Author's Note: Dear readers, it's Monday, and here, as promised, is chapter three! I hope that you are continuing to enjoy this story. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed!

In a couple of scenes today, katbybee wrote for Mike and Cap. Thank you so much, kat, for enriching this story! And Piscean6724, thank you for beta reading and being such an encouragement to me!

This chapter features Beth. I imagine her as being of mixed French and Japanese heritage, growing up in French Polynesia where her parents worked at a Catholic mission. Her English is excellent, and she has a light French accent. She and Mike met at that mission when his parents went to work there for a couple of years after his father retired.

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Glossary:

Japanese – English

Okaasan – Mother

French – English

Père - Father

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Monday, 6 November 1972

Roy was glad to be going home. This morning, just before lunchtime, Dr. Brackett had signed his discharge papers. During Roy's stay at Rampart, they had poked and prodded him from head to toe and drawn blood more times than he could count, but they had never identified the substance that had almost killed him.

Thankfully, his memory had returned — well, other than the fateful day of that last run — and he was making progress in both speech and physical therapy. He was still unsteady on his feet, but he did pretty well with a walker. His hands were mostly back to normal, and other than a frustrating stutter, his speech was clear, except when he got tired (which, admittedly, was often). Occasionally, he had to search his mind for the word he wanted, but he was learning ways to hide that behind yawns and coughs.

JoAnne insisted on taking him to Harvey's Cafe for burgers before they went home. When they were done, he was ready for a nap. But as Jo pulled the car into their driveway, Roy noticed Cap's Edsel sitting in front of the house. Parked right behind it was a cop car. He recognized Pete Malloy at the wheel. "I wonder what they're d-doin' here." He was a little afraid to find out. No one had given him news of Johnny for the last several days, even though he'd been asking.

Cap climbed out of the driver's side of the Edsel and Mike out of the passenger's side. Damn, Roy thought. It's gotta be big if they're both here. He wondered whether Mike was there to hold his hand or Cap's. Malloy and Reed also got out of their vehicle. Jim was carrying something.

"C-Cap, Mike. Officers." Roy nodded to the men in turn once he was out of the car. "I hope you're…" Yawn. "B-b-bringin' good news." He hoped, but he sure as hell wasn't holding his breath.

Cap grimaced. "I wish we were, Roy. We haven't found John yet. Can we go inside and sit down?"

"Yeah." Roy pushed his walker forward, grateful that at least he was on his feet. He'd be thrilled when he could kick the thing to the curb. Jo probably wanted to follow him and make sure he wasn't going to topple, but she knew how much he hated being mother-henned, so she went on ahead. She unlocked the door and gestured for their guests to go in first. Roy missed the kids, but he was glad they were still with Eileen. They didn't need to see their daddy break down, and Roy was afraid he might if the news was bad.

Once they were inside and sitting in the living room, Jo went to the kitchen to get some coffee started. Reed placed the wooden box on the coffee table in front of Roy. "We'd like you to look at this, see if it triggers any memories."

Cap explained further. "Mike and I found it at the house the other day, the one where you and Johnny had your last call."

Roy stared at the box for a long moment. It was well-crafted and polished to a sheen. Whatever was inside, it must have something to do with him and Johnny. Hesitantly, he lifted the lid and peered at the contents. He read the parchment first, his chest tightening as he did so. Then he lifted it to find Johnny's badge and name tag. He dropped the parchment and pushed the box away. "No," he said flatly. "I… don't b-believe it. He's not d-d-dead."

Mike nodded. "I agree. I think someone has him, but doesn't plan on giving him back."

"Then we g-gotta keep lookin'." Roy fingered the carving on the box's lid. He'd seen the pattern before, but he couldn't think where. He looked to Malloy. "Will this b-box help you find him?"

Malloy frowned. "At this point, there's nothing helpful about it, as far as locating Gage. But we did go back to the addresses where the paramedics from 36's and 8's disappeared and poked around some more, and we found similar boxes with their badges and tags. So at least we know it's all connected."

"No p-prints, huh? No t-t-tracin' who made th' calls?" Roy's forehead wrinkled. He was grasping at straws, maybe, but there had to be something here, something more than a farewell to his best friend. "At least you've g-got a handwriting sample, right?"

Reed shifted in his seat. "The calls were all made from pay phones, no way to know who made them. And it's the same scrawl as that other note, but it doesn't match anything on file."

