Chapter 12
Roy DeSoto sat in the employee lounge at Rampart, hands wrapped around a coffee mug. He wasn't sure which he was enjoying more – the scalding hot brew scorching his throat or the pleasant warmth that was leaching through the ceramic to his chilled hands. His turnout coat was draped on a chair across from him; he could hear an occasional drip hit the linoleum as the rain water slowly made its way down the stiff material.
His HT sat inches away from his warming hands on the table. He had squelched the volume until it was just a mildly diverting background noise. There wasn't much that he could do with it, until his partner got here with the squad, except decipher the traffic. He didn't have to listen too hard to pick out the call signs and was confident he would pick up on any chit chat pertaining to his new station. He smiled, wondering if his hand would automatically shoot out when 41s was mentioned, instead of 51s. Might require a conscious effort on his part, but he was sure he would be able to manage it.
He traced a finger around the rim of cup and glanced out the green curtained window, noting that the rain had finally stopped although the skies remained grey and forbidding. Aside from his collar being damp, his shoes squeaking, and some random streaks of wet on the dark material of his pants, he had escaped the deluge relatively unscathed. Couldn't say the same thing about Gage, though...he hadn't missed the fact that there had been no helmet on the rain drenched dark head as they were loading the victim into the ambulance. Just what was it with Johnny and his helmets, anyway? That was the third time this shift that hunk of protective plastic had left the kid's head in the middle of a rescue.
It also hadn't escaped his notice that Gage had flung his headgear to the floorboard in that crumpled car. So either he had a short fuse or his impatience wasn't easily controlled in stressful situations. DeSoto was very curious as to the reason behind that abrupt action; he wondered if he should bring that and the helmet abandonment to John's attention. He definitely wasn't a probie and so there was absolutely no reason for that bit of juvenile action.
Roy grimaced, realizing that if one of his older partners had verbally slapped him down for something like that their partnership, if not his career, probably would have ended that shift. He recalled quite vividly how his own temper had burned hot and fast in high school and those several mandatory years he had spent in the army. Few people knew of it because by the time his probation period had been over with the fire department, marriage and job experience had quickly dampened the fiery inferno to a manageable roar. So yes, been there, done that…..so if maybe a bit of a temper was behind Gage's actions, he completely understood it. After all, his own little blowup with Dr. Brackett this morning had been a carefully controlled, tiny ember that he had purposefully allowed to escape; he had needed to vent his anger and frustration at the way Brackett was verbally targeting his new partner. He had no idea what the problem was and neither one of them seemed to want to enlighten him. The tension that swirled around those two when they were together was so thick that it was a breath taking experience, and he didn't mean that in a good way.
So no, that wasn't the way to approach the problem. He sat upright in the plastic chair and stretched his arms up over his head, feeling the satisfying pull of tired muscles. He immediately slumped back into his former position, however; he propped up an elbow on the table and dropped his head into his cupped palm. A parade of possible actions floated through his mind and he dismissed them all, his free hand rubbing against the smooth plain of the Formica surface in an irritated motion.
The best thing, he finally concluded, would be to quit thinking and acting like he was Gage's boss, because he was not. He was only senior to him because he had more time in on the job, not because he was a better firefighter or a more experienced paramedic. The helmet thing, well, he would just bring that up in a teasing remark and see what his partner's response would be; he would react to that accordingly. And the tossing of the helmet had been done only in the sight of an unconscious victim, so DeSoto was pretty sure the brief display of anger or impatience or whatever it had been wouldn't have occurred if John thought it was being witnessed by a civilian. Yes, the medics were responsible for each other, and maybe Roy did have the greater accountability of the pair, but it didn't extend to treating his younger partner like a kid brother instead of the professional that he clearly was.
