Roy couldn't help glancing back at John's ICU door. He'll be fine with Cap. He knew he had to get some sleep but though his body kept moving towards the elevators his mind was still in the room with his partner as he and his family reached the end of the hallway.

Chris had just pushed the elevator button as Brackett and a nurse ran into Johnny's room. Roy told Joanne to keep the kids in the lounge as he took off after them.

"He's fighting the vent!"

Cap and Roy stood on either side of Johnny holding his hands down as Brackett checked to make sure nothing had been pulled free.

Soft whimpers escaped Johnny's mouth around the ventilator. A tear slid down his face as his head tossed back and forth.

"Johnny? Listen to me. You need to calm down. You're on a ventilator but you're going to be okay. Just let it breath for you; don't fight it. You need it."

More tears flowed down John's face, which bunched into a contortion of pain as he continued to fight.

Breathy rasps that almost sounded like words forced from his stricken friend and Roy barely held back tears of his own seeing Johnny like this.

"John, this is Captain Stanley. You need to stop moving. I know it's hard but that's an order." Cap's tone just wasn't in it but John momentarily stilled.

Words from John's past warred with the horror of the present.

"Stop it you little bastard! You got what was coming to you!" his stepfather growled at him from the grave.

"Johnny stop, please. Please Junior, you're hurting yourself."

Junior?

Something changed that minute. Johnny latched onto that one voice, that one word, and commanding blue eyes that he could only see with his mind's eye.

The frantic heart monitors slowed for a minute and every breath in the room was held. Cap and Roy kept their hands protectively over John's and Brackett stood ready with a syringe to plunge his young patient back into oblivion to save his life if necessary.

"Shhh, that's it, Junior." Roy was acutely aware of the struggle going on in his partner's mind.

Deep brown expressive eyes opened on a slit and blinked tiredly taking in all three faces above him before drifting shut.

"That's it, Junior, come back to us."

Try as he might, John couldn't open his eyes again. His stepfather wasn't here. Putting faces to the voices helped marginally but didn't explain who they were. Frustration burned within him as he tried to place these people in his life. He knew he should know them. His throat felt like he'd swallowed razor blades down into lungs made of shredded tissue paper. He started to fight the vent again. The chest tube jarred but stayed in place. Pain shot through his side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Gentle hands hovered at his shoulders without pressure. Warmth seeped into his body from them and he wanted to lean into them to hide for just a bit.

"Well, we have spontaneous respirations triggering the vent and that's a good thing but I'm afraid I'm going to have to sedate him. He needs the vent until his blood oxygen levels come up." Bracket pushed the medicine into the port of the IV in Gage's arms.

"Sleep now, Junior, you're not alone. Everything's going to be fine."

John's forehead smoothed out and the small gasps of pain and frustration were silenced. Desoto sat heavily into the chair beside his partner's bed. This was only the beginning, he thought sadly. John had no idea that his secret was out. In fact, there was the distinct possibility that once John woke; he still would be suffering from amnesia.

Roy couldn't stand the thought of leaving John now but though Cap's orders to Johnny had only worked momentarily, the order for Roy to go home and rest wasn't up for debate.

"Your family's waiting for you," Cap reminded him.

"Yeah … and a huge part of it is here."

"With me," reminded his captain and that had to be good enough for now.

"Thanks, Cap."

XXXX

John's cat scan and other tests over the next few days came out well considering what the young paramedic went through in not one but two near fatal accidents. Roy didn't even feel like joking about whether or not Gage used up one or two of his nine lives when Chet half-heartedly brought it up to lighten the mood.

John awoke at various points during the visits by his shift mates but if he recognized them or not they had no indication. He'd studied faces briefly as if trying to take it all in; to figure something out that none of them were privy to.

The ventilator extraction was purposely scheduled for Roy's visit since the paramedic was used to such procedures and would handle it better and be better at keeping Johnny calm during the relatively painful procedure.

Roy entered the room trying his best to belie his fear for his friend and the fact that watching something like this done to someone you love is far more difficult than watching it on someone else. Nerves rattled in Roy's stomach. Apart from some basic yes and no questions that John answered successfully, no one knew the extent of the amnesia still plaguing him. The questions had been purposely easy as more pressing ones had set off the alarms on the heart monitors as John tried to talk past the ventilator. Sadly watching John in a comatose state was going to prove much easier than trying to explain things in the state that they were in now.

"Okay, Johnny, I'm going to tilt you back just slightly. As I remove the tube, I want you to cough as hard as you can. I know it will hurt but it will help with the extraction and will make it go quicker. Once the tube is out I'm going to raise the bed a little and I want you try to take controlled breaths, small at first and then gradually deeper. Ready?"

