitly.  This Doctor, this brusque woman, was an unknown.  He was sure Brackett cherry-picked her, and only his hand could have resulted in her late night consult.  Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of distrust for this outsider.
 

At two minutes after nine, Dr. Lillian Chase slowly pushed open the door and quietly approached his bedside. 
 

“Mr. Gage, you awake?”
 

“Barely.”
 

“Were you able to get some rest?”
 

“Yeah, thanks for understanding and letting me sleep.”
 

“You’re most welcome. How are you feeling today?”
 

“About the same.  Maybe not as tired, but still pretty wiped out.”
 

Lillian paused for a moment, studying his complexion.  A frown flittered across her lips.
 

Johnny sighed, feeling resigned by her negative expression. “So what going on?  They did a lot of blood tests.”
 

“Yes, John.  The blood tests were abnormal, and show a markedly elevated white count.”
 

“Leukemia?”  John whispered, a chill passing over his shoulders. 

 

“I’m not sure at the moment. It has not declared itself as of yet.”
 

“What the heck does that mean?”
 

“Well, the only way to know what’s truly going on is by a bone marrow biopsy.”
 

“I don’t want one.”  Johnny shivered at the thought.  He had seen the size of the trochar and needle before, and didn’t want anyone messing with his hips.  Especially after the femur fracture he suffered years before.
 

Dr. Chase carefully schooled her disapproval.  “No one does, John, but what I understand from Dixie and Dr. Brackett, and you are usually aggressive with treatment decisions and comply with testing. 
 

“I trust them. Brackett’s saved my life more than once.  I don’t know you.”
 

“I understand that, but please know that Dr. Brackett called me personally last night to see you. We both discussed the evaluation and possible diagnoses, and he agreed with my plan.  Would you like for me to have him to speak with you?”
 

Johnny paused, studying her for a long moment, his chest tightening.   “No, I understand.  Let’s just get it over with.”
 

“Thank you John.  I promise I’ll take good care of you, and we’ll work together to make you well again.”
 

“Do you think that’s possible?”
 

“It’s a good question, that I can’t entirely answer yet.  Once we get the biopsy, I’ll do a few special tests on the marrow, then I’ll have more information to clear things up.”
 

John cringed at the thought of the biopsy, but nodded, remaining silent.   He didn’t really like her, but since Brackett sent her, he knew she must be an excellent doctor.  Brackett could be a pain, but he always took good care of him, and expected nothing but the very best from his Doctors. 
 

“Okay, when?” 
 

“I’ll set it up for later today.  I’ll give you a little IV medication to help you relax, along with some local anesthesia, but you’ll be awake.  It will only take a short time.  It shouldn’t be very painful, but the medicine will help you feel relaxed during the procedure.”
 

Johnny nodded slowly, understanding the ‘physician speak’ for ‘you’ll be awake and in pain whether you like it or not.’    He sighed heavily, fatigue settling heavily in his bones, causing his eyes to again drift closed despite his trepidation. 

 

Lillian lightly touched his shoulder, pausing until his eyes opened.  “I’ll take good care of you John, I promise.”
 

Johnny nodded, the darkness quickly enveloping him and he drifted off to restless sleep. 

 

*******

 

The pain was excruciating.  It was all he could do not to cry out.  He kept thinking about the night he was hit by the car.  That was easily worse than this, but the chill of the trochar splintering his bone brought back a surge of buried memories, along with the shock and fear of that night.  He could feel sweat gathering and running down his chest, and a warm flush enveloped him.  Darkness flooded his vision, and a narrow bright light and distant shouts filled his senses. The last thing he remembered was Lillian’s voice calling his name, and a stale plastic mask pressing firmly on his face. 

 

******

 

He could feel the gentle touch of a soft feminine hand sweep over this forehead, brushing the hair from his eyes. She continued her gentle fuss, rearranging his blankets, and tucking them snugly around his shoulders.  He relished the warmth, and floated aimlessly in vague snatches of thought that softly drifted away as quickly as they appeared. 
 

It was a sweet whisper flowing over the stillness, that lulled him deeper into darkness.  He heard nothing save the gentle sighs of his easy breaths.  A warm hand swept over his skin, lightly rubbing his chest.  His name was whispered in the distance, drawing him from solitude.    His eyes drifted open to the dark room, her figure gently outlined by the soft glow from night’s light.
 

“Johnny?”  she whispered.  A strand of blond hair broke free when she leaned over him.  Smiling, Dixie gently brushed his cheek with her warm hand.  
 

“Are you in pain?”
 

Johnny took a moment to process her words, then shook his head once, settling back into the comfort of his covers.
 

“Want to try some water?”
 

His eyes again opened, and he nodded.  Dixie placed the small cup to his lips, and he sipped slowly, turning away after a moment. 
 

“You want to sleep?”
 

“Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes becoming unfocused.  He settled back into the bed, and with a whispered word of thanks, he drifted off. 
 

