An angel peered down through the holes in the floorboards of Heaven. God, walking through the sparkling streets of gold, saw his angel and asked, "What are you watching, my child?"
The angel sat up slowly. His voice was sorrowful, "Amy still has the letters I wrote, and my picture in a frame. She's had a year to let go, but she's still wearing my ring. It hasn't left her finger since the night that I proposed, when I promised her forever before I took her home," The angel's voice faltered a little and he paused. "But I never made it home that night,"
God nodded slowly. "I know, my child,"
"A part of her died too. I watched her losing her mind, and there's nothing I can do. Sometimes she goes crazy screaming out my name, saying 'baby, please come save me'. I wish she knew I'd do anything to kiss the tears right off her face, tell her everything's okay, feel her heartbeat next to mine and make up for lost time. Oh, but God I know I can't!
"I am sorry, my child."
The angel turned his face to the Lord, "Please, you can't let her live this way! It's too late for saving me, but there's still hope for saving Amy!"
The Lord smiled at his angel. "Look again, my son. She will have all the help she needs."
Far below heaven, on the far from sparkling pavement streets of Los Angeles, Roy DeSoto stepped out of the squad and onto the curb. He lingered there for a moment, struggling to find the strength to shut the door and walk up the sidewalk.
Dispatch had called it a welfare check. 23 Magnolia Drive. Roy knew this address; almost everyone in the department did, and he knew why they had been called there. He turned back for a second. Still in the passenger seat, his partner gave him a reassuring grin and nodded. "You got this, Roy."
Roy sighed and started walking up the concrete sidewalk. How many times in this past year had he counted the steps that it took to reach the front door? Countless. It was only twelve steps. Everything in his being told him to leave, to not deal with this now but that was impossible. It was always with him; he had just learned how to push it down deep.
The same familiar brass knocker greeted him on the front door. He didn't use it, instead he turned the doorknob and opened the door. Inside, it was dark and the smell of hard liquor assaulted his nostrils.
"Amy?" He said softly. He set the HT down on the armchair closest to him.
A weak voice emanated from the couch. "Is that you, Roy?" A head emerged from a pile of blankets. A half empty whiskey bottle and a glass sat on the floor next to an open photo album.
Roy checked his watch. It was only 10 am and she was already plastered. Unfortunately this was a common occurrence, but today he didn't blame her. If he wasn't on shift he probably would be drunk as well. "Your mom called in a welfare check again, Amy." He knelt down on the floor beside her. "How long has it been since you left the house?"
"Three days." Amy laid her head down on her arm.
Roy sighed. This girl was a shell of who she once was. When they met she had been full of life, vibrant and happy. Now she didn't laugh, didn't smile, could barely function.
"It's been one year, Roy."
Roy felt hot tears burn at the back of his eyes so he inhaled deeply and dropped his head to his chest. "It feels like just yesterday, doesn't it? Accidents are hard that way. It happens so suddenly that you don't have time to prepare, to say goodbye." Losing one of their own was always hard on the LAcoFD, but newer safety measures were always in the works, helping the ones who saved lives save their own as well.
"Amy," Roy placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "He was a firefighter. He died doing what he did best. I know that it's only been a year but…" Roy stalled. Moving on isn't the right wording, he thought. "Amy, you need help. Let me get you help, please." He begged.
"I don't want to forget him, Roy." Tears began to openly roll down the young woman's face.
"No, you will never forget him, Amy. None of us ever will. But he will always be with you, here," He held his fist over his heart. "And with that ring that you wear, he will always be with you. Amy, if you continue on like this," Roy picked up the whiskey bottle and swirled the remaining liquid around, "you are going to drink yourself to death. That's not what he would have wanted, at all. I think we both know that he would want you to get help."
Amy's thin shoulders shook under the power of her sobs. "I know, Roy. Will you please save me?"
Ten minutes later, Roy was guiding Amy out to the squad. His partner opened the door and allowed Amy to slide into the middle seat.
"We're gonna take her to Rampart," Roy sighed heavily. "She's agreed to get help finally."
"Nice going, Roy," His partner squeezed his shoulder.
It was a long shift but the next morning, Roy knew he had one more stop to make before he went home. He hadn't yet been to the grave since the funeral. He guessed that nobody from Station 51 had. After the accident the close-knit A shift had splintered. Roy had never realized how much he could have missed Chet's snide remarks, Mike Stoker's fried chicken, hearing Marco singing Spanish songs in the shower, or Johnny and Chet's constant prank war. After the death of their comrade, everybody dealt with the loss in their own way. Some transferred to different stations, different shifts, some even left the LAcoFD.
