Roy pointed to the area where the stairs and upper hall had been, where he had last seen Johnny. Shit… A shadow of guilt passed over Roy. The area was unrecognizable. The upper landing was demolished and the remaining beams were fully engulfed in flames. They had no inside access to what was left of the upper floor. Roy fought his growing sense of dread. Come on Johnny, where are you? He shone his light down to the lower level, where Johnny might have fallen or lay buried. Roy tried to push that thought from his mind.

The paramedics worked their way down the precarious half flight of stairs and examined the remains of the room and doorway that had been under the upper hall. Shining his light at the devastation, Roy's jaw clenched, and he froze momentarily, seeing a piece of blackened turnout coat protruding from the wreckage. He pointed to the pool of dark liquid near the doorframe and followed the gruesome trail further into the house. Roy could feel his heart pounding in his chest. At least Johnny wasn't buried there.

One step behind Roy, Snyder glanced at the coat, and the blood. Only Gage… he thought with a knot in his stomach, convinced anyone else would have been a corpse by now. That's a hell of a lot of blood for a guy who's not dead…

They followed the spilled blood across the hall to a bedroom. Roy entered the room first almost tripping over his partner. He lay curled up on his sidejust inside the doorway, deathly still, his helmet on the floor next to him. "Got him! Johnny!" He instinctively felt for a carotid pulse. Thank God. He quickly placed his air mask on his friend as he yelled, " Help me get him out of here!"

Snyder broke the glass in the window with Johnny's helmet. Brice quickly ran over with the backboard and shoved it through the opening, then knocked the rest of the glass out and covered the remaining shards with a thick blanket. Roy and Snyder expertly log rolled and secured their comrade onto the backboard slid him out to Brice and Cap, who had raced over to assist. Once they got Johnny out, they quickly moved him out of the collapse zone as gently as possible, not knowing what injuries he had sustained.

Roy yanked his mask off and shrugged out of his tank. Brice sprinted over with the trauma box and oxygen. Snyder placed a non-rebreather over Johnny's mouth and nose to deliver pure oxygen. He listened to Johnny's respirations while Roy prepared to get Johnny's bleeding under control. They knew from the amount of blood soaking his pants, his pallor, and his rapid heart rate that shock was setting in.

Brice gently placed a cervical collar on Johnny. The oxygen had begun to rouse Johnny slightly. He lifted one hand toward his face and wrapped his other arm protectively against his ribs. He groaned and began to grow agitated. Snyder spoke quietly to Roy, "Get up here where he can see you. See if you can calm him down."

Roy motioned for Brice to take over the work of getting to Johnny's leg, and he moved up by Snyder. "Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?" Roy called.

Johnny pushed the mask off his face, and tried to sit up, grabbing the front of Roy's shirt and pulling. "Jennifer...Roy, I…" he rasped weakly. He began to cough violently.

"Back down, pal" Roy instructed in the calmest voice he could muster, and he attempted to gently place the mask back over Johnny's mouth and nose.

"Roy… did you… I… I had her…"

"Johnny, it's okay. Everybody's out. Listen, we need to check you out and get your vitals." Johnny shook his head weakly from side to side in protest. "You gotta keep this mask on, buddy. Johnny, Brice needs to get to your leg." Roy was actually glad Brice was there. He knew the arrogant young man was a damn fine paramedic even if he lacked a personality.

Roy glanced over as Brice skillfully cut through the blood-soaked turnout pants, and both men grimaced at the ugly compound fracture. Snyder's eyebrows shot up when he saw the extent the leg injury. He had seen the amount of blood left in the basement. How did he ever get out of that room? Damn.

"Good Lord…" Cap muttered.

Brice worked quickly to control the bleeding where the bones had torn through Johnny's skin. The pressure elicited a guttural sound from Johnny, and he started to shake. Once the bleeding was under control, they would be able to stabilize the leg, which would help reduce the spasms.

Roy and Snyder continued their survey of Johnny's condition, with Roy taking the lead. "Johnny, tell us where else you hurt."

"Hurts… Roy…"

Roy felt for his long-time friend and partner. "Where else do you hurt, Johnny? You gotta help us out."

"M' back… ribs…throat burns… Roy -- did you… get Jennifer...?"

Roy reassured Johnny as well as he could, knowing that he was disoriented. "Jennifer is just fine, Johnny. Joanne's with her." To Snyder he quietly murmured, "He's definitely shocky. " Snyder nodded back.

Roy checked Johnny's ribs as gently as he could, but still elicited a gasp and a defensive reaction, followed by more painful coughing. "Sorry 'bout that, Johnny. I won't do it again." He noticed the lacerations and swelling under the left side of Johnny's neck and jaw, and remembered that Johnny hadn't had his helmet on when they found him. "How's your head?"

