A Painful Reunion
By Polgana
Disclaimer: None of the characters of Emergency! are mine. I may not derive any profit, in any way, shape, or form, monetary or otherwise, from this writing. With the possible exception of our mutual enjoyment.
*******
"Squad 51, child down intersection Alameda and Burke St. Repeat, child down intersection Alameda and Burke. Time out 8:20."
"10-4," Captain Hank Stanley confirmed the summons. "KMG 365." He hurriedly scribbled down the address and handed the sheet to the dark-hired paramedic as he raced for the rescue squad.
Johnny Gage stuffed the scrap of paper into the logbook before securing his seatbelt and donning his helmet. As his partner, Roy DeSoto pulled the bright red truck out of the station, Johnny made sure the road was clear before directing his partner to turn left.
"Man, I hate it when we get called out for kids," Johnny muttered. "You never know what to expect."
"I know what you mean, Junior," Roy sighed. "It could be anything from a sprained ankle to a hit and run, or worse." As the father of two rambunctious children, Roy could envision a host of possibilities, ranging from funny to hilarious on one hand, and frustrating to tragic on the other.
The scene that greeted them upon arrival had all the earmarks of the latter.
A little girl with long, dark hair lay face down in front of a blue sports car. A uniformed officer knelt beside her while another kept a growing crowd back. As he hurriedly grabbed the trauma box and bio-phone, Johnny could hear the second officer asking for the girl's parents.
A young man, apparently the driver of the sports car, was pacing back and forth nervously next to his vehicle. As Johnny set his equipment down next to the child, he could hear the driver's plaintive murmur, "I never saw her! She was just there! Is she gonna be okay?"
"We'll know in a minute," Johnny replied as he gently brushed the hair from the child's face. He grimaced at the sight of the darkening bruise forming just below her hairline on the right, confirming a head injury, but could find no external bleeding. "What do we have, Jeff?" he asked the officer.
"A bunch of kids were skateboarding," officer Jeff Parks reported. "The other kids stopped, she didn't; ran right out in front of Mr. Stanford here. He slammed on his brakes, but couldn't stop in time."
As he listened, Johnny had been gently palpating the child's spine and extremities, checking for breaks or dislocations. He winced as he felt bone grate in her left forearm. He gave his partner a pained look.
"Definite radius and ulna fractures," he murmured. "Let's get a splint and C-collar on her before we turn her over. Anybody know who she is?"
"Her name's Alison," one little boy of about twelve years piped up. "Alison Michaels. But she thinks she's Evel Kneivel. She's always gotta go faster, fly higher than any of us. Dumb girl!" He said the last in a derisive tone, but Johnny was sure he had detected a twinge of envy.
"Sounds like someone else I know," Roy chuckled as he set up the bio-phone.
As soon as the C-collar was in place and the arm immobilized, the two paramedics gently rolled the child onto a backboard, careful to keep her spine straight as they did so. Once she was secure, Johnny quickly set about getting her vital signs.
"Pupil's equal and reactive," he reported. "Pulse is 76, respirations 12 and even. BP is 90/76." Johnny listened to Alison's lungs a moment before nodding to his partner with a look of relief. "Lungs are clear." Letting the stethoscope dangle from his neck, Johnny began gently palpating the girl's ribs, abdomen, and pelvis. "Ribs and pelvis are stable," he was relieved to report, "and there doesn't seem to be any abdominal distension."
Roy quickly relayed this information to Rampart, writing down Dr. Early's instructions for an IV of normal saline, TKO. Because of the head injury, it was unlikely that they would be giving any pain medicine, but the fluids would help allay the threat of shock.
At that moment, a low moan announced the girl's return to consciousness. Johnny leaned over slightly to put himself in her line of sight. He found himself looking into a pair of deep brown eyes.
"Alison," he said in his most soothing voice, not wanting to alarm the child. "Alison, you're gonna be okay, sweetie. My name is Johnny and I'm here to help you. Do you remember what happened?"
