XXXX
Gage held his hand tightly over his own mouth to keep from screaming out. The faces of the victims from his nightmare faded too slowly when he opened his eyes; tree limbs outside the window shaking their fists at him asking him over and over again the very question he'd asked himself, why? Why did you let us die? He sat up and suppressed a sob and tried to breathe slowly in through his nose, daring only to let his hand slip from his mouth long enough to let air out so he wouldn't hyperventilate. The smell of fresh flowers from his many mourners should have been sweet but left a foul feel of dread in the pit of his stomach. Too much like a funeral home.
It took a few minutes until Gage could trust his emotions enough to take his hand away from his face. It took even longer to convince himself that last night's fever must have conjured the dead victims into his dreams.
The sounds of the refrigerator door opening and closing indicated that someone was probably getting a snack. John knew that he probably had less than twenty minutes until that person returned to his bedside and he was glad no one was there to witness his leap into dream hangover land.
XXXX
It was evident to Roy that his charge wasn't really sleeping when he went back in to check on him, sandwich and tall glass of milk in hand. Gage's chest was still heaving feebly. It wasn't the first time the younger man feigned sleep to avoid admitting to a bad night. Hell, most of the guys at the station had sleepless nights sometimes after a bad run or nightmare.
"Johnny, feel like sharing a PB and J?"
Eyes opened instantly.
"You're eating peanut and jam? That's your-your least favorite sandwich."
"Yep, but it's your favorite and if you help me eat it, I can go into the kitchen and make myself a ham sandwich later on guilt free."
John eyed the glass of milk, which Roy handed over. It was drained in two minutes. Secretly pleased Roy shook head and went to kitchen for a ham sandwich and another glass of milk.
"So, you wanna talk about it?"
"Nah, just a-a bit worried about the hearing," John admitted.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?"
"Yeah … Jus-just hope I haven't burned the bridge with … you know, everything I d-did."
"Well, Junior, just so happens we're firemen so if you have burned the bridge we'll put the fire out and go from there."
"You're just f-full of good puns today."
"Nope, full of peanut butter and jam when I really wanted ham."
XXXX
The days that Gage was to have stayed at Rampart passed quickly at the Desoto's without more physical setbacks. The IV was removed and he even spent some time on a lawn chair in the backyard catching the summer's dying sunrays. He groaned looking down to the straps of his collarbone braces that left streaks of white skin where the sun couldn't reach. Great, bikini lines he thought ruefully. He held his breath to ease the pain of slipping on his shirt, noticing that it, like everything else in his wardrobe was getting too short.
Oh. My. God.
It wasn't like he was planning on having to buy a new suit any time soon before all this happened but the last time he could remember having worn a suit was for Drew's wedding and wasn't that a bittersweet memory? Drew had been dead for over a year.
The fact was, unless John wanted to attend his first tribunal hearing two days hence in rags, he was going to have to go shopping. With no money.
"Uh, Roy?" John said miserably stepping into the kitchen from the patio. "Um …"
"What's wrong, Johnny?"
How to say this? "Uh, um, I have nothing to wear," John whispered almost imperceptivity.
"Say again?" Roy strained his ears hearing something that sounded familiar, only usually coming from his wife on Christmas or New Year's Eve or something.
"I sort of … out-outgrew most of my clothes. I n-never got around to shopping and now well, um … I called the bank again today. Apparently they have some law that says the deceased can't claim his own estate, and even though you were listed as executor everything's frozen in case the fines levied against me for fraud need to be taken out of my estate."
"Don't worry about it, Junior. You can borrow something from me."
John's eyes grew wide but he said nothing until Roy burst out laughing.
"You are not going to have to walk a mile in my shoes, or my clothes, Johnny," Roy laughed. "I'll call Brackett to see if he thinks you could go shopping for a bit today and don't worry about money for now."
"I'll pay you back. If-if the department lets me go, I'll f-find something else and…"
"I know you will pay me back, Johnny, and it will be when you get back to work with me."
"Yeah." John tried to smile but the time was passing quickly and soon he would face his past to defend his future, and all of this before he was even declared alive again.
It took some convincing to get Brackett to agree to Johnny going shopping. He recommended a small shop to cut down on walking and too much strenuous activity. Roy jotted down a few specific locations that had same day tailoring.
Roy handed John his medicine and a glass of water.
"Do you want to nap first before we go?"
"Been lying down for two weeks," John shrugged. "Do you think we could go now?"
Roy knew that part of his friend wanted to get the shopping over with. Borrowing anything was a humiliation, but another part of him was happy at the prospect of going out of the house or hospital.
John squashed his feet into his too small running shoes and convinced Roy that putting on and taking off the braces would be painful and would take too much time between trying things on.
"Okay, you can leave them off but you have to let me help you into the jackets so you don't put your arms over your head or behind you trying to get into them, deal?"
"Deal."
Roy settled the seat belt around John's torso and buckled it up. He smiled just watching John look out the window, leaning over ever so slightly like a young pup going for a drive to a park to play.
The car came to a stop at Francis' Finery. Gage looked dubiously at the fancy curtained windows and the mannequins with the ruffled blue dress shirts and cummerbunds at the waists. He never much went for that stuff, opting usually for plain white dress shirts with a sleek tie. His eyes came to rest on tasselled shoes with bell-bottoms as he turned on his heels.
"Uh uh, no way," he protested. "I am not going in there. That stuff looks like something Brackett would wear."
Roy counted to ten. Again. Hadn't he just gone through this with Chris a week ago taking him school clothes shopping?
"This is the only place that does same day tailoring, Junior so get your butt in there."
Just as the word butt left Roy's mouth a middle-aged man with a slightly younger gentlemen stepped from the shop talking animatedly about a wedding. The older man turned and smiled at Roy as if he could relate.
"They won't have anything that I'll like," John grumbled.
Roy took Johnny's arm and led him into the shop keeping a steadying hand on his elbow when he stumbled a bit. The post concussion syndrome still caused sessions of dizziness and balance issues.
John rolled his eyes as he was led from rack to rack.
"May I help you gentlemen?" came a female voice from behind them.
"Uh, yes, miss Twilfoot," Roy read her nametag. "My partner and I are looking for a suit for him. Something simple and smart." And grown up looking, Roy mused to himself.
"Partner? Oh how wonderful for you! You certainly picked the right state to live in too because we're very liberal about these things in California you know, I have a feeling it just may be made legal soon." The blonde clerk with the overly red lips and blue eye shadow looked slightly misty eyed.
John thought maybe he wasn't paying good enough attention. He couldn't remember Roy saying they were paramedics so he spoke up. Roy looked a little impatient and puzzled and kept checking his watch and tapping his foot slightly.
"Oh, it's legal already in some places and we're really proud of it," John stated. "We can do our thing for the public and they really seem to appreciate it."
"Really?" The blonde clapped her hands together. "We really must find you a special suit young man. Your partner there looks like he spoils you," she noted staring at the firm hand on Gage's elbow.
"Yeah, we even participate in the yearly parades," John went on.
"Good for you! Pride is essential to getting people to accept you for who you are."
"Yeah…" Gage couldn't for the life of him figure out what the bubbling woman was going on about, firemen marched in parades every year.
