Voice of Reason

"Engine 24…Squad 51," the Captain called out about ten minutes after they had been dispatched. John reached out with his left hand and grabbed the mic off the dash bringing it to his lips.

"Squad 51…go ahead Engine 24."

"Can you advise on your ETA?" the Captain asked in a no-nonsense voice.

The dark haired paramedic glanced at the swiftly passing street signs and paused for only a few seconds, mentally calculating the answer to the question before depressing the button.

"Engine 24…Squad 51, our ETA is about two minutes. What have you got?"

"10-4. You're going to have to see this one to believe it," the Captain replied.

John looked over at his partner as he replaced the mic.

"Well," he said with an "I told you so" look upon his face, "I think it's safe to assume which end of that spectrum we are gonna end up on. Squad 24 is going to owe us lunch...at the very least."

Roy pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal as the squad picked up speed in response. His curiosity now peeked, John leaned forward to look through the windshield to determine if he could see their destination. He located the church with ease as it was clearly the tallest structure in the neighborhood. It was a big impressive building boasting a tall multi-pitched roof with various peaks…and an enormous steeple at the top.

He started to sit back when his keen eyes caught something and he leaned in again, blinking rapidly as if he was imagining what he was seeing.

The young paramedic's mouth dropped open.

"Wow…You have got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Roy asked, moving his eyes back and forth between the road in front of him and the look of astonishment on his partner's face.

They had responded to probably hundreds of rescues, and the senior paramedic felt that they had pretty much seen it all. He was baffled at what could have elicited such a reaction from his partner.

"Just drive Pal…you will see in a minute," John replied.

Roy pulled into the church lot, passing the two squad cars that were already on the scene, and parked near the engine. Both men exited the truck and he noticed every single person, along with his partner, had their necks craned towards the sky. He followed suit and stared at the roof of the church…and then he understood. The two paramedics moved towards the group of firemen and two police officers.

"Well boys...got any thoughts you'd care to share?" the Captain stated without averting his eyes. "Cause my men and I have been knocking ideas around while we waited for you, and so far have come up with nothing."

No one spoke as they continued to stare at the huge metal cross mounted at the very top of the steeple, and a person with their arms wrapped, hopefully securely, around it. John took the pair of binoculars the Captain handed to him and brought them to his eyes directing them upward. He adjusted the focus until he had a clear view.

"Whoa," he said under his breath.

He finally broke the silence.

"How in the world did that guy manage to get…Wait, why is he up there? Has he totally flipped out on drugs or something?" the young paramedic inquired, throwing out what he thought was a plausible explanation as he lowered the binoculars and stared at the group with a questioning look.

In response, Officer Vince Howard stepped forward with a dark haired woman in her late 30's at his side.

"Roy…John, this is the boy's mother," he stated as he gently took hold of the woman's arm. "The information we have is that her son Harold, who is sixteen, suffers from some mental health issues. He indicated to her this morning that he was hearing voices and they told him he had to climb to the highest place he could find to...uh...to be closer to...God." We talked to him over the bull horn and told him not to move. Honestly, I don't see anyway he can come down on his own…even if he wanted to," Vince replied with a concerned look.

"I'm so sorry for all the trouble he is causing," the woman sobbed in utter humiliation. "He has problems...and is confused and scared. Please, can you help him? Will you be able to get him down?"

"They are going to do everything possible ma'am," Vince assured her, patting her arm. The firemen looked at each other with a solemn expression; this was not going to be easy.

Their attention was diverted as a small blue vehicle cautiously entered into the lot and parked near them. The driver's side door swung open and a short, plump, elderly man struggled to extricate himself from inside. His brown loafers landed on the pavement as he proceeded to grab the door frame with his right hand, pulling himself forward as the left pushed against the back of his seat. He grunted at the effort, but once on his feet, pivoted around and shut the door. He slipped the car keys into the pocket of his slacks and seeing the group of men, he ambled as quickly as his legs would permit in their direction.

"Afternoon gentleman," he greeted, "Allow me to introduce myself...I'm Arthur Hill, the Senior Pastor of this Church. I just received a most urgent call at home indicating there was some trouble?"

"Yes Pastor," Vince replied and pointed to the top of the building."

The elderly man turned and tilted his head back, searching for the source of the problem. "I'm very sorry officer," he said in a contrite voice, "the old eyes just aren't what they used to be. I only live a few blocks from here and in my haste, I seem to have forgotten my other glasses at home. If you would be so kind…could you please explain what it is I'm supposed to be looking at?"

"Here Sir," John offered, handing him the binoculars. These may help…look at the top of the steeple."

"Why thank you young man," the pastor replied gratefully as he accepted them from the fireman, "these will be most helpful."

John had to resist the urge to move towards the squad and get the defibrillator out. He thought for sure the gentleman, who had to be pushing seventy, would have a heart attack when he finally understood what was going on."

"Oh…oh my goodness!" the man exclaimed.

"Pastor," the mortified woman said approaching the clergyman. "I'm so terribly sorry for all of this," she repeated again. "My son, Harold, he suffers from a mental illness…and it has been getting worse. Please, I -I promise I will find a way to pay for any damage he causes," she replied in a defeated voice as the tears slowly rolled down her cheeks.

The gray haired man lowered the binoculars and offered them back to John. He then reached out and gently took hold of the hands she was wringing together helplessly into his own, and turned to face her.

"What is your name?" he asked in a soothing voice.

"It's...Ann," she managed to choke out as she continued to stare at the ground, not wanting to face the man before her.

