Ok, here's the next chapter. I had a real quandary over this one as I had over 50 pages and wasn't finished. Sooo after debating (and a consult with Ginger-- Thanks again!) I decided to break it up into two chapters. Here's the first, hope you like it!

Gretchen walked into SICU room #3 pushing a tray loaded with equipment and grinned brightly at the sleepy brown eyes that peered at her. "Rise and shine Buttercup, it's a beautiful day!"

Johnny closed one eye as he angled his head toward the window. He turned back toward the nurse and raised one brow at her. "Looks the same as yesterday." He mumbled.

"Well it's not. It's Sunday, the Lord's Day, the start of a whole new week." Gretchen commented as she pulled the tray along side her patient's bed. Johnny sighed and closed his eyes, "I've already said my morning prayers." he muttered.

Gretchen laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and when he opened his eyes, she smiled softly at him, "I'm sure you have, John Gage." She held his eyes as he blinked in confusion at her. Then she pulled out the BP cuff. "Let's get some info for your chart first, shall we?"

"That chart has too much in it now, I'm sure." He groused then frowned as she stuck a thermometer into his mouth, effectively putting an end to his complaints. She finished gathering his vital signs and marking them down before she finally removed the thermometer. She sighed, "Still not broken 101. 101.4"

Johnny gave a one shoulder shrug. Gretchen removed the towel over the basin and began washing her patient. Johnny closed his eyes, allowing her gentle strokes to soothe him. She carefully washed him, changed his gown and bedding then applied lotion to his wounds just as she had before. Johnny looked up at her as she said, "There. Feel better?" and stood back.

He gave her a half hearted grin. "Yeah, thanks."

She smiled back and patted his face. "Feeling a little scruffy there too, Johnny. How about a shave?"

He nodded. She pulled out a can and shook it. Before long she had foamed his face and then began running a straight razor up and down a leather strap. He eyed her warily. "Ummm, Gretchen? Umm, you do know how to use that, right?"

She laughed, "Liebchen, I was shaving young men's faces before your Daddy was born."

Johnny's expression clearly told her he doubted her words but he didn't pull back as she reached for his face. She smiled, "Relax. No one yet has lost anything vital from my shaving."

"There's always the first time," he mumbled as she wiped the razor clean. But her motions were quick and sure and soon she was wiping his face clean, then reapplying the lotion to the cuts on his face.

She stepped back and smiled at him, "There now. You look better. All spiffyed up and ready to face your day."

He gave her a wan smile and shifted in his bed. She stood there a moment, just looking at him. Mentally she shook her head, concerned over this young man who had wormed his way into her starched khaki heart. His vitals had stabilized but weren't improving. The infection in his hand appeared to be abating, but slowly. And that fever still clung tenaciously to him. Overall, he was not getting worse but he wasn't getting better; he was just existing. And she knew from past experience that wouldn't last much longer. Patients caught in this pattern soon made one turn or another and too many of them made a sudden downward plunge. She smiled at him when he rolled his head her direction, his expression one of curiosity over her scrutiny. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head and she frowned, "John Gage. You need to eat. Do you really want Dr. Brackett to shove yet another tube into you?"

Johnny sighed, knowing it wasn't just an idle threat. He gave her a one armed shrug, then a slow shake of his head. She patted his arm. "Let me go see what I can find for you to eat." And with that she left.

Johnny allowed his eyes to close once more and drifted off. He didn't know how long it had been when he heard his door open once more and another, different but equally cheerful voice greeted him. "I heard there was someone in here that might be wanting some breakfast?"

He turned and smiled, "'Lo Dix. What brings you in on your day off?"

She sat delicately in the chair by his bedside and placed a cool hand on his forehead. A frown flickered across her face at the heat she felt then it disappeared behind a dazzling smile and she brushed his hair off his forehead. "It's such a beautiful day and I was in the mood for a picnic."

Johnny's face held his bewilderment and Dixie laughed at his puzzled expression.

"I decided I wanted to share breakfast with my favorite patient." She pulled up a basket and placed it on her lap. She reached inside and pulled out a disposable pie tin with another taped on top. She placed that on his tray then pulled out a thermos and two cups. Next she pulled out a Tupperware container and silverware.