"Yeah," the young tomboy grumbled. "I missed my turn and jumped the stupid curb. Can I get up?"
"Not yet," Johnny told her, biting back a chuckle. He couldn't help but grin at her accurate, if acerbic assessment of her accident. "You were knocked down by a car and we need to take you to the hospital to make sure everything's okay. I need you to lie still for me, okay? Let us do all us do all the work."
"Like I've got a choice?" the miniature daredevil snorted.
The ambulance pulled in with lights flashing, as Johnny was finishing his assessment. Less than a minute later Alison's mother pushed her way through the crowd of onlookers. The petite blonde woman took in the scene with a look of alarm, but quickly regained her composure. She quickly identified herself to the officers and knelt close to her daughter's head.
"Alison G. Michaels," she gently chided her daughter, "what am I going to do with you? This is the third time this week you've gotten hurt on that skateboard. And why aren't you wearing your helmet?" She paused in her lecture to look up into the stunned features of the dark-haired paramedic. "She's going to be . . .?" Her voice faded into a near whisper as she finally recognized the man treating her daughter. "John?" she whispered. "John Gage?"
Johnny could only stare at the woman, his startled gaze shifting between her face and the face of the child he was treating.
"Sh-she, um, she's gonna be fine, Ma'am," Johnny stammered, focusing his attention on the IV setup in his hands. "We . . . we need your permission to start an IV on her."
"Of course," the fair-skinned woman replied. "May I ride in with her? No," she murmured thoughtfully. "It might be better if I meet you there. We'll need the car to get home." Turning back to the young girl glowering at them from the backboard, she reached down to brush a sable lock aside, revealing the dark bruise. "You behave, Alison Michaels, or that skateboard is history. Do you understand?" The tremor in her voice belied the harshness of her words.
"Yes, Mom," the dark-eyed beauty replied sullenly. "Can we get this show on the road, already? I'm hungry."
"She's definitely alert to time and place," Roy chuckled as he helped pack up the equipment. He followed Johnny as the younger man helped load the stretcher into the ambulance. To his surprise, Johnny made no move to enter the van with his patient. "Is something wrong, Johnny?" he asked taking in his partner's pallid features.
"N-no," Johnny stammered, not meeting his partner's concerned gaze. "I, ahm, I just . . . Would you mind riding in with h-, w-with Alison? I don't . . . I mean . . ."
Roy placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, puzzled by this sudden change in his partner's demeanor. "Is there a problem I should know about?" he asked in concern.
"No," Johnny replied quickly. "No problem. Just . . . never mind." With that, he jumped into the back of the ambulance and began pulling the doors shut. He paused as Roy grasped the edge of the door, holding it open.
"Are you sure?" the senior paramedic asked softly. "I don't mind."
"Nah," Johnny shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. He was failing miserably. "It's okay. I'll see you at Rampart." With that, he pushed his partner's hand aside and pulled the door shut.
Roy slapped the back of the van, signaling that it was safe to proceed, and stepped back to meet the troubled gaze of Officer Parks.
"What was all that about?" he asked curiously.
"Beats me," Roy shrugged. He turned and began cleaning up their debris. "With Johnny, who knows?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Roy backed the squad into their regular spot in the ambulance bay and hurried to join up with his partner. By this time, he expected to see Johnny leaning on the counter near the base station, filling Dixie McCall in on the details of their run. Instead, he found that neither Dixie nor Johnny were anywhere in sight. Figuring that both were still in with the patient, Roy strode up to the desk, poured himself a cup of coffee, and began making a list of the supplies that they needed to replace.
"There you are."
Roy looked up to find Dixie stepping out of treatment room three. Before the door swung closed, he saw Alison sitting up on the end of the exam table. The young athlete was evidently describing her brush with death in glowing detail, her good arm waving about to illustrate the high lights.
