Author's note: This story is set in 1977, just after the sixth season ends and before Johnny and Roy are promoted to captains. I reference several episodes in this story and I stick as closely as I can to canon. As a matter of fact, as I wrote this story (I actually have it all completely written and even beta read), I was careful to adhere to a rule I gave myself: the air date of an episode is the day it happens, and I attempted as much as I could to make my timeline match with canon.

Also, a note to the guest reviewer who questioned why I called the OC I introduced in the last chapter Mr. White Owl, I'm guessing as opposed to simply White Owl. You may be right. I picture this man to be at least 70 years old, so he would have had to have been born no later than 1907. I know some Native people who use the colorful names from their culture as last names and have English first names, and this is what I was depicting. But a little more research may be warranted to see whether or not this was being done in 1907.

"Why don't we all sit down?" The man from the FBI took command, and they all sat at the table, Johnny on the side nearest the building with Mr. White Owl next to him. The other three people sat on the other side, facing him.

Finally the man introduced himself and the group. "I'm Jackson Harding, and this is my partner Rita Warner. You met Ms. Fenway inside, and you know Mr. White Owl. Mr. White Owl is here as a representative of the tribal council from the reservation. It will become clear later why we needed to bring such a person with us, and also a social worker."

"What are your questions for me?" Johnny couldn't find anything in his mind to give him the slightest hint why these four people would come looking for him like this, and it unnerved him. What in the world could the FBI want with him?

Mr. Harding remained the spokesperson. "Do you know, or do you remember, a woman by the name of Patricia Two Elk?"

Johnny started at the name. "Yes," he said, "but I haven't seen or heard from her in over ten years. I don't know anything that's going on with her now."

"Well, two nights ago, she was murdered in her home on the Reservation."

Johnny gulped. "Oh, no! Patty! But…why would you think I would know anything about it?"

"Because the woman who killed her—we know it was a woman—is also threatening you, Mr. Gage."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Roy looked at Chet, who was pacing. "Why did Gage take those people outside? I can't hear anything!" Chet said.

"That very reason," Roy said dryly.

Cap agreed. "Whatever we need to know, I'm sure we'll be told when they're done with him."

It was forty-five minutes before the group came back in. Surprisingly, the klaxons were silent for all of that time. When the group finally filed back in, Johnny came in last, and his shift mates immediately could see that he was ashen. He did not speak to or even look at anyone, but headed for the dorm.

"Captain?" Jackson Harding, the man from the FBI was still made himself the main speaker. "There will be a police cruiser patrolling this area for at least the next 24 hours, while Mr. Gage is on shift. He has been threatened, and the threat is credible. One person has already been killed. If the threat is not resolved by his next shift, the cruiser will continue to patrol for as long as it takes."

"What! You've got to be kidding! Who is it? Who's threatening him? Who's been killed? Someone close to Johnny? Are any of the rest of us gonna be threatened?" The questions flew fast from all five men, but the FBI agent held up his hand.

"I can't tell you much. I can tell you that it appears to be something personal, having nothing to do with the fire department or any other firefighters." Mr. Harding told them. "Mr. Gage was able, once he understood what had happened and what was going on, to give us a name of a suspect, and we're going to be following that up, so hopefully this will be resolved fairly quickly. Beyond that, what he wants shared is up to him."

Captain Stanley tried another avenue for information. He turned to the old man. "Mr. –ah—White Owl? Is that what John called you? How do you know John? Are you related to him?"

"No. I am a member of the tribal council, and a medicine man in the town on the reservation where Johnny's mother lives. I've been acquainted with him and his family for about twenty-five years, but I had not seen Johnny since he left the reservation ten years ago."

"Why did you call him Chases Cougar?" Chet asked.

At this the old man smiled, obviously ready to relate a story he loved telling. "I conducted the naming ceremony when that name was given to him when he was not quite four years old. A few weeks before, there had been a Cougar spotted in a tree near their home. He was afraid that the Cougar was a threat to his mother and tried to climb the tree to chase the Cougar out."

"I can see him doing something like that," Chet replied with a smile.

The visitors left and Captain Stanley sternly warned Chet not to mock Johnny for his Indian name. "It shows that even when he was little he was trying to protect people. It's a good name for him, and it's probably really special to him. Leave him alone about it!"

"Okay!" Chet said, somewhat defensively. Roy glanced at him and then walked away from the conversation to look for Johnny.

He found him sitting on his bunk, his back against the wall at its head, pillow on his lap, staring ahead of himself at nothing. Roy sat down next to him. "Johnny, who's after you?" he asked.

"Nobody. It's not important."

"That FBI guy said somebody, and it is important."

"I know what they said. But that's not what's important. She said she didn't think she could do anything to me by herself, and I don't think they're going to have any trouble finding her. There aren't that many ways from South Dakota to here."

"Then what is important? Is everything—are you—all right?" he asked.

Johnny shook his head. "No." His voice came out in a whisper.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Johnny shrugged. "I'm going to have to," he said. "But I don't want to. I don't know where to start."

"How about at the beginning?"

Johnny smirked and averted his eyes. "You wouldn't want to listen that long."

"I'll listen."

Johnny drew in his breath as though to begin, but the klaxons, which had left them alone up until now, suddenly burst into sound, for the squad only.