This time the expression on Roy's face was a pleased one; he lifted his suddenly lighter head and savored a long draught of the still warm brew in his mug. Flicking a glance at his watch, he decided that he would give Ann a call and let her know that he was fine, just waiting on transport. C shift was probably lazing around the station, glad for the delayed start of their shift. Or maybe they were chafing at the bit, annoyed at the dearth of vehicles in the station and eager to feel that first rush of adrenaline when the tones sounded their anxious cry. It would sound insensitive to an outsider, but for a lot of the guys the bigger the fire the better they liked it. While Roy didn't count himself as part of that adrenaline junkie group now, he had to admit that in the beginning of his firefighting career he had often found himself listening to the tones and hoping for something spectacular.
Perhaps it was the challenge of man battling the fiery beast, or the heart pounding fear as you crawled through the pits of hell on your belly and emerged unscathed or slightly singed on the other side; whatever the reason, it was something that a lot of the men never got over. It was what drove them and for some, why they had chosen that profession in the first place. He pondered for a moment the question of how many of the guys on his new shift fell into that stress craving group, or hovered on the edge of it. There hadn't been any verbal indication yet from any of the men, his partner included, but sometimes there never was. Ultimately it showed in their actions by how aggressively they charged towards danger and possible death.
Shaking his head, he stretched up once again. This time he rose completely to his feet and headed for the door, directing his thoughts back to the phone call he wanted to make. Speculations about the new crew could wait. He stopped just in time when the door opened towards him and disclosed Dixie McCall, carrying her own cup of black liquid.
"Why, Roy!" She exclaimed in surprise and genuine affection. She patted his arm and bee lined to the couch pushed up against the wall and underneath the window. She dropped into it with a relieved grunt, balancing the full cup with experienced ease. "I didn't see you come in and I haven't been monitoring the radio at all this morning. Were you the squad with the accident victim?"
Moving back to the table, the blue uniformed man set the almost drained cup down. "Yeah, that was us. Has Johnny come in yet? He had a follow up call on the same incident while I was transporting."
Opening her eyes, the head nurse hummed an appreciative sigh and lowered the much needed vessel of caffeine from her lips. "No, I haven't seen him, but I've been darting in and out of treatment rooms for the past two, no, make that four, hours nonstop. For some odd reason, all of the Saturday night emergencies rolled themselves over to this morning. Aren't people supposed to be in church on a fine, damp Sunday morning like this?"
"I think that's where our guy was headed when he got hit; I believe that's what he said," Roy mused, trying to recall the mumbled words. The poor guy had gotten more coherent the closer they had gotten to the hospital but he hadn't yet progressed to the point of being able to string more than two words together. They had simply run out of time for better communication.
"You know, Roy, maybe John did come in. Thinking about it, I did see two firefighters in their gear rounding the corner as I slipped into one of the treatment rooms."
"Two, huh," Roy responded, a dart of unease stabbing through him. Two usually meant someone was in need of attention, just like his own early morning visit to the antiseptic halls with Chet.
Dixie studied DeSoto thoughtfully, hearing in those two words the underlying concern. "You and Johnny getting along pretty good?"
Roy flashed a quick smile before taking his mug over to the sink. He looked back over his shoulder at her as he ran water into it. "Yeah, we are. At least I think we are…"
He turned off the tap and slowly turned around, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands into his front pockets. He regarded Dixie with a serious expression for a moment before pushing off the counter and striding purposefully towards the exit. "He's a good man, John Gage, and yes, we make a good team. I'm going to go check to see if that was him out there."
Hand on the door, he paused and cocked his head at the nurse, who was shaking a cigarette out of the box and had a lighter at the ready in her other hand. "Dixie, how long have you and John known each other?"
"Oh, I don't know, quite a while I suppose. Why do you ask?" She leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs and raising the now lit cigarette to her lips.