"That's quite a charmer your partner brought us," the head nurse chuckled. "If I didn't know better," she continued, "I'd swear she was just like Johnny at that age. She even has his smile."
"His knack for getting into trouble, too, from what her mom said at the scene," Roy agreed. "Speaking of Johnny, where is he? We need to get back for a drill Cap wants to get in before lunch."
"Last I saw, he was headed for the Doctor's lounge," Dixie shrugged. Her humor faded as she gave Roy a thoughtful look. "Something seems to be bothering him. He barely took the time to give us Alison's history and an update on her vitals before he practically ran from the room."
"Um," Roy nodded. "He was acting kinda strange at the scene, too. Everything was okay, though, until Mrs. Michaels showed up. He was joking around with Alison a little, just to keep her calm. Not that she needed much to calm her down. That kid was . . . damned if she didn't act just like Johnny whenever he's hurt." Roy shook his head with a rueful grin. "Will they keep her overnight?"
"We've already arranged for a room," Dixie nodded. "Along with the broken arm, she has a mild concussion. Otherwise she came out with hardly a scratch."
"That's one lucky kid," Roy murmured. He handed his list to Dixie for her to check off while he gathered the supplies. By the time he was finished, there was still no sign of his partner. Roy looked at his watch, then down the hall towards the Doctor's lounge. "I guess I'd better go find him," he sighed. "If we keep Cap waiting too long, one of us is gonna be scrubbing toilets, and it ain't gonna be me."
Dixie put out a hand to stop Roy before he could take a step. "Go easy on him, Roy," she murmured. "Something is really eating at him right now. If you could've seen his face awhile ago . . ."
Roy just nodded wordlessly as Dixie slid her hand from his arm. Leaving the box of supplies on the counter behind the desk, he went in search of his partner, and best friend.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Johnny was seated on the sofa, a cold cup of coffee in front of him, and both hands covering his face. At the sound of the door opening, he raised his head just enough to peer at Roy over his fingertips. He lowered his hands with a heavy sigh and pushed himself up form the couch.
"Let's go," he murmured dispiritedly as he headed for the door.
"Johnny."
The younger paramedic stopped with one hand on the door. Without turning, he shrugged his narrow shoulders and gave his head a tiny shake. "I'm okay, Roy," he told his best friend. "C'mon, we've got work to do." With that, he snatched the door open and was half way down the hall before Roy could say anything else.
Roy paused only long enough to grab the box of supplies before hurrying in his partner's wake. The two of them made short work of stowing the supplies, a task completed in strained silence, before alerting dispatch of their return to quarters.
The ride back was accomplished in an uncharacteristic silence on Johnny's part. Usually the younger man would have been ranting about the carelessness of kids, reckless drivers, the full moon, or anything else that popped into his mind at any given moment. This time was different and Roy was finding it very disconcerting, as if he were riding with a stranger. He tried several times to draw his partner out, to no avail.
"Just let it go, Roy," Johnny finally murmured in answer to his partner's persistence. "It's all in the past. Nothing anyone can do about it now."
They returned to the station just in time to participate in the drill, which consisted of reviewing the floor plans of a new chemical storage facility on the edge of their district, then proceeding to their assigned chores. Roy helped Marco clean and hang hoses, his mind only half on the job at hand.
"Only one more to go," Marco sighed as he hauled up another section. He quickly had it draped over the racks and sent the hook down for the next one. When several seconds had passed, he looked down to see Roy standing there with one end of the hose in his hands, his eyes fixed on the back of the station where Johnny was dumping a trash bag into the dumpster. Even from that distance, the Latino firefighter could see the slump to the younger man's shoulders, the lack of energy in his walk. Something was eating at the usually buoyant Gage, and it had to have something to do with that last run. "Hey, Roy," he called down, startling his crewmate. "You ready to send that hose up, or do you need a minute?"