And there it was. A single gray headstone. Roy felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut. He ran his fingers along the top edge of the stone as he walked in a circle around it, not ready quite yet to stand face to face with it. When he was ready, he knelt down to face the stone, left hand bracing himself against it as tears ran down his cheeks.
The scene came flashing back. That night, Roy had picked up an extra shift for Charlie on B-Shift. He thought it was nice to have some different faces to work with. The shift was a slow one, not much action. Until about 11 that night. Automobile accident with injuries.
The memory was so vivid in his mind, he could smell the gasoline burning as he could when the squad pulled up to the accident scene on a twisty turny backroad. Three vehicles, a burning pickup and a station wagon busted through the guard rail, perching dangerously on the edge of the cliffside. The driver of the car on the cliffside was screaming about her son, who had been ejected.
Roy remembered grabbing her by the arms and holding her tightly facing him. "Mam', where is your son? Where was he ejected?"
"Down there!" the mother had sobbed, pointing over the cliff edge, "He went to get him! He went down there!"
"Who? Who went down there?"
"The man in that car!" She waved at the white suv that was parked in the middle of the road with minimal front end damage, the third car.
Roy had recognized that vehicle but before he could think, the shriek of twisting metal cut off all his thoughts as he watched helplessly as the station wagon started to tip over the edge of the cliff.
The mother screamed, firefighters shouted as they scrambled back from where they had been trying to secure the car, and Roy watched in shock. The kid and the man were still down there! He reported to the Captain, and the team grabbed flashlights and repelling gear. Roy went over first. He could vaguely see two bodies lying halfway down the hill and the sound of a child crying reassured him that at least one was alive. It seemed like forever until he was able to reach them. Once at the bottom, he felt like he was going to throw up. It was his partner, Johnny Gage, who had used his own body to shield the child from the falling car.
Miraculously, the little boy escaped with only a mild concussion, broken leg and many cuts and bruises but Johnny had massive trauma. His bones were crushed and mangled, blood ran from his mouth and ears, and Roy could only imagine what shape his internal organs were in.
Roy had held Johnny's hand in the ambulance, held on for dear life.
"Hey Roy, guess what?" Johnny's voice had been feeble. "I asked Amy to marry me tonight,"
"Really?" Roy tried his hardest to give an optimistic smile, "That's great, junior! When's the wedding?"
"Take care of her for me, Roy. Promise me-"
Roy had cut him off. "Stop it, Johnny. Don't do that. You're going to be fine."
Johnny's crooked grin had twisted Roy's heart around and broke it into a million pieces. "Roy, I ain't dumb. Please...promise me…" Johnny gasped as the ambulance hit some potholes.
"I promise, Johnny," Roy felt Johnny's grip tighten and he saw his partner's jaw clench.
Roy vividly remembered all the blood. So much of it, the smell of it, the sight of it pooling in the yellow plastic stretcher, the red stains spreading through the fibers on Johnny's clothes.
They had been ten minutes from the hospital when Johnny lifted his head a few inches and squeezed Roy's hand. The strength of his grip had been surprising.
"Do you need more morphine?" Roy leaned down close to his partner.
"Make sure to tell Amy that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love her so so much," Johnny stopped and gasped for air as his lungs' capacity was beginning to diminish. "Roy," Johnny's head dropped back down into the bloody stretcher and his eyelids flickered. "I love you, pal."
"No, no, no, Johnny stay awake! Stay with me Johnny!" Roy had frantically tried to rouse his friend as he relayed information to Brackett back at Rampart. But despite his best efforts, Johnny's heart slowed to a stop a few minutes later. The team at Rampart had stood by on their end of the line, tears in their eyes as well as they listened to Roy weep.
Engine and Squad 51 had escorted the hearse to the cemetery the day of the funeral. Roy had helped Mike, Marco, Chet and Cap carry the casket to the graveside. They buried Johnny with the full department honors. A memorial plaque was hung on Station 51, Johnny's name was decaled just below the window on the passenger side door of the Squad.
That day haunted Roy's memory every night. He didn't know how he made it through each day, with so many reminders of his lost friend and partner. He thought maybe it was the will to continue John's legacy, to help the people of Los Angeles county
Three years later, the angel is once again looking down from Heaven.
"What do you see, my child?" God asked.
"I still watch her sometimes, just to make sure she's alright. She's finally living life! She met somebody new, who makes her smile and makes her laugh again," A smile graced the angel's face. "She knows I'll always be with her, in her heart and in her dreams. I promised her forever and that's one promise I intend to keep."
"You have done well, John," God smiled down at his paramedic angel. "Someday, when I walk her through Heaven's gates, you will see her again. Until then, well done good and faithful servant,"
The dark haired angel gave a crooked grin as he stood and continued with God on his walk through the Heavenly city.