Acts of Desperate Men
Black-Angel-001: it took chugging 2 mtn. dews and a bag of candy corn, then drinking 3 bottles of mtn. dew, but i finally got this chapter written! enjoy!
Acts of Desperate Men
"Oh Father, who art in Heaven, have mercy on this, your wretched child. Oh Lord, who art my savior and protector, the enemy, my foe, tries to devour me but I am saved by your grace." --from a prayer for salvation and hope
As Johnny was wheeled through the hallway of the ER to an exam room, he kept his eyes focues on the ceiling. The voices and sounds around him were familiar, but different, and he found he couldn't focus on any of it. Which was just well, since he had other things on his mind. In very short order, Johnny was put into a room, and seconds later Dr. Brackett came in.
"Johnny, how do you feel," he asked while pressing on his rib cage and abdomen.
"Crappy," he croaked. Between the smoke and choking, John's voice was nearly gone.
"I can imagine." Brackett straightened a little and folded his arms. "It doesn't feel like anything is broken and your abdomen is okay. We're still going to take some x-rays."
"Kay." Johnny's eyes slid closed and then flew open in panic. "The kids, what about-"
"Dix is taking care of that," soothed Kel. "She's calling Reia and Stacey, and one of them will take care of the kids." He patted John's shoulder. "Hang tight."
Johnny closed his eyes again. Joseph Capbell stared at him, anger and hate burning on his face.
He opened his eyes quickly and flinched when a hand softly touch his tead. When he looked, he saw Dixie's tear-filled eyes.
"Dix?" Why was she crying? "Is Roy-?"
"No, he's alright." Dixie blinked and took his hand. "Johnny, I thought..." She breathed deeply. "You were almost killed. I don't think I could handle it if both of you were-" She cut herself off on a choking sob and squeezed his hand hard.
Johnny was amazed and speechless. He and Dixie were friends, good friends, but he never would have thought she'd react like this to him almost being killed.
"Aw, come on, Dixie," he ginned. "I've been almost killed before."
"This is different," she sniffed. "This time you were almost murdered."
He froze and stared at her with an expression he was sure mimicked a deer in the headlights. Before the conversation could continue, the x-ray tech came in, and she had to leave. The x-rays were taken in total silence, except for the techs commands. Johnny didn't really feel like talking.
Finally, Brackett came back with the x-rays, said the ribs were cracked, the ankle was just sore muscles, the bruises on his neck weren't serious, but because of mild smoke inhilation and a somewhat swollen throat, he'd be staying at Rampart for a while.
Johnny didn't fight it, just kept silent. They put him in a dark room, where there was a machine beeping steadily, and someone breathing in an even, slow rythm. Something about the cadence of breath was familiar, and comforting. In the early hours of the morning, with his mind full of thoughts, Johnny fell asleep with a feeling of something being right.
His dreams were a jumble, and didn't make sense. One moment, Johnny would be pinned and choking, the next he would be starring into a terrified face, which was gasping for air, the wide blue eyes familiar and haunting. He woke several times coughing, which intensified the pain in his ribs. Each time, a voice he knew but could not quite place gently talked him back to sleep.
When he finally woke up and stayed awake, the first thing he was aware of was pain. Even lying down, every tissue and fiber in his body hurt. He could breath a little easier, since the swelling had gone down, but his throat was still sore and dry. Johnny blinked against the light in the room. Someone shifted in the bed next to him and sighed.
What was so freaking familiar about the person next to him? Johnny coughed and made a small sound of pain.
"It's alright," a voice cracked. "Nothing's going to hurt you, I promise."
Realization hit Johnny like a lighting strike. He quickly sat up and looked over.
"Roy?!"
Roy shifted his entire upper torso until he was looking at Johnny. He was still wearing the neck brace, and his arm was still in a cast and elevated, but he was awake.
Roy was awake!
"Awake for real this time?" Roy cracked a grin.
Johnny could only sit in his bed and stare. Same face, same eyes, same grin, just lined with slight pain and fatigue. The grin turned into a frown.
"Johnny?"
Gage leaned back against his pillows.
"Okay, whatever Doc Brackett gave me is really messing me up," he said out loud to himself. "Or, this is some weird dream. Either way, it's cruel, and I want it to stop."
"You're incredible. You really are too much. You defy human logic."
There it was, that tone Roy had. Ever so slowly, Johnny sat up again and looked at Roy. And there was the expression to go with the tone.
"Oh, my God," he breathed. "You're really awake? For real?"
"Yeah, I'm really awake." Without much warning, Johnny started crying. Roy moved to go to him, but shooting pain in his neck and the heavy plaster on his arm stopped him. "Ah, damn it!" He looked over at Johnny as much as he was able. "Come on Johnny, don't." Roy swallowed a few times. Using your voice after weeks of not talking was rough.