The last time Gage was weaned from a ventilator he'd sought support from Roy by looking him right in the face. Now brown eyes stared fearfully up into blue ones and quickly looked down, closed to the world as if he had to do this all on his own.

Roy reached down and cupped the young man's chin. "Junior, look at me. Do what I do, okay? I'm gonna be right here. I'm gonna help you. It'll be okay."

Johnny nodded, his eyes tired but somehow wide and fearful at the same time. He winced when the tape holding the mouthpiece was pulled off . The area under the tape was a bit red with pulled skin. Roy felt John's entire body tense as if he wanted to pull away and be anywhere but here and he let him squeeze his hands as hard as he could.

Tears slipped from Gage's eyes and Roy's heart wanted to break. It was so easy to see that John was only twenty-one years old right now when he'd lost his mature façade as surely as Peter Pan had lost his shadow. John arched up onto his heels, his back bowed painfully impeding the extraction.

"Relax your body, lie flat," Roy said calmly.

A brief, fearful look of defiance was replaced with resignation as John's body fell back into place.

Weak, hoarse coughing was all Johnny could manage as the tube snaked its way up his throat scraping like sandpaper. As soon as it came free Dr. Brackett got out of the way and let Roy take over. Roy's knee was on the bed as Brackett raised the head of the bed. His body loomed over Johnny forcing him to focus.

Roy blew out a few fake coughs, encouraging Gage to mimic him. Slowly, panting, Gage followed what Roy did. His eyes were bloodshot as he tried to breathe. Pain shot through his collarbones and a sob tore his throat to shreds as he fought for control. Dry heaves from the tube touching his gag reflex felt like they were going to pull his very soul from his body as Roy rubbed small circles on his back, leaning over him so he had something to hide behind.

Roy leaned back when the gagging stopped locking eyes on his friend. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then the frames were new but the panes were ancient and worn.

Kelly Brackett took vitals and Gage tried to watch which distracted him from concentrating on getting his breathing under control. Roy gently took his chin back, fitting an oxygen mask over his face. He purposely stood in front of the machines, not wanting him to see the dropping oxygen saturation levels in case on this level of consciousness he understood what they meant.

Kell's frown lessened as slowly, the levels started to come back up. Roy had one hand on John's chin the other resting feather light on his chest.

"That's it, follow me. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

John's pulse rate dropped from its racing rate, as did his skyrocketing blood pressure.

The time between John's blinks grew longer with each passing minute as he was closely monitored, the nurse standing in the background waiting to assist putting the vent back if necessary. His mouth opened a few times as if he wanted to say something but he swallowed in clear agony before his eyes closed and didn't reopen.

Roy stayed perched over his friend for a few more minutes before letting Johnny's chin droop in what Brackett assured him was just sleep. His other hand remained on his chest, needing to feel the evidence of life for himself. He stayed like that for five minutes before he suddenly ran out the door, past his wife in the ICU waiting room and to the men's room.

Roy splashed some cold water on his face before allowing himself to slide down the opposite wall, head in his hands. He fought the bile that threatened to rise into his mouth. Who knew hope hurt this much? Because somewhere hidden within those brown eyes was trust and maybe just a little bit of recognition.

XXXX

Roy took his vacation early. He couldn't stand the throngs of reporters that were camped out across the street from Station fifty-one clambering for more information on John Gage. More often than not he found himself doing security detail at Rampart as reporters grew bolder in their attempts to get pictures or try to speak with John. It wasn't lax security that was letting these people slip past, it was the cunning ways in which it was attempted. With a hospital as big as Rampart, huge numbers of people came and went frequently and it was easy to pose as a supplier, a candy striper or maintenance worker.

Roy didn't know why these hounds didn't just fabricate stories for their use and make up interviews; lord knew they'd lied about most everything else. Through it all, Kristy tried valiantly to save John Gage's reputation. She even flew out to Montana where John's life began and talked to the tribal elders and some former neighbours and schoolmates. No one had anything but good to say about John and Kristy interviewed them standing outside Johnny's old school. Another score for the good side was that Kristy was able to get some archives of John's early school records which showed exemplary grades and impressive track and field standings but troubling attendance for various ailments and injuries.

Kristy called Joanne in the evening and was relieved to find out John was off the ventilator but she had some troubling news to share.

"Jo, you're going to have to ready Roy for some of the hard stuff coming out. It seems KMPG got here first and interviewed some people and have put a spin on some of it that isn't very flattering. I need to go live first with the fair side."

"I'll make sure Roy watches the broadcast at home and not at the hospital, and Kristy, thanks … for everything."

