This chapter comes with a warning for descriptions of sexual violence. Although I have edited the actual rape from this version, I have retained the doctor's examination.
He heard a voice. Calm and petrified at the same time…familiar…lifesaver…but too late…
His name called over and over…warm hands gently pushing him onto his back. He parted his eyelids. Roy. No…go away…
"It's okay, Johnny. Just lie still. Everything's okay now."
Liar…
"It's okay now."
Johnny closed his eyes again, tears escaping from between his dark eyelashes. He heard Cap's voice, and Vince's. Roy's quiet words directing, and Chet's hushed responses. He felt a blanket covering his nakedness, and a squeezing sensation indicated that someone had placed the BP cuff around his arm.
"He's cold." Chet. Scared out of his wits.
"That and shock." Roy. "One hundred over eighty."
"Roy, the ambulance is here." Cap.
"Okay. We'll be through here in just a minute." Johnny felt Roy's hand rest on his belly, under the blanket. "Respirations twenty-four. Have you got Rampart?"
"Yeah." Johnny could hear Chet speaking quietly, and he guessed that he had contacted the hospital. For me?
"IV. Ringers lactate. Oxygen."
Johnny suddenly felt sick. He lurched over and vomited bile, then coughed so hard that he was sure his guts were being torn out. The coughing brought on more gagging, which in turn caused more retching. In a panic he struck out with his hands, feeling that he was being smothered.
Many hands…holding his arms and legs…he couldn't move…
Roy recognized the expression on Johnny's face, although he had never seen it on his partner before. Sheer, unadulterated panic.
"Back off!" he ordered. "Everybody, back off!"
Cap, Vince, Chet, and Marco all reluctantly released their hold on Johnny. Roy alone knelt next to him.
"Johnny, it's okay. Everything's okay. You're safe. Do you understand me?"
Blank eyes lifted to his. Blank eyes that transformed into expressions of incredible hurt. Roy found that he couldn't turn away.
Chet's voice broke the trance. "Roy, Rampart wants to know our status."
"Right." Roy seemed to shake himself. "Johnny, we're gonna start an IV on you, and then you're on the way to the hospital. I'm gonna give you some oxygen, okay?"
He held up the mask as if waiting for John's permission, but he received nothing. Johnny lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling.
Roy glanced up at the others, then started the IV. Chet quietly spoke into the biophone, and Cap sent Marco to guide the ambulance attendants.
Johnny flinched as the needle pierced his vein. Roy swallowed. "Sorry, Johnny."
"Where…where…were you?"
"What?" Roy stared at his partner, his face suddenly white.
"Where were you?" Johnny's words, whispered and yet as forceful as if he had shouted them, split Roy's chest into two.
"Johnny…" Roy stopped, his mouth seeming to be caught between a sob and a frantic explanation. "I—I couldn't get back in. The crowd—they were crazy. It was a mob. I called the police. I didn't know what else to do."
Johnny looked away, and Roy could see tremors race their way across his body.
"Johnny, please understand—"
"Roy." Chet caught Roy's eye and he shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Roy said to Johnny as much as to Chet. "I'm so sorry."
Drifting…far away. Roy and Cap and Chet had faded from him, which was good. He couldn't look at them any longer…didn't want to look at them any longer. The smoky air and the occasional shouts and the sharp retorts of authority still blasted into his consciousness, but even those reminders were being pushed away. He floated...slowly, carefully, landing on a firm cloud that enveloped his body and that gently rocked him. Cool breezes wafted over his face, but an irritating light flashed, and he closed his eyes to block the pain. No more pain…no more memories…it all needed to go away. They all needed to go away…
Roy stood back as Johnny was lifted into the ambulance. He had tried to avoid thinking about what had happened to his friend in the bar, but the reality picked away at him, refusing to allow him peace.
I should have gotten to him. Look what I've done…
Cap had patted him on the shoulder as the gurney had been wheeled out of the bar, and Chet had mumbled something encouraging, but Roy knew that the nightmare of what had happened was just beginning.
He climbed into the ambulance and sat next to Johnny. He noticed that his partner's eyes were closed, but he was sure that he was fully conscious.
"Just hold on, Johnny," he said quietly.
He could see John's eyes move under the lids, and the steady breathing became ragged. Suspicious moisture developed in the corner of each eye.
"Hold on."
Roy's fingers once again slipped around his wrist. The fingers felt ice cold and stiff, like a corpse. The BP cuff tightened around his arm. A hand reached under the blanket, lying carefully on his belly, and he jerked, his eyes flying open.
Roy removed his hand and said something low, something that he couldn't hear. Probably an apology.
He heard his partner talking on the biophone. The monotone of his voice didn't allow him to hear the words. What's he saying?
The ambulance slowed, then backed into the emergency entrance of Rampart, and with breathtaking shock Johnny remembered why he was on a stretcher. Suddenly the oxygen mask seemed to be suffocating him, sucking air instead of providing it, and he pulled it away from his face.
