This is an alternate ending to the episode ‘To Buy Or Not To Buy’

When There's No One to Blame

by

Jill Hargan

The world spun crazily, and John Gage had to shut his eyes against the streaks of color that danced before them. Even in the dizzying gyration, his mind tried to sort the images out. Red - red was the engine, sitting safely on the ground far below - too far. Green - the trees that surrounded the brown patch of dirt underneath him. Blue - that was the sky as he swung up to meet it briefly then twirled away in another direction. And gray - there was entirely too much gray - that was the concrete pillars of the bridge as they flashed by too closely.

Johnny knew what all the colors were, but they wouldn't stay in one place long enough for him to get oriented. The growing sense of nausea watching them caused was only one more problem to deal with, and he didn't need any more problems at the moment. For now, his only concern was the boy in his arms and how he was going to hold on to him.

Though it had only been a few moments, it seemed to the dizzy paramedic that they had been spinning here for an eternity. Already the muscles in Johnny's arms felt like they were being torn apart. The kid, Peter, had passed out after his seizure had taken them both off the bridge before Johnny had been able to get a belt on him and was now dead weight. Between the hundred plus pounds pulling at his arms and the drag at his waist from his own life line, Johnny felt like he was literally being ripped in half. Add to that, the fact he was twirling like some crazed puppet on a string and he knew he was in a world of trouble.

Amazed that his brain was still able to function, Johnny distantly heard his own voice shouting to Roy, telling his partner to drop him, and he wondered how he'd managed to think straight enough to say anything at all. Roy's answer wavered in and out as the pendulum Johnny dangled from moved him close up then far away. It was hard to hear, but he thought Roy said something about not being able to bring them up. He didn't catch the rest, but whatever Roy wanted to do, it beat swinging here.

"Just do something!" Johnny shouted, hearing the panic in his words as he felt the boy slip a little further from his grasp. "I can't hang onto 'im!"

It was odd. Despite his senses being scrambled, Johnny could hear Roy's grunting efforts as his partner manned the line and worked heroically at lowering the weight that was much too heavy for one person. Amidst the kaleidoscope of sensory input, Johnny managed one more thought - whose strength would hold out the longest, his or Roy's?

An instant later that question no longer mattered. Momentum carried the paramedic and the boy once more toward the bridge, this time slamming Johnny's right shoulder into the concrete.

Everything happened at once. A searing pain shot down his arm, but before Johnny could even cry out, it was replaced by a tingling numbness from his shoulder to his fingers. All at once, he felt a tearing agony in his left arm as Peter's entire weight abruptly shifted. A strangled scream filled Johnny's throat as he struggled valiantly to keep his grip, then, suddenly he was free from the weight as he failed in that fight.

And Peter fell.

Johnny's mouth opened, but no words came out. No cry of protest, no shriek of denial. He watched in mute horror as the fourteen year old boy fell to his death.

Everything was silent now. Even the pain in the paramedic's battered body was a distant thing, as if his mind couldn't deal with it at this moment. The impact with the bridge had checked his insane spinning, and now he merely swung slightly at the end of the rope, both arms dangling uselessly as Roy slowly lowered him down. Johnny was still too far away to hear what was going on below him, but he could see it clearly.

He could see the boy's body sprawled on the ground, the guys moving around him, but unable to do anything to help. He could see Peter's friend being restrained by the policeman who had first responded to the call, and watched as Scotty finally led the teen to his squad car, out of sight of his dead friend. He saw when Cap at last covered the boy with one of the yellow blankets out of the squad. It was that bright patch that held Johnny's focus as he gradually grew closer to the ground. He couldn't take his eyes off of it, though his ears were picking up sounds now, bits and pieces of things that really didn't register.

... a little more, Roy... that's it ... coroner's on his way ... called his parents ... need a stokes over here, Mike ... hang in there, John, almost down ... watch that arm, Chet ... s'okay now, John, we've got ya...

He was down. Johnny felt his feet touch the earth momentarily before he was swept off them again to be laid gently on the ground. Someone took his helmet off his head, but he couldn't say who. He knew it was one of the guys, but he couldn't stop looking at the yellow blanket long enough to see who was doing what to him. He knew he hurt. Even though they were trying to be gentle, they couldn't help jostling him some as they undid his belt and lowered him down, and he heard a groan escape his lips. It, too, was a distant thing, as if someone else had made the sound.

John? John, ya with us, pal?

It was Cap's voice. Johnny knew that, but he didn't answer - he couldn't. The blanket held him mesmerized. It had changed. Crimson red now contrasted against the bright yellow as blood seeped out from under the thin covering.

Did he hit his head?

That was Chet - his voice speaking his concern loud and clear. Still Johnny couldn't respond.

Didn't look like it from here, but he may have. Marco, go tell Roy to make it snappy.

Right, Cap.

Running feet faded away.

John?

What's wrong with him, Cap?

John... John, can you hear me?

A hand moved in front of his eyes, momentarily blocking his view. Johnny blinked as it drew near then felt relieved when it left his field of vision clear.

He's reactive at least. Mike, let Rampart know what's going on.

Right, Cap. Rampart, this is Rescue 51...

Johnny tuned out Mike's voice, and Morton's filtered response. He couldn't find the energy to care right now.

He heard the footsteps returning at a run.

Johnny?

Even though it was Roy's controlled-panic voice, it was still somewhat comforting to hear his partner as he slid to a stop and knelt down.

Johnny... talk to me, pal. Tell me what's goin' on.

He couldn't. He didn't know why, but he couldn't find his voice.

Roy continued talking to him, falling into his best soothing-paramedic tone as he began his assessment of Johnny's injuries. Roy was gentle, causing slight pain only when he examined Johnny's arms and shoulders. It wasn't until his partner parked himself at Johnny's head to talk to Rampart that Johnny was put out at all. He couldn't see the yellow blanket now, and he frowned slightly.