Dixie watched him closely, worried lines marring the usual smoothness of her expression. The results wouldn’t be back for another day. Anxiety shivered her thoughts.  She hadn’t seen him so still since the day he was brought in after being bitten by the rattlesnake.  He was deathly ill then, and now, he looked worse.  Nausea churned in her stomach, and tears welled in her eyes.  Deep wrinkles accentuated her distress. She brushed a hand over his cheek, and rested it lightly on his chest.   She stood watching sleep carry him away, his head sagging to the side in comfortable silence.   She didn’t let go of his hand until the night nurse bustled in the room, startling her from her silent vigil. 
 

The nurse picked up his chart, and scanned the  notes.  She looked up at Dixie. “You’ve been here a long time.”
 

Dixie averted her eyes.  “Yes,” she whispered.
 

“You doing okay?” Jennifer asked.  “I know he’s a friend of yours.”
 

Dixie nodded, but a reply stalled in her throat. 
 

“ Lillian’s a great doctor, Dix. We all have faith in her. She’s a tough one, but that tenacity has saved a lot of lives.  From what I’ve heard about your paramedic, he’s cut from the same cloth.  Tough and fearless.”
 

Dixie nodded again, her gaze never leaving John’s face.  She wanted to reply, but her throat was tight, cut off by the sorrow welling in her eyes. 
 

The nurse adjusted Johnny’s IV, and smoothed out his rumpled covers, ensuring his he was at ease.  When she was done, she stepped back, studied him for a moment, confirming his comfort.  Nodding in satisfaction, she turned her attention away from him  and looked down at Dixie, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. 
 

“No one knows what the outcome of this will be, but this boy has lots of people praying for him, and Lillian is not one to give up.  Like I said, they’re both similar in nature.  She’s won’t let go easily, and I know Johnny won’t either. Its a good match for the road ahead.”  Jennifer watched Johnny for a long moment, and then gently brushed stray bangs from his forehead.   “Rest well,” she whispered, and turning away, she quietly slipped from the room, glancing back at the head nurse with a furrowed brow before the door slid closed.  
 

Dixie sat quietly, watching John’s chest rise slowly in even, soft breaths.  She knew today was the day.  It would be the moment he would find out what his future held.  A vision of him as a weak, thin, sallow shadow of himself caused her closely held emotions to well up.  She turned away, seeking to control her sorrow.   Dixie was surprised when a warm hand brushed hers. 
 

Her gaze snapped up, and she immediately offered the paramedic a soft smile. 
 

“Johnny, it’s good to see you awake.”
 

His gaze wandered, taking in his surroundings.  He looked puzzled, but when his eyes found hers, they stalled for a long moment.
 

“Dix.”
 

Dixie leaned over, gently caressing the stray bangs from his forehead. “Hey,”  she smiled, “how’re you feeling?”
 

Johnny watched her closely.  He finally nodded, his hand searching for hers before he replied.  “ ‘Kay.”  He swallowed a few times, clearing his throat. “Water?”
 

Dixie smiled, “Of course.”  She reached for the pitcher, and poured a small amount of chilled water into the cup.  Raising his bed, she allowed him to settle, and then raised the cup to his lips.  He sipped slowly,  and then laid back, sinking onto the comfort of his pillows. 
 

“Thanks.”
 

“You’re welcome.  How are you feeling?  Are you in any pain?”
 

His eyes wandered again, but he shook his head.  “I’m okay..  Just wiped out.”  He studied his blankets for a long moment, his gaze wandering over the bed before seeking her out again.
 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 
 

Dixie offered a soft smile. “Anytime, my friend.”
 

“Has Lillian been around?”
 

Dixie was amused by his use of the Physician’s first name.  “She was in very early today, and said she’d be back around 11 am.”
 

Johnny nodded thoughtfully.  “I didn’t think I’d like her, but she’s alright.”

 

Dixie smiled.  “Well, I think you set the ground rules pretty clearly from the outset.  Must have been that charm you have that the guys always talk about.”
 

Johnny’s quiet laughter softened the aching that had settled in her chest since his admission.  She couldn’t help but smile at the sweet sound, one that she had worried she wouldn’t hear again.   The momentary comfort fled quickly. 
 

“I really never thought this is the way I’d die.”
 

“Johnny…” she started, startled by his dark admission.  Her reply was silenced by the brief shake of his head. 
 

“Always thought it would be on the job.  Lord knows I’ve pushed the envelope too many times.  Odd isn’t it?  I think most firefighters pray to die of old age, but if they have to go earlier, they want it to be quick, brave, and hopefully occurring during the act of saving someone’s life.”  His gaze dropped to the bedsheets, and he picked at the blanket covering his legs.  “Tough to think that despite the way you’ve lived, you’ll just quietly wither away.” He paused for a moment, pulling a thread from his blanket. He looked up at her.  “It’s just not my style.”
 

“What are you thinking, Johnny?”
 

He focused on her intently,  smiled briefly, then averted his gaze.
 

