The engine crew of Station 51 was lounging around the kitchen table when they heard the sound of the squad backing into the bay. Captain Hank Stanley put down his paper to watch his paramedics walk into the kitchen and bee-line it to the coffee pot.
Roy grabbed two mugs, handing one to Johnny. Johnny helped himself to coffee and then held out the pot and tipped it without looking, the dark liquid splashing into the mug that Roy had already lifted.
"Tough run?" The station's captain asked sympathetically.
"Runs," Roy corrected. He shot a glance at Johnny, who was distractedly swirling the coffee in his mug. "Not tough. Just long."
Johnny nodded in agreement and plunked down at the table, tossing his jacket over the back of his chair. "Four back-to-back."
Plus all of the others earlier in the day, thought Hank. It was then that he noticed a smudge of soot across the younger paramedic's nose.
"One of those days, huh fellas?" Marco asked.
"One of those days," Johnny repeated, then swatted at Roy who had joined him at the table and was reaching to rub the grime off of Johnny's face. "Would ya – don't – stop it!"
Roy gave up with a shrug and took a long drink of his treasured caffeine.
"We didn't hear anything about a fire," Hank said, nodding his head toward Johnny.
"Ah yeah, no fire," Roy replied. "Someone got stuck in their fireplace."
"Their… fireplace?" Hank all but sputtered. The rest of the crew shifted perceptibly closer, interest piqued.
"Practice," Johnny stated matter-of-factly.
"Practice?" Marco and Chet asked at the same time.
Johnny nodded. "For Christmas."
A round of chuckles broke out from the men.
"Any leftovers from lunch?" Roy asked hopefully.
"Yeah, there's sandwich meat and cheese in the fridge," Marco said.
The men watched as John and Roy looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation before Roy sighed and stood up with a roll of his eyes. Johnny turned to the rest of them and grinned. "His turn."
"It's always my turn."
"Nuh-uh. I got us those hamburgers Tuesday."
"And I saved that chili from Chet for you Friday."
Johnny pointed a finger at Roy to retort, but no words came out.
Roy raised his eyebrows expectantly as he pulled supplies out from the fridge.
"I know it's your turn," was all Johnny could say.
Hank shook his head with a smile, glancing around at the others. Mike seemed amused, Marco was laughing and Chet was crossing his arms determinedly.
"Why do you let him get away with that, Roy?" Chet asked.
"Get away with what?" Johnny asked indignantly.
"Treating poor Roy like a servant."
"I'm not taking the bait, Chet–" Roy said at the same time that Johnny said, "I don't treat him like a servant–"
Chet grinned, seemingly pleased with himself for getting a rise out of the paramedics.
It was then that the klaxons sounded, and Johnny and Roy both groaned.
"Squad 51. Possible heart attack. 85 Carriagedale Drive. Eight-five Carriagedale Drive. Time out: Fourteen fifty seven."
"We need to start pre-making sandwiches," Roy said glumly as he tossed a slice of bread onto the counter.
"Or something," Johnny sighed as he ran ahead into the engine bay. Roy silently grabbed the jacket his partner left behind and followed.
"Come in!" The panicked shout of a woman could be heard from somewhere in the home.
The paramedics entered the mid-century bungalow and found a man in his forties on the floor of the living room, groaning and holding his chest. A woman in her thirties hovered worriedly above him.
"He was fine! He was fine! His arm just started hurting and then he was grabbing at his chest," the woman exclaimed.
Roy rushed to the man on the floor, while Johnny set his equipment down and accosted the now noticeably pregnant woman.
"Hey, hey, it's gonna be alright," Johnny said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "Is that your husband?"
"Yes, yes, please help him! He's hurt!"
"Come on, I think you should sit down over here." Johnny led the woman to a plush recliner, his hand automatically encircling her wrist for a pulse.
"Just… listen to the man… honey," the victim croaked from where he lay on the floor.
"He has to be okay, are you okay Terry?" The woman continued to panic, trying to get back up.
"Take it easy, take it easy," Johnny insisted, ensuring she continued to sit. "What's your name?" He placed his hand softly to count her respirations.
