Hello again, folks, and welcome to my latest round of Station 51 shenanigans. I really must thank Madi for the heads up on getting the whole series on DVD. I've never had such fun on a binge watch before - oh, those crazy boys!
I'd have to say the Firehouse Four has become a real favourite. And as Madi will know, I just love writing missing scenes. So here's my thoughts on how Roy came to learn how to read music. Unfortunately for him, Johnny's really determined to find out too!
Enjoy!
A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing
Okay, this was bad. Very bad. On the Roy DeSoto scale of 'bad' this would rank at seriously... now, what was the word he was looking for here?
Oh, yeah. Bad. With a capital B. And the A. Plus the D. Because, as he knew so well, anything that had Johnny this quiet had to herald something really bad.
The end of the world, maybe? Paired up with the Calamity Kid here, Roy wouldn't put it past him. Or maybe, just maybe, he was overdoing the coffee.
Adding decaff to Joanne's next shop, Roy then swept his eyes in a quick 'just checking' glance around them. Instead of the tornadoes and thunderclouds he'd imagined, he found clear blue skies, and felt warm sunshine on the arm that rested on top of his window. And those four horsemen of the apocalypse? Nope, just four riderless ponies, enjoying their game of canter-tag around their field.
Yeah, it was just the most perfect kind of day. A real shame, then, that just two words managed to end it.
"Hey, Roy?"
'Uh oh.'
Okay, so his perfect day was over, but Roy still had his favourite way to make up for it. From its anticipation alone, a fond smile grew into its more devilish grin. The less he said in reply, the more antsy his 'let's-see-how-many-words-I-can-say-before-I-run-out-of-breath' partner became. Which, of course, is why he did it.
"Yeah?"
Still oblivious as ever to such monosyllabic genius, Johnny continued to frown. As more 'thinking time' stretched on between them, the fonder smile returned to Roy's face. Yeah, with all these crazy ideas flying around it, he had to give that overworked brain a chance to catch up, and - say what?!
"...yeah, y'know this whole music thing?"
Now it was Roy's turn to frown. Of course, the rules for this game of his weren't set in stone. Sometimes he had to use some extra words himself, just to try and make sense of what The Motormouth Kid was talking about.
"What music thing?"
A fair and simple question, that was surely just as easy to answer. Right? Yeah, like he'd ever be that lucky.
"Aw, come on, Roy! You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
Resisting the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel, Roy chose the less painful option of a deep, calming breath. One of these days, he'd be able to read his partner's whirligig mind, and... whoa. Even for this fearless paramedic, that thought was just too damn scary.
"The way your mind works, Junior, I can assure you... I don't."
Oooh, he'd said all that aloud? Oops. Swiftly followed by a silent 'oh, hell!'
Silence, for all of two seconds, before that nicely simmering curiosity erupted over him like Marco's fieriest chilli.
"Well, in that case, I'll tell you! Music, Roy! How you can read music, and - and why you never told me!"
Jeez, that again? The barber-shop contest that his partner - hell, the whole shift - had tried to rope him into? Not the singing so much, but the rather vital skill that they'd all overlooked. A little childhood talent, that Johnny was clearly as obsessed with now as he'd been then.
To him, of course, those tenth grade lessons hadn't been anything to make such a fuss about. Well, except for what they'd led to. What Joanne still teased him as the night he'd tortured her new piano - and what he'd seen more shyly as their kinda first date.
It was a personal thing too, that he now had to explain to his partner was just between him and his wife, and... well, he could only try. Again.
"'cos it's no big deal, that's why! It's just... you know, one of those things you learn as a kid, but never take further."
There'd been just enough firmness in his voice to say 'that's it.' And enough of a smile to protect his partner's feelings. But then, he'd reckoned without Johnny, whose thought processes would make the sanest psychiatrist run screaming for the hills.
As Roy wryly told himself, the world's most long suffering paramedic would likely be right behind him. Those distant peaks looked mighty tempting right now, and - what the hell?!
"You know what, Roy? You're - You're like the Mona Lisa. A big, blond, and reeaaal grouchy Mona Lisa."
A brow rose above its equally disdainful eye. Damn, if he'd had a dollar for each time he had to explain this, he could afford to retire right now. There was no way he was going to let this latest crack at him slide either, and - ooooh, game time. Round two.
"Strawberry."
"Huh?"
"Straw-ber-ry. You know, as in the fruit?"
"Huh?"
Now on the receiving end of his own fiendish brilliance, Roy sighed. If he didn't get canonised for living with this crazy kid, there was something seriously wrong with the system.
"My hair, Johnny. It isn't blond, it's strawberry blond, 'cos of... you know, that little bit of red in it."
A boringly normal brunette stared back at him as if he'd grown an extra strawberry blond head. On such a hot day, too, what else would a paramedic do but check its temperature?
"You feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, you idiot! I'm just answering that last thing you said to me!"
"What thi-? Oh, you mean how you're like the Mona Lisa? Aw, come on, Roy, you've gotta admit here, there's times when you're just... you know, just like her. All inscrutable, and - and... hey, I bet she'd have been a whizz at poker! Or - Or betting the ponies, or... ooooh, that reminds me..."
As this latest torrent of thoughts and theories washed over him, so Roy gave in to a helpless smile. Damn, if this overgrown puppy didn't get him every time. Not even the kids on their best 'aw, daddy!" day could hope to beat their Uncle Johnny.
"Mona Lisa, huh?" he said at last, shaking his head now as he steered the Squad towards home, and relative sanity. "Boy, even for you, that is just way out weird."
Met with another, dawn of the apocalypse silence, its cause made him sigh in relief. Stretched out in his seat, Johnny was now engrossed in the sports page. Checking its scores, no doubt, for that latest bet he'd made with Chet.
As peaceful quiet settled back between them, Roy relaxed too. Humming that little song he'd made up for Joanne, all was right in his world again. Right until another peach of a curveball brought those four horsemen - or at least their next trip to Rampart's emergency room - that little bit closer.
"Hey, Roy? You ever shot clays before?!"