“Not sure yet.”
 

“Sounds like you might have an idea.”
 

Johnny lay silent for a long moment.  “Maybe.”
 

She tipped her head, her brow raised in a silent question.  He didn’t elaborate further, and she fretted over the possibilities.  She was fearful that he would leave, and end up alone.  That was the last thing she wanted for him.  He had become an important part of her life, as well as Roy’s and so many others, that the thought of him leaving them behind left her breathless.   It was a long moment before she found her voice.
 

“Johnny, it’s tough to make decisions in the midst of all this uncertainty.  Promise me you’ll listen to Lillian and consider the options.  You know I’m here to help you, as well as Roy.  Don’t go this alone.  There’s no reason to.”
 

He studied her for a long while, then nodded slowly.  “I’ll think about it.”
 

She couldn’t help the tears that tipped onto her cheeks. 
 

“Dix, please don’t. I just can’t handle it.”
 

She brushed the tears away, pushing back her emotions. 
 

“Sorry.”
 

“No, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said anything right now.  It’s all pretty confusing.”
 

“You absolutely should.  I’m being selfish John.  You’re important to me, and I don’t want you to withdraw from me or others that care about you and want to help.”
 

He nodded slowly, but she could tell he was unsettled.  
 

“It’ll all work out, Dix,”  he paused for a long moment, concluding with a whisper. “One way or the other.”

 

*******

 

An hour later, Dixie found Dr. Chase pouring over laboratory reports.  Dixie was hesitant, but sat across from the woman, reluctant to interrupt her rapt attentions to the papers laid out before her. 
 

After a few minutes, the Doctor nodded to herself, then closed the report with a sigh. When she looked up,  she was startled by Dixie’s presence.  
 

“That sigh did not inspire confidence.”
 

Lillian frowned, looking intently at the nurse.  “I always share results with the patient first.”
 

“Fair enough.” Dixie replied. 
 

“You know him well?”
 

“For a long time.”
 

“He’s a strong young man.”
 

“As tough as they come.”
 

“Good.”
 

Dixie paused, unable to interpret the Doctor’s meaning.  She settled with a deep sigh.
 

“He has family?” Lillian asked.
 

“Some,” Dixie replied, “but I don’t believe they are close.  He never mentions visiting anyone.”
 

Lillian nodded silently. 
 

“Will he be okay?”  Dixie ventured, unhappy about the implications of her question.
 

“I’ll provide that information to my patient.  And he can speak with you about it,  if it’s his will.”
 

Dixie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  “I’m sorry.”
 

Lillian tipped her head, her thoughts clear to the nurse.  “He doesn’t want to contact family.  He seems adamant to go it alone.”
 

“Will he need a lot of support?”
 

Lillian paused perceptibly.   “I think only for a short while.”  
 

Dixie settled back in the chair, not sure of how to interpret the cryptic conversation.
 

Lillian stared at her for a moment.  “I need to talk with John.”
 

Lillian stood abruptly, walked to the door and pulled it open.  She turned back before leaving. She paused briefly, and a whisper of a smile crossed her lips. “ Then maybe you might go and speak with him.” 
 

Dixie felt somewhat hopeful, and eyed the woman, her expression brightening.  She watched Lilian walk away, then sipped her coffee.  The brew was cold and bland, but Dixie didn’t notice, and let out a tentative sigh of relief.  

 

******

 

“John, how are you feeling this morning?”
 

Johnny stirred, and looked up at Lillian, his eyes squinting tightly from the bright light.  

 

Lillian didn’t miss his frown, but she was used to such a reception after all these years as an oncologist. 
 

“I’m okay.  Same.  Really tired.  Sleep doesn’t help.”
 

She nodded thoughtfully.   “Well, if you can sit up for a moment, we can talk about the findings of your bone marrow biopsy.”
 

Johnny froze for a moment, then let out a deep sigh.  “Might as well get it over with.”
 

Lillian frowned.  “The news is equivocal, but certainly not bad.”  She watched him closely for a response, but his expression hadn’t changed.  She studied him for a moment, recognizing the sharp features of his American Indian heritage.  A tough one, she thought.  That’s an advantage.
 

“Your bone marrow shows you have elevated lymphocytes, a type of cell line in normal blood.  You have a remarkable increase in the proportion of these cells which has crowded out your bone marrow’s ability to make other cells you need.  For example, you have fewer red cells, which made you anemic, and fewer neutrophils, which are infection fighting cells.  That, on top of not having a spleen makes you vulnerable to infection.  Do you follow me so far?”
 

Johnny nodded silently. 
 