Johnny moaned something unintelligible, so Roy felt for contusions while Snyder spoke to the hospital.

"Rampart, this is Squad 36."

"Go ahead 36." Dixie's voice issued from the box.

"Rampart, we have a male firefighter, age 29, who has suffered an apparent fall in a house fire. He was unconscious when he was extricated, and is now semi-conscious. He has a compound fracture of the left tibia and fibula and has lost a considerable amount of blood. We are attempting to control the bleeding and are preparing to stabilize the leg. We have taken full spinal precautions. He is also suffering from smoke inhalation. We have him on 100% O2. Victim is in severe pain, with reports of pain in his throat, ribs, and back, in addition to the leg. He has superficial lacerations on his left mandible. Pulse is 120 and thready. Respirations are 30. B.P. is 86 over 50. Victim is diaphoretic and shocky. He has been agitated and confused, and has lost consciousness twice."

"36, stand by."

The voice switched to that of Dr. Brackett. "Squad 36, start two IVs of Ringer's Lactate, wide open, and set up a cardiac monitor."

Snyder set up the heart monitor while Roy started the IVs.

"Rampart, victim's pupils are equal and reactive." He paused, and then added, "Rampart, be advised that the victim is paramedic John Gage." The hospital had Johnny's blood type and history on file, and he and Roy both knew Johnny would need blood products as soon as possible.

"Squad 36, administer 2 milligrams morphine IV, continue with O2, and stabilize that leg. Continue to monitor vitals on route, and transport as soon as possible. Transport as soon as possible."

"2 milligrams MS IV, continue O2. We have stabilized the leg. We'll monitor vitals en route, and transport as soon as possible. Squad 36, 10-4."

Both Roy and Snyder rode in with Johnny. The fluids were beginning to do their job; Johnny's blood pressure came up slightly, though it was still low. His respirations were holding, but he was developing stridor as his airway began to constrict, inflamed by all the smoke he had inhaled. Roy and Snyder both know it would probably get worse before it got better. They needed to get him to Rampart fast.

It was terrifying seeing Johnny so still, but Roy also knew that when he came around more, the pain would be severe, despite the morphine. It was going to be a rough ride. As if on cue, Johnny began to stir, then his body jerked as a spasm of pain flashed through him.

"Aw man… Roy?" Johnny wheezed, under the air mask. He tried to lift his hands up to push it off, but the two paramedics gently restrained him so he wouldn't pull out his IVs. Johnny looked around, trying to orient himself.

"Where's Katie? Did you get Katie? Roy?"

Roy couldn't make out what Johnny was trying to say. "Johnny, don't try to talk. Just take it easy, okay?" Johnny tried again to speak again, but he couldn't make himself understood. Roy shook his head in confusion, which Johnny took to be the worst news.

"No…" he moaned, as he fought back a cry. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Katie…." The name faded on his lips as everything went black.

"Treatment room two," Dixie directed as the gurney burst through the double doors at the end of the emergency room. She worked hard to control her emotions as she caught her first glimpse of the battered patient coming in. Her concern deepened as she noticed the fear on Roy's face.

Roy watched nervously as the medical team transferred Johnny to an exam table. He and Snyder hung the IV bags on the poles and then backed out of the way so the team could get to work. Snyder stepped out into the hall, after giving Roy a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Roy felt removed from reality, as if he were watching a training film rather than living the nightmare. None of it seemed real. He observed the scene with detached fascination, unable to fully accept the fact that the "patient" in front of him was his best friend. Dixie hung a bag of packed red blood cells while Dr. Brackett checked Johnny's airway for burns and then inserted an endotracheal tube and hooked him up to a ventilator. As is from far away, Roy heard Dr. Brackett barking orders and requesting tests, his stress over treating an injured friend causing his voice to sound harsher than he intended: "X-rays of chest and leg… Solu-Medrol… blood transfusions… a complete set of electrolytes… CBC with differential, ABG, carbon monoxide level…" The words became disjointed – "on-call orthopedic surgeon" – "vascular specialist…" The voices were gradually drowned out by a buzzing noise, and the lights dimmed. Roy started to sweat profusely as the room became uncomfortably warm.

Too late, Roy realized he was passing out. One of the orderlies happened to look up and notice that the color had completely drained from Roy's face, and that the man looked nauseated. He had seen the look before, but he hadn't expected it from the experienced paramedic. He reached Roy's side just in time to ease him down the wall to the floor.