He wanted Roy to move, to get out of his way, but it would have required too much effort to ask. He was fast falling into a strange lethargy. The world around him was slowing down, and he was too tired to watch anymore. With a long sigh, Johnny closed his eyes and shut out everything around him.

* * *

Roy sat on the jump seat of the ambulance staring with concern at his unmoving partner. The backboard and C-collar were precautionary since no one on the ground could tell for sure if Johnny had hit his head, but he wasn't presenting any signs of head trauma other than his lack of vocal response. His eyes were still closed, but Roy was positive Johnny wasn't unconscious.

The senior paramedic had done everything he'd been told; Brackett had suddenly been the one on the other end of the biophone. Roy had spared one fleeting thought to wonder what had happened to Morton, but he didn't dwell on it. It really didn't make a difference at this end. There wasn't much Roy could do, except establish a precautionary IV and package Johnny for transport. There hadn't been anything he could do for the kid.

Leaning his head back against the jostling window, Roy sighed deeply and immediately regretted it. A sharp pain lanced through his right rib cage. He let his breath out cautiously, then waited a moment. The pain subsided.

Probably just bruised, he decided. As the anchor for the life line, he'd been jerked into the pillar pretty hard - so hard that he'd had the wind knocked out of him, and it had been all he could do to hang onto the rope. Roy's one thought had been to keep Johnny and the boy from both plunging to their deaths. They hadn't been able to set up a good relay. The girth of the pillars prevented more than a rudimentary mooring that, when put to the test, was not enough to keep the full weight off Roy.

When it came down to it, Roy hadn't even seen most of what happened after the kid started his seizure. His view had been blocked, and the weight on the rope had dragged at him so heavily that his only concern had been the slow, methodical playing out he'd been trying to control. He'd heard Johnny call out to him, telling him to hurry. The senior paramedic knew he would never be able to erase the sound of the fear in his partner's voice. Johnny was in trouble and the only thing Roy could do to help was to keep the rope from slipping out of his hands.

Automatically, Roy flexed his fingers. They were stiff and sore, and a deep, red impression ran across them, but his gloves had protected them from worse damage. And the block of concrete had protected him from the sight of Peter falling - a sight Johnny had seen only too clearly.

Roy recalled vividly the feeling in the pit of his stomach the moment the weight on the rope lightened. He knew immediately what had happened. He hadn't needed to see it. His heart sank as he suddenly had much more control of Johnny's life line. There had been no sound from his partner, and all Roy could do was lower Johnny as quickly as possible down to the grisly scene that awaited them on the ground.

Then Roy still had to make his way down, climbing carefully, cautiously finding each foot and hand hold - his mind screaming at him to hurry - Johnny would need him - Johnny shouldn't have to face the tragedy alone. And then Marco was hollering - yelling for him to hustle, that Johnny was hurt. Roy didn't even remember the rest of his descent. All he knew was that he had to get down to the ground.

The ambulance hit a pothole and bounced heavily, jarring Roy on the hard seat. He grabbed his side and grimaced at the pain, but immediately forgot about it when he noticed Johnny's eyes were open.

"Hey, there," Roy smiled down at his partner, glad to see him more aware. "You gonna stay with me?"

It took a moment for Johnny to make eye contact. Unable to move his head, his gaze darted frantically around the interior of the ambulance, almost as if he were looking for something. When he finally let his eyes meet Roy's, it was obvious he was on the verge of panic.

Roy reached down and took hold of his friend's hand. In spite of the injuries to his arms, Johnny's grip was strong.

"It's okay, Johnny," Roy offered soothingly. "You know the rules. I had to strap you down. You can probably tell your arms are injured, but I don't think there's any real problems with your neck or back."

Johnny blinked once and seemed to relax a bit, but he didn't let go of Roy's hand.

"Can ya talk to me, Junior?" Roy asked quietly.

Johnny stared at him intently. Roy couldn't read the emotion in the brown eyes, but the grip on his hand never loosened.

* * *

The emergency room at Rampart General Hospital was normally a busy place, and some days bordered on barely organized chaos. Dixie McCall, head nurse, prided herself on being able to handle even the worst situations with a calm professionalism, but there were times when it was hard not to react personally. This was one of those times.

Dixie was fond of all the paramedics who worked out of Rampart. She knew injury was a risk of their job, but it always hit her hard when someone she cared about was brought in, especially these young men who risked their lives on a regular basis for a public who had wasted no time in taking the fledgling program for granted. For the veteran nurse, even five years couldn't dim the admiration and respect she held for these underpaid, unappreciated public servants, who, in her eyes at least, were true heroes.

Now, as she saw the bay doors swing open, and the gurney bearing John Gage wheeling down the hall, she felt that same knot in her stomach she got every time one of her "boys" was hurt. She'd been filled in on what happened by Mike Morton, who was manning the base station. Johnny's injuries were not life threatening, but Dixie knew the rescue had gone terribly wrong. One look at Roy's face as he strode down the hall alongside his partner and Dixie knew this wasn't going to be an easy fix.

She motioned them into Treatment three just as Kel appeared beside her.

"Bring him on in, guys," Dr. Brackett ordered tersely as he walked in ahead of the attendants.

Dixie held the door until everyone had entered. Just as she went in and let the doors close she caught a glimpse of turnout coats and grim faces out in the hall, and she knew the engine crew had followed the squad in.

She moved over to help with Johnny just as he was being transferred to the exam table. The attendants did their job quickly then wheeled their gurney out the door. Roy, however, never moved from his partner's side. Dixie smiled inwardly at that as she quickly removed Johnny's shoes, sock and pants. Roy seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing when his presence was required and when Johnny would rather be alone. Right now, apparently, Johnny needed his friend.

