Chapter 15

Roy DeSoto entered the swooshing doors of the Emergency entrance, his sandaled feet automatically following the path they used when they brought in a patient. He had Johnny's blue uniform jacket slung over his arm and he was dressed in his civvies. He couldn't help but glance about with slightly narrowed eyes, hoping that this time he would meet up with Kelly Brackett. He still had a sour taste in his mouth as he recalled his early morning encounter with the doctor, and after quite a few hours to mull over the situation, was more than ready to go toe to toe with his new partner's nemesis, no matter what Gage would think of it. He knew he had defended Johnny earlier, but it still gnawed at him; he should have been more aggressive with his words, instead of holding back. He shook his head and continued forward at a faster walk.

Marco Lopez, following a step or two behind, picked up his pace to keep up with the longer legged paramedic. He was also garbed in his street clothes; only his feet were shod in white tennis shoes that made no sound on the newly clean linoleum tiles of the floor. Even though it had been Chet who had come up with the plan for picking up Gage, he'd had to beg off when he remembered his promise to help his sister move. Marco, who had been heading out of the locker room, had overheard Chet's words and volunteered to assist.

Marco looked around with interest, thankfully never having been in this part of the hospital before. He'd been treated for smoke inhalation several times, and once for dehydration, but that had been over at St. Francis. Of course since his family was so huge, he'd been all over various parts of that hospital at one time or another and upstairs in this one, just never as a patient.

Rampart Emergency looked like it was laid out similar to St. Francis. What was blatantly different and interested Marco the most however, was the new paramedic base station. He hadn't had the chance to see it yet, in any of the three hospitals in their area of the county that had it, and had to admit he was curious. While he had no desire to join the brand new program, he still wanted to see how the whole thing worked.

Roy seemed to be reading his mind, for he paused at a desk next to where a nurse and an older man were standing. The distinguished looking gentleman, his sliver grey hair neatly combed, was pulling a crisply starched white lab coat over his equally pressed pink dress shirt while studying white tape spitting from a blue machine near them. The nurse was scribbling something on a single sheet of paper affixed to a metal clipboard, listening with interest to the conversation emitting from the radio unit.

"10-4, Rescue 36, sinus rhythm confirmed, is the ambulance there?" The doctor asked, flicking a switch on the machine and looking over at the nurse. He nodded as the affirmative reply came through the radio, advised 36s to transport immediately and shut off another switch on the tape machine that was apparently recording the call. He ripped the paper from what Marco assumed was the EKG machine, rolled it neatly and handed the tight scroll of paper to the nurse.

"Well hello Roy, you just coming off shift, or is it your day off?" He asked, smiling warmly at the out of uniform paramedic.

"A little of both, Doc, just came off shift and starting my days off. This is Marco Lopez, one of the guys on our crew. Marco, this Doctor Joe Early."

The men shook hands and exchanged normal pleasantries before Joe turned back to Roy. "So what brings you by the hospital? I'm assuming, since you're both coming off shift, that your next step would be to head home for some sleep. At least that's my understanding of how most of you fellows work those odd schedules."

DeSoto nodded his head and fiddled with the black knob of the large rolodex sitting on the corner of the desk. "Right, that's the way we usually do it. We're here to pick up John Gage; they kept him for a few hours to get some fluids in him. Do you know if he's ready?"

"Sorry Roy, just came on myself, and haven't made it past the radio yet," Early replied, fingering the stethoscope hanging out of his lab coat pocket. He shrugged and threw up a hand in resignation when the beige phone on the wall rang. Excusing himself, he stepped over to answer it and the firemen continued down the hall.

"So that's what it looks like," Marco mused, once again hastening his pace to keep up with the other man's longer stride. "It's always nice to see what you're hearing."

Roy slowed and cast a puzzled glance in the lineman's direction. "What?"

"Well, we've been out on a few incidents with you guys, and heard your calls back and forth between here and wherever you're at, and somehow I just couldn't imagine how this whole setup looked."