Johnny watched with undisguised interest. Dixie glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and gave a secretive smile as she undid the pie tins. The smell of food filled the room as she looked at the young paramedic. "Corned beef hash and scrambled eggs—heavy on the bacon crumbles and cheese." She opened the other container and showed him it's contents. "Buckwheat pancakes covered in butter, cream cheese and blueberry preserves." For once she got an nearly full Gage grin and she happily nodded, "I remember, Phoenix, I remember."

She placed a napkin over his chest and picked up the spoon. "What do you want first?"

He looked over the treats before him and said, "Eggs." She obliged and fed him several bites. As he was chewing, she asked, "Want some hash now?" He nodded and she fed him several bites then more eggs. As she raised the spoon back to his mouth, he turned his head. She frowned but he looked at her pleadingly and asked, "Coffee?"

The frown changed into a smile as she poured some of the brew into each cup. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she did. "Ahhhhhh."

Dixie chuckled as she held one cup to his lips. "I know that medical personal run on coffee and I'm sure you haven't had anywhere near your quota."

He swallowed as he shook his head, "Firefighter blood is half plasma—half coffee."

Dixie laughed as she tipped the cup for him again, "That's why the stuff I take from you guys looks funny."

Now it was his turn to chuckle over the light-heartedness of the conversation. She fed him more eggs and hash then caught him looking longingly at the rolled up pancakes. She smiled and picked one up, her smile growing wider as he immediately opened his mouth. She fed the rolled up treat to him, commenting, "I remember the first time I fed these to you. We were having such a hard time getting you to eat. Your doctors were desperate to try anything. My brother loved these pancakes this way and I just had a feeling you'd like them too."

She remembered how she'd walked into the quiet room on the children's ward, noticing as she did each time how different it looked from the other rooms. No anxious parents hovered near the small bed, no toys decorated the bedside, no bright cards sat on the table or hung from the wall wishing the occupant 'get well soon.' She placed the container she carried on the bedside tray of her injured young patient, smiling as the little face turned her way. "Good morning! How are you today, Sweetie?"

No answer, but then she hadn't really expected one. This child hadn't said a word since brought up to the children's ward. "I thought I'd come in here this morning and share something very special with you, alright?" Brown eyes watched her every move as she pulled out several pancakes and laid them on a plate. "These are pancakes. Have you ever had pancakes before? I love these. My mother used to make these for my sister, my brother and I. Do you have any sisters? Or brothers?"

As usual, her charge remained silent but the dark eyes flicked to her face then back to her hands. Next she placed generous pats of butter on the still warm pancakes and smoothed it around until it melted and soaked in. Then she opened a container of cream cheese and began smearing the creamy substance over the pancakes, the heat of them melting the cheese as she spread it. That done she took a spoonful of blueberry preserves and dolloped it in the middle, mixing the fruit into the cheese. The wonderful scent filled the room and she heard a faint growling coming from the bed.

She smiled as she said, "Sounds like someone is hungry." She looked up and stopped. The brown eyes had gone wide, terror in their depths and she could see his respirations had picked up to near panting. She stopped what she was doing and placed gentle hands on the thin shoulders. "What's wrong, sweetie?" Large brown eyes looked into hers; he was clearly frightened. Again his stomach made a sound and his face blanched white. She smiled reassuringly, "It's alright little Phoenix, that's just your tummy telling you it wants food." She raised up a hand, intending to smooth the hair out of his face but froze when he flinched away.

He pulled from her and burrowed back into his blankets, curling his body as tightly into a ball as he could with his injuries. Her heart broke at the sight. She stroked his still visible hair and the general location of his back. "Oh sweetie. There's nothing here for you to ever be afraid of." As if a whispered explanation sounded in her ear, she stopped again. She closed her eyes, willing the tears that filled them not to fall. She resumed her gentle strokes as she crooned, "It's ok. It's ok to be hungry. And it's ok to eat when you are hungry. There's nothing wrong with that. We have plenty of food. Do you understand? Lots and lots of food."

His head turned slowly from the pillows and blanket cover. Brown eyes opened again and peeked at her. She straightened, making sure he was watching her. She picked up one of the pancakes, checked out of the corner of her eyes to see if he still watched her, then threw the entree into the trash can. A gasp and faint noise came from the figure in the bed and he sat up again. Then he looked up at her, his eyes wide. She shrugged, "We have plenty of food." She repeated.

He looked at the trashcan, then her, then cautiously reached for the can. Her heart broke more. She reached for his outstretched hand and he recoiled, wrapping himself back up in his blanket with a cry. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him into her arms, feeling his body shaking. "No, no, my little Phoenix. You haven't done anything wrong. Please, please don't be scared. We only want to help you." Slowly the shivering eased so she sat him up in the bed and reached for another pancake.