Roy stared at her a moment, struck silent by the vision before him. In the few months that he had known her, the image in his mind of Dixie McCall had been of a strong woman - highly professional and caring in her job, and sometimes wickedly funny in her comments. He had never once imagined her as he was seeing her now. He could easily imagine her in an evening gown, cigarette in hand, posed across the top of a piano in a fancy nightclub like some of those black and white movies from the forties. He briefly wondered if she could sing, and cleared his throat nervously as he tried to force his fluttering flight of imagination back to earth.
"Uh, no reason."
Dixie exhaled a puff of smoke, and looked at him curiously, no doubt thinking he had lost his marbles. She dropped her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. "Well now Roy, if you really want to know the answer to that question, I suggest you ask Johnny."
Roy shuffled his feet and ducked his head in embarrassment. He decided that there was no way to save this awkward conversation and opted to make a hasty retreat. "See ya later, Dix."
He shot out of the room, almost colliding with an orderly pushing an empty wheelchair. He apologized, skirted around the man, and quickly headed for the base station. He recognized the older, white garbed lady behind the desk as Nurse Jacobs, and hoped she could shed some light on the whereabouts of his delayed partner. Of course that depended on whether or not he could frame a coherent sentence or not. He had just acted like the biggest kind of fool in front of Dixie McCall, and hadn't really even gotten an answer to his question. If anything, he was even more intrigued, especially after the teasing answer she had given. He had thought that John didn't really know the head nurse; he had asked DeSoto quite a few questions about Dix and Dr. Brackett while on one of their brief breaks during paramedic classes. But then Miss McCall had thrown Gage a birthday party, why would she do that if she barely knew the man? Yes, he knew the gala was also a reason to gather all of the supporters of the Wedsworth Townsend Act, but still!
~eeeEEEeee~
Dixie enjoyed her cigarette for a few more minutes before setting it on the edge of the glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of her. She took a little longer to savor the coffee, glad for the silence in the room and barely noticing the blaring, overhead pages that tried to shatter the illusion of stillness within her little sanctuary. She stared at Roy's forgotten turnout coat without really seeing it, her thoughts galloping.
She had to admit she was tired, just plain tired. Getting a phone call at four in the morning asking her to come in early wasn't unusual, or usually annoying; it was part of her job after all. But this time it WAS bothering her, and if she wasn't careful it was going to bleed over into her work. She'd worked a few days like this where it had been difficult to make it through the shift - usually after a traumatic case in the ER. This time, however, it hadn't been a single occurrence that had dropped her into a fog of indifference. If she was really being honest with herself, it had been a whole month of little things piling up and snowballing into an avalanche of monumental proportions.
She supposed it had all started when she rode along with the paramedics and experienced firsthand their jobs. The adrenalin rush, the thrill of watching the rescues and even participating in a few had heightened her awareness of the physical side of their job. Never mind that the first and final rescue she had participated in with the 51 pair had almost been the last moment of her life. She could only blame herself for stepping over the line, jumping really, into a situation that she hadn't been trained for. Lying in her room after Kel had finally delivered the promised pain remedy and she was finally feeling some relief from the pounding headache, she had realized that even with that stunt she had pulled, she had enjoyed those ride alongs.
She had been perfectly content with her career before that point in time; she was pleased with herself in having achieved her goal of nursing supervisor. She enjoyed the often frenzied pace and, most of the time, really appreciated the many different people that graced the halls. She couldn't possibly be bored with her hard won position already, could she?
Dixie sighed and sipped her coffee. She wasn't being delusional; she had no grand thoughts of joining the fire department and becoming a paramedic. Although if she was a few years younger, or if the program had begun ten years earlier…she allowed herself a wistful smile. Maybe it was just some kind of midlife crisis thing she was wallowing in. Instead of going out and buying a hot rod, she wanted to climb into teetering cars or shock patients on the sides of buildings while dangling from a rope. The smile turned into a giggle as she visualized it and she leaned forward to set down her mug, shaking her head in disbelief. Well, that was one path she wasn't going to attempt; she would have to live it through the stories of their paramedics.