"Tammy – Terry and Tammy – they call us 'Double T,'" Tammy babbled. "Oh please god, don't let him die."
Johnny held up a placating hand. "He's not gonna die, just calm down. It's gonna be fine. How far are you along?" He listened to Roy assessing Terry behind him.
"Seven months," she said. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He's gonna be fine. Now, are you feeling okay? Any pains?"
Tammy shook her head, bending around Johnny to get a better view at the man on the floor.
Johnny nodded, content with her vitals. "Okay, good. We're going to take good care of him. But you need to remain calm, so I can go check him out with my partner. Okay?"
The woman, though distraught, forced herself to nod, eyes never leaving the man on the floor.
Johnny joined Roy, setting up the biophone and relaying the vitals that were already taken while Roy set up the EKG.
Weak pulse. Rapid and barely palpable.
Respirations 30.
BP 64 over 40.
Diaphoretic.
They passed each other that look, agreeing without words that they had to be fast.
Johnny ripped open a bag of D5W while Roy monitored for changes in the vitals.
"What is that?" Terry gasped, jumping to her feet and rushing to their sides.
"Ma'am, ma'am. It's okay," Johnny held his hands up in reassurance, IV bag dangling. He wordlessly handed the liquid medicine to Roy, who had just finished setting up the cannula.
"But what are you doing to him?"
"It's just in case. We're getting ready to take him to the hospital. Now please, please go sit down."
The worried wife complied. The wail of the ambulance sounded from the street.
"Uh, vitals are holding, Rampart," Johnny informed the biophone. "The ambulance has just arrived." He watched as the attendants pulled a gurney through the front door.
"10-4, 51. Continue to monitor vitals and transport immediately."
The four men gracefully moved around each other, gently placing the victim into the gurney. Roy tucked the BP cuff under his arm, gathered up the EKG machine and followed the attendants out with the IV solution lifted in his opposite hand. Johnny swiftly grabbed the remaining equipment.
Tammy jumped up from her chair so quickly that Johnny dropped the drug box to grab her arm. "Whoa there. Calm down."
"Is he going to be okay?"
"We've stabilized him. Now we're taking him to the hospital. You can go with him."
"Oh, yes please."
Johnny balanced the drug box under the arm that held the biophone, and used his free hand to lead the pregnant woman to the street.
He shoved the equipment into the ambulance behind Roy and was nearly knocked over as Terry tried to scramble in after. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Johnny gently took her arm. "You have to ride in the front."
"But –"
"He's gonna be fine. My partner's going to be with him the whole time."
The victim lifted his head from the gurney in the ambulance to look at his wife. "Double T," he croaked.
Tammy smiled. "Double T," she repeated, and allowed Johnny to show her where she could ride without another word.
When Johnny stepped out of the squad at the hospital, he paled to see the chaos of their patient in trouble. Roy was performing CPR, sweat stains showing that he had been doing it for a period somewhere between way-too-long and just enough. The victim's wife had stumbled out of the ambulance cab and was hysterically crying. Dr. Morton and Dixie met the group in the ambulance bay and led everyone to treatment room four.
Johnny followed close behind, knowing the best thing for him to do was to stay out of the way. He hesitated as Dixie stopped Tammy from entering the treatment room. Another nurse collected the pregnant woman and led her to the waiting area. Johnny struggled to decide whether or not to console the wife, but settled for stepping into the doctor's lounge to wait for Roy. The nurse would keep her company.
Roy entered a couple minutes later, his mouth a tight line and his red hair pasted to his forehead. The paramedic sat down silently at the table, where Johnny had a cup of coffee waiting for him.
Johnny tilted his head, wordlessly asking the question.
"I don't know," Roy said. "We got sinus rhythm back for now."
Johnny nodded.
They sat in silence, taking solace in a few minutes of peace.
It was Johnny's stomach that interrupted.
Roy couldn't help but smile. "I guess we should get something to eat."
"I'm not really hungry anymore," Johnny shook his head.
"Your one-man percussion band begs to differ."
As if on queue, Johnny's stomach rumbled again. He snorted. "Okay, fine."