"Yeah, it's a pretty nifty system they got there, especially with the biophone and all. It sure beats having to find a land line when you're in the middle of nowhere."

Lopez nodded in agreement and understanding; technology was an amazing thing. They rounded a corner and almost ran into a nurse.

"Whoa there!" She exclaimed, throwing up a hand to keep body parts from colliding.

Roy made introductions once again, and Marco met the woman he had heard the paramedics talking about; the daring one who had inadvertently pushed Kelly Brackett into a decision to support their program. He smiled at her, pleased to finally meet her. He thought she was beautiful, and also agreed silently to the firehouse gossip that she was dating Brackett. Brackett was the only person from this hospital that he had met before today and that had only been because the doctor stopped by the station to look over the medical gear in the rescue truck. The guy had struck him as a very intelligent man, and there was no way a man that smart wouldn't date a lady this pretty, feisty, and smart to boot.

A brief conversation ensued, Dixie McCall updated them on Gage, asked Roy to remind him that she would drop off his prescription after her shift, and then hurried on her way to answer the page bleating from the loudspeaker. The men continued a short distance down the hall and Roy led the way into a room with a swinging door. A lot of swinging doors in these public places, Marco mused, thinking of all the ones in their station. He looked around the small room and didn't see anyone.

"Johnny?" Roy asked, pausing by the exam table that had a couple of blankets piled on it.

There was a thunk behind the privacy screen in the corner and a dark head appeared around the edge of it. The rest of Gage appeared holding a shoe in one hand and the other shoe untied on his foot.

"Hey guys," he murmured, relief evident in his voice. He shuffled over to them, and leaned against the table to stuff his sock clad foot into the shoe. "Thanks for the ride…"

"Sure no problem," Roy answered, reaching out a hand to steady him as he tilted ominously while bending down to lace up the ties. "Chet forgot he promised his sister help in moving, so Marco volunteered to help out."

Johnny straightened up slowly and favored the lineman with a tiny, wary smile. "That's great, thanks Marco."

"How did your uniform get dry?" DeSoto asked, wondering about the feel of the dry material under his fingers when he had grabbed his upper arm.

"You know, there's really something to be said about being on good terms with the head nurse," he responded, and this time the smile was bigger. He shrugged into the jacket Roy draped over his shoulders and zipped it up. Watching him snug the collar up, Marco decided that he must be still chilled from his dunking in the canal. Then again, he had to fight off a shiver of his own in the frigid temperature of the exam room.

Johnny flipped his hand toward the door. "Can we get out of here?"

Roy snickered in response to both of Gage's comments and led the way out of the room. The three firefighters strolled down the hallway, Roy acknowledging several nurses and interns, John silent, and Lopez still marveling at the fairly new department. Stepping outside through the automatic doors, they moved aside to allow a gurney being pushed by two ambulance attendants pass by. Marco noticed the angry sneers sent the paramedics' way by both of the uniformed men, and wondered what had warranted the nasty looks.

"What's with those guys?" He asked curiously, catching up to his crewmates and walking abreast of them. "If looks could kill, you'd be dead right now."

Johnny turned his head to look back over his shoulder at the men who had already disappeared into the sterile depths of the hospital; DeSoto didn't turn so apparently he had noticed the expressions on those men's faces.

"They think we're trying to take their jobs," he answered, stopping beside the tail light of his Porsche. "I'll let Johnny explain that one to you….how about I follow you since I don't know where you live."

"Sure. My gear, is it still back at the station?" John asked.

"It's in your van amigo, Roy packed up your stuff for you when he got your keys out of your locker," Marco explained, going over to the driver's door of Johnny's Volkswagen camper which was parked next to his partner's sports car. "You don't mind me driving, do you?"

"No, no, go ahead." Johnny slowly made his way to the other side of his off white bus and gingerly climbed in. His bag was indeed on the floor between the seats, behind the floor shift that Marco was now trying to work into reverse.

