Author's Note: Hello, my wonderful readers! I hope you don't mind me taking a little break from the Beauty for Ashes series to write something entirely new. Last month the idea for this story struck me, and I shared it with katbybee, half-expecting her to think it was way too bizarre, even for me. Instead, she loved it! Then Piscean6724 read the first chapter and wanted more, which made me feel pretty darn good about it. So, I have set aside Matthew and Melissa and Sarah Kate and Liza temporarily to make space for this tale.

This story is a stand-alone. I've got the first six chapters finished (well, mostly) and a lot more scenes written that need to be put in order and fleshed out a bit. I'm happy to give katbybee credit as my co-author. She has brainstormed ideas with me, and, in many scenes, she has taken a character or two and we've written the dialogue together, after which I go back and work out POV. I have loved her contributions! For now, I plan to release one chapter a week, on Mondays. The characters have essentially the same backstories as I've given them in Beauty for Ashes, with a few exceptions. For example, in this story, Nita does not exist and Roy was not a POW in Vietnam.

Disclaimer: The original characters from Emergency do not belong to me. They just hang out in my brain and work mischief resulting in stories like this that make me no money and tend to keep me awake late into the night.

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Friday, 13 October 1972

John stared through the Squad window at the rickety old house they'd been called to. "You sure this is right, Roy?" The yard was overgrown with weeds and the front windows were boarded up. "This house doesn't look lived in."

"You're the navigator. Check the address." The sharp edge in Roy's tone made it crystal clear that he was still angry about the ribbing he took at lunchtime. He wasn't usually a grouch about such things, but he'd been grumpy all day. Johnny figured they would work it out later.

"1507 E. Marvin Dr., next to the abandoned church. Yeah, this is it. Great… a haunted house on Friday the 13th. I knew I should've called in sick this morning."

"I could call for police backup if you want," Roy offered. "They won't mind — considerin' Howard and Lee went missin' last week, and Kendall and Scott a couple weeks before that."

Johnny shook his head, despite the misgiving that nibbled at his gut. "Nah. Every minute counts. We can handle ourselves. Just be careful." He jumped to the ground and fetched the drug box and biophone from their compartment. Roy came around from the driver's side and pulled out the OB kit. Johnny didn't like the idea of bringing a kid into the world in this run-down place. Hopefully, they would have time to get the lady to Rampart before she gave birth. He trotted dutifully up the creaking steps to the front door and knocked several times.

The door creaked open just as Roy stepped up behind him. Before him, he saw a lady dressed all in white. At first Johnny thought she was old because of her silver hair, which she wore pulled back in a bun, but then he wasn't sure. Her smooth skin made her seem young. She was the tallest woman he had ever seen.

"Oh good," she warbled. She had a deep, soothing voice, one that made Johnny think of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and bedtime stories by a cozy fireplace. "I'm glad you boys are here. I was afraid I would have to deliver this baby myself." She held up gloved hands and wiggled her fingers as if to demonstrate her readiness to do so. "Come in. Mari is in the bedroom at the end of the hall. She's waiting for you."

As she turned, Johnny noticed a silver medallion flashing in the sunlight. It was shaped like a peacock, and the tail feathers looked like they were made of emerald and sapphire. He wondered what she was doing in a dump like this if she could afford jewelry like that.

Johnny followed her toward the hallway. He would never remember what happened next. Before he was halfway across the room, some strange substance blew into his face, getting into his nose and mouth. His limbs started feeling heavy, and dizziness brought him to his knees. Then everything just went black.

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Cap Stanley's brow furrowed as he checked his watch. "Roy and John should've reported in by now." They'd left on their run an hour ago. Hank had tried raising them on the radio, but there was no answer. If there had been complications with their victim, they would have contacted Rampart, but Dixie and Dr. Brackett hadn't heard a thing either. Maybe he was overreacting, but Hank had a bad feeling in his gut about this whole situation. After all, several other paramedics from the county had vanished suspiciously over the last couple of months, and other counties had reported similar disappearances.