"Ann," he repeated softly, "Please...do not burden yourself with thoughts of restitution for anything that may get broken. I am not the least bit distressed about damage to the building; the physical "things" of this life are insignificant. What matters most at this particular moment is to focus our energy and prayers that these brave young men get your son down safely…Yes?" he asked her as he moved his head to the side trying to see her face.

The woman nodded her head, but couldn't bring herself to look up at the man despite his kind hearted words.

"Yes of course it is!" he proclaimed with confidence. "And once that is accomplished, I would very much like to see what I can do to help you…and Harold. Where, if I may be so bold as to ask, is your husband?"

The woman came completely unhinged at the mention of her husband, and broke down sobbing as the older man now moved to put his arm around her shoulders providing comfort and support. He waited patiently while she struggled to regain her composure. The group of men, seeing the mother was in capable hands, moved quietly away to resume their discussion at the difficult rescue they now faced.


"He…just…left…us," Ann replied through her tears. "H-he said he couldn't take it anymore. She paused for a moment and then continued in a voice still shaking with emotion, "Pastor...I d-don't understand. Why do the people we l-love and depend on r-run away when things in life get hard...and leave others to c-cope with the p-problems?"

"Why," she sobbed into the handkerchief already soaked with her tears, "do they t-think when the b-burden becomes so heavy, that it's n-no longer their obligation to carry? I-I truly believed if you loved and cared for someone enough, and made a commitment to them, you are there for the good times AND the b-bad. Isn't – isn't that how it's supposed to be?" She paused as her own words, which she hadn't dared to express to anyone before, penetrated her heart at finally hearing them out loud. "I g-guess I'm just...a fool."

The older man gazed upon the troubled woman with tenderness.

"My dear, I'm afraid there is no simple answer to your question for the reasons why people behave as they do. I must admit, of course, that I do have my own theories," he said with a knowing shake of his head. "I will, however, adamantly pronounce that you most certainly are not a fool. I believe you are a strong woman and a caring mother who has not abandoned a child whom desperately needs you. Ann, you are a proper example of what it means to demonstrate unconditional love."

"The latter question I feel I can answer with 100% certainty. You are not mistaken…that is the way it's supposed to be. I firmly believe how each of us deal with the tribulations we must face in life depends on the amount of faith, courage and strength inside us…to persevere through the hard times. Many people are under the misconception that life is supposed to be easy. It is not. And as difficult, painful, and unfair as our situations may seem, we must try to understand they have value... something important to teach us. Now these trials may not always be lessons we willingly want to learn, but are an integral part of our life's journey."

The pastor paused and stared intently at the younger woman before continuing.

"Tell me my dear, if you had never experienced disappointment…how would you recognize joy? If you never had your heart broken at the loss of a loved one...how else would you truly understand how very precious life is and something to be cherished; never taken for granted! Do we forget at times? The answer is yes; quite frequently I'm afraid. We are only human and fall prey to materialism, jealousy, and countless other vices and temptations of this world. But there are reminders all around us...for what truly matters most. Sometimes they are conveyed in the words of a heartfelt song...a beautiful picture...or a meaningful quote." He closed his eyes momentarily and a look of contentment washed over his face. "Or even appreciating the wonders of nature; watching the magnificent splendor of the orange sun as it sets across the vast ocean signaling the end to another day." He smiled at the memory before opening his eyes.

"These reminders, Ann, make us stop and think. They can make you cry from the very depths of your soul, take your breath away in a moment of pure joy, or provide you with a deep sense of purpose or peace. Sometimes, however, the reminders are tragic. For example, when a disaster strikes; like recent incidents of hurricanes or wildfires. But even here, we can see people re-connecting with what is important. They are not concerned with money, status, or what a person's beliefs are. During a time of crisis the compassion for others takes a front and center role, and core values resurface. Those things may be buried very deep in some people, but I firmly believe they still exist, and when it emerges...it is a wondrous thing to behold!"

The pastor looked over at the group of men deep in conversation. "Ann," he said softly, "why don't we walk over to the front of the church and have a seat on one of the benches and we can chat some more while these firemen work. There is something else I would very much like to share with you."

The young woman dared to lift her head and tentatively gazed into the elderly man's face. His skin was deeply tanned and the wrinkles, too many to count, creased his forehead, cheeks, and mouth. But the feature that was most prominent to her was his beautiful pale blue eyes. The genuine concern and compassion he projected by his simple stare was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time. She had become so accustom to people not understanding Harold's illness, and worse, not even wanting to. The last year she had felt so isolated, and her heart had been broken from watching the cruel and judgmental treatment Harold had endured; even from his own family. How could they even suggest she dump him off in some institution and just forget he existed?

If people would just give him a chance they would discover Harold possessed a gentle soul, was kind, and extremely intelligent. Why couldn't they look beyond his problem and see what an exceptionally wonderful person he really was.

She cast her eyes to the top of the church steeple and saw the outline of Harold's body against the backdrop of blue sky; his arms embracing the cross for dear life.

She felt a flood of emotion overwhelm her.

This was her son…her flesh and blood. She still held onto the pastor's arm, but stood up straight and tall. At that precise moment, she made a life changing commitment to herself that she would no longer feel embarrassed or apologetic for Harold's illness. She would do whatever it took to help her son live the best life he possibly could.

He deserved nothing less.

She turned to look again into the sensitive pale blue eyes of the man standing next to her. The pastor simply smiled back with a perceptive nod of his head.

"Maybe my dear," the elderly man stated matter-of-factly, "Harold ended up here for a very good reason."

