Author's Note: We've almost reached the finish line! After this chapter, there will be an epilogue, and then I will mark this story complete. Those who are new to my stories can continue with The Gift, which takes place some months after this one and introduces Roy and JoAnne's new baby.

Thank you as always to my extraordinary beta readers, katbybee and Piscean6724, and to all who have been reading and/or reviewing. I appreciate you all! It's so much fun to visit the stats page and see where my readers are located. Guest, I understand you wanting to see Shawna and John together. Shawna definitely needs a good guy like Johnny in her life. Marbo, I hope you aren't too disappointed in the way things go with Shawna's parents. It's not exactly what I was expecting when I started writing, but her father is one of those obstinate characters who refuses to cooperate with the writer's intentions. I'm also thankful for Nurse Carol. I watched an episode with her recently, and I was really impressed with her professionalism and her compassion, so I had to write her into this story.

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Chet hesitated at the door of Johnny's hospital room. He'd spent a lot of time hanging out in the waiting room over the last few days but hadn't actually visited Johnny yet. He hoped Johnny couldn't remember what happened outside the station — it would completely ruin his reputation if his Pigeon realized how much Chet actually cared.

"Hey, Johnny," he finally crowed as he strutted through the doorway. "The Phantom sent me with a question for you. He wants to know… is it really true that blonds have more fun?"

When Johnny's forehead wrinkled with apparent confusion, it suddenly struck Chet that no one had told him about his hair. "You mean you don't even know, Pal?"

Johnny just shrugged, his eyes narrowing.

Chet pulled a small leather case containing a comb and a mirror from his pocket, opened it, and handed it to Johnny. "There, see?"

When Johnny looked in the mirror, his eyes went wide and he spluttered, but no sound came out.

"Ya know, I could get used to this silent thing you've got goin', babe." Chet thrust a package wrapped in the Sunday funny papers at his friend. "Here, brought ya somethin'. Thought you might like it."

Johnny rolled his eyes. His mouth dropped open and he jabbed a finger in the air, but Chet held up a hand to stave off an attempted rant. "I know, I know, go play on the freeway, Chester B. Ya don't have to say it. Now are you gonna open that or not?"

When Johnny just scrutinized the package suspiciously, it was Chet's turn to roll his eyes. "It ain't booby trapped if that's what you're worried about. Man, set a few water cannons and you're branded for life."

At last, Johnny ripped through the panels of Family Circus and Fred Bassett and Blondie to reveal a black knit stocking cap. He quickly pulled it on over his hair and offered Chet a half smile. "Thanks," he mouthed.

Chet hung out a little longer and threw a few more jabs before taking his leave, satisfied that he had managed to raise his Pigeon's spirits at least a little, just by riling him up.

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"Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, my name is Kelly Brackett. I'm the head of the Emergency Department here at Rampart." Kel leaned forward in his seat, his hands folded together on his desk, studying Shawna Taylor's parents. Her mother's salt-and-pepper hair hung straight and limp to her shoulders. Her face was creased with wrinkles, and her swollen, bloodshot eyes were moist around the edges. She seemed hesitant to make eye contact, but mostly looked out the window as her hands tugged and twisted at a handkerchief. Mr. Taylor, a wiry, muscular man with hard green eyes, brown hair, and an impatient air, seemed well-versed in looking at the world down his nose. Kel cleared his throat, then continued. "I took care of your daughter when she was first brought in. I'd like you to meet Dr. Arnold Reed, who is working with her now."

Mr. Taylor's brow furrowed. "Head of Emergency," he snapped, gesturing to Kel, and then to Reed. "And just who are you, Dr. Reed?"

"I'm the head of the Psychiatric De —"

Taylor barked out a disdainful laugh. "A shrink? My daughter doesn't need a shrink. She needs discipline. Good, old-fashioned discipline." He folded his arms over his chest. "Problem is, she needed it years ago, when she was still under our roof." He turned to his wife, his tone hardening. "This is all your fault, Helen. 'Give her another chance,' you said. 'She just needs love.'"