"Come on," Roy said, standing up. "It's my turn, remember?"
Johnny's face lit up with a smile and followed his partner into the hall.
The paramedics said a quick hello as they almost ran into a very busy Dixie and then headed toward the emergency entrance.
"Think we should just pick up?" Roy asked, looking over. He frowned as he realized his partner was no longer beside him. Turning, he saw that Johnny was frozen in the middle of the hallway, smile gone and looking pale. Roy took a few steps toward him and was about to ask if he forgot how to walk when Johnny's eyes shot up to meet his.
The mournful look in them stopped Roy in his tracks.
A wailing voice from the waiting room echoed against the hospital walls, "They told me he was going to be fine!"
Johnny winced and shut his eyes.
"It was supposed to be okay!"
Johnny opened his eyes again and cleared his throat. "I guess Terry didn't make it," he said, and walked past Roy.
Roy studied his own shoe for a moment before turning to follow his partner.
"They told me –" Tammy's cries were cut off by the door closing behind them.
Johnny and Roy forewent picking up food and made the silent ride directly back to the station.
They both hesitated at the door to the dayroom, neither in the mood for chatting with their station mates, but both knowing they needed some sustenance.
Johnny plunked down at the table while Roy opened the fridge. He was warmed to see two fully-made sandwiches waiting for them. "Thanks, guys," he said, pulling them out and setting one down in front of his partner.
"Don't get used to it. Henry's not usually that dextrous," Chet said from the couch.
"Uh, it was the dog that made us lunch?" Roy smiled, sitting next to Johnny.
Hank glanced down at his watch. "Well, dinner."
Roy checked his own watch. "Geez."
"Say, how many runs is that today, fellas?" Hank asked, eyeing the weary paramedics. They each took one bite of their sandwiches and set them down, seemingly uninterested.
"Uh, I'm not sure. Ten maybe? Eleven?" Roy looked at Johnny, who just shrugged and worked on chewing his bite.
"Better get on that log, guys. It's going to creep up on you faster than a heart attack," Chet said.
Roy noticed as Johnny stopped chewing for a split second, but resumed and didn't respond.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
Roy opened his mouth to say something about long days and the need for peace when the klaxons saved him.
"Station 51, Station 96, Engine 12. House fire. 81 Canopy Lane. Eight-one Canopy Lane. Time out: Sixteen twenty-one."
"Grab it to go," Hank said, pointing at the paramedics plates as everyone jumped to their feet.
"Nah," Roy said as Johnny shook his head. "We'll be fine."
Hank worriedly eyed the dark smudges under Johnny's eyes before following his men out into the engine bay.
The address in question was a longer drive for the station than usual. Situated on the side of a mountain at the end of a rolling gravel driveway, the two-storey home was fully-involved, flames scratching at the dulling blue of the late afternoon sky.
Engine 12 had been the first to arrive. The incident commander, Captain Boucher, directed 51's men to grab inch-and-a-halfs and cover the outside; his men had already worked their way inside. He then canceled Squad 96.
Hank joined the other captain and nodded questioningly to a lone civilian, staring worriedly up at the fire.
"Neighbour," informed Boucher. "Said the family is out of town."
"Aah, gotcha. Need anything from me?"
"Nah, I think it's pretty controlled, Hank. Hot and heavy, but luckily no people involved."
Hank nodded, clapped his colleague on the shoulder and went to help his men.
Johnny and Roy had one line directed at the window near the front door, adding extra water and support to the men inside. Marco and Chet were tackling some flames on the second storey.
Engine 96 pulled up, and Boucher directed one extra line to the house, plus one to douse some of the surrounding brush.
Hank was just about to reach his paramedics when the civilian ran up to him. "Wait! I just remembered something."
"What's going on, sir?" Hank asked calmly.
"I think – I mean, I'm not sure, but I think I remember hearing Shauna saying that Lance might stay home this weekend."
"Sir, are you telling me that there might be someone in there?" Hank raised his eyes to the house in front of them. Flames were shooting out almost every single window. The fire was seething and hungry and unlikely to trade any hostages.