Roy held up a hand. "Wait. No one t-told me about another note."

And so, Cap and Mike proceeded to fill Roy and Jo in on everything that had happened with the search the day of Roy and Johnny's last run.

"Man, that's creepy," Roy said when he heard about the coffin. "Who is this…" Cough. "Hera?"

Cap shrugged. "No one knows for sure. Just like they have no idea what connection she or he might have to the preacher. It's downright nuts."

Jo, returning with a tray of coffee mugs, looked over Roy's shoulder at the parchment. "Hera was a female in Greek mythology, and I'd say that looks like a woman's handwriting," she commented as she set the tray on the coffee table. "The carving around the edge of the lid is an old Greek pattern — I think it's called Meandros. I learned about it in high school. Oh, what was it Mr. Craig said about it?" Her nose wrinkled as she thought.

Roy watched her, his admiration for her deepening. He knew she'd figured it out when the wrinkles on her nose smoothed out again. "Oh, I know. Some scholars think it could be related to the journey from sin to redemption." She shrugged. "I don't know if that means anything here, but… well… that's what I remember from my Latin class." She blinked, and Roy knew she was trying to hold back tears.

He pushed the box back to Reed, then wrapped his arms around his wife and whispered in her ear, "Johnny's alive and we're g-gonna find him."

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Mike had kept quiet during most of the conversation. He was thinking hard. Jo's comments had triggered something that was niggling at him, but he couldn't quite pull whatever it was into focus. He knew it was important to the case, but he just couldn't think of it. Part of it had to do with the symbol on the boxes and all the mythology surrounding this thing, but the big connection was eluding him, something about the victims themselves. They had to have something in common, didn't they? They were all paramedics, of course, but Mike didn't think that was it. There was something else, but it just wouldn't come to him. Finally, he decided to let it go for the time being. The answer would probably wake him up in the middle of the night.

"Ya know," Hank commented. "I've been trying to put my finger on something, and I just thought of it. This all reminds me of when I was junior lineman at 10's. Not long after I married Emily." He cracked his knuckles as he reminisced. "One day we were called to a fire in an abandoned house. Turned out it was a crank call, but we had to check over the structure anyway, to be sure nothing was smoldering. Clay Hastings, one of our rescue men, disappeared on that call. We never did figure out what happened to him. He was there one minute and gone the next. Police searched and searched but never found him. His fiancée never gave up hope, though. Emily and I see her from time to time. She's got presents for Clay for every birthday and Christmas he's missed."

Mike's eyes narrowed. His mind was still working on that connection. "I wonder if there's a wooden box hidden in that old house."

"Maybe there was." Cap shrugged up a shoulder. "It was demolished a couple years later to make room for new development. Still, if they built on the old foundation, there might be something there."

Roy yawned. His eyelids were at half-mast. Jo leaned forward and started to gather the coffee mugs back onto the tray. "If you'll excuse us, Roy is exhausted, and I know he's not willing to say it, so I will. We weren't expecting company."

Roy didn't protest, but he did say one more thing. "You should see if the —" He paused briefly and yawned again before continuing. "The c-current owner… would let you look."

Malloy assured Roy that they would investigate whether there was a box to be found. Then he and the others stood to leave.

"Rest and get well, pal," Cap ordered 51's senior paramedic. "That's all you need to worry about right now. Understand?"

"Yessir, Cap. Soon as I get rid of this thing, though…" And here he kicked a foot at the walker. "I'm g-gettin' out there and —" He yawned again. "Helpin' you search."

Jo kissed Roy, then stood and offered to see their visitors out.

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Tuesday, 7 November 1972

Some birthday. Roy sat in his armchair and watched the kids play. Eileen had driven them up from San Diego this morning. She'd come in with balloons and a bunch of wrapped presents — must have figured Jo wouldn't have a chance to shop. At least the guys from work were giving him space. Maybe they were on duty. Roy wasn't sure. Days just seemed to melt together lately. He hadn't even realized it was his birthday until JoAnne had mentioned it at breakfast.

"No," he'd said firmly. "Not till J-Johnny's home."

Jo had kissed him and filled up his glass of orange juice. "OK, honey. We'll wait to celebrate."

