Cap's POV

A/N: All the normal disclaimers apply. I'm still poor as a church mouse because I don't own and am not making any money from anything Emergency related. This is just a playdate between Cap and me, he wanted to get better acquainted. I'm sending him back to Station 51 now safe and sound along with all the other guys.

His voice just keeps echoing in my head, I keep hearing the words over and over and I wish I could make them stop. 'Engine 51, this is John. Uh, I've been bit by a rattlesnake.' I have a feeling those words are going to visit me in my sleep for a long time to come.

Chet and Marco had been winding rope, finishing up the rescue job we'd just completed. John's words seemed to have frozen them in place, but it seems like they are already half way down that hill again as soon as the words leave my mouth, 'Chet, Marco, move'. Damn great crew I've got, best in the county. I hate the unbidden thought that tacks itself on, I'd really hate to lose one of them.

I lost count of how many times I checked my watch 5 flicks of the wrist ago. I'm hoping that once they get up here Gage can tell me that it isn't that serious, that he's fine. Just a nick. It wasn't a rattler, just an aggressive gopher snake. I'm hoping he can tell me anything that will bring a swift end to this. My heart and my Captain's intuition, if there is such a thing, tell me differently. This is real and this is serious.

The news I'm getting from the radio isn't helping my stress level. The most available air ambulance is carrying my other paramedic towards Rampart at this very moment and won't be available for more than half an hour, tack on travel to our location and we're looking at 45 minutes or more. About the same amount of time to respond a ground ambulance. Looks like we are transporting on our own, without another paramedic to help with treatment. It's getting harder to breathe and I feel a monster headache coming on.

I finally hear the roar of the tractor's engine reaching the top of the hill. I lay eyes on Johnny and I can tell this isn't a mistake, not a gopher snake. John's looking much too pale.

Mike and I rush to help carry John to the engine. Getting him up there isn't as easy as we thought it would be, but I honestly thought this was the best choice for transport and we manage not to drop him on his head. What were we thinking sending him up feet first? I'm struggling to remember my basic first aid, but in a snake bite aren't we supposed to keep the wound lower than the heart? Too late now. Before I can even finish climbing the rig Johnny is already at work treating himself. Best damn crew a Captain could ask for. How does a person even prepare for such a situation? How do you think of what needs to be done when it's your own life hanging in the balance? How do you not panic and just lose your mind? I can't help but ask the questions despite already knowing the answers. It's what we all do in every dangerous situation we encounter. Every one of my men has this ability to think clearly in the worst situations. It's what makes them such a great team. I'm still in awe of John's ability to keep his head and treat himself. Did John just start his own IV? I'm feeling a bit queasy. We all know John hates needles, but I've been able to keep my own aversion to them under wrap. Can I recommend him for a commendation for treating himself? I'll have to look into that once this is over.

I don't know why I do it, maybe because he is already next to John and doing everything he can to help out, but something in Chet's eyes is begging me to let him stay with John so I leave Chet on top and send Marco to drive the squad in. 30 minutes to Rampart. I hope we have that long. I hope that not having Roy along is not going to be the key to John living or dying and I hope that Big Red handles the bumps in the road well enough that we don't bounce our two high riding passengers right off the back.

I find myself sitting sideways trying to keep my eyes on the road ahead and our passengers on the back at the same time. It isn't an easy task and my neck is already killing me. I hear John answering Rampart's request for his current condition. I don't know if it's the fact that his voice is already getting weaker from the symptoms of the snakebite or if it's our location out here in the canyon, or a combination of the two, but County doesn't hear his transmission and they ask for him to repeat it. I wait a moment and don't hear his answer. This is not good. I grab the mike and transmit his message. It's only when I go to replace the mike that I realize I'm holding the damn thing backwards. How did I manage that? At least they still seem to have heard my transmission because I'm not asked to repeat it again. Not sure I could if I had to. This is so much harder than I ever imagined.

What the…? What is Chet doing back there? Did he…did he just throw something? I quickly check the side view mirror and see some sort of debris on the road, but it's too small and too far behind us to tell its origin. Hmmm, I'll have to ask the guys if they know what happened. Chet and Johnny still seem to be hanging in back there. I hear Chet giving Rampart updates from time to time. Good man, Chet. I wasn't too sure about him when we first started working together. He seemed kind of high strung. Thought he would snap under the pressures of the job. That was before I was introduced to the Phantom. Man sure does know how to lighten a mood. Did have to talk to him about toning it down a little and he's mellowed some since we've worked together. There isn't a team I'd rather have on my hoses than Chet and Marco.

