All things “Emergency” belong to Mark VII Productions and Universal Studios

*’The Thousandth Man’ poem written by Rudyard Kipling

 

**Boeringer’s Defect is purely fictional.

 

 

The Thousandth Man

by Ocean

 

Story concept and written contributions by The Foley Queen

Other written contributions by Summer Sky

 

  

PROLOGUE

 

 

Joaquim steered his fishing boat back toward port, his heart heavy. Once again, he'd promised his crew a large catch but had come up empty. The men stayed below deck, shunning their captain. "It's a good thing mutiny is a thing of the past,” Joaquim mused blackly as he guided the craft through the choppy waters. But Joaquim Morales was a patient man, and a true optimist; you had to be optimistic when it came to commercial fishing. Already, he was planning the next trip out. Maybe farther north next time.

 

As his mind filled with possibilities, he barely noticed the dark shadow that loomed just off starboard until the bigger ship's wake nearly capsized the forty-one foot ' 71 Commercial Novi. Snapping out of his reverie, he tightened his grip on the wheel and turned into the wave, preventing another near-disaster.

 

Just as quickly as it had come, the shape was gone. Joaquim scanned the dark horizon, dimly illuminated by the moon, but saw nothing...heard nothing.

 

"What the hell was that?"

 

 

PART 1

 

 

Roy DeSoto awoke to the sounds of his two children arguing over the bathroom. That was nothing new. Although the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee tempted him from his bed, Roy pulled a hand out from beneath the warm blankets and yanked the pillow down over his head, hoping to let Jo handle the confrontation and get a few more moments of peace.

 

Laying there listening to the now muffled sounds of his kids' bickering, Roy’s thoughts wandered to the previous evening he'd spent with his wife. The passion was still there even after all these years. Roy had often heard that things cool down as the years go by, but it hadn’t happened to them; he wasn't about to question such a blessing. It wasn't until sometime in the wee hours of the morning that they had finally fallen asleep. The warm memory of their passion made him smile. Yet now he was paying the price for sacrificing his sleep.

 

As Roy spent the last few quiet moments in bed, he contemplated his life. It was enviable; he owned his own home, had a beautiful wife, and two great kids. On top of all that, he had a successful career as a firefighter/paramedic, which he loved, along with a partner who had grown to be his best friend. Who you worked with could make or break a job; he’d been lucky. He and Johnny had established a friendship that was more like family; Johnny had become an uncle to Roy’s children, and a brother to his wife. Roy didn’t think he could be any happier, or luckier. With a stretch and a sigh of contentment, Roy smiled and started to drift back off to sleep.

 

"Daddy!" Jenny cried, bursting into the room.

 

Roy started, almost falling out of bed. "Wha...."

 

"Daddy! Chris stole my hairbrush!" the little girl sobbed loudly.

 

"I did not!" yelled Chris.

 

"Did too!"

 

"All right, all right. Quiet down you two," Roy said as he sat up and tossed the pillow aside, then turning to the doorway where his son stood, asked, "Chris, did you steal your sister's hairbrush?"

 

"No!"

 

"Big fat liar!" 

 

"I said that's enough! Jenny; you wait your turn. And no more name calling," Roy firmly stated.

 

"I'm sorry, Daddy. But he stole my hairbrush!" Tears were starting to pool in her eyes.

 

"I didn't steal it, I'm just using it. If you didn't throw mine in the toilet, I wouldn't have to," Chris stated matter-of-factly.

 

"I did not throw your dumb ole hairbrush in the toilet! It just fell in. It was an accident. You shouldn't have left it where it could fall in!"

 

Roy tried to suppress a smile as he thought, wouldn't it be great if everyone's problems were only as serious as a hairbrush falling in the toilet? With that, he escorted his kids into the bathroom to retrieve the lost hairbrush. 

 

 

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

 

 

John Gage leaned against the barn door and smiled. Letting his gaze sweep the panorama of rolling green hills with misty purple peaks in the distance, he felt a contentment that he'd long thought beyond his reach.

 

The recent sale of two yearlings, both colts, had changed his ranch into a profit-making business, rather than an expensive hobby. He finally had a working horse ranch.

 

Now, the spring heralded the coming of new foals, as two of his mares were ready to drop any day now. The herd of six, diminished by the sale of the yearlings, were respected in the horse community as producers of fine, healthy American Paints with sweet temperaments, excellent conformation, and most importantly, champion bloodlines. As a breeder, Johnny knew these qualities were very important if he was going to make any profits. He also made sure to register each one of his horses with APHA, the American Paint Horse Association, therefore insuring that he would get no less than top dollar for them when the time came to sell. John had many plans for over the course of the next few years, as he would be acquiring two more broodmares from his cousin's herd sometime in early September. That would give him enough time to build the bigger barn he had drawn a few nights ago.

 

Far from being an architect, John was nevertheless adept with the pen and was able to draw the new addition to the barn that he had been envisioning for so long now, along with the plans to enlarge the tack room. Finally finishing his schematic the other night, and going over everything with a fine-toothed comb, he was satisfied. All he needed to do now was to get it approved and obtain a building permit so he could start work.

 

Opening the large door, he walked between the rows of stalls and opened the rear doors. He always talked to his horses as he turned each one out to the pasture behind the barn. Chuckling to himself as he called each horse by name when they passed, he thought, I sound like Cap calling role at the station.

 

“Okay, Larry...get out there. Curly...you too. Hey, Moe! Keep these stooges in line for me today, okay?” He stepped back a little as Moe's hoof came a little too close. “Hmm! Wise guy, eh?” He continued opening the six stalls.

 

“Good morning, ladies! Gracie Lee, looking good...Miss Magillicutty, you too.” He stopped as his last mare failed to come out. “Marie? Come on, girl...they're waiting for you.” The horse wouldn’t budge.

 

A flash of yellow on the floor caught John's eye, and he looked closer at the small mound of clean hay in the corner closest to the stall's door. “Aw, Bugs...not here, you wascally cat!” He bent and picked up the three tiny kittens that nuzzled close to the huge yellow cat that looked innocently up at the tall human. “Don't you know better than to bring your babies in here?” He held the kittens up to his face for a closer look, marveling at the tiny furballs. “Your momma's lucky Marie's big feet didn't squash you.” He transferred the mewling lot to an empty area under his workbench where he'd kicked some clean straw in a small pile. “Bugs Bunny, keep your Looney Tunes here, not in the stalls.” The momma cat quickly curled herself around the kittens, settling in as if that had been the plan all along.

 

I'd better get Bugs spayed before she acquires another brood! These guys are getting expensive! The mother cat had only recently wandered into his barn where he found her one day taking up residence. The day after, he discovered her three kittens curled up next to her. Six weeks later, and after some costly vet bills, they were healthy and as ornery as most kittens.

 

John returned to his last mare, who stood patiently by while the transfer took place. He placed his arms around her broad, black neck and gently hugged the horse. “You truly are Absolutely Sweet Marie for not stepping on those cats.” He released his hold as the tall horse gently nickered, as if she understood. “Go on outside and play. I'll see you guys tomorrow morning.”

 

With the horses out, John quickly mucked the stalls, replaced the hay, and cleaned the water buckets so his neighbor, Bob McMurty, could simply fill them when he came tonight to bed down the herd. With his barn chores done, John headed back to the house to feed the three dogs that waited patiently at the back door.

 

“Okay, guys...your turn.” John filled three bowls of fresh water, sitting them on the large deck so the dogs could access food and water during the day.

 

“Hey, take it easy, Denali!" he groused, as the Malamute nearly knocked him over in his rush to get to the biggest bowl. The blonde lab, Jed, gave John a look of resigned suffering that reminded John of some of the looks Roy tossed his way every shift...for some reason. The female dog, a border collie John named Glue because of the way she stayed so close to him everywhere except the barn, started eating from her favorite pink bowl, ignoring the rough males that made up her family.

 

“You guys watch the place while I'm gone.” John knew the request was unnecessary, since the dogs were exquisitely vigilant by habit, but it was John's routine to talk to each of his animals as if they understood everything he said. It was a habit he'd been teased about by his shift mates when they visited the ranch, but John believed that animals comprehended a lot more than they got credit for.

 

John thought again about the new barn he wanted to build. Yep, with all these animals, I'll have it filled as soon as it's built.

 

As good as his ranch was doing, John's personal life was even better. His current girlfriend, Michaela, would be moving in with him next week when her apartment lease was up. They weren't talking marriage yet, but John had the feeling that she was 'the one'. They had met a few months ago when yet another on-the-job injury had landed John in Rampart's OR, and Mick, as she preferred to be called, had been the anesthesiology resident during his surgery. Even though the first time he'd laid eyes on her he'd promptly thrown up on her, the two had an instant attraction that had only intensified with time.

 

Johnny had to admit, Mick was probably the most attractive woman he'd ever dated. Her mother had been Brazilian and her father had been a Brazilian-Italian mix. At five-ten, she stood only three inches shorter than John, and her skin tone was slightly darker than his. Long and lithe, she had the kind of build that turned men's heads as she passed. Her hair was as black as John's, and fell in soft waves almost to her waist. After her parents had been killed in an airplane crash when Mick was twelve, she'd emigrated from Rio de Janeiro to live in Florida with her maternal aunt and uncle. Her uncle, a prominent surgeon in Miami, had encouraged Mick's interest in medicine and had arranged her internship at UCLA. When it came time to begin her residency, Mick had chosen Rampart on her uncle’s advice, a close friend of Dr. Brackett.

 

Johnny was thankful for Dr. Brackett, for he might have never met Michaela if it weren't for him. A contented smile grew across his face as the sweet memory of the previous night flowed back into his mind.

 

It had started off quietly. Michaela had come to the ranch after sleeping off her previous shift's fatigue, and they had spent the afternoon riding in the nearby hills. Neither one felt like cooking, so they decided on Chinese takeout. It was so relaxing, eating on the deck and watching the sun slowly set over the mountains. Michaela giggled at Glue's antics; the animals were trained not to beg for food, but Glue kept popping her head around the corner and looking to see if any leftovers were destined for her.

 

They had just finished dinner, and John was drying the dishes. Michaela was bent at the waist, busily looking through John's refrigerator. “Don't you have anything sweet in here?”

 

Without turning around, Johnny answered, “I dunno. Don't tell me you're still hungry.” and continued to put the glasses and plates back into their cabinets.

 

“I'm hormonal. I need sugar.”

 

Turning, John started to say something smart, but his mouth opened and closed without a word. A devilish grin danced across his face as he stealthily moved toward the opportunity that had presented itself.

 

“How old is this thing of chocolate sauce?” Michaela moved lower to reach the container that was half-hidden in the chilly recesses of John's refrigerator. “You think it's still good?” She started in surprise when two hands began caressing her backside. “Johnny…” Her eyes widened as she felt those hands slide down to her thighs, then back up under her skirt. Michaela felt a definite draft as her skirt failed to return to its job of covering what God gave her. “John-ny....”

 

“Ssh.” John's fingers caught the edge of her lacy panties and gently tugged the fabric down. “Don't mind me. Hand over the chocolate and keep looking. I think there's a can of RediWhip in there too.”

 

“What are you...oh!” Michaela's voice caught in her throat as she felt something cold drizzle over her left rear.

 

John sighed. “Oops. Spilled the chocolate. Guess I'll have to clean that up.” He lowered his head.

 

Eventually, Mick found the whipping cream, and after that the kitchen really started to heat up, and not from the appliances. It had been a good excuse to take a shower together later, what with both of them being covered in ice cream toppings, where they’d spent the next hour until the hot water ran out. Even cleaning up the kitchen floor afterwards was fun, since they’d done it together.

 

Johnny felt himself growing warm and slightly aroused at the memory of it. He felt so incredibly lucky! He had never been involved with such a passionate woman, so willing to give of herself and to please. Everything about her was intense, especially the sex. She was beautiful, and intelligent to boot. She didn't go about anything half-way; it was full-force, all the way.

 

Michaela was also one of the most volatile women John had ever been involved with. Like John, she possessed a sense of fun and adventure, and her sense of humor was as quirky as his own. However, she also possessed a temper that could only be described as fiery. Even though John loved the intense passion that followed their minor arguments, the sweet memory of last night's less frenzied lovemaking caused his smile to grow even wider.

 

The feeling of his hand being licked brought Johnny out of his reverie. He looked down at Glue, who, after finishing her chow, was ready for a little attention. Reaching down, he scratched the soft black fur on top of her head. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced as he noticed the time – enough daydreaming. He was rarely late for a shift, but he didn't want to risk Cap's ire. Nothing was going to ruin this perfect day if he could help it.

 

Finished with the chores of caring for his animals, he headed to the shower. Bob would bring the herd in and bed them down for the night until John returned in the morning to let them back out again. The arrangement had been beneficial for both men, trading off duties when their regular jobs took them away from their respective ranches. 

 

John dressed quickly and quietly, pausing on his way out to lean over the sleeping figure that still occupied his large bed. Gently moving a mass of black curls aside, he kissed the exposed skin and whispered, “It's seven-thirty. You wanted me to wake you up before I left.”

 

Long arms reached up and drew him closer. “Hmm...I love this kind of alarm clock.” Mick's sultry voice made John regret having to leave.

 

“I gotta go. Call me later?”

 

Mick sighed. “Okay. I'll be boxing up stuff at the apartment until around two or three, so I'll call when I get back here.” She reluctantly released her hold on John and rubbed her eyes. “God, I could sleep for twelve hours more.” She rolled onto her stomach and snuggled deeper into her pillow.

 

Playfully swatting the rump she presented, John flicked back the comforter as Mick groaned. “Uh, uh. None of that. You have to get your stuff ready if the guys are gonna help me move while you're at work. You don't want them boxing up your personal stuff.”