"I think pastor," the dark haired woman proclaimed as she gave him a small smile and allowed herself to be guided to the edge of the parking lot, "You just may be right."


The group of firemen stood in a half circle assessing the situation and brainstorming ideas.

"Well Cap," Roy replied as he stared up at Harold, "We're not going to be able to use either the snorkel or ladder trucks; neither one will be able to reach him, and with the steeple being right in the middle of the building surrounded by the varying pitches of the roof…" his voice trailed off.

John joined in, "We can't use the line gun and run a traverse," he said shaking his head. "There's nothing at either end tall enough to secure the rope too. We might be able to repel from a copter, but I already see some major issues with that. First of all, it's a risky set up given the surroundings, and I don't think the pilot is gonna go for it. It will also take some time for them to get here and we really don't have the luxury of waiting. And," he continued, "I'm afraid the wind force from the blades would be a factor and might knock him right off that platform. When I looked through the binoculars, that cross is mounted on a small base just wide enough for his feet to fit on. One wrong step…"

The young paramedic didn't need to finish the sentence; everyone understood the ramifications.

"And," Roy added in frustration as he loosened the chin strap on his helmet and ripped it off his head, "We can't climb up the way he did. There is nothing to tie off too, so we would be in the same situation he is. I don't know how he managed to make it up there without falling, but I agree with Vince, free climbing back down is definitely not an option."

"Ok," the Captain said "My crew and I pretty much covered all that ground while we were waiting for you guys, and we currently are in agreement on everything we can't do…so now we need to figure out what we can do."

The junior paramedic paused as his eyes surveyed the roof. "Cap," he said slowly, "I think I may have an idea on how to reach him, but I haven't worked out the logistics of how to actually get him down."

The Captain turned to the young man. "Well, it's a start…let's hear what you got."

"Okay," John stated as he turned his attention back to the group. "On the way here, about a block and a half down the street, there's a big office building under construction. They have some heavy equipment there, including a large crane that was being used to place an air conditioning unit on the roof. The crane would fit in here and between manipulating the boom and the main hoist line, I'm pretty confident we could at least get to him."

The Captain slowly nodded his head. "Gage, I like it. I think it just might work." He turned and waved one of the policemen over.

"What's up?" Vince asked as he approached the men.

"Listen, can you do us a big favor?"

"Name it…unless you are gonna ask me to climb up after the kid. I don't do well with heights," the young officer admitted readily.

"Wouldn't think of it Pal," the man said with a grin. "But do you think you can go down the street to that office building under construction? See if you can talk the foreman into letting us borrow their crane and his operator. The faster they can get here…the better."

"You got it Captain," the officer replied as he turned and jogged quickly to his squad.

"Johnny," the blonde haired paramedic stated "The operator might be able to get the boom right up next to him. We could get a safety belt on him, tie him off on a line to us, and just climb down the boom."

"I don't know Roy, first of all we don't even know if he is going to cooperate or try and fight us. Secondly, I think it would be a long and treacherous climb down."

"Yea," Roy nodded in frustrated agreement as he shifted his helmet into his other hand, "I'm just spit balling ideas."

"I was thinkin," Johnny said, "about using the ball on the hoist to ride up on, but there is isn't enough room for two people to go down. And man, we have zero real estate up there to operate; everything is gonna have to be done from the crane," John replied rubbing the side of his face. "I also thought about rigging a block and tackle off the boom, but because of the location of the steeple, the guys on the ground are not going to be in a position to man the line to lower him down. It's not like we are dealing with a straight vertical structure…like a side of a building. I also think we are gonna have to go down with him; he may try to undo his belt or something. I just…I just don't feel comfortable sending him down alone."

The men nodded their heads, indicating they agreed with his assessment.

"Okay…okay…how about this," Roy stated some excitement building in his voice. "We loop the line for the block and tackle at the top of the boom and..."

"Roy," John interrupted, "I just said the guys can't man the line from here in the parking lot, and there is no way one of us up on the crane can do it."

"I know…just let me finish."

"Okay," the senior paramedic began again, "we ride the ball all the way up and loop the line off the tip of the crane. We know the guys can't man the line from the ground here…but," he said pointing towards the building, "the roof is flat just below those peaks…see? The guys would be able to manage it from that area on the roof. We would just have to do this in two stages, and getting him down from that location would be a piece of cake in comparison."

John nodded his head catching on. "Right…right…once the block and tackle is in place, we drop the line to the guys waiting on the roof. We stay on the hoist line and it swings us next to the steeple and then lowers us to Harold. Once we get the safety belt on him with the line that is attached to the block and tackle, the crane drops us alongside him while the guys lower Harold on the line."

Roy smiled at his partner. "Exactly…we would just have to have the crane operator, once Harold is secure, swing the boom back out about fifteen feet so we can clear those peaks, and then it is a straight shot down to the top of the roof."

"Cap, what do you think?"

"It sounds like a solid plan. The only hitch is…Harold."

The men sighed knowing the Captain was right, but regardless of what plan they came up with, Harold was going to be an unknown factor.

The firemen stopped talking as they heard the sound of a loud engine drawing closer. They turned and saw the large crane making its way into the parking lot being led by the police cruiser.

Johnny gave a quick backward glance at Harold before hurrying over to the squad. He opened the compartment door and removed his safety belt, swinging it effortlessly around his slim waist.

Roy was suddenly at his side and grabbed his arm.

"Wait a minute…what do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"I got this Roy," John replied as he continued adjusting the belt and securing it before reaching in for the spare.