Roy came to with a start. Someone said his name, snapping him back to the present. He discovered that he was lying down on an exam table in a treatment room, with his feet elevated. A nurse was taking his blood pressure while Dr. Early spoke gently. "Take it easy, Roy. Give yourself a minute. Are you feeling a little better now?"

"I feel so stupid. Doc, how's Johnny? How long was I out?"

"Don't feel stupid. It happens to the best of them. You've only been out a few minutes, so there's not a whole lot I can tell you that you don't already know. I've had someone call Joanne. I want you to rest in here until she arrives. When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink, Roy?"

Roy's delayed response was answer enough.

"That's what I thought. That's probably part of the reason you checked out in there. I'll have someone bring up something for you. When you feel ready, you can sit up real slowly and drink some water." He handed Roy a glass. "I'll let you know when Johnny's X-rays and lab results start coming in. Is there anything more you can tell us about what happened to him? It might be helpful."

Roy took a deep breath and sat up slowly. "We know he fell through the floor to a basement, with his air tank on. I'd guess he landed on his feet then fell back on his tank. We don't know if anything fell on him or not, but his coat and air tank were buried under half of the second floor." Roy shuddered, remembering.

The doctor listened patiently.

Roy again visualized the scenario that he had been playing out over and over again in his mind. "He got out of his coat and tank, somehow, before the ceiling came down. Snyder and I followed blood across the hall, and we found him just inside another room, unconscious." Roy paused briefly, staring at the floor, and then he looked straight at Dr. Early. "Doc, how did he ever get out of that room? He had a compound fracture, for God's sake. He must have dragged himself. Geez, Johnny." He had to look away.

Dr. Early shook his head in dismay. "Shock and adrenaline can do amazing things to the human body, Roy. They can save you...or cripple you...or kill you. Try to take it easy, Roy; you know Johnny's in good hands now. It looks like you got him out in time. We'll keep you informed."

Roy smiled weakly and nodded as he lay back down. The water had helped, but he was still physically and emotionally exhausted. Against his will, his eyes eventually closed and he slept.

On a different level of existence, Johnny hovered at the edge of consciousness. He was aware of time passing, and voices floated by occasionally, but the words didn't have any meaning. He felt a deep sense of sadness and despair, but he couldn't remember why.

Roy's eyes flew open when Joanne entered his room. He sat up before he was fully awake. She took one look at his scared, haggard, soot-streaked face, and she held him, tears streaming silently down her face. "I saw Dr. Early in the hall, and he told me about Johnny. He said you collapsed. Are you okay?"

Roy nodded, "I wasn't exactly the pillar of professionalism, that's for sure." He looked at his wife, and wiped soot from her face. I must really look bad.

Suddenly he remembered something he hadn't told Dr. Early. "Joanne, when Johnny started coming around he kept calling for Jennifer. He sounded really upset, and blamed himself for something."

"Our Jennifer? You're sure?"

"He kept apologizing, saying he had her, and he was sorry. He kept asking if I got her. I know he was disoriented, but it was still really chilling. The kids don't know anything, do they?"

"No, honey. They were sound asleep when I got the call. Suzanne came over; she'll sleep on the couch and get Chris off to school in the morning if we're not there yet. She said I could pick Jenny up any time tomorrow at her house."

Roy hugged her again and held tight. She was his lifeline. Johnny was right. I am a lucky man.

Joanne spotted the tray with an untouched sandwich. "Looks like someone wants you to eat something, Roy."

Roy jumped up as Dixie entered the room. "What?"

With typical Dixie composure, she said, "Well, they're still getting him stabilized for surgery, Roy. His airway doesn't look too bad right now. His blood pressure has come up, heart rate has stabilized, carbon monoxide levels are coming down, but his oxygen is still a bit low. That's going to need to come up before they can put him under. He has three cracked ribs, and you already know his leg is going to need some work. How are you holding up now?"

Roy smiled weakly. "Better than the last time you saw me."

"Joanne, please see that he eats that sandwich. He about gave me a heart attack when he went down. I'll be sure you know when Johnny heads up to surgery."

"Thanks, Dix."

As soon as Johnny was stable enough for surgery, the medical team whisked him up to the operating room to repair the damage to his leg. Roy watched his friend being wheeled down the hall toward the elevator. It just benchmarked the start of another long wait. He felt a strange emptiness as the elevators doors closed, and somehow the lounge seemed quieter and lonelier.

Surgery of any kind carried risks, and although Johnny had stabilized, Roy knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. His first concern was his friend's survival, but he also began to wonder how much damage Johnny's leg had sustained. "Joanne, did you know he dragged himself out of the room where he fell? Can you imagine what that must have felt like? Do know what will happen if there's too much tissue damage? His career will be over." After a long pause, he quietly added, "I feel like I let him down."