"You know, I really should get Francis to serve you. He's always excited to meet fellows like himself. Francis! There are some young men here who would love your services with a suit selection."
Francis emerged from the back room wearing a salmon pink tank top and tight fitting polyester pants with shiny black shoes with tassels.
"Francis, these gentlemen are partners," Twilfoot introduced with that same dewy mist in her eyes that she had when she first heard they were partners.
"Enchante gentlemen! It's lovely to see you out together. And partners too … just so …" Francis trailed off and grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes delicately. "Excuse me, it's just that it's so nice to see partners out shopping together arm in arm. My partner isn't … oh but this isn't about me, it's all about you," he lisped slightly, tossing the tissue toward a wastebasket and missing by a mile.
Roy hated shopping and felt bad for John as Francis shoved suit after suit in front of his eyes.
"Try this on, Johnny," Roy said, picking up a simple suit and thrusting it at his partner.
John reached for the suit only to have his hand slapped lightly by Francis.
"Oh no, this won't do at all," Francis stated, casting aside Roy's choice as if it were a waiter's uniform and picking out a black suit with tiny pinstripes and tapered legs with a salmon pink dress shirt much the same colour as the tank top he was wearing.
"No, no pink. White. I'm serious," Roy stated.
"It's not pink, it's bubblegum. Bossy, bossy," Francis said good naturedly, ribbing Gage a bit. "You have a very strong, protective partner there. Very conservative."
"Yeah, he's the best," Gage agreed, completely clueless as he was led to the changing room.
There was some murmured cursing from inside the small cubicle Gage disappeared into with his black pinstriped suit and white! shirt.
"Uh … Roy?"
Francis moved forward to go into the cubicle. Roy put his hand out to stop him and went in and pulled the curtain firmly closed.
"Brackett was right about this place, Roy," Gage beamed. "They're real nice here and very supportive of the paramedic program too."
"Mhm," was all John got in reply as Roy manhandled his arms through the suit as gently but as quickly as he could.
"Ow! That hurt!" Gage moved away as his shoulder splintered in pain. He breathed hard in through his nose and out through his mouth.
"Yeah, well don't wiggle so much," Roy grouched just wanting to get out of there. "Do up your zipper too."
Gage caught sight of the price tag.
"Roy! Did you see the price of this?"
"It's okay, Junior, if it fits, you can have it, I'll buy it for you, but for the love of God let's just get going."
Gage stepped from the booth still supported somewhat by Roy. Just putting on clothing other than the loose fitting sweats he'd been wearing for a week was exhausting.
"The suit looks good, now let's get it fitted so I can get you home to bed," Roy stated, wondering why Francis looked like he was going to faint.
Roy tapped his foot, amazed at how clueless John was while Francis measured his inseam.
"You're very tall," Francis observed in a dreamy voice, chalking up the inseam as Roy bit the inside of his mouth glad it wasn't him getting fitted. He had nothing against Francis of course, just if his partner found out before the fitting was over that this was his best date in months, he'd probably freak out.
Two dainty cups of vanilla latte espresso later, the fitting and tailoring was done. Francis shook hands with both men. "I'll see you at the parade, gentlemen," he winked.
"No kidding, Gage said, you're a volunteer or something?"
"Or something," Roy said, thanking Francis and leading the very clueless Gage from the shop.
XXXX
John fumbled with his socks, his cast hand aching from the damp weather the day of the tribunal brought. He had a few last minute regrets at not hiring a lawyer to represent him like had been suggested. He prayed he could keep his stuttering under control, look the members of the tribunal in the eyes and do all the things that Roy and Dr. Brackett coached him to do, but in the end he was who he was and when he looked in the mirror he didn't feel like the six foot two fireman he'd struggled so hard to become. He felt like Johnny Gage, the kid from the reservation in Montana fresh from the train wreck his life had been. His hands and feet were cold and clammy with nervous energy and he fought his heart for control.
A small knock on his bedroom door brought Jenny, pretty in a new dress for the first day of school, or so Johnny thought until he watched out the window as Joanne waved the school bus on without the children.
"What's wrong, Jelly Bean? You're not sick on your first day of school are ya?" Johnny asked, immediately putting his hand to the tiny forehead.
"Nope. Chris and I are going to your tribunal today. Mommy says the first day of school we don't do much anyway and we want to be there for you. You don't stutter with us as much and so you can pretend that we're asking you the questions and answer us and that way you won't stutter."
Tears gathered at the corners of John's eyes. "Aw, Jenny I didn't want you and Chris missing school for me."
"Are you kidding? Chris hates the first day of school. He says the bullies are always twice as bad the first day at his grade so he gets to miss the swirlies, whatever they are. He wouldn't tell me so I won't be scared later."
"Yeah, well if anyone gives Chris or you a swirlie Uncle Johnny'll go down and have a word with 'em."
Roy stood at the doorway unnoticed, arms folded across his chest watching the exchange with an amused grin. Give John a kid to focus on and the world as bad it sometimes was disappears.
"Okay, Jenny, go finish your breakfast. I'm gonna help Uncle Johnny on with his braces."
"Ah come on, Roy, I can't wear those braces to the tribunal," John whined.
"Two more weeks, Junior, sorry, I don't make the rules."
John grumbled as Roy helped him with his suit and white! shirt. Joanne whistled as they walked into the kitchen and handed them both some coffee.
"I made you pancakes, Uncle Johnny," Jenny announced as Chris poured real maple syrup on the stack and placed it in front his uncle.
"Dirty pool, Jo," John whispered knowing full well Joanne knew he'd eat the breakfast despite his nerves so he wouldn't hurt the kid's feelings.
The pancakes squirmed in his stomach as he plastered a smile on his face and Jenny beamed at him.
"You need to be strong for your grilling," Jenny announced, causing Johnny to spit out the mouthful of coffee that was perched on his tonsils ready to take the plunge into pancake land.
He looked up red-faced and gasping as Joanne handed him a napkin.
"Gr-grilling? Who taught you that?" he spluttered.
"Chet," Jenny said proudly. "He was telling daddy that the tribunal wasn't fair, that they might as well put you under a bare bulb with no water and grill you."
Roy chuckled despite the incredulous look on his young partner's face. "Chet was using a metaphor, honey. He just meant that there will be some hard questions asked today."
John got himself under control. "It's gonna be alright Jelly Bean. Don't worry about me."
Roy looked at his partner. They were just words. Worry and paleness dominated Johnny's posture and face.
"It is going to okay, Johnny. You know today's just a preliminary? They'll either determine what's going to happen today or schedule another one. And the best thing about today? You're still dead."
"And that's a good thing why?" John asked, putting his fingers of his good hand down his collar like he was choking.
"Because I can handle some of the paperwork today. Technically you're still dead in the eyes of HQ … I know," Roy said holding up his hand to stave off the well-deserved rant. "Yet they're still having the hearing because the tribunal agreed to wave the necessity of documents proving you're alive since they won't be processed for another six to eight weeks. So, I can at least sign any papers and help you out a bit since your signature doesn't count for much right now … since you're, you know…" Roy made a finger across his throat motion. "And right handed…" he added as an afterthought taking in his partner's cast right hand.