She carefully monitored Johnny's vitals as Dr. Brackett did a thorough examination. Kel was an excellent doctor, but sometimes let himself get so caught up in doing his job, that once in a while he had to be reminded to turn on his bedside manner. Because of that, he'd earned himself a reputation of being brusque. Watching him right now, however, Dixie saw no hint of that gruffness. As Kel's hands did their work, he kept up a reassuring conversation with Johnny, pausing apologetically whenever his probing elicited a groan from the dark haired paramedic.

"Everything looks good with your head and neck, John," Kel stated in a reassuring tone. "But I'm going to order a skull and spinal series just to be on the safe side. Then we can get you out of that collar. I'm pretty certain you've got a proximal fracture of your right humerus. The pictures will show us if your shoulder is involved at all." He moved over to Johnny's left side. "This one I'm not sure of. Doesn't appear fractured, but you obviously wrenched it pretty good. Might be some ligament damage. We'll see what the film shows before we make any decisions on it."

Other than his reactions to pain, Johnny hadn't made a sound during the entire time. Finished with his initial exam, Kel glanced up, his face unreadable, but Dixie knew him well enough to recognize his concern. She caught his eye and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Kel merely shook his head, signaling that now wasn't the time to go into it.

The treatment room doors opened as the X-ray technician wheeled the portable machine into the room. Dr. Brackett moved over to speak to the man. Dixie took that time to lay a reassuring hand on Johnny's forehead, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"We'll be in the hall," she told him with a warm smile. She took hold of Roy's arm, meaning to lead him outside, but stopped when Johnny became agitated, his hands scrabbling at the table, the parts of his body not strapped down moving restlessly.

Before she had time to question Johnny's behavior, Roy stepped in ahead of her. He took his partner's hand in his.

"It's okay," he told his friend. "We're just gonna step out for a minute so they can take the pictures. You wouldn't want us to glow in the dark now, would ya?"

Roy's tone was light and seemed just what Johnny needed. The younger man's dark eyes shone with a gratitude Dixie had no trouble reading.

"Let's go, people," Kel announced, and herded them out of the room.

It took another moment for Roy to let go of Johnny's hand, then they walked out into the hallway...

...and into a barrage of questions.

After a few moments of confusion, Dr. Brackett finally held up his hands for quiet. All four firemen settled into a grudging silence, their faces still troubled.

"Okay, guys, I know you're worried," Kel began. "Right now we're taking care of Johnny's physical injuries. His right arm's probably fractured, his left... well, if he's torn the ligaments in his shoulder, he may require surgery to repair them. Basically, he's looking at a few months recovery time."

"But why isn't he talking?" Chet burst out at Brackett's first pause. "I mean... that just ain't Gage."

"What about that, Doc?" Captain Stanley asked. "From where we were, it sure didn't look like he hit his head or anything."

Kel shook his head. "I don't think he did either. There was no sign of any kind of head trauma."

"Then why..."

The doctor held up his hand again to forestall the question. "I don't have any answers for you yet. You're just going to have to be patient. Once John's X-rays are done, and we can make him more comfortable, I'm going to have Joe Early come in and do a neurological check on him."

"But you don't think he'll find anything," Roy at last spoke up, his tone even, but his face pensive.

Kel shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so. I think Johnny's inability to speak is stemming more from a psychological cause than a physical one."

"Are you saying Gage is crazy?" Chet blurted out again, his eyes wide. He ignored the glares he got from his shift mates. Dixie knew that even though Chet may not have expressed himself very delicately, his concern was genuine.

Kel's mouth twitched slightly as he considered how to answer. "I didn't say that," he finally replied. "Look fellas, I'm not an expert in this field, but I do know people react very differently to traumatic situations. From all you've told me, what happened out in the field today was pretty horrific." Five heads nodded in silent agreement. "I feel strongly that Johnny is just responding to that... shutting down for a while so he can process the experience."

"So what do we do?" Roy asked quietly.

Kel gave them all a slight smile meant to reassure. "We take it one day at a time. Once we get him settled in a room, I'm going to give him something to help him sleep. Who knows, maybe in the morning he'll be his old self again."

"What if he's not?" Chet challenged, still not willing to be pacified.

"Then we play it by ear... give John a few days. If he's not better after that... well, then maybe we'll need to bring in someone else."

"You mean a psychiatrist?" Stoker spoke up from the back of the group.

Kel gave a grudging nod. "Possibly. But, let's not jump the gun, guys. Johnny may just surprise us and be up and bouncing off the walls tomorrow."

Dixie watched as each man digested Kel's words. They didn't look completely satisfied, but at least they were somewhat appeased. Captain Stanley shook the doctor's hand, had a few words for Roy, then led his men outside. They were still on duty, but Dixie knew they would be back when they were off, keeping a vigil for their friend. She turned to Roy.

"What about you? You free to hang around?"

"For now." Roy smiled and held up the HT. "Cap's gonna call me if he can get someone to finish the shift for both me and Johnny. If not... well, I'd still have to wait for a new partner anyway. I might as well do it here."

Just then the door opened and the technician wheeled the machine out.

"I need those films STAT," Dr. Brackett ordered tersely. The man nodded and hurried off.

* * *

Johnny lay on the exam table, staring up at the stark white ceiling. Things had come into a little better focus. He knew he was at Rampart and that everyone seemed very concerned about him, but he hadn't gone very far past that. Thankfully, the C-collar and backboard were gone. He hated the feeling of being so completely restrained. He could move his head and neck more freely, though once he'd suffered through the orthopedist's visit, and having his right arm, from shoulder to wrist, encased in plaster and bound to his torso, he wasn't a whole lot better off. At least they'd left his other arm alone for now, though he knew he was probably in for some surgery. Both of them still hurt like hell, and Johnny wished they would at least get him into a more comfortable bed.