Joanne squeezed his arm in support. "You saved his life. You know that deep down inside. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm glad you're here."

They sat together in silence, dozing off from time to time, counting the hours. Waiting.

Roy was jolted from his light sleep when Dixie gently touched his arm. "Sorry to startle you, Roy. I knew you and Joanne would want to know Johnny is in recovery now; he made it through surgery just fine. The surgeons gave him a positive prognosis on that leg. All things considered, his muscles and veins weren't in too bad of shape."

Roy rubbed his face in an effort to wake up more fully. He felt tremendous relief wash over him. Johnny would have hated a long-term desk assignment; he probably would have quit the department. "Thanks, Dixie. How's his throat? When can I see him?"

"Roy, he'll be in recovery at least 3 hours. Johnny won't be up to any visitors for some time. He's going to be heavily sedated, and Dr. Brackett plans to leave him intubated for a couple days so he can recuperate a little and reduce the strain on his body. You know how insidious airway inflammation can be. Why don't you go on home and get cleaned up and get some rest. You still smell like that fire." She smiled reassuringly, "I'll make sure someone calls you if anything changes. I promise." To Joanne she silently mouthed the words, "Take him home."

The next two days passed by slowly. Someone from 51's sat with Johnny every moment it was allowed. They knew Johnny was out of it and wouldn't remember, but each man from the crew needed to be there for him. He was one of them; it was Brotherhood.

By mid-morning of the third day, Dr. Brackett allowed Johnny to wake up so they could safely take him off the ventilator.

Johnny awoke very gradually. Eventually his eyes explored the room and settled on Roy, recognition dawning on him progressively.

"Glad to have you back," Roy ventured tentatively.

Johnny started to speak, but his throat felt raw. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Roy picked up the plastic cup that was on the stand. "Want some ice?"

Johnny nodded. "The fire," he croaked, looking at Roy for confirmation.

"Yeah. Do you remember much?"

"Enough," was all Johnny offered. He avoided eye contact with Roy. "The little girl?" he whispered.

"What little girl, Johnny?"

Johnny couldn't deal with this yet. If Roy didn't know about the little girl, then she hadn't made it out. "Never mind." He closed his eyes again, trying to will himself back to oblivion, but the pain in his head and the haunting memories wouldn't allow it. He couldn't face the images – much less talk to anyone, even Roy, about his failure. "I'm really tired, Roy," his hoarse voice rasped. He winced as he shifted slightly in the bed.

Roy leaped up. "Here," he offered, "do you want this higher?"

"Doesn't matter," Johnny whispered without emotion.

"I'll let you get some sleep, then. I gotta call the station any way, let them know you're finally awake."

"I don't really feel like visitors, Roy."

"I don't blame you. I'll try to hold them off, but it won't be easy," Roy added with an uneasy smile. Something didn't feel right about the way Johnny was acting. Roy tried to tell himself it was probably just the lingering results of the sedation. "I'll stop by later. Get some more rest."

Roy thought that by mid-afternoon, Johnny might ready for another visit. He entered the room with hope.

"Hey, pal. Ya feelin' any better?"

"Fine," Johnny lied, his voice still very hoarse.

Roy noticed Johnny's flat effect and downcast eyes. "You were in bad shape in there, you know. We were all pretty worried. I think it even rattled Brice."

"More of Gage's Bad Luck, I guess," Johnny said bitterly.

"Oh, I don't know. Sounds like Gage's Good Luck, too. Most people would be dead, going through what you did."

"Maybe I should be," Johnny answered in a whisper, turning away.

Roy was speechless – hoping at first to see that it was a feeble attempt at humor. All that came out was, "Huh?" When Johnny didn't respond, he felt his blood run cold. "That's a strong statement," he said nervously. He could feel the anxiety emanating from his friend, and he didn't know what to say. This was not the Johnny Gage he knew. What happened in there? Roy was well aware that depression could follow a major trauma like Johnny had been through, but this seemed to run deep, and it had him scared. "Hey, why don't I call Dr. Brackett, if he's still here, and have him check you out."

"I just wanna sleep, and forget."

"Forget? What's goin' on, Johnny? You've got a really good prognosis. They say your leg ought to heal just fine, with some physical therapy. Is it the pain? They can give you something for the pain. Let me call the doc." Roy stood and turned toward the door. He stopped when Johnny spoke.

"The victim, Roy. The little girl. Katie. I know she's dead, Roy." Johnny's ragged voice was barely above a whisper.