"Thanks. I think," John said, his headache threatening to come back.
XXXX
The hundred and fifty year old building screamed of judgement. How was it possible for mere stone and glass to cause such intimidation? Fire Headquarters had started life as a church, become a courthouse and then was bought by the L.A. County Fire Department twenty some odd years previously. Most of the stained glass of a religious nature was gone but the ones that didn't interfere with the separation of state and religion remained. Others had been replaced by depictions of Blind Justice; the young woman with the blindfold and the scales weighing justice remained. Still other new ones shone with fires and emblems of the L.A. County Department and another a beautiful rendition of the flag with the bear. The past, present and future melded together to form a tribunal of its own before it even began.
A light touch to his elbow had Gage marching forward as if to the gallows, which if memory served him, this building had at one time. He cast his eyes to the floor to watch the prisms of light from the colourful glass dance before his leaden feet. And once again, his infallible savior won out.
"Swing low, sweet char-iii-ot, comin' for to carry me home, sw-iii-ng looow, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home," he sung as Desoto elbowed him gently, though he was amused by his friend's rendition.
"It's gonna be okay," Roy reaffirmed. Then he thought, what the heck, and started to whistle the slow, sad tune in accompaniment.
Joanne cleared her throat when they reached meeting room A and both men stopped, suddenly sober and very aware of what today could bring.
"I-I need a minute," John said. He looked down, anyplace but those damned stained glass windows. The highly polished marble floor was no better. It stared back at him, distorting his tall frame into a smaller version, his face sallow and disfigured in the lines between the tiles. At any moment he felt those thin, black and white lines just might swallow him and become the shades of grey that he never used to believe in.
Joanne straightened his thin tie and pushed his hair back. The door opened to camera flashes and Gage froze.
Roy knew it was a public tribunal. He'd fought for a private one but was told that since Gage was spared a court hearing and criminal charges, this was the best that could be done. Gage was a public servant and Headquarters wanted clarity conveyed to the public as much as possible. Roy worked hard to stack the seats in favor of John but most of the galley of spectators consisted of reporters who had camped out all night to gain entry.
Roy scanned the crowd to find some friendly faces. Nina and Andy sat in the first row and beside them were three empty seats for Jo and the kids. Dr. Brackett sat at a table with three older men, only two of whom Gage recognized.
"My old cap from 110 is on the tribunal," he said nervously. "I didn't know he'd been promoted to Battalion Chief."
"That's a good thing then, right?" Roy asked, watching what color remained in John's face drain.
"Well …y-yeah. It's just th-that I never wanted to let him down. Roy, I was sc-scared to death when I spent my first nightshift at 110's. I was six inches shorter than everyone, just met the weight requirement and … nights were still hard then. Cap thought it was just or-ordinary first day jitters. He really took care of me. He spent three days helpin' me improve my time at getting equipment on so the guys would stop teasin' me. He was the one who told me to go talk to you about being a par-paramedic. Now I have to t-tell him I was seventeen and I wasted his t-time?"
"You didn't waste his time, Johnny. You know that. Look, Cap Stanley took the news hard, but it was no more than ten minutes before he was on the horn defending you to HQ, the public, and the other stations. Your Cap from 110's gonna be the same. You'll see."
Jenny squeezed John's hand before being led to her seat beside Nina and Andy. Roy stayed close to John as he walked toward the chair reserved for the doomed at the front of the room facing the tribunal table.
John sat down like a man waiting for his fitting of the electrodes that should be attached to the hard wooden chair. He gripped the arms so tightly his knuckles turned white and he concentrated on the pain radiating up his arms into his collarbones to keep himself from bolting from the room and never coming back.
Camera shutters opened and closed casting ominous blue shadows on the faces of the tribunal and Kelly Brackett who tried to smile reassuringly down at John from the slightly raised platform. If John concentrated hard enough he could swear he felt those flashes going through him like lightning. This was never going to work. He was sure he'd pass out the moment anyone addressed him.
The so-called advocate chair was slightly askew from the chair John sat in. Roy's glare dared anyone to say anything when he pulled it closer with a great scraping noise and some considerable effort closer to his friend. The chair screeched and whined then made a sound like someone passing gas and slowly, from all corners of the room laughter infected everyone including the tribunal members. For a minute the camera flashes ceased and the 'fart' heard around the world united the room.
Things settled down as someone up front cleared their throat and motioned for silence. One tribunal member stepped forward and began explaining the proceedings while pens scratching on paper accompanied the words.
"First of all I would like to introduce the members of our tribunal. On my right is Battalion Chief McKonikee, in the middle Battalion Chief Smitherman and I'm Battalion Chief Landers. Our job will be to determine what if any action will be taken against Mr. John Gage, fireman-paramedic for the fraudulent employment eligibility requirements presented to the L.A. County Fire Department four years ago."
More camera flashes and hands in the air were halted with a wave of Chief McKonikee's hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to remind you that this is not a court hearing. L.A. County District Attorney found in favor of Mr. Gage that no criminal charges would be laid in this matter. This internal hearing is for the sole purpose of fact finding and the finding of appropriate disciplinary actions that will be taken by our department. As this is a precedent setting tribunal, the information gathered here today will be public domain but any verdicts and judgements will be delivered in private at a later date."
John's old Captain looked down at him then back to the spectators. He showed no emotion but his words spoke to John in a subtle manner.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from any photo taking for the remainder of the hearing."
There was muttered annoyance as people shuffled for lens caps and camera bags and tripods were hustled out of the way. Now John only needed to deal with the lights streaming through the windows that stared like empty eyes along with everyone else. He was barely holding on and no one had even formally addressed him yet.
Chief Landers took his seat and John dared a look in his direction. He gave a grateful nod for stopping the intrusive cameras. The chief nodded back but averted his gaze to the next speaker quickly.
Chief McKonikee stood up and addressed John for the first time.
"Firstly we'd like to tell you Mr. Gage that the department is pleased to see you recovering from your injuries."
"Th-thank you," Gage tried to say coherently.
"Secondly, Mr. Gage we would like to inform you that the department agrees with the District Attorney that this is a matter for internal affairs and as such we also agree that your transgressions were not of a criminal intent or purpose and were not meant for personal gain. Be that as it may, we are now under burden from the citizens whom we serve to find an appropriate means of discipline to ensure this type of thing doesn't happen again. You are not here, however to be made an example of. Rather we wish your reasons for joining our department underage to be heard so we may better understand them and you and come to an agreeable disciplinary measure."
"Yes s-sir," John said, gulping down a very large lump in his throat.
A stenographer sat off to the left, much like in a real courtroom. For a non-criminal proceeding it sure felt like one to John. He wondered vaguely if the stenographer would be able to figure out how to type his stuttering.
Dr. Brackett introduced himself as head of the paramedic program and gave a brief explanation of what that entailed. He pointed out as a matter of record that John was one of the first and best paramedics in L.A. County and backed that statement up with a sheaf of documents to prove that. The good doctor was gently reminded that character references were not necessary as John's record and reputation weren't on trial. Still the gesture was appreciated.