"Sure thing. I'll call you when I land."

Kristy broadcast her interviews of people who were ancient who must have been old when Johnny was a kid; people he shovelled snow for and carried groceries for. She interviewed a poor farmer who testified that John had done his best to help patch up animals that had been injured since veterinary care was very expensive and ill afforded at the time. And finally, she held up a copy of the Montana and California school records that showed John Gage graduating with honors one year early through correspondence at a state recognized program. She hoped that would at least put to rest the public concern about his qualifications to join the academy in the first place and would take some of the heat off of headquarters.

KMPG, finding no dirt, just sad speculation at the reservation, instead turned to insulting the reservation in general, poking around and pointing out faults and indicating that perhaps the fire department should be more selective. Tribal elders discouraged retaliation and the reporters were asked to leave with the well wish that they gain wisdom and replace spitefulness with acceptance and peace, which at least one elder smiled at, knowing how it ticked Rick the reporter off. Fight fire with brimstone, the satisfied man thought though it pained him to know that for some, wisdom would never come.

Kristy accepted a dream catcher for Johnny from the elders. She wished she could have stayed for a little while longer. This was a place of deep, rich culture and she wanted to learn of the pains and the triumphs and gain permission to bring their story out their way. But for now all she could do was try to be the best King's horseman and put Humpty Johnny's life back together again.

On her way to the airport her driver stopped at the house on a fair sized chunk of land with a new 'sold' sign on the front lawn; Johnny's childhood home. The layers of paint were chipped to show pieces of the past as they had peeled away with Johnny's hopes and dreams. It was easy to tell that the house had once stood proud and tall but suffered neglect and withered but was not beyond repair. She just hoped the same was true for the boy she considered a friend.

Taking a few snapshots, she got back in the car and headed for the airport.

XXXX

John woke feeling something awkward beneath his hand. The steady beeping that had been ever-present was still there, though quieter, more background noise letting him know he was still alive if he ever doubted it.

Looking down he found his hand resting on someone's shoulder. The figure was sleeping. This was good. It gave him time to figure out what he was supposed to do; who this person was.

The sandy hair was familiar but Gage couldn't place it. Feeling panicky that the person might wake up, John feigned sleep but his burning throat made it impossible to keep up and soon he was fidgeting in pain. The person stirred and sat up.

Gage snapped his eyes shut but not before Roy saw the expressive brown orbs.

"Johnny?" he asked, trying to control desperation in his voice.

Gage heard the tone and something deep inside made him respond, forced him to open his eyes. There they were again. He should know that face. That face was important. He remembered screaming a name that went with that face in his mind when he was hurt and someone asking if that was his father. That unbidden thought made Gage study the face a little closer. No, it wasn't his stepfather. His stepfather was dead.

He's dead? Yes, he's dead. And Aunt Rose … Oh God! He tried to speak but couldn't

The monitors picked up but Roy held up his hand to the nurse who had sped into the room, keeping an eye that they didn't reach danger level as Gage tried to figure things out. Rapid eye movement under squinted eyelids showed the fast forward button in Gage's mind had been pushed. Roy gently unwound his partner's hand from the twisted bed sheet where he held on for dear life as if he'd fall off the edge of his flat world.

"John it's okay. I'm here. It's Roy. It's okay if you don't know me right now, but you will. You will."

Roy followed the hospital psychiatrist's advice about feeding small bits of information to John at a time only complimenting what he remembered himself.

Eyes opened in a 'pinch me' sort of way as if John couldn't believe he was really there.

"R … Roy?" John whispered and Roy thought there was never a more welcome sound other than the first cries of his children when they were born.

"Yeah, Junior, it's me. You're okay. You're gonna be fine. You're safe."

Roy couldn't help the tears that fell freely off the end of his nose. John reached up out of nothing more than instinct at this moment and brushed one off as if he wanted to put it under a microscope and analyse it.

"Hu … hurts … Roy." Gage's tattered hands came up to touch his throat. Pupils that were still overly large searched Roy's face.

Roy reluctantly pressed the call button wanting to keep Gage all to himself for another minute and the nurse summoned Dr. Early who was on call. Ice chips were ordered and John looked in bliss as Roy spooned one at a time to him. The cool melted ice helped put the fire in his throat out as Dr. Early checked the monitors and pupil reaction and generally poked and prodded.

"John, I want you to follow the penlight with your eyes keeping your head still, understand?"

Gage nodded tiredly, having a feeling he'd done this dozens of times before in another life.

"Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Th … three." Gage studied the face of the grey haired, kind looking doctor.

Early … He's Dr. Early. I know him.

"Good!" Dr. Early kept his voice light and quiet but the enthusiasm trickled through.

