"Gage, stop that… Gage stay down… Gage, stop fighting... Gage, leave that where it is… No,... Gage, leave the oxygen mask on…Gage, seriously…. Gage, you have a head wound, and you need to remain still… Gage, careful, the IV… Gage, stop fighting me. Look. He's right over there. He's doing fine, better than you, actually. Bellingham is taking care of Roy. You are going to dislodge your IV if you don't settle down… Gage, I can use restraints if I need to, you know. According to the handbook, section 6 specifically states in sub-section 4, paragraph 3, that in the event of an unruly and uncooperative…Gage! Gage! CAPTAIN STANLEY? A LITTLE HELP HERE, PLEASE?"

A very flustered Craig Brice huffed in exasperation as he was trying to keep the oxygen mask on Johnny, not to mention the IV from getting torn out of his arm as he was trying to sit up, and the pressure bandage on his head wound. Johnny, who was somewhat disoriented, was trying to find the whereabouts of his best friend.

Both Roy and Johnny had once again beat the odds, and had escaped very serious injury. They had managed to get out with slight and moderate concussions, cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a yet to be determined knee injury. Roy was sitting up, holding his own oxygen mask, having the road rash on his cheek patched up. He was chuckling under his mask at the hard time his partner was giving Brice. Examining Roy's knee, Bellingham splinted it. He took Roy's vitals again, seemingly happy with the results.

"I don't think anything's broken, Roy. We'll have it checked at Rampart. How's your head? Your responses are good. Marco said you were out for a couple of minutes. Gage there was out for quite a while…looks like Brice has his hands full!" While checking Roy's eyes again, Bellingham joined Roy in snickering, knowing the kind of patient Johnny could be.

Captain Stanley came over to help Brice with an agitated John Gage. The paramedic was quite flustered, being that John just wanted to be with his partner. His only concern was how Roy was doing, not his own injuries. Hank placed a calming, fatherly hand on John's arm.

"Com'on pal, you need to calm down. Roy's fine, he sitting over there talking to Bellingham, okay? You need to let Brice do his job. You took a hard hit, and we need to get you two to Rampart. That's an order, hear me, John?" John's sluggish gaze found his commander's eyes, which were now compassionate and full of concern. He nodded in agreement, and settled back onto the gurney to be readied for transport.

Truth be told, he did feel like crap. He just didn't want to give Brice the satisfaction. His head was throbbing. His ribs were aching. His stomach was starting to rebel. He started to swallow furiously, trying to fight the rising bile in his throat.

"Thank you sir, I knew you'd convince him to do things MY way." Brice said snidely, adjusting his glasses.

"Annoying little twit…" Hank muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, sir, did you say something?" Brice inquired.

"I, uh, said we should get going." Cap said with a grin.

Roy noticed the familiar signs of John feeling sick.

"Hey Brice, you should probably step away from the gurney for a minute."

"DeSoto, you are in no position at this time to tell me how to do my job. I have everything at hand. I am perfectly capable to administer…"

The 'perfect' paramedic's dissertation was promptly interrupted by Johnny leaning over the side of the gurney, and getting sick all over Brice's newly acquired, 100% regulation, handbook-approved shoes. He lifted his glasses for a closer observance. He looked over at his chuckling colleagues, and huffed at them. Roy hobbled to his feet and made his way to the gurney, aided by Bellingham, worried about his friend.

"Hey partner, How ya doing?" Roy took a 4x4 and wiped his best friend's mouth. As Johnny was loaded, Bellingham aided Roy into the back of the ambulance. Brice started to get into the ambulance, but Bellingham, held up his hand.

"Uh, Brice, I'll ride with them. Besides. You kinda smell!" Brice stood back with his mouth agape, as the doors were shut. Hank gave the customary two slaps, and the ambulance drove off.

The ambulance backed into the bay, with Dixie and Brackett waiting. A wheelchair was waiting for Roy, which he gladly accepted. John was whisked into treatment room 3, Roy into Room 2, where Dr. Early was waiting. It never ceased to amaze the doctors that their favorite paramedics could escape serious injury.

After a battery of tests, it was determined that Roy had a slight concussion, scrapes, bruises, and had twisted his knee. He was going to have to stay at the hospital for at least 2 days, and upon approval, would be allowed to return to work in a couple weeks. He would definitely be sore for some time to come.

Johnny, on the other hand, had a concussion, required 12 stitches to close the gash in his forehead, had dislocation of his shoulder, and cracked 3 ribs from impacting the pavement, not to mention numerous bruises and scrapes. He would be Rampart's guest for at least 3 days, and, depending on his recovery, up to 4 weeks off duty.

All in all, things could have been much worse. They were pretty thankful.

Once settled in their shared room, the guys from 51 stopped in to make sure they were alright.

"I'd pay good money to see Johnny up-chuck on Brice again. I heard he's trying to get the department to reimburse him for some new shoes. That's one for the books!" Chet said with a laugh.

"I Even heard Mikey laugh out loud when it happened. Good one, Johnny!" Marco joined in.

"My pleasure guys. Glad to be of service." Johnny tried to laugh, but his ribs ached too much.

"Bunch of overgrown twits." Hank was laughing too. He was just pleased that his men were okay.

The guys from 51's had headed back to the station, Joanne had come and gone, and Johnny and Roy had settled in as best as they could. Being poked and prodded, and being awakened every two hours for neuro-checks wasn't making for a very restful stay. Later in the day, After Johnny's CAT scan, It was Roy's turn to get a scan for his knee. After Roy left with Dixie as his escort and wheelchair driver, John settled back and closed his eyes, hoping to catch a nap, thinking it would help the throbbing in his head to ease.

He didn't hear the door silently open.

Startling him awake, was a hand placed over his mouth, and a forceful arm across his injured ribs, John's widened eyes locked onto the face of Detective Joe Miller.

"I thought I made myself clear, Gage! Keep your nose out of my business! It seems that after you left Linda's house, you took it upon yourself to make a phone call to Detective Crockett. It sounds like you have some suspicions about me, huh Gage? He had a little chat with me, and I explained to him that I was just helping out a friend in need, just like you, you know, in her time of grief. You have to realize that us cops, we stick together, and watch out for our own, Gage. You need to watch your mouth."

Miller sneered and leaned a little harder on Johnny's ribcage, causing him to gasp in pain. He felt his vision narrowing, as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He couldn't allow himself to pass out now.

"You don't seem to understand that people could have a way of getting hurt, Gage, maybe even killed. Kinda like your partner, here? Or maybe his pretty little wife,.. or his bratty little kids? Not to mention your stupid co-workers that you seem to be so fond of…"

Johnny squirmed under Miller's tight grasp in pain, and was angry at his threats toward his loved ones and friends. Miller pushed even harder, and pulled the oxygen cannula from his nose, making it even harder for Johnny to breathe.

"Didn't you like that spectacle I arranged for you and your friends at the warehouse? I was kinda proud of my handiwork! Too bad you survived. I'll have to do a better job next time. Better watch yourself, Gage, accidents can happen anywhere,…even in hospitals." He laughed a horrible, evil laugh.

"Oh, and by the way? Thanks for doing such a great job on Trent's car. Helps me score with the women, and it drives like a dream!" Joe Miller Laughed heartily again, releasing his hold on Johnny, and walked out of the room.

Johnny lay there gasping for air, writhing in pain, trying to retrieve his call button that had been thrown to the floor. He wasn't able to retrieve it before darkness started to overtake him…