"Mr. Gage, could you please tell us how old you were when you joined the department?" asked Chief Landers.
John hoped it wouldn't be his old chief to ask that but he looked into the man's eyes and told the truth.
"Seventeen, s-sir." He hung his head, unable to watch the reaction. He knew everyone in the room knew this but to have to say it out loud was another matter entirely and apparently hearing it rather than just reading it had an affect on his old chief too. Landers took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly and sat back down while other questions were fired off from the high oak table.
John vowed to Roy earlier that he would not discuss his abusive past with anyone here. His mouth went dry as he gave as straightforward answers as he could manage without the gory details. When he fumbled, there was always a helping hand and since it wasn't a court of law and no objections were made, the help was almost always welcomed by the members of the tribunal who didn't seem to want to make the young man before them look any more desperate or sickly. The press however, took advantage.
Hands shot into the air as qualifications for the job were enquired about. John looked helplessly around. He didn't have time to send for his transcripts or other documents and those he did try to send for were deemed frozen because he was dead.
Kristy seemed to un-melt from the crowd. She walked boldly to the front of the room with a manila envelope in her hand.
"Excuse me, sir. I have Mr. Gage's education certificates and records here, all properly documented and verified by the state of Montana and the State of California," Kristy informed McKonikee, handing him the envelope.
The very impressed McKonikee took the envelope and passed its contents around to the other members of the tribunal who took note of the 4.O average and honor diploma. The matter of Gage's driver's license came into focus next but was quickly dismissed as unimportant since he had a valid driver's license since age sixteen, before he joined the department. Chief Landers made a notation in Gage's file that he would have to re-certify for a license to drive the squad if the department retained him however.
The morning dragged on taking its toll on the young man in the 'electric chair'. Pain was etched in every line on John's face. It was the longest the young man had been out of bed, let alone in the public eye being gone over with a microscope by friends and foe alike. Countless 'yes sirs' and 'no sirs', stifled tears and stoically ridden out bolts of pain from his injuries was starting to tell on him with more stutters and requests for repeats of questions and clarifications of what was expected of him.
Dr. Brackett invoked his privilege as head of the paramedic program and John's doctor and asked for a halt to the proceedings as soon as possible when Roy drew his attention to the fact that his friend was at the breaking point thought it was clear that the men on the tribunal were not out for blood or revenge. The ghost fighting to talk to John always got the upper hand when he was spent with exhaustion.
"Before we break for lunch, we need to pose the question that the tribunal and department would like to know. We feel it fair to inform you that you don't have to answer this question since you didn't bring a legal representative with you today. However, having said that, any answer you give…"
"Can and will be used against me in this court of courts that really aren't a court…" John said far more sarcastically than he ever intended. He was due for his pain medication, exhausted fighting to understand everything as the room grew smaller and the air seemed tighter and too warm.
McKonikee gave a worried glance at his fellow tribunal members.
"We can reconvene after lunch, Mr. Gage. Dr. Brackett makes a good point in asking for a halt to proceedings. It's clear everyone needs a break."
McKonikee looked at the once confident young man before him wondering what in the hell happened to the cocky, feisty demeanor he'd seen when he subbed in for Captain Stanley a few times over the years before taking on a position with HQ. John Gage was a damned good fireman … fireboy McKonikee realized, when he'd worked with him and made both he and Roy prove their worth as those new fangled fancy paramedics. If the old man wasn't so determined to keep up his crusty exterior, he'd be visibly shaken. Little did he know that the man to his left was feeling the same way.
Chief Landers watched the young man struggle with words.
"John," Landers said softly, not caring as much as McKonikee about how toughened old firefighters were supposed to look. "Let's all take a well deserved break, remind ourselves here that in the eyes of the law, no crimes have been committed, get a little lunch, a little rest and meet up again in an hour to finish this, okay?"
Joanne wiped a tear from her eyes and the scratching of pens on paper was cut in half.
"No. Please, if we c-can just keep goin' for a min-minute more?" John tried to look up at his former mentor but instead found a bit of peace in the face of his partner, to whom he addressed his answer.
"At first … I want-wanted to prove to people that I could do something good. Something that mattered." John looked Roy right in the eyes and focused only on him. Roy felt a little guilty, he didn't know how much John was going to reveal and he wanted to protect Jenny and Chris from the horrors of John's past but he trusted his partner and tried his damndest to provide a focal point for his exhausted friend.
Everyone focused so hard on them that it became unnerving and John's eyes darted around the room. He tried to keep his eyes off the magic clock that's hands seemed to go backwards six times as he searched his heart for an answer he could unlock and give.
"I-I didn't do it for myself. Well I did … but I didn't …"
"John, let's get you a break and your pain meds and some food and do this later, okay?" Roy coached gently. John's pupils were huge, the stress clearly aggravating his post concussion syndrome.
"I have-have to do this now, Roy," John whispered to Roy alone, putting his good hand over the microphone clipped to his lapel. "I can't come back here. This is it…"
"Okay, Junior," Roy said, handing John a glass of water.
"I-I didn't have an easy life growing up. I'm n-not using that as an excuse. I want you to know, especially you, Cap," John said, looking at Landers who seemed to dismiss the young man's mistake in his current title for the nervous tension it was. "It's-it's no excuse but you asked and all I have left is the truth … I told so many lies, I ran so much. I want to tell you. I want to stop running…"
John's voice hitched and his eyes closed with bone-deep weariness.
"My life was-was … different. I lost my parents and was left with my stepfather on a reservation back in Montana. I won't give you details." John's voice rose slightly on the last sentence and he tried to suppress a shudder. "I don't want any-anyone's pity. I expect to be punished. I want you to know that. But you asked …"
John wasn't getting to the point and the detached members of the audience, namely the press was all over it, scribbling furiously, some of them sketching pictures as they couldn't snap photos. Others, those in the department and those who had come to look at John as their family, hung on his every stuttered syllable.
John suddenly sat up straighter, his eyes finding Andy. Andy had told him war stories, what prisoners were expected to give for information if they were captured, how they were to present themselves. Andy nodded to the young man and tried not to cringe. He knew John was about to give much more than his name, rank and serial number so to speak.
"My name is John Roderick Gage. I'm twenty-one years old. I joined the fire department four years ago at the age of seventeen to help people. I fe-felt I was qualified at the time because I'd already been a victim. I was ready t-to be a helper. To put my past behind me and do something … I joined the paramedic program because I'd already been hurt. I was ready to stop pain in others. I kind of know what other-other questions are gonna be asked here, so if you don't mind, I halfta keep talking or I won't be able to … is that o-okay?"
The tribunal members nodded, looking like even they weren't ready to hear what the young man had to say.
"You can ask any-any fireman why they joined the department and I-I guarantee you the answer won't be because of the great pay or benefits."
There was an appreciative chuckle from the tribunal members.
"The answer will always be the-the same. And I'm not different. We all want to help people. The reasons for wanting to help people will be the only difference in the answers and mine is different too."
John took a deep breath like he was going to jump in an ocean and never surface.
