J.M.J.

A/N: Welcome! Thanks for reading! This is my first story for either Emergency! or Adam-12. I had planned to write a story that was just Adam-12, but this one wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you in advance for following, favoriting, and/or reviewing! I always appreciate feedback!

P.S. If you're reading/following Black Rose, me posting this story does not mean that that one is going on the back burner.

False Witness

Chapter I

The Call

There was an odd assortment of candy spread out over the table at Los Angeles County Fire Station 51. It was mostly suckers with some sticks of bubblegum mixed in. Roy DeSoto might have found it a little strange when he walked in and saw it, but it was pretty well explained by the sight of his partner, John Gage, sitting at the table, meticulously counting the pieces of candy. For a moment, Roy debated whether he should even ask, but knowing Johnny, he'd tell him before much longer anyway.

"What's all this for?" Roy leaned against the table as he asked it.

Johnny started as if Roy had surprised him. "Roy, you have kids."

"Yeah. I've noticed that," Roy replied. It was starting to sound like Johnny was going to get him mixed up in something.

"How would you like the opportunity to really promote the paramedic program?" Johnny asked, using the tone he always used when he was trying to talk somebody into something.

Roy had only been working with Johnny for a few months. They had gotten to be friends while Roy had been assisting with the training class of paramedics that Johnny had been in, before the paramedic program had become legal in California. The bill that had accomplished that had only passed two months before now. Johnny and Roy had been working together ever since then. They got along well and made a good team, but Roy could already see that his partner had plenty of idiosyncrasies. Among them was a tendency to always try to talk other people into things.

"What opportunity would this be?" Roy was trying to play it safe.

"One of the schools asked the fire department to send over a paramedic to talk to the fourth graders about the paramedic program tomorrow," Johnny explained. "Charlie from C-shift was going to do it, but he volunteered to work overtime at 46 to get out of it. So guess who got stuck with it?"

"You?" Roy said, knowing the answer perfectly well.

"Yeah." Johnny let out a long breath. "But it's only for half an hour. I'll have plenty to say. That's not the problem. The problem is this." He gestured to the assortment of candy.

"What's the problem with that?" Roy asked. "What is that even for?"

"Charlie bought it to be prizes for a game he was going to play with the kids," Johnny told him. "The problem is that he didn't say what game he had in mind. You've got kids, Roy. What sort of games do fourth graders play?"

Roy sat down in one of the empty chairs. "Well, neither of my kids are in the fourth grade yet."

"How old are fourth graders, anyway?" Johnny asked.

"Ten, eleven," Roy told him.

Johnny rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's been a while since I was ten or eleven. What do kids that age do?"

Before Roy could reply, Chet Kelly walked into the kitchen and peered over Johnny's shoulder. "What's this? Your trick-or-treating loot?"

"Oh, cut it out, Chet." One thing John had learned quickly in the months that he'd been working at Station 51 was that Chet Kelly would take any chance he could get to rib him or play practical jokes. Although Chet didn't limit his teasing to Johnny, the paramedic was certainly his prime target.

"You're touchy this morning." Chet shook his head. "You shouldn't have stayed out so late last night trick-or-treating."

Roy stifled a grin while Johnny cast an annoyed glance at Chet. John didn't have a comeback for him, and that only annoyed him even more.

"The candy is for a talk on paramedics that Johnny is giving to the fourth grade at one of the schools in the area tomorrow," Roy explained.

"Oh, I see," Chet said. "Bribing the kids is the only way you can get them to listen to you. Do you think you have enough candy to get through the whole talk?"

"Kelly, will you just –" In mid-sentence, Johnny decided to switch tactics and ignore Chet instead. He turned to Roy. "Do you want to give the talk instead? You're better with the kids than I am. Besides, you were one of the first paramedics trained in the county. They'll think you're some kind of celebrity or something."

"Sorry, Johnny," Roy replied. "Joanne and I are taking the kids to the amusement park tomorrow. They'd never forgive me if I canceled on them."

"Looks like you're stuck with it, Gage," Chet said. "You know, I'm surprised they would have asked you. You'd think they'd want to give those kids a good impression of the paramedic program."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Notice nobody ever asks you to give a talk about fighting fires."