"Leave that on, Johnny."
"Fuck you." The words slipped out, and he watched Roy's face transform from concern to hurt and shock. He turned his head away.
"Exam Three." Dr. Early fell in beside the gurney. Johnny could feel the doctor's gaze, but he didn't meet his eyes.
He allowed them to move him to the exam table, but when Dixie went to lift the blanket, he grabbed the edge and pulled it to his chin. "No!"
"Okay, Johnny. You just keep it for now."
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm just trying to help you, Johnny. I know you've been through a lot tonight."
He lifted his head to see Roy. "Ask him what I've been through. He knows."
The stricken expression on Roy's face tore at him. He could hear whispers, then the door opened and someone left. He felt sure that Roy had left.
Dr. Early leaned over him. "All right, Johnny. Let's take a look."
"No."
"No? Johnny, you need to trust us. We only want to help you. No one is going to hurt you. Now let's move the blanket."
Johnny held on even harder. "I—I don't have—my clothes. They—ripped—uh, they were ripped."
"That's okay, Johnny. We'll cover you with a sheet, and we'll only uncover what we need to check, okay? Will you let us?"
They're going to see…they're going to know. "I can't," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "I can't." He turned away, and tears slipped down his cheek. "Is Roy gone?" he asked hoarsely.
"No," Dixie supplied quickly. "He's waiting in the hall."
"Can—can you ask him to come in?"
"You bet." Dixie squeezed his shoulder. A moment later he heard Roy's tread in the room.
"I'm sorry," Johnny called out, unable to turn to face his friend.
"It's okay."
"All right, then, let's get the sheet ready." Dr. Early placed his hand on Johnny's arm. "We need to do this, Johnny. I promise we'll be gentle."
The sheet was placed over the blanket, then the blanket was pulled away. Johnny focused on the ceiling as Dr. Early first shined a penlight into each of his eyes.
"Do you have a headache, Johnny?"
"Yeah." Johnny flinched as Early's hands probed his skull.
"You may have a concussion. You've got some nasty bumps." The doctor finished his examination of Johnny's head, including a look at his nose and mouth, both of which had been bleeding. "How about your ribs? Any tenderness?"
Johnny braced himself for Early's palpitations of his ribcage. Several areas were sore, and he groaned.
"Looks like you might have some cracked ribs. We'll get some x-rays. How about your arms and legs? Any pain?"
"No." Johnny clasped his hands together in an attempt to keep them from trembling so violently.
"All right then." Early paused, and Johnny squeezed his eyes shut to keep more tears from escaping. "We need to check down here, now." He touched Johnny's hip. "Okay?"
Roy cleared his throat. "Uh, Doc, do you want me to leave?"
"No, stay!" Johnny blurted. He met his partner's eyes, embarrassed at his outburst but desperate for him to stay. "Please."
Roy managed a small smile. "Yeah, I'll stay."
Johnny lay absolutely still except for the tremors that traveled up and down his body. He stared at the ceiling as he felt the sheet being moved, and he tried to block out the doctor's quiet comments. So determined was he to remove himself from the situation that he violently started when Dixie leaned into his face.
"Johnny?"
"Wh—what?" he stammered.
Early answered. "Were you kicked or hit in your groin?"
"Er—yeah." They hurt me…my God how they hurt me.
Early's reassuring voice reached through his rapidly blinking eyes. "You've got some bruising and swelling, but I don't think there's any serious damage."
The examination continued. He could feel Dr. Early's gentle probing, and he was irresistibly drawn back to the attack and the brutality of the men. His shaking grew progressively worse, and he opened his eyes to see Roy move closer to him.
"It's okay, Johnny," his partner told him. "Almost done."
"Johnny," Dr. Early said, "I need you to roll on your side, okay?"
He shivered even harder. Not this. I can't.
"Come on, Johnny," Dixie coaxed, nudging his shoulder.
"No." They hurt me…I can't…
He found himself on his side. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten there, but then he felt someone touching him, and even though the hands that probed him were careful and non-threatening, panic overtook him. With a cry of raw fear, he scrambled off the table, wrapping the sheet tightly around him. The IV ripped from his vein, sending a stream of blood down his arm. He backed against the wall, facing three people who had been close friends for years but who now were as alien as the men who had attacked him in the bar.
"Stay away from me."
He watched his friends watch him, all four of them wary and confused. It was Dr. Early who sized up the situation first.
"It's okay, Johnny. I know this is very difficult for you, but we're all here to help you."
"I want to go home." Despite his best intentions, his voice cracked.
Roy cautiously approached him. "I'll take you, but you need to let Dr. Early finish the exam."
"Take me home, Roy. You promised." He pleaded with his eyes, his voice, his being. "Now."
"You may have a concussion. You need x-rays. Just let Dr. Early finish, and then I'll take you right home. Okay?"