Lillian paused a moment, and then continued.  “ I do not believe at this point, that you have a true leukemia.   Rather, I think you are having what’s called a ‘leukemoid reaction’.  What this means, is that you are making a large number of a certain type of blood cell in reaction to something you were exposed to.  What that was, I have no idea.   It could be a chemical from a fire, it could be a virus.  But because your bone marrow is making mostly these particular cells, you have a deficit of the others, for example, the platelets that help in plugging up small injuries to tissues and blood vessels, and the red blood cells that carry oxygen.  You can see this by the non-blanchable little red spots on your skin, and the lightheadedness you get if you stand too quickly.  It also doesn’t allow formation of other cells in the blood, such as neutrophils, which fight infection, which is why we have you isolated, and staff uses masks and gloves when they are here with you.   There are a couple of treatments we can try, but often this will resolve on its own.  Unfortunately, it may take a while.”
 

“It’s not related to the virus I caught last year?”
 

“No, I don’t believe so. I think it’s more likely from something you were exposed to at a fire or perhaps a patient who was ill. Being without a spleen doesn’t help us much.”
 

“How long will this last?”
 

“It’s a good question, and I don’t have an specific answer, but what I can tell you, is that your counts, while still remarkably low, have somewhat improved.  I’m going to start you on some anti-viral medication, and keep the IV going.  I need you to eat, even if you don’t feel like it.  I don’t care what you choose as long as you’re getting some calories.  The last thing we need is for you to lose more weight.   I’ve asked the nurses to bring you fluids and snacks of your choice frequently, as well as your preferred meals.  I need you to eat something, even if you aren’t hungry, which I know you haven’t had an appetite.  If you can’t keep it down, I’ll order some extra supplement shakes, and since I heard that ice cream is one of your favorites, I asked them put some on your tray with every meal.”  She paused for a moment to let him digest the information.  She could tell he had something on his mind, and she instinctively knew his concerns. 
 

“I’m confident we can be successful in treating this John.  Do you have any questions?”
 

He looked up at her, catching her eyes for a long moment.  “You’ll be honest if something goes badly.  You’d let me know?”
 

She nodded, “Yes John, I will.  I’m straight shooting at all times.”
 

“Thanks.”
 

“My pleasure.  Get some rest.  Eat something.  I’ll be back in the afternoon.”  She got up and walked to the door.  Pausing briefly, she looked back at him.  “I know it’s difficult not to worry, but I do think you will get better.  So lets just accept that for now, okay?”
 

Johnny nodded, and watched her offer a brief smile and head out into the hallway.   He laid back in the bed, exhausted by the effort of sitting up for the past two hours.  His hip ached like heck, but he didn’t ring the nurse.  He didn’t want to be spaced out on narcotics, and he didn’t want her asking him questions either.  The particular nurse had a sympathetic expression that for some reason left him feeling vulnerable and weak. It was starting to grate on him.  He’d be glad when her shift was over.   Suddenly overcome by fatigue, Johnny rested his head back on his pillow, the cool soft fabric allowing him to comfortably settle, and his eyes fell closed.  With a soft sigh, he drifted into silent slumber. 

 

******

 

 

“Hey, go easy will yah?  The last nurse left his huge bruise!”  He held up his arm, revealing large purple bruise.
 

“Ouch, looks like that hurts.  I’ll bring you some warm compresses.  Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
 

Johnny grumbled under his breath, knowing that was the exact thing the last vampire told him.   
 

Once she obtained the necessary vials, she placed gauze over the site and pressed down firmly.
 

“I’ll do that,”  Johnny said. 
 

“It’s okay, John, I want to be sure this one is completely stopped before I bandage it up.  I don’t want a bad reputation.”  She graced him with a brief smile.  
 

“Well, you didn’t do this one,” he said, again holding up the effected arm.  
 

Janie resisted rolling her eyes, as she had had this same conversation with him twice before.  She knew he was tired, and she knew he didn’t feel well,  but she also understood that a bored John Gage, was a crabby John Gage.  She hoped for her sake, Roy or some of his crew would visit him and raise his spirits today.  He was off to a rough start, and she was sure his worry related to the impending bone marrow results was overwhelming.  
 

She checked under the bandage and satisfied the blood flow had ceased, she folded a 2x2 into a neat square, and tightly covered it with paper tape.  She grasped his hand, and placed it over the site.  “Press hard.  Five minutes.  No less.  Unless of course you want to  sport purple over this arm too, for a long, long time.”
 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I know, I know.  I do this for a living too, remember?”    He pressed firmly on the gauze to prove his point. 
 

Janie smiled, and paused until he looked up at her.  “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”
 

Johnny understood the real meaning of message and couldn't help but smile.  “Thanks, Janie.  Lillian should be here a bit to talk about the results.  I appreciate your helping me.”
 

Janie nodded, trying to hide her worry for the young man.  “You bet,” she replied with a bright smile.  “I’ll be back in a while.”
 

Johnny nodded and watched her leave.  Once the door closed, he fell back on his pillows and shut his eyes.  He had a headache, which was worsening by the minute, no doubt the result of the tension he felt awaiting Lillian’s return with the results of his tests.   He was glad Janie was gone,  he was exhausted and worry was consumed his every thought. 
 