Jerking his attention back to the present, Roy readied the hose and watched as Marco pulled it to the top of the hose rack. A few minutes later, the last hose was drying in the warm California sun and the wiry Mexican was on his way down the ladder.
"What's the deal with John?" Marco asked as soon as his feet hit the pavement. "I don't think I've ever seen him this quiet."
"I honestly don't know," Roy replied with a shake of his head. "It was all pretty routine, the kid came out of it with nothing worse than a broken arm and a concussion. She was a handful, too, a real tomboy. From what the other kids were saying, she's always pushing the limit, trying to outdo everybody."
"Must've been all knees and elbows," Marco chuckled.
"Not at all," the blonde paramedic protested. "She's gonna be a heart breaker when she gets a little older. The biggest brown eyes I've ever seen, and a real cute smile, you know, the kind that lights up a whole room. And so gutsy! She never once complained, except to say she was hungry."
"God!" Marco exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "She sounds just like Johnny!"
Both men stopped in their tracks, slowly turning to look at each other.
"You don't think . . ." Marco began.
"Johnny?" Roy snorted. "Not a chance! He'd never . . ."
"But what if he didn't know?" Marco persisted. "There's still a whole lot we don't know about his past."
"Alison's mother had to be ten years older than Johnny!" Roy protested. "No way he'd get mixed up with . . ."
"Maybe she seduced him!" the Hispanic suggested. He grabbed Roy's arm and practically dragged him toward the back door. "C'mon! The only way to know for sure is to ask."
They found Johnny in the dorm, just putting the finishing touches on the last bed to be made. Straightening up from his task, he gave his two crewmates a puzzled look.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"That's what we were wondering," Roy said. "Johnny, it's kind of obvious that something about that run this morning has upset you. Is there anything we can do to help?"
"If there was, Roy," Johnny murmured, "you'd be the first one I'd come to, but there isn't, so please let it drop. Please?" He looked away, letting out a loud sigh as he ran one hand through his thick, dark hair. "Look, I'll be okay. I just need a little time, that's all."
"Gage! Visitor!" Chet Kelly hollered as he poked his head around the door. "Some lady wants to talk to you. Something about her little girl."
No one could miss the look of panic in Johnny's eyes as he raced from the dorm, almost bowling Roy and Marco over in his excitement. Chet just barely made it out of his way.
"What the hell has gotten into him?" the stocky Irishman grumbled. "First he mopes around here like he's just been told his dog died, now he's Ricochet Rabbit! What gives?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Roy shrugged.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Johnny slowed his headlong rush when he was still a few feet from the door to the day room. Nervously running one hand through his hair, he paused to make sure he looked presentable before proceeding onward. Taking a deep breath, he tried to look calm and collected as he strode through the door, unaware of the audience following several steps behind him.
"Mrs. Michaels," Johnny said, as he stepped forward to shake her hand. "How can I help you?"
"I think you can call me Danielle after today," the attractive blonde told him with a hesitant smile. "How have you been, Johnny?"
Her calm demeanor told him that Alison was okay. Johnny felt himself relax just a little at that revelation.
"What brings you here, Mrs. Michaels?" he asked, trying to make his formal use of her name sound casual.
Danielle Michaels looked around at the curious gazes of the other firemen and nodded her head in understanding.
"Is there somewhere that we may talk privately?" she asked.
Johnny spun on his heel, his dark eyes seeking out Captain Hank Stanley with a pleading look.
Hank was momentarily taken aback at the desperation he saw in his youngest crewman's eyes. He couldn't recall ever having seen John look so miserable, even when his friend Drew Burke had died on one of their runs.
"I'm all caught up on my paperwork for once," the lanky captain shrugged. "You can use my office."
"Thanks, Cap," Johnny nodded, flashing his superior a grateful smile that fell far short of his eyes. "This won't take long, I hope."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"What are you doing here?" Johnny hissed as soon as the door was safely closed. "You should be at the hospital with m-your daughter!"