 

Mick grimaced at the thought. “They'd probably steal all my sex toys.”

 

John laughed. “Get up. I'm outta here.” Seeing Mick actually sit up, he briefly kissed her and left as she called out.

 

“Be careful out there, okay?”

 

“Always!” John bounced down the porch steps and slid into the Rover. Glancing backward, he gave a last look at his beloved ranch as he started the engine and headed into Los Angeles. Sliding a tape into the deck, he started humming along to the Eagles' “Peaceful Easy Feeling”. Yep, this was going to be a perfect day.

 

 

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

 

 

Roy stood in the family room entryway for a moment, enjoying a warm muffin that his wife had just pulled out of the oven, watching as his son ran back and forth, flinging the throw pillows on the couch aside, and looking under the coffee table and furniture; it was obvious that Chris was frantically looking for something. Roy had to hide the smile that threatened; he knew exactly what it was that Chris was looking for. Roy had picked up the ‘lost’ homework from the steps where Chris had carelessly tossed it in his hurry to beat his sister downstairs.

 

“Somebody lookin' for this?” Roy asked as he entered the room, holding up Chris's math homework.

 

In one swift motion, Chris snatched up the notebook with a quick, “Thanks, Dad!” he grabbed his jacket with the other hand, and he was out the door. Jenny was already waiting for him out on the porch, and together they left for the school bus.

 

Shaking his head at his son, Roy turned and took the container of muffins his wife was holding out for him. She often made extras so that the guys at work could enjoy them. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then left the house for work with a smile on his face.

 

 

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

 

 

John pulled into the parking lot of the station and quickly secured the Rover. Dashing into the open rear doors of the bay, he skidded across the slick floor and hit the locker room door with a bang.

 

Roy's head shot up at the clatter, then dropped to hide a grin at his partner's antics. “Sliding back into your old bad habits, Junior?” He kept his head down as he appeared to be focused on tying his shoes.

 

John shrugged out of his shirt, hissing when he hit an elbow on the locker door. “Funny, Roy. I'm not late...yet.”

 

Roy stayed to talk as John shimmied out of his jeans. “Are we still on for the big move Friday?”

 

John gave him a blank stare for a couple of beats before it dawned on him what Roy was talking about. He grinned dumbly. “Yeah. We'll meet at the ranch for breakfast before we head over to her apartment.”

 

“Feeding us first? I guess we're in for a real workout, huh?” Roy leaned on his locker. His face grew more thoughtful. “You sure about this, Johnny? I mean, about her moving in?”

 

John didn't answer at first, but quietly closed his locker and sat on the bench to put on his shoes. When he did answer, his face was serious. “Yeah, I'm sure. I really want her there with me.”

 

Roy sat beside his friend. “You've never lived with a girlfriend before, have you?”

 

“No,” John admitted with a sigh. “But, Roy...she's more than just a girlfriend. She's different.”

 

“Different how?”

 

John took a moment to put his thoughts in some kind of order. “She's...real. She's independent, she's smart…” She's so beautiful it hurts. John swallowed. “But inside...that's what's really beautiful, Roy, and she loves me. She's a doc; she could have any rich guy she wanted, but she wants me,” John’s hand thumped his chest for emphasis. “I can't stop thinking about her, all the time.” He met Roy's widened eyes as he admitted, “She's under my skin, Roy. Even when we argue and she gets all hot and Brazilian on me...the next thing I know, we're all over each other.” John blushed a little. “The other night, she accused me of starting a fight just so we could have make-up sex.”

 

Roy raised one eyebrow. “What did you argue about?”

 

John looked sheepish. “Hunt's tomato sauce is better than Del Monte.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Hell if I know.” John grinned and stood to leave.

 

Roy laughed. “Junior, you are a piece of work.” He glanced at his watch. “Hey, we still have five minutes. Joanne made fresh muffins this morning; I brought 'em into work. Let's go have one and see if Chet left us some coffee.”

 

John gave Roy an incredulous look. “Roy! You left fresh muffins in there with Chet?! We'll be lucky to find a crumb!” Johnny took off for the door in a hurry, leaving Roy behind in a cloud of dust. Roy stared after his partner a second, then hastily took off after him.

 

Coming to a sudden stop at the dayroom's entrance, Johnny didn't act the least bit sorry when Roy plowed into him. Instead, he surveyed the carnage before him. “Are there any left?” His exasperation was easily picked up by the men who sat at the long table, happily consuming the baked goods and sipping coffee.

 

Chet, his mustache littered with crumbs, lifted his mug in a sort of salute to Roy. “Roy, thank Joanne for the muffins for me. They were fabulous!”

 

“You ate them all?” Johnny scanned the room for leftovers, but didn't see a single one.

 

“We helped.” Stoker didn't look up as he spoke, intent on pouring honey on what remained of his muffin.

 

Roy simply shook his head at Johnny's despair. Taking pity on his partner, he opened a seldom-used cabinet nearest the back door. Pulling out a Tupperware container, he handed it to John. “Here. I held back a few spares.”

 

John shot his shift mates a contemptuous glare. “Thank you, Roy. At least now I know who I can depend on around here.” Grabbing two muffins, he handed the container with the one remaining lonely muffin back to Roy, who looked down at it, then back up at Johnny forlornly.

 

Marco took a long sip of coffee before he spoke. “Johnny, you know I'll back you up in a fire any time, hold your rope while you go over the side of a downtown high-rise, even pull your unconscious body out of a collapsed building...again, but when it comes to home cookin', you're on your own, buddy.”

 

The general laughter at the truthfulness behind Marco's statement put an end to the topic, and Cap broke up the coffee klatch with the announcement for role call.

 

Johnny thrust the muffin container into Roy’s hands. “Hide this, and keep it safe so we can split it later,” Johnny instructed, and then ran toward the engine bay.

 

 

 

By early evening, the calls dwindled dramatically, leaving the men with little to do. The assignments had been finished, the engine and squad cleaned, hoses hung, and paperwork caught up. After supper, the men watched the evening news while Chet cleaned up the kitchen. The weather report got everyone's attention when the weatherman issued a spring storm warning; a cold front from Alaska was moving down and would bring heavy rain and high winds locally, with snow in the higher elevations.

 

“That's just great,” Mike groused. “I was supposed to go fishing tomorrow.”

 

Cap glared at the man sitting on the other end of the sofa. “Mike, don't use the 'f' word around here. Watch your language.”

 

John snickered at the exchange, then sobered. “My plans are gonna be messed up too. My vet was supposed to come out and give the horses their shots, but he won't get out in bad weather.”

 

“I thought vets were like postmen; you know, neither rain, nor snow...” Cap stood and stretched, and walked across the room to peer out of the window at the sky.

 

“Not for checkups. And not my vet; he's a couple of years past retirement and he hasn't picked a replacement yet.” John sighed and slumped further into his chair. “I'll just have to reschedule and find something else to do.”

 

“Aw, poor Johnny. You and Mick already at the point where you can't find anything to do on a rainy day?” Chet teased.

 

“No, for your information, she has to work tomorrow morning, and I won't see her again until the move.”

 

With a faint glint in his eye, Chet slid a chair over to sit next to John. “So, she's moving in permanently, huh? That's like getting married, you know.” He leaned closer and leered. “Set a date yet?”

 

John flicked his wrist as if swatting a fly, making Chet lean back. “Kelly, quit being a pest and go bother somebody else.” He looked at Roy, hoping for some sort of distraction from his tormentor, but his partner was hunkered down in the corner with Marco, the two of them seeming to be in deep conversation. Intrigued, John called out, “What are you two doing over there? Plotting to overthrow the government?"

 

Two heads popped up in surprise. “Huh?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Roy gestured with the small book he held. “Oh. Marco's helping me brush up on my Spanish.”

 

“Gonna make a run for the border?”

 

“No, the kids are starting to take classes in school, so I thought I'd be ready to help them with their homework. Had to brush up on my pronunciations.”

 

Cap decided to stop Chet's mission to aggravate the whole shift. “Chet, the wind's starting to pick up. Go make sure the trashcans are secure.”

 

“Aw, Cap...”

 

“Want it to be a permanent assignment?”

 

Chet jumped up. “No, sir.”

 

John waited until the source of his aggravation had left. “Thanks, Cap.”

 

“You're welcome, but it wasn't just for you....” The ringing phone interrupted further explanation. “I'll get it.”

 

Roy stood and looked toward the kitchen. “That's enough for tonight. I don't want to overload my circuits. Thanks, Marco. C’mon, I'll buy you a cup of coffee.’

 

“Hey, what about me?” John turned in his chair.

 

“Marco's teaching me Spanish; what do you have to trade?” Roy took two cups from the cabinet, pausing as the back door's handle rattled.

 

John got up and stood at the back door, but didn't open it. “Ha'andah!”

 

Roy looked over in confusion. “Say what?”

 

‘Phone's for you, John.” Cap laid the receiver down and returned to his spot on the sofa. “And let the twit in.”

 

John opened the back door for Chet. “Ha'andah, twit.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“It means, 'come in, twit'.” John turned and headed out. “I'll take it in the dorm, Cap.”

 

“You wanna take up conversational Apache too, Roy?” Marco took the cup Roy handed to him.

 

“Handatwit is an Apache word?” Chet stood, his hands on his hips; he wasn't sure, but he felt he'd been insulted, somehow.

 

“Partly.” Roy walked over to the phone. “Got it, Johnny?”

 

“Yeah!” John's voice yelled from the dorm. “Hi, Mick.” John heard the click that signaled the dayroom's extension being disconnected. Good ol' Roy; he wouldn't listen in like Chet would.

 

“I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?” Her voice sounded so good in his ear.

 

“No, not at all. I have time to talk, unless we get a run. Did you get everything boxed up?”

 

“Sure did. It's all ready to go, and I labeled each box either 'house' or 'barn' so it'd be easier.” Her light giggle slipped through the fingers she held over her mouth, her attempt to stifle the sound unsuccessful.

 

John grinned suspiciously. “Mick, what are you up to?”

 

“Oh, nothing. Just make sure they read the labels. I wouldn't want anything to get misplaced.”

 

“You're up to no good; I can tell.”

 

“You have a very suspicious mind, John Gage.”

 

“I thought you said I had a dirty mind.”

 

“That, too. You are…multidimensional.”

 

“I'm not so complex. I have few needs.”

 

Her voice dropped in pitch. “And what needs do you have tonight?”

 

John groaned softly. “I don't want to think about it. Not here, at least.”

 

“I could come by,” Michaela purred.

 

“Better not. I don’t think the Cap would take too kindly to finding us screwing in the dorm. Besides, the weather's supposed to get really bad tonight.”

 

“That reminds me; I was going to let you know about that. I'm going to stay at the apartment tonight, so if it's still bad in the morning, I won't have so far to drive.”

 

“Sounds like a good idea. Call me....” John stopped and listened as the tones sounded. “That's me. Call when you get to the apartment. Love you!” He didn't wait to hear her answer as he quickly hung up the phone and dashed for the squad.

 

It wasn't until they were half-way to the call, winding through the darkening streets, that it really hit him; he did love her. Not the superficial, transient emotion he had mistaken for love in the past, but a love that went straight to his soul. His gasp caught Roy's attention as they pulled up to the scene of the 'sick person' call.

 

“What's wrong?” Roy switched off the squad's engine and reached to open his door.

 

Recovering quickly, John waved him off. “It's nothing. Let's go.” Jumping out of the squad, he slammed the door and started pulling equipment from the compartments.

 

John's professional manner allayed Roy's unease, and they continued the call without interruption. An hour later, they were at Rampart, restocking the supplies they had used and chatting with Dixie at her desk.

 

“So, what did Dr. Early say was wrong with that lady we brought in?” Roy signed the forms Dix pushed across the counter.

 

“Well, we have a few more tests to run, but it looks like a tubal pregnancy. If the betaHCG is positive, she'll be going for an ultrasound to confirm it. If she goes to surgery, she'll lose that tube.” Dixie rested her gaze on Roy's partner, a knowing smirk on her face. “Johnny, what's up with you?”

 

John looked up from the box of supplies he was packing. The silly, distracted smile he'd been wearing vanished in a cloud of confusion. “Huh?”

 

“You're glowing.” Dixie's smirk widened to a grin. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the one who's pregnant.”

 

“It would explain the appetite.” Roy joined in on the opportunity to tease his partner. “But, since you've been that way since I've known you, well....the math just doesn't add up.”

 

Dumbfounded, John remained silent.

 

“Yeah, that would be a gestational period of, how long? Five years?” Dixie winked at Roy, thoroughly enjoying the banter.

 

“But for him to be pregnant....he'd have to be a hermaphrodite, right?” Roy glanced up and down the crowded hallway and spotted a group of nurses moving in their direction. With an evil gleam in his eye, Roy raised his voice slightly. “But, Dix, aren't hermaphrodites sterile?”

 

John looked at his two coworkers as if they had crabs coming out of their ears. “Wha...?! I am not a freakin' hermaphrodite!”

 

An eerie silence momentarily struck the hall as John's exclamation caught the attention of most of those within earshot. Dixie, her expression so innocent that Roy could have sworn a faint halo appeared over her head, simply reached out and patted John's cheek. “Of course you're not, Johnny.” She shot a look at the nurses, who stood by with their collective mouths open. “I think there are enough witnesses around here that can attest to that fact. Right?”

 

At least two of the nurses had the good grace to blush as they giggled and moved on, leaving John almost beside himself with righteous indignation.

 

“I don't know either one of you.” Without another word, he grabbed the box of supplies under one arm and turned on his heel. “I'll be in the squad,” he groused over his shoulder at Roy as he stormed off down the hall.

