Chapter Four

Chet frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, Gage?"

Johnny stood and went over to his rucksack. He pulled a rather odd-looking device out of it. He flipped it open and pressed a button. He waited a moment. A distinctive British accent answered almost immediately. "Bat Cave here, Shadow, where the 'ell are ya mate?"

"Oh, you are not gonna believe this one, but I need some help. I need an extraction for me and a friend, as well as a DB."

"I'll let you explain it to the boss. Got yer coordinates. Figger on about 2200. No use makin' the natives any more restless than they are. Either of ya 'urt then?"

Shadow smirked. "I got another concussion I think, and we're both a bit banged up, but we'll be fine till then."

"Good enough, but you best be prepared for the 'ot seat, mate!"

"Not the first time, likely won't be the last."

"Roger that. Bat Cave Out."

"Shadow, Out.

Chet stared at his friend. "You wanna explain what that was all about?"

"Well, Chet, looks like you're gonna get a brief look at the other side of my life... at least the life I had before I came to Los Angeles. I don't spend as much time with my old team now, but we were practically inseparable for a lotta years. They are still working together, and I join them once in a while. I still keep up my license... just to keep my hand in the game."

Chet eyed Gage, feeling as if he was seeing not his friend and station-mate, but a complete stranger. "What kind of game?"

Johhny ran his hand through his hair, betraying his nervousness. "I was a mercenary, Chet. I'm former Special Forces. I was trained as an assassin. A sniper." His last words came out so softly that Chet wasn't sure he had even heard them for sure. But the look in John's eyes told him everything he needed to know. There was no need for him to repeat the words.

Chet was a vet. He had known a few Special Forces guys. Had the greatest respect in the world for them... but he never in the world expected that John had been one of them. In fact, he had always assumed John had never even served in the military. He just didn't seem the type. He seemed too sensitive... almost too soft. Obviously, Chet was way wrong about that assumption. He looked over at the paramedic. "So, what happens now?"

John smiled, a little wearily. "Now, I am gonna go get us a couple rabbits for lunch, and then we're gonna start breaking camp. Put together everything we wanna take with us. My guys will be here tonight, 2200. We need to be ready by then. If anything more happens to me in the meantime, you need to be able to tell them everything that happened here.

Chet's eyes widened at the thought, but he realized that John was right, and he agreed to do his best. He did have a question. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be going off hunting like that? I mean, shouldn't you go ahead and rest? After all, there is still a lot of food in the chest over there. I can take care of us, you know. I don't really think your friends are going to appreciate it if I let you wander off and let you get yourself killed at this point."

John blinked and sat back. He had automatically slipped into survival mode. He had honestly forgotten about the footlocker. And he could have kicked himself. This only confirmed to the paramedic that he was not operating at full capacity, because he had prepared breakfast and coffee from the supplies in the footlocker, and then gone ahead with his preparations to hunt when he had seen all the MREs and other supplies that were available.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. That concussion had definitely done a number on him. He looked over at Chet. The man was sitting on his bedroll, gazing off into the distance. His expression was unreadable, but Johnny knew this all had to be a shock to him. The hard part was yet to come, because John knew that Chet could never be allowed to tell anyone else what he knew... about the team, or about John's double life. This was something that Johnny had carefully hidden since he was 16 years old. He was not about to reveal this secret to anyone now. Not for any reason. And so, Chet would have to forget. That was the reason that a certain member of the team would be flying in on the rescue chopper tonight...

~51~

It was late afternoon when it happened again. John had another grand mal. And like the night before, he was unconscious for about twenty minutes. Chet was a little better prepared this time, but it was still a frightening experience. He kept his cool and dealt with it. As before, when John came to, he was Shadow. He said little but seemed to be aware that they were in the process of breaking camp. Chet simply went along with him and hoped that nothing would set off the mercenary before his team arrived, or that John would make his reappearance. To say that Chet was uncomfortable with the situation was a huge understatement.

One thing that Shadow's presence did help was when he went to dig up their pilot's body. He insisted that Chet work at putting their supplies together, and he insisted he could handle the unburial detail himself, and he did. That was when Chet wondered how he could have missed how tough and strong John really was. He handled the Pulaski and shovel as if the rocks and dirt were nothing. Somehow it was pretty scary. Shadow was incredibly fit and strong... almost like a whole different person.

