Chapter Ten

The day showed the promise of blue skies and gentle breezes. Johnny appeared at the DeSoto house early in the morning to help set up the tables and chairs.

Roy opened the front door with a mug of coffee in his grip. "Mornin'."

"Good morning to you, too. Got any more of that?" Johnny asked, nodding at the coffee.

"Of course," Roy replied, leading the way into the kitchen. "Rough shift?"

"Yeah."

When Johnny didn't expand on that, Roy turned to stare at his former partner. The silence stretched out as the dark-haired man focused his attention on pouring a cup of coffee, wiping the counter of a nonexistent spill, slouching against the counter, finally staring out the kitchen window at the yard.

"Johnny, please."

"It's nothing, Roy."

"It's something. I assume it involves Carlyle?"

"I can't talk about it."

Roy touched Johnny on the arm. "Can't or won't?"

"What's the difference? He's my…he's my partner now. It's not what we had, it could never be that good. But I had hoped for someone I could…" Johnny's brown eyes were mournful.

"Could what? Johnny?"

"Could feel safe with."

"Has he threatened you?" Roy snapped, shocked by the soft utterance.

Johnny turned away, once again gazing out the window. "Not…no."

"Johnny?"

"There you two are!" Joanne exclaimed as she swept into the kitchen. "Why haven't you started setting up?"

"Jo," Roy began, annoyed at the interruption.

Johnny cut his friend off. "I was just getting some coffee to wake myself up, Joanne. Don't worry, we'll get right to it."

"Johnny."

"Enough, Roy. It's okay. I'll work it out. Don't worry about it." Johnny took his cup, walking to the sliding glass door leading to the deck.

Roy grimaced as he started to follow his friend, stopped by his wife's puzzled voice and gentle hand on his arm.

"What's wrong? Did I walk in at the wrong moment?"

"Maybe." He turned to his wife with a smile. "It doesn't matter, Jo. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

"You're worried, aren't you?"

Roy wrapped his arms around her, gently hugging his first and only love. "Yeah, I am. There's something wrong with Carlyle, something I think could be dangerous."

"Roy, why won't Johnny tell you? Or complain to Hank?" Joanne asked.

"My best guess is that he doesn't think anything can be done." Roy kissed his wife thoroughly before releasing her to join Johnny outside.

~ E! ~

The party was raucous, the men of Station 51 engaged in a wild game of dodge ball with some of Rampart's personnel. Dixie was particularly adept at avoiding the red rubber ball until Mike Stoker trapped her near an eager Chet Kelly. Cornered, the head nurse laughingly surrendered.

"You, sir, are devious," Dixie said, slapping the engineer lightly on the arm.

Mike's grin was impish as he flung his arm around the blonde's shoulders. "Me? Never. Ask any of the guys, I'm just quiet ol' Stoker. Placid as they come."

"Still waters, Mike, still waters."

Joanne shook her head at the antics of the supposedly adult individuals tearing around her backyard like a pack of ten year olds. She walked back into the house to check on the food heating up on the stove. The doorbell rang, pulling from the kitchen to the living room. She opened the door, finding a stranger standing on her stoop.

"May I help you?"

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a tasty little dish?"

"Excuse me?" Joanne resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for possible help.

"I was looking for the DeSoto house." He leaned closer to the door. "But right now I don't care if I'm at the wrong address."

With a sinking heart, Joanne realized that this was J.C. Carlyle, Roy's replacement. The odor wafting toward her told Joanne that he had already been drinking. "You've found it. The DeSoto house, I mean. I'm Joanne DeSoto, Roy's wife."

"Now that's a great pity. Or possibly not."

"Hey, Jo, can I get the kids some of the Kool-Aid popsicles?" Johnny came bouncing into the living room, a giggling Jennifer riding on his shoulders.

"Gage." Carlyle nodded toward the little girl. "One of your byblows?"

Joanne gasped, backing away from the door.