"It's the medication," Brackett said after he walked in. He went over to Johnny and rubbed his shoulder. "Johnny, it's alright. You can stop now."
"Sorry, don't think I c-can," he said around the tears. He scrubbed his hands over his face, but the tears kept flowing.
"Alright then, just let it out." Brackett looked over at Roy. After a few more minutes, Johnny stopped crying and rubbed a hand against his eyes.
"Doc, you gotta change the medication if I'm gonna be doing that," he mumbled. He was very embarressed at how he cried like a baby for no real good reason, and they all knew it.
"Well John, I think you've got very good reason to cry like that, considering." Brackett looked him over, checking his throat and ribs. "It's all looking pretty good. Maybe by this afternoon you'll be out of here, and by the beginning of next week back at work."
"That's a long time to be out," commented Johnny absently as he leaned against the pillows. Roy snorted. "Well, y'know."
"Do I ever." Roy shifted again to look over at John. "So, tell me what's been happening while I was out of it. I got the short abridged version, but not much in the way of details."
"First, answer me this. When did you wake up, exactly?"
"Exactly? I don't know that, but I opened my eyes and talked back about...what Dr. Brackett, two days ago?"
Johnny's eyes went wide. "Two days? And you didn't tell me? Why the hell not?!"
"Because at that point Roy wasn't responding very well and I didn't want to get your hopes up if it turned out that he was..."
"A vegetable," finished DeSoto. Johnny looked between the two.
"But...he's okay...you're okay now, right?"
"Yeah, considering. So, tell me what's happened? You almost got killed?"
Johnny flashed back to those moments in the warehouse and shivered, then winced. "Uh...yeah, that's what they tell me."
Roy stared at Johnny a minute, then smiled a little. "Alright, Johnny. When you're ready to talk, let me know. Okay partner?"
Johnny relaxed visibly. He wasn't ready to talk about everything that had happened or was going to happen, and Roy knew it. "Thanks."
As promised, Johnny was back at work by the beginning of the next week. Roy was still being kept there at the hospital, mostly because the doctors wanted to see if any changes might occur in his behavior or mentality. Johnny figured if none had yet, they weren't going to. No one on his shift really talked about the night at the warehouse. Mostly because when one guy from "C" shift had tried to mention it, they had all glared at him evily and Mike actually growled. As far as anyone was concerned, it was all in the hands of the cops, and everyone wished them well with the headache. There hand't been any reprimand for the punches, but they didn't expect it. Campbell knew the system well; he'd gotten off light really. He knew that and wasn't about to contradict whatever story the cops had come up with. As for the firefighters, who were they to contradict a trained police officer in his job? They were just hose jockey's after all.
Keith had yet to show up or be found since the warehouse, and Johnny was only concerned he was missing because the kid wasn't that bad. Terrible paramedic, though. At least he was getting a seasoned partner this time around, even if it was Brice. But Brice had let up some, just enough that he didn't terrify patients into cardiac arrests or make the other guys want to leave the room. Unfortunatly, Station 51's "A" shift had a complete and total rookie firefighter, to take Chet's place until his shoulder was better.
"Do you really not know how to start the k-12," asked Hank, staring at the rookie with wide disbelieving eyes. Gage and Brice had just walked in the dayroom from a run and got a cup of coffee, looking around.
"Who doesn't?" Mike nodded over to the boot, Leon Orcot. John coughed on his coffee a little, and even Brice made a sound of amusement.
"Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we," grinned Johnny, slapping Leon on the back. Leon grinned nervously.
"Come on, we'll show you." Mike led the way out to the engine, opened a compartment, and pulled out the k-12, setting it on the floor. "Now, the trick is speed."
"Speed," asked Orcot, looking a little unsure.
"Speed," answered Johnny and Marco together.
"It takes some skill just to turn this on, never mind operating it." Mike hefted it up and looked it over admiringly. "It can cut through anything you want, just as long as you get the speed right the first time."
"So, how do you turn it on?"
Mike smiled charmingly. "Easy. You put it against the ground and run as fast as you can with it."
Cap started coughing and had to go to his office, said he needed to finish paperwork. Johnny, Marco, and Craig were all amused but Leon was back to being unsure.
"You run with it?"
"Yeah."
"On the ground?"
"Yeah."
"As fast as you can, remember," put it Marco.
"Yeah, speed is the key here," added Johnny.
"Really," Leon asked, turning to Brice. Brice nodded firmly.
"Absolutely. The difference between a good firefighter and the best firefighter is how well you start the k-12."