Kel frowned as he watched Helen Taylor cower back from her bully of a husband. "Now, just hold on a minute here." Dixie's old warning thrummed in the back of his mind — be charming, diplomatic, and warm. He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath as he worked to temper his anger. "There's no need to cast blame here, Mr. Taylor. I think we all want the same thing for Shawna."

Taylor stood and cracked his knuckles. "As far as I'm concerned, Shawna has burned her bridges. I didn't even want to come here, but Helen wouldn't stop whining about it." He picked up his suit coat and folded it over his arm, then looked at his wife. "Come on, let's go. I want to get the next flight out. You've wasted enough of my time and money — first on sending that ridiculous bouquet and then pulling me away from my conference to come here."

Helen Taylor pulled her purse into her lap but she didn't stand. As Kel watched, she closed her eyes and narrowed her shoulders, as if readying for a blow. Her face hardened, though, and Kel had a feeling she had finally summoned her courage. "You leave if you want to, Kevin," she hissed through clenched teeth. "But Shawna needs me. I'm staying."

When Taylor grabbed his wife by the arm, Kel got to his feet. He felt Reed's hand plucking at his elbow to pull him back, but he didn't care at this point. Some people were immune to charm, diplomacy, and warmth. He strode around the desk and stood over Taylor, who was a good six inches shorter than Kel. "I suggest you let go of her now, sir," he growled, "before Dr. Reed calls Security."

"I'll do with my wife as I see fit," Taylor spat out, but he let go of her arm and backed away. "Fine, Helen. Do what you want. But if you stay, don't come crawling home."

Helen remained seated, her body rigid. Brackett put a hand on her back, hoping she would take comfort from a kind touch.

"Fine," Taylor snapped. "You've made your choice. Live with it. I wash my hands of you both." Then he strode out of the office without a backward look.

Kel felt the tension drain out of Shawna's mother. He turned and stooped down so he could look her in the eyes. "Are you all right, Mrs. Taylor?"

Using her handkerchief, she blotted the tears from her cheeks. "I… I'm not sure. I've never directly defied him before. I mean… sometimes I can coax him into letting me do things my way, but when he lays down the law… well…" Her voice drifted off. "Oh," she said distantly after a pause. "I'm not sure what I'll do… he checked us out of the hotel already and, well, I don't have any money."

"No need to worry about that. We'll make sure you're well cared for." Kel returned to his seat next to Reed. "Now, let's talk about Shawna, and then Dr. Reed will take you up to visit her."

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Roy was back on duty for the first time since the ill-fated zoo trip, so Johnny was alone in his room when JoAnne brought Megan for a visit, on special dispensation from Dr. Early, as children her age were not usually allowed to visit patients. Jo peeked around the door frame before entering the room, and the sight that greeted her made her blink back tears. Johnny looked miserable. He was so skinny, she thought a light breeze might blow him away. His eyes, usually dancing with merriment or flashing with indignation, looked hollow. He wore a stocking cap pulled way down so that it completely hid his hair. His gaze was fastened on the television, but Jo had a feeling he wasn't really seeing the images on the screen. She knelt and whispered to Megan, who clung tightly to her hand. "Honey, Uncle Johnny's awful sad, but seeing you should cheer him up. Just remember, he can't talk right now because his mouth hurts."

Megan nodded, then tugged Jo into the room. "Hi, Unca Johnny!" she chirped. "What's up?"

JoAnne watched, marveling at her child. There had been some hard moments over the last few days since Megan came home. Megan remembered little of her ordeal, but she'd been having nightmares and had started wetting the bed again, and she wanted her Mommy or Daddy with her all the time. But during the day, at least, as long as Jo or Roy stayed close, she was the same bright, happy child everybody loved. The child psychologist they'd visited had recommended letting Megan lead the way in her recovery for a while at least, instead of pushing her immediately into situations that made her uncomfortable, and Jo was content with that. So what if it took a while to get her back to preschool? Jo felt better right now keeping her home.