"How long's he been awake, Roy?"

Roy! Desoto, Roy Desoto! But something was missing. Gage studied the face with the kind blue eyes and the sandy hair and followed it down to the grey sweater. No, that was wrong. It was frustrating, these fragmented memories like trying to process thoughts through a cheese grater. The pieces went in whole but came out small and detached.

These men weren't here to hurt him. He knew that. His mouth opened automatically for the spoons of ice chips as he watched them talk. Dr. Early put a hand on Roy's shoulder though Gage had watched Roy wipe off any evidence of tears before he arrived.

Gage shivered as his bandages were gently removed from the stitches on his upper torso and his head from where the rocks had fallen on him. His entire body jumped when someone walked into the room suddenly. It had been hard enough lying there with his torso exposed with just two people in the room. His legs shot up as he grabbed the sheet that had been folded back to his waist and he cradled himself into a foetal position even though it chorused through his body in strings of agony.

Captain Stanley paused in shock and dismay to have caused his young paramedic any more pain. Seeing the immediate damage was done, Roy took charge of the situation and the usual calm Dr. Early was glad of it. Roy could never have predicted this, but something about the diary John had written spoke of things in his past.

Cap turned to leave, reopening the door as quietly as he could but the quiet soothing voice of Roy Desoto stopped him though his instincts told him otherwise. No one knew Johnny like Roy so he forced himself to listen and planted his feet firmly where they were but came no closer.

Roy lowered the bedrail and grasped Johnny's hands lightly but firmly. He put his head on the pillow facing John keeping his feet still planted on the floor which was awkward and hard on his back but he knew what he was doing, or at least he hoped he did.

Using the nickname that seemed to get the most trusted response, Roy began to soothe the frightened man.

"Junior. Look at me. You have to lie flat okay? I'm going to cover you back up and I'll help you straighten out. Let me do all the work okay?"

Gage's face was a mask of pain and Dr. Early readied a dose of morphine but held off.

Slowly, John let Roy work his legs back down straight and let him help him turn back over onto his back from his side. His arms remained crossed over his chest like a mummy. It would do. For now. He had to let him have some feeling of control.

"Junior, this man is Hank Stanley. He's okay. He won't hurt you. He's a friend." Roy shot an apologetic look to his captain.

Stanley stepped forward slightly and it was clear by the lack of fear on John's face now that it was the suddenness of the intrusion rather than whom the person was who had stepped in at moment of total dependence. Cap had obviously come straight from work. He wore his uniform and a slight hint of smoke hung around him.

Roy saw John sniff the air and take in the face first before he became fixated on the uniform shirt and in particular the patches on either bicep. The injured man's eyes followed from the blue shirt to the emblems to Roy's face and grey sweater several times before he shut his eyes, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

Cap timidly came closer and wondered if this was how a boot felt the first time they met their captain. Being scrutinized so heavily was unnerving and if he scared his paramedic again he would want to bolt from the room and never come back.

John studied Cap's face and Roy noticed that if it were possible, as dumb as it sounded, John seemed to lie straighter as recognition not so much for the man as the position seemed to come to him.

Cap … Somewhere in the confused jumble of wires making up John's fried brain at the moment the word Twit came to mind.

"N … Not a tw …twit. R … r-right Roy?"

Roy felt his knees give as he sat down on John's bed and Cap raked his hand over his face as Dr. Early sighed in guarded relief.

"No, Johnny, you're not a twit," Roy told him, tears threatening to fall again.

"Kay." And with that, John fell asleep.

"Twit," Captain Stanley said affectionately patting Johnny on the shoulder and raising his hand to his own face claiming he had something in his eye.

Dr. Early removed John's stitches while he was asleep and for this Roy was glad. They also took this time to change John's gown and sheets knowing it would be easier on him while he was out. For now, they would take what they could get and heal their friend one piece at a time.

XXXX

The many worlds of John Gage collided when Nina and Andy came to visit. Embarrassment flushed John's cheeks as he recalled telling them that his name was Chet Stoker. John was still shielded from the world in that he knew nothing about everyone knowing his secrets. For now they all embraced the simplicity of John getting some of his memories back and reconciling his past with his present and the hell bridge in between.

"I'm a fireman-paramedic," he proudly told Nina and Andy. Then he slipped back into stuttering. "I … I, I'm s-sorry for lying to you. I didn't know. I thought … I thought … It really was …wasn't a lie, it-it was j-just…"

"It's okay, Johnny." Andy spoke first.