"Yeah, I mean, I'm not sure–"
Hank cursed under his breath and jogged back to Boucher, informing the captain of the situation.
Boucher eyed the civilian warily. "H.T. 18, this is Engine 18. We have an informant saying there might be someone in the building."
There was a beat, then the H.T. crackled in response. "Negative, Engine 18. We've been through all the rooms. Did you want us to make another pass?"
Boucher considered the information, and then nodded. "Affirmative, H.T. 18. If it is safe to do so, take one more look for potential victims."
"10-4."
"The cave!" The informant had approached the two captains and startled Hank with his exclamation.
"Sir?" Hank asked.
The neighbour pointed toward the hill immediately behind the house. "Maybe he took shelter in the cave. The family regularly goes there. I always thought they should stay away, but–"
"Sir, how certain are you that there was someone home?" Boucher asked, his voice with a bit of an edge.
The civilian shook his head. "I'm not sure. When the family asked me to watch the house while they were away, originally they were all going. Shauna, Lance and their two girls. But then I remembered that Lance might have had to stay behind for work. I'm just… I am worried – what if I was wrong and he's here somewhere?"
Boucher studied him with a sharp eye before nodding. "Okay. Hank, have your paramedics check out the cave. Doesn't hurt to be sure."
The trail up to the cave was steep but well-worn. The sound of the fire crackled against the mountain side, its orange glow causing the shadows of rocks and crags to dance with the paramedics as they ascended.
The cool darkness of the cave thrust them into silence. The chaos of the fire outside fell away almost immediately, muffled by a barrier of stone and shadow.
The cave was tall, a couple dozen feet maybe, but it was thin. Just large enough for two paramedics to walk side-by-side.
"Hello?" Johnny called. "Anyone in here?"
His voice echoed, reaching back to grab at them from all corners. There was a flutter above, followed by a barely audible noise from the younger paramedic.
"You scared of bats, Johnny?" Roy's teeth flashed white in the dim light of their flashlights.
"No," Johnny all but pouted, forcing Roy's smile larger.
Their beams crossed paths on the ceiling, Johnny trying his best to ignore the movement up top. The cavern's roof began to slant downward, until it was half as high as before.
"Hello?" Johnny shouted again.
"Lance?" Roy's voice chased Johnny's into the dark.
"How far do you think this goes back?"
Roy pretended to not notice the extra hitch in Johnny's breath at that question. Mr Outdoorsy uncomfortable in a cave? That was new.
"It's the bats, isn't it?" Okay, so he wasn't going to pretend.
"I'm not scared, Roy."
"Okay, Johnny."
"I'm not."
"I don't know about that, but I'm pretty sure he would have heard us by now if he was in here," Roy said.
"LANCE ARE YOU IN HERE?"
Roy started at Johnny's shout, and then glared at his partner.
"What? Is it the bats, Roy?"
Roy opened his mouth to respond when they heard a rumbling sound.
They looked up to see the ceiling was crumbling in.
Instinctually, Johnny shoved Roy as hard as he could forward, away from the collapsing stones. Dust exploded upward and out like the mushroom cloud of a bomb as the momentum threw Johnny backward.
Johnny listened, dazed, for what felt like hours as the cave continued to fall in. He waited for the last stones to drop with small pops and pings.
And then he was scrambling to his knees.
The entire cavern in front of him was barricaded, an angry wall that was sharp with the shadows cast by Johnny's wayward flashlight.
And Roy's, too.
"Roy?" Johnny's voice echoed back at him, taunting more than teasing this time, cracking more and more with each reverberation.
He brought his head close to the pile of debris to listen, angrily pulling off his helmet when it clanged against a rock and startled him.
There was nothing, and the darkness between the flashlight beams began to swallow him up.
"Roy?" He shouted again, trying to still the rush of the blood in his head that throbbed with what if and please god no and how will I ever, so he could listen for a response.
Still nothing.
Panic seized the paramedic, locking him in place for only a second before he threw himself into feverishly pulling at the rocks and digging at the dirt. He didn't feel the sharp edges against his palms or the debris forcing its way under his nails; they were scraping the edges of his mind instead.
