I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em.

Forgiveness Factor

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Twenty-one

The Wounded Heart of a Battered Soul

Thanks Kathy'ssis.

There was silence for what seemed like a long time at the words young Ryan had spoken and the question he had asked.

The words, "Even when he's not being mean you know he's going to, you just don't know when. He just makes everyone feel sad when he's around," seemed to echo in the older man's heart. It was a slight drop of hot coffee on his hand that brought him back to the conversation and the young man talking.

"Boy, I can't even begin to pretend I have an answer for all that you're asking or what you're feeling. I believe that your father loves you with all of his heart, he just doesn't have the slightest understanding of how to show you."

The older man paused; the thought that silenced him was wondering if this was how his son felt when taken from his childhood home to come to California. Just whom had John wished was his father instead of the drunk who had beat him?

"That said no one should have to endure the pain and suffering you have. You have the right to a happy childhood, more of a right than your father has to have you with him."

The nurse came to tell them that John was ready for visitors again. John Sr. waved the boy and his aunt on, "It is Ryan's turn; I know John is eager to see him also."

Ryan eagerly started toward John's hospital room but stopped short of the door and stood before it with a nervous fidget in his hands. His aunt saw this and was quickly at his side gently knocking on the door before them.

"Come in."

It was Linda Brown who pushed the door open and then nudged her nephew forward. It was the smile on John's face and his left hand beckoning him forward that got Ryan to walk into the room.

Linda followed and listened to the man she had so grown to admire call her nephew by name and reach out to him. She stayed just long enough to thank him for all he had done and tell him she was so glad he was improving before wishing him a speedy recovery. She then left the room knowing Ryan would open up to his mentor better without her hovering.

"Just remember not to tire Mr. Gage too much. He still needs his rest so he can finish recovering." Linda admonished before she left. Ryan gave her an understanding nod and watched as she backed out of the room closing the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry,"

"Thank you," the two spoke at the same time before they both stopped to hear what the other wanted to say. When Ryan didn't speak up Johnny did. "Thank you for getting Lisa out of there that took a lot of bravery."

"I always thought a person who ran away was just a big chicken." Ryan hung his head.

"If that's the case I'm the biggest chicken there ever was," John responded as he reached out with his good hand and gently lifted Ryan's chin so that he was looking him in the eyes. "I never think twice before I run, and I always run away when I even think a fire is going to flash or something dangerous is coming my way."

John smiled, and Ryan gave him an unbelieving glance. "But you save people."

"Most of the time that means I just grab them up and run away with them, that's all. I never willingly stay where I think I might get hurt." John responded to the young boy's denial of his claim.

"How have you been doin?" John cut to the chase while he still held his fingers under the boys chin. He could feel his limited energy fading, and the nurse had told him that his orthopedic specialist along with a neurological specialist would be there soon to probe for arm strength, and test for nerve damage. He was sure once they arrived his chance to talk with Ryan would be gone until another time.

"Been kind 'a hard, I sort 'a felt like it was all my fault for a while." Ryan admitted as he managed to step away from John's hand and drop his gaze to his feet again. Looking up barely enough to see John's face he continued. "Aunt Linda and my mom, they all said I didn't do anything wrong but I still feel if I wasn't there you'd be okay."

"They're right it wasn't your fault. Nothing that happened was your fault." John spoke as he tried to turn so that he could give Ryan a more direct look. With his right arm in the soft splint he found it less than what he wanted. "You do know that now don't you?"

"I guess so, at least Chris DeSoto said it was all my dad's fault. . ." the boy seemed unable to say more.

"He's right you know." John responded and after a deep sigh Ryan shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I don't want to go back to school, I wish I could move."

John understood those feelings too, in fact his life came under control when he did move, but that wasn't something he could see happening to Ryan. He needed family, his aunt and uncle that is, and it was in his best interest to have his mother close by. Johnny felt that she was truly getting her life in order and would be able to properly care for Ryan in the foreseeable future.

"Things will fade in time Ryan, the kids won't talk forever. You just need to always remember that it only makes things worse if you get angry, and it never does any good to hit back with either fists or words."

After leaving her nephew with the man who had made such a difference in his life, Linda Brown found her way back to the waiting area where John Sr. still sat pondering on the words young Ryan had spoken.