"Mike," he ordered. "Call Dispatch and ask them to send police backup and a Squad to the address of Roy and John's last call. Let them know we're headed over there. We're going to find our missing paramedics."

Mike nodded and got on the horn with Dispatch. As the crew climbed into the engine, he told Cap that Sam Lanier had promised to send police and a squad to meet them at the address.

Ten minutes later, they turned onto E. Marvin. A wood-paneled station wagon came barreling down the street and turned the corner with a screeching of tires. At the end of the street, Mike parked Big Red behind Squad 51 in front of a rundown three-story house that looked like something out of a ghost story. Pete Malloy and Jim Reed from the police department arrived about the same time as the squad from 36's. Under orders to stand back, the firemen watched while Malloy went to the door of the house and knocked.

When no one answered, Malloy turned the doorknob. He pushed the door open and poked his head in. A second later, he turned and shouted. "Paramedics, now!"

"Damn," Hank murmured. He sprinted alongside Tom Ogleby and Ned Garrison to the front door, making way for them to get in first. As much as he wanted to be there for his men, he wasn't about to get in the way of the help they needed.

Inside the front room of the old house, Roy lay on the bare floor, unconscious, his face pale and sweaty. His fingernails and lips had a tinge of blue, and Hank saw no rise and fall of his chest. Ned got down next to him and felt for his pulse. "It's slow, but it's there. Get his vitals, Tom," Garrison ordered as he got the oxygen ready. They were a good team, Hank mused. Almost as good as Roy and Johnny.

He shuddered suddenly, realization striking. "Johnny. Guys —" He didn't have to look to know the rest of A-Shift had followed him in. "Find Johnny. He's gotta be here somewhere."

"Yessir, Cap." Chet, Marco, and Mike scattered to search the house.

Hank was only vaguely aware of the words that passed between the two paramedics. Tom was on the biophone and contacted Rampart. They thought Roy was having some sort of severe allergic attack. His throat was swollen shut so they couldn't get a breathing tube in place. No way to know how long he'd been without oxygen. Brackett ordered an IV and an emergency cricothy-something-or-other* and the medics took care of it quickly. Soon the ambulance arrived. In short order, Roy was on the gurney and headed to Rampart.

Once Roy had been transported, Hank joined the search party. Johnny was nowhere to be found in the house, so they canvassed the neighborhood. No luck.

"It's the damnedest thing, Mike. Who would take Johnny?" Hank pulled off his captain's hat and pushed a hand through his hair. They were standing in the front yard of the tumble-down house.

Mike shrugged. "He could have wandered off on his own if he inhaled the same stuff Roy did. But the only footprints I saw led from the front door to the garage. I think someone got him in a car and drove off with him."

Hank frowned. He wished he'd gotten the license plate on that station wagon. "I had a bad feeling about this run from the beginning. All the fake calls we've been getting lately, and those other missing guys… they never should've gone on this run alone. If we hadn't been out putting down that garbage bin fire…"

"Has anyone searched there yet?" Mike was pointing to the abandoned church next door.

"That place has been locked up for years," Pete Malloy said, stepping down from the porch to stand with Mike and Hank. "Before my time, but I've heard the story. Pastor went away to a conference and never came back. His wife disbanded the church after that — apparently she had a lot of pull over the church council." He pointed to the old house behind him. "This used to be the parsonage. No one's lived there since, except for occasional squatters we've had to move out. We'll take a look, and I've called for a canine unit to see if they can pick up Johnny's scent. How's Roy?"

Hank frowned. "Not doing so great. If we hadn't gotten here when we did…" His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. "I sure hope John's not in the same shape."

"We'll find him," Reed promised. Hank wasn't sure if the officer was really that confident or just trying to convince himself.

The firemen broke the lock on the church door. Malloy said they had cause, given Roy's condition. It could be a matter of life or death for Johnny. But the church was empty. Eerily so. Each step the search party took stirred up dust. The men pounded up the stairs to the choir loft, searched all through the sanctuary and the Sunday School rooms. Nothing. In the fellowship hall, they encountered a locked door. With Malloy's approval, they busted the lock. Even if he hadn't approved, Hank would've told his men to break down the door anyway.