Carving the fact that he had just buried his partner into his brain.
He finally realized that he wasn't getting anywhere. Shaking, he glanced back to the entrance of the cave – he needed help.
"I-I'll be right back," he shouted at the obstruction, before stumbling to his feet and leaving his pathetic words behind.
The run back to the engine felt like the longest in Johnny's life. He was out of breath by the time he found Cap, skidding to an ungraceful stop on the gravel.
"Are you okay?" Cap asked, stunned to see the tremendous amount of dirt on Johnny's face. He looked the paramedic up and down.
"What? No. I mean yes. It's Roy."
"What happened?" Hank noticed blood on Johnny's hands. He went to reach for them, but Johnny moved them away, articulating his words with his movements.
"Cap, there was a collapse in the cave, and Roy was – h-hope he was – on the other side – I-I don't know if… I need help," Johnny's eyes were wide and white against the dust.
"Son of a –" Hank glanced around for Boucher, but didn't immediately see him. He pulled up his H.T. "Engine 18, this is Engine 51. We have a cave collapse and a possible Code I on scene. We're gonna need another engine and squad, and an ambulance."
"10-4, 51." Boucher could then be heard radioing LA with the commands.
Hank's eyes fell to Johnny. For a moment, the paramedic's helmet and turnout coat seemed too big on him, as if they could consume him, and he just seemed... young.
He shook his head. Roy.
Hank eyed the progress of the fire as he trotted over to Marco and Chet, who still had an inch-and-a-half directed at the second-storey window. "Kelly! Lopez! Drop the line. We have a cave collapse and Roy's stuck inside. Grab some tools and start digging."
"Right, Cap," Marco responded for both firefighters. They set down their line and jogged to the truck to get equipment.
Boucher came over to meet Hank. "What's the sitrep?"
"I pulled my men to help dig," Hank said apologetically.
Boucher waved his hand. "I understand. What can I do?"
"The cave collapsed and one of my men is caught inside. Can we spare anyone else to help the extraction?"
Both men turned trained eyes to the fire. It was still fully-involved, but the combined effort of 12's and 96's men were making headway.
"Sure thing, Hank." Boucher trotted away and began issuing commands into his H.T., pulling an additional two men from the fire.
Hank sighed and turned back to the engine in time to see Marco and Chet ready for the cave. "Now be careful." He punctuated it with a finger. "And gloves and helmets, please," he added with a sidelong look at his lone paramedic.
"Right, Cap," Chet responded and he and Marco trotted off.
"Oh no you don't," Hank grabbed Johnny by his turnout to prevent him from following the other men.
"Hey!" Johnny fought against his captain's unmoving arms, trying to scramble above or through the man to get back to his partner.
"Hey yourself! You're bleeding, John. Not to mention," Hank grunted as Johnny continued to fight him, "you're barely standing. Now cut it out!"
Johnny stopped but glared at his captain. "I can't just stand around, Cap, it's Roy in there!"
"I know, pal. I know. But I need you to stay put until we can have someone take a look at you."
Johnny went to run past Hank again, and again Hank stopped him. "He's going to be fine, John! Let the men do their job."
A look of horror passed over Johnny, his eyes widening and looking up at Cap. "What?"
"I said Roy will be alright. He's gonna be fine." Hank frowned at the shock in Johnny's face.
"No," It was more of a whimper than a word.
"Johnny," Hank grabbed him by the arms. "He's going to be okay."
But Johnny didn't even seem to see him.
"I need you to calm down. Go. Sit." Hank commanded.
When Johnny didn't move, Hank sighed and tugged at the younger man's arm, leading him toward the squad. "Now don't move," Hank ordered, then hesitated when Johnny didn't complain.
"Gage?"
There was no response. Johnny's eyes were open but glazed, his head lowered. There was a pained look on his face that cut into Hank.
"John?" He asked, softly.
Finally, Hank shook his head and walked over to his engineer, who was still by the dials despite having no one on his lines.
"Hey Stoker, can you check Gage out?" Hank waved toward the squad.
"Sure thing, Cap," Mike responded, pausing for a brief moment when he noticed how Johnny looked.