"Ya know you don't have to take every high rescue. It's my turn anyways and…"

The younger man cut him off with a loud groan. "Look, I know it's supposed to be your turn. I checked the tally record this morning. And, before you go there, I KNOW you are more than competent to do this rescue. The blonde haired paramedic gave his partner a surprised look. "Roy, give me a break, I can tell by the look on your face what thoughts are rattling around in your head. You don't have exclusive rights to that particular talent, but that's beside the point. Let's be realistic here, high rescues do not exactly make your top ten list of enjoyable activities." The dark haired paramedic frowned. "I just feel that I need to do this one…okay? Listen, if it bothers you that much, you can do the next three if it will make you feel better. Plus I will throw in a water rescue," he finished with a classic grin.

The blonde haired paramedic looked warily at his partner. This wasn't just a high rescue…this was a somewhat unique and precarious situation. They never knew exactly how a victim was going to respond, but clearly there were some extenuating circumstances. Roy knew if they lost this boy, his young partner would look at it as a failure on his part...That was just the way the John was wired.

"Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You understand this rescue has a strong possibility of not turning out…the way we planned. He may jump when you get close to him…he may grab on to you before you get the belt on him…or…"

"Roy STOP. I know…I get it. Please just trust me," the young man stated. "Now come on we're wasting time, we need to get the rest of the stuff and get movin. Let's also get the ambulance rolling so they are here and we can transport right away."

Roy took a deep breath and let go of his partner's arm. John immediately finished attaching the spare safety belt he had been holding into the hook of his belt. He grabbed his gloves and some rope before slamming the door shut. He reached into the cab of the squad and snatched the radio harness out of the glove box and looped it over his head and under his arm before picking up the HT and clipping it on the end.

"Can you get the block and tackle?" he asked and tried to give his partner a reassuring grin when he saw the look of concern on his face.

Roy slowly nodded his head.

The dark haired paramedic spotted the boy's mother sitting with the pastor on a bench in front of the church. He walked over and went down on one knee in front of her.

"Ma'am?" he said gently.

She looked up into his soft chocolate brown eyes. For the second time that day, she did not see scorn or judgment...but genuine concern.

"Ma'am," he said again. "My name is John. I'm going to be the one to go up and get your son. We'll be using that crane that just pulled into the lot to help us out. I just wanted to ask you a few questions first…if it's ok with you."

"Yes…yes of course," she said as she twisted the handkerchief in her hands. "What do you want to know?"

"Can you tell me exactly what kind of illness your son has, and is he currently on any medications? Also, are there certain things I should or shouldn't say to him? I have to try and keep him calm and I don't want to say or do something that is going to trigger a negative reaction and further upset him. I'm going to need his cooperation to get him down."

The dark haired woman looked at him appreciatively. "Thank you…for caring and understanding enough to ask." The young paramedic smiled encouragingly at her.

"Yes, there are some things you should know," she replied. "He has not been officially diagnosed, but they believe he may be schizophrenic. He's not on any medications, but I hope to find a doctor who can help him. He hears voices and may become confused if you talk to fast or give him multiple directions at once. Also, you have to gain his trust. My son is a smart boy and he will know if you lie to him. If that happens you will never get him to go along with any suggestions you may ask him to do."

John nodded his head, "Can you tell me how he reacts to needles and sedatives? Does he have any allergies to medications? And…would it freak him out at the mention of a shot?"

"He is not afraid of shots, he has had them before," she stated "It just depends on his state of mind. If he is paranoid and believes others are out to get him, he may think the shot is poison. But if he trusts the person giving it to him, it would probably be fine. And no, he does not have any allergies."

"Would you give permission for me to give him a sedative if the doctor approves it; and the situation warranted it?" John asked.

"Yes...yes of course you have my permission," she replied with a nod of her head.

Before standing up John took her hand in his. "I'm going to do everything in my power to get him down safely…okay?"

Tears filled her eyes again as she whispered, "Yes…I believe you will."

He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, and looked over at the man seated next to her. The elderly pastor gave him a warm smile and a single firm pat on the shoulder.

John Gage got up and walked back to the group of men gathered around the crane. The Captain had called for another engine crew, and they were just pulling into the lot. Several men were already collecting other equipment and making preparations to head up to the roof.

"Roy, can you get on the horn to Rampart and see if they would approve a sedative for Harold," John asked, "I already checked and he doesn't have any allergies and his mother gave the go ahead." Roy nodded and turned to kneel down next to the biophone that was on the ground behind him.

John and the Captain walked over to the crane operator and explained what they wanted to do. The man's eyes had initially shown his shock at the situation, but he listened intently, nodding his head.

"Do you think you can manage it?" the Captain asked.

"Sir, I have been operating a crane for eighteen years. I can maneuver this piece of equipment in my sleep. I've got this…no problem."

"Johnny," Roy called out as he placed the handle of the biophone back into the case. "I got Rampart up to speed on what's going on and Brackett approved 10 mg of Diazepam IM."

"Ok…good deal. Can you load up a syringe for me and afterwards put the cap securely back on the end," he asked as he trotted back over to the squad and opened the side compartment, pulling out the drug box.

"What for?" Roy asked in surprise. "John, you can't have the pack up there, you wouldn't be able to reach it. Besides there is no way you can sedate him…he'll fall."

"I know," the young man replied as he set the black box on the ground next to Roy and opened it up, "I'm going to tape it to my leg. Once I get the belt on him and he is secure, I might have an opportunity to use it if he refuses to let go. It will make it a hell of a lot easier on ALL of us. I'm not saying I can or will…it's just another option that would be available to me." He leaned over and and snagged a small package containing an alcohol wipe and jammed it in his pocket. In all likelihood, he probably wouldn't have time to use it, but decided it couldn't hurt to bring it along.