"I was abused. Pretty alone after my parents d-died. Sometimes I did-didn't know if I'd ever live to grow up. I spent a fair bit of time in hospital. The n-nurses and doctors were always pretty nice and for a time I thought I'd become a doc but then I'd go home and realize I'd never have the money or the grades for school since I missed so much time. I'm-I'm sorry if this story is long … I just can't figure out what you want so you're just gonna haveta take what you get…"
"It's okay, Johnny, just try to focus on the question. Why did you join the fire department?" Roy reiterated the original question.
"S-sorry, you didn't ask for a life story … but the t-truth is, I don't know what you want-want me to say. I had no role models. I starved for that. I looked in town at the butcher, the baker the candlestick maker … sorry, little joke…."
Roy knew what was coming next. The flood. If John joked now he was gonna spill.
"The last time my step-stepfather beat me it was bad. Real bad. The neighbours hadn't seen me in a f--few days and they called the cops … sorry, police. The fire department got there first."
"They didn't have paramedics. The hospital was far away. They couldn't stop the pain, but one of 'em gave me their coat. My first ride in a fire-firetruck was to the hospital two towns away. I asked 'em to put the siren on. Made me forget the pain. It felt like running away…"
The furious scribbling was the only silence breaker. John wasn't stupid; he could sense the psychoanalysing going on in everyone's head. He'd been the subject of study on the reservation before.
"That's-that's not why I joined the fire department!" he shouted in frustration.
"John? I think you really should take a break," Brackett said as more of an order than a suggestion.
"Doc, ya gotta hear me, I said I can't come back here today. Please …"
Brackett sighed in deep frustration wanting nothing more than to take John back to Rampart and admit him for exhaustion.
"I said I was sick of running … A fireman, Josh Greenaway visited me a few times as I recovered. No one else did. He left the turnout coat with me for my whole stay at-at the hospital. I hung onto it when I got shots and stuff and when I was sc-scared. He told me I could be any-anything I wanted to be. I wanted to be a fireman then and th-there. I was four-fourteen then."
"I got out of the hospital. Josh needed the coat back; his spare got wrecked in a fire. He was burned pretty bad too and transferred soon after. I never saw him again but the bug was planted firmly in me. Some-sometimes after that it was all I had."
"The last-last time I was beaten … I ran away from home. I knew the next time it happened, I'd be dead … or worse."
It was the or worse part that invoked horrid images in the minds of everyone but the most callous reporters there who were too dense to understand what could possibly be worse than being beaten to death.
"Junior, you don't have to do this. You told them enough."
"It's okay R-Roy, I'm-I'm almost done."
"I was done being a victim. I want-want to help victims. I want to save people, because no one should die in a fire, or a car or by the hands of some-someone who should love 'em. P-protect them."
"It was-was a two part question, right? Why did I join the fire department and then why did I join the paramedic program?"
"S-Someone I really look-looked up to told me I'd make a g-good paramedic. May-maybe it was because they wanted to get r-rid of me because I was always complainin' about how we could do more, so people wouldn't be pulled out of-of burning buildings still fightin' to live and die because we couldn't do anything for 'em."
Chief Landers smiled sadly recalling that day and trying to reconcile that the mature and far too grown up person he told to join the paramedics had only been seventeen years old. No, it wasn't because he wanted to get rid of one of the best rescue men he'd ever worked with. It was because it was the truth. The kid breathed enthusiasm but was easily crushed by the death of a victim. He'd never seen anyone focus so intently on each and every life that passed over his slender shoulders.
And the paramedic program? You-you know how I said I wanted-wanted to be like Josh, the fireman who saved me? When I met Roy Desoto … I didn't want to admit it but I was still lookin' for someone whom I wanted to be like … and it was him. And I want to say in front of you, Sirs," John said, turning to the men, "that I'm sorry I nev-never told Roy who I truly was, that I lied to everyone and that I'm- I'm sorry if I've caused … I don't know what else to say …"
Everyone on the panel was relieved that the young man appeared to be done. Everyone felt wrung out and old, like they'd lived the story of John's life as far as he would go with the detail anyway. But there were those who sought to cheapen the moment.
"We were promised questions from the press period," said a thin, balding reporter who had clearly camped out to get a spot in the hearing if his rumpled clothing and tired appearance was anything to go by.
He was shot down by the tribunal members.
"We will convene for lunch. Now." If he had a gavel, Smitherman would have banged it. Hell, after this he was going to buy a gavel out of his own money to shut stupid people like that up. Wasn't this job hard enough on everyone? He and the other two men now had to go and deliberate an appropriate punishment for the young man who had clearly broken protocol and breeched trust of the public. Smitherman looked at the panes of glass depicting blind justice and lamented that he felt just as blind as she.
Before Joanne could stop Jenny, she broke free and ran to her Uncle Johnny as everyone stood and stretched from the long stint in the unforgiving wooden chairs. The press of course took that opportunity to resume their shutterbugging.
Taking in the tender moment between his former team member and the young child, Chief Landers turned his microphone back on briefly.
"The camera ban is hereby extended through the lunch hour and until these proceedings end. Anyone continuing taking photos will be asked to leave."
John couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Landers wink at him as the tired older fireman went to find sustenance.
"Are you grilled yet, Uncle Johnny?" Jenny asked, putting her hands on either side of his face in inspection.
"Yeah, stick a fork in me, I'm done," he answered truthfully. He was beyond exhausted and didn't get up until all the members of the press and tribunal left.
Roy gave John a hand up and the young paramedic stretched his back out as much as he could with the braces on. Roy handed him a glass of water with his pain meds, which he swallowed gratefully.
"Come on, Johnny, there's a small café around the corner. Let's get some lunch. You need to eat."
Dr. Brackett accepted an invitation to lunch with the tribunal but he stopped to whisper to Roy and place a hand on John's shoulder in solidarity.
"Roy, get a set of vitals if you can. If anything's too off we can reconvene another day. If John doesn't eat, buy him a milkshake and see if you can get him to drink it. He's gonna pass out if we don't get him calmed down."
"Will do, Doc," Roy promised as John rolled his eyes at the conversation he'd heard every word of.
John placed his hand on his chest, then to his own wrist looking at his watch. "Respirations too fast, pulse too fast, brain too slow," he reported grimly. "And if feeling your own knees disown you is any indication, BP too low. There. Done."
John sat back down. He wasn't kidding. His hands shook but nothing short of the wild horses in a picture on the wall coming to life and dragging him out of here was going to get him to leave and have to start this whole mess again on another day. It was clear that he was too weak to walk to the café.
Roy told Dr. Brackett that he would go get John, Joanne and the kids something to eat and bring it back to the room so John could rest.
Roy left to get some food. He avoided going to the fast food restaurant that was across the street, greasy food wouldn't do his friend any favors. Turkey sandwiches on whole wheat and cookies and milk for everyone and a milkshake for John were the order of the day and Roy paid and sat down to wait for his order to be made.
Back at HQ a few reporters returned after a hastily purchased greasy lunch not wanting to lose their place in the gallery. Nina and Andy hadn't had a chance to speak to John before the hearing began. They returned from their car with the cooler they brought.
The name Chet still hung loosely on Nina's lips as she first looked at Johnny, it was such an impression from the first time they met. For someone so sincere he was such a good liar when he needed to be. She didn't begrudge him this upon hearing the story of his life as much as he was willing to tell. She alone in this room had seen the breakdown the memories of his past could induce.