Megan's greeting brought about an instantaneous change in Johnny's aspect. Dull eyes brightened and he actually mustered a smile. He held out his arms, and Megan burst away from her mother and scrambled up onto the bed. Unable to grab her in time, Jo held her breath until she was sure her daughter hadn't dislodged Johnny's IV tubing. Johnny hugged her close and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. Then he looked up at Jo and mouthed the words, "Thank you."

Jo set her bag on the floor and took a seat. "No, Johnny," she said softly. "Thank you." She reached to pat on his arm. "I'm so sorry about everything that happened, but I'm grateful Megan had you watching over her."

With a bashful shrug, Johnny looked away, focusing his attention on Megan. She was pressed against him, one small hand stroking his cheek, the other firmly grasping his hand. She lay her head against his side and yawned, and then her eyelids began to droop.

Jo smiled. "We were out shopping, and I was going to take her home for a nap, but she insisted on a visit to you first."

Johnny nodded and he stroked Megan's hair, still not meeting Jo's eyes. Jo gently grasped his chin and raised it so he had to face her. Then her free hand moved to his head and she peeled off the stocking cap, wincing at the brittle mess that greeted her. "I think I can help you with this, if you want me to."

He nodded, eyes sparking with curiosity.

She pulled out a pair of electric clippers and lay them on the swivel table, then set next to them an array of hair products, including conditioner and hair dye. "We'll have to cut away the worst of it, then we can dye what's left back to your natural color. I could do it for you now, but my friend Carla is a hair stylist and she says she'll come anytime you like and do a professional job for you."

Johnny's eyes got really wide at that and he shook his head. Jo's heart went out to him. She'd never seen him so terrified by the idea of meeting a girl. She lay a palm on his cheek and held it there a moment. "Hey, it's OK. I know how to do it. It won't look quite as nice as if Carla took care of it, but it will do you till it grows out."

Johnny pointed at Jo, then pushed the clippers toward her. JoAnne's heart warmed at the slight smile that brightened his face. "All right, then, let's get started."

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"Oh, Shawna, honey."

It was the last voice Shawna had expected to hear. Yesterday, she hadn't expected to hear any voice ever again, of course. When she woke up in a new hospital room, her wrist bandaged and soft restraints preventing her from making a second attempt, she had been angry at first. Ignoring the strict vocal rest she was supposed to observe, she had screamed until her throat was raw and all her monitors were beeping and a nurse came running in to sedate her. When she woke up again, Nurse Dixie was sitting at her bedside, reading a book. She said she was off-duty and had decided that Shawna needed to wake up to a friendly face. She also said that Mama and Dad were coming, but Shawna hadn't believed it.

But now, suddenly, Mama was here and she was crying and stroking Shawna's hair and crooning over her the way she used to do when Shawna was a little girl. Shawna had longed for and dreaded this moment all at the same time. "Ma —" she rasped, but Mama cut her off.

"Don't try to talk, honey. You'll just make it worse." Mama dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Shawna's eyes darted around the room, her stomach churning — wherever Mama was, Dad was bound to make an appearance, and he wouldn't be doting or crooning. She braced herself for the inevitable lecture.

It didn't come. Finally, she turned questioning eyes to her mother. She wished she could write on her notepad.

But Mama understood somehow. "He's not here, honey. He wanted me to go home with him, but I… I said no. I knew you needed me… and… well… I needed to be with you."

Shawna gasped. Her mousy, timid mother had somehow found the courage to defy her father. What's more, Mama had done it for her. Shawna's heart warmed at the thought and tears sprung to her eyes as a sense of relief swept through her. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be really and truly loved, and she was suddenly thankful to be alive to feel it. She just hoped she wouldn't wake up and find it had all been a fleeting dream.

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Two Weeks Later

Johnny scrunched his eyes shut and focused all his concentration on his right foot. All day long, he'd felt a pins-and-needles sensation in his feet and legs. Under normal circumstances, he would have found it annoying, but right now, anything was better than the dead nothing he'd felt below the waist since he woke up two weeks ago. What's more, when Joe Early tested his sensation, Johnny had actually felt the poke to the bottom of each foot. Come on, MOVE! he told his toes. A minute later, Roy cheered and Dr. Early chuckled. Johnny's eyes flew open.