John stood up and proceeded to attach the rope to Harold's safety belt and made sure it was secure; the less he had to do from the crane the better. He put the coil of rope over his head and lifted his arm through. Roy waited until he was ready and then handed him the capped syringe. John held it against the left side of his thigh towards the back. He wanted easy access, but would be mindful to keep that side of his body away from Harold.

Roy knelt down next to his partner and applied a strip of tape securing the syringe in place, shaking his head at the ideas his young friend was able to come up with on the fly.

John caught the action. "Hey Pally, desperate times call for creative solutions."

"Just make sure you don't stab yourself junior…or let Harold get his hands on it."

"Thanks for the profound advice…and the show of confidence. I will definitely try to keep both in mind."

John double checked he had everything before walking over to the crane. He situated himself on the ball before locking his hook onto the hoist. Roy stood by and handed his partner the block and tackle when he was ready.

"You all set Gage?"

"Yea Cap...I think so," John answered.

"Ok, keep in contact on the HT…and good luck," the Captain stated.

Roy gave John a worried glance. "Be careful up there…you hear me?

"Yea, I will. See ya in a bit," the dark haired paramedic replied.

The Captain brought the HT to his mouth, "HT 24 …Engine 24… you set on the roof?"

"Engine 24…HT 24…affirmative. We're ready."

The Captain looked at the crane operator. "Ok, bring him up."

All eyes scanned back and forth between Harold and the quickly ascending paramedic on the end of the hoist, as Roy fiddled nervously with the HT in his hands. The tension on the ground was rising…only time would tell how this one would play out.


The young paramedic reached the top of the crane and quickly went to work. He had the line looped and was ready within moments. It was hot and the sweat was already starting to build on his forehead and run down his face. He raised a gloved hand to wipe his brow before reaching for the HT.

"Engine 24…HT 51. Ok…we're good. Go ahead and swing me over so I'm just above the crew on the roof," he stated.

"10-4."

The large boom slowly shifted until it was in position.

"HT24…HT51…heads up. I'm dropping the line."

"10-4."

John let the line go, and saw the men beneath him scramble to pick it up and get set.

"Ok, as they lower me," he said into the radio "let the slack run on the victim's line until I'm even with him...10-4?"

"We copy."

John could feel the adrenaline starting to build in his body and consciously took a couple of deep breaths; an adrenaline rush was not what he needed right now. He wasn't racing to hi-tail it out of a burning building that was about to explode. He knew needed to stay relaxed and try to connect with this young man, earning his trust. The dark haired paramedic fervently hoped that Harold had enough and would willingly come with him. He took one more breath before bringing the radio to his mouth. It was time…

"Engine 24…HT 51."

"Go ahead 51."

"Ok, swing me in about another ten feet…and then lower me until I'm level with him. I want to make verbal contact first before you get me right up next to him. I think we need to take this real slow."

"You got it."

John felt the boom move and then the hoist slowly lower him. Mentally his mind started running through what he was going to say to Harold…while also trying to figure out different "what if" scenarios.

"Right there…right there…hold it," he said into the HT. The crane came to a stop.

The teenager's back was to him…and he stood as still as a statue. The young paramedic wondered for a moment if he was in a catatonic state.

"Harold?" he called out cautiously.

There was no response.

"Harold…my name is Johnny. I'm a fireman. Everything is going to be ok. I'm here to help you."

"Harold…can you talk to me?" John asked gently trying again.

"Go…away," the boy mumbled, "I…I'm not allowed to come down yet…the voices say I have to stay."

"Oh man…definitely not the response I was looking for," John thought.

"Can you tell me why they want you to stay?" he asked, wanting to keep him talking.

"Because…because everyone hates me. I'm no good…I'm bad...I'm bad," Harold replied in a frightened voice.

"Harold, I don't hate you. That is why I'm up here with you…because I care and want to help," John replied.

"Don't listen to him. He is lying to you Harold…just like all the rest. He doesn't CARE about you. He is just saying that…he is disgusted by you and all the problems you cause. Your bad and nobody loves you. Tell him to go away and leave you alone!"

The boy cried out "don't you hear them? They are calling you a liar and that you are disgusted by me…they want you to leave me alone."

John struggled for a moment with how to reply. The boy's mother was very adamant about not lying to him. But how would the kid respond if he was honest and acknowledge that he didn't hear the voices? Would it enrage him? That was what he was trying to avoid at all cost. Briefly the young fireman began to wonder if he had been wrong; maybe Roy would have been better suited at talking with the kid. He finally decided on his course of action…and hoped it was the right one.

"Harold, I have to be honest with you. I don't hear the voices…but I truly believe that you do."

John spoke slowly and in a comforting tone. "I know it must be very confusing for you; the voices telling you one thing and me another...but please listen. I want to earn your trust. The voices want me to leave you alone because they know I'm a friend…and I'm here to help. They are frightened by me…but you don't have to be."

The boy, ever so slowly, turned his head to look at the paramedic. "They are frightened of you…because you are…a friend?" he asked in a questioning voice.

John became alert and cautiously watched the boy when he saw the movement. Harold's head was cocked to the side and his face contorted as if he was trying to work out and extremely complex problem. The troubled green eyes briefly met with the gentle brown ones and John smiled and nodded. Harold quickly cast his glance in another direction, fearful that he had disobeyed the voices.