 

“Somehow I have a feeling he’s going to make us pay for that, Roy.” Dixie could hide her laughter no longer.

 

“I’m sure he’ll try…if he remembers to.” Roy composed himself and set off to follow his steaming partner.

 

Almost two hours passed before John would speak to Roy again; one heart-felt apology later, John shrugged off the whole thing.

 

Though he was unaware that Johnny had secretly nicknamed him ‘Reliable Roy’, the older man knew his partner’s sense of loyalty and forgiving nature were like the sun and the moon – constants in the universe.

 

It’s what Roy always counted on when Johnny was the brunt of the joke. Besides, it had been just so damn funny!

 

By eleven pm, most of the men had hunkered down in their bunks as the temperatures dropped. Outside, the storm was intensifying as rain pelted loudly on the roof. Roy took the opportunity to phone home and check on Jo and the kids. After some ten rings, Jo finally answered, slightly breathless.

 

“Is everything okay over there?” Roy inquired.

 

“Hi, honey. Everything’s fine. The kids were excited about the storm, and I just got them to go to bed. How was your day?” Her voice was warm and comforting.

 

Keep those home fires burning, babe. “Pretty ordinary, except….” Roy trailed off, wondering if he’d get a fussing-at by his wife for his sins that day.

 

“Except what?”

 

“Well, if you happen to hear any rumors about Johnny being a hermaphrodite, just ignore them.”

 

“Whaaaat? I think I’d better sit down for this one.” Joanne listened as Roy related all the juicy details. “Oh, Roy, that was wicked!” Jo couldn’t restrain her laughter.

 

“Yeah, he was pretty mad at first, but he’s over it now.”

 

“You are a silver-tongued devil, Mr. DeSoto. So, all is forgiven?” She couldn’t see Roy shrug.

 

“I suppose, mostly. Of course, if I was to bring him home for one of your Super Sausage and Pancakes breakfasts, it might put me over the top.”

 

There was silence on the other end for a moment.

 

“Uh, honey, that was a hint.”

 

“Um…could we do it another morning?” Jo sounded apprehensive to Roy’s ears.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Jo quickly assuaged. “It’s just…well, the kids are out of school tomorrow for Records Day, and they’re going over to the Petersons’ to play all day. I kinda wanted you all to myself for a while. And, I have something I want to talk with you about.”

 

Roy paused momentarily before responding. Her last sentence caused his heart to skip a beat, and for some reason, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Quickly discounting the uncomfortable feeling of foreboding, he said, “I’m sure he can come over another morning, Jo. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Any other morning would be fine, Roy.”

 

“Okay, we’ll plan on another time. What did you want to talk about?”

 

“It can wait. You’d better get some sleep, in case business picks up during the night.”

 

“Yeah. Well, I guess this is goodnight, then.”

 

Jo lowered her voice. “I wish you were here.”

 

“Me, too. Love you. Kiss the kids for me.”

 

“Already done. See you in the morning. Love you too.”

 

As a tickle of worry began in the back of his mind, Roy hung up the phone. What did Jo want to talk about, with the kids out of the house? A sudden thought came to him Oh, no. The pool! They had talked last summer about getting a pool by the time school was out this year, but that was before the transmission on the station wagon went out, and the washing machine had shuffled off to that Great Appliance Round-Up in the sky. Well, one look at their savings account balance would convince her that there wouldn't be a pool this summer - maybe next year. Convinced that he had things all figured out, Roy joined his shift mates in the dorm and turned in for the night.    

 

In his own bunk, Hank Stanley rolled over and closed his eyes; the last of his men was now present and accounted for. He mentally thwacked himself in the head for his habits, but he couldn’t help it. Having three teenage daughters to raise had ingrained this inability to sleep until he knew everyone in the house was where they were supposed to be. How it had carried over to his work ‘house’ he didn’t know, but it was his little secret and he’d never let them know. Outside the murmur of a steady rainstorm quickly lulled him to sleep.

 

A few bunks away, Marco fingered the last of his rosary beads; the ritual was one that he performed every night before going to sleep. The routine had been in place for as many years as he could remember, and it comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe. He had long ago decided not to question it, but to be grateful he had his faith to support him in trying times. How the others, with their nondescript notions of religion, could possibly do and face the things this job wrought was beyond his comprehension. Chet shared his Catholicism, but Marco didn’t feel a strong religious conviction there. Anyway, Chet was too much for one person to try and figure out, and Marco cleared his mind of these thoughts, waiting for sleep to come.

 

Mike Stoker was fast asleep and snoring softly, dreaming of sailboats and sunfish; funny….the sailboat was painted bright red, and it had all these dials and gauges along one side….and why was the Gorton’s Fisherman yelling orders at him?

 

John Gage’s mind was swirling like the wind and rain just outside of the few inches of brick that composed the wall beyond his head. The schematic for his new barn drew itself out in his mind, and he mentally calculated board lengths and ventilation patterns until his head began to ache.

 

And where had Michaela gotten the idea of adding llamas to his menagerie, he’d like to know. Llamas? What the heck do I know about llamas? Do you spell that with one L or two? Are there separate names for the sexes, as with stallions and mares? And, what is the proper plural for llamas? ‘Llamas’ ends with an ‘s’, so would it be ‘llami’, like with octopuses…um, octopi? Then, there was the Dali Llama. Dally Lama? Dolly Lama? Would Jennifer like a furry Dolly Llama that wets and cries?

 

Roy heard the soft, strangled ‘arrgh!’ from the bunk to his right, but decided not to ask.

 

Chet heard the sound as well, and sighed; if Gage didn’t fall asleep soon, The Phantom would be too tired to get up and pour the can of creamed corn in his Pigeon’s turnout boots. To pass the time, he thought of his date tomorrow night with Brenda, the woman he’d met at The Joker’s Palace last week. They’d inadvertently bumped into each other at the checkout counter, resulting in an accidental firing of her ‘spring-loaded snake in a can of mixed nuts’ gag she was waiting to purchase. Maybe, she would reveal her ‘Inner Phantom’ to him….

 

 

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

 

 

The LA River had no “average” flow, varying widely from a bare trickle in drought years to a raging torrent in years of heavy rain, such as this one. At peak flow, the river could carry 183,000 cubic feet of water per second out to the Pacific. Unfortunately, due to runoff from dense clusters of commercial, industrial, residential, and other urban activities, the river quality was impaired with pollution, trash, algae, oil, pesticides, and other volatile organisms. On this night the trapezoidal concrete trough was full of churning water, hiding the graffiti-sprayed walls and everything else that accumulated in its bottom.

 

Nick and Steve were two college students caught in that evening’s torrential down-pour. As they made their way through the dark back to campus, they walked as fast as they could along one of the jogging trails beside the L.A. River. The section Nick and Steve were near had a soft muddy bottom, with scattered islands of trees, brush, and reed.

 

“Dude, that was some party. Did ya see the size of the knockers on that tall redhead?!” Nick slurred, ignoring the rain that was pelting his face. The whipping wind mercilessly threw them off their already unsteady balance, occasionally forcing them off their path.

 

“Did I ever! Man, you'd have to be blind not to notice those!” The two college freshmen laughed as they walked, Nick occasionally bumping into him. “It's too bad you're not gonna remember 'em in the morning,” Steve pointed out, smiling.

 

“What are ya talkin' about? A 'course I'll 'member 'em in the mornin'!”

 

Steve laughed at his drunk friend. “No you won't. Between all that booze you drank, plus that joint, you couldn't even walk a straight line - let alone remember anything.”

 

“I'm not that drunk.” Nick stated. “And I can too walk a straight line.” Just as the words were out of his mouth, he once again bumped into Steve.

 

“Yeah. Sure ya can,” he replied sarcastically.

 

As they walked along, Nick saw the perfect opportunity to prove his point. He turned off the path, heading towards the river.

 

“Hey! Where're you goin', man?” Steve asked, but got no response. “Come on, we gotta get back to campus. Mr. Mandelle will have our asses if we're caught out after curfew - especially in your condition!”

 

“Chill, will ya? And now watch the master…I'll show ya I can walk a straight line,” Nick said as he climbed up onto the edge of the cement embankment, the L.A. River's raging water below him. Extending his arms out to his sides, he began walking toe-to-toe along the edge of the concrete like it was a tightrope.

 

“Nick, get down from there! I believe you, all right? Come on, stop goofing around!”

 

The gale grew stronger, driving the rain directly into their eyes, stinging them. Nick heard his friend's pleas, but at the moment they seemed unimportant. He had something to prove; he could do this - he knew he could. He wasn't prepared, however, when a strong gust of wind knocked him off balance. Flailing his arms, Nick tried to regain it, but couldn't, and fell into the cold, swift water below.

 

“Nick!” Steve ran over to the edge, frantically searching for his friend. “NICK!”

 

 

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

 

 

The sudden blare of the tones and flash of ceiling lights woke the crew of Station 51 with a burst of adrenaline.

 

Squinting their eyes against the brightness, they quickly pulled up their bunker pants while Cap acknowledged the call for a possible drowning in the L.A. River. Because of the cold and stormy weather, combined with the darkness of night, they all knew the chances of surviving the cold, polluted, raging water were slim. As the crew trotted out to their respective vehicles, each man was lost in his own thoughts.

 

Man, who in their right mind would be anywhere near that river on a night like this?! Johnny thought irritably while tightening his chinstrap.

 

Windshield wipers slapped furiously to keep up with the rain as the rigs quickly maneuvered their way to the scene. Flashing lights glared off empty rain-flooded streets, while the blaring sirens cut into the silence of the night.

 

“This is way out of our territory,” Johnny commented, squinting through the windshield.

 

“Yeah. Must be a busy night.”

 

Twelve minutes later, Johnny pointed out the windshield and to his right where a young man was urgently trying to wave them down. “Over there, Roy. Over there!”

 

“I see him.” Roy pulled the squad over to the curb, the engine following suit.

 

Seeing the young man on the other side of his window frantically gesturing to him, Johnny quickly opened his door and began to step out.

 

“Hurry up, mister!” The younger man yanked Johnny out of the squad so fast that the hapless paramedic slipped and landed on his rear end in the mud beside the running board.

 

“It's Nick! You have to help him. Come on!” Just as he was reaching down to grab onto Johnny again, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and he spun around.

 

“Now hold on, son. We're gonna help your friend, but we need you to calm down and tell us what happened, and show us where he is. Can you do that?” Cap's calm professionalism seemed to ease some of the boy's tension.

 

While Captain Stanley was busy trying to calm the young man down and get some answers, Roy reached out and helped his now grumpy partner get back on his feet. Together they listened to the college student as he stammered out an explanation to the Cap.

 

“Ah....yeah....well, we were at a party off campus and uh…Nick had too much to drink. He....um....he kinda smoked some pot too.”

 

Great. Drunk and stoned, Gage thought to himself. Guess that explains how he fell into the river.

 

“Anyway, we were just heading back to our dorms, walking along that jogging path over there, when Nick started goofing off near the edge of the embankment. He lost his balance and fell into the river! You gotta help him! He can't swim very well!”

 

At hearing this last bit of information, they knew that time was even more of the essence. It may even be too late.

 

“How long has he been in the water?” Cap asked hurriedly.

 

“Ah, about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

 

Hank glanced over to see if Roy and Johnny were listening. When they nodded, he asked, “What was Nick wearing and is he your age?”

 

“Um....he was wearin' blue jeans, a black shirt, and his jean jacket. He's eighteen.”

 

Damn. He's gonna be impossible to see in those dark clothes. “So, he fell in over there?” Cap gestured to where the young man described, and Roy and Johnny jogged over.

 

“Yeah, but the water carried him downstream quite a ways. Nick's over there now,” Steve pointed left, downstream. “I think he's caught onto a branch or something. I can't really tell for sure.”

 

After barking out more orders to his men, the captain led Steve over to the engine, wrapped a blanket around him, and had him sit inside the cab. Snatching up the mike, he requested two additional units be dispatched to their location, along with an ambulance. Hank gently squeezed the young man's arm and nodded with a tight smile as he replaced the mike.

 

A streak of lightning flashed overhead, followed by a loud boom. Hank grimaced as he realized the storm was taking a turn for the worse, which could make things much more dangerous for his men. Damn! Why couldn't this just hold off a little longer?

 

Keeping an eye on the young man he had just escorted to the engine, Hank silently calculated positions to set up a rescue effort downstream. The minute the two additional units arrived, he directed one crew to set up a tensioned rope system thirty yards downstream, and instructed four of the men from the second company to set up another rope system thirty yards past the first crew. He then sent the two remaining men from the second company upstream to act as safety spotters. Their job would be to warn of any debris that may be approaching the rescue scene. Anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the next, Hank watched as the men implemented his orders.

 

Wind-swept rain stung their faces as Roy and Johnny searched the area, making it very difficult to see even with their flashlights. Having called out the boy’s name numerous times, they were finally rewarded with the sound of someone yelling for help. A bright flash of lightning aided in locating the source.

 

“Well, his friend's right...it looks like he's hanging onto a branch,” Johnny commented, pointing. Squinting against the driving rain, he stood at the edge of the embankment and looked down at the concrete sloped wall before him. Johnny groaned inwardly as his flashlight revealed the added hazard created by a slick mossy surface. They needed to get down there fast, and this was going to make it more difficult. He looked over at his partner. “It's gonna be fun getting down that.”

 

“Yeah,” Roy concurred, thinking a moment. “We better hurry; he's probably hypothermic by now. There’s no telling how much longer he can hold on.”

 

“Right. I’ll get him. Think you can handle my line from up here?”