Thinking about those impossibly young men out there defying all odds to do their job sobered her. She had championed the paramedic program, fought hard for it in fact. She still wholeheartedly believed in it, but was beginning to think that these guys already had a lot on their plates. They were firemen, rescue men, and were now adding another highly responsible duty to their repertoire. Sure it weeded out the men who couldn't juggle all those responsibilities and keep them aloft, but maybe it was asking a lot of these guys. Plus there was no added incentive to take the program and keep up with the certification; that might stop the men who weren't serious about it but it would also keep out those who really were and couldn't justify taking the extra time. These usually were the men with families, or the ones that had to work a second job to bring in extra income.
So what was the answer to that? In Dixie's mind there was a simple solution that involved splitting off the paramedics into their own group. Equip the fire department with their own ambulances and have the paramedics respond separately to incidents, leaving the rescue men to handle the physical aspects of the calls – that had been her first and right now, her only solution. Of course the added advantage to that would be opening up the field to women; Dixie allowed herself a quick satisfied, cat that licked the cream, smile. Well, it made sense, didn't it? Why would the fire department have their highly trained rescue men also be medics? What happened if the pair was involved in a rescue within a burning building and a victim outside had a heart attack? Was the captain expected to take vitals and make the decision to start chest compressions and rescue breathing? Were they even trained to do that?
Unable to answer her own questions, she picked up the cigarette and squashed it out. Picking up her coffee mug, she finished it off. She held it for a moment in both hands, staring into the tiny swirl of liquid left, wondering what to do about her growing unhappiness with her job. Maybe it was a simple matter of taking a vacation and enjoying a distracting change of scenery, or pulling her work addicted friend away for a long weekend if they could get their schedules to match up.
Thinking about Kelly Brackett brought another upward tilt to her lips. She had banished him to his office for a nap after putting up with his grumpiness for an hour longer then she should have; he had snapped at one of her new nurses and she in turn had treated him to an icy silence until they had finished with the patient. As soon as they were alone in the treatment room, Kelly had thrown up his hands in surrender and stopped her angry words with a sheepish smile.
"Sorry Dix, I know that was out of line. I'll apologize to her in a minute…" he paused as she laid a hand on his arm and looked at him in concern.
"I think you're running on steam, Dr. Brackett. How long have you been on?"
He had run a tired hand over his face, slumping in weariness against the exam table. "Too long I suppose, although it didn't really get busy until after midnight. My head is telling me I've had enough…rotten headache…"
"Then you have a choice, either go home or take a long break in your office. And Kel, I mean a long nap, not sitting behind your desk catching up on paperwork."
"A long nap it is then, since I have an appointment later this morning," he had finally conceded with obvious reluctance. After obtaining a promise from her to wake him up by ten, he had followed her out of the room and down the hall to his office. She had made sure he had removed his lab coat and shoes, loosened his tie, and was comfortably laid out on the couch before she had exited the room. She had firmly locked the knob and closed the door behind her. She had checked on him once, quietly unlocking the door with the key on her ring and poking her head in. He had been in deep slumber, still on his back and snoring lightly.
Dixie sighed, the soft sound a concoction of contentment, longing, and restlessness. She hauled herself to her feet, wondering if Roy had found his partner or if Johnny was still AWOL. She washed the mugs abandoned in the sink, biting her lip as she considered the two paramedics and Roy's comments from earlier. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but those two mismatched young men were her favorites. She could put up with just about anything from them, especially high strung and intense Johnny Gage, as long as they continued to do their job the way they were doing it.
That being said, she knew something had transpired between Kelly and Roy in the wee hours of the morning. She hadn't got the details yet, but it was only a matter of time. She was also quite aware of the escalating tension and distrust between the doctor and the younger medic of the pair. It was a very fine line she needed to walk between all of the paramedics assigned to their hospital and her, well, boyfriend; an invisible mark that she was very tired of treading softly on. Another reason, perhaps, that she was disillusioned with her environment and the people within it.