Roy turned around slowly, "What victim, Johnny? Cap called us out. The house was clear."

"Cap was wrong."

Johnny stared into space, his face becoming flushed as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "There was a little girl in the fire, Roy. And if you don't know that, then she's dead. It must have been their niece. God, Roy – how am I going to live with this?" He swallowed hard, a lump in his already ravaged throat. He sounded as if his heart had broken.

"A little girl? Geez, Johnny, we didn't know. I don't get it." He needed to talk to Cap, but he sure couldn't leave Johnny right now. He had been in close contact with the crew over the phone, and had seen each one of them at the hospital over the last few days. Nobody had mentioned recovering a body. The papers hadn't mentioned any victim except Johnny. What the hell is going on? He sat down, silent, letting Johnny control the conversation--or end it. He knew he just had to be there for Johnny.

Johnny's gravelly voice was despondent. "She was Jennifer's age, Roy…" His voice cracked with emotion, "She's the only reason I even got out of there alive, and I just let her slip away." He had never felt such utter hopelessness.

"I wish I knew what to say, Johnny." Truer words were never spoken.

Finally Johnny looked Roy in the face. "Don't you get it, Roy? I fell through the ceiling and laid there, too out of it to even care. I just let go, I hurt so bad. The little girl… Katie… she couldn't have been more than about three… she woke me up, Roy. She wanted me to come play with her, and she ran off to another room. I had her in my arms, Roy. I put my helmet on her. I had her. I know I tried, but I failed. I did try… it wasn't enough. I couldn't get her out." His eyes filled with unreleased tears. "What if it had been Jennifer? I feel like… I feel like --" but the words couldn't be spoken out loud. I feel like I killed a baby.

Roy felt the instinctive need to defend Johnny. He moved closer to his friend, his voice calm but firm. "You've got to know you did all you could do. My God, Johnny, you went after her with a broken leg. Johnny, you… you almost died in there." He looked at Johnny, but he saw that his words were falling on deaf ears. "I'm finding Brackett."

While Dr. Brackett examined Johnny, Roy went over to the nurses' station to call Captain Stanley. He had called when they had taken Johnny off the ventilator, but now he needed to find out about this little girl. He was relieved when Cap answered the phone.

"Hi ,Cap, it's Roy. Yeah, uh, Johnny's voice is sounding a little better. The doc's in there right now, checkin' him out."

Cap quickly relayed the information to the crew, who had gathered around the phone for the update. "That's good news, Roy. Keep us posted, okay, pal? And let us know when Johnny's ready for some visitors."

"Uh – Cap? Do you know anything about a victim?"

"A victim? What are you talking about? At the Edgemont fire? There weren't any victims except Johnny."

"What about the Andersons' niece -- the three-year old, Cap? Johnny said he had her when he finally passed out, but she was gone when we got to him. We didn't even know to look for her, then you called us out and the whole house went up. Cap, I've never seen Johnny like this. He's taking this really hard."

"Roy, the Andersons' niece wasn't in the house. They had just walked her home. Nobody was in there except Johnny."

Roy let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. "Oh, boy." Roy's mind raced. What had gone on in that house?

"Tell me more, Roy. We may need to follow up on this." The Andersons had seemed genuine enough, but there was always the possibility of foul play, however remote the chance.

Roy hadn't noticed the young couple that had approached the nurses' station to ask about an injured paramedic. He paused, collecting his thoughts, reviewing what Johnny had told him. "From what Johnny told me, he passed out right when he fell through the floor. That's when his leg snapped." Roy stared at the floor, picturing the events and trying to reconcile bits of the story. He continued, "He said a little three-year-old girl named Katie woke him up. She talked to him a few minutes then told him to come play with her. She ran down the hall and disappeared, calling Johnny to come play with her."

Cap said nothing, listening intently, shaking his head, the story not matching the facts, as he knew them.

Roy continued, not noticing the emotionally distraught couple hanging on his every word. "I don't know how, but Johnny got his tank off and dragged himself after her. He said as soon as he got through the door, the ceiling came down." Roy paused again. "Cap, Snyder and I saw his tank; it was buried. Johnny said he found the little girl in her bedroom, and put his helmet on her and held her, knowing he wasn't going to make it out. The little girl wasn't there when we found him; just Johnny and his helmet." Roy's voice was full of emotion, "Cap, Johnny held her, fully expecting to die in there."

There was no sound on the other end.

Johnny's reaction after they got him out started to make sense. "Remember how he was upset and confused, and kept asking about Jennifer? Cap – you think he just hallucinated the whole thing?"

