3 A.M

Roy parked the car in front of the apartment building. He looked over at his passenger and sighed heavily. Johnny had been through quite a lot lately. Ever since the promotion that split up their team. Roy couldn't pass up the opportunity of a Captain's position. Sure, he missed being one half of the best paramedic team in the county, not to mention the comaraderie of the men he'd forged friendships with at Station 51. But he had to think of the financial and career gains he'd have by taking Station 14's post. While Johnny had been outwardly supportive and happy about the promotion, Roy knew that Johnny was disappointed. It wasn't too often that two people thrown together as paramedic partners melded as well as they had. The proof came over the next several of months as Johnny was paired with different paramedics until the County hired someone on a permanent basis. Roy recalled many a late night phone call from Johnny, begging him to come back, though not in those words.

The worst of course had come when Craig Brice had a two week stint as Johnny's partner. Then, finally, it happened. The County found their new paramedic. Bob Morgewicz had been a volunteer firefighter/paramedic in New York. After moving to California and taking the civil service exams for the County last year, he'd finally been hired. Johnny called Roy after their first call together, ecstatic that 'County had finally gotten their asses in gear.' That was two months ago.

Roy now recalled more recent events. Listening to the County radio. Hearing Hank Stanley's worried voice calling in the Code I. Listening to Johnny's stressed and cracking voice as he called in Bob's vitals to Rampart. Getting the phone call from Chet, hearing how Johnny had refused treatment for his own injuries and ran out of the ER when Dr. Brackett gave them and Bob's wife, Mary, the news of Bob's death.

He'd called the Chief and requested the rest of his own shift off. No sooner had he gotten off the phone with the Chief, and they'd gotten a call. It was hard to pay attention to his own men and their task, knowing that his best friend was in self destruct mode. Roy was relieved to find John Dyer, Station14's C-Shift Captain, waiting for him when his crew arrived back at the firehouse. The Chief had called John and told him what had happened. John gladly volunteered to relieve Roy.

So, by the time he arrived at the Second Alarm, it was closing time. Roy found Hank on the floor next to Johnny, getting ready to take him home. Roy looked at Johnny again. He still had some of Bob's blood on his clothes. Mixed in with some of his own, Roy noticed. Chet had told him that Johnny had been hit with some of the bricks, too. And then scraped his hands almost raw trying to unbury Bob.

Roy got out of the car and went to the passenger side. He opened the door, ready to catch Johnny's drunken form before he fell out. 'Good thing for seatbelts,' Roy thought, as Johnny's held him in the car. Roy unlatched the belt and grabbed Johnny around his waist and pulled, looping his limp arm around his shoulder. Roy was almost tempted to just drive him back to Rampart, but decided that Johnny would probably wake up in a better mood if he was home.

Roy managed to get him into the apartment and guided him to the bedroom. Johnny was cooperative when Roy took his soiled clothes off, too drunk to resist. Roy heard Johnny mumbling incoherently, a few recognized names and words coming out. But Roy understood the torment behind those words. Johnny was remembering the accident. Roy got a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned Johnny up. He found lots of bruises and several cuts, but none of them serious. He bandaged a few of them. Finally, after pulling the blankets over him, Roy turned out the light, saying "Goodnight, partner," before heading to the living room and Johnny's lumpy couch.

Roy woke up about an hour later. He saw the bathroom light on and went to check on Johnny. He found him kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up. He went to his friend and put a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it lightly. Johnny looked up, startled.

"Roy?" he asked, confused.

Roy realized that Johnny probably didn't even remember being taken home.

"Hey, Johnny," he replied.

Johnny sat back heavily, leaning against the cool tiled wall. He wiped his mouth with the washcloth Roy handed him. He couldn't look at Roy, though. Images of Bob's bloody face came to mind. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to them, trying to push the images away. Only now, Bob's voice tormented him, too. Bob's raspy voice, begging Johnny to get him out from under the bricks. Johnny's body betrayed him and he began shaking, crying.

"Oh, God!" he cried out, amidst the wracking sobs.

Roy crawled over and sat next to him. He pulled Johnny to him and held him, letting Johnny cry freely, even allowing his own tears to finally fall as Johnny clung to him.

When Johnny finally calmed, Roy sat him up and stood. "Come on, let's get you back to bed," he said, offering him his hand.

Johnny took it, allowing Roy to guide him back to the bedroom. Once tucked in again, Johnny looked at his friend. "Roy?" he called, tentatively.

"Yeah, Johnny," Roy replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Roy could see that Johnny wanted to tell him something, needed to. But the words never came. Roy saw him fighting back the tears and the memories. Finally, Roy put a reassuring hand on Johnny's shoulder. "In time, Johnny," he said. "When you're ready, I'll be here."

"Thanks, Roy," Johnny responded.