I always thought it would be a call that would finally finish things for me.   That I could understand.  That would have some meaning.  But this?  All the struggle and no purpose.  His mood spiraled from panic to despair.   He looked up as the door opened. 
 

“John.”  Lillian held a small stack of papers in her hand. “I have the results, so lets talk.”
 

Johnny pulled himself fully upright in bed, trying to dampen a vulnerable feeling that overtook him.  He felt suddenly weak by her unreadable expression.  The Doctor avoided his gaze, which he took at a bad sign.
 

“Okay, I have the bone marrow results and the blood tests.  It looks like a leukemoid reaction.”
 

Johnny froze. “And?”
 

“It’s not cancer.”
 

Johnny fell back onto his pillows. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment with his eyes closed tightly.   When he finally looked back at the Doctor, she was patiently waiting for him to recover. 
 

“Now what?” he whispered. 
 

“John, you were hospitalized about two months ago with smoke inhalation, and later suffered a secondary pulmonary infection?”
 

“Yes, I had a relapse when I came back to work.”
 

“ I think that infection was the triggering event.”
 

“I still have the infection?”
 

“No, the infection is gone,  but you had a reaction to the  infection.  I believe with some time, it will reverse, and you will recover without adverse effects.”
 

Johnny’s eyes once again closed.  He wasn’t a stranger to standing at death’s door, but the  uncertainty of this unseen challenge left him weak.   A ruptured spleen he could fight.  A broken leg could mend.  But this betrayal of his own body had left him defenseless.    While he certainly hadn’t entirely warmed to Lillian, his heart turned, and he suddenly felt as if she had swooped down and plucked him from the proverbial flames. 
 

Lillian patiently waited until she could sense John’s thoughts settle.  “John, you are quite anemic and this will hamper your recovery.  I’d like to order a transfusion to bring up your levels.  Your hemoglobin and hematocrit are remarkably low,  and will leave you tired and lightheaded, especially once you start moving around.  I venture to say that you could even suffer a syncopal episode unless we can increase your hematocrit.”  
 

“I’m okay with that.  I had one before, when I was hit by a car.”
 

Lillian frowned, “Yes, the impetus of your splenectomy.”  
 

Johnny thought she was going to add more, but her expression smoothed out and she went back to reviewing her notes. 
 

“I’ll have two units of blood set up to be transfused. One for later today, and then I will review how you are doing tomorrow.  If all goes well, and your symptoms improve, we may be able to avoid the second unit.”
 

Johnny nodded, watching the Doctor close her notes and stand up beside him.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.  If you have any troubles, don’t hesitate to ring for the nurse.  They have my number and I told them to page me with any change or concern regarding your condition.”
 

“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate your help.”
 

Lillian paused, an atypical smile gracing her lips. “You’re most welcome, John.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”
 

Johnny watched the Doctor walk from his room.  Despite good news, the conversation left him shaken.   While he trusted her, Johnny couldn’t help but worry.   He closed his eyes, and settled back in his bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders. He was exhausted, and as he lay quietly, he hoped she was right about his prognosis. He felt blindsided, and the helplessness of his predicament was something foreign to him.  His thoughts drifted back to Lillian.   She didn’t have a ring, and he could understand why.  She likely lived her job, and unfortunately, her chosen field required one to build barriers against inevitable losses. 
 

He thought of Dixie, and smiled, surprised she hadn’t already popped in the second Lillian departed.  Dixie was a great nurse, and a good friend to him, helping him through some hard times.   He settled into his pillows, pulling the covers over his shoulders.  Exhausted, awareness quickly slid away to gentle sleep.  
 

He didn’t hear the door quietly open.  Dixie studied John closely from across the room.  He looked comfortable, his face smooth without a trace of worry or pain.  She hoped it was a sign of good news.  She carefully backed out of the room, sending up a silent prayer for his recovery.

 

********

 

Johnny awakened around 6 am, a crick in his back along with a full bladder pulling him from slumber.  Despite resting relatively well, he was in a sour mood, which deepened when he looked around his hospital room. I want to go home.  He pushed back his sheets, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  Johnny searched the floor for his slippers, finally able to maneuver his foot under the bed to recover them.  He knew he should call for a nurse, but he really didn’t want be supervised.  Bathroom company irked him, and  he was embarrassed by the assistance.  Especially if the attendant was a nurse he knew, which was just about all of them. 
 

He stood slowly, his eyes closing momentarily as he straightened, waiting for the swirl of lightheadedness to dissipate. Once stable, he shuffled to the bathroom.  He emerged minutes later, exhausted from the effort, and feeling rather out of breath.  He settled back in bed, and pulled up the covers just as the nurse entered his room. 
 

“John, you’re awake.  How did you sleep?”
 

Johnny smiled up at Corrine.  She was an older married nurse who used to work in the ER.
 

“As well as you can here.”
 

She tipped her head, a slight frown crossing her lips.  “Ready for the restroom, or would you like a urinal?”
 

It didn’t matter how many times someone asked him that, he couldn’t help but blush.
 