John Sr. looked up to acknowledge the woman as she entered the room, and at his silent acknowledgement she started to babble.

"I left them alone together. They needed to speak freely. You have no idea what your son has meant to Ryan, how much he's helped him. When he first came to stay with us that boy was afraid of his own shadow. He was so depressed we were afraid he'd make another attempt at taking his own life. Every time we reached out to touch him he would flinch and pull away like he thought we were going to beat him. We've all done our best with him but it's been your son who has been able to get through to him and pull the Ryan we all love out into the open.

"John is the only one he'll talk to about his nightmares and about how some of the kids at school treat him. He's also the only one that has real answers for Ryan that's helped get him through it all. The psychiatrist Ryan's been seeing isn't nearly as helpful to him as Mr. Gage is."

"I know this is horrible of me, but I hope they lock Rodger up for a very long time and that he's never allowed to see his son again. I know he's my brother and I shouldn't say that. I do care for him but I hate him for what he's done to his own wife and son. This last month has proven he isn't capable of changing. He just isn't willing to see the harm he's doing. All he cares about is what he wants, not a care in the world about what's best for his son or anyone else he's hurt. You know Margery told me that when her brother picked him up after being released from the prison his first words were something about how Margery needed reminding on who wore the pants in the family. The next thing he said was he wanted a beer. He has never once voiced a hint of an apology for the pain he's caused. Everything he's said is an excuse or to complain about how unfairly he feels he's being treated. That six months he spent locked away didn't teach him anything. I wish I could have kept him from even having supervised visitation with Ryan, it was clear from the first visit that he intimidated Ryan and made him miserable even from across the room."

Linda continued to ramble, her face wet with tears long-held in. When she began to repeat herself, John Sr. reached out to lay what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder while a nurse's aide discreetly slipped an open box of tissues on her lap.

When three doctors entered John's hospital room and young Ryan came out, John Sr. quickly turned his wheelchair to block the boy's view of his aunt; giving her a heads up that the boy was coming and a chance to quickly pull herself together before Ryan saw her.

He hadn't said a word in defense of a person's ability to change. He knew she would have never heard him. He knew that before her brother could make the changes she wanted to see, Rodger Clayton had to want to make those changes himself. There was nothing she or others could say to make it so. From his own life John Sr. also knew it was going to take longer than just six months to correct long-term negative behavior. Any change made by force or outside control would not last once that control was withdrawn. The changes needed to come from within.

It didn't take much for him to see his first wife's sister sitting in the spot where Linda Brown now sat or to imagine Rose saying the very same words he heard from this women he met a few minutes ago. In fact they weren't a lot different from the words she did use when he first called wanting to make contact with the son he sent away.

Linda did a pretty good job of hiding her tears and turning a smile to Ryan when he came close.

"The Doctors said they wanted to look at Mr. Gage's arm," Ryan reported, "I guess we better go home now."

John Sr. managed to hide all of his emotions from his voice as he turned to the boy who was now what his son had once been. "I do hope you're able to come again. I know John will need all of his friends around as he finishes healing up. Regrettably, I must return home on Friday."

"We'll be sure to keep in touch with Mr. Gage and check in on him as often as we can." Linda assured with a smile. Ryan studying her face intently to make sure she was being honest began to smile also. Watching the two of them walking toward the elevator John Sr. was able to watch the doors close behind them before he felt the first of his tears on his cheek.

The wait for the doctors results on the out-come of John's arm injury seemed eternal. It had been clear for days now his son worried about not being able to return to a job he wholly identified his worth as a human being with. John Sr. knew well the emotional trauma of having to change your way of life because of an irreparable injury, he didn't wish that experience on his son. His son had suffered enough, and suffered at his hands. His silent prayer rose to whatever power would listen 'please let him return to the work he loves'.

When three men walked out of his son's room, two wearing white lab coats and the third in green surgical scrubs, they were all hanging their heads. Once the door closed behind them they shared some quiet words before the one he knew as Dr. Brackett led the other two in his direction.

All ready believing the worst, John Sr. rolled his wheelchair a few feet forward to meet them and was the first to break the silence.