Then Dr. Early showed up. Johnny tried his best to cooperate as the kindly neurologist put him through his paces. In the doc's slow, methodical way, he examined Johnny's eyes and ears. He checked the reflexes in his legs and feet. Johnny performed all the required tasks - moving this and that and looking up, down, and every which way. He'd had several neuro checks before and he knew the drill.

Finished with that part, the white haired doctor pulled up a stool and sat down at eye level with his patient. He smiled and patted the paramedic's hand reassuringly.

"I just want to ask you some questions, Johnny," he said, then chuckled. "You should know them by now." His eyes were caring and concerned as he started at the top of the list.

"Can you tell me your name?"

John Gage.

But the words hadn't come out. He felt stupid laying there gaping like a fish, so he shut his mouth. Dr. Early frowned slightly and repeated the question.

Again, Johnny tried to answer, but it was as if his voice wasn't there.

What's happening? What's wrong with me?

He tried again, the panic he felt threatened to overpower him.

I know my name. Doc, I wanna answer, but I can't. What's happening?

His agitation must have been apparent, for Dr. Early patted his leg lightly.

"It's okay, Johnny, don't worry. It's okay."

No it's not, Doc. Something's going on here. Tell me what's wrong with me.

But the older doctor had turned away and was unable to see the questions in Johnny's eyes.

"I'll want to do an CAT scan," he said to Dr. Brackett. "Just to rule out any possible neurological connections, but I'm fairly certain there won't be any." He returned his attention to the injured paramedic.

"Johnny, just try and relax. We're going to figure everything out. I'm going to ask you a few more questions, but you can just nod yes or no." He offered another encouraging smile.

Johnny swallowed, trying to fight the fear that had seized him, when he suddenly felt someone take his hand. He glanced at his other side to see Roy standing there, silently offering his support. Johnny gripped his partner's hand tightly and focused on what Dr. Early was saying.

"Do you know your name?"

Johnny nodded, and the neurologist smiled.

"Good. Did you hit your head at all in the accident?"

Johnny shook his head emphatically. He knew he hadn't hit his head.

"That's good, too. I guess that's all for now." He walked away from the exam table and spoke quietly to Brackett.

Johnny watched the two men confer and wished they were talking loud enough for him to hear. He hated that they were talking about him, but not to him. There were a lot of things he wanted to know, mostly what the hell had happened to his voice. But Dr. Early left the room without another word.

Johnny lay there feeling totally helpless. His arms were killing him and he decided to stop trying to respond to questions. It was too frightening to open his mouth and have nothing come out. He had a sudden flash of recall - could hear Chet distinctly telling him his mouth wasn't connected to his brain, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

They must have finally finished with him, for Dixie was suddenly there with a shot of Demerol, taking away the last of the pain and making him comfortably drowsy. He didn't know how much longer it took, but at last he was lifted up off the table onto a gurney for the trip upstairs.

"Okay, Johnny," Dixie's voice floated into his groggy senses. "We're going to get you settled in for the night."

He felt himself moving and watched the faces go by until he saw Roy's. Something half-forgotten suddenly pushed itself into his drugged awareness. He grabbed at Dixie's hand, wincing at the movement in his left shoulder. But it worked. The gurney stopped.

"What's wrong?" Dixie's face bent closer.

Johnny stared hard into her eyes, then let go of her hand and pointed at Roy. His partner appeared confused at his gesture.

"Roy's going along with you," Dixie assured him, mistakenly assuming he was worried Roy wouldn't be allowed to accompany him.

Johnny shook his head. It was hard to think with the drugs taking hold of him.

"What's the hold up?"

Brackett's voice sounded hollow to John's ears.

"Johnny doesn't want to go yet," Roy explained, his voice sounding fuzzy too. "He's trying to tell us something."

It took a great deal of effort for Johnny to focus. His body, lulled by the drugs, wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but this was too important, and he fought to make them understand. Knowing he wouldn't feel much pain right now, he managed to lift his left arm and lay his hand on his ribs. He made a slight motion against them, then dragged his arm away and again pointed at Roy.

It was quiet for a time, and he feared they still hadn't figured it out, when suddenly Dixie smiled knowingly and moved over to stand next to Roy.

"So, Mr. DeSoto, you want to let the doctor examine your ribs?"

Roy's eyebrows climbed high as Brackett came over to investigate.

"Were you hurt, Roy?" he asked. "We only thought..."

Roy shook his head, his face red. "It's nothing. Just some bruises. I was the anchor and when they went over..." He shot Johnny a scrutinizing glance. "I thought you had your eyes closed."

Johnny gave him a smile made lazy with the pain killers.

"Come on, Roy," Brackett ordered. "We'll get you checked out. I guess we tend to forget there's always somebody on the other end of the rope."

Johnny watched as the doctor opened the door. Roy started to follow reluctantly, but he paused and turned to wag his finger at his partner. "I'll get you for this," he warned with a smile.

Johnny offered up a lopsided grin, satisfied that Roy would be taken care of. He closed his eye and gave into the bliss of sleep.

* * *

Roy sat on the side of the exam table, buttoning up his shirt. The tape around his rib cage had eased the twinges of pain that had started getting worse once he'd admitted to everyone that he might have been injured.

"Well, the good news is we can't see any fractures," Brackett informed him, from where he stood studying Roy's X-rays. "Just some deep bruising. Although I'm sure they hurt as much as if they were cracked."

Roy shook his head and gingerly slid off the table. "Not so much now," he stated.

Brackett gave him a tight smile. "I'll give you a prescription for an anti-inflammatory... and a pain killer, you might have a bit of trouble getting comfortable when you sleep. You should probably take your next shift off, just to give them a chance to heal."

"Guess I should let Cap know," Roy said quietly. He chuckled wryly. "He's gonna chew on me some though, for not telling him I was hurt."

Brackett's smile grew a little wider. "He's a captain. Chewing on his men is his job."