Brown eyes watched her carefully as she rolled it up, then took a small bite. She chewed, smacking her lips in exaggerated pleasure, "um, um. um. That is good." She saw the tip of his tongue come out and wet his lips, his eyes on the pancake. She angled the treat toward him, "Here. Now you take some."

Brown eyes flicked from her face, to the treat then back to her face. She pushed the treat against his mouth and insisted, "Go on. You take a bite." Slowly his lips parted and with his eyes still on her, he warily bit off a tiny amount. He chewed for the longest time, as if savoring every morsel, and finally swallowed. She smiled softly at him and nodded. "It's good, isn't it."

He gave a slow guarded nod. She urged him to take another bite but he only looked at her. When he still refused, she took another small bite herself, then offered it to him once more. Again he took a bite and repeated the slow process of savoring the food. She took one more bite then reached for his hand. He warily watched her as she placed the rest of the pancake into his unresisting hand and closed his bandaged fingers firmly around it.

She sat back and shrugged, "I'm finished. You eat the rest." He looked at her, then the pancake in his hand then back at her. She nodded. "Go on. Eat it. It's yours." He slowly raised the treat to his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers as he bit off another piece. When she made no move, he bit off more. This time he chewed and swallowed a bit quicker. She smiled at him and he took another bigger bite and again quickly swallowed it down. When she got up and settled back in her chair and made no other motions toward him, he looked at her, looked at his hand, then back at her, then his hand and suddenly shoved the remainder into his mouth.

Instinct made her want to reach for him, afraid he'd choke, but his past reactions made her believe that if she did, he'd stop eating. After trying so long and for too many unsuccessful days to get him to eat, now that he actually was, she didn't want him to stop until she was sure he was full. So she tamped down on her instincts as he greedily chewed his mouthful and swallowed. Once he was done, she took another pancake and again placed it into his hand. Brown eyes came up to fasten onto hers and never breaking contact, he slowly raised this pancake to his mouth and bit. Again she did nothing and he again wolfed it down.

She continued to place the pancakes into his hand and he continued to inhale each as soon as she showed it was meant for him. Once he'd eaten four of them by himself, she held out a carton of milk. He again drew slightly back as she stuck the tip of the straw between his lips. He merely watched her, his expression one of confusion. Guessing at the problem, she filled the straw with milk and placed her finger on the end to trap it inside. Then she raised it over him and still using that same gentle tone, told him, "Open your mouth."

He blinked at her but did as she requested, his lips trembling slightly showing his fear. She placed the straw inside and released the milk. His eyes never left hers as he closed his mouth and swallowed. His eyebrows raised and his tongue came out to wipe every last drop from his lips. She smiled, "Ah hah, you like milk, huh?" She placed the carton in his hand just like she had the pancakes. At first he was again cautious as he brought the container to his mouth but at her smile and nod of encouragement, he pushed the straw out of the way, placed the pouring spout against his lips and began to thirstily suck the milk down. His eyes closed in obvious pleasure as the cool richness flowed down his throat.

It wasn't long until he had drained the carton, tapping it and shaking it over his mouth to get every last drop. When he reluctantly placed the empty container down, she put another pancake in his hand. He ate it as eagerly as before, his eyes lighting up when she opened another carton of milk and placed it next to the empty one.

She carefully watched him, keeping a bright small on her face and nodding her encouragement each time he looked at her. Mentally she shook her head, saddened by what she'd learned, 'You poor thing. You must be half starved. Now I know why you never touched your food trays. Someone has taught you that you can't eat without permission, even if you are hungry.' She knew hospital policy was to just place the tray in front of the patient and leave, then return to get it after they were done. No wonder the food was hardly touched each time!

"Dix? Can I have more coffee?" Johnny's soft voice brought her back to the present and she quickly obliged him. "Sorry, I was just remembering the first time I fed you these pancakes."

Johnny sighed happily as she fed him another one. "You make the best pancakes, Dix." He said around a mouthful and she had to smile.

"I think you ate 8 of them that first day."

He nodded, "I was hungry."

Dixie laughed as she teased, "Johnny, for as long as I've known you, you've always been hungry." She looked at the man before her, seeing still the little boy from so long ago in different hospital bed.