"Um, and can you keep an eye on him while you can? Another engine should be here soon."
Mike nodded and approached the paramedic.
Johnny was still standing exactly where Hank had moved him.
"Hey Johnny," he greeted. "How're you doing?"
When the younger man ignored him, Mike shot a confused look in his captain's direction, but Hank was already jogging away.
"Johnny?"
Nothing.
"Why don't we sit down?" Mike asked softly. Johnny didn't respond, so Mike started to lower himself and pulled the paramedic's turnout coat to guide him to do the same.
"Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The engineer asked, running his hands behind the paramedic's head to check for a head wound. Unable to find anything, he felt Johnny's limbs the best he could through the turnout gear.
He took a quick intake of breath when he saw the palms of Johnny's hands. "Oh, Johnny." Mike said softly, glancing up at his friend. The paramedic's sharp features were painted sharper with dirt and shadow and the tension in his jaw.
Mike cleaned and wrapped both hands. It had never been so easy to treat the paramedic, but Mike wasn't sure he preferred it that way. He finished his preliminary search for injuries, but couldn't find anything. Unsure of what to do next, Mike settled down beside Johnny, close enough to make sure the younger man could feel his presence.
They waited for what felt like a long time. The silence between them stabbed at the engineer. Johnny without words was a shell. Johnny without movement was a ghost. He looked over to realize that Johnny had actually shifted, only to curl in on himself – his arms were now wrapped around his legs, his head resting on his knees.
The sight of it sent a jab through Mike's chest. "It's gonna be okay, Johnny," He said quietly, gently patting Johnny on the back. He thought for a second that the paramedic had twitched, but there was nothing more.
Night settled in around them, bruising the sky before settling into hazy dark. The red-white-red flashes of the engines striped against the waning orange of the fire against the mountainside.
The sounds of oncoming sirens wailed at them from all sides, the mountain haphazardly throwing echoes into the punch-drunk evening.
"The cavalry's arrived," Mike said.
Johnny said nothing.
"How's he doing?" Cap had returned, his long shadow pasted on the squad above them.
Mike shook his head. "The same. Wrapped his hands though."
"Thanks, Mike." Hank sighed.
The two men watched as the incident commander directed half the new engine to the fire, and the other half, plus the newly arrived paramedics, to the hill.
Time moved slowly, marking its progress with a slowly-receding fire. Hank stood helplessly. Boucher had clearly left both himself and Stoker free to support Gage, but he hated having nothing to do but wait. And watch.
He glanced down at Johnny, who had pulled his knees up at some point but was otherwise still quiet and unresponsive. Hank remembered how there had been no food and too much quiet at the station.
He considered requesting that Boucher pull the paramedics from the extraction to check Gage out, but threw out the thought almost the second he had it. Gage wasn't in immediate danger – DeSoto was.
Hank turned to watch the entrance of the cave as the rest of the evening uncoiled slowly.
By the time he finally saw movement, it could have been ten minutes or five hours. There were people emerging from the cave, and he tensed at the in-between of thank god or oh no.
And then he counted them. One two three four five six… seven.
Four linesmen and three paramedics.
A shock of emotion ran through him, relief beaded at his hairline.
DeSoto was walking on his own.
It took them days to reach him, so long that Hank jogged to meet them part way.
"I'm fine, Cap," Roy's white teeth were stark against the dirt on his face.
Hank heaved a sigh of relief and smiled back. "Thank god." He glanced around at his men, tension leaving their bodies at those words. "Nice work, fellas. Alright. Let's get back to that fire, shall we? We should be able to wrap it up quickly and hopefully squeak out of cleanup."
Roy went to follow Chet and Marco but Hank caught his turnout coat. "Not you. You sure you're okay?"
Roy nodded. "Bruised my tailbone when Johnny pushed me out of the way of the collapse, but just minor abrasions and contusions otherwise."
"Good. Roy, I need you to check out your partner."
"Johnny?" The paramedic looked stricken as he allowed Hank to lead him back to the squad. "I thought he was okay?"