“Nah, I’m okay, Corrine.” 
 

There was a long pause, and John knew he was in hot water.  “You don’t need to,  or you already went…..unsupervised.”
 

Johnny’s eyes were wide, “Ah, it was kind of automatic to just get up.”
 

“You didn’t have any trouble?  No falls?”
 

“Nope.”
 

“Okay.  Go solo again and I’ll unplug your TV.”  She looked stern, but couldn’t keep up the charade, and smiled at the paramedic.  “You know better, Johnny,” she gently admonished.  “Please wait next time.  I know you hate having assistance, but you don’t need unnecessary setbacks, okay?”
 

“Sorry, Corrine.”
 

“No worries, John.  I just want you to get better without complications.  Speaking of which, how are you feeling today?  Any pain?  Anything bothering you?”
 

“I’m pretty tired, but overall okay.  Kind of hungry.”
 

Corrine smiled. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get a tray for you in a few minutes.”
 

The nurse pulled the blood pressure cuff from the cabinet and placed it on the bed.  She took his pulse and respirations, and then his blood pressure.  
 

“How are they?”
 

“Pressure’s a little low, but nothing terrible. We need to get some more fluid into you.  You up for some breakfast?”
 

“Sure, something light is fine.”
 

“Coffee?”
 

“Really?  Yeah!”
 

She smiled.  “Only a little, but I think we can swing it.”
 

The door opened suddenly and Dr. Chase entered.  “John, good morning.”
 

“Morning, Doc.”
 

Lillian looked to the nurse.  “Any issues overnight?” 
 

“None.”  She looked over at John and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything further.  Corinne knew about the Doctor’s admonishment of the medic previously. 
 

“Good.”
 

“John, how are you feeling this morning?”
 

“Pretty good. Less tired.  Hungry.”
 

“That’s good to hear.”  Lillian looked over the notes in the chart, and glanced up at her patient.  “You haven’t been eating very well.  You’ve lost weight.”
 

“Not much.”
 

“You don’t have much to spare, John.”
 

Johnny’s irritation wasn’t difficult to read, but he remained silent. 
 

Lillian looked up from the chart, surprised by his sour expression.
 

“What’s wrong?”
 

“Nothing.”
 

She studied him closely for a long moment, then looked back at the chart.  “Corrine, it looks like John isn’t getting enough calories.  I’d like you to offer him a supplement three times a day.  I don’t want him to lose any more weight.”
 

Lillian recognized John’s displeasure. 
 

“What’s bothering you, John?  And don’t tell me ‘nothing’.”
 

“I think, since I’m sitting right here, you might consider asking for my input.”
 

“Alright, what is keeping you from eating?”
 

“Have you ever been an inpatient here?”
 

“No.”
 

“There’s no rest.  People bug you all the time.  Food’s terrible. Most dogs eat better than this.  Much better.”  
 

“Do you think you can handle more than a bland diet?  You had a lot of nausea recently. I don’t want the vomiting to start up again.”
 

Why does this woman always have to remind you of every little thing. While he liked the physician, John was clearly unhappy with her .  
 

“I think it will be okay.   And I want coffee too.”
 

Lillian studied him for a moment thoughtfully.  “Okay, coffee it is.  I trust you will go slow and avoid what bothers your stomach.”
 

Johnny nodded, his expression brightening.  “Thanks, Doc.”
 

“Nurse, has he been able to ambulate with you to the restroom?”
 

Johnny’s eyes widened and shot to meet Corrine’s, worried she would give him away. 
 

“Ah, yes, he is doing better, with less assistance.  I think its a good time to start some physical therapy.”
 

Johnny let out a sigh of relief, and offered Corrine a smile of thanks.  
 

Lillian looked from the Paramedic to the Nurse and back again, wondering if there was something she missed.  But since John looked well and rather happy for once, she let it slide, knowing if there was something important, Corrine would inform her. 
 

“Alright John, we’ll have PT do an evaluation, and start getting you up.  You will have to move slow, as your hematocrit is still low, but has significantly improved.  It’s  only 36, versus 46 at your last physical.   You’ll get winded easily, tire quickly, and will have lightheadedness with exertion.  Understand the fact and accept it.  Believe it or not, your blood level is remarkably better than when you arrived.  Expect the symptoms, and listen to them.  We don’t want you to have a serious set back because you are trying to do too much too soon and suffer a fall.  Understood?”
 

Johnny nodded, “I understand, Doc.”
 

“Very good. I’ll place the order, and you’ll likely see someone for a physical therapy evaluation later today.   Again, remember your limits.  You’ll progress more quickly and safely if you do.”
 

“I will, thanks, Doc.”
 

“Your white count has been falling steadily.  I expect it will continue to decrease, barring any adverse issues, such as an infection.  We’ll recheck it in the morning along with your hemoglobin and hematocrit.”
 