I'm holding the radio mike in my hand and just sort of fiddling with it, I should be calling in an update on our ETA, but my mind is somewhere else and I'm having trouble bringing it back where it should be. How on earth did we leave a HT behind? I guess I understand, I mean really, it isn't often we have to work with that many patients in that type of situation with so few hands on scene for so long. Sure reinforcements showed up when we were practically done and they came in extremely handy in hauling all those people back up that hill, but the paramedics were stacked two patients each and even with the rest of the crew pitching in it was practically one on one down there. That much gear, that many patients, I can see where something would be left behind. But, still nothing SHOULD have been left behind. I'm going to have to put more thought into this at another time. Hell, I don't even know which radio was actually left down there. Apparently Johnny was the one who realized we were missing a radio, but which one got left? Did I pick up his by mistake and leave mine or did he hand his off to someone with free hands and they left it? Maybe there is something we can do to help us remember all the stuff that has to be hauled around. If these radios were just a little smaller, a little more portable, maybe it would be easier to clip them on so we could have free hands AND keep them with us at all times.

Aw hell, I did it again. How the heck am I turning the radio mike backwards? Ridiculous. I've used this thing a thousand times, but today I can't hold it straight. I must be squeezing it so tightly that I'm engaging the button even though it isn't where it should be. I glance at Mike to see if he noticed my gaff. Huh, bet that smirk means he did. "Mike, I don't think I have to say it, but this stays here, got it?"

"My lips are sealed, Cap."

Don't I know it, thank goodness for a man who knows when to speak his mind and when to keep a confidence. I've never met a man as trustworthy and reliable as Mike Stoker. Best team a Captain could ask for. Wish I knew more about what was going on back there. I don't understand enough about pulse and respirations and all that stuff to have a clear picture of what is actually happening to my paramedic based just on Chet's updates. Roy would know, Roy would be able to give me a better idea what all of it means. Wonder if he's at Rampart yet. Maybe that's the down side of knowing everything Roy knows. I've been worrying all this time because I didn't know what was happening, but if he's been hearing Chet's reports then maybe he's been given a reason to worry. I guess it's a good enough sign that Chet still has numbers to report. Right? As long as everything keeps working until we get to Rampart we're good, right? Wish I could convince myself.

Somewhere in the last 5 minutes my leg has taken on a mind of its own and I can't make it stop shaking. I can tell it's driving Mike crazy, but I can't stop it. I'm going crazy. One of the reasons I went after Captain was because I like to be in control of the situations I find myself in. I served in enough situations with questionable Captains to know that you can't always trust the person in charge to be right. I trust myself and I think I've gained the trust of my men by being right about when to fight, when to back off and when to change course and try something different. They are a great team and I couldn't ask for better, but not being more in control of this situation is driving me slowly insane. I'll feel much better when we get to Rampart and get John to someone who knows how to control this situation. Just to make Mike feel better I put my hand on my knee and try to quell the tremor.

Finally, Rampart is in sight. Right this minute I can't think of anything more welcome than the sight of that hunk of cement and glass. There is absolutely nothing attractive or special about that building, it was built for utility and nothing else, but right this moment it is the most beautiful sight on the planet. It feels like it takes an eternity for Mike to situate Big Red in the far too small Emergency receiving area, but skilled driver that he is he maneuvers the engine into place perfectly the first time. A gurney and a couple of burly orderlies are in place waiting for us. It isn't as easy getting John down as it was getting him up. He's a thin, wiry guy, but dead weight is harder to move than a person who is conscious and can help out in a number of ways you don't even think about until you are trying to move an unconscious or unwilling patient. I shudder and am reminded how much I hate that term, "dead weight". Johnny isn't looking great, but he's still breathing and I offer up a quick, silent word of thanks for that. I notice the bandage covering the wound on his calf, must have been one of the ways Chet kept himself busy while sitting up there. Johnny and Chet have one of the most bizarre relationships I've ever encountered and those two twits drive me crazy sometimes, but when it comes right down to it, they have a weird friendship that works for them. Who am I to question it? I just keep them from killing each other when they are feeling less than friendly towards each other and it always blows over in due time.

And, just like that, three of us are left standing in front of a closed door. Interesting that Chet was one of the ones admitted, I'm willing to go with it though, he's the one who had to ride on top of the rig and watch over Johnny for half an hour. If they will let him in there then who am I to question it? I take Dixie's suggestion of some coffee as an excellent one and the three of us head off for the cafeteria. I'm buying. Judging by the looks on those two faces still hanging with me they need coffee like they need oxygen. This entire thing has been more draining on us than I anticipated, it's affecting all of us on a deeper level than I expected. How many times have I thought it already? I have no idea, but I really couldn't ask for a better team. The level of respect and devotion they have for each other is a sign of a really great team. The kind of team you get to work with once in a lifetime if you are lucky. I'm very lucky and I'm not ready to concede that my luck has run out. It's going to hold and we're going to get through this, I know it on a level deeper than logic. Now, Brackett just needs to confirm that and we'll be good. Bet Roy's found some way to blame himself for something in this. I need to talk to him, soon. Johnny is the best partner for him. Yin to his Yang and all that. Without Johnny to balance him out after today's events Roy is going to need someone to talk to or I could be looking at one very unhappy paramedic.