Thirty minutes later, Chris pounded on the front door. Jo let him in. Eileen and Ralph followed with Megan in Ralph's arms and the two Deveraux kids trailing behind. Eileen deposited her armload of presents on the kitchen table and went back out to the car to get the cake.

To Jo's credit, she'd tried to convince her sister that it was a bad time, but Eileen was a force of nature. When she set her mind on something, the rest of the world had better watch out. Sometimes that woman had about as much sense (and sensitivity) as her mother. At least she wasn't hostile to Roy… most of the time.

Today, Roy couldn't muster up enough fake enthusiasm to satisfy her. About five minutes ago, she had snapped out a complaint about not staying where she wasn't wanted. Then she stormed out, her husband and kids on her heels. For the first time, Roy realized how much Eileen looked like her mother when she was angry. He didn't really care that he'd hurt her feelings. His head was pounding, and he just wanted to take his meds and crawl back in bed.

Jo slipped back in the front door. She had hurried out after Eileen to smooth things over. Now she trotted across the living room and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, honey. I knew she was bringing the kids, but I didn't expect anything more. I didn't even know she remembered your birthday." She brushed her lips against his, which brought giggles from Megan.

"Mush! Mush!" their daughter squealed. Roy winced, but he wasn't going to tell his princess no. There was nothing the fifteen-month-old loved better than a 'smush kiss,' when Mommy and Daddy squished her face by holding her between them and each kissing one of her pudgy cheeks at the same time.

Jo held her in position, and they gave her the smush kiss. She repaid them with sloppy kisses of her own, then Jo plopped her down in her playpen. "All right, Roy. I know you're wiped out. Go back to bed. Do you need help on the stairs?"

"T-t-take… th' walker… to the t-top. Rail'll… help me g-g-get up."

Soon enough, he was settled in bed. Jo brought him a glass of water and his meds, then pulled the covers over him, kissed him, and turned off the lights. "I love you, Roy. Sleep well."

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Saturday, 11 November 1972

Number 27 wasn't sure when he had last slept. Bright light constantly prickled in his eyes. The voice droned on and on, pronouncing his doom if he did not learn obedience. Each time the lecture reached its end, it bounced back to the beginning, but something new had been added now. "Repeat these words with me, 27," the voice ordered. "Commit them to memory. Let them become a part of you."

He fought that. Yes, he had memorized them. Even if they were switched off, he imagined he would still hear them repeating endlessly in his head, so perhaps they had become a part of him. When he tried to think of arguments, he found that words failed him. But he refused to speak them. Somehow, he understood that Hera, whoever she was, had stripped him of every shred of himself… everything except the stubbornness he now clung to. He would not give in. He could not say the words. Something inside him knew they were a lie.

The hours blended together. Night and day no longer held any meaning. Maybe years had passed in the world outside his cell, or maybe only days. Only the will to resist kept him going. When thirst scratched at his throat or hunger gnawed at his belly, he drank from the tube. But through it all, he kept silent.

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Wednesday, 15 November 1972

Roy was beyond frustrated. Physical therapy was kicking his ass, and he couldn't help feeling like everyone was giving up on the search for Johnny. If Jo hadn't hidden his car keys, he would have been out there using his medical leave to search. She'd caught him on the way out to the Porsche early yesterday morning and confiscated them. He couldn't blame her, really. She was just looking out for him. But someone needed to devote more time to bringing Johnny home.

He wasn't dead. Roy couldn't say how he knew it, but he just knew. He didn't go in for all that garbage about psychic energy and the like, but he was certain he'd know if Johnny had actually died. And so now he sat by the window, staring out at his car and silently cursing his own weakness.

"I know it's hard, honey." Jo's arm came around his shoulders and he felt her kiss on the top of his head. "Come on. We're dropping the kids off with Beth Stoker. Then we'll go looking for Johnny. I'll drive."

He nodded wearily, then pulled his walker over from where he'd parked it next to his chair. Over the last week, his stutter had gotten progressively worse, to the point that he now refused to speak except with his speech therapist. The stutter was a result of his anoxic brain injury, but the fire department psychologist he was required to see thought that stress was making things worse. He also suggested that Roy might be suffering from survivor's guilt. The implications of the term made Roy cringe, and the only thing that would ease the stress was finding his best friend.