John looked to Roy for confirmation and Roy just nodded to him from across the room. Johnny had asked Roy to stay when he saw people for the first time. The Neurologist had told him that he would have more trouble recognizing some people than others and some memories would be more elusive than others. The concussion, injuries and near drowning all conspired to muddy things that John knew he should remember.

"Th-th-th the little girl?"

"Chloe? She's fine, Johnny. You saved her life. Brett's fine too and he's going to come see you soon.

Nina stepped up closer to John's bed, taking her cue from Roy that John seemed comfortable.

"I'm so glad you're beginning to mend. When I found you I was so worried." Consideration of his feelings still felt foreign to John despite the fact that Roy had filled him in on all of shift mates and their concern for him and the massive search for him. He'd of course left out the bad aspects to the whole thing.

John remembered cowering on the floor of the clinic, remembered being shirtless in front of Nina, how she'd looked at his back and saw his past.

"I wish I knew who you were that day, John, so I could have returned you to where you belonged, but believe me when I tell you that the boy I met on the road that day was brave, intelligent and kind." Seeing John tense at the word boy, Nina amended her words. "You're a good man, John, then and now." She hoped she'd smoothed over her slip up. They'd agreed that no one would tell John they knew his true age yet. For now, he needed to get to know himself as much as anyone else did.

John didn't know what to say to that so he just nodded and mumbled stuttered thanks and changed the subject.

"How, how's George doing?"

"He's fine," Nina smiled, grateful for the change of subject. "He's got a steady girlfriend now in Lucy even though it was a long distance relationship up until now."

"Ohhh maaaan," John moaned and Roy couldn't help but suppress a grin. That was vintage John Gage. "I wr … wrecked his sweater. Roy? C-can you go to the bank for me and wire money to George for a new sweater?"

"Sure thing, partner," Roy agreed but his heart fell into his shoes. While Johnny was comatose, he was suspended without pay from the L.A. County fire department. His un-cashed windfall from the sale of his parent's home sat in a drawer in his empty apartment and instead of the ranch he'd dreamed of, Johnny would have to be told very soon that he was going to need that money for a defence attorney which would be very expensive and would be eaten through in no time. Roy would send money to George himself without telling his partner.

The only bright side in the whole saga so far was that the D.A. decided not to ask for a jail sentence for fraud. The worst that would happen to John Gage was that he would be fired from the fire department and paramedic program. So, no, there would be no bars but the ones John would surely build around himself if he was fired. The only reason John didn't know about any of this was that so far, Brackett's word was law and his patient wasn't ready for questioning or visitors other than family.

It couldn't last.

XXXX

The A shift finally had a day off. They gathered together in the waiting room of the ICU waiting to go in. Gage had slept for four hours since Nina and Andy left and Roy had asked Johns' friends to come in uniform, as it seemed to help with recognition. It hurt so much to know that John identified so much of his life as his work. He guessed that's where the term life's work came from.

Marco, Chet and Stoker stepped into the room and stood stock still as if for roll call and damned if Johnny didn't laugh out loud, scaring his friends for his sanity.

"I had a dream, you were in it, and you and you," Gage laughed hoarsely pointing at each in turn seeing the fear drop from the three men's faces.

"I see you retained your warped personality, Dorothy," Chet sneered as best he could though misty tears at the Wizard of Oz reference.

Gage laughed for the first time and it was like music to everyone. He sipped water that Roy handed him. The chuckle had hurt but it was worth it.

Cap came in with a tray of coffee and a picture was completed in Gage's mind like a jigsaw puzzle, one of those really hard ones with a million pieces. He was quiet for a long minute while the coffee was passed around, complaining just so Roy wouldn't worry that he wanted some too.

"Sorry, Johnny, no can do. You're getting the good stuff in that IV of yours until tomorrow."

"Morphine and caffeine don't mix," Chet taunted, blowing on his coffee deliberately so the smell would permeate the air further.

"Yeah, well, caffeine tastes better," John grumbled.

Ahhh, the Phantom and the Pigeon together again, Chet sighed happily.

XXXX

Sunlight streamed into the windows flitting over Gage's sleeping face waking him. He made the mistake of stretching, pulling on his bruised pelvis and torso. The sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth woke the ever-present sentry at his bedside.

"You're gonna turn into a … a pr- pretzel if you stay in that chair much longer."

"I'm fine, Roy said stretching to the pop of vertebrae in his back and neck. He got up and began fussing over his young partner.

Dr. Brackett came in as if he had radar at that moment. The doc made sure Gage was aware of what was happening before he turned down the sheets and pushed aside the gown to check the bruising and chest tube.

Gage cringed under the examinations keeping his head turned away, jaw muscles jumping in cheeks that had started to jut out a little more than usual lately. Watching this every time Gage needed to be checked on made Roy want to resurrect Gage's stepfather and kill him all over again.