"Harold," John stated, "I would like to be able to move closer to you, but friends always ask permission first…because that is how we show trust and respect to one another."

"He is trying to trick you…you IDIOT. Listen to us…not him."

The boy shook his head as if trying to physically remove the ramblings going on inside his head.

"They called me an idiot…said you are trying to trick me," Harold replied.

"True friends don't make you feel bad inside…and they don't call you names. I promise, all I want to do is make sure you are safe. I'm not trying to trick you," John answered back.

Harold squeezed his eyes tight and the dark haired paramedic knew there was a private war raging inside the teenager's head. It was a war that he was now actively involved in…and had to win.


Roy started pacing backing and forth…still rolling the HT around in his hands. He had brought it up to his mouth on several occasions and it took all his willpower not to key up and ask his partner how things were going. He knew he couldn't. John had to focus all his attention on getting Harold to understand…and cooperate. Any attempts at initiating contact could be a game changer. But the longer this went on, the more anxious the group on the ground was getting. Roy glanced over at the rest of the crew. The Captain had the binoculars glued to his eyes and it was trained up at the steeple; his lips were drawn into a tight line.

"Cap, what's it looking like?" Roy asked as he came to a halt.

"Well…I can tell Gage has got him talking. The kid turned his head to look at him, but it's hard to tell if he is making any headway or not. The blonde haired paramedic sighed and resumed his pacing.

"Rescue 51…this is Rampart...how do you read me?"

Roy jumped slightly at the sound of Dr. Brackett's gruff voice. He quickly knelt next to the biophone and reached into the orange case picking up the handle.

"This is Rescue 51…we read you loud and clear Rampart."

"10-4…Can you give us an update? Do you have your victim on the ground yet?"

"Negative Rampart, Gage is still up on the crane talking to him. We don't know how long this is gonna take…We will keep you advised."

There was a short pause on the other end of the radio and Roy knew the staff at the hospital was feeling the strain as well.

"10-4."

Dr. Brackett released the button on the radio and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. His mouth twitched uneasily. He looked over at his head nurse who was seated on the stool at the base station. Her eyes were looking over a chart she had on the table before her. She felt the doctor's stare and looked up.

"Dix, were you able to get hold of Dr. Sheldon from the psychiatric ward?"

"Yes Kel, he's upstairs and said to give him a call when the young man gets here."

"Ok…good. I just want to check him over first and make sure there is nothing physically wrong with him." He reached over to pour himself a cup of coffee as he spoke.

"Dr. Brackett please report to pathology," a voice called out over the loud speaker.

"Must be the results on the Stafford case," he said replacing the unfilled cup back on the counter. "Dix, call me if you hear anything from Gage and DeSoto…I will be back as soon as I can."

The pretty nurse gave him a tight smile.

"Of course, I will let you know."

The doctor turned and walked swiftly down the hallway as Dixie absentmindedly tapped her long nails on the table. She had heard the details of the call the boys were on and her thoughts went out to the mother and son. She said a silent prayer for the victim's safety, and also included a certain dark haired paramedic whom she knew at that moment was dangling off the end of a crane. Dixie shuddered at the thought and gave another glance over to the radio, which remained frustratingly quiet.


"Harold, we will take this real slow...ok?" John stated as he eyed the boy carefully.

The teenager said nothing but pressed the right side of his face up against the cross. Tears slowly slid down the pale cheek as he re-adjusted his grip on the metal structure.

John noticed several lacerations on the boy's arms that continued to bleed. "Harold," he replied, "I can see that you are hurt. Your arms are bleeding pretty bad from some cuts. I'm a paramedic…do you know what that is?"

The boy responded by shaking his head. That was a good sign, John thought, at least the boy was still listening and had not shut him out.

"It means that I take care of people who are hurt," he answered, "I would like to help you Harold, but I can't do that from up here. We have to go down to where my equipment is."

"It's another lie dummy…just ignore him. You aren't going ANYWHERE until we say so."

"Are you hurt any place else?"

Harold shook his head again. "Johnny," he whispered in a voice so soft the young paramedic almost didn't hear him. "I want to go with you…but they will get angry if I don't listen to them."

It was the break John Gage had been hoping for. He now needed to switch tactics and try to gain some control…without losing the boy's confidence and trust in him.

"Harold, you just need to stay right where you are. I'm gonna come a little closer to you. All I want to do it put this belt around your waist, you don't have to do a thing…just keep still. Everything is going to be ok...I promise."

The boy looked tired but slowly nodded his head. John cautiously reached around for the HT. "Engine 24…HT 51...bring the boom alongside the cross…slow and easy."

The Captain brought the HT to his mouth.

"10-4."

He turned to the crane operator, "Ok, you heard him…slow and easy." The man nodded and his hands positioned themselves on the levers and the boom began to move; all eyes were fixed on the activity above. Roy stood still but could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

John tensed somewhat as he felt the rig move. He kept a watchful eye on Harold...alert for any signs of trouble. He saw none. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he now was right next to him. He had to keep pushing the adrenaline rush back down as he consciously fought the urge to just throw the belt around the kid as quickly as possible.

"HT 24…from HT 51…you ready on that line?"

"HT 24…that's affirmative…we're a go."

John let the radio drop to his side and his attention went back to the teen.

"You're doing good Harold…you're doing really good," He said soothingly as he reached down and unhooked the spare belt. "Now…all I'm going to do is wrap this around your waist; it's just like the one I have on." The paramedic adjusted himself on the ball of the hoist, and slowly leaned forward towards the boy. He could see, now that he was physically going to touch him, that Harold had tensed up.