"Wanna give it a shot?" Mike held out the machinery to Leon. Leon looked at it, then at all the other firemen and shrugged and nodded. "Great! Let's go outside, more room."
The group went out to the sidewalk, cap coming out to watch. Mike handed Leon the k-12, who hesitated.
"Go on," urged Marco.
With a deep breath, Leon put the machine on the cement, and with one last look at the crew, started running. The others cheered him on, told him to go faster. Near the end of the sidewalk, Leon tripped and fell on his face. Ignoring them, Orcot stood, brushed himself off, picked up the k-12 and walked back, red in the face from running and embarresment.
"Okay, what did this experience tell you," asked Mike.
"That I'm a gullible idiot." Johnny shook his head.
"No, no, no, no. You aren't a gullible idiot Leon, you're just a rookie."
"A boot," added Marco.
"A newbie," said Hank.
"A probie," put in Mike.
"Alright, I get it, I'm the new guy." Leon grinned. Mike put an arm around his shoulders.
"Come on so I can show you how to start this thing for real."
Leon stopped short. "I don't have to run, do I?"
"I wouldn't suggest you run and start this at the same time," advised Marco.
"Uncle Johnny, why would you play that sort of joke on someone new," asked Jenny after Johnny had told the tale to Roy, his kids, Reia, and Stacey.
"Yeah, I thought it was mean to do that." Chris eyed his father with some suspicion. Both children were sitting on the bed, cuddled near their father.
"Well, uh, we didn't mean...that is I..." Johnny looked at Roy. "Come on, partner, help me out here!"
"Kids, what your uncle Johnny is trying so articulatly to say is, they didn't intend for the joke to be mean spirited. It was more an initiation, like, 'Welcome to the fire station' like that."
"But it was still mean," insisted Jenny.
"That depends on how you look at it, and which side of the fence you're on," said Roy. "When I was a rookie, they played a recording of an old call while I was in the shower and when I ran out I was not only dripping wet, I was half dressed and ended up falling tring to get a sock on."
Jenny and Chris laughed at the pictures that came in their heads. Johnny shifted his feet, looked at Roy, out the window, at Reia, at the ceiling, then back at Roy. He had been doing that since he got there, Roy had noticed, and he was worried. Johnny wanted to say something, and badly.
"Kids, why don't you and your aunts go see Dixie, huh?"
"You want to talk to uncle Johnny, don't you," asked Chris.
"I thought I might." Roy watched Johnny's reaction carefully. His ears had turned red at the tips and he turned away, still shuffling around. When the women and kids left, Roy pushed himself up a little straighter on his bed. "Okay Johnny, what's on your mind?"
Johnny turned around and bit his lip. He thought he was ready to talk about everything, but right then he wasn't so sure. And what would Roy think of him besides? The older man's opinion was very important to him, and he didn't want to loose his respect.
"I wanted to apologize." Johnny bounced on the toes of his feet, looking down.
"Apologize, for what?" He could hear the bewilderment in Roy's voice and looked up.
"For that fire before your...accident." Johnny hesitated on the word.
"Attempted murder. Call it like it is, Johnny." Roy didn't seem to have a problem saying it, and did so without flinching.
"Okay, fine, that. I'm sorry about what happened at the fire before, both at the scene and the station. I should've listened to you, but I didn't, I really didn't mean for it to sound like I don't trust you, and I don't want you to have to take the burden if someone had died."
"Johnny, there's gonna be more times when you don't listen to me, and sometimes it'll turn out okay, other times not so much. As for you trusting me, I know you do, and if someone had died then, or if anyone does in the future, God forbide, I want to take that burden."
"Why the hell would you want to do that?" John moved closer and sat down in a chair positioned so Roy wouldn't have to strain so much to look at someone.
"Because I don't want you to have to live with it," answered Roy, as if that said everything.
"I don't need you to protect me, Roy," gritted out John. "I never asked you to, damn it! I don't need it!"
"That's bullshit and you know it. The minute you and I were teamed up was when we started looking out for and protecting each other. And I don't mean it to sound the way you're taking it, I know you're gonna take some hard hits from this job. But whatever I can take for you, I will."
"I don't need you to," insisted Johnny.
"I know. Won't stop me though. You're more of a brother to me than my real one, and that means I'm gonna look out for you wether you like it or not." Roy cast his eyes down. "Like you would for me."
Johnny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The conversation had gotten away from him. Roy spoke again.
"I'm sorry too, for just yelling at you like that."
"If you can't yell at your brother, who can you yell at," joked John. They shared a grin, but John's soon faded. "They told you about Campbell?"
"Yeah, a little. He confessed to everything over the HT, then tried to kill you." There it was, the same calmness again.
"How can you do that? Take it so...calmly?"