Roy laughed, then winced. "I should know better than that," he admitted ruefully, holding his hand at his side. After a moment, he grew more serious. "So you think Johnny will sleep through the night?"

Brackett nodded soberly. "That's what I'm hoping. I want him to get a good night's sleep. Dr. Murphy will do the shoulder repair tomorrow if Johnny's up for it. The sooner he gets those ligaments reattached, the faster they'll heal."

Roy pondered that information; it wasn't really what he'd meant. He knew his partner's physical injuries would heal given enough time. He met Brackett's eyes and realized the doctor was well aware what he'd been asking about.

"It's like I told the rest of the guys, Roy. We just have to wait and see."

"That's easy to say, Doc," Roy allowed, "But it's hard not to worry. I keep wondering what Johnny's going through... what he's feeling and thinking. I mean... at first he was kind of out of it, but later... in the ambulance, he... well he seemed kind of scared... like he didn't know what was happening to him. I don't think he even realized he couldn't talk until Dr. Early started asking him questions."

"He was in shock, Roy. It's natural for him to experience some disorientation. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't really remember the accident right now. What we have to hope for is that his mind will heal along with his body."

Roy's mouth twisted thoughtfully. "I sure hope you're right," he replied." He made an effort to lift his mood. "Well, I'll get back to the station and fill them in. Then I'll go home and let Joanne know what's going on. Call me if anything..."

"Believe me, Roy, I will."

Roy opened the door and started to leave, but he paused and turned back to the doctor. Before he could even open his mouth, however, Brackett beat him to the punch.

"He's up in Orthopedics, room 412. But he's probably asleep."

Roy smiled his thanks. "I won't stay long," he promised.

* * *

Johnny tried desperately to cling to the rope, but his sweat-soaked hands couldn't keep their grip. He slid lower and lower, all the while swinging wildly over a surging sea of yellow. He wasn't exactly sure what it was that spread out below him, but he knew with a firm certainty if he fell into it he would die. He reached up, trying to get a better hold, but he slid several more feet towards the end of his lifeline.

He tried to call to Roy, but he couldn't make any sound, even though he kept opening his mouth. He knew if he could only call Roy's name, his partner would haul him to safety. It was up to him to let Roy know he needed help, but he couldn't get the words to come out.

His hands slipped a little more - a few feet closer to that billowing, yellow sea. Even as frightened as he was, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Its churning motion held him mesmerized. And then he ran out of rope and he was falling into the suffocating brightness of the yellow void.

His mind screamed for help, but his voice was still silent. He struggled to find a way out, but there was no where to go. If he could only call out, cry for help, but nothing happened.

And then suddenly everything began to turn from yellow to crimson, cutting a stark contrast in the ocean of brightness. Johnny suddenly found he could run and he tried to flee from the onrush of the red tide. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn't get away from it. It came at him, faster and faster, until it finally loomed over him, threatening to engulf him completely.

There was nothing he could do. He threw himself down, covered his head and waited to be swallowed up. Two words kept playing over and over in his head.

I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

And the red wave came crashing down on him.

Johnny's eyes shot open, and he gasped in a great gulp of air. He was drenched in sweat, and it took a moment to remember where he was, but he finally recognized the medical equipment in the room.

Rampart... I'm at Rampart... it was just a dream. Probably the drugs.

He relaxed a little and lay there trying to calm his breathing, waiting for his chest to stop heaving. He was thankful he hadn't been hurt badly enough to be in ICU where he'd have been hooked up to all kinds of monitors. He knew by the way his heart was racing every nurse on the floor would've been in here to check on him. At least he wouldn't have to share this nightmare with anyone. Nobody had to know.

* * *

Roy sat in his recliner nursing the last of his coffee and only half listening to the morning news. His ribs were still pretty sore. Dr. Brackett had been right, it had been difficult to get comfortable last night. Around midnight he'd finally resorted to the pain pills, and he'd been able to get some sleep, but the kids woke him up in their mad rush to get ready for school and after that he'd just gotten up to stay.

Now they were gone, and the house was fairly quiet. Joanne was upstairs straightening up and gathering dirty clothes for the day's round of laundry. Roy was left to his own thoughts, and they kept taking him down paths full of questions.

He kept thinking about Johnny - and about a dead 14 year old boy - and what he might have done differently to keep the events of yesterday from happening. Could they have done things any other way? Should they have left the kid alone? Waited for the snorkel? Should he have told Johnny to back off when the boy became agitated? But they had no way of knowing when he might seize. How could they have justified it if they'd stood around doing nothing, and the boy had fallen.

But he'd fallen anyway, and he'd taken Johnny with him - in more ways than the obvious one.

Roy flexed his hands, studying the tender impressions still there. Could he have possibly gotten the rope under control - stopped it from spinning? He had no doubt that if Johnny hadn't hit the bridge, he would have managed to hang onto Peter until they reached the ground.

He let out a sigh, wincing a bit at the movement. He knew he could sit here and beat himself up over it all, but it wouldn't help anybody. There wasn't anything he could do now for the boy, but Roy would do all he could for his partner.

He and Joanne were going to Rampart in about an hour. Brackett had called first thing this morning. Johnny's speech hadn't returned, but his surgery was on. Roy wanted to be there. He couldn't rid his mind of the image of Johnny in the ambulance - frightened and confused, unable to reach out, with either word or touch. Roy didn't want that to happen again. If Johnny could derive any comfort from Roy's presence, then he wanted to be sure his friend knew he was there, before the surgery and after.

And there was something else Roy's mind kept dredging up - the memory of his last words to Johnny before they left on the run to the bridge. He had been mad at his partner. Mad, incensed, indignant - all those words to describe how he felt about Johnny buying the house out from under him. That house - that stupid, idiotic house. Because of it, he'd told his partner, his best friend, that he might never get over being angry at him.