"You're doing great,"he repeated again. The paramedic knew if the boy made any sudden movements before the belt was on and the guys below had him, Harold would lose his balance and fall. John also knew there would be little he could do to stop it. If he were on a line it would be a different story…he would be in a better position to hold on to him. But sitting on the ball securely hooked onto the hoist, it would be difficult at best. He pushed the thought from his mind and concentrated on keeping the teen calm.

"Harold," John continued talking as the belt made contact with the boy's body, "your mom is waiting for us in the parking lot. I can tell how much she loves you…and she is really worried."

"There he goes again with the lies…your mom is HOPING that you fall from here so she can be rid of you. You're a huge burden to her…why do you think your dad left. Or are you too stupid to figure that out."

"No…my mom…she loves me. I know she does," he whimpered.

"That's right…she loves you very much," the young paramedic replied, not understanding the boy was not talking to him.

"Why…what is there about you to love? And WHY are you letting this para-whatever get close to you? You ARE too stupid to think for yourself. You need to stop him… AND STOP HIM NOW!"

John had successfully gotten the belt between Harold's stomach and the cross. He had the first strap threaded and just finished securing it…completely unaware of the dangerous conversation taking place in the boy's mind. The dark haired paramedic had decided to keep the straps to his victim's back, giving some added protection from him possibly undoing them on the way down. John Gage did not want to leave anything to chance. He was reaching to thread the second strap when the voices once again gained the upper hand over the boy's controls.


Harold's body jolted in terror at the sound and intensity of the order he was given. He quickly let go of the cross as his fingers curled tight and he began violently swinging his arms; his left elbow connected solidly with his rescuer's face.

John had relaxed thinking he was almost home free. He had leaned around the boy and just started to slide the second strap into place when Harold's body literally erupted in an explosion of movement. Without warning, the dark haired paramedic felt the blow to his face. The pain was intense and his eyes began to water furiously as he felt the blood flowing rapidly from his nose. His initial instinct was to reach for his now throbbing face; but he ignored the impulse and instead reached out attempting to get his arms around the boy and restrain him. John groaned in frustration; everything was a blur and he blinked in rapid succession as he tried to get his eyes to focus.

"NO…PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP…TELL THEM TO LEAVE ME ALONE!" Harold bellowed in fear.

"Harold…it's ok…it's…" the young paramedic shouted out before the boy lost his footing and slipped from the platform. John managed to get his arms around his chest, but Harold's arms and legs continued to flail in despair. The men on the roof had the line, but Harold had dropped several feet below the ball John was sitting on. His vision had cleared and John watched as Harold's fingers now clawed at the belt that was only partially secured around his waist. He couldn't bring himself to let go of the boy. His body, bent at an awkward angle, screamed in protest as he struggled to hold on to the terrified teen. John knew there was no way he could possibly reach the HT and communicate to the crew and Captain to lower the line and hoist together. The men on the roof, seeing what had happened, would surely try to get Harold on the ground as fast as possible. If the Captain didn't give the word to the crane operator he would have no choice; he would be forced to let go. Harold gave up on the safety belt and turned his attack back onto the man who held him. The dark haired paramedic ignored the painful blows that continued to rain down on him, and kept up a persistent flow of encouraging words. John Gage closed his eyes, as he held on for dear life, and waited for the firemen on the ground to come to his aid.

It was all he could do.


"DAMN IT," the Captain shouted out as he witnessed the scene unfolding at the top of the steeple through the binoculars. The others knew there was trouble from the flurry of movement they were seeing as well.

"We've got to get them down NOW," the captain shouted. "Gage is still holding on to him…so I can't tell if he has the kid secure or not."

"HT 24 from Engine 24…stand by. You will lower your line on my command. First we are gonna have to swing the boom out away from the steeple. You need to let me know when Gage and the victim are directly above you."

"10-4 Cap."

The Captain turned to the crane operator. "You need to listen to me and do EXACLY what I say. Start to swing the boom out slowly…and be prepared to stop when I tell you to…got it?"

"Yes Sir" he replied as he manipulated the controls and the huge piece of machinery started to move.

"Hold it Cap!" a voice shouted from the HT several seconds later.

The Captain raised his hand making a fist…and the boom came to a halt.

"Ok…good. Now on my signal, he continued saying to the operator, "start to lower the hoist. You need to keep speed with the men on the line…understand?"

The man nodded his head rapidly up and down, and kept his eyes fixed on the man in charge.

The Captain thrust the binoculars into Roy's hands. "DeSoto…I need you to monitor their decent and let me know if the crane is lowering Gage to fast or slow with the men on Harold's line. Got it?"

"Yea Cap…I got it," Roy responded as he readily accepted the binoculars and immediately brought them to his eyes. He swallowed hard as he saw Johnny struggling with the combative teen. The blonde haired paramedic sucked in his breath as he noted the bizarre angle his partner was hanging from and the blood on his face. He unintentionally squeezed the binoculars harder in his frustration.

"Engine 24…HT 24…ok, start to lower the victim's line." As he spoke, the Captain pointed at the crane operator and nodded his head. The man turned his eyes and skillfully maneuvered the hoist to keep pace with the men working the line on the roof. This was something he had definitely not planned on when he rolled out of bed this morning.

His knew his wife would never believe it.

John felt the boom shake…and then begin to move sideways. Seconds later, both the hoist and Harold's line began a simultaneous downward decent and he knew the Captain understood the predicament he was in…and what needed to be done. He was panting now with the exertion, but hung on realizing they soon would be on solid ground. Within moments he felt hands reaching out to guide them the rest of the way down.

