Part Four

Chet skidded to a halt, just beyond the rear of the squad, surprised at the scene before him. Cap and Gage were moving toward him, but the patrol officer looked like he wanted to hold them back. Cap said something that Chet couldn't hear and then he and Johnny were headed toward the squad.

It was obvious that he'd stumbled into the middle of something, but before his brain could even begin to form the questions, he got his second shock. Third if you counted the fact that Johnny was even still all the way over here when there were victims who needed help; one of them Roy. The John Gage he knew would have been beside his partner in a second.

But it wasn't often that the John Gage he knew looked like the man he saw alongside Cap. Dollars to doughnuts, Gage was going to need a medic himself before the night was over.

Chet met Cap's gaze in askance. The slight shake of the older man's head made it clear that now was not the time for questions.

Shaking himself from his momentary stupor, he took the two steps that brought him back to the squad's storage compartments and grabbed the trauma box, drug box and a splint – all things he thought would be needed to treat the two downed men. He was running out of hands when Cap reached in around him and grabbed the biophone and cardiac monitor.

The equipment was rearranged between the three of them as they made their way toward the drop off. In the short distance, several very pressing questions rushed to the fore of Chet's mind. Like, Why was Roy laying on the ground, bleeding from a gun shot wound? And why did Johnny look like he had gone a couple rounds with the middle weight champion of the world?

"Kelly." Cap spoke softly and shot a glare in his direction.

He hadn't even said anything, yet! How had the man known? Chet snapped his mouth shut and kept moving. He knew a warning when he heard one.

Edging around the cluster of men, he placed the equipment where it would be within reach, but not in the way.

Marco scooted back a little so that Johnny could ease in beside Roy, but he kept a hand pressed beneath the top left side of DeSoto's turnout coat. The ragged hole where the bullet had gone in just looked ... wrong ... against the background of dried blood.

Johnny settled quickly to the ground, setting aside the cardiac monitor and other items that he had been carrying, looked toward Roy and froze. For a fraction of a second, it seemed as if he didn't know what to do.

Chet could understand that. Just from what he could tell - Roy was bleeding from a gunshot wound to one shoulder and the other one didn't look quite right. His face was covered with several dozen lacerations from taking a header down the side of the drop-off through heavy brush and he had more than one bump his head.

But Johnny pulled himself out of it. To someone who didn't know that he usually moved a hundred miles a second, the hesitation would barely be noticeable. And then he was reaching toward Roy's wrist, taking his pulse and ordering everyone around. It was music to Chet's ears.

"What have you got, Mike?" Johnny shot a brief squinting look in the engineer's direction.

"Probable fracture in the left leg," Mike replied from his spot next to the unlucky policeman who had managed to fall over the side of the embankment. "Pulse is 75, respiration is 20."

"Chet - why don't you help him get a splint on it?"

"Sure thing, Johnny."

Gage moved on to checking Roy's respirations. "Cap, can you get Rampart on the line for me?" he asked.

"You got it," Cap responded, already setting up the antenna. "36's should be here any minute to give you a hand."

"You hurt any place else?" John's eyes settled back on the young policeman. The guy had to be a rookie. He was so new, Chet thought he could still smell the milk on his breath. He looked terrified.

"Did you hurt anything besides your leg?" John asked again, trying to capture the kid's attention.

Marco said something soft enough that Chet couldn't hear him, but he didn't need to. He figured Marco was telling Johnny what the officer had told them just before they'd pulled him up. He was afraid he was going to be kicked off the police force for being a klutz.

John grunted in response to Marco. Then, "You know I once hurt my knee when I tripped down a hill not all that different from this one. I'm sure Fireman Kelly would be glad to tell you the story when you're feeling better. Wouldn't you, Chet?"

Chet grinned. "Oh, that story and more," he assured the officer.

The kid looked around at the other officers standing nearby and seemed to relax a bit. "It really is just my leg," he said softly.

"Good." Johnny was the one who replied. "We'll get you all taken care of. Don't worry." Then, looking toward Marco, "How's the bleeding?"

Marco kept his hand in place. "Still sluggish."

Johnny frowned, but continued checking Roy over, listening to his lungs, feeling along his sides, checking his eyes, things they'd seen him do thousands of times. "Okay. Any sign of consciousness at all?"

Chet knew the answer to that one, but he listened while Marco explained it.

"He tried to come around when we first got to him, but then he was out again. Seemed like he was in a lot of pain."

Gage nodded and accepted the phone from Cap. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have two victims. Victim one is a male, approximately 30 years old. He has suffered a gun shot wound to the upper left quadrant, no apparent lung involvement. Bleeding is under control. Right shoulder is dislocated . . . ." He continued relaying the information on his two patients to the doctor on the other end.

About the time the ordered IV was in Roy and Johnny began working on the MS for the cop, Chet started to hear approaching sirens. It sounded like it was going to be a photo finish between Squad 36 and the ambulance.

"We're going to need to …" Johnny broke off abruptly when Roy began to move.

Johnny rushed back to his side. "Roy? Roy? Can you hear me?" He leaned in close, putting his ear near the oxygen mask trying to make out the words Roy was murmuring.

"Come on, partner. Are you with me? Open your eyes."

Roy let out a low moan, but didn't open his eyes.

Johnny kept at him. "Where do you hurt? Roy? Do you know what happened to you?"

Roy let out another moan which stretched into mumbled words that Chet couldn't make out. Then suddenly his eyes shot wide open.

"Johnny! Johnny! No!" His breaths started to come fast as he became more agitated. He began to thrash, making it necessary for them to try to hold him down without hurting him further.

"Roy, it's OK. Everything is gonna be alright, but you gotta calm down." Johnny tried to get through to him. It wasn't working. Roy's panic just kept on rising. "Roy, relax, now. Come on. This isn't doing you any good."

Then, as fast as it started, he ran out of steam. He was fading fast. "Johnny . . . gotta gun. Shot me. Gun . . . Johnny . . . shot me."

With that, Roy slipped into unconsciousness.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. I must have rewritten it maybe ten times. Thanks for your patience.