The scars where the stitches had been removed the day before were pinking up and the bruises were blossoming from blue-black to yellowy-green. Kel and Roy helped John turn to his side so Kel could check his back and this was always the most sensitive part of the exam. Roy always tried to make small talk as Kel probed around the bruises and checked John's breathing placing a stethoscope on his back. John knew that he was going to have to explain those scars for sure now. It wasn't like Roy hadn't seen them in the past, hell even Chet had seen them over the years but even the Phantom knew not to go there.

As Brackett and Roy were helping John to turn back onto his back, his hip flared with intense pain as a Charlie horse took hold. Humiliation flooded John's entire being when Roy massaged the pain out. John bit a part of the sheet until the pain passed, tears streaming from his eyes. Was this ever going to get easier?

When John's body stopped writhing in agony the two men quickly followed the routine that had been established. The less new things for Johnny right now the better. His gown was changed; fresh sheets were placed on the bed. As usual, Johnny cocooned himself up to his chin under the sheet.

"I have some good news for you, Johnny. Tomorrow morning if all goes well, we can take out that chest tube."

Johnny waited for better news that usually followed such a statement. Chet had already let out of the bag that he'd be taken off the morphine tomorrow, which was good because Johnny hated the extra fog it caused his already confused brain. The ventilator had already been removed, so why was no one announcing that he was ready for a step down unit? And the kick to it all, John wasn't even so much worried for himself. He knew that usually Roy stopped being such a mother hen when he was downgraded from critical to stable and went home to his family. Roy looked tired and John was getting worried and knew that Chris and Jen would be missing their dad and Joanne her husband. His honey do list was probably a mile long by now and John knew it'd be awhile before he could come over and help again.

Dr. Brackett patted John on the shoulder wishing he didn't have to cause the young man so much misplaced shame and went to the door.

"Uh, Doc? When … when ar-are you gonna let me get out of the I-ICU? I … I'm getting better, right?"

"Of course you are John, but let's not push things. You were in two accidents in one week. You're still suffering from post concussion syndrome and you haven't recovered all of your memories yet. Give it just a little more time okay, pal?"

XXXX

Mike Stoker came in to stay with John that night. Roy was ordered home and Johnny was glad. Roy had run himself ragged.

Stoker beamed with a bit of good news for Johnny. I made some chicken and vegetable soup today and Dr. Brackett said if you felt up to it you could have some."

One thing Johnny did remember was how great Mike's cooking was. He knew he wouldn't be up to spaghetti, the dish for which Stoker was famous but even through the paper bag and container that it was carried in, John could smell the soup.

John lacked the co ordination to use a spoon and Stoker knew that John wouldn't take kindly to being spoon fed if he could help it at all so he'd packed a light mug and poured the soup into it. Gage put up with a little help in holding the cup. It was after all Mike's soup and well, no one turned down Mike's soup.

Mike was the quiet one of fifty-one's A shift and Gage was grateful for that as he savored the soup. It was comfortable. Mike didn't poke fun like Chet did, but Gage had to admit, the phantom had been on his best behaviour since he'd taken ill.

Mike was clearly pleased when Johnny finished the whole cup of soup but had the sense not to say anything. He was the perfect second in command and Engineer, thoughtful and happy to be quiet until needed then stepped up to bat like a pro.

Stoker rummaged through his large duffel bag and brought out a giant book.

"This usually sits on my coffee table at home but I thought you might like to see it.

Mike opened the book to huge, glossy pages of pictures of mountain ranges in the wild and artsy photos of the Hollywood sign and fields of wild flowers and tall grasses. Gage was at a loss for words at the kindness. He could almost smell the nature over the antiseptic smell of the hospital. He had a sudden memory of swearing off camping when he'd been stuck on that ledge but seeing this book made him realize that one day, he'd go back to the things he loved. If they ever let him out of the ICU that is, he thought bitterly.

Gage stayed with the book until nearly the last page when Mike noticed his head drooping with what he hoped was contentment at his first food in days and a full stomach.

Dr. Early stopped in during the night as Stoker sat vigil reading from a novel he'd brought and munching on a granola bar.

Gage stirred so Early waited for him to wake naturally before checking his pupils and wounds.

Dr. Early gently tugged on the sheet to lower it but Gage held on to it for dear life. John did not want Mike to see the scars on his back.

"It's okay, Johnny, I'm just going to check your collarbones tonight, okay?"

"O--- kay."