"You did it, Junior!" Roy's grin was a mile wide.

"Try the left foot now, Johnny," Dr. Early instructed.

Again, Johnny scrunched his eyes and focused. "There… I think I did it. Did I?" His voice was hoarse, but the painful lesions in his mouth and throat had healed, and he was grateful he could talk again. He opened his eyes and looked to Joe Early.

The doctor's grin was answer enough. "You're looking good, Johnny. Now, as you already know, I can't promise that you will get full function back, but this is a very good sign. I think you're ready for a change of scenery."

"Home?" He knew it wasn't really feasible, but he just wanted to get back to his own bed in his own apartment.

"And how do you think you'll manage that?" Roy asked, his eyebrows quirking upwards. "You live in a third-floor walk up."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Johnny sighed, his good mood rapidly disintegrating.

Joe Early made a notation on Johnny's chart and then closed it. "I was thinking more like a move to the rehab wing here at Rampart. They have an excellent program designed for injuries like yours. If you have a chance of a full recovery, they'll make it happen."

"Rehab it is, then," Johnny sighed. He would do whatever it took to get back to his life, but spending his upcoming birthday stuck in a rehab facility was a depressing prospect.

"Excellent. Because I've already made the arrangements. They have a bed opening up on Friday." Dr. Early shot a glance at Roy, then looked back to Johnny. "But I'm afraid you'll have to give up this room tomorrow morning."

"Well, where am I supposed to go?!" Johnny's fingers splayed across his chest and he was just about to start into a rant when Roy put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hang on, there, Junior. Don't tax your voice. We've got it all worked out."

"All worked out?! Whaddaya mean by that, Roy? I can't go home and I can't start rehab till Friday and they're kicking me out of here! What am I supposed to do?"

Joe Early's lips twitched like he was trying to hide a smile. "Roy, I guess you'd better tell him."

"Yeah, Roy… I guess you'd better tell me. What have you two got cooked up anyway?"

"No one is kicking you out," Roy huffed. "We just thought you needed a break from the hospital, and you're in good enough shape that it's safe to do it. You're coming to my house to stay a few nights. We'll celebrate your birthday Thursday and bring you back Friday morning."

"Oh." Johnny considered Roy's words for a moment, then nodded his approval. "Well, I guess that's OK then. Do ya think Jo'll make her famous pot roast with potatoes and carrots?"

Roy chuckled. "She's already stocked the fridge."

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August in Southern California could be a real scorcher, but with temperatures in the upper seventies, Johnny's birthday was just about perfect. Johnny and Roy sat on the DeSotos' back deck, enjoying the day. Each man was drinking an ice-cold A&W root beer — alcohol was off limits for Johnny because of his meds. Chris was wandering around the yard, a Frisbee dangling from one hand, and Megan was perched on Johnny's lap, brushing her dolly's hair. From inside the kitchen, the aroma of Jo's pot roast drifted out through the open window.

Johnny had nixed the idea of a backyard cookout with all of A-Shift, preferring a quiet dinner with his best friend's family. His friends had been dropping in throughout the day, bearing cards and gifts and spending a little time talking and offering their good wishes. All in all, it had been a pleasant, peaceful day.

Three days away from the hospital had done Johnny a world of good. With all Jo's good cooking, he had made a good start at putting some meat back on his bones, and time spent with the kids was a balm to his spirit. He wasn't looking forward to leaving for rehab, but an outpatient program was out of the question — he wasn't about to ask Jo or Roy to commit to the level of care he would require until he was back on his feet.

He leaned his head down and spoke softly to Megan. "Hey, Princess, Chris looks awful lonely out there. You wanna go play with him?"

She pivoted on his lap to watch Chris for a moment, then nodded her head. "You hold Kimmy?" she asked, handing her dolly over.

Johnny took the doll and cradled it to his chest. "I'll take real good care of her, sweetheart."

Megan slid down from his lap and ventured into the yard, stopping at the top of the steps to turn around and shake her finger at the two men. "You won't go 'way, right?"

"Scout's honor." Johnny held up his hand in a scout salute, and Roy followed suit. Satisfied, Megan scurried down the steps and ran to play with her brother.