Johnny reached up to swing a protesting Jennifer to the floor. "Joanne, take your daughter back outside."

"Johnny," Joanne protested, a flicker of apprehension coursed through her.

"Go on, Jo, I'll take care of this."

She nodded, taking Jennifer by the hand. She paused by Johnny. "Be careful," she whispered. "I smelled alcohol."

"Don't worry." His face softened for a moment. "But thanks for the warning."

Carlyle's laugh was scornful. "So that's how it is. Does Roy know you're screwing his wife?"

Shock yielded quickly to fury. "You're drunk, Carlyle, so I'm willing to forget you said that if you leave right now."

"You're willing? I'm not goin' anywhere. I was invited to this shindig." He tried to push past Johnny, only to discover that the skinny pushover wasn't moving. "What the hell is this, Gage? Get out of my way, boy!"

"No." Johnny shook his head. "Not this time. You're not bringing your filth into this house. Go home. Sleep it off."

"Wassa matter? Afraid of the competition? Look at you," J.C. slurred. "Putting your dirty hands all over that brat. You doin' her, too?"

Enraged by the other man's insults, Johnny reached back and let fly his fist. He put all his fear, anger and disgust in the punch.

~ E! ~

Joanne hurried through the house, having swept her daughter up into her arms. Once out on the deck, she put Jennifer down. "Go play, honey."

"What about the Popsicles?"

"We'll get them in a little while. Right now your Uncle Johnny needs your daddy." Joanne searched frantically for her husband, finally spotting him by the back fence, speaking with Brackett and Stanley. "Roy! Roy!"

Roy turned, frowning. Her shouts also caught the attention of the others.

"Joanne, is there a problem?" Joe Early asked, his white hair tousled by the afternoon breeze.

"I'm not sure, but…"

"Honey, what is it?"

"Carlyle's here and he's been drinking. I'm afraid he and Johnny are going to fight."

"Johnny isn't a violent man, Joanne. I doubt anything will happen," Early said.

"I can't say the same about Carlyle," Roy tossed over his shoulder as he hurried into the house, followed by his equally concerned former coworkers.

Seeing the seriousness on all the firefighters' faces, Brackett hurried after them.

They heard the fight before they got there, grunts and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Then a loud crash that caused Roy to start running. He got there in time to see Carlyle standing over Johnny's prone figure, holding a broken chair leg over his head.

"Drop it, Carlyle!" Roy shouted, veering around the couch.

J.C. didn't react, his arm drawing further back.

Roy knew he wouldn't make it across the room before the blow landed and caught his breath in fear. He was startled to be pushed to one side by Chet, the shorter man jumping on and over the couch, flinging himself onto Carlyle. They tumbled to the floor, grappling. Seeing the others heading to Chet's assistance, Roy and Brackett went to Johnny who was still sprawled senseless near the steps leading to the second floor.

"Johnny?" Roy knelt next to his friend, gently touching his bloody face.

"Gage? John, can you hear me?" Brackett began assessing the younger man's injuries.

"Yeah, yeah, I can hear you," Johnny mumbled, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"Whoa, don't move." Brackett put his hand on Johnny's chest, halting his movements.

"Doc, I'm okay." At the skeptical looks on both men's faces, Johnny amended his statement. "A little battered maybe, but nothing broken."

"Dr. Brackett?" Roy looked at the amused physician.

Having finished his cursory examination, Brackett shrugged. "He may be right."

Johnny grinned, then hissed as the movement pulled at a cut in his lower lip. He reached up and gently touched the wound.

"But," Brackett continued, "I want you to go to Rampart to get x-rays just to be on the safe side."

"Aw, c'mon, Doc," Johnny protested.

"Your only choice is how you get there."

While Brackett and Johnny argued about the need for further medical treatment, across the room the remaining members of Station 51 were busy restraining both a drunken J.C. Carlyle and irate Chet Kelly.