All too soon, he turned his head when she offered him more food. She frowned. "Johnny? You didn't eat much."

He gave a faint shrug, then looked longingly back at the cup. She placed it once more to his lips. He drank deeply, then sat back with a sigh. "Are you sure you don't want more?" She looked over the remains of the breakfast, disappointed in the amount left. He hadn't eaten anywhere near the normal amount of food he usually did. She knew that even with complete bedrest, his high metabolism still needed fuel.

He shook his head in answer to her question then gave her a lazy grin, "Thanks, Dix. For the breakfast and for feeding me."

"You are quite welcome as always, Phoenix, and it was my pleasure." She sat back in her chair, sipping on her cup as she delicately nibbled a pancake. Johnny stared at the wall, his mouth drawn downward. After several long moments of silence, Dixie asked, "You seen Roy recently?"

Instantly she felt Johnny close up. His eyes dropped to his lap and after several long moments he gave a faint shake of his head. She watched him closely. "Your decision or his?"

Johnny sighed, "Mine. This time."

"Ahhh, I see."

Silence reigned as she sipped her coffee. She tapped his shoulder with his cup but without looking at her he shook his head. She watched him carefully then began, "Johnny. I know things haven't been right between you two for a while."

He gave a faint nod.

"And I know Roy has said he's sorry."

Again another nod.

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't you believe him?"

Nothing.

Then faintly, "Yes. I . . .I do."

She nearly rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Then why isn't your good friend, who would do just about anything for you, here at your side while you're going through this?"

Again silence then, " 'Cause I'm a stubborn motor-mouthed idiot."

Dixie chuckled, "Well, I know that and I know Roy knows that too, but it's never deterred him before."

He didn't move. Dixie sighed, "Johnny. You two are a team. And as a team you work best together. Everyone who knows you two knows that that is the case whether you're at work or not." She shook his arm gently, "You need him, Johnny. And he needs you."

Again there was a long stretch of nothing then he gave a faint nod. Dix watched him a little longer, then pushed again. "So? Tell him Johnny. You know that's all he's waiting for."

He glanced at her, then out the window as he gave a heavy sigh. His eyes drooped tiredly and he tried to suppress a yawn. Taking that for a signal he was finished she gathered the plates and placed them back into the basket. She kissed his forehead and rested her hand on his still too warm cheek as he blinked slowly at her. She smiled and stroked his face, "Sleep now, my little Phoenix."

His lips curled up into a faint smile as his eyes drifted closed and his breathing evened out. She watched him for several long moments then with a sigh, left the room.

Once out of his room, Dixie slowly made her way to the nurse's desk. Gretchen looked up as Dixie leaned against it. "Well?"

Dixie shrugged, "He ate about a third of the eggs and hash and two pancakes. He drank half the coffee."

Gretchen frowned, "Still not eating?"

Dixie shook her head, "Not compared to what I know he can and usually does." She confirmed. "His temp seems up too."

Gretchen nodded, "It was. A little." She shook her head, "Just when it seems we get him headed in the right direction . . ."

Dixie gave a worried nod. "I know. I swear half the grey hairs Miss Clairol hides on my head have that young man's name stamped on them."

Gretchen chortled, "He does get to a person, doesn't he." Dixie looked back toward room #3. "Yes, he does." She took the container with the pancakes in it and gave it to Gretchen. "Here, either save them for him for later or eat them yourselves. I guess I'll head on out, I've got some things I need to do."

Gretchen smiled soothingly at her friend, "Don't worry, Army. I'm keeping watch."

Dixie returned her friend's smile. "I know." With that she left. Gretchen charted the information Dixie had told her then set about preparing the next dose of medications. She saw to each of the other patients, taking and recording vitals, doing bandage checks and changes, etc. Once they had all been administered to except Room #3 she headed off in that direction. She pushed the door open and peered at her charge. Johnny was sleeping, his face turned toward the door, the sunlight streaming in the window illuminating him. She quickly set about getting vitals and when she pushed the thermometer between his lips, she was rewarded by sleepy brown eyes.

"Just a vitals check, Johnny." She told him as she fastened the BP cuff around his arm. Once she had taken and recorded all his vitals, she set about changing his dressings. All throughout her ministrations, brown eyes stared at the far wall and he never spoke. Once she was finished, she stepped back and looked him over. 'He looks so sad.' She thought. "Johnny? Johnny look at me please."

