The Golden Arm Harmeth
By: Waikiki23
Summary: Tag to "It's How You Play the Game". What if Chet's "golden arm" accidentally hurt Johnny?
A/N - This is what happens when I watch Emergency! late at night. I start getting other ideas rolling through my head when I should be working on my stories that are in progress. And I almost have those chapters done. So I apologize for the delay, but this story begged to be written. Hope you enjoy it!
"Alright! Show 'em one more time!" Johnny encouraged, tossing Chet the softball and resuming his stance as a catcher. He was grinning at the short Irishman. He would have never thought in a million years that Chet would have such a good arm for softball.
The other men were standing around, watching with amusement as Johnny worked with Chet to get him ready for the big softball game at the fireman's picnic. Station 51 was in need of a pitcher, since Charlie Dwyer had broken his arm two days prior, and since the friendly competition had turn into a bet between station 36 and 51, thanks to the new "coach". They had to admit though, Chet was looking good for the position and just might help then win the game.
Chet grinned, never realizing his potential. He was never into playing ball as a kid and assumed that he stunk at it. But Johnny had faith in him, and here he was, pitching on target and according to the guys, looking good at it. He kept his eye on Johnny's glove, wound up and threw the ball as hard as he could.
Every other time, the ball had gone neatly into Johnny's glove. This pitch was different. The ball arced wildly and whacked Johnny on the left side of his head, bouncing away harmlessly before it rolled under Cap's truck.
Johnny had seen the ball fly in his direction, thinking it would land in his glove, like it had been doing. Surprise was putting it mildly when pain exploded behind his eyes and he fell to the ground on his right side, cradling his head in his hands. He laid on the concrete, writhing in pain and moaning in agony.
The other firefighters jumped into action a moment after Johnny was struck. "Marco! Chet! Get their gear! Mike, help Roy! I'm going to call it in!" Cap ordered as he and the two linesmen ran into the station.
"Johnny! Are you okay? Come on, take your hands away," Roy ordered as he and Mike carefully turned the injured paramedic over on his back and gently pulled his hands from his head. Roy cautiously pulled the catcher's mask off, startled when he saw bruises forming already around Johnny's ear and eye.
"Hurts Roy," Johnny replied simply, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright sunshine that was intensifying the headache he now had.
"I know Junior, I know. I have to check your eyes, so just hang on," Roy assured his partner. He's really hurting. When he admits he's in pain, I know its bad, Roy thought to himself as he then pulled his penlight out and checked Johnny's pupils. He heard Chet and Marco returned with the requested gear; Cap wasn't too far behind.
"Ambulance is on the way Pal," Cap stated, kneeling next to the senior paramedic. "How is he?"
Roy sighed, rocking back on his heels before glancing over at the commanding officer. "He got hit pretty hard, Cap. It looks like a head injury. Would you mind getting on the horn with Rampart? Let them know what we got?" Roy asked as he started getting vitals on his injured partner. He wrote them down on a slip of paper, handing it to Cap.
"Sure Roy," Cap replied, opening the orange box and putting the antenna up. "Rampart, Squad 51."
"Unit calling, please repeat," came the melodious voice of one Dixie McCall a minute later.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have a firefighter down, 28 years old. He's been hit with a softball on the left side of his head right above his ear. Vitals are BP 140/80, pulse 75 respirations 16. His pupils are unequal. He has bruising around his left ear and eye. Rampart., be advised the victim is John Gage," Cap reported,.
"10-4 51. Start and IV D5W TKO, administer 6 liters O2 and transport immediately," came the authoritative voice of Doctor Kel Brackett.
"10-4 Rampart, IV D5W TKO, 6 liters O2 and transport," Cap repeated as Roy nodded, pulling out the IV catheter as Marco hooked up the O2.
"Roy, I don't…I don't feel so good," Johnny's voice was weak, but Roy knew all too well what was happening.
"Mike! Help me roll him!" The two turned the sick man to his side, where Johnny promptly threw up. Johnny's face was ashen and covered with beads of sweat. Mike felt for the poor guy. He looked like he could hurl again. They waited for a moment longer before laying John onto to his back once more.
"Stay with me Junior! You have to stay awake!" Roy pleaded, but to no avail. Johnny's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he lost consciousness.
"Cap, update Rampart! Marco, get that O2 on him!" Roy ordered, starting the IV on his unconscious partner. Cap looked up when he heard sirens in front of the station. "Chet, go show them in pal."
"Sure," Chet replied unenergetically, standing and heading through the apparatus bay. Cap watched his linesman with some worry. Something's up with him, Cap thought, filing it away to address later.
Rampart had just been updated when Chet returned, the attendants following him. "He's ready. Guys, easy with him, he has a head injury," Roy directed, helping the two attendants lift Johnny onto the stretcher. Once he was settled, Roy said, "Okay, lets go," He held the IV up as Johnny was wheeled to the ambulance.
"Chet, follow Roy in the squad pal."
"Sure Cap," Chet replied softly, not making eye contact with him. Cap looked up sharply at his tone and saw a stricken look cross Chet's face. Chet's blaming himself. I'm going to have to talk to him when Roy brings him back, Cap mentally noted, watching the stocky Irishman climb into the squad and pull out of the station, following the ambulance.
Yes sir, we are going to have a talk when you get back.