"John, I brought you some of the grapes you liked," Nina said, handing the young paramedic a napkin filled with grapes still attached by their vine for freshness. The fruit dripped with fresh water in which they'd been rinsed and Joanne was grateful to the woman when John accepted the gift sheepishly and slowly nibbled a grape at a time as if more would choke him after what he'd been through.
The grapes were cold and soothed his raw throat. There was an awkward silence in the room and John was suddenly conscious of his chewing and stopped eating the grapes until Andy spoke up.
Good old sports, he said again to himself.
"See the game the other day? Anaheim's out. George owes me twenty bucks. 'Course I'll be waiting for that through years of student debt repayments," he added ruefully.
John just nodded gratefully. Andy knew he wasn't much into sports.
A camera flash behind them made John jump and choke a little on a grape. Nina quickly handed him a glass of water while Andy went to have a little chat with the reporter. Jenny for her part stuck her tongue out at said reporter and was reprimanded by her mother despite wanting to do the same thing.
Andy had the man's camera in his hands intending to turn it over to the tribunal members and ask for someone who had the authority to evict him.
"Give me back my damned camerahhhhh!" The man's pitch grew louder and he grabbed his chest and fell to the ground groaning, instant sweat soaking his two day worn suit.
"I didn't do anything to him," Andy said. "He just fell to the ground clutching his chest." He dropped the camera and knelt next to him.
"Take it easy buddy, I wasn't gonna wreck your camera …" On closer examination, Andy became panicked. "I think this guy's havin' a heart attack, someone call the…"
Ignoring his own pain and spitting his un-swallowed grape into his napkin, John rushed to the man's side, crouching to check his pulse.
The man's groans quieted into wheezes and then stopped altogether.
"Not breathing!" John announced. He looked around desperately for Roy, remembering only now that Roy was out getting them food, Brackett and the tribunal was gone for lunch. Joanne, who was trained in basic life saving had taken Jenny to the lady's room. It was all him.
John checked the man's throat for obstructions. There were none. He placed his left hand on the man's chest and his cast hand over that for stability and started CPR, biting the inside of his cheek against the pain of every compression he performed.
"One and two and three and four!" he grunted past his pain, blowing breaths into the unmoving chest in between."
"An-Andy," he gasped. HQ should have a drug box and defibrillator for demos, a bio-bio-phone too … one and two and three and four" …. Breath "Go tell someone what's goin' on and get the equipment!"
Andy ran out of the room, having to stop at the 'you are here' map in the hallway before racing off to the reception area.
"Nina, I need help. I can't-can't keep this up. I need- one and two and three four..." Breath. "I need you to do the breathing part, okay?"
Nina looked unsure and scared but didn't refuse.
"It'll be okay, I need you to form a complete seal around his mouth and blow as much air into him as you can when I tell you to okay?"
Nina got into position.
"That's right, pinch his nose and seal it completely," Gage gasped in exertion and mind numbing pain as his collarbones shifted with every compression.
Feeling the man's chest rise with the breaths given by Nina John didn't need to further instruct. He saved his waning energy for the compressions, sweat dripping from his forehead trying not to cry out in agony when his cast broke away from his thumb and cracked up his wrist sending small plumes of white plaster into the air, which turned colors in the stained glass sunlight.
Joanne took in the situation quickly when she returned to room A and let go of Jenny's hand running to the downed man. Without a word she took over chest compressions.
Andy ran back into room A with the biophone tucked under his arm and the drug box clutched under that. A small older secretary hauled the defibrillator, apologizing to anyone and everyone that she was a civilian not trained in first aid and almost everyone who was trained was gone for lunch.
Andy set up the biophone, while John pleaded with the secretary to get a grip and put the gel on the paddles so he could administer a shock to the man's chest. The paddles slipped in his sweaty hands as he fought for control of his own pain. He tried to be calm.
"Put that gel on both these paddles," he said as kindly as he could. The woman responded to this.
The defibrillator charged to four hundred watt seconds.
"Clear!" John shouted administering the shock. He sagged in relief as the man's heart responded to the charge the first time.
Wiping sweat from his brow with his shucked suit jacket, John opened the drug box, happy to see it was fully equipped and the medications weren't out of date.
Gage gave Andy the vitals, which he relayed to Dr. Early. He started an IV of D5W with a Lidocaine additive and listened as the man's heart responded favourably.
"What the hell?" Roy muttered, dropping the food and shoving through reporters who were returning in droves.
John couldn't speak. He sat on his haunches seemingly not cognizant of the fact that Roy was back. He continued to monitor vitals and was for all intents and purposes on autopilot.
The ambulance arrived at the same time as Brice and Bellingham covering for fifty-one and took over care of the cardiac patient.
Roy took John's badly damaged cast in his hands, stabilizing the fracture as best he could.
Vince Howard an L.A.P.D. detective arrived having been dispatched to the HQ from a man down call when details were relayed that the man had been disorderly prior to his attack. Taking in the scene of chaos that everyone else had failed to observe in their haste to save a life, Vince cleared the room of all non-necessary personnel.
Bellingham rode with the heart attack victim while Brice stayed to help Roy with John.
At first Roy was unsure of whether to help John to his feet or to help him lay down. The decision was made for him when Gage stood on shaky legs himself. He swayed and was immediately led to a chair by Brice and Roy.
"Brackett's gonna have a fit," John groaned, a small ironic smile playing across his sweat-soaked face. "He told me to keep this clean and dry." He held his battered hand up as sweat dripped from under what remained of his ruined cast.
"Nah, he won't, he'll thank you for the extra practice he'll get examining it again, right Roy?" Brice said by way of distraction as he flashed his penlight into John's huge pupils only to have his hand smacked away.
"Ow, Brice, that hurts!" John wheezed.
Brice didn't like the sound of the squeak coming from deep within the paramedic as John berated him. He shared a significant glance with Roy.
Roy slipped the displaced collarbone braces over his partner's head trying not to cause him any more pain. The bruises from the previous breaks were going to have friends soon if the swelling around John's neck was any indication.
John allowed Roy to remove his tie but clammed up when Roy reached for the buttons of his shirt. Roy's eyes followed the direction John looked to see Captain Stanley striding into the room followed by the rest of the A shift.
"We were dispatched in place of sixteen when we called in available and were closer," the captain explained, stopping suddenly when he caught site of his youngest crewmember. "What the hell happened? Who did this to him?"
The protective stance adopted by the men of fifty-one was palpable. Anyone coming through the door better have a damned good reason for being there. Shouts were heard from the outer foyer about freedom of the press and over top of that, Vince Howard's firm, calming tones of 'nothing to see here'.
Placing a hand on John's chest confirmed that his heart was racing. Roy calmly related to Cap what happened and smiled reassuringly at his best friend who bucked again as he reached for his buttons.
Brice snuck a pulse reading as John was caught up in a wave of intense pain. When he tried to get a comparative one when it passed momentarily his hand was again smacked away.
"R-Roy?"
"Yeah, Junior, what is it?" Roy knelt in closer as John's eyes closed into a squint.