Stairs led down into a dark-as-pitch basement. The electricity had long since been shut off, so it was no use flipping the switch. They all had flashlights on their belts, though, so they turned them on and headed down the stairs, hoping to find Johnny somewhere down there.

At the bottom of the stairs was a set of doors. They pushed these open and walked through. Hank felt like he was about to choke on the dusty air. The flashlight beams cut through the darkness, landing on something in the middle of the room. It took a second for Hank to register what he was seeing.

Then it sank in… a black coffin with tarnished candelabras set on small altars at either end. Black candles were set in the sconces, but from the cobwebs and dust, Hank figured they hadn't been lit for a long time.

"Holy cow," Chet breathed out.

"Nothin' holy about this," Marco countered, crossing himself.

Hank murmured a prayer that what he feared was not what they were about to find. "We gotta look inside," he said quietly.

His mouth set in a grim line, Mike stepped forward and looked for the crank. When he found it, he looked at Cap.

"Go ahead." Hank swallowed hard.

Mike cranked the coffin lid open, and they all held their breath.

Inside was a body. Thank Heavens, it couldn't be John. This body had been decaying for years. The smell was horrible. Hank wanted to get away, but he noticed something taped to the coffin and he wanted a closer look. Clamping a sleeve over his nose, he moved in next to Pete so he could see it. It was a piece of parchment, and there was a verse written on it in red. "Kinda looks like blood," Hank muttered, then he read it aloud.

Here lie the bones of Garret Lloyd,

A no-good cheater consigned to the void.

He talked about Heaven, he'll never get in.

Hera took vengeance. He paid for his sin.

"Garrett Lloyd?" Malloy stepped back. He was covering his nose too. "That's the preacher who went missing."

Mike's response summed it up pretty well for all of them. "What the hell is going on here?"

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Saturday, 14 October 1972

Ariadne Lloyd was furious. She and Johnny were supposed to meet this morning for a day at the beach and he hadn't shown up. At first, she thought he stood her up. It's what men did, at least in her experience. But then she saw the article on page three of the Los Angeles Times, and she knew. She had stood in her kitchen, fuming. "She took him! She actually went and took him, after she promised he was mine!"

If she protested, they would pull her out of recruitment and send her back to the Farm, and she would hate that. She wouldn't have minded going back if she could have Johnny, but going back to be assigned menial labor was out of the question.

It was no use fighting it. Once Hera made up her mind on something, no one could change it anyway. Besides, Hera had been good to her. Years ago, she'd said she saw something special in Ariadne. Hera put her through nursing school and helped her get the job at Rampart and she paid her mortgage. All Ariadne had to do in return was devote time to recruitment.

She closed her eyes and recalled the method Hera had taught her to deal with anger. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, releasing her emotions into the air around her. She thought she could feel the room grow icy as her anger flowed out, but then it warmed again with the next breath as she inhaled peace and joy. With the following breath, she banished her feelings for Johnny, accepting that he would never be hers. She would have to look for someone else.

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Monday, 16 October 1972

Roy forced his eyes open to a big blur. His head was pounding. His whole body felt heavy… sluggish… and he couldn't remember what had happened. He blinked a few times and, gradually, the blur resolved into distinguishable shapes. First he noticed all the medical equipment that was hooked up to him. He had an IV in his right arm and could feel tubes going down his nose. Musta been a helluva call. He knew where he was, but the word was slow coming to his mind. Hospital. Ah, there it was. Yeah. He was at a hospital.

A nurse was sitting by his bed, humming a tune he couldn't quite place. His wife would like it. His wife… she wouldn't be here. She had gone… somewhere… he wasn't sure where and he couldn't remember why she'd left. Come to think of it, he was having an awful time remembering her name. Roy slowly pivoted his head to focus on the nurse. He tried to speak but couldn't get any sound out. He willed his fingers to grab her sleeve, but they weren't cooperating. Instead, he rapped on the mattress a few times to get her attention.