"Sticks a little," he apologized, as it took Marco two tries to slide it fully into reverse.

"No problem, a heck of a lot easier to shift then Chet's van!" The lineman exclaimed with a grin, backing out of the space and getting the VW into first with no problem. Johnny gave him directions, than settled back into his seat as they headed towards his apartment.

After a moment's silence, Lopez let his curiosity get the best of him and decided to ask about the attendants' baleful glares. First he checked his mirror to see if DeSoto was behind them and was startled when Gage cleared his throat and broke the quiet first.

"I wanted to thank you for, you know, cleaning up my stuff for me after that mud run," he began, glancing over at him and then shifting his attention back out the window. He paused, wiggling in his seat. "And I think I was rude to you when you, well, when you were trying to talk to me on the engine…at least what I can remember of the ride."

He laughed nervously and seemed to be considering the sky overhead, which was beginning to clear of the grey clouds. "So, sorry about that …"

Marco nodded, not sure why John was apologizing but deciding that further conversation about that wet ride back to the station was pointless. He'd put it out of his mind hours ago, and since it seemed like it was quite an effort for the younger man to even talk about it, why bother?

"It's all good, John, forget about it." Flipping the blinker, he changed lanes and then downshifted as he approached a red light. He glanced sideways for a second, noting the flash of relief. "Next right, correct?"

"Yeah, it's the quickest way." He paused for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts. "So, did they ever find the driver of that car that disappeared down the canal?"

Lopez grimaced. The stupidity of drivers never ceased to amaze him; they had all known as soon as Gage found the car empty that unless it had flown into the canal by itself there was going to be a very slim chance of survival for any of the occupants. They had received the expected news after returning to the station.

"Yes, downstream less than a half mile away. The guy you and Roy pulled out of that Pinto apparently got ran off the road by the hombre in the Charger, so he's in the clear."

Johnny started to shake his head, thought better of it, and instead sighed out a noise that pretty much matched the face Marco had made a second earlier. The lineman took the turn that Gage indicated with a wave of his hand and wondered why people did the stupid things they did. They might never know the reason behind the actions of the driver of the Dodge and while the sheriff's department would figure out some of it by witness statements and evidence, the information would probably never make it to their station unless someone had a connection over there. It really was a tough way to end their shift.

Marco shot another look sideways, curious to how the baby of their crew was absorbing the news. Aside from a convulsive swallow, Johnny's face remained emotionless, blank really. His eyes were half shuttered against the light that had started to filter in through the windshield once they had turned. He must have felt the lineman's curious stare because he casually turned his head away to stare out his window, effectively blocking any further scrutiny.

Focusing back on the congested traffic in front of them, Lopez mulled over what he knew of Gage. He wasn't sure how long he had been with the fire department; he only knew from a comment Hammer had made that Gage had the least time in on the job of everyone in the station and also had the dubious honor of being the youngest. Except for Chet he really didn't know anything about the guys on his shift, or any of the other men in the new station. Probably had met or worked with a few in the past, but aside from a couple of names he didn't remember much about them. There was also the inevitable gossip and stories that flew around but how much of that was true was questionable, especially the further it flew from its source. But since Johnny was a rescue man which required additional training, Lopez figured he had at least two years on the job and probably closer to three by the way he handled himself. He exuded confidence, determination, a whole hell of a lot of seriousness, and a bit of cockiness that reminded Marco of himself when he had been that age.

Well, cockiness was an okay thing, at least in his book. He was certain that every man that had ever applied to be a firefighter and made it through the training deserved to carry that bit of well-earned swagger. This wasn't a job for the faint of heart, or anyone lacking in physical strength. And to top it all off, they all had to be strong hearted and equally tenacious in their minds. You had to be able to go home at the end of the shift and turn everything off - just let the faint memory of it touch you to keep yourself human. Otherwise, it would tear you apart.