"That's probably because I'm too busy actually fighting them," Chet replied.

Before the teasing could go on any longer, the alarm went off. At once, all three men headed for the door, but by the time they reached it, the dispatcher had already started speaking, giving the information that only the paramedic unit was needed: "Squad 51, woman down, thirty-six forty-two East San Luca Boulevard. Time out eight fourteen."

Johnny and Roy hurried into the squad while Captain Stanley acknowledged the call. Roy switched on the lights and sirens, and they pulled out of the station.

/

In another part of the city, two LAPD police officers, Pete Malloy and Jim Reed, were on patrol. Their shift had only started a little over an hour ago, and they hadn't yet gotten any calls. Jim hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

"Maybe today will be a slow day," he commented.

"We get those every once in a while," Pete replied. He glanced at his partner who was yawning again. "You know, you should get more sleep when you're on duty the next day."

"Yeah. Tell me about it," Jim said wryly. "Jimmy's caught Jean's cold now, and I was up most of the night with him."

Pete nodded understandingly. "Jean's still not over her cold yet?"

"No." Jim shook his head. "It's really turned out to be a bad one. This is going on four days in bed."

"Maybe you'd better get her and Jimmy to a doctor," Pete suggested.

"I wanted to take Jean yesterday, before Jimmy came down with it," Jim explained. "But you know Jean. Never go to the doctor unless you're practically dying. I finally made her promise that if she wasn't better by tomorrow morning, I could take her and Jimmy to the doctor."

The officers had been working together for several years now. Pete had been Jim's training officer while he had been on probation, and the two had remained partners – as well as close friends – ever since then. In fact, when Jim's son, Jimmy, had been born two years earlier, he and his wife Jean had asked Pete to be Jimmy's godfather.

Jim rubbed his eyes wearily. At least, Pete hoped he was just tired.

"When you take them, you'd better have the doctor take a look at you, too," Pete commented. "If you're not careful, you're going to have to take some time off yourself."

"I can't afford the sick leave," Jim said. "That last cold used up practically all my leave time for the year."

"Uh huh." Pete nodded pointedly. "You can't afford not to take the time off. The last thing we need is for you to spread another cold like that through the whole division. And being your partner, I'd probably be the first one to catch it."

"Brinkman had the last one before I did," Jim pointed out. "Besides, I'm not going to catch this one, anyway."

Pete didn't reply, but he had his doubts.

His partner's non-reply gave Jim the opportunity to change the subject. "How are your camping plans coming along?"

"The only plan is to spend four days fishing and relaxing," Pete replied. "It's all planned out. Unless you double cross me and give me that cold."

Jim grinned. "That would be just your luck. You could wear a face mask while you're on duty in case you're worried."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You're a real comedian."

"Just goes to show I'm not sick if I still have a sense of humor," Jim said.

"That's debatable," Pete replied.

"That I haven't got the cold?" Jim asked.

"No, that you've got a sense of humor," Pete returned.

Jim grinned again, but he decided to let the matter drop for now. He really was worried about Jean and Jimmy being home alone and sick, and the idea that he'd catch the cold, too, was also concerning him. As he had said, he was almost out of sick leave for the year. Being the beginning of November, he didn't have much longer to hold out until the new year would roll around and he'd have more sick leave, but that wouldn't help now. What was worse, he had been feeling a tickle in the back of his throat ever since early that morning – or late last night, whichever it was - when he had been sitting up with Jimmy. He'd been trying to ignore it, but it hadn't gone away all morning. He cleared his throat, as if that would do any good. It didn't.

"I think I'll give Jean a call when we go on seven, just to make sure everything's all right and she doesn't need anything," he commented.

A few minutes later, the dispatcher's voice arrested their attention. Although they kept the volume of the radio turned down low, they had long ago developed a habit of noticing everything that was said over it without having to listen hard. Of course, it always especially caught their attention when they heard the number of their unit, 1 Adam-12, being called, which was what was happening now: "1 Adam-12, 1 Adam-12. Possible DB. Thirteen twenty-one Hardale Street. Cross-street East San Luca Boulevard. Ambulance is responding."

Jim grabbed the mic for the radio. "1 Adam-12, ten-four."