"They had to take Allie to surgery to set her arm," Danielle explained. "She's still sleeping off the anesthesia. John, we need to talk."
"No, we don't," Johnny snapped angrily as he began to pace the confines of the office. "All the talking was done twelve years ago and they made it perfectly clear that I had no say in the matter. You . . . you'd better get back to Rampart. What if she wakes up and no one's there?"
"Her father is there," Danielle murmured.
"Her father is here!" Johnny hissed, tapping himself in the chest, fighting to hold back tears of anger. "Her father is here," he repeated in a tight voice, turning his back on the woman who had raised his child. "I could've raised her on my own if they'd just given me half a chance. But they told me it was for the best. That Celeste couldn't survive the pregnancy if I didn't agree to give her up, if I kept . . . kept fighting with her about it."
"I know," Danielle sighed, stepping up to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The doctor told us everything, about how you dropped out of college to find a job, how you turned your back on a promising career to work in construction so that you could start building a life for your family. He also told us how very much you wanted your child. He wanted us to understand the sacrifices you were making in not contesting the adoption."
"He didn't know the half of it," Johnny sighed, dropping into one of the chairs as if his legs were about to give out. He waved a hand, indicating for his guest to have a seat also. "I felt that Celeste was The One, you know? My last chance at . . . something I'd always prayed for; a home, family, and the same kinda life any man dreams of. When she told me she was pregnant, I was . . . I wanted to fall down on my knees and thank God for letting the two of us find each other! Then she . . . she said she was gonna give it up. That she didn't want the baby! Our baby! She wanted to just . . . just give her up like a stray pup!"
Unable to contain his anguish, Johnny leaped to his feet and began pacing again, one hand constantly rubbing the back of his head.
"They made me promise not to go looking for her," he continued. "They said it would only confuse and upset her if I kept trying to . . . to get her back. They wouldn't even tell me who adopted her, just that it was someone on the faculty at the university."
"I need to know what you intend to do, John," Danielle insisted, a note of trepidation in her voice. "Now that you know it was Vincent and me, what are your intentions?"
Johnny paced frantically for a few minutes, taking a perverse pleasure in having someone else do the squirming for once. He refused to even look at her as he ran all the implications, the possibilities through his mind. Finally, his pace began to slow and he turned his devastated gaze to meet her fearful blue eyes. In the end, he knew there was only one right choice he could make.
"She, um, she looks . . . happy," he murmured, suddenly finding something fascinating on the toe of his shoe. "Pretty healthy, too. Does . . . does she like sports?"
"All kinds," Danielle nodded, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "At the moment, she's torn between soccer, softball, and basketball. It took a lot of talking on our part to convince her that playing for the Rams was out of the question."
Johnny had to chuckle at the idea of his little girl facing off against a two-hundred and fifty pound linebacker. If she had his lithe frame, then it would be a pretty uneven match.
"You could be right," he replied with a sad smile. "To answer your question, I'm not going to do anything. You and Vincent have done a wonderful job, so far. For me to come forward right now would be . . . selfish, and wrong. I'm not gonna screw up her life just to satisfy my ego."
Danielle felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Closing her eyes briefly, she said a silent prayer of thanks that John Gage was the sort of man who had always put the needs of others above his own. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting all the tension go with a shuddering sigh.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You have no idea how frightened I've been since seeing you . . . seeing how strong the resemblance is between you. We weren't told exactly who the father was, but we'd always suspected after the way you just . . . vanished into thin air. Vincent was actually hoping she was yours. You were always his favorite student, you know. He said that, if she had even half of your drive and intelligence, there would be no stopping her."
"Well," Johnny murmured, feeling himself blush at the compliment, "I just hope she didn't inherit my knack for finding trouble."
