Acts of Desperate Men
Black-Angel-001: alright, first and foremost, i would like to make a few things clear. i am not a doctor. i am not a nurse. i am not a paramedic. i am not in any way a proffessional in the medical field. the only medical training i've had is the detailed basics of military first aid and such. i am only quailified to do cpr and put a band-aid on my 6 year old cousin's scrapped knees. most of what you will find in this fic is researched. if there is anything wrong medically, please let me know. as always, i am not trying to step on toes or insult anyone, so please do not send me a flame saying anything of the sort. please do not send me a review telling me there's no such street as 'insert whatever here' in LA County. i am aware of this fact. my geographical knowledge of that area is non-existant, so i use what i know. now, all that being said, if there are no questions, let us begin!
Disclaimer: I do not own Emergency or anything related to it. All other disclaimers are stated above.
Acts of Desperate Men
"For some moments if life there are no words." --David Seltzer, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
The mood at Station 51 was calm, relatively, as the men on "A" shift discussed their adventures on their days off. Captain Stanely stood just outside the doorway of the dayroom, hating that he was about to hurt someone he respected, knowing it would get worse before it got better, and accepted it, although reluctantly. He took a step forward and cleared his throat.
"Roy? John? You two need to come to my office." He didn't elaborate but his tone said 'now', not 'three minutes from now.'
DeSoto and Gage exchanged looks in a silent conversation that partners who'd been together for years could do.
"Shift's barely started and already Gage is in trouble," Chet said to Marco, gesturing vaugly.
John made a face at the Irishman, but didn't make a reply, figuring seeing what is Captain wanted was more important than giving a snappy comeback. As usual, the office door was open and Stanely was sitting at his desk, two men in suits standing nearby.
"I took the squad out of service, just until Dwyer gets here, which should be in about the next ten minutes," he said, his gaze going from one man to the other evenly.
John shifted his feet and put his hands on his hips loosly, eyebrows knitting together.
"Dwyer? Uh, Cap, don't you think three paramedics is a bit much?"
Stanely leaned forward, his easy-going manner replaced by a more serious one.
"Gage, there's a reason why I'm putting the squad in, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Got it?"
The young paramedic straightened, taken aback by Hank's words and mood. He shot a quick look at Roy, then re-focused on his Captain. "Yeah, I got it."
"Alright, then unless Roy wants you to stick around then you can go." Hank glanced at the suits.
Roy looked at the men too, evaluating them. Cops, he figured, detectives to be more exact. He didn't know the police system too well, but he'd interacted with enough cops on runs to know the difference between a 'street roller' and a 'house sitter'. The two standing there definetly weren't street cops and they definetly weren't messengers of good news.
He looked at his partner, who was ready to burst with curiosity. In the pit of his stomach, Roy felt a knot form, getting tighter with each breath. If it was bad news, did he want Johnny there? John gave him a look, one that easily read, "If you want me to go, fine, but I'm gonna ask you about it and it will probably drive you crazy." And he would, Roy knew. Nah, it would be better to keep him around, because Johnny always watched his back.
"He can stay." Roy looked at the cops again.
"Gage, close the door," warned Cap. He wasn't sure about Roy's reaction, but he'd be damned if he'd let anyone else see it before the man was ready.
When the door was shut, the older of the two cops took a tiny step forward.
"Mr. DeSoto, I'm Detective Adam Barton. My partner, Todd Burnes." The younger man nodded. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but this morning your wife was involved in a hit and run."
Roy knew his face was white, he could feel the blood draining away. The knot was tighter than ever, so much so that if felt like he'd been hit. He must've staggered, or swayed, or something, because John had gripped his arm and tried to move him to a chair to sit down. Roy refused to budge.
Working past the pain in his throat, Roy had to ask, "Was it real bad?"
"Bad enough. She was taken to Rampart General Hospital, and last I knew she was alive. I told the hospital to call here on any updates until you got there." He sighed. "I'm really sorry, Mr. DeSoto."