"I did too, but… he's been like that the whole time," Hank motioned to the dark-haired paramedic, sitting on the ground against the tire of the squad, folded in on himself.
Roy swallowed as he approached his friend, wondering if it was a head injury. Mike stood to give Roy more room, joining Cap to watch him work.
"Where is your helmet, Junior," Roy chastised, pulling open the door to their equipment.
Johnny didn't respond.
The red-haired paramedic eyed his friend as he set down the drugbox, oxygen and biophone. Johnny's breathing was fast and shallow. Roy felt around Johnny's head for an injury. "Johnny, can you hear me?"
"R-roy," the younger paramedic finally said, words muffled and hard to hear from his position.
Roy cracked a relieved smile as he eased fingers around Johnny's wrist, still tightly holding his legs. "That's right, Junior. Back in action."
"Need to get to Roy."
Roy's heart caught in his chest. "What?"
"I-I don't… trapped… had to get help."
"Johnny. I'm right here."
"I… it was my fault. Sh-shouted. Caved in. Buried 'im."
"Johnny? I'm fine." Roy gently pushed Johnny back, pulling him up from the tucked position. His partner was malleable, compliant, at odds with everything Johnny was. He checked Johnny's pupils with his penlight. They were equal and responsive, but Johnny didn't physically react to the bright light.
"You don't know that," Johnny whispered, his eyes hovering somewhere on the ground in front of him. He seemed to tighten his grip on his legs. "You're lying."
Confused, Roy hesitated before responding, "I'm right here, Junior. Everything's going to be okay." He reached over and set a hand on Johnny's arm to help drive the point home.
"We don't know that."
Roy was lost in a tide of uncertainty, the boat that was his partner drifting unnervingly away from shore. He glanced up at Hank and Mike for a lifeline. "What do you mean, Johnny?"
"We say that. But we don't know."
"What, Johnny?"
"Everything's going to be fine." It was such a quiet whisper, Roy almost didn't hear it.
A tumbler fell into place in the older paramedic's brain. Carefully, he reached up and cupped his other hand at the back of Johnny's neck. "Johnny, look at me. I'm here."
"What if I didn't get you out of the way?" Johnny's voice cracked. "What if you're not fine?"
"I'm fine, Junior." The timbre of Roy's voice echoed Johnny's, the sound of his partner's helplessness lancing jagged holes into his gut.
Johnny's head dropped back down to his knees, his breath hitching in his chest. Roy could feel the younger paramedic quivering beneath his hands, like elastic pulled too tight. About to break.
"Would I lie to you?"
Roy felt Johnny sigh, but give no other response.
"Listen to my voice, Johnny. It's me." Roy's murmured assurances were so quiet that Hank and Mike strained to hear.
Johnny's head lifted a little, as if listening intently.
"Would I lie to you, Junior?" Roy said again, almost sternly. He shook the hand he still had on the back of his partner's neck, just enough for Johnny to feel it.
The younger paramedic straightened up and shook his head, his eyes finally zooming in on Roy's. "No," he whispered.
"I'm okay, Johnny. I'm right here."
"But I thought I buried you…" Johnny's voice broke, his eyebrows creasing at the thought. He clumsily reached and grasped the arm attached to the hand at his neck.
Roy shook his head. "No, no you got to me in time. You pushed me out of the way. I'm fine."
"But… Terry wasn't fine."
Roy hesitated. "Terry?"
"Terry and Tammy," Johnny whispered. "Terry wasn't fine."
Roy nodded, remembering the run. Terry and Tammy. Double T. The hollow cry of the woman's grief echoing in the hall at Rampart. He tightened his grip on both the back of Johnny's neck and his arm, lending his strength to his partner. "That's right."
"We said he was fine."
"I know, Johnny. We have to say that. We have to help the family members in the moment."
"We lie," Johnny said.
Roy hesitated, not sure how to respond.
"Cap lied to me."
"He didn't lie, Johnny, because I am fine."
"He didn't know that." Suddenly Johnny looked up at Hank. "You didn't know that!"
The younger paramedic's sudden shout echoed in the dark, startling the other men.
"I'm sorry, pal," Hank responded softly.