He had seen firsthand the dangers of taking everything to heart, thinking and analyzing every little detail about a bad fire or multi car pileup until it destroyed you, leaving nothing but a flesh and blood shell. Sure there were ways to cover and keep pushing it back, like the method he had used until it had caught him and nearly destroyed him. He had witnessed a good friend bury his growing horror in a bottle after every shift; while he was now a recovering alcoholic he no longer worked in the profession he had loved.

Thinking about each of the men assigned to their shift, Lopez could only hope they were all strong enough to handle everything that was thrown their way. Since Gage was the man with the least time on the job, that meant they all had a quite a bit of time in, so hopefully that was a good indicator of their strength.

Captain Hammer, well, he seemed a very calm and competent leader. The only thing about him that bothered Lopez was that he displayed very little emotion and maybe was just a little too calm; was the mostly blank faced man holding in all of his joys and sorrows? If that was so, it would mean that at some time the dam was going to burst and whether or not he survived it remained to be seen. Marco could only hope that it was their Cap's coping defense and that the face he retained at work was only used during poker games on his time off. He also hoped after they had worked together for a while that Hammer would join them off duty on occasion. That was the one thing he had heard about their new boss; he hadn't socialized much with any of his prior crews. And so far he had turned down the several casual invitations he and Chet had extended to him. Of course both little excursions had been to their favorite watering hole to play pool and throw back a few so maybe that was the problem. Cap was married after all and sometimes that was a big no-no with the wives. He would have to think of a more family friendly activity and see how that turned out.

Then there was the other married man on the engine crew - Mike Stoker. He was truly an enigma as far as the lineman was concerned. Since he had met the engineer, he was pretty sure could take all the words he had spoken, mix them into a Scrabble game, and be hard pressed to come up with any words of a decent length. You couldn't help but wonder what little tidbits of deep knowledge were hiding behind that closed mouth because you sure didn't advance as far as Mike had without gathering both book knowledge and common sense along the way. The guy was probably a walking fountain of information and experience; Marco just wasn't sure how to turn on the words. It wasn't as if he wanted a gusher flowing out of him, just a trickle would do.

Now since Stoker was still a newlywed, he wasn't expected to socialize with the other men – yet. They had kiddingly invited him those same two times not expecting an affirmative response; he had not disappointed them with his "sorry, no" answer but had surprised Marco a bit with the wink and shy smile that had followed as he had slid on his silver wedding ring that he kept in his locker during shift. The older man had a feeling that when Mike did join them, his wife would be tagging along. It was rumored that the taciturn man had met his wife while ploughing his dune buggy through the sands of Los Angeles and now that he was married, continued with his outings to the beach and other places with his wife right beside him. Marco couldn't wait to meet Mrs. Stoker and hear the story of how they had met and how she communicated with him.

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as they got caught in traffic and began a slow creep down the road. He heard Gage shifting just as restlessly in his seat and the metal click of the glove box shutting; he had retrieved and donned his aviator shaped sunglasses. The sun that had been playing peek a boo behind the grey clouds for the last hour had finally made a full appearance and was flooding through the van's windshield with its usual morning brilliance.

Cranking down the window, he stuck his head out and scanned the sky. The clouds were sliding away, promising good weather for their days off. If they ever got to enjoy them, that is. The traffic was now stopped completely; there had to be at least fifteen vehicles ahead of them in their lane before the traffic light. Marco pulled his head back in and looked over at his passenger, wincing a bit as the bright light illuminated the rainbow of colors splashing down the side of his face. Having been on the receiving end of an errant hose a few times, Lopez had a deep sympathy for the aches and pains the other man must be feeling right now.

He started to say something sympathetic about the bruises and realized if Gage was like all the other guys he had ever worked with, soft words and commiserating would not go over well at all. They were all macho firemen after all, and while they might encourage or welcome that kind of soothing sentiment from spouses or girlfriends, joking or even criticism was the only thing even remotely allowed from their crew mates. He decided to skip that whole avenue of dialogue and try a different route.