Roy said something, he must've, but all he really knew was that he was in his car urging it to go faster, even though he was pushing forty. It wasn't a long drive to Rampart from the station, five in good traffic, fifeteen in bad, but he felt each second and cursed that. In his head, all he could see was Joanne, her expressions, her actions, everything about her from the time they'd met in fourth grade to dinner last night. Roy tried to focus on the road and traffic, an accident would only slow him down and eat up time he didn't have, but it didn't work. The control and calm he was famous for in the department eluded him now, and Roy didn't know what to do to get it back.
Finally, finally, he was pulling into Rampart and sprinting for the emergency room. The familiar smell of anitseptic and cleaning solution calmed him just enough that he could think on what to do. He went to the nurses' station, hoping and praying Dixie was there. He trusted Dix to be level with him, even if...
No! He couldn't go there, not yet!
God, the little winged cherubs, someone up there had heard him. Dixie McCall turned her blonde head his way.
"He just showed up. Yeah, right. Bye." She hung up the phone carefully, and faced him fully, coming around from behind the counter. Her blue eyes, which had always been so expressive to him, locked and held his, which were now big and wide in his pale face.
"Roy, you need to go to room 614," she said gently.
DeSoto opened his mouth, but this time he could get around that burning pain in his throat. So he nodded and took off again, heading for the elevator. He punched the button savagly, bounced on his heels, and punched it somemore, as if that would make it go faster. He was considering the stairs when finally, finally, although it hadn't been more than two minutes, the doors opened. The ride to the sixth floor, the intensive care unit, his mind supplied numbly, seemed to take another eternity, before Roy was stepping off and running again. It vaugly crossed his mind that he might beat Johnny right now if they were to race, but then he was at the door and Johnny and races were completely forgotten.
When Roy went in the room, he felt that knot twist again, harder, and he did feel his knees buckle. Joanne was on a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and the various noises they made. Stark white bandages covered her, a blatant contrast to her bruised skin. Brackett and Early hovered close by, talking quietly. They looked at him, sympathy and pity making their eyes dark. As Roy sat next to his wife, Brackett came up beside him, dropped a hand on his shoulder. Roy flinched.
"Roy, she's in very serious condition right now, lost a lot of blood."
Something other than cold, paralyzing fear seeped into Roy's veins, making him want to hit Kel Brackett and shout, "Of course she's in 'very serious condition'! She's been hit by a car!" He wanted to smash Joe Early's head through the window, just to get that look off the man's face, the one that said he didn't think the patient was going to make it.
He wanted to, very badly; he could just see it in his head, in fact. But he didn't. Instead, he carefully took Joanne's hand and ran his thumb over the wedding ring he'd given her. Brackett was still talking, listing her injuries, he realized. Even though the paramedic in him was interested, the part that was in control, the part of him that was Joanne DeSoto's husband, couldn't take it.
"Not now," he choked out. He'd meant to sound in control, calm, because that's who he was, who he had to be. "Later, please. But not now-" Roy bent his head over Joanne's hand.
The two doctors exchanged in a silent conversation, then left. They felt helpless, useless, now. All that could be done had been, at least medically. Now, everyone, including them, had to appeal to a higher power. Even though they knew it, had even accepted it somewhere inside, they were racking their brains and going through all their years of experience, training, and schooling to find a way to help the woman a man they admired and respected keep her life.
Roy held her hand and talked to her, telling her all sorts of things, from his brief time in Vietnam to some pranks that had been played around the station. He told her about his last shift, and the little boy he and Johnny lost. He told her his plans for his next couple of days off, the plans he was making for their anniversary, even though it was five months away. He told her everything he could think of, then he'd run out of that, he pleaded with her not to leave him, outright begged her. He made promises and bargins, teased and cajouled, but Joanne never stirred, her color never got better. Then Roy was reduced to tearful pleading with God. At that moment, he would have sold his soul or given his life, if it meant Joanne would make it through and open her eyes.