"Can you get th-them to give m-me a min-minute, pl-please?"
Roy wanted to say no with all his common sense but his heart told him otherwise. Gage was in danger of going into shock but he could give him a minute to get himself together.
Brice looked about to argue being asked to leave for a minute. Hell, for the first time in their temporary partnership Roy agreed with the walking rulebook. Add to the fact that Desoto wasn't technically on duty and you just blew the rulebook right out the window.
"Uh, Cap, can I talk to you in private?"
Captain Stanley walked a few short paces out of earshot of the rest of the men.
"Look, Cap, I think John's close to a breakdown. If we can give him a second, clear the room, just give him some breathing room, I think I can get him calmed down. He's not letting us examine him and he needs to get to the hospital but I think a minute now will save a lot of headaches later."
Cap trusted Roy.
"Uh, guys, let's go just outside the doors so we can keep an eye on what's going on and give John a little breathing room, shall we?"
Chet cast a sad look toward the slumped paramedic and did as he was told along with the rest of the guys.
"Brice?" Roy nodded toward the door.
Brice shook his head and acquiesced to Roy's pleading eyes. "I'll ah, just set up then?"
"Great," Desoto replied.
"Johnny? Open your eyes for me, okay?"
It took the minute John had asked for and then some just for that to happen and when it did Roy saw nothing but raw heartache.
"Y-you know what? Even here, I-in this place, today, just now, I for-forgot about everything and just did my … the job. But why to-today, Roy? J-just to remind me one last time that this was wh-what I was gonna lose?"
John's breath hitched and it was all he could do not sob openly and prove for one and all how far away from being a real man he was. Well, that and the fact that crying was strenuous and would hurt like hell if the rattling in his collarbones were any indication.
John swiped furiously at the tears that leapt one after the other out of the corners of his eyes. God he hurt so badly.
Roy kept his hand on John's shoulder afraid that he was about to collapse at any moment.
"I don't think you're gonna lose, Johnny. I won't pretend to know the outcome of all of this but things seem to be going pretty well here …" Roy wanted to smack himself for his choice of words until the corners of John's mouth turned up in a pained grin.
"Now who's the nutcase?" Gage wheezed. "And thanks. I jus-just needed to clear my head without all these people…"
"Minute's up, Junior, I'm sorry, you're getting shocky."
Brice who was clearly listening in moved back into position immediately. Together they helped John lay flat. Brice had the good sense to let Roy open John's shirt. The biophone was already tuned and Dr. Early was ready at the base station when Dr. Brackett arrived back from lunch.
"Roy … please," John begged, not having to finish his sentence as another strong wave of pain from moving from the bench to the floor overtook him.
"Brice, can you bring Dr. Brackett in please and ask everyone else to stay out. Tell them we need room, hell tell them anything." He looked down at Gage and noted the tightly closed eyes and rapid, shallow breathing.
"Hurts…"
Fitting an oxygen mask over John's face usually elicited vehement protests when he was awake and aware. The sudden compliance scared Roy more than he cared to admit. Roy fished through the demonstration drug box while Brice informed Dr. Early that Brackett was taking over on site.
John flinched every time hands ghosted over his torso poking here and there along the way.
"Johnny, can you hear me?" Dr. Brackett asked.
"Mhm," John replied tight lipped.
"I want you to take a deep breath for me, okay?"
"Mhm."
Brackett listened and frowned while exhaling in a sigh of relief completely baffling the senior paramedic and Brice who wasn't as familiar with the doctor's general demeanor.
"I think at this point the wheezing and squeaking noise you described are from overextension of the muscles around the pleural cavity that weren't properly supported after the collarbones came out of alignment again. We'll get some x-rays to make sure there's no fluid building up to be on the safe side, though."
John's body was absolutely rigid in pain when Brackett handed Roy a syringe with morphine.
"Hey, Junior, we're gonna give you something for the pain now okay?"
John nodded. A punch in the face to send him off the never-never land would be welcome at this point.
The shot worked quickly. The collarbones still moved grotesquely with each breath but he no longer felt them. He floated slightly and let the voices above him blend and blur thinking of what never-never land was actually like. Never get his own ranch, never have a pet or a person who he didn't let down, never keep his job, never prove to his stepfather that he was wrong.
These thoughts sobered John's mind but kept the pain from tearing him apart from the inside out like it was only a minute ago. Now he had one last request. He finally opened his eyes, which were surprisingly clear. He didn't know if he was lucid or crazy and he didn't care anymore. He picked his head up only to find a hand immediately planting it back down and kept there.
"Don't move, Junior," Roy said quietly.
"Have to," John said.
"Why?"
"Cause I'm goin' to the h-hospital," John said as if that cleared everything up.
"I know, we'll carry you, don't worry. The ambulance is just a little delayed."
"Don't want an am-ambulance, Roy," he whined.
Roy just shrugged at Dr. Brackett who was setting up an IV."
"Ow-ouch, Doc!"
"Sorry, thought you'd be kind of out of it by now," Brackett said, taping down the offending object gently and adjusting the drip.
"Help m-me up, Roy," John said, his head and shoulders already halfway to a seated position before Brice and Roy wrestled him back down. That was the problem with morphine; sometimes it worked a little too good in some ways and not good enough in others.
"No am-ambulance, Roy. M'not gonna die or somethin'. Jus want, Just want to get out a here, kay? Wanna walk out a here today. Might be-might be my last time as a fireman, as a paramedic you know? Can't take that lyin' down," John laughed at his little pun as the morphine enveloped him in her powerful embrace.
"Absolutely not, John," Dr. Brackett said with a little too much authority and volume as Roy cringed.
John's eyes flew open. "What? I don't-I don't work for you any-anymore, Doc, so you can't tell me wh-what to do. You're not my fa-father!"
The morphine and exhaustion unleashed the fury John had never been able to free against the person who most deserved it so unfortunately; Dr. Bracktt was going to be the recipient.
"Shh, John, it's just the morphine talking. Lay quiet and let it do its job," Roy soothed hoping Dr. Brackett wouldn't lose his cool.
"Let him talk," Brackett told Roy."
Oh God. It was all Roy think.
While John rambled some coherent stuff and some not so coherent he became unaware of Brice sneaking fresh sets of vitals and splinting his hand and wrist. Roy wanted to clamp his hand over his partner's mouth to save him future embarrassment but Brackett seemed willing to be the punching bag du jour.
"You were against us from-from the start," John mumbled. "Didn't think we could do it. Just like him. Said I wasn't …" John's forehead wrinkled in confusion as everyone who had stood in his way through the years fought to kick him one last time while he was literally … down. "Said we couldn't-couldn't do it. Know what we called y-you back then? Brackett the jacket."
John laughed at his own joke. "Cause you had that butt-ugly poly-mester, no polyester, who the hell is Polly Ester again? Oh yeah, that black and white checkered big collar jacket and I gotta tell ya, Dix hates that on you. She told-told me so, but don't tell her I said any-anything kay?"
Ohhhh God.
Brackett for his part seemed perfectly okay with everything as Johnny went on until John's eyes blew wide open, his pupils freakishly large still from the post concussion syndrome and stress and morphine.