"So what's the story behind those ambulance guys? The ones that were giving you and Roy the dirty looks?" he asked, inching forward another several feet and noting that the traffic light had just turned red again and only two cars had made it through while green.

"Ignorance sums it up pretty well," John replied, completely serious in his answer. "They think we want their jobs."

"Oh…" Marco replied, mulling it over. Come to think of it, he had heard of some kind of animosity between the ambulance crews and the new paramedics, most of it if not all of it emanating from the men who seemed to think their jobs were at stake. "But the fire department, as far as I know, isn't going to get into the business of transporting patients…or are we?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I would say no. As far as those stretcher guys, who knows?" He hitched one shoulder up in a halfhearted shrug and gazed pensively out the front windshield, his thoughts straying somewhere else.

Lopez watched another two cars make it through the green light and a third one run it, barely missing being t-boned by the traffic beginning its flow the other direction. Beside him he heard the movements of Gage tensing up, then relaxing , as aside from squealing brakes and honking horns, the car darted away unscathed.

"Lucky idiot," the paramedic mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and tucking his chin down.

"Got that right," Marco agreed, rolling his window back up after a sideward slide of his eyes confirmed another shiver running the length of his crewmate's body. If the heating system in this van was anything like that of Chet's, then there was no point of even turning it on. He wondered again if Gage was simply feeling the after effects of a dunking in cold water, the thorough drenching of a chilling rain, and those few dives into the Dominguez Channel on his shift over at the other station. The guy looked like he didn't have an ounce of fat on him, after all. Or were those flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his brow, and those little quivers the symptoms of something else? With these delays, he had thought for sure that Johnny would have been passed out in his seat from exhaustion by now; working a double shift with only a couple of hours of asleep strewn here and there was a downright brain and body killer for any man, no matter how young they were. Yet if anything, Johnny looked like he was ready to jump out of his own vehicle and jog the rest of the way to his apartment. He appeared to have finally settled now, at least for a few minutes, but since they had left the parking lot he had been fidgeting in some small way or another, enough so that it was making Marco a bit edgy.

"Aren't you tired?" He finally asked as the movements began again. He resisted the very strong urge to reach across and hook the lap belt as Gage twisted sideways, stretched his legs out, and then pulled them back in raking his boot heels across the mat as he did. The legs stilled as the question was considered.

"Maybe too tired?" Johnny made a little nervous movement, the kind a horse makes when a fly settles on its skin, and trailed fingers down the side of his jaw. "I can't seem to shut my brain off."

He turned his head towards Marco and looked at him, although it was hard to tell where his eyes actually were because of the dark lenses. Marco figured he was staring right at his annoyed expression, though, because he looked embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," the medic murmured, planting his feet flat on the floor with heels touching the seat front, and folding his hands in his lap like a small, disobedient boy waiting to take his punishment.

Lopez frowned and did some seat squirming of his own, peeved that he hadn't hid his irritation better with a man he didn't know all that well. He usually had a lot more patience; one had to when they had a thousand nephews and nieces. He could blame it on the snail crawling traffic or the fact that he was starting to wind down, but they sure were feeble excuses for acting like he was Gage's father or something. Then again, why was the younger man being so, what, sensitive?

"Marco?" A soft voice interrupted his self-berating and the questions that were ping ponging through his grey matter. "You play poker?"

Ok, Gage must be pulling his leg or have a very short attention span to be able to jump a thousand miles in a different direction. Or worse, maybe he had heard something about his problem. Marco made sure his voice was calm before replying. "Sure, why?"

"Maybe you should grow a mustache…"

Marco's confusion met this statement; maybe Johnny was becoming delirious in his sleep deprived state. "A mustache, why?"

"To hide your tell, Lopez, it's like I can read your very thoughts in your upper lip." Johnny ran a finger across his own faintly shadowed upper lip; his mouth twitched in a smile.