"Now, that's the first time she's dared get more 'n six feet away from Jo or me since it happened," Roy observed.

Johnny nodded slowly. "Give her time. She'll get there." He set Megan's dolly down on the table next to him.

"Yeah, I know. You've been good for her — it'll be hard when you leave tomorrow." Roy took a swig of his root beer.

Johnny took a sip as well. "She's been good for me, too. You'll have to bring her to visit me."

"We will." Roy set his bottle down and shifted in his seat. "Johnny, I…" His voice trailed off and he reached for his root beer again.

Johnny turned his wheelchair so that he was facing his friend. He was pretty sure he knew what was going through Roy's mind. From the night they had watched the baseball game together, Roy had been there for him, a steadfast support, and yet Johnny had felt the tension between them, an undercurrent of awkwardness that had never been there before. But Roy hadn't spoken of it, even when Johnny tried bringing it up. "You might as well spit it out, Pal. We can't really get past it if you don't."

"It's nothin'... it's just…"

"Just say it, Roy." Johnny kept his voice low so the kids wouldn't hear. "It's been eatin' at you ever since it happened. I put Megan in danger."

"It isn't eating at me," Roy said sharply. "Not now. It never should've. It wasn't your fault. I know that. Yes, for a while, I blamed you. But it was all Guinness and he's gone and I can't get any satisfaction out of him."

Johnny rubbed at his arm where he still bore the scars of the drug injections that had been forced on him. "And Shawna Taylor ended up doing the right thing in the end and you can't be mad at her. I get that… I tried to be mad at her, but when I think of Megan, well… I'm too grateful to be mad. I'd like a chance to tell her so — they wouldn't let me visit her before she was discharged."

"Yeah, me neither." Roy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze focused on the almost-empty root beer bottle he was rolling back and forth between his palms. "I guess I've been mad at myself more 'n anyone," he admitted. "When you and Megan were missin', I… well… I became someone I really didn't like. Stormin' around, yellin' at Chris and Jo. And you, even though you weren't there to hear it. Mike had to talk me out of drinkin' myself into oblivion." A wan smile flitted across his features. "Jo and I… we're good now. We had a long talk that first night after we got Megan back. But I guess I needed to talk things out with you, too." He shrugged. "To apologize. I'm sorry, Junior." He looked up, and the hurt in his eyes hit Johnny hard.

"Roy," Johnny said after a long pause, and he reached to lay a hand on Roy's arm. "If what you need to hear is that I forgive you, then I do. But to tell you the truth, there is nothing you need to apologize to me for. I don't blame you for blaming me, Roy. Hell, I still blame myself. I remember it, Roy. I mean, everything's a blur after Shawna started shooting me full of those drugs, but I remember before that. He must've slipped something into my food or drink to make me talk. I knew what he was asking, and I knew I shouldn't say it, but I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I told him everything he wanted to know." He sucked in a long breath and released it slowly. "Roy, if Megan hadn't been there… well… I… I might have tried to find a way to do what Shawna tried. I know I thought about it when he first showed her to me. But I couldn't. Instead, I… I rolled up my sleeve and let Shawna shoot me up. After that…" He shrugged. "All I know is what you and Crockett and the papers have told me. I'm so sorry, Roy. Can you forgive me?"

"It wasn't your fault, John," Roy declared, a fierce edge to his voice. "But yeah, I forgive you. Maybe… well… maybe we both need to forgive ourselves."

"I'll drink to that." Johnny lifted his root beer bottle and clinked it against Roy's. He could feel the awkwardness between them melting away. "We're gonna be fine, Roy. Eddie Guinness tried to destroy us, but he lost, and he's gone." A slow grin spread across his face. "It's like that picture book Chris was showing me last night… the one about the Phoenix, rising from the ashes. That's you and me, Roy, coming outta this mess, stronger and better 'n ever. Whether or not I ever walk again — and I fully intend to — I know you've got my back."

Roy clapped a hand to Johnny's shoulder. "And I know you've got mine, John. It's what we do for each other."