Lillian nodded to confirm the order with the nurse, signed her note, and walked to the door.  She pulled it partly open, and paused, turning back to John, a sly smile lighting her typically serious expression. 
 

“And John,  be careful walking around by yourself.”  Her brow raised,  “Got it?”
 

Johnny blushed, surprised she hadn’t been fooled by the ruse.  
 

“Ahh, yeah,” he replied, allowing a quiet snicker to escape.  “I will.”

 

******

 

The next day Johnny couldn’t help but expand his small slice of new found freedom.  Pulling on his robe, he made his way to the bathroom to clean up…without a nurse.  He found the specter of another nurse attending to his daily morning routine horrifying.    He felt a hundred times more human after brushing his teeth and washing up.  He rummaged through his drawer and found a fresh pair of pajamas and made his way back to bed.   Exhausted by the effort,  Johnny laid back on the bed, pulled up the covers, and fell asleep within minutes. 
 

Dixie stepped in about an hour later to find Johnny fast asleep.  She stood quietly by his bed, assessing his comfort with a practiced eye.  Other than a brief wince and catch in his breath when he shifted in sleep, his rest was relatively quiet.  Dixie smiled, smoothing the wrinkles of his blankets.  She placed her hand on his forehead, and her smile disappeared.  She pulled the chart from the end of the bed.  Her brow furrowed with concern.  100.6.  Dixie studied the prior entries closely.  99.0, 99.5, 100.2.  She paged through the chart looking for a notation that the nurse had notified the physician.  She frowned at the lack of documentation.   Her irritation quickly turned to concern, and she pulled out a stethoscope  and listened to his chest.  
 

Dixie walked to the nurse’s station, the sharp click of her shoes alerting the nurses to her presence.  Her expression was stormy, and her voice honed down to a sharp edge when she finally spoke.
 

“Who is taking care of John Gage?”
 

“John Gage, the Firefighter?” one of the nurses asked. 
 

“Yes.”
 

“I am, Miss McCall,”  a slight nurse said, stepping forward.
 

“Kelly, when was the last time you checked John’s temp?”
 

“I checked it about thirty minutes ago.”
 

“What was the result?”
 

“About 100.”
 

“You documented 100.2.  Did you notice anything about the trend of the temperatures?”
 

Kelly shifted uncomfortably. 
 

“I know you didn’t.  But what you didn’t bother to notice, is that the last four entries have been trending upward.  Did you call Dr. Brackett or Dr. Early?”
 

Kelly’s eyes were wide.  “Ah, no.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“I thought it was okay.”
 

“Did you listen to his lungs, or ask him how he was feeling?”
 

“No, and I didn’t ask because he was sleeping.”
 

“He hasn’t eaten since last night.”
 

“Um, yes ma’am.  He said he wasn’t hungry, and then he was sleeping at lunch and dinner, so I thought I’d let him rest.”
 

Dixie’s frown deepened.  She shook her head.  “Call Dr. Brackett immediately. Report the upward trend of his temperatures and lack of appetite.  Let him know I’m going to get new vitals and listen to Johnny’s lungs.  Tell him I’d like John to be reassessed.  I’m afraid he might be developing an infection.”
 

Dixie watched the nurse scurry away, and couldn’t help but frown at her lack of attention.  It was inexcusable in caring for any patient, but somehow, having it occur to Johnny, was exceptionally upsetting. 
 

Dixie pressed her stethoscope to his chest, listening carefully to the regular lub-dub of his heart.  Satisfied by its steady thrum, she concentrated on listening to his lungs.  Her lips drew tight in concentration, and then fell into a frown when she heard a few soft crackles in his left lower lobe. 
 

Minutes later Dr. Brackett arrived, and carefully listened to Johnny’s lungs.  Johnny was awake now, roused by the flurry of activity around him.  “Johnny, take a deep breath, and cough.  Then breath normally and I will listen to your lungs.”  
 

Johnny complied, breathing deeply on Brackett’s request. 
 

Brackett pulled off his stethoscope, and studied Johnny’s chart.
 

“Doc, I’m all right.  Can’t a guy get any sleep around here?”
 

“John, have you been experiencing any shortness of breath or coughing?  Any trouble breathing when you’re lying flat?”
 

“No, Doc, honest.  I’m doing okay.”
 

Brackett studied the medic for a long moment.   “You haven’t been eating your meals.”
 

Johnny’s expression shifted to one of chagrin.  “Well, ah…”  Johnny looked up with a guilty expression.   “I kinda have, just not what was served to me.”
 

“John Gage!”  Dixie called out, her sharp tone obscuring her relief. “Have those firemen friends of yours been sneaking in food?”
 

“Ah, well, yah.  You know how bad this stuff is in here.”
 

Dixie couldn’t hide her relief.  “You’re in big trouble mister.”
 

Johnny smirked, seeing her scowl even out to a barely hidden smile. 
 

 “Did you have anything to drink before your temperature was taken?”  
 

“I don’t even remember having my temperature taken.”
 