She looked down and smiled at him and her hand came down on top of his. "Hey, Roy. Welcome back. About time you woke up. Don't try to talk, now. You've got a trach tube and you're hooked up to a ventilator." She shook her head. "You gave us a real scare, you know."

So, she knew him. He couldn't place her at all. Her face looked kinda familiar, but he couldn't put a name to it. He looked at her, hopeful that she could read the questions in his eyes. What happened?

She squeezed his hand. Her warm eyes were moist with tears. "Roy, you might not remember much just now, but you and Johnny never reported back from your last call. The engine crew went looking for you at that address. They found you unconscious and not breathing. But Roy…"

She blinked and he caught a shadow of worry in her eyes. She didn't continue right away. Instead, she got up and checked his IV, then took his vitals.

Roy's body was aching for more sleep, but something was wrong, and he wanted to know what it was. He needed answers. He rapped on the mattress again.

"Roy…" The nurse was back in her chair now. She wrapped warm fingers around his hand and squeezed it tight. "They found you, but Johnny wasn't there. That was two days ago. They still haven't found him, and we haven't been able to reach JoAnne. We've been hoping you could tell us what happened."

Right now, the ventilator was damned uncomfortable, and his brain hurt too much to sift through everything she'd just said. She wanted information, but he had none to give her. At this point, he wasn't even sure who this Johnny guy was, but he couldn't speak to tell her that. He gave a slight shake of the head and instantly regretted the movement.

She patted him on the shoulder. "I can see you're in pain. We'll talk about it later. Dr. Brackett said I could increase your morphine if you needed it. Get some rest." She adjusted the meds, then sat with him until he sank back into sleep.

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Dixie fought tears as she hurried down the corridor to the elevator. Roy hadn't known her. She had seen it in his eyes. And when she'd held his hand, his fingers were flaccid, lacking their usual dexterity. Kel had warned her what to expect. They didn't know exactly how long he'd gone without oxygen, after all. But she hadn't really accepted it as a possibility until he looked up at her like a lost little boy, without recognition in his gaze. "Please God, let him get it all back," she murmured. She wasn't much given to prayer, but for one of her boys, she would do anything that might help.

Now she was on her way to try calling JoAnne again. She'd called the DeSoto home several times since Roy was brought in, but no one answered. When she tried Chris' preschool, they just told her that JoAnne had called to let them know the little boy wouldn't be there this week, but she hadn't said where she was going.

No one on 51's A Shift was aware of Jo traveling, but they did say Roy had been in a foul mood much of his last shift. That left Dixie suspecting a fight between the pair. Maybe Jo had gone to her mother's. Last week, Roy had complained that his mother-in-law was angling to move in with them and look after the kids so that JoAnne could get a job and supplement Roy's "meager income." No doubt, Jo was walking a tightrope, trying to be loyal to her mother and to her husband.

Roy's sister, Marta, and her husband were traveling with the New York Philharmonic, performing somewhere behind the Iron Curtain. It might be possible to get a message to Marta, but how long would it take her to get to L.A.? Still, she might have a suggestion for reaching JoAnne. Meanwhile, Roy's mother Harriet was away on a once-in-a-lifetime trip with her beau to see the Egyptian pyramids and would be unreachable for at least a couple of weeks. Roy had been slow to accept his mother's interest in a man other than his father, even though it had been more than a decade since Danny DeSoto had died. But eventually he'd come around. He'd told Dixie that his mother was happier than she'd been in a long time, and he hoped that Merritt Stirling would propose soon. Dixie sighed. She hoped that Merritt Stirling would bring Harriet home soon. Roy needed family around him at a time like this.