Roy loved her eyes, the same color as hot chocolate, and just as enticing. In case he had never told her that, he told her then. The whole time, he had no idea if she heard him and Roy felt that if she hadn't heard all the pointless white noise, then she hadn't heard all the 'I love you's' either. Something tore apart inside him at the idea, but it wasn't that not. So, he covered her hand with both of his, and squeezed it as hard as he dared. He paused. Squeezed. Paused. Squeezed. Then he kissed her hand, right above her ring and right under her knuckle.
One day while driving to a get together of firemen, the kids had been a bit more rambunchus than usual, making it near impossivle for their parents to talk. Seeing Joanne near the end of her rope in patience, Roy had taken her hand, squeezed it three times, and kissed her finger right between the ring and knuckle.
Three squeezes, one for each word of 'I love you'.
She had beamed and squeezed his hand back four times for 'I love you, too'.
For the rest of the ride, their hands had stayed locked together. Since then, they'd used that 'secret language' whenever the other was upset, or hurt, or just because. Sometimes when he was at work, they'd call each other and tap it out on the phone, then hang up without saying a word.
It was their special way of reconnecting with each other.
"Come on, baby," he whisphered, kissing that little spot again. "Please." He squeezed again, three times.
Above the sound of the EKG machine's beeps, and above the sound of the resperator's hisses, Roy heard the clock tick a minute away, then another.
There was a light pressure on his hand. Roy froze, held his breath, afraid to miss anything. Another minute. A second light pressure, a third, a fourth. Roy pressed kisses all over the back of her hand, on her face.
"I heard it sweetheart, I got it." He went to sit in his chair again but missed it and ended up on his knees on the floor. "God, Annie, I got it."
Roy was on his feet again in the next instant when the slow beeping EKG let out a steady sound, one he was way too familiar with. Frantic, DeSoto pushed the call button and began CPR, only to be pushed away by doctors and nurses four minutes later. He watched as the defibulator was wheeled in, and when someone gently guided him out the door and into the hallway, he watched that first charge surge through his wife. Then the door closed and he couldn't see or hear any of what was going on.
Just like on his way to the hospital, Roy found himself stepping off the elevator and into the emergency room area without really being sure how he did it. His entire body was on autopilot, allowing whoever it was with him to guide him to a seat in the waiting room. The knot was getting bigger and tighter, filling his chest and making it hard to breath. Brackett and Early were approaching him, he saw out of the corner of his eye. Brackett stopped next to Dixie and stayed there, and Early kept coming. The doctor didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, he just kept rubbing them together. Early stood off to the side of Roy, looking at the floor. He took a deep breath, let it out, and looked the fireman in the face.
"I'm so sorry, Roy."
DeSoto figured whatever you learned in med school about giving bad news flew out the window when it came to the real thing.
Joanne's dead. She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdead...
And that knot that had been in him since morning unravled and the last thing Roy felt was something shattering into millions of pieces before everything was numb.
For the first time in a long time, Dixie had no idea what to say or do to comfort. It was even more frustrating because she counted Roy as one of her closest friends and she just didn't know what to do for him. Maybe if he cried or something she'd have an idea, but Roy just sat in that little corner of the waiting room, pale and listless, staring at nothing.
"I called Johnny at the station. He's on his way," she told Kel while still staring at Roy.
"Well, maybe he can do something." Kel sighed and shook his head. "Her mother and sister are on their way, too." He glanced at Dixie, then back to one of his best paramedics in the program. "Let me know if I can help."
Dixie nodded as he walked off and almost sighed in relief when she saw John come through the doors. He spotted his partner quick enough, but went to Dixie first.
"How long has he been like that?" Gage jerked a thumb in DeSoto's direction as Dix looked at her wristwatch.
"Almost fifeteen minutes now. No one can get through to him, it's like he's tuned out everything else."
John sighed and turned to look at Roy. "I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll try." He stalked over to him and crouched down in front. "Hey, pally," he said, keeping his voice soft. Roy didn't react, but Johnny knew it wouldn't be that easy. "Listen, uh, if you want, we can go somewhere, anywhere you want." Nothing. A child laughed in the room and he saw Roy wince. An idea came to him, making him snap his fingers. "Oh, that's right, you've gotta pick up the kids from school soon." A hand twitched. 'That's it, parnter. Come back to us, if for no other reason than your kids.'