 

Roy turned sharply to face Johnny, his expression slightly caught off guard. “Uh…yeah, no problem.”

 

“Let’s get our gear.”

 

Two sets of boots slapped puddles as they ran toward the squad. Roy glanced over at Johnny with an arched brow. “Why you?”

 

Gage threw a look back at his partner. “Why not me?”

 

Roy could only shrug. He shouldn’t have been surprised; Johnny normally jumped into each rescue with abandon. This one wasn’t any different.

 

Johnny grinned briefly from one corner of his mouth. Tendrils of rain rolled off the rim of his helmet. “You know how much I enjoy midnight swims.”

 

“Yeah, right.” Roy smirked at him as they opened compartments. “Just don’t get any ideas about skinny dipping.”

 

Johnny mocked a disappointed look. “Kill joy.”

 

After retrieving their gear, the paramedics trotted back to the top of the embankment where their captain was waiting for them. Briefly they discussed their plan to get the boy.

 

A short distance from the edge of the embankment, Marco and Chet readied two lifelines and safety belts. One would be for Gage; the other for the boy. Each of them also readied themselves with their own safety belts in the case that they would need to assist in the rescue.

 

“Chet, I need you on my line,” Roy instructed as he handed the boy’s life-belt and line to Gage. 

 

“Okay; all set.” Cap nodded after Gage had his belt firmly in place, his calm veneer not quite covering his surge of unease as a burst of lightning momentarily blinded him.

 

Johnny took his line in a gloved hand and backed over the edge of the riverbank. As he began his descent, jagged bolts of lightning continually lit up the sky, followed by deafening reverberations that rattled the earth. Looking up at Roy, they traded grim looks of disbelief, then quickly, yet carefully, he continued his journey down the slick surface of the slanted wall.

 

Soon Gage’s feet came in contact with the water, and he backed into it.

 

Holy crap! It was frigid. Until then, his turnout coat had kept his body dry from the rain. Now the icy water raced under the coat and quickly surrounded his body, causing him to shudder.  

 

With a searchlight now shining brightly on the boy, he could see that he was about three quarters of the way across. He called out to him. “Nick! I want you to hold on real tight to that branch. I’ll be there in a few more seconds. Everything's gonna be all right. Hang on tight, okay?”

 

“P-please! You g-g-gotta h-hurry! I....I d-don't know how m-much l-l-longer....I can h-h-hold on!” he managed to stutter out just before he got hit with another face full of polluted water.

 

As Roy double checked Johnny’s line, he looked towards their victim, squinting from the rain and the glare of the searchlight against the night sky.

 

“Hey, Roy!” Gage called behind him, then hesitated a moment, never taking his eyes off the boy. “I coulda swore that branch just moved!”

 

Roy strained to make out the position of the branch within the raging water. The partners remained mute, knowing no words were needed. They both knew that if the branch broke loose it would become infinitely harder to rescue the boy. Roy fervently hoped they wouldn't need the men downstream.

  

Roy watched as Johnny precariously made his way out to the boy, noticing the pull of the current was creating havoc with his balance. “Careful!” Roy yelled in order to be heard over a loud clap of thunder and roaring water.

 

Doing his best to block out the stench and frigidness of the water, Gage glanced back at his worried partner, flashing him a crooked grin and a nod to allay his fears. As he turned back around, he hoped the outward bravado would ease some of his own anxiety.

 

Johnny waded out farther and farther, each step becoming more difficult; his legs were already beginning to feel leaden. With the water chest high, the intensity of the strong undertow pulled insistently on him, threatening to take him down. The farther he went, the more difficult it became to keep his balance, and he was grateful that both his partner and Chet were holding his line fast. I hope they can hang on; one slip and I'm fish food. That thought nearly caused him to laugh when it occurred to him that no fish could possibly live in this toxic excuse for a river.

 

Debris of all sorts sailed by as the water continued to rush out toward the ocean at an incredibly fast pace. Halfway out, as the water percolated against his chest, he heard a loud, metallic clanking sound. Quickly scanning his surroundings, Johnny pinpointed its location; there was a shopping cart partially sticking out of the water a short ways in front of him; a rusty paint can banged against it repeatedly until it finally swirled away and continued on downstream.

 

A large wad of soggy newspaper abruptly stopped its journey downstream when it encountered Johnny’s turnout sleeve. Disgusted, Gage quickly peeled the muck away, tossing back it into the water, then continued onward.

 

Unexpectedly his foot met something round and hard, and as it rolled underneath the sole of his boot, the current quickly took advantage, sweeping him off his feet and plunging him backwards into the icy water.

 

Roy’s yell was fruitless as he watched the scene unfold; Johnny was already under water.  His grip on the line tightened; the rope quivered as Gage struggled. He felt helpless. Seconds ticked by like minutes as he stood rooted in place searching the dark water, anxiously waiting for his partner to resurface.

 

Hank and Marco dashed to the edge of the cement embankment, frantically straining to see what had become of John after witnessing his abrupt disappearance. Enrapt, they perched themselves at attention, struggling to catch a glimpse of their comrade while Mike swept the searchlight back and forth across the area where Johnny had been just seconds ago. The rumble of the thunderstorm and the roar of the rushing water drowned out Roy's faint cry of “Johnny!”  

 

“Where the hell did he go? Where is he?!” Chet's anxious shout from behind Roy was punctuated by an ominous boom of thunder, sending a chill down the spine of each man.

 

The captain wasted no more time. He quickly lifted the HT to his mouth, ready to warn the two companies downstream, but before he was able to depress the button, he heard an excited, “I see him!” Stoker's alert triggered an automatic response, and Stanley lowered the HT, cautiously scanning the water. Relief flooded him when he finally spotted his youngest crewmember, his head bobbing like a buoy in the choppy water.

 

Johnny erupted from the current wide-eyed and gasping for air. He quickly turned his head so that the water assaulted the back of it, rather than slapping him square in the face. He struggled, holding his head above the turbid surface as best he could, trying to regain a foothold. He felt his line tighten with urgency, and knew the guys were still holding on.

 

The senior paramedic braced himself, wrestling with the rope as he held on tightly to his partner's lifeline. Johnny's full weight, combined with the rush of the current, created a strong pull on the line, and Roy's arms began to ache from the strain. He was glad Chet was behind him, also holding on.

 

Soaked to the bone and freezing cold, Johnny's nostrils burned from the stench of the dirty water, making his eyes water. He wanted to swipe at them, but didn't dare use his hands for anything other than righting himself and moving forward; the undertow was brutal. His fingers ached as the icy cold water did its best to render them useless.

 

Suddenly, Johnny heard the boy cry out and strained to see through the spray; the kid was barely hanging on. Pushing his own discomforts and problems to the back of his mind, a fear-induced wave of adrenalin gave him a burst of strength. He forced himself onward.

 

Johnny ignored the fact that he had just swallowed a hefty amount of the filthy water, and concentrated on achieving one step at a time, slowly navigating the few feet he needed to traverse to get to the scared young man. He knew that if he moved too hastily, it could result in dire consequences for both of them. The water was ruthless as it pummeled him, but he refused to let it get the best of him. The voice of the boy broke his concentration, and he was rewarded with another face full of water as he turned to look in his direction.

 

“P-p-please....h-help....m-m-me!” Now that his rescuer was nearly there, Nick frantically reached out with one arm, trying to grab hold of the fireman's turnout coat.

 

Gage was prepared for this kind of reaction. Spitting the water from his mouth, he moved just beyond the boy's reach, then quickly latched onto his flailing limb and placed it firmly back on the branch. “All right, now just calm down. I'm gonna get you outta here,” Johnny said sternly, yet in the most reassuring tone he could muster. He still held Nick's hands firmly to the branch as he ran a practiced eye over him as best he could, considering the conditions. “Are you hurt?”

 

Nick's whole body felt numb, and he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering no matter how hard he tried. To say he was exhausted was an understatement, and to make matters even worse, the alcohol he'd consumed at the party earlier, along with the marijuana, was making him nauseous. But he just didn't have the strength to say all that.

 

“D-don't.....th-think.....s-s-so,” Nick answered, making eye contact with the man. The full-blown terror he felt just moments ago slowly started to abate as he briefly gazed into Johnny's eyes. He seemed easy to trust.

 

When Johnny was fairly certain the kid wouldn't panic, he let go and unhooked the extra safety belt and line from his own. “Now, I'm gonna put this belt around you. I want you to hold on to that branch and don't let go until I say it's okay. Understand?”

 

It took every ounce of willpower he had to obey this firefighter. “Y-y-yeah....o-okay. B-but my f-f-fingers.....s-s-so cold.....can't f-f-feel 'em,” Nick said through chattering teeth.

 

“Don't worry, you'll be warm and dry before you know it,” Johnny said as his own frozen hands struggled to fasten the safety belt around the boy's waist under the water. Having accomplished that, Johnny fumbled awkwardly with the additional rope, working as best he could to untangle it. He kept up a steady mantra of reassurance, not letting in on to the fact that it was as much for his own benefit as it was for the boy's.

 

“Okay. Good d-deal.” His own teeth were chattering from the cold, and he clamped his jaw shut to try to keep the boy from noticing it. Tightening the rope, he checked it over as best he could, given the darkness and the furious gushing of the river, and felt satisfied it was secure. “We're just about ready here.”

 

Gage glanced back to where his partner was still standing on the edge above the concrete wall. Marco had taken hold of the boy’s line and was ready to help pull him in.

 

“Roy!” Johnny shouted over a loud clap of thunder.

 

Roy was unable to make out what his partner just said. “”What? he yelled back.

 

“P-pull us in....together!”

 

“All right. Let us know when you're ready!” Roy detected the slight stutter and pause in his best friend's voice and knew he was suffering from exposure. Johnny and Nick needed to get out of that river now.

 

“O-k-kay!” The dark-haired paramedic shifted his eyes back to his charge. “Okay, now th-this is what we're gonna do....” Johnny explained to Nick how the firemen standing on the river's bank, who were manning their life-lines, were going to reel them in simultaneously.

 

Nick's eyes grew wide at the thought of having to let go of the branch. He didn't know how to swim, just doggy-paddle, and he was so numb and so tired that he didn't even think he could do that. He was terrified. “NO! I c-can't!”

 

“Yes, you can!” Johnny stated emphatically. “Nick. Nick, look at m-me.” He waited until the young man's attention was focused on him. “You can do th-this, Nick,” the dark-haired paramedic assured. When no comments from the boy were forthcoming, he tried a different tactic. “Look, the longer we s-stay in this freezing water arguing, the l-longer it's gonna t-take to get outta here, so w-what's it going to be?”

 

The teen's answer was slow in coming. “All r-r-right,” Nick finally said, reluctantly giving in. His jaw was aching from his teeth chattering non-stop, and he thought for sure that they would chip. But right now he didn't care. All he wanted was to be warm and dry. As scared as he was, deep down he sensed this fireman would get him to safety.

 

Without warning, the wet branch shifted under Johnny and Nick's hands and became dislodged in the swift current. A look of utter terror crossed the boy's features as it quickly slipped from their grasp, and he made a fruitless attempt to lunge after it, almost causing himself and Johnny to lose their tenuous balance. Johnny's quick reflexes in pulling the boy back saved them both from going under the water. However, with nothing to hold on to, their upright status suddenly became very precarious as they felt the raging force of the river trying to whip them around into its grasp.

 

“Now!” Johnny shouted hoarsely to his friends on the riverbank. “B-bring us in - NOW!”

 

The urgency in the young paramedic's voice unnerved the men, especially Roy, and quickly spurred them into action. As they tightened their hold on the ropes, they started pulling them in, hand over hand.

 

Gage was relieved when he immediately felt the tugging on his belt. Nick felt the pressure from the tugging as well, and started to panic when he was forced to move his feet over the uneven and slippery bottom of the riverbed. Instinctively, Johnny latched his frozen fingers onto the boy's safety belt, pulling him in close. Nick's inability to swim necessitated a protective hold on him, and would also serve to make him feel more secure as they journeyed toward their rescuers. The young man wrapped his arms around Johnny's chest, grabbing onto his turnout coat with a death grip, or as close to a death grip as his numb fingers would allow.

 

They fought their way to the halfway point in a fragile embrace, the wicked current making it nearly impossible to keep their balance. The stench of the frigid water was revolting; the thought that John had swallowed so much of it sickened him. Man…I hope I don’t get poisoned by this shit…

 

The sudden realization that Nick was being separated from him tore Johnny from his absent thoughts that came as his concentration was dulled by the icy water. The boy's frantic grip was yanked from Gage's turnout as the current forced them apart.

 

“Ghah!” What the hell.... The paramedic's safety belt gouged painfully into his waist, and yet he wasn't moving forward with the boy. Gage knew then that his line must've gotten caught on something.

 

“S-stop!” Johnny felt like he was being ripped in half. “Slack off!”

 

Immediately, the men stopped. “What’s wrong?” Chet shouted.

 

Although John’s words were difficult to decipher, Roy had no trouble registering the anguish in his partner's anxious shout.

 

The rain was a downpour, and even with the bright searchlight shining directly on his partner and Nick, Roy could barely make out the two figures in the river. Each raindrop reflected the white light, distorting the scene in a blinding glare.

 

Roy wasn't positive what had happened, but years of experience with ropes and water rescues told him the line had snagged, and he suspected it was Johnny's, since he was the one unmoving. Worried, the senior paramedic turned to Marco. “I think he's caught!” Straining to see over the water, Roy squinted against the wind-driven rain as several lightning bolts lit up the night sky. “Johnny! What's wrong with your line?” he yelled.

 

“Give us s-some slack!” Johnny yelled back, ignoring Roy's question for the moment.