Brown eyes slowly blinked and then gradually turned from the wall to look at her. Gretchen smiled softly at him. "Is there anything else I can get you? Some juice? More water? Anything?"

He stared at her for several heartbeats, then faintly shook his head, his gaze dropping back to his lap.

"All right." She said and stepped back then stopped, staring at him once more. She sighed heavily and turned away.

Johnny looked up just as Gretchen neared the door, "Gretchen?" The sound of his voice was so soft, Gretchen nearly didn't hear it. She turned and found a pair of watery soul-filled brown eyes looking at her. Her heart twisted at the sight of such desire and hope mixed with the blatant despair in those coffee shaded eyes. "If . . .if . . .ummm, if Roy. If he . . . If you happen . . . to see him . . . ." The voice broke off in a heavy sigh and Johnny turned his gaze back down into his lap again.

"Liebchen, look at me." She made her voice strong and commanding. Conditioned to obey voices of command, Johnny raised his head again. She smiled to soften the order. "Didn't he tell you that he'd be waiting? That all you had to do was tell him?"

Johnny nodded and sighed again, "Yeah. He did. But I think I might have blown it." He gave a weak shrug, then closed his eyes and settled back into the pillows.

Gretchen stood there for a moment, watching him then softly said, "Don't be so quick to believe that, Johnny."

No further movement came from the figure in the bed.

Now Gretchen sighed, "If I see him, I'll tell him you were asking." She said and when he made no acknowledgement, she closed the door, leaving a forlorn man very alone in the brightly lit room.

Gretchen glanced up at the clock. It was almost time for shift change and she had one last round of medicines to deliver. She'd checked on Johnny several times and each time, he remained the same; eyes down or staring at the wall, and silent. She had just finished her charting and measuring out the last dosages of medicines when a familiar voice greeted her. "'Lo Gretchen, how's everything tonight?"

Gretchen looked up and her blue eyes pierced straight into lighter blue eyes. Roy felt his heart miss a few beats at her penetrating gaze. "Ummm, Gretchen? Is everything ok?" Fear clutched his insides with a ice cold grip and he gasped out, "Johnny . .. is Johnny …?"

"He's tired. He's scared. And he's feeling mighty alone right now." Gretchen cataloged without much emotion in her voice.

Roy closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He was glad to hear that Johnny wasn't worse but the thought of his friend as Gretchen had described hurt too. "I know. But he said . . ."

"He knows what he said. And he knows you've been holding to it. He also knows it's been you who has been bringing in the food, even if he barely eats now." Gretchen broke in, her voice still hard.

Roy nodded, dropping his gaze to his shoes. "So. He's still mad. Does he still think I'm just checking up on him?"

Silence.

Roy raised his eyes to find Gretchen still pinning him with that blue stare. Then she gave him a faint smile. "Roy. He's asking."

At first Roy frowned at her, his head tilting slightly in confusion at her words. Then his eyes widened and she saw the flame of hope leap in them as the young man drew himself up taller. A smile crept hesitantly onto his face. "He . . he's asking? For me?" The words were timid, like a frightened rabbit creeping out of its safe burrow for the first time.

She nodded. Stronger now, he asked again, "He asked you. For me. He asked."

Again she nodded as the smile blossomed fully across Roy's face, lighting a fire in his eyes that had been missing for days. "Yes, Roy. He asked for me to tell you when you came in that he's ready."

"He said that? That he's ready now? He said that to you?" Roy declared.

Gretchen chuckled as she gave a shrug. "Well. Not in those exact words." She chuckled again at Roy's confused look. "He sorta stuttered it out. Halfway." She admitted. "You know how he does."

Roy's grin grew. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I know exactly how he does." He said fondly. He looked toward the door and Gretchen pushed the sack he'd placed on the nurse's station ledge back toward him. "He's probably hungry. He didn't eat much breakfast or lunch and I've been too busy today to try to get him a snack."

Roy took the bag and took two steps toward the door. He stopped and turned back toward the head nurse. She frowned at him and made a dismissing motion with her hand, "Well? Go on! I've got other patients to take care off. Can't be spending all my time and efforts on just one. . ." She continued to grumble as she put her head back down and scribbled something on the chart in front of her.

Roy smiled broadly, hefted the sack and strode briskly toward Room #3. Gretchen watched him carefully without lifting her head, a smile on her lips.

In front of the closed door, Roy stopped again, took a deep breath, then pushed it open. As the light from the hallway spilled into the room, Roy found himself eager for the first sight of his friend.