Before they left the house, he pulled a notepad out of his pocket and wrote on it with a stub of a pencil. "Thanks, Jo." He reached for her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, then passed the notepad to her. She looked up at him and the expression on her face melted his heart. He didn't deserve her. Never had. And even so, she still loved him with all her heart. He could see it in her eyes, all mixed up with the deep hurt she felt over his current struggles.

"Roy," she said softly, her hand caressing his cheek. "I'd rather hear you speak the words. I don't care about the stutter. The kids don't care. Your friends don't care. We miss your voice." She leaned in over the walker and kissed him, then pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Remember what the therapist said — it's not going to get better if you don't do the exercises at home."

He nodded. He did his exercises, privately. They weren't helping. "F-f-find Jo-Johnny," he forced out, and nodded to the door.

After dropping the kids off, they spent the day driving around, starting at the old house where Johnny had been taken. It was eerie for Roy, not remembering what had happened to him in that very house but knowing it had almost ended his life. The knowledge sat like a stone in his gut.

Crime scene tape closed off the building and they couldn't go in without permission from the police department, so they couldn't look here. Wouldn't do any good, anyway. It had been searched from top to bottom several times over. There was nothing to find that hadn't already been discovered.

As evening descended over Los Angeles, they ended their fruitless search and picked up the kids from Beth. Chris was clamoring in the back seat for ice cream and Megan was crying because she hated leaving Aunt Bethy. Roy just wanted to go home and crawl back into bed, but Jo pulled off at Dairy Queen and insisted they all go inside. When it was time to order, she asked Roy what he wanted. He just grunted and wouldn't say anything, so she ordered him a vanilla cone dipped in chocolate. Not his favorite, which she knew, but Roy didn't care. It would do.

At last, ice cream eaten, they got back in the car and headed home for real. Once they arrived, Chris rode inside on the seat of Roy's walker. Jo carried Megan in her arms. Inside, Roy kissed them all goodnight and then, clenching the handrail tightly, made his way up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom.

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Sunday, 19 November 1972

Beth was angry at Mike before he ever offered to take her to supper. She hadn't said anything, but she'd been stewing all day. He wasn't often home on Sundays, but when he was, she wanted him to attend church with her and the boys. Instead, he'd insisted on sleeping in. Yesterday's shift had been brutal, he'd said, and he needed time to recover.

Well, yesterday with quarrelsome twins had been brutal too, but she had gotten out of bed this morning and made breakfast and wrangled them into their church clothes and gotten out the door, all before 8:30. Then she'd come home and fed them lunch and kept them quietly occupied while their father slept.

By the time Mike crawled out of bed at two in the afternoon, Beth was ready to crawl into bed. Instead, she fed him a late lunch, then oversaw the boys' homework and cleaning the playroom. She could have asked Mike to take over, but she wouldn't. At this point, it was a matter of pride. What she really wanted was an opportunity to sit down and talk with him privately. She had news she longed to share with him without the kids around. But now she had decided the news would wait. Maybe at Thanksgiving dinner, she would tell him what the doctor had told her a couple days ago.

When Mike told her to call the sitter so they could have a dinner date, she should have been happy. In a way, she was. But that resentment simmered under the surface. Still, she'd gotten on the phone and arranged for Missy Barlow to come watch the twins. Then she relented and let the pair watch TV for a bit while she got gussied up.

"Well, where are we going?" she asked Mike as she slid into her seat in Hannah, his beloved Dodge Dart. I got all dressed up and he hasn't said anything. Does he even notice me anymore?

He was rubbing at a spot of dust on Hannah's dashboard and didn't even turn to look at her. "I was thinking you might like to go to Antonio's tonight. I know you love the food there."

"Antonio's sounds good." She didn't really care. She stared out her window as Mike started the car. "Father Márquez asked after you today. He hasn't seen you for a while."

"I know. I'll get there when I can."

His answer wasn't enough. She folded her arms across her chest. "Why not today?"

"Listen, Beth, you know I don't like bringing work home. I don't want to burden you with the bad stuff." He clamped his mouth shut and she knew that was all the explanation she was getting.

"Marco and Mama Lopez were there." Beth couldn't resist pushing the matter. She felt guilty for it, but she did it anyway. Why do I do this, God?! She stared skyward as if she expected an answer to fall into her lap, but she didn't get one.

"Marco never misses when he's off-shift. I think it's some kind of badge of honor thing with him." He fell silent. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the turn signal before taking a right on Sepulveda.