 

As soon as he felt their lines loosen minutely, the junior paramedic pulled Nick back against his body in a protective embrace. Johnny knew that he was going to be bruised and sore where his belt had dug into his midsection. His mind began wandering again. Hell, between havin' to fight this undertow and the way I've been shivering my ass off, I'm gonna be sore all over. Johnny briefly glanced at the scared young man holding onto him, remembering the booze and drugs that were still in his system. Combine that with hypothermia.... Man, this kid's gonna be hurtin' tomorrow.

 

The storm seemed to be picking up in intensity as Johnny blindly ran his numb fingers under the water and along the rope, wondering what it was caught on, and where. He didn't have to feel very far. Right beside him was the rusty shopping cart he'd seen on his way out. His line was somehow tangled in and around its bent rungs...just below the water's surface. Shit!

 

It had only been a minute, maybe less, with no word from his partner, but Roy was still concerned. “Johnny! What's wrong?” he asked again.

 

Frenetically, Johnny struggled to free the line, to no avail. Nick was practically sobbing now, so he made a decision. Squinting through the rain, he searched for Roy. “My line is snagged! You’re gonna have to pull him in first!”

 

 Roy hesitated only a second, the thoughts of an alternate plan fading quickly. “Okay!”

 

Hastily, Johnny explained to Nick what was going to happen, and detached Nick’s line from his own, much to the dismay of his charge. He kept a firm hold on the boy, making sure he was stable until the others were ready.

 

From the edge of the water they heard Roy yell, “Okay!”

 

A few seconds later, Marco and Hank took up the boy’s line and began pulling him to safety, while Roy and Chet held to Johnny’s line.

 

After making sure that Nick was safely on his way, Johnny began working to untangle his line from the shopping cart. He looked up several times to make sure Nick was still on his feet, not that he’d be able to do anything about it if he wasn’t, but he kept his eyes open just the same.

 

As he struggled with the line, Johnny’s breath caught in his throat when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw what looked like a baby floating face down in the river! Shocked, he lunged for the infant, snagging it by the leg just as it rushed by him. His heart rate skyrocketed as he turned the limp child over in his numb hands, preparing to begin rescue breathing. Winking blankly back at him was a one-eyed doll; its right arm also lacking. Relieved, Gage tossed it back in the river, angry that he’d jeopardized his precarious balance on an inanimate object.

 

Johnny’s numb fingers clumsily fought with the rope. His hands were now nearly useless and he grasped the shopping cart and shook it in frustration. Overhead, lightning zigzagged repeatedly, while below the water continued its pull. A plethora of objects rushed through the foaming water as Johnny continued his struggle; a shampoo bottle, a handle-less bucket, paper, and a rusty oilcan among the trash that bumped into him before making their way downstream.

 

Johnny looked up briefly to see that Nick had made it safely up the side; Marco had traversed a ways down the wall and was assisting him in climbing up. As soon as he was topside a blanket was draped around Nick’s shoulders. Johnny turned his attention downwards again. Frustrated, he threw a discouraged glance at Roy, who yelled out at him.

 

“Johnny! Do you need some help?”

 

“No! No! I can get it! Just…g-give me a minute!”

 

You don’t have a minute, partner. Roy struggled to hold onto Johnny’s line as the current fought him. He watched, his concern growing deeper every second longer that his partner was in the water. Like a dance floor strobe, lightning eerily illuminated the water in white flashes. The wind bent the trees sideways.

 

Johnny finally decided he was going to have to remove the line from his safety belt in order to get it untangled. He knew it was risky, but there was no other way, and he knew he couldn’t stay out in the water much longer. The last thing he wanted was for Roy or one of the other guys to risk coming out to help him. Keeping as firm a grasp on the rope as he could manage, he disconnected it from his belt, then began untangling it from the shopping cart. The wind sent his turnout collar flapping frenetically against his cheek as his head bent in concentration. Violent shivers wracked his body, further encumbering his work.

 

He’d just started making headway on the line when a powerful wave slammed into him. Gage went down, the strong undertow quickly dragging him below the surface of the water as the shopping cart raked over him. Now underneath the cart, and struggling to keep hold of his line, fear built as its steel jaws seemed to hold him in captivity, its metal sides banging his head and shoulder as the water pulled it in different directions.

 

Roy saw him go under and instinctively called out to him, his heart pounding as he waited for Gage to resurface. He took a few steps toward the edge, ready to go down if he didn’t see Johnny in another few seconds.

 

Johnny’s lungs began to burn and he wrestled in earnest, the raw edge of fear almost consuming. The training blueprinted in his mind that insisted he remain calm in harrowing situations was raveling away. Then the shopping cart jolted sideways a tiny bit, just enough to allow Johnny to swim free of it. With difficulty, he struggled to the surface, and came up sputtering and cursing. His lifeline was still entangled with the cart.

 

Exhaustion had set in and Johnny feared he wouldn’t have the strength to make it back. Straining to see his partner on the riverbank, he glanced over just in time to see a blinding flash of light streak down from the sky and strike a tree somewhere behind Roy and Chet.

 

The deafening crack shook the earth under Roy’s feet and he gazed up just in time to see a huge branch careening downward. Stumbling to get out of its path, Johnny’s line slipped from Roy’s hands. The pull was too much for Chet. As Roy’s hold suddenly extinguished, the line was wrenched from his hands.

 

Johnny’s line suddenly went slack, the rope now loosely snaking its way across the surface of the water. He didn’t have time to wonder what had happened. Another huge wave crashed over him, its force finally enough to break the shopping cart loose. The current from the raging water swiftly dragged him forward and downward, the shopping cart now sailing along beside him on his unwanted expedition.

 

Blinding fear engulfed him as the water pulled him under again, forcing its way into his mouth and nose. In that moment, it seemed certain that he was going to drown. His arms flailed impotently as he tried to gain purchase before the water sucked him all the way down, the terror of dying this way becoming all encompassing.

 

Roy’s ears were ringing as he staggered to his feet, the dropped line now rapidly slithering down the sloped wall toward the water. With a cry, he lunged for the line, sailing over the edge and landing on his stomach, snatching it up seconds before it disappeared into the water.

 

As Roy began sliding toward the water, he yelled up to Chet in a panicked tone. “Cheeeet!”

 

Having watched things unfold, Marco was on it instantly. Scooping up the line they’d used for the boy, he quickly secured it to his own safety belt, then yelled for Chet and Mike to secure his line. Seconds later, he practically dove over the edge, making his way toward Roy.

 

A moment later Marco had his arms around Roy’s legs. Roy was still on his stomach, holding onto Johnny’s line, but his downward slide halted. Marco reached forward and snagged a hold of Roy’s belt, wrapping his other arm around the man’s waist, then shouted for the others to pull them up. The slick moss embedded in the side of the concrete wall aided them in their incline, and soon both Marco and Roy were pulled to safety over the edge of the embankment. As Marco freed himself from Roy, he and Chet took up the slack on Gage’s line from a shaking Roy while he recovered.

 

Roy didn’t allow himself that luxury. Instantly he was at edge again, trying to spot his partner.

 

“Where the hell is he?” Chet shouted.

 

Roy haphazardly swept his dripping hair from his eyes and strained to see, but Johnny had disappeared. “I don’t know!” His voice wavered in fear that they’d lost their friend. Rain was blowing sideways, obstructing their view.

 

Mike swept the spotlight across the water, trying to spot Johnny, with Hank beside him.

 

Moments ago Captain Stanley’s handi-talkie flew to his mouth as he ordered the men downstream to prepare for a possible retrieval of a victim.  

 

Marco yelled to Roy from behind. “Where is he? Do you see him?”

 

Roy started to shake his head. “I don’t know, damn it!” He strained to see some sign of Johnny. “Wait! There!” He gestured to a point on the river with his chin. “There he is!”

 

The metal shopping cart that had held Johnny and his line hostage for so long bumped up against him, and he twisted, clamoring over it, using it to get him above water. Grasping white knuckled onto the metal device, he pulled himself up. When his head finally broke the surface, he choked, fighting to expel the filthy liquid and get a breath of air. Realizing with despair that he no longer had a hold on his line, he held on to the cart for dear life. Fortunately, the rope was still tangled around the cart under the water.

 

As soon as their comrade became visible, Roy joined the others and hauled on his line, slowly dragging Johnny and his unlikely appendage toward them. Hand over hand they heaved, until finally Johnny was about five yards away from the edge of the sloped wall. Their efforts halted when the shopping cart abruptly embedded itself into the sandy bottom.

 

With a jolt, Johnny cascaded off, falling awkwardly to his side and into the water. Gasping, he righted himself, the wall now close enough that he could use it to get leverage with his knees. With the absence of a safety line, he struggled to get his frozen body up the wall, the rushing water and mossy surface making that impossible. His frozen fingers clawed uselessly at the concrete.

 

Roy noticed with alarm that the line he held no longer was attached to Johnny’s safety belt, and he tossed it aside. Using Marco’s discarded line, he quickly wrapped it around the hook of his safety belt. Without a word of instruction, Chet and Marco automatically took up his line as Roy backed himself down the sloped wall toward his partner.

 

Johnny lay with his cheek against the wet mossy wall, the lower half of his body still buried under water, his chest heaving. He had no strength left. He wasn’t sure where he would go from here; he was just glad to be against something solid enough to keep him from being washed away.

 

The welcoming feel of a hand closing around his arm made Johnny lift his dripping head. The determined smile on Roy’s face was only inches from his and instantly conveyed that his life would not be lost in the river tonight. With eyes sagging in relief, Johnny weakly reached up and latched onto Roy’s other arm, allowing him to pull him in an upward direction.

 

As soon as Roy had Johnny beside him, he hooked his safety belt onto Johnny’s and the pair was slowly pulled up. Roy kept his arm around Johnny to steady him and keep him from collapsing against the slimy wall, as he was barely able to support his weight. When they finally reached the top, Chet and Marco dropped the line, each scooping a hand under Johnny’s arm to usher him over the edge. Gage staggered forward, coughing.

 

Consumed with uncontrollable tremors, the bedraggled paramedic sank to the ground in exhaustion. Roy and Chet were by his side, their own faces heavy with anxiety from the ordeal.

 

“Johnny?” Roy’s voice was tight as he clamped a hand onto Gage’s arm. “You okay? Chet, help me get his coat and belt off.”

 

Chet reached out to unsnap Gage’s turnout coat fasteners while Roy worked on the leather safety belt.

 

Gage’s expression was dazed as he sat crumpled and shaking on the earth.

 

Roy squeezed John’s shoulder and dipped his head to make eye contact with him. “Johnny?” Roy tried again.

 

“Y-y-yeah.” Johnny was barely able to talk through his chattering teeth. “I’m o-o-k-kay.”

 

Chet shot Roy a worried glance. The paramedic’s face was white and his lips were blue.

 

After removing Gage’s sodden coat, Roy wiggled out of his own and fitted John’s arms through it.

 

Suddenly, as if someone had shoved him, Johnny lurched forward, and all the filthy river water he’d swallowed poured from his mouth. He coughed a few times, expelled some more, then lifted his muddy palms off the ground and sat back shakily on his heels.

 

Roy heaved a sigh, patting Gage on the shoulder a couple of times. “Johnny. Look, let’s get you out of here. Can you stand?”

 

Gage’s eyes looked glazed. “Y-yeah,” he muttered, then tried unsuccessfully to push himself off the ground.

 

Roy and Chet pulled him to his feet, and began steering him toward the squad.

 

Hank jogged over and looked at Roy, throwing John a worried glance “He okay?”

           

“I think so, Cap. I’ll make sure he gets checked out at Rampart.”

           

Johnny closed his eyes in dismay, too tired to argue.

 

“How’s the kid, Cap?”

 

“He’s doing okay. He’s sitting in the ambulance getting warmed up. Guys from squad 98 are taking care of him. He doesn’t seem to be injured; they’re gonna take him in just to get checked out.”

 

“Good deal. Think we’ll head there ourselves.”

 

Now Gage shot Roy an irritated look. “I d-don’t need an am-b-bulance.”

 

“You need it if you wanna get warmed up. Now c’mon.” Roy pulled John by the arm, maneuvering him toward the ambulance.

 

“No,” Johnny insisted. “I’ll si-si-si-sit in the s-s-squad.” Johnny did not want to be in the ambulance with the kid while Roy checked him out, which he knew was inevitable.

 

Roy sighed in exasperation, then led Johnny to the squad. Once inside, Roy cranked the heater up, then helped Johnny take the turnout coat off, and wrapped a heavy blanket around the shivering man. He exited the cab momentarily, returning with a BP cuff and stethoscope. Roy reached out and snatched up Johnny’s clammy wrist. Other than a withering look of disdain in his direction, Johnny elicited no other response.

 

Gage sat limply, except for an occasional shudder, staring out the window while Roy continued the exam, getting his blood pressure and respirations. Roy elected not to contact Rampart since Johnny’s vitals were in the normal range, and Gage had never lost consciousness. He did, however, have a few scratches on his face, no doubt from the tango he’d danced with the shopping cart.

 

Both men were quiet for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts, the only sound being the loud shush of the heater fan on high.

 

Finally, Johnny broke the silence. “Man,” he said quietly. “That was c-close.” A shiver crawled up his spine to tremble his shoulders.

 

Roy swallowed. “Yeah,” he responded just as quietly.

 

Silence ensued for another minute before a knock on the window startled both men.

 

Captain Stanley opened Johnny’s door and offered a concerned smile. “How’re you feelin’?”

 

Johnny looked up at his captain with a tired grimace. “Spectacular.”

 

Hank chuckled and shook his head sympathetically, relieved at Gage’s confirmation that he was okay. “Get to the hospital,” he added, patting Johnny on the shoulder.