"And you know what, Doc? I bet you got that coat from Francis', right? I bet Francis told ya it was cooool or no, what was his words, Roy? Oh yeah, tres chique," John said, trying and failing to snap his fingers like Francis had done when he'd said that.
"Roy … I think Francis wanted to date me. He took waa-ay too long to fit those inseams."
Trust Gage to only realize this only now!
Everyone chuckled softly before the sombre mood returned, as they knew it would. Where was the damned ambulance?
"Any-anyway, D-dad … I mean Doc? I-I proved you wrong. I did it. On-only for a l-little while but for then … for then m-my mom would'a been proud of me." Gage's chin stuck out defiantly, the lights from the fluorescents mixed with the stained glass accentuating the greenish tinge his skin was taking on.
"Pressure's dropping, he's going out on us," Brice announced wiping his finger under his glasses.
Dr. Brackett was silent as he administered something into Gage's IV port to raise his blood pressure a bit to prevent shock. Brice nodded as the readings climbed back up and Roy took John's pulse, pausing to give a reassuring squeeze of Gages's good hand as he came around again, fully aware from the counteractive affects of the new drug.
With a thrill of horror, John remembered everything he'd said.
"Oh God, Doc-Doctor Brackett, I-I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry … I just…"
"It's okay, John, everything's gonna be fine, lay still, stop fidgeting."
Dr. Early's voice came over the biophone asking an ETA on the ambulance.
"No ambulance," Gage said again and Roy was prepared to ignore it for his hurting friend's health.
"No ambulance," Kel suddenly agreed and Roy and Brice looked at him like he had a third head to match the ugly jacket he just so happened to be wearing today.
Kel took Roy aside for a minute and Roy was about to accuse the doc of being as crazy as his partner when Kel asked him to calm down.
"You can't just lie to him like that, Dr. Brackett. He has trust issues to last a lifetime without someone he respects, and yes he respects you even though a few of the younger trainees did call you Brackett the Jacket. What do you mean no ambulance? He needs a hospital right away…"
"And what's right outside with no ambulance in sight?" Brackett asked his red in the face paramedic.
"Ohhhh!"
Doctor Brackett leaned over the young man.
"Not gonna punch me are ya doc?" John asked guiltily as the morphine staved off the pain but did nothing to prevent the reminder of his tongue wagging earlier.
"No, I'm not gonna punch ya," Doc said kindly unable to resist pushing the young man's sweat soaked bangs from his eyes affectionately. "Everything you said was true, including this ugly jacket and about Francis probably. Listen, I'm gonna give you a little more morphine, not enough to send you back to Blatant Honesty Island but enough to get you to your feet to walk out to Big Red. It's what you wanted right, to walk out of here under your own steam?"
"Y-yeah…" Gage stammered wondering why the Doc was being so nice to him after what he'd said.
"Roy, can you call the guys back in for a minute please?"
Roy went into the hall greeted by camera flashes and called his shift mates back in.
John closed his eyes and let the morphine take affect and fought to keep some control. Roy and Stoker stood over John as his eyes opened back up.
"Whoaaa! You guys are tall," Gage whistled and subdued chuckles were elicited from a few guys.
Cap took over after Brackett told him what they were going to do and Roy was never so grateful. Doc had a soft side after all and he could be pliable if he had to be.
"Marco, Chet, you'll walk behind and to the right and left of our man here, Stoker, Roy on either side in case he falls, I'll be in front. Brice you part the Nile and take the squad to Rampart after we pull away, no sirens."
John exhaled a huge breath still filled with pain despite the heavy doses of drugs in his system. Roy and Mike helped him stand.
"Wait a minute," Roy said, gently draping John's coat over his bare chest and hiding the IV in the deep pocket.
"We're not giving them what they want," Roy vowed. "Okay, Johnny?"
"Th-thank you," John whispered, trying to straighten up and walk as tall as he could. "All of you guys … I won't-won't forget you."
"You won't have to, you'll be soaked in pigeon pee back at the barn in no time," Chet said, clearing his throat of the lump that formed there.
John made it to the door and hesitated, squinting painfully in the light flooded hallway and throngs of reporters.
"Wait a minute," Stoker suddenly said. He reached into his turnout coat's pockets and drew out a dark pair of sunglasses and gently placed them on John's bruised face.
"Always makes me feel cool," Mike explained lamely. "Practical too to see the dials on Big Red when the sun's too strong."
"Thanks, Mike," John said sincerely.
Brice was the perfect man for elbowing and generally intimidating and insulting his way out of the building of reporters, his wounded charge and his entourage in his wake.
Stained glass under the influence of morphine was something to behold. John was thankful for the sunglasses as the prisms of psychedelic light jabbed at him like swords. He stared up at blind justice, groping, holding onto her scales.
You need glasses you witch! He thought angrily.
When John finally made it to the cab of Big Red it was clear he would not be able to climb aboard himself. Chet, Marco, Cap and Brackett formed a human shield and blocked any picture taking as Roy and Stoker lifted their nearly limp crew mate aboard hopping in beside him while Stoker ran around and got behind the wheel.
Chet and Marco quickly climbed aboard and Cap took a seat he hadn't sat in for years. Brackett jumped in the squad as his car was in the underground garage next door.
Roy placed his fingers on Gage's carotid and extricated the IV from his jacket and hung it from a helmet hook beside him.
Roy reached for John's wrist when the young man's eyes closed.
"Didn't know you sw-swung that way old man," Gage giggled as the morphine warmed his entire body and loosened his tongue again. Roy took it as a good sign. Hadn't the first thing out of his mouth when a car hit him been that he was trying to find something funny to say but couldn't think of anything? The fact that John did just now ignited hope in Roy again.
"Quiet, Junior or I'll get Mike to do a stop and grab."
Gage looked up in mock horror as the very quiet engineer blushed at the banter.
Roy looked to Mike and gave him a signal to keep John talking to stave off shock.
"I don't think Beth would like that, Roy. When she picked me out of the fireman's yearly calendar she warned me I was all hers," he laughed.
"They really have those calendars y'know?" Gage said. "Asked me to pose for one too, but I was on-only eighteen and tryin' to keep my head down…"
"You're too skinny to pose, Gage," Mike taunted, signalling and turning into Rampart's driveway.
"Yeah, but I'm legal now … and maybe someone would order me from the calendar and become that four letter word you're al-always tryin' to sell me off to. W. I. F. E," Gage spelled in the air with his good hand as Roy grabbed it and put it back down against his chest.
"Told ya kid, we have to find a girl first."
"Course now I'd be the post-poster boy for what not to do. Only you can prevent being a l-loser," Gage said in a deep wheezy voice mimicking his favourite Smokey the Bear commercials from T.V.
A gurney was wheeled up to Big Red and Gage rode a wave of pain from being extracted. The morphine and pain battled for control. Gage watched smoke plume from Big Red's tail pipe from his prone position on the gurney. He remembered touching his poster for good luck before every shift.
"Tell Smoke-Smokey I'm sorry, Roy, 'kay?" he murmured before his eyes closed and he was rushed inside.
"Tell him yourself when you come back."
"Don't think 'm comin' back…"