It was hard to believe how the whole thing had started. Roy had only mentioned in passing that he was thinking about buying a house. After that it had seemed like everyone he knew had an opinion on the subject, whether pro or con. Johnny had been the loudest of all his supporters, egging him on to at least go and take a look.

So he had. Without even consulting Joanne, Roy had let Johnny talk him into going with Chet's realtor friend and looking at a house. And what a house! It had everything his family could need, would give them plenty of room, a workshop, a huge back yard, and it was the right price. But Roy was a cautious soul. He never jumped into anything without careful consideration. He told the realtor he'd think about it, in a safely neutral tone. He didn't want to appear too eager and spoil the deal.

He'd talked to Joanne about it that night, had taken his two days off to weigh all the possibilities and had at last decided it was the right move for his family. Then, when he'd called the broker, he'd discovered the house had been bought. His wonderful, perfect house had slipped through his fingers.

He was mad. Mad at the realtor for not holding it for him, mad at the new owner for daring to buy his house, and mad at himself for waiting too long, for being too damn careful and not taking a risk one time in his life.

Roy didn't ordinarily vent his problems at work, but that morning he had. He'd been telling Chet all about what had happened when Johnny walked in, all smiles and full of good news. After that, everything had gone down hill, fast.

Johnny's good mood had winked out like a shooting star as soon as he knew why Roy was upset, and Roy's normally chatterbox partner suddenly couldn't find anything to say. It had all come out then, and Roy couldn't remember ever being so angry with the junior half of their partnership.

Johnny stammered out some lame excuses about just going out there to check it out for Roy, but the older paramedic wasn't ready to listen, and he wasn't feeling very forgiving. Even when Johnny had tried to lighten the mood and tell him he would get over the whole thing, Roy had stubbornly refused to give an inch.

The tones had sounded, ending the conversation, but later, after they'd lost the boy and Johnny was hurt, the thought had flashed across Roy's mind - what if? What if he'd lost his hold on the line and Johnny had fallen too? What if those words had been the last Johnny ever heard from him? Could he have lived with that? Was a house he had to be persuaded and cajoled into even considering worth a lifetime of regrets?

No. He would make a point as soon as things settled down to put things right with Johnny. He only hoped Johnny could find a way to make himself all right.

The image on the news brought Roy out of his reverie. There was a picture of Peter Baker, obviously a school photo. It moved into the corner of the screen, letting the viewer see the bridge. Roy got up and turned up the volume to hear what was being said.

Fourteen year old Peter Baker fell to his death yesterday from the Johnson Canyon Bridge. The freshman at Narbonne High School was being tied off by rescue personnel when he apparently experienced an epileptic seizure. Paramedics tried to restrain him, but the boy lost his balance. According to a spokesman from the County Fire Department, the paramedic on the bridge with him was injured during the rescue attempt and was unable to hold onto the boy. Services are scheduled to be held...

The reporter went on to expound on the rise of gasoline prices expected for the summer. Roy switched off the set. That was it. A few minutes coverage. A boy was dead, and Johnny was hurt, but for the rest of the world there were more important things to worry about.

* * *

Johnny opened his eyes and blinked in the bright morning sun. The first thing he did was to try his voice. He struggled to form a word, a sound - nothing. He cleared his throat and tried again, with no results. He swallowed hard, not wanting to think about what would happen if he never talked again. The doctors so far had avoided bringing it up, but Johnny knew they were all worried.

He tried to think about what he would say if he could talk for just one more minute. What would he say, and who would he say it to?

That's easy. I'd tell Roy he could have the house.

He meant it too. He was sorry for making Roy mad and never meant to go behind his partner's back. Johnny guessed that would take up more than a minute. He sighed heavily. Even if he could talk, he didn't think he could explain to Roy why he had impulsively bought that dumb house.

How could he tell Roy without sounding stupid that he'd gotten so excited about the place for Roy and his family - how he could envision Chris and Jenny out in the yard and on the swing set under the trees. How, all the extra room made him think of Joanne not having to complain about not having places to put things. Johnny could see Roy tinkering in the workshop. So many things about the place just called out for his partner's family, but Roy had seemed so... so uninterested.

And so, Johnny had gone out there by himself - meaning only to have one more look, but somehow had found himself a homeowner. But it hadn't been for himself. Somehow Johnny had convinced himself that he was buying it for Roy - for sometime in the future when Roy would see that he really needed it.

Then he'd come to work - in a great mood, ready to spring the surprise - but Roy had been so upset - so angry - so unlike the Roy he knew. And suddenly all Johnny's logic seemed so... so flawed. And Chet had been there, too. How could Johnny even try and explain his actions with Kelly standing there, ready to turn everything Johnny said upside down and sideways.

And so Johnny had stuttered and stammered and tried to apologize, but Roy wasn't having any of it. There had been few times in their partnership when Roy was actually out and out angry with him, but this was definitely one of them. Then the tones sounded and then - well, then everything had happened and Johnny never had the chance to resolve things with his friend.

He sighed again. Life was always full of what if's. He couldn't go back and change the past, but he decided as soon as he could, he would try and make things all right again with his partner.

Johnny glanced out the window at the clear blue sky and resolved not to let it get him down. Today had to be a better day. For starters, his arms didn't hurt as much. The right one really didn't bother him at all, except for not being able to move it. His left was still a bit sore, but nothing like it had been yesterday after the surgery.

Johnny was still strapped up pretty good. They had some kind of harness wrapped about his left shoulder and arm, effectively pinning it to his side. So, though he had free use of his hand, he couldn't reach for anything. But still, he knew he was on the mend.

The other thing that gave Johnny hope for a good day was that he was hungry. Yesterday, between the pain and the residual nausea from the anesthesia, he hadn't eaten much at all. The guys had come and visited him throughout the day, but he hadn't really felt like company. Johnny knew it was hard on them to try and visit when they could only hold a one way conversation, so none of them had stayed long. He didn't blame them. They'd tried to act normal, but he could tell it was a strain, and it was almost a relief when they'd left.