"You men look as if you're about to bear bad news. Have you already told John or is that yet to come?"

"No," Dr. Brackett spoke quickly, "the situation is not as bad as we first feared."

"There is still significant swelling due to the trauma your son has endured but he is responding to pain stimuli." The second Dr. in the white lab coat spoke next. "We're going to start him on an electrical stimulation therapy. This will help stimulate the blood flow in his arm and fingers. Extensive research shows that this speeds up the healing process and reduces the chances of infection setting into the wound. It will be painful for the first while but your son is strong and strong-willed, he's ready and willing to move forward."

It was then that the things being said began to register on John Sr. If his son was responding to pain stimuli they must have had to inflict pain on him. His son was hurting, again. Before he could ask questions to confirm his thoughts the third Doctor, the one in the surgical scrubs, took his turn with information as John Sr. watched a nurse step into his son's room with a syringe in her hands.

"The wound is healing. We'll take him back to surgery tomorrow and complete the debriding and remove the small bone splinters. If things look as good inside as I suspect they will, we'll pull in a plastic surgeon at that time and close the wound."

Dr. Brackett spoke up one more time. "Recovery time and its length depend on this latest surgery. Johnny's going to need some extensive physical therapy but as long as there are no unforeseeable complications he should make a full recovery."

Overcome with emotion, feeling the pain that lay ahead for his son, the father let out a sigh of mixed relief, tears flowing anew.

When John Sr. had pasted a smile on his face he returned to his son's room to find a nurse and a nurse's aide working together to place pillows under and around John's arm to make him comfortable.

"What the doctor's had to do was very painful," The nurse explained. "We've given him something for the pain and it's making him drowsy. If possible, he needs someone to help him finish his soup there and then he needs to sleep as long as he will."

"It's been a day or two since I've spoon fed anyone but I'm sure I can remember how," John Sr. attempted humor as he carefully maneuvered around the nurses positioning him and the cart so that he could feed his son.

Using the aid of a cool damp wash cloth across his face between bites, John was able to get his son to eat most of the soup served for lunch before he was too sleepy to swallow.

"Sleep now boy," John Sr. reached up to tenderly place a hand on his son's head as he had done when he was much younger. The flinch as his hand neared his son's head and the way he pulled back from his touch might well have been a punch in the face. It didn't make it any easier knowing it was his son's subconscious feeling he was unable to hide because of the pain meds, and it didn't make it easier to endure things said by those who just needed to talk. The sting of both was felt long and hard.

John Sr. remained at the side of his son's hospital bed watching him sleep. It was hard to realize that the doctors needed to cause him pain to gain a clear understanding of his injury. It was almost as hard to watch his son in sleep. He had enough drugs in him to make it impossible to keep his eyes open but his head and arms twitched, even the one that was in the soft bandage and immobilized.

With fatherly desires to offer comfort, John reached out and held his son's uninjured hand speaking soft, calming words. In a short time he noticed that his words seemed to make things worse so he remained silent holding his hand. It helped to quiet him some but only some. John Sr. sat at the bedside silently holding his son's hand and thinking hard on the why of it all as the words he had listened to earlier replayed through his mind.

"He just isn't willing to see the harm he's doing and all he cares about is what he wants." Linda Brown had said of her brother, his own wife had said things similar at some of the efforts he's made to push his son to forgive him and return to being the son who trusted his love for him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Johnny started to moan in the bed as his head shifted back and forth in obvious pain and fear as he mumbled in his sleep. "No Poppy, stop, Pleeese stop."

John Sr.'s first thought was to slap his son's face to wake him up but as he reached to do so he heard young Ryan's voice.

"Even when he's not being mean you know he's going to, you just don't know when."

Instead of slapping his face to wake him, the father instead lowered the side rail of the bed slipping his hand under his son's shoulders pulling him closer in an effort to comfort him back to sleep. He had a firm hold to prevent Johnny from aggravating his injuries further. When it didn't help he reached out and pressed the button to call the nurse.

"What seems to be the problem?" The nurse asked as she quickly entered the room.

"Please stop, I'll do what you want." Johnny moaned and mumbled in the bed with his father's arms cradling him close.