"That's enough!" Captain Stanley snapped. "Kelly, back off."

"Cap," the Irishman protested, glaring at Carlyle.

"Carlyle's under control," Stanley pointed to where Mike and Marco held Carlyle's arms. "No cheap shots, got it?"

Grumbling, Chet agreed. He jammed his stinging hands into his back pockets, resisting the urge to hit Carlyle again. He glanced across the room to where Johnny was getting to his feet, aided by Roy. "Should I call the police, Cap?"

"I think that might be…"

"No!" Johnny said quickly. "No police. We had a fight, it's over with."

"It's not over by a long shot, Gage." Carlyle struggled against the men holding him. "You attacked me, I want the cops called. I'm pressing charges."

Chet's eyes flashed with outrage. "You've gotta lot of nerve, claiming Gage hit you first."

"Uh, actually, I did," Johnny said softly, but still heard by the others.

"What?"

"You hit first?"

"Geez, Gage, you've gotta get better at fighting. He was still standing and drunk, for chrissake!"

"John, why?" Brackett cut to the heart of the matter. "What made you hit Carlyle?"

The battered paramedic continued staring down at the carpet, twitching his shoulders.

"There had to be a reason."

"Hell, there was no reason. His kind have control problems." Carlyle pulled away from Mike and Marco, barely keeping from falling onto his face. "I want the cops called."

"Just hold up," Stanley said. "Before anyone calls the police, I want to know what happened and why it happened. John, I want an answer. Why did you hit Carlyle?"

"I can't."

"Johnny, it's okay." Joanne had walked into the living room unseen by the others. "Tell them. They need to know."

Johnny took a deep breath. Roy's hand gently kneaded his friend's shoulder in support. Sickened by what he had to repeat of Carlyle's vile comments, Johnny felt Roy's hand spasm.

Chet growled, unconsciously curling his hands into fists.

"Where's the phone? I'll call the cops myself." Carlyle moved toward the table where the telephone was located.

"Carlyle, I don't think that's a good idea." Brackett stepped in the other man's path.

"Why not?" J.C. asked belligerently.

"Because they could consider your…comments as inflammatory." The doctor tried to reason with Carlyle.

"What comments? I didn't say anything. The dirty Injun's lying if he said anything different."

"I heard you. I was standing right here." With both hands on her hips, Joanne confronted Carlyle.

He glared at the irate woman. "You're a little too quick to defend Gage. If I were you, Roy, I'd keep an eye on your wife. Seems to me that the two of them were mighty friendly when I got here."

"That's enough," Brackett snapped, only his tight grip keeping Roy in place. "Carlyle, you're leaving. Joanne, please apologize to Dixie for me and ask Joe to take her home. I'll be driving Carlyle to his home, he's in no condition to drive. He can catch a cab back to pick up his car tomorrow. Roy, would you make sure that Johnny gets to Rampart?"

Within moments, Brackett had driven off, leaving Roy to help Johnny to his sports car. Chet followed the two friends outside, watching as Johnny bit his lip while edging into the low-slung vehicle. He hovered nearby, ready to help if needed. Once Johnny was settled, Chet spoke. "You can't let this go, not this time. He attacked you, Gage!"

Johnny looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "I attacked him, Kelly. I threw the first punch. I shouldn't have lost control like that." He rubbed at his forehead, his eyes filled with pain. "He could get me fired."

Chet was appalled at the sound of defeat in his friend's voice. "That's not gonna happen, Johnny! He couldn't do that."

"I fought Carlyle in front of Cap and Brackett, the two men with the power of life and death over my job. If he decides to make a formal complaint, they won't have any choice but to, at the very least, suspend me."

"Johnny…"

"No. No cops, no complaint. Just…just drop it." Johnny turned to Roy, now in the driver's seat. "Can we go, get this over with?"

Roy nodded, putting the car in gear and leaving Chet behind.