Roy and Joanne had stayed longer, but it was a school night and the kids needed to be picked up from the neighbors in time for baths and bed. They'd finally gone home around seven. Johnny had slept some after that, but another nightmare jolted him awake around 3 a.m. It had taken a while to get back to sleep, but in the light of the new day, the fear of the dream faded.

His stomach growled, and the paramedic hoped that they'd bring breakfast around soon. The fact he was looking forward to hospital food said a lot about just how long it had been since he'd eaten. He could hear the clatter of the cart out in the hall, and he kept hopeful eyes on the door. Before long, he was rewarded, and a pretty young nurse he didn't know carried in his tray.

She was obviously in a hurry. She swept into the room, plunked the plastic tray down onto his rolling table, pushed it up to his bed, then was out the door before Johnny even had a chance to glimpse the name on her tag.

He stared after her for a moment, then turned his attention to his breakfast. The main dish was covered with a plastic dome, but he thought he smelled scrambled eggs. He sniffed again. Bacon maybe. He had a dish of fruit covered with Saran Wrap, a cup of coffee with a spill proof lid and a sealed container of juice. Sealed! It just occurred to him that everything had some kind of lid or covering on it, and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to eat it.

Johnny stared at it for a long moment, flexing his fingers, moving his left hand as much as he could, but the food stayed temptingly out of reach. He leaned forward, but the twinge in his tender shoulder halted him before he got very far. Johnny lay back on his pillows, out of breath from the exertion and totally frustrated.

Damn! How in the hell does she think I'm gonna eat any of this?

And then he remembered the call button. Roy had made sure it was within his grasp last night before he left for the last time. Silently thanking his friend for his foresight, Johnny pressed the button that would bring help.

It seemed to take longer than he thought it should, but finally the same nurse popped her head into his room.

"Yes, Mr. Gage?" She sounded a bit put out that he'd called. "What do you need?"

Johnny tilted his head in the direction of his breakfast.

What does it look like? I need a little help here.

The girl heaved a sigh of annoyance and moved all the way inside. "There's nothing wrong with the food, Mr. Gage." Her voice was heavy with disapproval. "This isn't exactly a hotel, ya know. This is nutritious and what your doctor ordered for you."

The paramedic gazed at her helplessly, not knowing how to make her understand. At this point he had no beef with the quality of the food, just the accessibility - or lack thereof.

Okay, let's try this again, he thought desperately. See if she can clue in.

He moved his hands as much as he could to get her to notice how restrained he was. He jerked his head at the tray again, this time a little impatiently.

The young woman simply did not understand. Overwhelmed with her duties and too new at her job to know better, she simply took his problem for the long-standing complaint about hospital food. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she grabbed the tray off the table.

"All right then," she informed him primly. "I'll just note on your chart you didn't want to eat it. You can take it up with your doctor."

With that, she rushed out of the room, taking the food with her.

Johnny watched in disbelief as his breakfast disappeared.

Wait! Don't' take that! Come Back!

But the words were only in his head. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. He threw his head back against the pillow and ground his teeth in total frustration.

Damn, damn, damn. What do I do now?

* * *

Roy strode into the Emergency Department at Rampart General. He was eager to see if Johnny was feeling better today, but he always made a point to come in this way to say hi to Dixie or Carol, whomever was on duty. Plus, he wanted to see Brackett before he went up to orthopedics.

Roy was alone. Joanne had been with him most of the time he was here yesterday, but she had PTA obligations today that kept her away, though she sent some of her fresh cinnamon rolls along in apology for her absence. They planned to bring the whole family in this evening, if Johnny was up to it. They'd already sat the kids down and tried to explain in a way they could understand that their Uncle Johnny wouldn't be talking much for a while. Surprisingly, neither Chris nor Jennifer seemed to think it strange. Maybe because kids could admit their fears more readily than adults, they could more easily understand a physical reaction to something scary. In any case, Roy was anxious to see if his friend had made any progress in that area.

He didn't see Dixie, so he figured Carol must be on today. Roy never could keep up with the nurses schedules. Johnny always had them figured out, but then Johnny had a vested interest in knowing which nurse was on duty when and not just from this department. Johnny always seemed to know the rotations on every floor. The only thing Roy knew was that Dixie's shifts usually coincided with their own.

He passed the admitting desk and quickened his pace when he noticed Dr. Brackett over by the elevators, talking to a couple of men. They were easily identifiable as news people from the camera hoisted on the taller man's shoulder. As Roy watched, Brackett made a dismissive gesture, and the men walked reluctantly away. As the doctor turned toward the elevators, Roy trotted over to join him.

"Hey, Doc," Roy greeted. "What was that all about?" he asked curiously.

Brackett scowled. "Reporters," he grumbled. "They wanted to interview Johnny. A follow up to the Peter Baker story."

Roy panicked at the thought of the press getting wind of Johnny's problems. It must have showed on his face, for Brackett held up a calming hand.

"Relax. I didn't give them any particulars. I just told them he wasn't up to it at this time."

"Thanks, Doc," Roy said in relief. "Cap said he was going to kind of gloss over... that problem on the report until we see what happens. Anything new this morning?" he asked hopefully.

Brackett's face took on a pensive look. "Nothing good, I'm afraid."

The doors opened and they both stepped inside. Since they were alone, he continued his report.

"Still no speech, and I just got a call from the charge nurse. Apparently, your partner is refusing to eat."

Roy's eyes widened in surprise. "That doesn't sound like Johnny. I mean, yeah, he complains about the food here, but unless he's unconscious, he usually manages to wolf down everything you guys serve him. You think it's connected to his... well, to whatever's keeping him from talking?"

Brackett shook his head. "It's hard to say. It might be depression setting in. I'm on my way to see him now. Hopefully we'll find out what's bothering him."