Early hid his concern as even this small indignity made the young man flinch. Early was glad he'd insisted on checking the brace as a small fastening was making an angry groove in the paramedics shoulder and with a small adjustment that was corrected and the redness lessened immediately. John pulled the sheet back up as soon as his gown was draped back over his upper torso.

"Mike tells me you ate some soup. How's it sitting? Any nausea?"

"N-no," Johnny replied.

"That's a really good sign," Early smiled. "Maybe tomorrow you can have some toast and poached eggs."

"Lucky me," Gage said, trying not to sound ungrateful but he knew the routine, soft foods until things were settled. Still, this news should have been further proof that Gage was ready for the step down unit. He was sleepy so he let it go. Tomorrow would tell its tales when and if they really removed the chest tubes or not.

Gage closed his eyes but he was cold. He shivered slightly but didn't want to disturb Mike or use the call button.

Before he fell to sleep he felt a warming sensation and a gentle weight fell across his body enveloping him in comfort. He looked up through slitted eyes.

"You looked a little cold," Mike told him as he fussed tucking in the blankets around the slim body. A small plush bear fell from the bed. John's cheeks flushed pink. He'd been squeezing the bear through bouts of pain. It was soft and didn't hurt his hands.

Mike didn't say a word. He gently tucked the bear under the blanket with Johnny. Even Chet wouldn't say a word at this point about the bear when Gage's face showed fear of merciless teasing.

"Th-thanks," Gage murmured asleep almost instantly.

Mike was happy to have captured even a little bit of the trust that Johnny seemed to have lost in everything as he looked down at his friend. He swallowed hard. Gage was only twenty-one years old! How many times had he watched as the child the same age as his own brother carried people from burning buildings, rappelled down cliffs to save trapped motorists, saved drunks and criminals even without hesitation? And all this before his twenty first birthday.

At these musings, Mike realized that Johnny had in essence missed a milestone birthday. Sure, he'd mentioned that he'd gone camping and had what he liked to call a 'Johnny weekend' away but a twenty first birthday was a big deal and Mike decided that when his friend was all better he was going to celebrate a proper twenty first even if it was a few months late.

Hushed voices made Stoker look up from his book. If the nurse behind the glass booth that monitored the ICU was any indication she hadn't heard it because she never looked up from her masses of paper work.

Mike opened the door a crack wondering what the deal was with that much noise outside the ICU in the middle of the night. He saw not one but three men swabbing the floor half heartedly with mops as they made their way down the hall snooping into each room. Mike stayed quiet for a moment, pondering whether it could be a stupid hospital policy for them to check the trash bins in each room or something before he complained.

One of the men took what looked like a photo from where Mike stood and looked up studying Stoker's face. Mike heard his own name uttered as the men rushed the room pushing him back inside. A bright flash momentarily blinded Mike as he tripped over the chair he'd occupied. Spots danced before his eyes as the nurse yelled at the commotion and stepped from her booth.

"You can't be here. This is a restricted room."

Flashbulbs went off in her eyes as well as the men pushed her aside. As soon as Mike could see and had regained his balance he swung his fist out connecting with the guy who had been looking at the photo, which had clearly been taken of the guys as they exited the engine from across the street of the station. The man went down with a loud oomph!

A foot snaked around Stoker's right foot and another on the opposite side of his knee and he was swept to the ground taking the second guy he'd been wrestling with him. Stoker rolled to his back and quickly regained his footing preparing to finish the man off when the beside table struck his back sending him sprawling just as the other two men got to their feet.

Mike's head struck the railing of the bed as he collapsed to the floor. He got back up seeing stars now and spun to the right side of the bed and the man who had attacked him with the table using an upper cut to his abdomen, heartened when the man cried out and fell. Another flashbulb went off in Mike's face as the two goons got to their feet.

"Did you get it?" one of them grunted.

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

The nurse had called security and was now whipping the blankets off of John Gage's body and her hands flew to his side to hold the now gaping wound where the chest tube had been pulled out when the men had leaned on him to line up their shot of the paramedic.

Mike blinked at the very much awake paramedic and stumbled out into the hallway to get some help. Just as he was about to yell out, the three men were marched back onto the ward by six very large, very ticked off security guards and two Dobermans who looked hungry. There was no time for Mike to gloat over the bite marks all three of the men sported.

Call Dr. Early and some more nurses. Gage is … I couldn't stop 'em." Mike panted before rushing as fast as his spinning head would allow back into the room.

"What can I do?" Mike asked frantically.

"Put your hands here and apply pressure," the nurse ordered, replacing his hands for her own which she sprung into motion getting vitals and readjusting the drip on the IV lines, one of which had been pulled out and was bleeding profusely.

"Damn it, I don't know if we lost the canula!" she shouted frantically tying a tourniquet on Gage's upper arm.