"He's having a nightmare," John Sr. explained his eyes' watering with what the nurse didn't understand was guilt. "I can't wake him up to tell him it's just a dream."

"With all those pain meds in him it's no wonder," the nurse explained, "his doctor left an order for something that will help if this were to happen. I'll be right back."

She hurried from the room leaving father and son alone once again as John Sr. struggled with what he could say that might calm his son.

"Son," he started and stopped, Johnny's words reverberated loudly in his mind, words spoken in anger upon their first meeting in Montana.

"You lost the right to call me son a long time ago."

"John," he began again. "You're safe, it's just a dream. John, John can you hear me?" Tears of anguish started to fill his eyes, as his mind revisited his talk with his daughter. "John, I can't promise I'll never hurt you again, especially now with all these wounds you have but I promise you this, I will never strike you. I will never strike you, not ever again."

"Please let me go," John continued to mutter as the door to his room flew open again, the nurse rushing in with a syringe in one hand. She flipped it over to get the air bubbles at the top so that she could expel them. She then slightly pushed the plunger until a couple of drops of liquid came from the needle before injecting it into a port in the IV that was still running into John's arm. With the medication delivered, the nurse capped the needle stuffing it into a jar on the far side of the night stand on her way to the bathroom. She returned with a damp washcloth.

John was starting to calm down, under the influence of the added medication, as she wiped his face with a washcloth speaking softly and calmly to him.

"It's alright Johnny, you're safe here, you're in the hospital and you're safe now. That's it just relax and rest," She cooed at his side.

Only when Johnny's breathing calmed, and his fear strained facial features melted into calmness, did John Sr. pull his arm from under his son's shoulders beginning to calm his own breathing. He kept his hold on his son's hand.

"I think he'll rest well now," the nurse spoke to the clearly rattled father. "With all that happened when he got shot this kind of thing is expected. I've known Johnny a long time and he always manages to work things out. If he needs help later on his doctor will help him find someone to talk to."

With those words the nurse quietly stepped out of the room giving a backward glance as she left. John Sr. knew she hadn't heard Johnny's pleading or use of his name. She only knew of the most recent attack on this brave soul, not about recurring nightmares he suffered from or why. John Sr. knew how his son would take to the idea of talking to someone. Those damn anthropologists.

As the calm returned to the room, John continued to silently hold his son's hand unwilling to let go. This was a time he could do so, a time he could indulge in his wants without hurting his son emotionally. In the quiet of the room he once again began to think.

'Yes son, your sister is young and she will forgive me but the biggest reason isn't because she's young, it's because she has never experience the stinging pain of my vengeance and betrayal.' John Sr. silently spoke to his own mind as if he were his wife speaking to him in one of her counseling moods he so often detested.

Roy DeSoto stopped in after bringing a patient into the hospital. John Sr. could tell instantly, by the way Roy eyed his partner over, he knew something was not right. His gaze quickly shifted to him with a look that clearly asked for an explanation.

The elder man wheeled his chair closer to the door to meet the friend he knew, without doubt, understood his son better than he did.

"The doctors examined his arm thoroughly an hour or so ago," John Sr. spoke softly not wanting his voice or words to disturb his son. "They said that it was responding to pain stimuli. They're confident that in time with some electro therapy, along with a lot of physical therapy, he'll regain full use of the arm. They're going to take him into surgery tomorrow morning. A plastic surgeon will do more repairs on the arm and close up the wound to prevent infection.

"He was tired to begin with but when they got through poking around, and whatever else they had to do to him to get their answers, he was pretty well done in. The nurse gave him something for the pain and to help him rest. About a half hour later he started having a nightmare that we couldn't wake him up from. The nurse gave him some additional medication. She said the doctors anticipated such a problem. He's been resting peacefully since then."

Roy nodded in understanding a sigh of relief escaping. The news was encouraging. If all went well that meant he would have his partner and friend back in the squad with him as soon as he healed up.

"Did they say when they were going to take him to surgery in the morning?" Roy asked, already planning to be at the hospital as soon as he was off duty but he was sure the rest of the crew would want to be there too.

"I've not been told a specific time," the elder Gage responded, "the nurse may have more details. I'm sure she'd be willing to tell you. They all seem to know my son quite well here."