Dixie’s gaze flew to the nurse. “Kelly?”
 

“Ah yes, Miss McCall.”
 

“Take John’s temperature right now.”
 

“Yes, Miss McCall.”   Kelly went to the drawer, took out a new thermometer, and placed it under John’s tongue.
 

Johnny sat quietly for two minutes, and finally Dixie removed the thermometer and held it up to read it.  She frowned, and nodded once.
 

“Is it okay, Dix?”  Johnny asked, worried by her unhappy expression.
 

“It’s 99.0.  Near perfect.”  She glanced at Johnny. “You settle in.  I’m sorry I woke you up.  Rest, and I’ll even bring you a little coffee later.”
 

Johnny looked from Dixie to the nurse, wondering  what was going on.  He knew better than to ask.  He settled back on his pillows.  “That would be great, Dix.  Thanks, I’d appreciate it, if you have the time.”
 

She placed her hand over his lightly, “It’s never a problem, Johnny.”
 

He graced her with a smile.  John blinked heavily, and with a sigh, his eyes fluttered closed. 

 

Dixie watched him for a long moment, before turning away.  She looked up a Brackett, who had just completed his notes in John’s chart.   She silently signaled the other nurse to leave, a tight frown marring her normally smooth expression.  

 

 

*******

 

The next morning Dixie stood with Lillian at the nurse’s station outside of John’s room, filling her in on his progress with John’s nurse.   Lillian listened carefully, concentrating on the details without interrupting.   She scanned his chart.
 

“He’s not eating well.”
 

“Actually he is.  The other firefighters have been supplementing his diet.  I weighted him this morning to be sure.  He’s only lost 2 pounds since he was admitted.  Considering his condition for the first few days, I thought it was reasonable.  He’s eating well now.”
 

Lillian rolled her eyes.  “Is he always bending the rules here?”
 

Dixie laughed. “Well, that’s kind of a way of saying it.  Yes.”
 

Lillian shook her head, but Dixie could see her smile as she reviewed the rest of the notes. 
 

“Has he been out of bed yet?  I think it’s time for therapy to get in on the fun.”
 

“He’s taken brief trips to the bathroom with a nurse.  He’s none-too steady right now.”
 

“Okay, lets get a PT consult today if we can.  He needs to start moving.  What’s his white blood count from this morning?”
 

“Twelve-point-two. Still trending downward. Platelets normal.  H/H is still low, but recovering.”  She replied. 
 

“Okay good.  Definitely get  him up.  He’s going to get up himself anyway if I don’t, so I’d rather he have PT early and get worn out, than fall on his face trying to do it himself.”
 

Dixie tried to hide a smirk. “Didn’t take you long to get know him.”
 

Lillian looked up, sharing Dixie’s smile.  “My brother-in-law is a firefighter.  He’s a little more malleable, but Paramedics, they think they’re on a higher plane of ‘super-hero’ than regular firemen.”
 

Dixie laughed out loud.  “You’ve got him pegged right.”
 

“I’m sorry, Dix.  I really shouldn’t have verbalized that thought out loud, but I’ve been around a lot of firemen.  And paramedics are just a more intense group, with the ego to match.  John seems to fit that characterization perfectly.”
 

“He does, but I have to say, he’s one paramedic that has actually lived up to it, more than once.”
 

Lillian paused, when Dixie’s expression darkened.  “My guess is, it hasn’t always turned out well for him?”
 

“No, no it hasn’t.”
 

Lillian nodded slowly.  “Well, I think he’ll get out of this just fine.”
 

Dixie sighed.  “I’m glad. He’s a great paramedic, and a really good guy.”
 

“I’ve gathered that, even though I haven’t known him very long.”  Lillian signed her name at the bottom of the chart, closed the file, and handed it back to Dixie. “The nurses know to call me if anything changes.  Your paramedic is in good hands.  I don’t think he’ll be stuck here much longer.”
 

“Thanks again.”
 

“You bet.”
 

Dixie watched the Doctor briskly walk away.  She was relieved for Johnny, and she tentatively felt a heavy weight lifted off her heart with the good news.    She turned and walked toward Johnny’s room, and pulling the door open, she stopped, a frown immediately forming on her lips.  
 

“John Gage, that better not be you wandering around this room packing your bag.  You might be better, but you’re not going anywhere yet, mister…..”
 

Johnny looked up, a sly boyish grin lighting his face.  Dixie chuckled softly, averting her face to hide her amusement.  She tapped her foot, and set her hands on her hips.   Johnny gave up on the smile, and headed back to bed. 
 

Dixie waited for him to settle, then smoothed his covers.  She leaned over, her eyes narrow.  “In case you don’t remember, this is my hospital, and I’m the boss.  Stay. In. Bed.”
 

Johnny’s eyes were innocently wide, in a weak attempt to dispel her ire.  Dixie couldn’t help the break in her stern expression.  
 

His smile broke open in response.  “Awwww Dix…..”

 

 

 

 

 

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