Johnny looked just like he had when Roy last saw him three days ago. Dark tousled hair a stark contrast to a still pale and gaunt face, eyes closed, arms still stretched out from his sides and captured firmly in the braces. Roy stood there for several moments just looking at him, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep and more than a little nervous over what his greeting would be. Finally he softly spoke. "Johnny?"

Silence.

Roy bit his lip. Maybe Gretchen was wrong. Maybe she'd misunderstood. Johnny didn't want him back. He was still angry as he had every right to be. But that hope in his chest refused to die. And it was from that hope that his next words came, "Johnny. If you want me . . ."

More silence. Roy dropped his head and sighed mightily. His hand reached for the door to pull it closed and froze as a soft voice came from the bed. "My father lost his right hand."

Roy looked over at the bed but there was no movement, nothing to show the occupant had moved or spoke or anything. "Johnny?" He questioned.

"It was while he was still in the Army. Well, not his whole hand but most of it. Did I ever tell you about that?"

Roy took a deep slow breath as the hope surged within him. "No. No I don't think you did." He moved further into the room as Johnny continued.

"Yeah. He was in the Army when he first met my mom. She worked in a diner outside the base. Some place in Texas I guess. They lived at a few bases after that, including here in California then moved back to Texas." A faint grin spread across his face, "I was born there. On that base, I mean, in Texas. It was a Field Artillery unit." He gave a smirk, his eyes still closed. "Yeah. I know. Funny huh? My father, the Indian, was in the Calvary."

Roy shifted uncomfortably. Johnny turned his head and opened his eyes. Brown eyes met blue eyes and for several agonizingly long heartbeats the two stayed that way. Finally Johnny spoke, "Roy . . ."

Roy shook his head, "Don't Johnny. You don't have to say a thing."

More silent communication, then Johnny took a deep breath and held it for so long Roy watched him a little worried, but finally he let it out in a mighty sigh. He shifted his body, turning slightly toward Roy. His shoulder twitched as if he were trying to reach for his friend. His brows drew downward into a frown and instinctively Roy's hand came forward, his hand resting on Johnny's shoulder. The frown eased from Johnny's face and he settled back again.

Roy nodded as he blinked rapidly, frowning at the sudden blurriness in his vision. He stared out the window until he could see clearly again. The long silence drew out before them and Roy looked over at Johnny. Johnny's eyes had closed again and Roy thought maybe he'd drifted off. He jumped slightly when Johnny's soft voice startled him.

"He was a medic, a corpsman with the Army."

Roy perked up, "Really? So he was a 68whiskey?"

Johnny frowned and blinked his eyes back open, "Yeah. He was. Weird, huh. I'd kinda forgotten that until just now." He gave Roy a weak grin, "I guess it's in the blood too, huh? Being a medic, I mean."

Roy smiled and gently flexed the hand on his friend's shoulder, "You'll be back at it again, Johnny."

Johnny sighed and gave a small nod, "I hope to." He whispered. Roy tightened his grip and Johnny looked up at him. Roy smiled, "I know you will." He said with all the confidence he could muster. Johnny's brown eyes stared into his for several long moments then he smiled the first real full smile Roy had seen on his face in a long time. "Thank you Roy."

Roy gave him a puzzled look, "What for?"

"For still believing in me."

Roy felt his heart wrench again, "Junior, I've always believed in you."

Johnny tilted his head and looked at him askew from the corner of his eyes. "Rooooyyyyy?"

Roy could hear the cynicism in his voice and chuckled, "Yeah. Even then. I might have been spouting off a bunch of crap, but inside, I knew it was all wrong."

Johnny gave snort as he shifted again in the bed.

"You were going to tell me about your dad?" Roy encouraged him, holding his breath a little himself. In the years he'd known Johnny he could count on both hands the number of times Johnny had ever volunteered information about his own childhood. Roy knew both Johnny's parents were dead; his mother when she attempted to cross a flooded stream and the water caught and carried away her car. The memory had haunted his partner at each rescue of a car in a flood. Roy knew his father had died some time later, leaving a young Johnny in the custody of a sickly grandfather. Roy was more than ready to accept this admission of Johnny's past as the peace offering he knew it to be.

"Yeah. He was attached to an artillery unit as their corpsman." He began the story he'd heard many times as a child. "Then one day, while they were out practicing live fire maneuvers . . ."

TBC….