 

The next morning, the wake up tones brought the men back to reality. Outside, the howling wind rattled the station windows, and the rain continued to pound the building without signs of letting up. With no appreciable sunlight, the crew rose sluggishly, feeling as if they'd been summoned out of bed before dawn. 

 

Roy sat wearily on the edge of his bunk rubbing his eyes, preparing to step into his bunker pants. He looked over at his partner, who was still in bed lying on his back, staring blearily up at the ceiling. The rustling of turnout pants and snapping suspenders were the only sounds breaking the silence.

 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” Roy nudged John’s bunk with his foot.

 

Johnny grumbled something that sounded like 'oh man', then rolled over onto his side. A small bit of water gushed out of his ear, dampening his pillow. The uncomfortable wetness prompted him to rise, wiping at his ear. He pulled his covers back and swung his legs onto the floor, resting there a moment with his elbows on his knees.

 

Roy looked at his partner. He looked tired and pale, even in this light. “You feelin' all right?”

 

Johnny looked up. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. That river rescue just wore me out, you know?” He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, slowly becoming cognizant of the fact that he really didn't feel all that good. His ear was slightly achy, his chest still felt tight, and his stomach wasn't quite where it should be.

 

“Yeah,” Roy responded, suppressing a shudder at the thought of what had almost happened to his best friend. “You know, maybe you should stop back at Rampart again this morning just to make sure – ”

 

Gage held up his hand, cutting him off. “All I need right now is my nice warm waterbed.” He looked up. “Just do me one favor.”

 

“What?”

 

“Next time we get a water rescue, you get to go in first and nearly drown.”

 

Roy smiled his toothy grin. “Deal. Except for the drowning part.”

 

Johnny cracked a crooked grin at him. “I stand corrected.” He stood up, stepping into his boots and pulling up his suspenders, breathing in. “Ah....I smell coffee.”

 

“Leave it to Mike.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Let's go get some before it's gone.”

 

“Yeah. Or before Chet ruins it with his egg shells.”

 

“Right, Junior.

 

Two pots of coffee and six replacement men later, the men of A shift trudged to the locker room to change back into street clothes for the trip home.

 

“With this weather, I wish I could just wear my bunkers home. I’ll just get soaked anyway.” Marco slipped on the jacket he kept in the back of his locker.

 

Stoker scowled at his shift mate. “At least you brought a jacket; I’m gonna freeze.”

 

“Aw, guys, this isn’t cold. It’s only forty-three. If you want to know about cold…” Johnny began.

 

“…then you oughta feel the winters we had back home,” the rest of the men chorused.

 

John smiled apologetically. “Have I mentioned that before?”

 

“One day, we’ll get an Eskimo in the department and someone can finally one-up the Intolerable Snowman here.” Chet closed his locker with a slam; he had fallen asleep last night before pulling his creamed corn gag, and felt cheated. “See you guys later.” 

 

Roy closed his locker and looked a wary eye over at Johnny. He still looked a little peaked. “You ready?”

 

Johnny zipped up his jacket. “Yeah,” he said wearily. The two walked out of the locker room together and stood in front of the open bay door looking out into the torrential downpour.

 

“Want to make a run for it?” Roy asked. 

 

“Nah. Think I'll walk.” Running was out of the question in his current state.

 

“Me too. Guess a little water won't hurt me. I'll be home soon enough.”

 

“That’s right. At least you have a warm body to snuggle up to when you get home.” Johnny grimaced, wishing Mick was at home.

 

“Michaela working today?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Well, you can always snuggle up to the dogs.” Roy grinned.

 

“Nah. They’re not allowed on the bed any more. Michaela woke up with her arms wrapped around Denali just once, and they’ve been on the floor ever since.” John gathered his duffle bag and fished out his keys. “I’m outta here. See you Friday morning.”

 

Roy waved, and the two hastily made their way to their respective cars.

 

 

 

Johnny threw his car door open, and plopped bonelessly into his seat. His arms rested on the steering wheel limply, unwilling to do his bidding. He rubbed his ear absently and realized doing so was uncomfortable. For that matter, he was uncomfortable just about everywhere. His muscles ached from the strain forced upon them a few hours ago; his stomach was feeling queasier by the moment, his lungs felt congested, and he just plain felt like shit.

 

He recalled the conversation he'd had last night with the doctor, remembering when he'd lied and said he hadn't really swallowed much water. Roy hadn’t been in the room at that time, allowing him to get away with it. He had just wanted to get to bed so badly that staying around the hospital for even another minute was so unappealing that he would have said anything to get out of there. Now he cursed himself for turning down Dr. Morton’s suggestion to fill a prescription for antibiotics to ward off any bad bugs that might have gotten into his system. 

 

He started the engine, arduously managing to put the Rover in gear, and backed out of his spot. Automatically, he turned in the direction of the hospital instead of home, having subconsciously decided that he probably was going to be in need of those antibiotics the doctor had offered earlier. He figured it was either now, or inevitably, he’d wind up there later.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

 

Twenty minutes after leaving the station, Roy dashed up to his house and through the door Joanne held open for him. “Brrrr! Man, that rain is cold!” Roy pulled off his wet jacket and shoes, leaving them on the stoop to dry.

 

“I know how to warm you up.” Joanne pulled him into a warm embrace. “How’s that?”

 

“Hmmm. Very nice.” Roy slipped his hands onto Joanne’s backside. “Very nice, indeed.”

 

“Before you get too comfortable, I’ve got your breakfast ready in the kitchen.” Jo slipped out of his arms and winked, leading him into the kitchen. Sitting him down at the table, she put a full plate before him. “Since you mentioned sausage and pancakes, I thought you might want those this morning.”

 

Roy positively beamed. “Perfect. Thank you, honey.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Joanne sat down next to Roy and watched him eat, all the while struggling internally at how to bring up the subject she wanted to talk about. She knew she shouldn’t be nervous, but she couldn’t help it. She had no idea how Roy would react.

 

Roy sensed her staring at him, his eyes slowly lifting from his plate to meet her gaze expectantly. “What?” he asked as he chewed. Then he remembered the phone conversation they’d had last night and the fact that Joanne had something important she wanted to talk about.

 

His fork made a clang as it hit the plate. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

 

Joanne opened her mouth to speak, then nervously licked her lips.

 

“Jo, if this is about the pool,” Roy began, but was hushed by two gentle fingertips on his lips.

 

“No, love, it has nothing to do with the pool. I…just wanted to tell you what I did yesterday.” She waited while Roy put down his coffee cup; she didn’t want to startle him into spilling the hot liquid on himself. “I went to see Dr. Adams yesterday.”

 

“Your GYN? Is there a problem?” Roy was instantly concerned.

 

“Well, not really. I was just there for my regular checkup, but he did find something I never suspected.”

 

“So, what is it?” Roy’s voice rose an octave. She was beginning to scare him.

 

“Nothing bad, it’s okay. But…I’m pregnant.” Jo waited to see Roy’s reaction.

 

Roy closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. “You’re pregnant?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh, boy.” Roy took Joanne’s hands in his own. “There’s no doubt?”

 

Jo smiled tolerantly. “You know I wouldn’t have said anything if there was. I’m really pregnant. I hope you’re not upset?”

 

“Honey, no, of course not. It’s just…well, it’s unexpected, you know?” Roy tried to keep his misgivings tightly concealed. “How far along are you?”

 

“Only just over a month. That’s why I didn’t suspect it. I thought I was just running late, but Dr. Adams has started doing blood tests for anyone who’s periods get irregular. He says he’s caught three pregnancies very early that way.” Jo paused. “Roy, is this going to be a problem? I mean, with Chris and Jenny, we didn’t plan them…they just happened. I know we’re a little older, but Dr. Adams says it’s not a problem, and I’m doing fine.”

 

“Hon, it’ll be okay.” Roy reached out to his wife and gathered her up in his arms. “It’ll be wonderful.” Visions of doctor bills and sleepless nights danced in his head, but he kept quiet. They’d figure things out, just like they always had. Besides, maybe this child would be the best one yet. And, Chris and Jenny were old enough to help with the baby…Roy’s smile grew. Yep, this could be a very good thing after all.

 

All the tension suddenly eased out of Joanne’s shoulders. Thank God, he was taking this so well. Money would be tight, but maybe she could take a part-time job for the first few months, just to pad their nest egg before she got too far along. Of course, Roy’s opinion about her working was something that would be hard to change, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she was content to bask in his apparent joy at her news.

 

There was, however, one other thing she wanted to discuss. Getting up, she got the coffee pot and poured Roy another cup, then sat back down. “Were you busy last night at work?”

 

Roy looked at her curiously. “We had one run. Why?”

 

She looked down at the table. “I heard on the news this morning that a boy nearly drowned in the river.”

 

Roy nodded warily.

 

“And that the paramedics rescued him.”

 

“That’s right.” Roy wasn’t sure where this was leading.

 

“They also said…that a paramedic nearly drowned trying to save him.” Joanne stared somberly at Roy. “ I could have sworn it was Hank Stanley’s voice I heard talking to reporters on the radio this morning. Roy…was that paramedic…you?”

 

Roy sighed, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup as his head dropped. Finally, he looked up. “No.”

 

Joanne visibly sagged in relief.

 

“It was Johnny.”

 

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes closed briefly. “Oh no. Is he all right?”

 

Roy leaned back in his chair. “He’s fine, Jo.” Then he told her about the rescue and what had happened, leaving out, of course, the more harrowing details.

 

Joanne frowned unhappily. “Roy, this is too close. I can’t lose you now. I don’t want to raise three kids by myself.”

 

“Jo, I told you, it was Johnny.” Although it could have been me…

 

Her voice sounded despaired. “Don’t you understand, Roy? It could have been you! It could have just as easily been you.”

 

Roy took her hand in his. “But it wasn’t,” he said softly.

 

He also knew why it hadn’t been him – because his partner had once again jumped in ahead of him. It occurred to him that Johnny tended to do that quite often, and not for the first time it dawned on Roy that maybe Johnny was trying to protect him because he had a family.

 

Johnny hated water rescues, yet last night he had plunged ahead anyway. Roy remembered how Johnny had felt after Drew died, and what he’d said about things being much harder for those left behind, and that he was glad for that reason that he wasn’t married. Roy decided he was going to have to have a talk with his partner.

 

“Roy,” she put her hand on top of his, “do you think that maybe this might be a good time to consider taking the engineer’s exam again? Maybe it would be better if you did a safer job, maybe – ” Roy was already shaking his head and she knew she was defeated.

 

“Honey…I’m not ready to quit being a paramedic yet.”

 

Joanne smiled sadly at him, not surprised by his answer. “I know. I just don’t want to lose you.”

 

“You’re not going to lose me, Joanne. I promise.” He pulled her to him and hugged her again.

 

“Will you do me one favor, then?” she asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Just…be careful. Don’t take any chances.” She looked meaningfully at him. “For the baby’s sake, and for all of us. We’re all depending on you.”

 

He smiled. “Joanne, I’m always careful. But I promise to be extra careful, and I won’t take any chances. Okay?”

 

She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, taking her husband into her arms again.

 

 

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

 

 

“Johnny?” Roy opened the screened door and poked his head in. “You in here?”

 

“I’m back here," John yelled from his kitchen. He was in a particularly good mood this morning, and was looking forward to moving Michaela in with him.

 

The better part of the previous day had taken place in bed resting, after taking the antibiotics that Doctor Morton had prescribed. He was very glad now that he had gone back to the hospital, despite the tongue lashing he'd had to endure from Morton.

 

The handsome black doctor had crossed his arms in disgust upon learning that his patient hadn't been truthful with him the night before about how much water he'd swallowed, or about how badly he was feeling. Even though Mike Morton clearly saw how rotten John felt by the look on his face when he showed up in his treatment room, Johnny thought he had actually enjoyed giving him a hard time about it, as if he must endure his penance before being allowed the antibiotics that would help him feel better.

 

John recalled with chagrin how shaky his hands had been when he'd opened the bottle and downed the first one at the hospital, then had driven himself home in the rain, feeling achy and nauseous the whole way. He'd climbed into bed the minute he'd stepped foot in the house, and had stayed there all day. This morning's self examination in the mirror had brought a grimace to his face when he saw all the bumps and bruises his battered body had endured from the water rescue. He'd popped a couple of aspirin along with his prescription before getting dressed to ease the aches. Ah well, at least the drugs had done the trick quickly, and now he felt almost back to his normal perky self. It was a good thing too; it was going to be long day, and the last thing he needed was to be sick.

 

Roy entered the house, followed by Marco, and walked back toward John’s voice. “Chet’s pulling up now.” They found Johnny at the stove, frying bacon. “Well, at least it smells good.”

 

John’s eyes never left the sizzling pan in front of him. “It’ll taste good, too, smartass. I’ll wait 'til Mike and Cap get here to do the eggs.”

 

“Johnny?” Chet’s nervous voice drifted in from the front porch, accompanied by Denali’s deep bark. “Tell this giant dog of yours to back off!”

 

“Serves you right! He remembers what you did to him last time.” John turned off the burner and started removing the bacon, placing it on paper towels to drain.

 

“Here, I’ll do that. Go rescue your nemesis.” Roy nudged John away from the stove and took the tongs from his hands. “I’m not in the mood to patch anyone up on my day off.”

 

Johnny went out to the porch, and started laughing; Denali had Chet backed up against one of the porch pillars, his front paws on the shorter man’s shoulders. “Aw, Chet! You asked him to dance?”

 

Chet shot back uneasily, “Yeah, but he wants to lead. Get him down!”