And then there was Johnny. The very thought of his impish grin brought fresh tears to Dixie's eyes. There was just something about 51's junior paramedic. If she were twenty years younger, she would have a crush on him. She wasn't, of course, and she didn't, but she enjoyed his enthusiasm and zest for life. Johnny was a sensitive man, generous to a fault, and full of integrity. He could be full of himself, too, but he was never afraid to admit when he was wrong. Sometimes he gave the impression of being shallow, but Dixie knew better. Once he found the right girl, he would love her with all the depth of his big heart. She looked up at the ceiling and sent up another prayer. Hopefully, it would make it past the ceiling and reach the ears of Whoever might be listening. "God, if you're really there… help us find him, huh?"

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Johnny awoke to find himself shivering in the dark. At first he thought he was in Rampart. From the discomfort he felt, he knew he had been catheterized. He wondered at first if his eyes were bandaged, because he could see nothing. But eventually, a sliver of moonlight drifted in through a window set high on the wall, just enough illumination to reveal a few feet around him. He tried to sit up, but apparently, his arms and legs had been restrained. All he could move was his head. He looked around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Bars from floor to ceiling marked one end of the small space in which he was confined. The other three sides were bare stone walls.

"Hey!" His shout faded into the darkness. To be honest, it was more of a croak than a shout. "Let me outta here," he managed. No one answered. His mouth felt incredibly dry. He turned his head toward the wall, and that's when he found it. The moonlight glistened on a long metal tube, just within reach of his mouth. Liquid dripped from the end. Clearly, he was supposed to drink from this, but he knew better than to trust it. "Great… way to make me feel like a hamster," he muttered, then raised his voice. Maybe someone would hear him. "Gonna stick me in an exercise ball next?" Ignoring his thirst, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember how the hell he got here. He kept reciting to himself his grandfather's words. Panic achieves nothing, but a clear mind and a strong will can get me through any adversity.

And so, he focused on recounting the events of the day as best he could remember them, a mental exercise to keep his mind clear. They'd had three calls in the morning. The first was for a kid who had fallen out of a tree house and broken his arm. The second was for a man who thought he was having a heart attack, but it turned out to be a panic attack. Yeah… the very thing I need to avoid right now. And the third call… he had to think hard on that one. Oh yeah, a teenager who had been thrown from a horse. Poor kid. She had a broken back and might never walk again. Then they'd gone back to the station and had Stoker's spaghetti for lunch. He remembered ribbing Roy about the fight he'd had with JoAnne over it last year. Roy had fumed and the rest of the guys had laughed, and Chet had said something dumb. Then Cap broke it up and called them all twits. That was as much as Johnny remembered about the shift.

But he did remember why he had been looking forward to the end of shift. He and that drop-dead gorgeous nurse Ariadne were going to spend a day at the beach. They'd been waiting for their days off to line up and it was finally happening. He wasn't convinced Ariadne was "the one," but she was smart and pretty, and he would enjoy what time he could get with her. Who could know, maybe it would lead to something after all. I gotta get outta here so I can make that date. Or had he already missed the date? He had no idea how long he had spent in this cell. Was Roy here somewhere too? "Hey, Roy? You there?" he called when the silence got to be too much for him. "Is anybody there?" Again, no answer.

Thirst soon got the better of him. He needed something to relieve his dry mouth. Reluctantly, he put his lips around the end of the tube and sucked in a mouthful of liquid. It tasted all right. Good, in fact. At first, he just let it wet his mouth and then he spit it out. But the dryness went all the way down his throat, and he really needed to soothe it, so he swallowed the next mouthful. It left his body feeling pleasantly warm. A few minutes later, he decided he must've been drugged because he started feeling drowsy. He fought it as long as he could, but eventually sleep overcame him.

The next time Johnny awoke, the clear mind was gone. His grandfather's words were gone. He could barely grasp his own name. And he was desperate for more of that liquid. Why was his mouth so dry? He drank from the tube again. Shivering, he glanced around him, trying to remember something. In vain. Finally, he succumbed once again to sleep.

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NOTE:

*The word Cap couldn't quite manage is cricothyrotomy. It's a safer method to establish an airway in an emergency than a tracheostomy, which requires anesthesia and takes longer to perform.