"I guess that's it in a nutshell," she whispered softly to the empty room, drying the mugs with sure movements. "Trying to be a referee between Kel who should be completely on board with the excellent job the guys are doing, and those fire boys who in their own way are arrogant and just a bit too big for their britches...add that to my sudden urge for excitement and you have a dame who is just not satisfied with anything!"
Tossing the towel over the mugs in an irritated gesture, Dixie glided to the door in her rubber soled shoes, scooping up the turnout coat on her way. She hesitated at the threshold, debating with herself over her declaration. She hadn't missed the odd look DeSoto had thrown her before he had shot clumsily out the door. Years of experience with patients and she had known exactly what that questioning and puzzled look had implied.
If he only knew how much truth there was in it …she had collapsed in her bed at two in the morning after a satisfying evening spent at a club rekindling her first love; not a very well planned move considering that she was scheduled to be at work four hours later. So of course she was exhausted after only getting two hours of sleep instead of the anticipated four hours! She had tasted a bit of her past, and had enjoyed it immensely. So add that to her growing list of changes in her life, and who knows, maybe it would satisfy her craving for excitement and difference. Right now, though, she had a job to get back to, a job that she really did love. Plus there was a new friend that needed assurance that his partner was doing ok and hopefully lurking somewhere in the depths of the hospital. That she could take care of, with confidence and her usual effectiveness, no matter how tired she felt.
~eeeEEEeee~
"No, sorry Roy, I haven't seen Johnny or any other firefighter for that matter," Nurse Jacobs replied in some distraction, looking up from the pile of forms stacked in front of her to give Roy a tiny smile. She immediately dropped her attention back to the papers, a frown creasing her forehead as she flipped through them. "I don't see any supply forms signed by him…."
"No, I did that. Miss McCall thought that she saw Johnny and one of our other men together, so maybe one of them needed to be checked out?"
The nurse flung out her hands, indicating the frantic activity around them. "At this moment, I am truly not sure where anyone is. Check at the admitting desk; she may have paperwork or know if they have been through."
Roy thanked her and stepped backwards, trying to dodge the many people flowing both ways down the hallway. He flattened himself against the green hued wall for a moment, thankful that it hadn't been that busy earlier. He decided to find a phone out of the line of traffic and update JoAnne. He couldn't very well poke his head into every treatment rooms to make sure Gage and one of the guys wasn't occupying one of them. He would check on his partner's status via HT after talking to his wife; that appeared to be the logical course of action for the moment since even from here he could see that the admitting desk had a large group of civilians clustered about it.
He headed for the pay phone located by Brackett's office and wondered whether the outspoken doctor was still on duty. He hadn't seen him gracing the frenzied corridors this trip, but that didn't mean much. He could have walked right by him and not even noticed, with all the white clothing clad employees that were dashing about - nurses, the orderlies, and of course the interns and physicians. He was kinda hoping that he would see the big man, as John had sarcastically called him, lurking about the Emergency Room. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was actually looking forward to another confrontation with Kelly Brackett. So maybe his volcanic temper wasn't completely extinguished yet by several years of marriage to a very level headed, understanding woman (most of the time, anyways), but at least he had good control over it. Although, he should probably figure out what was transpiring between his partner and Brackett before he jumped to Johnny's defense again. And more importantly, get a handle on whether or not Johnny would want him to...
He felt his blood pressure settle down as he realized he already knew the answer to that question. Recalling John's earlier spoken words about "buttinskis", he was pretty sure that would apply to someone trying to fight his battles for him. Sighing a little in disappointment, DeSoto decided he needed another direction in which to shoot his sometimes fierce emotions, now that the fight for the paramedic program was over.
Pushing all the random thoughts away, he looked towards Brackett's office. Luckily the pay phone was vacant and Desoto found a dime in his pocket and fed it into the slot. He started to turn his back on the waiting room to gain some privacy; realizing he wouldn't be able to see John or anyone else he rotated back around and covered his free ear with his hand to block out some of the noise.