A quiet voice broke the silence. "We're the Andersons." Roy's head whipped around.

The man continued, "We had a three-year old daughter named Katie." His voice was filled with long-felt grief. Then, with a hushed voice, he added, "We lost her to leukemia two years ago."

Roy's voice took on an odd tone. "Uh, Cap? I gotta go." He slowly hung up the phone, staring at the couple, totally stunned. Their staggering words hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Roy regained some semblance of professionalism and gestured toward the lounge. "Please – let's go have a seat."

Roy studied the woman's face as she wiped away tears, processing what she had heard. She sat down and nodded gratefully. There was more uncomfortable silence, and then Roy cleared his throat nervously and introduced himself. "I'm Roy Desoto, and I'm a paramedic with the LA County Fire Department. My partner is the man who as injured. Are you all right, Ma'am?"

"Cheri, please. This is my husband Scott. We're just trying to make sense of this. It's almost too much… to take in."

Scott spoke like he was in a dream. "We hadn't heard anything about the fireman who was injured in our house – or what used to be our house. We've been following the news stories but hadn't heard anything today. We were going crazy wondering how he was doing, so we called the hospital. We wanted to thank him in person, you know, for putting his life on the line checking for us. You too," he indicated to Roy. "All they'd tell us was that he had been upgraded to serious condition. We wanted to drop this note off for him." His eyes welled up with tears again, and he clenched his jaw shut, unable to continue.

Seeing her husband's pain, his wife took over, "Did he really say he saw a little girl named Katie? In our house?"

Roy nodded. "Yeah, he did. And you say Katie was your daughter?"

The grief on their faces confirmed it.

"Listen, I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you two to deal with. My wife and I have two small children. I also need to let you know that right now my best friend is in that room over there, torturing himself, because he thinks he failed to protect a child who, somehow, got him to drag himself across your hall, which saved his life. I can't make sense of this, but I need to let him know that nobody died in that fire."

Cheri looked at her husband through tears. "Scott, I need to talk to him. I need to know," she whispered. "She was there. Katie was there. He saw her."

Scott faced Roy, and with a very shaky voice, he said, "Go talk to your partner."

Dr. Brackett had just finished writing in Johnny's chart and he met Roy in the doorway. He motioned for Roy to join him in the hall. "Roy, Johnny's having some complications."

"You don't know the half of it, Doc," Roy agreed under his breath.

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Did Johnny say anything to you about a little girl?"

The doctor crossed his arms as he considered the question. "No, but something certainly has him down, and I don't think it's just the pain, although I know he's in a considerable amount of that, too, even though he won't admit to it. Because of that splenectomy he had a couple years ago, you know his immune system is somewhat compromised. Normally that isn't a problem. We put him on preventative antibiotics after his surgery, his most recent blood work shows he's fighting an infection. I've changed his antibiotics and just had a nurse give him a fairly potent painkiller because his blood pressure and temperature are both up. Not a lot, but I don't like the direction this is headed. I don't think he's giving us an accurate read on how he's feeling. Johnny Gage is usually a fighter, but this time he acts like he doesn't even care. Now what's this about a little girl?"

"Well, right before I called you, Johnny told me a little girl died in the fire because he couldn't get her out." Roy wasn't sure how to proceed.

Doctor Brackett let out a low whistle. "That explains his demeanor. Something tells me there's more to this story. Go on."

Roy paused, not sure how much he should divulge without talking to Johnny first. "Doc, Johnny's description of the little girl is really vivid. He really believes she was there. But there was no victim in that fire. I was just on my way in to tell him."

The doctor looked relieved and hopeful. "That wouldn't be the first time somebody experienced delusions in a crisis. Well, let's hope that sets his mind at ease. He needs all his energy devoted to getting well. Keep me posted, Roy."

"You too, Doc. Thanks."

Roy entered Johnny's room quietly, trying to figure out how to lead in to what he had to say. Johnny turned his head to Roy slowly, a far-away look in his eyes. He looked so tired. "Hey," he said without emotion. "You're not back to tell me everything is going to be fine, are you? I don't have the energy for a pep talk."

"No. Actually, I think things are already fine," Roy said seriously.

Johnny looked back up at the ceiling, not having the desire or will to debate.

"I have some good news for you." He took a deep breath. "Johnny, I don't really know how to say this. I know I sure can't explain it. Um…nobody was hurt in that fire except for you. The Andersons' niece was at her own home during the fire. Katie…"

Johnny sat up slightly, wincing at the sudden surge in pain. "Roy, if Katie's not their niece, then who is she? And how did she get out? Katie's really okay, Roy? How…" he stopped when he saw Roy's face. "What is it you're not telling me, Roy?"