Roy smiled at that response. "Yeah, they know Johnny quite well around here. How are you doing? Is there anything I can get for you?"

"I'm fine thank you," John said, surprised by the others thoughtfulness. Hadn't Roy told him that John had shared the story of his childhood with him? Roy knew the terrible things he'd done to his son. How could he be so concerned for his well-being? "I'll just sit here with my son; I hope to stay until he wakes up. I'll go back to the motel for the night and be here before they take him to surgery in the morning."

"I'll see if I can check in with him later." Roy said, hoping Johnny would be awake next time.

For several more hours John Sr. sat silently at his son's side. The nurses would check in regularly to make sure he was still resting well. Dinner was brought to the floor and John's was kept warm for him until he woke.

When John started to make subtle movements his father let go of his hand not wanting to do anything to upset his son. When John started to lick his lips the elder man spoke for the first time in hours.

"Is your mouth dry? Would you like some water?"

Before John was awake enough to answer, the cup was near his face and the straw angled toward his mouth. John took a testing sip and then drained half the cup at which point his eyes finally came open. Blinking several times to bring his father into focus Johnny reached up with his good hand to rub his face.

"How long have I been asleep?" he questioned as he turned to the window to see the sun had gone down.

The elder of the two John's looked at his hands letting out a deep breath before he answered, not sugar-coating a thing.

"You've slept all afternoon and had a pretty ugly nightmare. We couldn't wake you up because of the pain meds so they had to give you something a little stronger to get you to settle down before you hurt yourself more." There was a pause as John Sr. hung his head with guilt, and John Jr. thought hard trying to remember his dreams.

"You should push your nurse button and let them know you're awake, they've been keeping your dinner warm for you."

It wasn't hard to see his father was rattled and he was sure by the tone of the conversation that the nightmare must have really shaken him.

"I'm sorry." Johnny said feeling responsible for his father's discomfort.

"Don't," the elder John spoke quickly and sharply but with no anger in his voice, "you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one that gave you that nightmare; I'm not sure what it was all about but you," he blinked hard trying to keep the tears at bay, "you called me Poppy. I haven't heard that from you since you were a boy. You were pleading, telling me to stop and to let you go."

Johnny had the answer he didn't want. For reasons he couldn't understand he had wanted his father to understand that he was still angry with him for what he had done to him but he never wanted him to know how much power those years still had over his life.

"You have those dreams often?" The senior Gage asked as he rolled forward and pressed the button his son hadn't pushed yet.

The younger man's silence told the old man more that he wanted to know but it also helped him to understand his son and the place he was now.

"I'm sorry for that too." The older man spoke before the nurse pushed the door open in response to the call light.

"Sleeping beauty here is finally awake and his stomach is rumbling. I think we better feed it." The Elder man spoke to the friendly nurse, a different one now on shift since John fell asleep.

The nurse ducked back out of the door but returned after a few minutes with a dinner tray. In the short time she was gone the room filled with a strained silence. As soon as she set the tray down on the over the bed table, the Elder Gage moved in to help the younger one get adjusted in bed to better be able to eat. As the nurse and the father worked together to do so they talked of the upcoming surgery in the morning and the need to eat now and then not eat or drink anything after midnight.

When patient and food were in place, the father wheeled his chair in close and started to feed his son. John was slow to take the first few bites but after that he realized his father was just there to help him and that his concern for his son was genuine. That and the food tasted good and he was hungry.

As the younger ate the Father talked.

"I met that young man you're mentoring today. I thanked him for his part in getting your sister out of that arcade safely. He shared a little of his anger with his father." John Sr. stopped talking and feeding for a few seconds hoping for a response from his son, when none came he continued feeding him again.

"I began to realize that where he is emotionally now is about where you were when your Aunt took you with her. He talked about not being able to trust his father and how just being around him made everyone sad. He said he wished you were his father."

There was another period of silence but John kept his son's food coming this time.

"Had a chance to talk with his aunt for a while too. She really seemed to need to get some stuff off her chest. She talked a lot about how she never wanted her brother near his son again. She talked about how he only cared about himself and not the people he should be caring for.