"I've been nearly killed before, that's why. Once it happens a couple dozen times you get used to it." Roy waved a hand to dismiss it. "Johnny, cut through the red tape and tell me what's bugging you, okay?"
John stood and began to pace. "I'm not much better than Joseph Campbell," he said after much silence and a lot of false starts.
"What," frowned Roy.
"It's true, I am."
"Johnny, you-"
"When I found out that he'd done this to you, put you in a coma, nearly killed you, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him suffer in ways that were ten times worse than what you were going through. It actually crossed my mind to kill him."
Roy stared at his friend wordlessly, tracking his jittery movements and just watched him. The silence unnerved John and made him talk faster.
"I got what he was saying about revenge, cause I wanted the guy that hurt you, the kids, to suffer. I wanted, still want, the guy who killed Joanne to burn in hell. God, I hope Campbell burns in hell and all he wanted was his brother back!" John sat down heavily in the chair, head in his hands. "If you never want me around your kids again, I'll understand. Hell, if you never want me as a partner again I'll understand too."
"So, you associate yourself with Campbell because you wanted to hurt him for hurting me?"
Johnny looked up at Roy, confused. Hadn't he just said as much? He nodded.
"And you want the guy who killed Joanne to suffer in hell?"
John nodded again.
"Johnny, how does that make you like Campbell?"
Gage stared and stared at DeSoto for a long while. Maybe something really was wrong with his brain. "Roy, I wanted to kill him! Hurt him as badly as I could! For no other reason than he hurt you!"
"Did you? Kill him or hurt him badly, I mean."
John paused and thought. "I think I may have cracked a rib or something, but I didn't kill him."
"Are you sorry you didn't kill him?"
"No."
"Are you angry that he's still alive and want him not to be?"
"No."
"Congragulations, Johnny, you had a human moment."
"But it was more than a moment! Ever since I heard that your rope breaking wasn't an accident, I wanted the SOB who did it dead or maimed at the least."
"But you didn't see it through. You let the cops take him away, put him in jail, where he sits waiting for trial."
"Yeah, so?"
"Johnny, that's the difference between you and Joseph Campbell."
John thought about that. For a long time, he'd just wanted revenge for whoever had hurt Roy, and the nameless, faceless stranger who'd taken Joanne from them. When he found out Joseph Campbell had done it, and that it was all to avenge a brother he felt had been severly and unjustly wronged, Johnny had put himself in the same boat as Campbell for no better reason than they'd had the same thoughts and feelings. But he wasn't Joseph Campbell, wasn't even in the same ballpark, because he hadn't carried any of it through.
"Why didn't I figure that out for myself? It's so simple."
"It's usually the simple things that stump us."
"Alright, Mr. DeSoto, time for your," Karen trailed off, the heavy silence and stares between the two men making her wonder just what exactly she had walked into.
Roy started a little and smiled brightly at the woman, waving her in. "It's alright, Miss St. James, come on in."
Karen paused for a heartbeat longer in the doorway before straigtning up and pulling a small cart in. On it, were an assortment of vials and needles and racks, and Johnny shuddered, remembering the last time he'd been stuck in the hospital and had to have his blood drawn. He smiled at Karen, who smiled and nodded back.
"Are those your kids in the hallway, Mr. DeSoto," she asked conversationally as she tied a rubber band around Roy's arm.
"Yeah, they are," Roy said proudly. "And you can call me Roy, if you'd like."
Johnny raised an eyebrow. Was she blushing? "They're fine looking children." She pressed against the vein in the crook of Roy's arm with a gloved finger. After swabbing the area, she picked up a needle and quickly and efficently put it into the vein, then took off the band.
"How long have you been a nurse," asked Johnny, thinking to make small talk since Roy was too busy staring at the needle in his arm.
"I'm not a nurse," she said, changing out the tube for another. "I'm a phlebotomist. Normally, I work in the ER, but they put me up here since it's quiet down there, thank God."
"But the nurses in ER usually draw blood," said Roy when she pulled out the needle and put cotton on the site and folded his arm up.
Karen snorted and shook her head. "Half the nurses in this hospital can't seem to do it properly. The average sticking rate for a nurse is five times, sometimes more, and by the end of it the patient is black and blue, and the doctor still doesn't have his blood sample."
"Well, some of the nurses we know are pretty good at it," defended Johnny.
"Only because they've had military training," Karen said as she put a small square of gauze over the cotton and wrapped it. That accomplished, she took off her gloves, put on fresh ones, and pushed her cart to the door. "See you guys later."
Roy and John stared after her for a minute. John looked at Roy.
"Who the heck was that?"
Roy just smiled a tiny little bit.
Black-Angel-001: okay, maybe one, two more chapters. please review! click the green button below this text!