"I'm not a fuckin' kid!" Johnny shouted. "Just take me home!" He stumbled backward against the wall, knocking into several instruments, and the crash sounded like a thousand fireworks exploding in his head. He whirled, his hands covering his ears, the sheet still grasped in his fingers.
"Take me home," he cried, losing his battle with his fragile emotions. "Roy, you promised!" He stumbled for the door, only stopping when Dixie literally threw her arms around him, and he stood against her, allowing her soothing words to penetrate his growing panic.
"Johnny, I know you've been through a horrible ordeal, but you've got to let us help you. We're all your friends, you know that. We wouldn't do anything to hurt you, but you could have some serious injuries, and we want to help you. Will you let us?"
Johnny shook his head. "I can't…I'm sorry, Dix, but I just can't. I've gotta go home. Roy promised to take me home. I'll be okay, but I've gotta go home." As he spoke he wormed his way from Dixie's grasp, once again backing away from his friends. "Just…just let me go, please. I'm okay now. Really. I'll take some aspirin, and I'll get some rest, I promise, but I've gotta go."
"Johnny," Dr. Early said, stepping up to Dixie, "I promise we'll let you go home, but you need to let us take care of you first." He extended his hand. "Won't you let us help you?"
"I can't," he said, his eyes tearing. "Please understand. I can't do it."
Dixie tried again. "Johnny, you need to understand our viewpoint. We are obligated to protect our patients. We can't just let you walk out of here like that. You've been injured, and we want to help you. That's what we're here for. And that's doubly true for a friend. Just think how you feel when someone refuses treatment when you try to help them. You know that they need your help, but they won't let you. Doesn't that bother you? I know it does."
Johnny shook his head. "I don't care," he said. "Just let me out of here. You can't force me to stay."
Dr. Early stepped a little closer. "Johnny, I don't want to force you, but I will if need be. Now come on back to the table."
John raised his hand. "Doc, I'm leaving. I want some clothes so that I can go. Please."
Dixie placed her hands on her hips. "John Gage, I can't believe that you're fighting us like this. I know you're upset, but—"
"You don't know shit about what I'm feeling!" Johnny interrupted with a savagery that stopped the nurse cold. "How the hell would you know what I'm feeling? Any of you?"
"Johnny—"
"No!" Johnny stumbled to the door. "I'm leaving, and if you won't give me something to wear I'll just go like this! It doesn't matter to me, but I'm leaving and that's all there is to it." He glared at the trio, daring them to try anything more to convince him to stay, his chest heaving with a mixture of emotions. Tears filled his eyes, and he furiously wiped his face with the sheet, but his resolve never wavered. He was leaving, and there was nothing they could do about it.
"Johnny, listen to me." Dixie had inched closer to the distraught paramedic, and he fixed anguished eyes on her. "Just come back to the bed and lie down and we'll let you rest for awhile. We won't bother you, I promise. Will you do that for me? Just lie down on the bed. We can get x-rays and finish up later. Please?"
He could feel his determination to leave begin to dissolve. Immense weariness had slipped into his limbs, replacing the tense fear. Just to lie down, to rest. To forget…
"Okay," he whispered, dropping his hands a little as his muscles relaxed as one. "I'll lie down."
Early, Roy, and Dixie all sighed in relief, but Johnny never noticed as he took faltering steps back to the bed. Dixie helped get him situated and restarted his IV, while Dr. Early and Roy watched from the doorway. The nurse flashed a brief smile as she joined the men, and they slipped into the hall.
"Good work, Dix," Early said. "I really thought he was going to leave."
"Well, sometimes it takes a woman's touch," she replied, pleased.
Early turned to Roy. "We'll keep an eye on him, Roy. I don't believe he has a rectal perforation, but later I'll have to do a more thorough exam. We'll let him calm down for a bit."
"Sounds good, doc," Roy said, yawning.
Dixie raised her eyebrows. "You'd better get going," she said. "Try to get some sleep."
"Yeah, sounds good." Yawning again, Roy turned and made his way to the doors.
"Hey, Roy." Dwyer looked up from the table in the kitchen as he set his cup of coffee down.
Roy sat next to him, eyeing the coffee with surprise. "Dwyer, it's two in the morning," he observed.
"Yeah. Great time for coffee." The replacement paramedic grinned, then turned somber. "I heard about Gage. It's hard to believe."
"Tell me about it. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up from a bad dream."
Dwyer took a sip of coffee. "How…how bad…well, you know."
"Bad. I don't know all the details yet, but he's really been traumatized."
"Man. This job just gets more and more dangerous."
"Yeah. And I felt so helpless. I mean, it was a mob scene. I couldn't get near him. I know he blames me."
Dwyer shook his head. "That's too bad. I wonder—"
The klaxons sounded, and Dwyer's sentence was left unfinished as the paramedics trotted to the squad.