"Johnny, this may be hard to hear, and even harder to make sense of. Katie's parents are out in the lounge"

Dixie walked in, picking up Johnny's chart. "Everything okay in here? Those pain meds doing you any good yet?" She looked at the two men, who were obviously in the middle of something important. "Uh, Johnny? Roy?"

Roy didn't take his eyes off Johnny. Both ignored Dixie, practically oblivious that she was even in the room. Dixie listened as Roy continued, and she automatically started checking Johnny's blood pressure.

"Johnny, the Anderson's told me that Katie… was their three-year old daughter."

"Was? Roy… what are you trying to tell me? This is supposed to help?"

"Johnny, their daughter Katie died of leukemia two years ago."

Johnny and Dixie both just stared at Roy, their mouths open in disbelief.

"Do you know what you're saying, Roy? She was there; I had her in my arms."

"Johnny, I know I don't understand it, but nobody died in that fire. I know you beat the odds, and it looks like you had help. The details I guess you have to just take on faith."

Dixie frowned at the blood pressure reading. It was higher than it should have been, but at this point it could be due to emotional or physical causes. She knew the pain medicine should have kicked in by now. "Johnny, I'm going to kick Roy out of here for a little while. I want you to try and get a little rest." She gently patted his arm.

"Yeah, Dix," he agreed, but his mind was a million miles away.

Cheri Anderson entered the room quietly and sat down, studying the dark-haired man who lay recovering in the bed before her. She had stayed out as long as she could. She and Scott had discussed it over the last few hours, and they decided it might be less intimidating if only one of them talked to him. Part of her felt like she was intruding. He was a stranger. But he had made a connection with her daughter. This man had seen Katie. Why him? Why Katie?

Her eyes rested on his cast, and she thought about what he had gone through. They had told her he suffered smoke inhalation and cracked ribs, and the nasty bruise and scrape along his jaw was another visual reminder of his trauma. My daughter saved this man. She knew it with certainty now, although it could not be explained.

Cheri's mind wandered. Before their daughter's diagnosis of cancer, she and her husband had firmly believed that everything in life, good or bad, happened for a reason. They were not overly religious, but they had strong beliefs, nonetheless. Then came Katie's leukemia… they could deal with that; they just knew that with modern medicine she would beat it. They could not allow themselves to believe anything else. Their feisty little two-year-old faced her illness like she faced life: undaunted. Her spirit was carefree, like a child's should be – full of love and delight and running barefoot in the grass.

As they watched Katie's condition deteriorate, they began to question their convictions. Then the inconceivable happened.

Katie died.

Her death shook them to the core of their souls. They stopped living, unable to accept the loss of their precious child. They could not forgive Life for what they had been dealt. Their lives would never be the same. They longed to know that she had died for a reason – it seemed everyone they tried to talk to insisted that she had. But it had ripped their hearts out, leaving a hole. They vowed they would never have any more children. The stakes were simply too high.

Over time, they began to trust the world a little more. They let in a little hope. Eventually they could watch children play in the park. They could talk about her, some. Their grief never went away, and it never even lessened – but it did become less crippling. Terrified, they decided to have a baby. They were ready to experience joy again, even knowing the risks. Katie was worth it.

Cheri was so lost in her painful reverie that she jumped when she heard the man begin to stir. This man saw Katie. He talked to her. What am I going to say to him?

Johnny sensed someone in the room as he awakened. His eyes moved to the chair and he saw her. He felt groggy from the pain medication, and he blinked hard to try to wake up more fully. He studied her face, which seemed familiar, but he knew he had never met her before.

"You're her mother, aren't you?" Johnny said quietly, watching her. He felt his heart start to beat faster. This is too bizarre.

"Yes. Please, can you tell me…" She didn't even know what to ask. She just felt a need to make some sort of connection with this man. She had to.

"She was beautiful," he answered, closing his eyes, picturing Katie's sweet face. For the first time, he could think about her without devastating guilt. He felt himself start to relax a little. "I was in bad shape and I had blacked out. She woke me up and kept patting my face and talking to me until I got my air tank off." Johnny chuckled, and looked at Cheri. "She wanted to know if I drove the fire truck."

"She loved sirens," Cheri remembered.

Johnny closed his eyes again. "Then she took off into the smoke and just kept calling me down the hall until I managed to get out of that room. I don't know how. Then most of your upstairs came down right where I'd left my tank. I would have been crushed." Cheri hung on his every word. "If I hadn't seen her, and if she hadn't kept calling me, I'd be dead. She was in the room across the hall playing. Still talking to me. I couldn't make it to the window, so I put my helmet on her and tried to keep her safe, but…" In a voice no more than a whisper, he added, "…I thought…" Johnny fought the lump in his throat and blinked quickly.