 

“Denali. Heel.” John’s voice was firm, but kept his tone friendly. The dog immediately obeyed, coming to sit at John’s side. “Good boy. Leave Chet alone; he won’t mess with you anymore.” The malamute looked up at John, then back at Chet.

 

“Did you feed him this morning? I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.” Chet eyed the dog warily, whose lips had arisen slightly showing his fangs.

 

“He’s just smiling at you. Don’t worry; he’s been fed.” John started to go back in as another car pulled up. Good; Mike and Cap are here. A loud whinny from the pasture stopped his hand as he reached to open the screen door. “What the…” He looked out toward the sound and groaned. “Oh, great!”

 

“Gee, John. We’re glad to see you too.” Cap smiled as he and Mike approached the porch.

 

“Hi, guys. Uh, sorry – the pasture gate is open for some reason. Go on in…I’ll be back in a sec.” John trotted off toward the pasture, leaving his guests to fend for themselves.

 

Mike followed Johnny, leaving Cap staring at Chet.

 

“What did you do to the dog?” Hank asked, noticing the way Denali was watching Chet.      

 

“He’s mad. I wouldn’t let him lead.” Chet turned and walked into the house.

 

“Oookay..” Cap patted the huge dog’s head and followed Chet inside. “I won’t ask.”

 

            John and Mike started toward the pasture gate that swung open in the breeze, slowing as they approached so as not to spook the horses that grazed nearby. John examined the latch  on the gate and sighed. “I thought I had this fixed the other day, but it gave loose again.” He thought a moment, then asked Mike, “Can you hold this shut while I go in the barn a sec?”

 

“Sure, Johnny.” Mike held the gate closed as requested.

 

John returned a minute later with a short length of chain and a lock. Threading the chain around the supports of the gate, he secured the ends with the lock and clicked it shut. “That’ll do until I can get to it later.” John waited as one of the horses approached. “We have company.” He slipped through the rails of the adjoining fence and reached for the horse, who stopped and lowered its head toward John’s pockets. He fondly stroked the animal’s broad neck. “Sorry, no sugar in there today,” he apologized as he lifted the horse’s head away from his pockets. Come say hello.” John motioned for Mike.

 

Mike approached the horse in the same calm way that John had. “Which one is she? I forget.”

 

John continued to stroke the mare, keeping her at ease. “Gracie Lee.”

 

Mike reached out a cupped hand and allowed the horse to get his scent, her soft muzzle tickling his palm.

 

“Easy, girl. Remember me?” He reached up and stroked her neck, smiling as the horse nickered in recognition.

 

“She remembers you.” John said proudly; he loved to show off his horses. 

 

“She’s a beauty, that’s for sure. I’ve got to come back when we can go riding again.” Mike chuckled as Gracie muzzled his chest, wanting more strokes. “She’s fatter than the last time I saw her.”

 

John laughed. “She’s not fat; she’s pregnant. She and Marie both. They’ll both foal in the next two weeks.”

 

“Well, I guess that shows what I know about horses.” Mike grinned as he reached over and patted her side. “Are you gonna keep the foals?”

 

John sighed. “No, I’ll send them to my cousin in Montana in exchange for two of his. I’m getting another breeding pair from him in the summer.”

 

“I don’t understand about breeding horses, but you seem to know what you’re doing.” Mike watched in admiration as the other horses approached John, looking to see what the two men were doing in their pasture. They were soon surrounded and being nuzzled.

 

“Sorry, guys, no treats in here.” John apologized as Moe nosed his pockets, then snorted his disappointment. “Go on, now.” He started back for the fence as Mike followed. “We’d better get back to the house before Chet and the guys eat all the food.”

 

Walking back to the house, Mike looked back at the herd as they resumed grazing. “You sure have a nice bunch of horses, John."

 

“Thanks, Mike.” John smiled contentedly. “I have to pinch myself every now and then. For a while, I wondered if I’d ever get to have a ranch of my own, and now that I do, it’s just…it’s better than I had even hoped for.”

 

“You’ve worked hard to get it. You should be proud of yourself.”

 

“Pride goeth before a fall.” 

 

Mike snorted. “Is that an old Indian proverb?”

 

“Maybe. An old Indian taught it to me.” John laughed as they walked into the house. 

 

In the kitchen, Roy manned the stove, stirring the scrambled eggs he’d started. “What was wrong with the horse?”

 

“Nothin’,” John nudged Roy away from the stove. “The latch on the gate’s broke. I’ll finish that. You go sit.”

 

Roy joined the others around the heavy wooden table that sat in the center of the large room. “What time are we supposed to be at the apartment?”

 

“Whenever. Mick gets off shift this morning…,” John glanced up at the clock over the stove, “about now. She might get here before we leave.”

 

“Is she going with us?” Marco asked as he sipped his coffee.

 

John finished the eggs and pulled the biscuits from the oven. “Nope. She’s probably been going steady for the last thirty-six hours, so she’ll crash as soon as she gets here.” 

  

“Aw, Johnny! You baked just for us?" Chet teased as the warm aroma of the fresh bread wafted in the air.

 

“No, I opened a can of whomp biscuits and threw them in.”

 

“Whomp biscuits?”

 

“Yeah. You whomp the can on the edge of the counter, and it opens,” John explained slowly, as if to a child. “Mick says that’s what they call them down South.”

 

 “Rampart works their residents pretty hard, don’t they?” Hank watched as John put the food on the table, and grabbed a hot biscuit as soon as John’s hand was out of the way.

 

“Dig in.” John sat beside Roy and grabbed a biscuit for himself as the others started in. “Yeah, they do," Johnny answered. “They rotate twenty-four, thirty-six and forty-eight hour shifts, get two days off, then start the rotation again. It’s pretty grueling," he continued between bites.

 

“How much longer does she have in her residency?” Roy took some bacon and passed the plate down to Chet.

 

“One more year. She’ll get a couple of weeks off next month, then start her last year. She’s hoping to stay at Rampart, if she gets the Chief Resident position. If not, we don’t know which hospital she’ll be at.” John sighed. “If she ends up at Saint Mary‘s, the commute is gonna be brutal.”

 

“Saint Mary’s? That’s over an hour from here,” Roy frowned. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to have an apartment closer in?”

 

“Yeah, it would,” John agreed, “but her lease is up, and she would have had to sign up for six months, minimum, to stay where she is. If she had to relocate, she’d have to pay extra to break the lease.” He grinned widely. “And she says the fringe benefits here with me are better…” The ringing of the phone interrupted John’s explanation, and he got up to answer it.

 

The men talked among themselves until John returned to the table.

 

“That was Mick. She’s gonna crash at her apartment until we get there.”

             

 “Well, let’s get this cleaned up so we can get started,” Cap suggested, and the others followed, helping John clear the table and put the dishes in the sink for later. Taking John’s Rover, Roy’s pickup and Chet’s van, they headed for Mick’s apartment.

 

Half an hour later, they arrived at the apartment building and parked near the entrance. The men waited in the hall while John unlocked the door and went in first.

 

“Michaela?” John walked down the short hall to the bedroom. “Micki?” He had started to call again when he spotted her on the bed, sound asleep. “Mick, wake up.” Gently shaking her shoulder, he was rewarded with a soft moan. 

 

“Is she okay?” Roy’s hushed voice came from the hallway behind him.

 

“Yeah, she’s just exhausted. She’s coming off a thirty-six hour shift. You guys go ahead and start taking out the boxes while I wake her up.” John shook her shoulder again, a little more firmly. “Michaela, wake up for me. The guys are here.”

 

Mick opened one eye and sighed. “Hi, sweetie. I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

“That’s okay. How are you feeling?”

 

Mick closed her eye again. “Zonked. We were busy all night.”

 

“That’s okay.” John leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “We’ll get this stuff loaded, and get you home. Go back to sleep.” She complied with no effort.

 

John returned to the living room and looked around. “The only furniture that goes is that credenza over there. The rest of it came with the apartment.”

 

 “Okay,” Roy answered. “Cap says some are the boxes are marked ’house’ and some say ’barn’. If we put them in those two groups, which do you want closest to the outside to be unloaded first?”

 

John thought a moment. “Pack the ones for the barn first, so we can unload the house stuff first. She’s going to want to go straight into bed when we get there.”

 

“Um….Johnny?” Mike’s head popped from behind a box. “You wanna come look at this?”

 

John walked over to where Mike and the rest of the guys were standing. “What?”

           

“These boxes don’t say house or barn…where do they go?” Cap could hardly keep from laughing out loud. “It’s your call.”

 

John read the labeling on the boxes and grinned. Taking one and putting it in Cap’s hands, he innocently answered “House”, and walked back to the living room.

 

Cap looked at Mike and shrugged. “I didn’t know either. You think that’s what’s really in there?”

 

Reading the words ’bondage and domination’ on the box in Cap’s hands, Mike deadpanned, “Are you gonna look?” 

 

“Hell, no!” Cap turned as Chet laughed at the way the man held the box away from his chest, as if it contained live snakes.

 

“Here, this one’s light!” Chet put the smaller box on top of the one Cap held. “I think they go together.”

 

Cap read the words ‘inflatable Johnny’ on the box, groaned, and continued on his way out.

 

All three vehicles were soon filled and the apartment empty. “That’s the last of it,” John announced. “Thanks again for the help, guys.”

 

Marco waved him off. “It was easy, except for those medical books. I wonder if any of them covered how to do a hernia repair?”

 

“Go get your lady and we’ll head over to the ranch.” Cap climbed into Roy’s truck. 

 

 

 

The men waited as John retrieved Michaela, then helped fold her into his Rover. Traffic had picked up, and it took forty-five minutes to get to the ranch. John hopped out and unlocked the front door, then returned to the Rover to get Mick inside. Helping her out of her hospital scrubs and into bed, he tucked her in and rejoined the guys as they began unloading. 
 
            An hour later, the move was finished and the men were relaxed in John’s living room. “Thanks again, guys.” He peered out of a nearby window at the pouring rain; the skies had opened up just as they had returned from the barn. “Man! You can’t see five feet in this. You all want to hang around here until it lightens up?” 

 

“If you don’t mind. I need new wipers on the van, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Chet looked out of the same window. “I won’t be able to see shit in this.”

 

“Let me call Joanne and let her know.” Roy picked up the phone and frowned. “Phone’s out, Johnny.”

 

“Sorry about that. It always seems to go out when it storms around here,” John apologized. “I’m gonna go check on Mick.”

 

“So, now what do we do?” Cap stretched his long legs as he slid further into the sofa, relishing its softness.

 

“It’s twelve-thirty; think Johnny will feed us twice in one day?” Chet plopped down on the other sofa, nudging Marco. “Slide over.”

 

Mike raised an eyebrow at Chet‘s suggestion. “Do you really want Johnny to cook lunch? He does okay for breakfast, but I’m not in the mood for hotdogs or hamburgers….again.” 

 

“You’ve got a point there,” Chet agreed. “Ya think the TV would bother Mick?”

 

Mike opened his mouth to answer just as the lights went out. “It won’t now.”

 

Johnny came back downstairs. “Sorry, guys. The electricity goes out a lot, too.” He pulled a Coleman lantern from a nearby closet and took it into the kitchen to light it. The flame sputtered for a moment before bathing the room in a soft glow.

 

“And then there was light," Roy teased, the others were behind him as they joined John at the table.

 

“Anybody hungry?” John looked around the table.

 

“Yeah, but what can you do with no lights?” Marco asked.

 

“No problemo. The stove is gas.” John got up, pulled some supplies from the refrigerator, and got busy. “Roy, why don’t you look in this drawer over here,” John gestured toward a hutch that sat in a corner. “There’s a deck of cards and some poker chips. We can play a few hands if you want.”

 

Roy rummaged through the drawer and found the items. “Deal you in?”

 

“Not yet. I’ll sit in after this is done. You guys go ahead.” John continued to work, pulling out a long sheet pan from a cabinet.

 

“What are you making?” Chet asked as he started to shuffle the cards.

 

“Sandwiches. You’ll like ‘em.”

             

“We’ll have to. We’re at your mercy.” Cap glanced over, unable to see much of what Johnny was doing. “Just remember, you owe us for this morning.”

 

“Bunch of food critics.” John groused as he worked. 

 

Two hands of seven-card stud later, Johnny plopped a large plate of sandwiches onto the table, right on top of the poker chips. “Dig in and deal me in.” He grabbed a sandwich for himself and took a seat next to Chet, peering over the man’s shoulder at his cards. “You have nothing with that hand, anyway.”

 

“Damn it, Johnny, I had a bluff going!” Chet snarled as John took the cards from his hand.

 

“Not a very good one.” Mike laid his hand on the table. “Royal flush.”

 

The others tossed their cards down and grabbed the food. Taking a cautious bite, Cap tasted the sandwich and raised his eyebrows. “Damn, Johnny…these are actually good! Why don’t you make this at the station?”

 

“Because they’re terrible reheated,” John answered around a mouthful of melted cheese.

             

“How do you make these? I can’t tell in this light.” Roy tried to pry open the sandwich, but the cheese held it shut.

 

“Easy. Toasted rye bread, sliced roast beef with Swiss cheese, and horseradish…stick it in the oven to melt the cheese. That’s it.” John explained. “Oh, and butter both sides before you put it in the oven.”

 

“I’ve always wondered what men talk about over poker,” Mick’s soft voice came from the darkness as she padded into the room, “but I never imagined it was trading recipes.”

 

John stood as she approached, but Mick stopped him with one hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get up.” She reached across him and snagged a sandwich. “This is what woke me. Who’s winning?”

 

“Nobody right now. Johnny messed it up.” Chet moved the plate from atop the poker chips and started gathering cards. “You in?” 