"You've got to be kidding! No wonder those guys keep taking me! I mean, we play for peanuts, literally, but still! If I owned an elephant the poor thing would be starving!" Marco complained, laughing a bit at his own words to cover up the brief flare of panic that swept over him and just as quickly disappeared; he wondered if he would always have that reaction when anything to do with betting or gambling was mentioned.

Another quick peek towards Gage to see if he had noticed any more "telling" facial expressions revealed the passenger staring intently out his window, apparently done with his face reading, mind reading, or whatever the heck he was playing at. Lopez swallowed down his sigh of relief. There wouldn't be any need to volunteer the additional information about why he would only play for peanuts; betting those in a friendly weekly poker game with friends was as close as he planned on getting to any kind of gambling. That and of course the weird hands of cards they played at the station to determine "dish duty". Gambling was an addiction that had taken him a long time to admit to, seek help, and then overcome. All which had been accomplished with the help and strong support of his immediate family and several close friends. Even now, several years later, he still had to smash down the urge to pick up the phone and place a bet when something stressful occurred. It was facing the disappointment of these same loyal friends that stayed his hand, along with his own fierce determination not to give in to the demons.

"Looks like it's picking up a bit…." The casual comment interrupted his thoughts and the lineman acted accordingly; he drove the van forward, making it all the way to the light before having to stop again.

"You're worse than Roy, hitting all the red lights," Johnny complained, but his tone was teasing and Marco just nodded. There was no argument coming from him as it was true; but it was nice to know that there were other people in the world that had the same kind of "traffic light luck".

Thinking about DeSoto as they waited for this light cycle to run through, Marco wondered if he was as uncomplicated as he appeared. The other married man on the shift, he presented himself as hardworking, fairly calm, intelligent, and sometimes quiet. Just what they needed, another tight lipped man on the crew, Marco thought with a smirk, including himself in that category. So far the only guy that seemed to be able to carry on a conversation for more than a minute was Chet, and as his comments were often somewhere far out in left field, the silence was usually preferred.

He thought about what lay beneath Roy's placid demeanor. Could be anything, or for that matter nothing at all. He wasn't really that good at reading people but there appeared to be a current of emotion that ran beneath the surface of the other man. A couple of times it had seemed that Roy was holding back anger, or some strong feeling akin to that; he had obviously mastered the art of keeping whatever it was under control, at least on the job. Marco sincerely hoped he didn't take those bottled up feelings home with him and take them out on his family. But he really didn't look as if he was the type of guy to do something like that; he hadn't met his family yet but the few comments DeSoto had made about them had been full of pride and love. There was also the two or three phone calls in the station that he had answered that came from Roy's wife and she was friendly, outgoing, and clearly as pleased with their marriage as her husband was. So no, Lopez discarded that idea as quickly as it had occurred to him.

If only he could find Chet Kelly a woman like that, Marco mused. Then maybe, just maybe, he would be distracted from the little pranks he was about to begin once more. He hadn't actually confided to his shift mate that he was going to do so, but the Hispanic man was pretty sure he could read the signs. Kelly was definitely winding up to start something, and he was pretty certain that was what the something was. He really wished Chet would gain some confidence in his personal life; he had plenty while doing his job but seemed to only carry some of it with him when he left the station. Maybe not so much confidence, but insecurity or the need for attention was a good word to describe it. A late night confession after too many beers had led Chet to admit to his friend that dreaming up the pranks and pulling them off was his way of making his mark in the world; Marco personally believed that it went a little deeper than that, but of course that could have been the alcohol talking on either side! Whatever the case was, he counted Chet as one of his friends, a good friend if truth be told, and whatever help his fellow firefighter needed or didn't need, he would be right there beside him.

Watching the traffic slow and stop the other way, Lopez couldn't help but smile when their little caravan of two finally got the green light. As their next turn was only a quarter of a mile down the still congested road, it was less than five minutes before they made the turn, traveled another quick mile and reached the entrance to Johnny's apartment building. There appeared to be only three deep, weather faded red, brick constructed structures that made up this particular complex and judging by the windows the buildings were all four stories high. John directed him towards the right side and his designated sparking space within the paved lot that fronted all three of the apartments, forming a "U" shape. Marco coasted the van between the faded white lines and shut off the engine.