Cheri tentatively reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm. "You held her in your arms." Cheri's heart ached at the thought, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"I thought I did, Ma'am. But now I'm thinking she was the one holding me."

Roy had finally gone home for dinner and he got to spend a few minutes with his own kids. He had always loved being a dad, but tonight he felt more fortunate. While the kids went to wash up, he tried to fill Joanne in on the incredible story. As she wiped away a stray tear from her face, Roy got an idea.

"Joanne, how do you feel about bringing the kids to the hospital to see Johnny for a few minutes?"

Joanne's answer could hardly be heard over the cheers and pleas from the youngest Desotos. "How long have you two been there?" Then to Roy she added, "They'll never let them in, will they?"

"They will if I talk to the right people first," Roy assured her.

"Then, I think it's a good idea. You heard him kids, go put on your shoes."

"And get my blankie," Jennifer yelled back, as she ran to her room. "And the picture I drew Uncle Johnny…"

At the hospital, Roy found Dr. Early preparing to leave, and asked him for special permission to let the kids in briefly to see Johnny.

Joe nodded smiled with understanding. "Sounds like it's just what the doctor ordered. I'll let his nurse know, so you don't get lambasted."

"Thanks a lot, Doc."

"Sure thing, Roy. Let me know how it goes."

Roy nodded, then headed down to Johnny's room. Johnny was awake from having his blood drawn again when Roy entered.

"More needles," Johnny sighed.

Roy thought he looked and sounded better than he had earlier. "How 're ya feeling?"

"Better. Really. I still feel like I got blown up, but at least I'm startin' to feel like they put me back together."

Roy started to relax. This sounded more like Johnny. You up to some visitors?"

"I can't guarantee I'll stay awake for very long. They gave me more pain meds about 10 minutes ago to help me sleep. Who is it?"

"Joanne, and two half-size Desotos who are worried about Uncle Johnny."

Johnny brightened visibly, despite the dulling effects of the painkillers. "Bring 'em on in."

Chris and Jennifer entered the room quietly, as instructed. Jennifer handed Johnny the crayon drawing she had made for him and whispered, "This is to help you get better."

"I feel better already, sweetheart. Thank you."

Chris informed Johnny, "Mom said not to touch anything, not to ask you about the little girl, and to talk like we're in a library or we'll get kicked out."

Johnny started to laugh and then winced at the twinge in his side. He looked up at a very red-faced Joanne.

"I'm sorry, Johnny, Roy and I were talking and we didn't know the Dynamic Duo were listening. I'm really sorry." Roy just shook his head in resignation.

"I think you're doing a fine job, Chris," Johnny assured the eight-year-old.

Jenny piped up, "I'm doing a fine job, too, Uncle Johnny."

"Yes, you are, Jennifer," Johnny agreed.

Chris asked Johnny to tell him all about the fire and to describe all his broken bones and stitches in detail, so he could tell his friends at school the next day. When Johnny had finished his story, in an abbreviated "Gage" fashion, Chris was duly impressed. "That is so cool…" His mother elbowed him. "I mean bad. Really bad. The guys aren't gonna believe it."

Jennifer's eyelids were beginning to droop, so Roy picked her up and held her. "Uncle Johnny?" she asked sleepily.

Johnny was fading fast himself. "Yeah, Jen?"

"When you are all better, will you come do inside-camping with us again?"

"I sure will, honey," he slurred.

"Tell Uncle Johnny goodnight, guys, we need to let him sleep," Joanne instructed.

"Hey, Uncle John," said Chris, "We're staying up later than you this time! 'Night."

"'Night, Chris."

"Good night, Uncle Johnny," said a sweet high voice.

"Good night, Jennifer. Be good." His eyes were closing.

When Joanne and the kids had filed out, Roy took a moment to speak to Johnny alone. "You still awake?"

"Yeah, but I'm startin' to float."

"You talked with the Andersons?"

"Just Cheri. We had a good talk, I guess. It's really weird, you know? I think we're both ready to move on and know that Katie's okay." He hesitated, and then continued, "You remember all that talk about luck the other day?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, now I know I don't need to know. Cap was right. Life isn't based on luck. Katie was there, Roy. That whole thing was real." He was feeling no pain now.

"I know, Junior. I know." Roy watched Johnny's eyes close as he began to fall asleep.

"Roy?" Johnny drawled.

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me that."

Roy laughed. "Just checking your reflexes. I think you are going to be okay."