Roy glanced at his watch. It was nearly 1:00. He'd purposely waited to visit to give Johnny a chance to sleep as much as he wanted. He knew his partner hadn't felt good yesterday after the surgery and was hoping another night's sleep might make a difference. Now Roy wondered if he should have come sooner.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Roy followed Brackett out onto the Orthopedics floor. As they walked down the hall, Roy studied the doctor's face. He looked like he still had something on his mind. Roy took hold of his arm and stopped them both.

"What is it, Doc?"

Roy knew Kelly Brackett didn't go in much for waltzing around a subject. He wouldn't waste any time on platitudes.

"I'm worried," the older man stated honestly. "I think it's time we called in a specialist."

"You mean the shrink?"

Brackett sighed. "Yeah, the shrink." He gave Roy a wry smile. "Psychiatry isn't voodoo."

"I know," Roy conceded, shrugging self-consciously. "It's just hard to get past certain images."

Now Brackett chuckled. "The couch?" He furrowed his brows and assumed a bad German accent. "Vatch de vatch?" He shook his head. "It's a lot different today," he concluded in his normal voice.

"I know," Roy acknowledged. "And if you think that's what Johnny needs, I guess I'll go along with it. You have somebody in mind?"

He nodded. "Unfortunately, my first choice is out of the country for the next month or so, but there's a new doctor on staff, Brad Wilts. He comes very highly recommended. I sent him Johnny's chart to review. He's agreed to come down and meet with him a little later today."

"And then what?" Roy pressed. "Will he know how to get Johnny to start talking again?"

Dr. Brackett put a hand on Roy's shoulder. "Let's wait and see what he says."

They started walking again and in a moment were at Johnny's room. The door was open, and they stopped at the entrance. Brackett reached up to rap his knuckles on the wood to announce their arrival, but he paused, his hand still in mid air. Roy wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the pitiful sight before him certainly wasn't it.

Johnny was sitting on the bed, bent forward as far as he could go. His arms were both bound to his side, but his left forearm was free to move somewhat, and right now it was trying desperately to reach for the lunch tray that sat tantalizingly just out of his reach. As they watched, Johnny scooted down the bed, his face grimacing at the pain it caused, but even as his grasping fingers tried to clutch at the tray, the movement pushed the rolling table away just enough to take the food out of his reach again. Johnny's face contorted in a mixture of pain and frustration, and he lay back on the bed in defeat. Roy had seen enough.

"Johnny!" He rushed to the side of the bed, pulling the table up close as he came.

His partner opened his eyes in surprise and then his whole face took on a look of such relief that Roy suddenly wanted to find the idiot responsible for this and knock him through a wall. Instead, he settled for lifting the cover off the lunch, meaning to help Johnny eat. He soon discovered that what had once been a semi-tempting hot turkey sandwich was now cold - the bread stale, the gravy congealed. He felt the unopened carton of milk - Johnny's drink of choice. It was room temperature. Obviously, Johnny had been trying to get at it for some time.

Usually slow to anger, Roy could feel it churning inside him. Trying hard to maintain control, he turned to his injured friend. "Is this what happened at breakfast too?"

Johnny had managed to situate himself back on the pillows. He nodded slowly and, for a moment, Roy thought his friend might cry. Instead, he merely closed his eyes again, this time, Roy knew, from the humiliation of not even being able to feed himself. Roy turned to Brackett, but the doctor was already out the door. Somebody's head was going to roll, but at the moment, Roy didn't care. How dense could you be not to realize a man with two injured arms might need some help with his meal?

Hoping that in Brackett's tirade somewhere would be the orders for a new lunch tray, Roy pulled out the paper sack with Joanne's rolls. It still felt warm. He shoved the table with the ruined lunch out of the way.

"Here, Johnny," he offered, as he broke a small piece off and held it out. "This will help tide you over."

Johnny took the bite, not quite meeting Roy's eyes, but Roy could tell it was appreciated. He fed his helpless friend the entire roll before he ventured to say anything.

"It's not your fault, ya know," Roy said quietly, digging out the second bun. "Somebody should have known."

Johnny didn't react. Roy decided there wasn't much else he could say right now, so he kept quiet and continued feeding his partner the rest of the second roll. When he was done, Roy got up and stepped into the bathroom to wash his gooey hands. It occurred to him that Johnny was probably sticky as well. He didn't know how he could wash his friend's face for him without embarrassing Johnny more than he already was. He finally decided to just do it quickly, like it was no big deal. He grabbed a wash rag, wet it and walked back to Johnny's bedside.

"Looks like I made a mess here," he said lightly as he wiped the sugary residue off Johnny's lips and chin.

Johnny didn't look happy, but he didn't turn away. When Roy finished he set the rag down on the tray, out of Johnny's sight. He glanced at his watch, wondering how long it would take to get something more substantial up here.

Just then there was a sound at the door. Roy turned and saw a young nurse coming in with a new tray. As she grew closer, he could see her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying, but he couldn't dredge up much sympathy for her. If she was going to make it in her job, she'd have to learn from this mistake. She'd also have to develop a thick skin to handle irate doctors.

She removed the old tray and set the new one down on the table, then seemed unsure whether to move it around to the other side, since Roy was in her way.

"I'll take care of it," he told her, trying to keep his tone neutral. He shifted and reached for the table, pulling it to sit across the bed. He had no intention of making Johnny suffer through being fed by this woman.

"I... I just wanted to apologize to Mr. Gage. I didn't know... well, I only thought his one arm was hurt and I..." She seemed to run out of steam, and she stood there, wringing her hands, uncertain whether to stay or go.

Roy was about to dismiss her, but he suddenly noticed a smile had replaced her remorseful expression. Surprised, he turned to see the matching one on his partner's face. His left hand was giving her a thumbs up signal.