Danielle had to laugh at that, stepping back and wiping at the tears streaming down her face. "Sorry to disappoint you," she chuckled, "But she is definitely your daughter. I'm surprised my hair isn't solid gray by now. Why don't you come over for dinner some night and we can fill you in on all the horror stories that girl has put us through!"
For a moment, it seemed that Johnny was seriously considering the offer, but he sadly shook his head.
"Thanks," he sighed, "but I don't think that would be a good idea. The . . . the temptation might be too great. And, well, you said she was a bright girl. She might see the resemblance and . . . and start asking questions." He stared down at the spot where his toe was trying to rub a hole in the tile. "You, um, you could do me a favor, though."
"Anything," Danielle Michaels readily agreed. "Just name it."
"If . . . if I sent you a picture of me, with my name and address on the back, would you give it to her when she turns eighteen?" he asked nervously. "Keep it out of sight until then, i-in a safe deposit box or something. Let her decide for herself if she wants to meet me. If she doesn't . . . if she hates me for . . . for giving her up, I'll understand. I just want her to have that choice."
"I don't see any problem with that," Danielle assured him with a gentle smile. "When that time comes, I think you might be surprised. Vincent and I are both very fair-skinned, you know, and Alison has your natural coloring. She noticed the difference a long time ago and we had to tell her the truth. That her mother wasn't ready for the responsibility of a child, and that her father was a wonderful man who fought to keep her, but finally gave her up because he loved her too much to hang on. I don't think she'd have any problem with meeting you."
"But I might," John confessed, fighting back tears of his own. "If I ever got to hold her, I don't know it I could ever let her go again." He brushed at something stinging the corner of his eye as he guided her towards the door. "I think you'd better go now, before I change my mind and take you up on that dinner offer."
"I wish you would," Danielle sighed as she stepped into the day room. "Vincent would love to see you again." She pressed a business card into his hand. "He's teaching over at UCLA now. Give us a call. I'm sure we can work something out."
Five pairs of eyes watched with unbridled curiosity as Johnny escorted his visitor out to her car. Roy and Marco were relieved to notice that Johnny seemed a little more like his old self as he smiled and chatted with Alison's mother. Cap and Mike also seemed to breathe a sigh of relief to have Johnny's dark mood lifted.
Chet, however, was almost bristling with curiosity. He had to know what had been eating at his pigeon all morning, and what opportunities it offered for mischief. He started to following John and his visitor outside, when he felt a firm hand on each shoulder, pinning him to his seat. Looking up, he found Cap on one side and Roy on the other, both giving him something akin to the 'evil eye.'
"Don't even think about it, Kelly," Cap warned him. "Not unless you wanna get married in that latrine."
Chet wisely kept his seat and shut up.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Johnny took her keys and opened the door for Danielle, holding on to it as she settled into her seat.
"Thank you for stopping by," he told her. "I guess I was kinda feelin' bummed out about . . . about seeing her, knowin' who she was and not being able to say anything. Talking about it helped."
"I'm glad," Danielle replied with a genuine smile that warmed his heart. "In a way, I think this was fated to happen. I really think the two of you would be great friends."
"Alison G. Michaels," Johnny mused. "Somehow, it fits her. Don't ask me how, but it does." He shut the car door and started to step back then paused, a puzzled frown causing the skin around the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "What does the G stand for?"
Danielle favored him with a mischievous grin as she fastened her seatbelt and started the engine. Rolling down the window, she raised her voice to be heard over the purr of the motor.
"I told you that we always suspected who her father was," she told him. "What do you think it stands for?"
Without another word, she threw the car in reverse and backed out of the drive. Johnny could only stand there and watch her drive away, his question unanswered. Then it hit him. A slow grin spread across his youthful features as he absorbed the meaning of her parting question.
With a snap of his fingers, Johnny spun on one heel and marched back into the engine bay, briskly rubbing his hands together as he practically bounced along. Yep, this day was looking a whole lot brighter once he knew the secret.
G was for Gage.
The End