We get our coffee and have a seat. "While I'm thinking of it, Marco, you were behind the engine. Did you see anything fall off while we were driving?" I can tell from Marco's face he doesn't want to answer. Marco is probably my most transparent team member. That man can't hide a thing. "It's okay, pal. I just thought I saw something fall, but couldn't tell what it was, much less if it was something important."

"I can't be sure, but I think the venom extractor fell off the engine."

"The venom extractor? The one Chet was using on Johnny when we left the accident site?"

"Yes."

"How do you suppose this device 'fell' off the rig?"

"I don't know, Cap. It was hard to see through all the dust the rig was kicking up."

"Uh-huh." Well, I wasn't going to push it. If I put together the unspoken story and what I thought I might have seen, then my high-strung lineman 'lost' the venom extractor while riding on top of the rig and probably did so by giving a good toss over the side. I guess I can understand why he would do it even if I think he should not have thrown anything overboard. At least the time frame would indicate that he was done using it before he discarded it. Those things have a limited time frame for being useful and if I had it right in my head then the device's usefulness was long gone before it 'fell off' the rig. I place a few bills on the table before speaking, "Hey, guys, I've got some phone calls to make. County needs an update and I need to arrange a replacement. Stay here, get some more coffee, something to eat if you want, it's on me. I'll be back soon." And, as odd as it feels, I walk away from the last two team members who were sticking it out with me. I can't think of a time in recent events that I've felt so damn alone. I'm gone longer than I intended to be, but I do feel better after speaking with the Battalion Chief and I think it is with a bit more optimism that I return to our table on the patio. I grab a fresh cup of coffee on my way through the cafeteria and barely get a chance to take two sips when Chet comes sliding through the door to the patio. I haven't even had a chance to tell the guys what I found out. Chet ran so hard and fast to find us he can barely pant out his message. "Johnny's….gonna….be….fine."

"Are you sure, Chet?" I have to speak up to be heard above the whooping and hollering going on around me.

Chet nods in the affirmative. "Doc…says…he stands…an ex…cellent…chance."

I can't help myself. I hug Chet. I know, so un-Captain-like, but that's what I did. Together, the four of us walk back to Johnny's treatment room where we are met by Doctor Brackett and Roy who fill us in on the details. Johnny's going to need a little time to recover, but only a little if things go the way Doc expects they will. He should be back at work in short order and good as new. I feel like the full weight of Big Red has lifted off my shoulders. Today is not the day my luck runs out. My crew, the best crew, will remain intact and as solid as ever.

It's with much lighter steps that we walk down the halls of Rampart to head back to the station and finish out our shift. As we walk I rest my hand on Chet's shoulder. I'm not sure why. Am I trying to give him support or am I drawing it from him? I don't know, but it feels right. I'm not going to totally waste the opportunity laid at my feet, though.

"So, Chet, anything you want to tell me?"

"No, nothing in particular Cap, why?"

"Well, it's like this pal, while we were waiting I checked on the cost of a new venom extractor."

"Oh."

"They're a pretty penny, too."

"Awe, Cap. It was an accident. I didn't mean to throw it."

"Ah-ha! I knew it. Thanks for telling me. It had to be really uncomfortable and stressful riding on top of the rig like that." Chet's silence speaks more about that experience than he is ever going to say to any of us.

"I don't worry about it though, we've all had enough worry today to last awhile. I don't want you to make a habit of throwing equipment off the rig and under other circumstances I'd have to make a big deal out of this but, even before this happened, the honchos at county were being made aware that this year has been a really productive year for our rattlesnake population. Up until today none of the fire department staff had been bit, but everyone is seeing an increase in how many snakebite victims they are assisting. County wanted to be prepared for the increased snake encounters and ordered enough new snakebite kits to cover every engine and squad. Our kit was already getting a little dated by their records and since they have brand new kits on hand, they are shipping one over to us as we speak. Old kits that are used or expired will just be discarded and replaced with a new kit. No one wants to open a kit to find dried up alcohol pads, bandages that won't stick or an extractor with a faulty pump. They'll never notice or care that our old kit is missing its extractor." I finished my speech with a slap to Chet's shoulder.

The relief on Chet's face was all I needed to see. Maybe by giving him something to be grateful for I've headed off a visit from the Phantom. Only time will tell if it was enough or if we are in for some of Chet's version of letting off steam. Yep, my luck took a beating today, but it's still holding and before long the house will be back to normal. I've already thought it countless times today, maybe it is time I said it out loud. "Come on you twits, it's time for LA County's best crew to get back to work."