"It was pretty clear that neither of them know I'm the reason you understand and can help young Ryan so much. I don't think they would have talked so freely if they did. I think I'm able to understand both you and your Aunt Rose a lot better now. I think I understand how you feel about me a little better too."

There was a pause in the one-sided conversation as John needed a little help up to the bathroom and to wash up. On the way back to bed John Sr. actually offered his son the chance to sit on his lap and let him wheel him back to bed. The Junior John chose to tough it out for the few steps ahead of him.

Once he was sitting on the bed Johnny turned to his father and started to speak. "Dad, I, I don't know what to say."

The Elder man held up his hand, "I've done a lot of thinking while you've been asleep, if I may there is more I would like to say."

He didn't really give his son a chance to stop him he just moved along. "There are so many things I wish I could turn back the time and do over, beginning with when your mother passed away. I've had to accept that I just didn't have it in me to deal with the situation. That was something I had to do in order to move on with my life and leave the bottle behind me. But knowing what I do now, about your aunt keeping us apart and that it wasn't you that was rejecting me all these years, I wish I could go back to that day you came home. That day I came into your room and found you there.

"I should have spent the time since then apologizing for what I've done to you and not nearly as much effort trying to make you understand why I did the things I did. As important as it was for me to explain those things to you it must have seemed like a bunch of excuses, excuses for the failure that I was in your life."

There was a pause as John Sr. fought to find the words for the feeling he wanted to convey to his son to help him understand. While he thought, he looked at his nervously moving hands. Suddenly he looked up sharply and met his son's eyes with his moisture filled ones.

"I love you John, I know I've been poor at showing you that but I always have. I have been so proud of you for what you've become in spite of me and the things I did to you. These last few days I've also learned more of who you've become and what you mean to all those around you. The line of people and your fellow professionals who have come by to check up on you since you were shot is awe-inspiring and bears testament that you are a good person respected by those you work with, and take care of. What I'm trying to say is that I'm even prouder of you for who you've become."

There was a shaky pause as the senior man fought to find his words. There were so many feelings he wanted to explain to his son, so many new understandings. As much as he hated the idea he began to realize that he wasn't going to be able to explain them all in this one conversation and his mind fought to pick out the most important parts he wanted his son to understand. He tried placing what needed saying in order of importance, along with what his son needed to hear the most.

"I never really expected you to just walk back into my life as if nothing had happened. I've always known it was going to take time and that there were things that would need to be worked out. Hell, I honestly expected that the first thing you would do when you saw me again was knock me flat on my butt, followed with a doubled-up fist to the jaw, not to mention some solid kicks to my ribs while I was down. I felt as if I deserved as much.

"After my short talk with Ryan Clayton, I have a clearer understating of your need to control our reuniting on your terms and by your time-table. I know I've lost your trust and that it needs earning back. I know it's going to take a lot of work on my part to earn it back. I want you to know that I'm willing to give you all the time you want. All the time you deserve. Can we . . . I need to know if there is even the slightest chance of my being in your life again. I'm willing to wait for however long it takes to hold the right to say, son. I just need you to tell me what I need to do to earn that right back."

Johnny sat quietly. He heard the same earnest plea, heard the sincerity, and above all heard the deep pain and longing as before. He gazed into the moist eyes of his father not knowing what he should answer. For some reason he wondered what his mother would say to him at this moment if she were alive. Things were happening to too quickly for him.

The silence became unbearable and he had to speak, "Dad, I don't wanna make this decision now. I need to be able to think clearly."

The door opened and a nurse walked in. "Excuse me Johnny but Captain Stanley is in the waiting room and would like a chance to visit. Is this a good time?"

Johnny looked to his father who sat with head bowed and shoulders slumped.

"Do ya mind letting Cap visit now since he is on duty and can only stay a few minutes?"

John Sr. nodded clearly seeing the deep respect his son held for his captain. Would he ever gain that kind of respect? "Of course," he said, trying to hide his disappointment at his son's reaction. Had he pushed to hard to fast? "Think on what I said. I'll be back tomorrow morning before your surgery.

As the elder wheeled toward the door Johnny softly said, "Make sure you eat something okay? It's been a long day for you. Thanks for staying and watchin' over me. I'll see you tomorrow."

Real hope surged through John Sr. as he made his way toward the elevator.