"Gage…you ok?…you alright?" an unknown voice shouted out.

"Yea…yea…I'm alright," he answered in a relieved tone.

John quickly wiped his face, trying to remove some of the blood and sweat, before turning his attention to his patient who was still struggling under the hands of the firemen.

"Please Johnny…please make them leave me alone," the boy whimpered.

"Harold…it's ok. I'm still here," he said in a reassuring voice. "I'm your friend…remember? You can trust me."

John knew he needed to get the boy calmed down. "Harold, you need to listen to me now. Everything is going to be ok...I'm going to give you something that is going to help you relax."

John quickly felt along his left leg until his fingers came upon the syringe. He pulled the tape away and the item fell into his hands. He brought it up to eye level and removed the cap, pushing the plunger until a short stream of liquid shot into the air. Satisfied, he then reached into his pocket and pulled out the small crumpled package containing an alcohol wipe.

"Here Joe…can you hold this a second? Don't touch the end," he warned as he handed the syringe to one of the fireman from Station 24. They dark haired paramedic knelt next to the boy and swabbed down his arm; he nodded his head extending his hand out to accept the syringe. He quickly injected the sedative and then withdrew the needle. Within minutes the boy began to calm down and started to close his eyes; he was exhausted.

"I'm s-sorry…" he mumbled as the crew of firemen picked up him and secured him in the stokes.

"It's ok buddy," Johnny said in a gentle voice as he patted the teenagers shoulder. "I told you everything was going to ok...you just lay there and relax."

The young paramedic, out of the corner of his eye, saw his partner jogging rapidly towards him.

"How's the boy?" Roy asked.

"Just some cuts on his arms…and probably a few bumps that we can take care of when we get him down from here, but otherwise I think he is ok."

"Good. Now…how are you?"

"Ahh…I'm fine Roy, just a little banged up is all."

Roy glanced over and waited until the firemen had moved Harold away...out of earshot. "That's why you're covered in blood? And what about your back? Unless you have taken up yoga classes…I'm thinkin it has got to be hurting a bit right now junior."

John sighed…big brother was at it again.

The group finally made it to the parking lot with their victim, who was now relaxed and calm. The pastor and Harold's mother came rushing over as the woman knelt down next to her son collecting his hand in hers.

"I love you Harold…everything is going to be ok. You hear me?"

He gave her a weak smile before closing his eyes.

Roy reached in to grab the biophone and contact the hospital as Johnny worked on his young patient collecting the vital signs. After confirming there were no other injuries, he began to treat the lacerations to Harold's arms.

The woman looked up to thank the dark haired paramedic and bit her lip as she saw his face...and the blood that had dripped down staining his light blue shirt.

"I want to tell you how extremely grateful I am for what you did," she said quiet voice. "I- I know how difficult it can be to get him to understand under the best of conditions, and this, I can't even imagine. I'm so sorry that you were hurt. Please understand it really wasn't him…if that makes any sense."

Johnny looked at the woman and gave her a reassuring smile. "Ma'am…I understand. He did real good. I could tell he wanted to believe me; he was trying so hard. And please don't worry about me, it looks a lot worse than it really is…I'm fine. I'm just thankful we were able to get him down from there with only a few minor cuts."

She nodded her head.

"We're going to take him into Rampart and the ER doctor wants to check him over," the dark haired paramedic explained, "They have an excellent psychiatrist standing by who is going to evaluate Harold and sit down with you and go over some treatment options. I'm going to go in with him and make sure he is comfortable with the new faces he will be seeing. You can ride along in the front with the driver if you like."

John nodded to the attendants and they proceeded to load Harold into the back of the ambulance.

"Yes," she replied as she turned her head. "Pastor, would you go to the hospital with me please? It-it would be nice to have someone there who…understands."

"But of course my dear…of course! I will take my car and meet you there. I just need to make a brief phone call to the Missus so she doesn't worry."

The paramedics paused from gathering up their equipment to look up into the older man's gentle face. His eyes were bright and hopeful.

"My grandson," he explained "suffers from a mental health illness as well. My loved ones and I have traveled this path before, and I am more than willing to help these good people through this difficult time in whatever way I can be of service."

"And may I say," he continued, "that you firemen did a superb job here today! I'm simply amazed at your creative ingenuity. To be honest, I would have been completely bamboozled if I have been in charge of bringing this situation to a successful resolution. I thank you…for your God given talents. It is comforting to know we have people such as you to cope with these matters. However," he said with a shrewd wink, "I do hope we will not be requiring your services again anytime soon."

Roy and John, despite themselves, chuckled out loud as they watched him turn and hurry off towards the church.

"Amen to that," John whispered to his partner out of the corner of his mouth as he took one last look at the top of the steeple. He then snatched up the black drug box and biophone in either hand as he made his way to the back of the ambulance. He gingerly climbed inside and sat down, giving a backwards glance at the blonde haired paramedic.

"See ya at Rampart partner," he called out before the attendant slammed the door shut and raced around to climb into the driver's seat.

Roy watched as the ambulance pulled away and felt and immense feeling of relief. He opened the driver's side door of the squad and took his place behind the wheel. He fervently hoped the reminder of their day consisted of some routine runs, preparing a lousy dinner for his crewmates that they would undoubtedly complain to him about, and then a peaceful evening gathered around the TV, lounging in the uncomfortable wooden chairs catching an episode of Adam 12. He chuckled at the thought as he shifted the truck into drive and guided it out of the parking lot.