It was then that a couple of tears finally spilled over dark lashes. Johnny let out a frustrated growl and wiped them with the back of a hand. "Sorry. I don't know what happened. I just – there was so much – and Cap said – I thought..."
"You think I'm going to just leave you here alone when it's your turn to get food?"
Johnny looked startled at the joke. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said, "I seem to recall that I still haven't eaten anything."
"At all?" Hank's voice rose.
Johnny and Roy exchanged a glance and looked up at him with mirrored shrugs.
Hank sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pretending to be frustrated and not completely gutted by Johnny's red-rimmed eyes. "Fellas. You need to keep in tip-top shape. Look at what happens when –" he stopped himself before finishing, but had already motioned toward Johnny.
Johnny's eyes dropped. "Sorry."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Roy nudged him.
"Well, you damn-near gave me a heart attack…" Hank muttered.
Johnny winced.
"We need to talk about how that's a bad metaphor for paramedics," Roy said, peering up at Hank with a wan smile.
"Ah, shit. Now I'm sorry."
"'s okay," Johnny mumbled, studying his hands. "Hey. When did…"
"What did you do to them?" Roy pulled Johnny's hands to him, gently inspecting the bandages.
"Mike fixed you up," Hank said, nodding to the quiet engineer.
"You got a bit cut up trying to dig Roy out," Mike shrugged.
"Thanks," Johnny said, but still seemed confused.
"You okay, John?" Hank lowered himself to a squat. "I was really worried."
"I'm alright, I'm alright!" Johnny's voice pitched petulantly, waving a bandaged hand.
Hank pointedly raised his eyebrows at him.
Johnny winced. "Sorry, Cap. I mean – I'm okay. Just need some food and sleep."
The captain continued to scrutinize him. Finally he nodded. "Okay, but both of you are heading to Rampart for a checkup."
"But I just said –" Johnny said at the same time Roy said, "There's nothing wrong –"
"Zip it," Hank cut them off, straightening up to his full height. "Ambulance. Now. I'll have Marco drive the squad to pick you up."
Two weary partners sat facing each other, on opposite sides of an ambulance that was its own sort of cave. The hum of the wheels on the pavement was familiar. Comfortable. They were non-code R. The attendants sat up front, their services not required.
"Do we need to talk about it?" Roy asked, studying his junior partner with concern. Stop worrying about me more than you worry about yourself.
Johnny shook his head and struggled to meet his eyes. "Nah." I don't know what I'd do if...
"You know I'm not going anywhere, right?" Stop that right now.
"Yeah." Pleasegodplease.
"Thanks for getting me help, Johnny." You did everything you could.
"Yeah. I just..." Buried you...
Roy watched Johnny's eyes well up, the silent exchange not getting through. He placed a hand on his partner's knee. "Hey. You saved me. I trust you."
Johnny's eyes met his, finally. His smile followed, finally.
"Do you think we should stop telling the victims' families that they're going to be okay?" Roy asked, leaning back. He knew how much honesty meant to Johnny, how literally Johnny could take things. Roy had never considered their consolations as deception.
"I don't know," Johnny shrugged. "We can't have them panicking."
"I guess we could ask what Brackett thinks."
Johnny nodded.
"You gonna be okay?"
Johnny sighed, running a hand through his hair, molding his locks into disarray. "Yeah. Yeah. I think I just… not enough food, and thinking you were dead – it really hit me hard." He gave Roy a wavering, crooked grin.
"You sure it wasn't a rock that hit you hard?"
Johnny waved a hand and scoffed. "Yes, I'm sure. Quit mothering me."
There was a pause, a comfortable silence as the sounds of the L.A. traffic thrummed beyond the metal cavern, calming them, lulling them, promising them that they would always wind up here. Together.
"Hey Johnny," Roy said, eyes shining and grin just a little too pleased, "are you sure you're… gonna be fine?"
Johnny's jaw dropped, indignant and embarrassed and just a little bit relieved. "Shuddup."
Their eyes met, their weary smiles matched and both paramedics leaned back against the ambulance walls to rest for the duration of the ride.