"Thanks for the lift, Marco," Gage said, twisting down and sideways to wrestle his bag out from between the seats. Lopez stayed him with a hand on his arm and Johnny looked up at him with his head tipped quizzically.

"Let me get it out of there; I kinda wedged it in so it wouldn't go anywhere," Marco apologized, holding out the keys. He didn't really want the bruised fireman hefting the heavy bag and sincerely hoped there was an elevator, because he was pretty sure Johnny said he lived on the fourth floor.

Johnny looked at him for a long moment through his dark lenses and straightened up, accepting the keys. "Ok, sure, have at it."

"What I want to know is, what exactly do you have in here?" Lopez grumbled, twisting the bag loose and dragging it up over the seat, pulling it after him and giving an exaggerated grunt as he exited the Volkswagen. He threw the bag up over his shoulder and met Gage on the sidewalk that fronted the parking spaces.

"Just the normal stuff, shoes and clothes, unless…." Johnny reached a hand up and felt the suspiciously bulging bag. "Oh, Roy must have tossed in the books I had stashed in my locker."

"I did, wasn't really sure what you wanted out of there," DeSoto admitted easily, coming up beside them, his sandals slapping on the cement, and smiling. "Are you going to start a library in the locker room?"

"Nah, I just like to read different stuff." Gage withdrew his hand and stepped back a step, giving Lopez space as he shifted the bag to a more comfortable position. The lineman gave a little wave for Johnny to precede him and followed him down the path that cut between two of the buildings. Roy trailed behind both of them, observing the area and wondering how much the rent was. While the grounds were neatly landscaped and the overall appearance of the whole area appeared well maintained, the buildings themselves seemed older with an antiquated feel to them.

"What kind of books do you read?" Marco asked curiously as they entered the building through a wide, medal door; Johnny used a key to open it. The place went up a notch in Roy's opinion as security was always good. He paused before entering to check out the recessed panel next to the door. The barely visible square contained a list of apartment numbers with buttons next to them; he assumed these were intercom buttons that linked to each rental unit. Probably the tenants could buzz in their visitors too, if the system was anything like the others he had seen.

"A little bit of everything…" DeSoto heard Johnny's voice floating away from him and he hastily darted through the door, making sure it closed and latched behind him.

He found himself in a decent sized space, carpeted in a slightly faded but clean rose print; it was the kind of floor covering that he could easily imagine in a Victorian parlor, not in a Los Angeles apartment building. But somehow it worked, maybe because of the flowered wallpaper covering the walls, the dark wide trim, and the very large, very ornate, and very gold chandelier hanging from the thankfully white tray ceiling. A hallway led off each side of the room, no doubt heading to the ground floor apartments. In the three foot wall space next to each door opening, a marble topped table and a red tufted chair took up residence.

An amused smile touching his lips, DeSoto spun in a slow circle to take in the rest of the room. A bank of mailboxes lined the wall facing the single elevator; narrow, un-curtained windows above the old fashioned gold fronted boxes flooded the entranceway with natural light. His crewmates were standing in front of the concealing, mahogany doors of the downward moving elevator. Gage was gazing blankly at some kind of palm plant, one of two that flanked the doors, while Marco was staring intently at Johnny.

"Fiction, non-fiction, cookbooks, how to manuals, and don't say all of the above either," Marco said with a smirk. It seemed that he was bent on getting to the bottom of John's interest in books.

"Nonfiction mostly, American history and stuff about other countries, I guess….." Gage answered slowly, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them through his shirt front. He shifted his attention from the tall plant to Lopez, than looked beyond him to his partner, who was still gazing about curiously.

"Kinda far out, huh?" Johnny asked, indicating the room with a sweep of his hand.

Roy nodded in agreement, smile still in place. "Yeah, far out, not something you would really expect to see."

