A/N: Dedicated to the memory of Tim Donnelly. May you Rest in Peace. You will be missed.
Rampart Hospital
1973
John Gage slouched in the visitor's chair in yet another hospital room. He'd done this a hundred times since joining the crew of 51s, and he supposed he do it another hundred or so before they all went their separate ways.
He stared at the pale, still face of his supposed arch-nemesis, Chester B. Kelly. The man had more balls than brains most of the time, and this last rescue of a couple from a house collapse had just proven that fact. Roy had already left with their first patient, and they'd been having a rough time extracting the second victim. John had finally gotten in to treat the woman, but the small space they'd shored up was threatening to drop on top of them any moment.
The vic was finally extracted, but John was left behind temporarily as per SOP. When a pipe suddenly burst and water began cascading into the space, Chet'd had enough. He lunged down into the space, grabbed John bodily and pulled him to safety, ingesting a large amount of mud and filthy water in the process, since he hadn't bothered to put his mask or respirator on first.
The woman had only minor injuries, but Chet hadn't gotten so lucky. He had earned himself a stay at Rampart's ICU, where John was now watching over him. He'd contracted pneumonia and a nasty infection. Fortunately, he was responding to the antibiotics, and had already graduated to a nasal cannula. Brackett ensured them Chet was improving and that his coma was just his body's way of healing itself. John would just be happy when the man woke up. He'd been out for four days, and John's nerves were shattered. Normally, only family was allowed in with the patient in ICU, but for Chet, the crew was his family, and no one argued the point.
A few hours later, as John was dozing, his practiced ear caught the sound of the heart monitor picking up. He sat up and looked over at Chet, who was staring at him fuzzily. Immediately, John jumped up and grinned. "Hey, Chester B.! You okay?"
Chet shot him a look. He rasped out, "Peachy. Whattya think?"
Then Johnny grew serious. "Man, you coulda died in there, Chet. You scared the hell outta me!"
Chet stared at John for a long moment. He was as solemn as John had ever seen him. "No, you wouldn't have lost me, babe. Someday, maybe. But not for a long time, I promise."
John shot him a skeptical look as he heard the doctors heading their way. "Oh yeah? And how do you know this?"
Chet smirked. "Don't you know by now? The Phantom always knows!"
~The End~