JoAnne answered on the third ring, and Roy quickly squashed down the panic that colored her voice when he unthinkingly started his first sentence with, "Hi Jo, I'm at the hospital."
After apologizing, he explained his delay and asked about any plans or appointments that he needed to be aware of for his days off. Next he brought up the idea of a barbecue on his next weekend off; Jo responded eagerly to this suggestion and immediately started offering suggestions for food, beverages, and games for both adults and children. Roy laughed, settling a shoulder into the wall as he relaxed, and gave her the go ahead to plan the whole thing. They talked, most of the conversation monopolized by his excited wife, until the operator broke in with a request for another coin. He reluctantly broke off the call and swung the HT from his hand as he observed the overflowing waiting room.
There were people everywhere; the uncomfortable chairs were fully occupied and the walls were decorated with the citizens of Los Angeles in various positions – standing, slouching, or sitting. Amazingly, most of the crowd seemed patient or resigned to the lengthy waiting times; the only exception seemed to be several agitated folks clustered at the admitting desk who were drawing attention to themselves with their raised voices. The nurse handling the desk seemed to have it all under control, however; less than a minute elapsed before the loud racket diminished and the future patients exited the desk and disappeared back into the waiting pool of humanity.
Impressed with the admitting nurse's handling of the situation, DeSoto turned his head just in time to see her boss heading towards him with his turnout coat trailing from her hand. He took the damp garment from her with an apology, and added a quick word of praise for the unflappable lady manning the workstation.
"Yes, she's quite a gem, even in the worst possible situations," Dixie replied, fishing in her pocket and pulling out a key ring. She inserted the key into the lock on Dr. Brackett's office door and hesitated. "Maybe I should introduce Nancy to Johnny…..speaking of him, have you located your partner in crime yet?"
"No, I'm going to check in with Captain Hammer right now," Roy answered, pulling nervously on the antenna and wondering if he had missed pertinent radio chatter, with his complacent attitude and straying attention.
Dixie opened the door and held up a cautioning finger. "Give me just a minute, Roy, and I'll check to see if he's here before you make that call."
He nodded in understanding and stepped back, eyes straying over the room once again. He moved further away so that he could see down the hallway but also to give Dix some privacy in whatever she was doing in Dr. Brackett's office. Whatever it was didn't take long as she popped back out only a moment later, closing the door gently behind her and breezing right by him, clearly expecting him to follow. He did.
~eeeEEEeee~
"Good grief," Chet Kelly complained, barely escaping an empty gurney flying by them as he tried to maneuver the stumbling Gage around the obstacles. "Where are we supposed to go?"
"Men's room," the still dripping paramedic replied, turning down a quieter hallway and pointing towards the universal sign mounted on the wall towards the end of the dead end corridor.
"What for?" Kelly griped, wishing that he had left his heavy coat in the squad. "Aren't you wet enough already?"
Johnny didn't bother to reply; he simply made a face of disgust and trudged unerringly towards his target, licking his lips and hoping he would make it in time.
"Oh….yeah, I get it, well, look, let me take your coat and I'll find someone while you clean up, ok?"
He helped Gage unfasten and then pull off his coat. The other man gave him a weak smile of thanks then bolted off, shouldering the door open and disappearing within. Chet hesitated, and then headed back towards the main hallway, stopping to shrug off his own odor emitting garment. He wrinkled up his nose at the wet, smoky smell, shrugged, and followed the wet footprints with a turnout dangling over each arm. Spying a white garbed man coming off the elevator, clipboard in hand and stethoscope dangling from his neck, he veered off course.
"Hey, Doc!"
~TBC~
A/N – sorry about the delay on this story; Dixie took over the chapter and was refusing to let it go! Thank you for your support and feedback!