He curbed any further conversation until they were all in the box and slowly ascending. "Is your apartment like that Victorian lobby down there?"

"Right…only I have more tassels, lots of crocheted antimacassars, a few of those fainting couches, and an absolutely incredible fireplace."

A strange noise came from the corner where Marco leaned, the bag resting momentarily between his white sneakered feet. Roy thought the lineman was awfully close to spitting out his tasty breakfast casserole as he choked out the word "antimacassar" between snorts of hilarity.

The doors opened onto the fourth floor before Marco had a chance to spray his breakfast onto the wood floor of the elevator; the two men followed Johnny out and down the carpeted hall to the end. He unlocked the door and flung it wide, waving them in ahead of him.

"Hey, you weren't kidding about the fireplace!" Roy exclaimed, zeroing in on the black mantel and fancifully carved legs of a fireplace situated in the middle of the living room wall. Windows flanked it on each side and Gage had set up a three shelf bookcase under each made of cement blocks and pine boards; the shelves were loaded with books. A strange looking chair, a loveseat that had a milk crate holding a ceramic lamp next to it, and a metal utility cart bearing the weight of a television made up the rest of the furniture. The galley style kitchen opened into the living room with no wall separating it, and a doorway led into what he presumed were the bedroom and bathroom. Aside from the obvious bachelor furniture that could be expected on a firefighter's salary, the place wasn't bad at all.

"Where are the antimacassars?" Lopez queried, glancing around and smirking. He started towards the doorway with the bag and shifted course when John pointed towards the chair.

"Put it there, would you Marco? And honestly, I don't know what antimacassars are, I just heard my nutty landlord mention them one time. Luckily he hasn't made it to the fourth floor with his renovations; otherwise, I would probably know what they are."

"Oh, they're those things old ladies throw over the arms of couches to keep them clean," Roy said, shrugging his shoulders as the other two stared at him. "What? My grandmother had them all over the place; I think she made them herself."

"A funny name for them," Marco commented, swinging the bag up onto the chair and surveying the small apartment. "You think your landlord will put up that flowery paper on the walls?"

"Geez, I sure hope not, especially after I just painted the walls all white," the dark haired paramedic replied with a wry smile and dropped wearily into the maroon cushions of the loveseat. He flung his head back and closed his eyes briefly before seeming to remember that the men were still there. His eyes shot back open just as Roy glanced at Lopez and jerked his head towards the door.

"Get some rest, John," Roy said quietly, touching his partner's shoulder lightly as he stepped past him. "Dixie said to remind you that she'll be over later with your meds."

"Right, okay, thanks." He heaved himself to his feet and followed them to the door so that he could lock it behind them.

"Yeah Gage, get some sleep. Roy's not gonna want to go back on the engine if you call in next shift, 'cause I'm pretty sure they don't have enough trained paramedics yet for sick coverage ," the lineman teased; he eased out through the doorway backwards with his hands raised in a placating manner when Johnny's upper lip curled in a menacing sneer. He waved his fingers in a farewell gesture and hurried after DeSoto.

Gage stood in the doorway a moment, leaning a hip against the frame as he watched the two men saunter down the hall and stop in front of the elevator. They disappeared within and Johnny moved back into his little sanctuary. After he closed and locked the door, he trudged into his bedroom, flicking on the switch that turned on his two bedside lamps. The room darkening shades were still drawn from when he had left for work forty eight hours ago; they worked well as the room was pitch black.

Sitting on the edge of the double bed, he divested himself of his boots and socks, than stripped everything else off. It took some digging, but he finally located a pair of worn pajamas in a bottom dresser drawer that he hadn't worn in years. The soft fabric felt comforting against his bruised and exhausted body; he shut off the light, crawled under all of the covers, and buried himself in the comforting warmth. Later, later, he would deal with all his failures, doubts, and the other raging thoughts that were threatening to mentally bulldoze him into a place he had no desire to go.

~TBC~