 

“No, thanks.” Mick tousled John’s hair and headed to the door. “You guys have fun. I’m going back to bed.”

 

“When do you want me to wake you?” Johnny asked as Chet dealt the cards.

 

“Three. I don’t want to sleep all day, or I’ll be up all night," Mick called over her shoulder as she left the men to their card game.

 

“We might still be here if this rain doesn’t let up.” Mike looked at his cards glumly. “Beth was right; she says she always doubles however long Johnny says I’ll be gone whenever he calls us out to help him with a project.”

 

Roy laughed. “Jo says the same thing.”

 

John looked at his friends with indignation as they nodded agreement. “That’s not true!”

 

“Whatever you say. Your bet, John.” Cap grinned as John closed his mouth, unable to really argue with them.

 

“Check!” John growled, frowning at his hand.

 

 

It was almost two-thirty by the time the rain had slacked off enough for the men to head home. Roy remained, and joined John in taking one of the comfortable rocking chairs that lined the porch.

 

Sensing his friend needed to talk, John remained quiet as the two of them slowly rocked, listening to the raindrops gently tapping the tin roof of the porch. He had relaxed to the point of sleepiness, and nearly jumped when Roy finally spoke.

 

“Joanne’s pregnant.”

 

John abruptly stopped rocking and sat up straight to look at his friend. “Say what?”

 

“She’s pregnant. She told me when I got off shift yesterday.” Roy’s face was unreadable, but Johnny heard the unease in his friend’s voice.

 

John looked intently at his friend. “So, is this a good thing, or a bad thing?”

 

“Both. I guess I should’ve taken that promotion when I had the chance.” Roy shifted uneasily. “I can’t let Jo think I’m anything other than thrilled about it, though. I can’t let her worry about anything other than her health and the baby.”

 

“And what worries you the most, Roy? Just the money aspect, or is there something else?”

 

Roy sighed. “The money part is the root of it all. See, when we had Chris and Jenny, we barely scraped by. I had to work overtime to pay the extra bills, and Jo tried to do everything around the house that I didn’t have time for…you know, cutting the grass, hauling the trashcans out on garbage day, minor repairs around the house…in addition to all the stuff she usually did just running the household. It wore us both down, and we were a lot younger then. Now, she’ll be trying to do all that and take care of Chris and Jenny…it’ll be summer soon, and they’ll be at home.” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “I just worry about how Jo will handle all that.”

 

John smiled. “Roy, it’ll be okay.”

 

“You say that so easily. Just wait until it’s your turn. You’ll see.”

 

John snorted ruefully. “If I ever get my turn.” He leaned forward, getting Roy’s attention. “But, we’re talking about you and Joanne. So, you have to work some overtime. So, the grass gets a little longer between mowings. Big deal. Besides, you have something now that you didn’t have then to make it easier.”

 

Roy frowned, not understanding. “And what is that?”

 

Grinning smugly, John leaned back. “Me.”

 

 “You?”

 

“Yeah, me. Whenever you’re working overtime, and Jo needs anything, she can call me. I’ll be there in no time, and I’ll do what needs doing.”

 

Roy grimaced. “You can’t do that – you have your hands full here. You have new foals coming, not to mention a new relationship to nurture. How is Michaela gonna feel about you leaving her to run help my wife?”

 

“Roy, if there’s anything I’ve learned since meeting Mick, it’s not to underestimate her. I know you and Jo haven’t had much of a chance to get to know her yet, but I can tell you she’s not going to have a problem with this.” John lowered his voice. “Besides, if she does, I know how to make it up to her.” He grinned wickedly.

 

Roy snickered, “Oh, you do? And just how do you plan to do that?”

 

“That, my friend, is none of your business.” John smiled to soften his words. “Just don’t worry about it. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

 

Roy automatically opened his mouth to repeat his disbelief in John’s ability to help as much as he and Jo would need, but one look at his partner’s earnest expression quelled that action. In an instant, he remembered all the times Johnny had helped him in one way or another, and had always come through in a pinch. For the first time since Jo’s announcement, Roy pushed aside his misgivings and started to feel the enthusiasm that being a father again could, and should, bring. Maybe this could work out after all, he began to think, and smiled in relief. I can always count on you, partner.

 

“Johnny, I don’t know what to say, except...thank you. You’re a good friend.”  Roy allowed himself to relax, basking in John’s eternal optimism for not the first time.

 

“I’m a great friend," John snorted back with a twinkle in his eye. “What’s this ‘good’ shit?”

 

Roy laughed. “I stand corrected.” He glanced at his watch. “And, since it's five after three, you’d better wake up your lady or you’ll be in trouble already.”

 

John stood smoothly. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.” He stretched lazily. “I’d walk you out to your car, but I think you know the way.”

 

“Yeah. You have work to do. Better hop to it.” Roy started down the porch steps and stopped, his expression serious. “Johnny, I really do appreciate your help. I just want you to know that.”

 

John nodded. “I know, Pally. You’d do the same for me.”

 

“Yeah, I would. See ya in the morning.” Roy headed off to his car as John opened the screen door to go inside. Without turning around, he added over his shoulder, “Don’t sprain anything in the meantime!”

 

“Shut up, Chet!” John walked inside, locked the door, and softly padded up the stairs to the bedroom.

 

Stealthily opening the door, he slipped inside. A sly grin spread over his face as he watched Mick sleeping. He crept silently across the floor, avoiding the floorboard by the bed that always squeaked when stepped on, shed his clothes and slipped under the covers.

 

Mick stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake. She was having the most wonderful dream. Floating in a warm sea; her body drifted along with the current effortlessly as the water caressed her like a hundred soft hands. Sensuous and soothing at the same time, she felt the hands wander across the flat plane of her abdomen and work their way lower and lower to finally meet at the core of her being. Every cell of her body was electrified as the water turned warmer at the apex of her thighs and lapped insistently at the one spot that felt best. Just when she thought she could feel nothing better than this, the water solidified and Mick felt herself impaled gently but forcefully at the same time. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, not comprehending at first. The face so close to hers seemed familiar as it moved to cover her own with velvety kisses. Her eyes closed again, her senses so overloaded that she couldn’t bear to keep them open. Over and over again, she felt the hot hardness enter and leave, driving her to the point where she felt her world explode into a climax of sensation she had never experienced before.

 

Breathless from his efforts, John collapsed beside Michaela, his body trembling almost beyond his control. Never before in his considerable experience had he been with a woman so turned on, so responsive to his touch. He’d been so caught up in her response that he’d lost himself, and it both frightened and excited him at the same time.

 

Mick opened her eyes, and looked over at John. “My God....” she began, her tongue not connecting with her brain quite yet. She cleared her throat and tried again. “J-Johnny…what…?”

 

 It took him a moment to put his own thoughts in order. “You wanted me to wake you at three.” His own voice sounded funny to him at first, pitched slightly higher than usual. “Umm…right?” There, that sounded better.

 

Mick slowly sat up and rubbed her face, still fuzzy from lack of sleep and the awakening she’d received. “Uh huh.” Her head finally cleared and she smiled down at John; he looked so adorable, lying there breathless and rumpled, his hair pointing in every direction. “What did you do to me?”

 

He made a show of searching around the pillows and bedclothes.

 

“What are you doing?”  Mick giggled.

 

“Looking for your brains,” he answered with mock seriousness, then a mischievous smile formed on his lips, and he wrapped his arms around Mick, pulling her down beside him. “You might want Dr. Early to take a look at you; you might not recover from that.”

 

“I don’t want to.” Mick sighed as she snuggled against his smooth chest. “I love you, John Gage,” she whispered softly.

 

John took a deep breath. “I love you, Michaela Marcantonio.” He lifted her chin, holding her gaze with his own. Leaning down to capture her lips with his own, John felt more at peace than he had in a very long time.

 

 

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

 

 

The months flew by, and spring became summer, bringing the usual weather disasters. In late spring, the rains brought mudslides. By summer, the dry winds brought brushfires. By the first of July, the men of A shift were exhausted.

 

Roy continued to put in as much overtime as he could without becoming overly tired and a danger to himself, or his coworkers. Johnny helped out as he’d promised, coming to Joanne’s rescue several times when the washing machine had overflowed and when the station wagon’s battery had died. He cut the grass, trimmed the hedges, fixed some broken shingles and generally did a lot of the “honey-do” jobs that Roy simply couldn’t take care of at the time. Mick had no problem with Johnny’s new responsibilities, and tagged along whenever her schedule would allow.

 

The birth of the foals had been hectic, occurring within a week of each other, but they’d arrived healthy and soon adapted to the herd. John weaned them from their dams at four months of age, with plans to send them to Montana in two more months. In exchange, he would acquire the two brood mares his cousin picked from his own herd of Paints, named Ayasha and Nahimana.

 

The DeSoto’s annual summer cookout had been a station tradition for several years, and Joanne insisted they carry on despite her advanced pregnancy. She was near the end of her third trimester. The summer heat, which had been especially oppressive this year, had taken its toll as Jo found herself tiring much more easily than she had at this point with her previous pregnancies. Between her generalized swelling and lack of energy, she was miserable every time she went outdoors. Preferring to stay inside where the air conditioning kept her more comfortable, she relied on John and Mick even more.

 

Despite her discomfort, Jo very vocally objected when John suggested they hold the cookout at his ranch instead. Thoroughly chastised, he had graciously withdrawn his offer before she really got angry. Roy apologized later, blaming heat and hormones for his wife’s outburst. As usual, John shrugged it off in his typical good-natured way.

 

            The morning of the cookout, Roy arrived home to find Jo flying about the house, readying the food and decorations.

 

            “Honey, tell me what to do to help. You need to slow down, or you’ll be burned-out by the time everyone gets here.” He gently snagged her arm as she passed, and made her sit in his favorite recliner.

 

            “But, Roy,” Jo began to protest, “I have to finish the potato salad and the tossed salad and I can’t find the hot dog buns for the kids, and…”

 

“And, nothing. Just stop, Jo. It’s only nine-fifteen. No one will even be here until noon.” He popped into the kitchen and poured a glass of iced tea and took it to his stressed-out wife. “You sit here and drink this, and you are not to move for at least thirty minutes…do you understand?” His voice was firm, but kind.

 

Jo realized Roy was right; she was trembling with fatigue already, having been going full steam since six-thirty. Smiling with gratitude, she quipped, “Roy, if I drink this entire glass, I’ll have to move in thirty minutes.”

 

            Roy laughed. “Okay, potty breaks are a legitimate excuse.” He grew serious again. “But, honey, you have to pace yourself. If you’re too tired, you won’t be able to enjoy the rest of the day, right?”

 

            “You’re right. And, thank you for making me stop.” Jo sipped her cold drink and sighed. “What would I do without you?”

 

            “I’ll make sure you never find out.” He kissed her forehead, and proceeded to the kitchen to find the missing buns. A few minutes later, the phone rang. “Don’t move!” he shouted before Jo could respond to the ringing. “I’ll get it.” Crossing the kitchen to the wall-mounted extension, he answered, “Hello?”

 

            Jo heard Roy lower his voice, his words unintelligible. She waited until she heard him hang up and resume rifling through the pantry. A few minutes later, she softly padded into the room. “Roy, who called just now?”

 

            “Aha!” Roy spun around, triumphantly holding two packages of hot dog buns. “I found ‘em!”

 

“My hero. So, who was it that called?” She took the buns from his hands with a smirk at the ‘who me?’ look in his eyes. “Why the secrecy?”

 

            “It’s no secret. I just didn’t want you to know yet that Johnny and Mick won’t be here early like they planned.” Roy hoped the news wouldn’t send Jo back into high gear.

 

            “Is something wrong?” Jo started to worry.

 

            “Yes and no…apparently they got into a bit of an argument; he didn’t say what it was about, only that Michaela was upset about something. He’s, uh, trying to patch things up, so he didn’t know just what time they’d get here, if at all.” Roy sighed loudly. “I hope they can work it out, whatever it is. He says she can be awful volatile.”

 

            “Oh, Roy, I don’t think she’s as emotional as he makes her out to be. I never get that impression from her.” Jo started to chop some onions she’d left on the counter. “Can you get the celery out of the crisper for me?”

 

            “I don’t think it’s been thirty minutes yet," Roy warned, but opened the refrigerator anyway and retrieved the celery.

 

            “Close enough for government work. You know potato salad needs to sit awhile first to make the flavors come out.” Jo dumped the chopped onions into the bowl with the potatoes. “I just hope Johnny and Michaela can make it today. It’d be a shame if they missed the party because of an argument.”

 

            “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll kiss and make up.” And probably do a few other things that’ll make ‘em late. He smirked to himself, remembering what Johnny said once about starting fights just so they could have make-up sex. He looked at his watch. Better make it a quickie, Gage.

 

Jo seemed lost in thought as she chopped. “Roy, what do you think of Michaela? Do you think she’s right for Johnny?”

 

            “Far as I can tell. They seem to get along when they’re here, and he sure has mellowed since she moved in. Chet was complaining the other day that Johnny’s no fun anymore, since he didn’t go ballistic over his last round of water bombs.” Roy snickered at the memory. “In fact, Johnny’s gotten good at dodging most of Chet’s gags lately. He must be developing some kind of sixth sense about them.”

 

            “It’s probably just a phase.” She started chopping the celery. “Do you think they’ll get married?”

 

            “I don’t know. I think they’re comfortable like they are for now. Neither one seems ready to make that kind of commitment yet.”

 

            “I think living together is a commitment. I wonder what’s holding them back?”

 

            “Who knows what goes on in Gage’s head? That’s one tangled ball of yarn I wouldn’t want to delve into. Not without a full battalion backing me up.”

 

 Part 2