With flashbulbs still obscuring his vision, Mike searched the floor for the missing IV parts. With a sigh of relief he let the nurse know that he spotted it on the floor between his feet. She quickly untied the tourniquet as Dr. Early rushed into the room.

Dr. Early tried to talk to Gage but was busy saving his life first so while Stoker stood there with his friend's blood and skin squeezed between his hands he tried to talk to him.

"Johnny, it's gonna be okay. I know none of this is okay. It's so screwed up I don't even know where to begin but I promise you, no one will ever touch you again." Mike couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes as his hands were gently pried from his friend's side. All he could do was stand there and stare at the blood that stained his hands and ran in small, weird patterns into his fingerprints.

Johnny cried out loudly in pain as the area where the tube had been was probed.

A sedative was ordered and as it was given, all Gage could say was "Why? Wh … why?" before his eyes slid closed.

It was a rare mercy that the chest tube didn't have to be put back in but the assault and improper way it had been tugged out by the thugs made it harder to stitch and would make the scars from it that much more pronounced and painful to recover from.

Dr. Early wanted a sterile room to stitch the hole from the chest tube and to properly examine Johnny so he ordered an OR set up.

No one noticed Mike stumble from the room as orderlies arrived to take the unconscious Gage to surgery.

XXXX

The phone rang in the Desoto household. It was four a.m. Fear gripped Roy and Joanne. Joanne had gotten calls like this in the middle of the night, always praying it wasn't someone telling her that her husband had been injured or worse. Was it wrong to be thankful that her husband was beside her so tonight, it had to be someone else? No, it was human.

Roy got to the phone first.

"Hello?" please don't be bad news, please don't be bad news.

At first Roy was getting angry, as ragged breathing was all he could hear on the other end of the line.

"Roy? It's me, Mike. Oh, God, Roy, something's happened to Johnny. I couldn't stop it … I tried, I really did but there were three and I thought …"

Roy was alarmed and puzzled at the same time. If something had happened to Johnny how could Mike have stopped it so why was he apologizing? Then the paramedic instinct took over.

"Mike, I'm on my way. Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other end and then 'Your call has now exceeded the three minute time limit, please insert another dime to continue your call or disconnect."

"Mike? Mike!"

"Mike was on a pay phone. But there's a phone right in Johnny's room for outgoing calls… Jo, I have to go, please call the front desk emergency department and ask them to check on Stoker and Johnny. Mike didn't say what happened.

Used to being awakened and having to be ready to go at a moment's notice came in handy and in seconds, Roy had keys in hand and was running to the driveway. He ignored the speed limit and sped off toward Rampart.

Roy pulled up to the tow-away zone, not caring if he got a ticket or towed. He noticed the squat, short miserable female manager of KMPG sitting in a brown Chevy studying the nearest exit like a hawk. He made note of it, anger rising in his chest but he had no time to confront her. He had to check on his friends first.

Sirens screamed to a halt behind him and Vince Howard and his partner rushed to the elevators as Roy followed them with a very bad feeling. The doors dinged open and a usually quiet ICU was thrown into chaos as men argued with each other over whose fault something was.

Roy slipped past the commotion with a backwards glance finding the sheets dishevelled and covered in blood where his partner should be sleeping. Mike's book and duffel were strewn about the room and another small patch of blood dotted down the bedrail and onto the floor.

A very shaky nurse told Roy that his partner had been taken up to OR. Swallowing back fear and frustration and knowing he couldn't get into the OR, Roy asked what happened to Stoker. The nurse's eyes grew wide with dismay.

"Oh, I should have remembered," she cried. "The young man who was sitting with Mr. Gage was injured trying to defend him and myself from the three men who burst in here to get a picture of Mr. Gage."

The poor nurse followed on Roy's heels as he Roy followed the trail of small dots of blood down the hall, out of the ward, up two flights of stairs to the payphones in the maternity ward. There sat Mike, head in his hands, phone still dangling and buzzing around his ears.

"Mike? Stoker?" Roy knelt down and drew Mike's hands away from his wound. There was a nasty knot on his forehead that was bleeding pretty badly but wouldn't account for all the blood down Mike's front and on his shoes.

"They got to him, Roy, there was nothing I could do. I didn't know they were … I just thought they were noisy. They hurt him, Roy, they hurt him real bad."

Roy choked back his fear, using it to help the friend he could help while praying that the doctors were helping his other friend in the OR.

The nurse returned with a wheelchair which she looked like she could use herself but she pressed on stoically. Desoto took Stoker under the armpits and helped him up into it, tucking his feet onto the rests and heading for the E.R.