Probably trying to put an end to the subject. But I'm not going to let him. "I think Mama Lopez would tan his hide if he did. Maybe I should threaten to tan yours." Beth looked over at him. His jaw was tightly clenched. She'd made him angry. The accomplishment gave her a small sense of victory and an even larger sense of remorse.

"Beth, let's not argue tonight," he said. She could hear the strain in his voice. He was trying not to blow up at her. "Let's just go have a nice dinner, okay?" He pulled into Antonio's parking lot, found a space, and parked Hannah.

Beth spent a minute gathering her thoughts instead of getting out right away. Her husband kept this car in immaculate condition. Hannah was clean and well-maintained, her oil always changed, tires rotated on schedule. Why didn't he tend their marriage the same way? She tried not to be high maintenance, but she would like something more than an occasional nice dinner. She wanted to feel like he noticed her, like she mattered to him. He hadn't even thanked her for keeping the kids quiet so he could sleep into mid-afternoon. But he didn't want to argue, so she bit back her complaints, blinked back her tears, and got out.

Mike stepped to her side and took her arm. She stiffened but didn't pull away. Used to be, she would never get out on her own. Mike always opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out. She missed that.

Without a reservation, there was a thirty-minute wait for a table. Beth sat beside Mike, stiff and silent. She felt like she was collapsing in on herself. She was tired and anxious and not sure how to move forward with her husband. She loved him. That was never in question. She just didn't know how to bridge the gulf that seemed to stretch between them these days.

Her mother's words were hammering a refrain in her mind. That boy will break your heart one day. Okaasan didn't like Mike because he was neither French nor Japanese. She and Père had a strong distrust of Americans. But Beth had fallen hard for Mike when his family joined their mission in Papeari just after he turned sixteen. Two years later, once they were both eighteen, they eloped. Okaasan and Père disowned her for it. She and Mike had left the islands with his parents and never looked back. Now she couldn't silence Okaasan's voice in her head, insisting she was right.

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Mike was becoming more and more agitated as he and Beth waited for their table. She'd barely moved since they sat down, and she hadn't spoken a word. He hoped they'd get through the meal without a scene. Then maybe they could talk when they got home. Some date this is turning out to be.

He wasn't sure how something that had seemed like a minor hiccup was suddenly looming over them like a giant shadow. He didn't know what to do about it, and he didn't like it. Beth was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. Suddenly, it hit him. He knew what he needed to do. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Hey, gorgeous, can you wait a couple hours for dinner?"

He heard her stomach grumble and was pretty sure she would say no. But instead she looked at him, her expression suddenly softening. "I suppose. Missy said she was free all evening."

He took her hand and stood up. "Come on, we'll get something to eat later. We can call Missy and let her know we'll be late. Let's go." He walked her back to Hannah, helped her into her seat, then went around and climbed into his own and started the car.

Beth sat silently again as he pulled out of the parking lot, but he could tell things were different. Earlier, the tension between them had been thick. Now it seemed to have dissipated. Mike figured she would be surprised by their destination. Evening Mass was just starting as he pulled into the church parking lot. He smiled at her. "Shall we?"

Beth's eyes were glowing when she looked at him this time. "Thank you. And… I'm sorry, Mike." This time, she waited for him to open her door.

He helped her out and put his arm around her. "You'll always be my beautiful Bethy. Forever."

He smiled as she nestled close against him. "Oh, Mike. I don't know how you put up with me. I'm too proud… too stubborn… and I'm so hard on you."

Mike laughed. It felt good. He hadn't done much of that lately. "Hey, what do you think Confession is for?"

Beth sighed. "I already confessed earlier today — I never thought I'd need to again so soon. Still… I've been awfully tired lately. I needed you today, Mike. That's why I was so upset."

He bent to kiss the top of her head. "That's when you need to talk to me, love. Just tell me. I'll listen and help you. Now come on before they shut the doors on us."

She nodded and let him lead her inside. Mike knew what the small sanctuary meant to her. They'd talked about it before. She loved the incense, the candles, the deep sense of communion with the Divine. All of it wrapped around her and carried away the stress of her day. He wasn't as devout as she was, but he sure liked seeing how it relaxed her to be here. As Father Márquez delivered the homily, Mike wrapped his hand around Beth's. He was never letting this woman go.