"But, maybe you should change out of your uniform first, huh?" Roy blinked.
"What about you," he asked, voice flat.
"What about me?"
Now Roy looked at John, really looked at him and saw him, and John could have jumped for joy. "You're still in uniform."
Absently, Gage ran a hand over his shirt. "But I'm still on shift."
"Then I am too." And if the set of his shoulder's was any indication, Johnny could tell Roy was serious.
"No, Cap took you off for a while. That's why Dwyer's in with me for this shift."
Roy felt a question form in his mind, could tell his mouth opened to ask it, but he didn't allow it. It was a ridiculous, stupid question, considering how old he was. He wasn't five, he didn't need someone to keep away bad monsters or anything like them.
But the thought still kept popping in his head.
Johnny, help me?
Gage's eyebrows knit together. "Roy?"
He didn't need help from anyone to pick up the pieces, best friend or not. He didn't need the understanding or the shoulder to lean on.
"Johnny, I don't think I can-" DeSoto sucked in a deep, shaky breath, trying to get a handle on the tears pricking his eyes. He'd be damned if he broke down in a hospital.
"Okay, alright, I'll help you." Johnny put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. To his dismay, the words seemed to make Roy look worse. "Do you want to go back to the station or home?"
If the idea of going to the station was unappealing, the idea of going home was downright appaling. Seeing the torture on his best friend's face made John curse himself. "Or anywhere, just tell me what you want."
Roy stilled a moment, then shook his head and scrubbed his face roughly with one hand. "No, you're right. I've gotta get the kids."
"Listen, if you need time to pull together then we'll figure something out," assured Johnny.
Roy shook his head again and stood, taking more deep breaths. "It'll be okay, I'll be okay, don't worry about it." He repeated it like a prayer, softly and to himself. He was so focused on it, he didn't pay attention to what Johnny was saying or doing, just forced one foot in front of the other until he was out the door and in his car.
John stared after his friend, feeling helpless and unsure. While Roy did have his moments, they were far and few between, so he was at a loss on what to do. And even though they were best friends, Roy didn't always share his problems with Johnny, or let the younger man help him.
That way of thinking made John wonder: was he and Roy really best friends? That's what he said all the time, but Roy never had. In fact, the senior paramedic would more often than not roll his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh, like he was only tolerating something.
So, maybe Roy didn't want, or even need, his help?
It could have been his thoughts, or that he was thinking of her and remembering her, it being so soon after her death and all, but Johnny could have sworn that Joanne was standing next to him, staring into the same space as he. As if they could still see Roy's back. She looked exactly like she had the last time he'd seen her-in a summber dress, short hair decorated with a few stylish beretts, just enough make up to accent her classicly beautiful features. The ghostly vision next to him wore the same expression she'd had that time at the picnic 51's had: sad, thoughtful, so much older than her years.
"I know it's hard to understand what's going on with him, Johnny. Roy doesn't put his feelings out for everyone to see so if, or when, something happens as it usually does, he can help everyone else get through it."
Exactly like that moment weeks ago, she carefully tucked a bit of stray hair behind her ear and sighed.
"I'm always told that Roy is a pillar of strength for his shiftmates, a rock for them to lean on when things get tough. But," here her gaze darkened ever so slightly. "But, who's going to be there for him, if things get tough and he needs a rock to lean on, when he crumbles?"
It had blown his mind then and it did again. John could harldy imagine a time when Roy DeSoto would need a rock of his own, as it were. Besides, he always had Joanne.
Except he doesn't anymore.
The memory (or spirit?) of Joanne faded, smiling, leaving Johnny to ponder her last question.
Who's going to be there for him, if things get tough and he needs a rock to lean on?
Why, his best buddy, of course.
Black-Angel-001: i hated to do it, i didn't want to, but it's a setup for future chapters. there's more angst in later chapters, and it won't be pretty. when is angst pretty though, right? anywho, that's it so far. trust me, there's more to it than just this; look for weird twists and turns! review! click the little green button and put a smile on my face! please!