Unlike the last time, Shadow seemed to stay around for a while. Chet was not sure if this was a manifestation of the head injury, or if John was simply allowing Chet to see his other side. It was confusing, so he decided his best course of action was to simply stay quiet, and just roll with whatever happened.

His plan might have worked if just after they had finished eating a couple of the MRE's for dinner and settling down with cups of coffee, John hadn't suddenly cried out and clutched his head in agony. Without another word, he toppled over, and passed out cold. Nothing Chet did roused him, and it didn't take a genius to realize the paramedic was suddenly in big trouble.

As he riffled through John's pockets, searching for the radio he had seen him stash there, Chet just hoped he could get Shadow's team to answer him. He had a feeling it might be his friend's only chance. He found it finally, and just before he switched it on, he glowered at his Pigeon. "Don't you die on me, damnit. You do, and I will never forgive you!"

It took a couple of minutes to figure out how to turn the thing on, as it was a little more high-tech than he was used to. He wasn't about to stand on ceremony, so Chet simply dispensed with codes or niceties. "Hey, is anybody out there? I'm with Shadow and he's in trouble!"

There was silence for a few moments, and then a deep, gravelly voice, definitely not the cheerful Cockney from earlier in the day boomed over the speaker. "Who is this? What are you doing on this channel?"

"Look, my name is Chet. I'm the guy with Shadow. He's hurt. He passed out from a head injury. I know he gave you guys our coordinates, and you're supposed to meet us in a few hours, but I don't think he's got that long."

The voice growled back, "Standby."

Chet waited for a few frustrated moments. Finally, the Cockney voice came on. "Okay, lad, sit tight. We've a team on our way to you. Try to keep 'im warm. Are you ready to move everythin' outta there?"

Chet snorted. "Yeah, the site is as packed out as we could make it. What does that matter? John-Shadow-could be dyin' here!"

The voice sharpened. "It matters, lad! Believe me. It matters. Just stay where you are. The team'll be there within the hour... two choppers. One for you an' Shadow... an' one clean-up crew. We'll have you safe an' sound back in yer flat on Pinedale Avenue before you know it, lad. Bat Cave out."

The connection was broken, and it was a full ten minutes before Chet realized the unknown Englishman had referenced his apartment building. He stared at the pale form of his friend. Who the hell were these people? He had a really strong feeling that he probably would never know. On the other hand, he was equally sure he really didn't want to know. He dampened a cloth and sponged his friend's forehead. It might not do much good, but if it provided any comfort at all, he had to try.

True to their word, it was just about 45 minutes later, when two eerily silent choppers landed in the field nearby. About a dozen men dressed in black embarked from both choppers, and things happened very quickly after that. Chet and Shadow were loaded into the nearest one, along with their gear, and they took off after less than five minutes on the ground. Chet glanced out the side window and saw that the crash site had become a hive of activity. He realized that they were loading anything salvageable from the site. He was also well aware of what a military clean-up team was capable of accomplishing. By morning, no one would be able to discern there had even been a crash here.

He turned to look at the rescuer who had introduced himself as Finn. "Why the secrecy? Why scrub the site? If it had just been me and John involved, and Shadow hadn't shown up, then we would have just hiked out and nobody would have been the wiser. What makes Shadow so different? Nobody is gonna care about that

plane crash in the long run. Not once the people are outta there."

The mercenary leveled bright blue eyes on him. He ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. His voice held a hint of amusement. "If I told you that, I'd have ta kill ya!"

Chet grimaced. "Yeah, Shadow said something like to me before."

The soldier smiled apologetically. "It's just the way it has to be. Makes it easier on you."

Chet frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Less for you to have to forget."

"Huh?"

Chet felt the slight prick of the needle in his neck, but never saw who administered the drug that knocked him out.

Wolfchild looked over at her lover, Stone. "I hate sneaking up on people like that." As the team medic, she had been tending to Shadow in the back and also monitoring the conversation between the two soldiers and the other man they had rescued... the one called Chet. She had taken her cue when Stone had nicked his head towards her and Finn had told Chet he would have less to forget.

The sedative itself was mild and would last only a few hours. The other drug included was the most important one. It was one that Page had developed in his lab down in the Bat Cave. It was a powerful amnesiate. It would wipe out all that had befallen the lineman over the last 72 hours... and then enable Wolfchild or Stone to implant alternate memories and install him in his apartment. It would take a little teamwork, and the death of the pilot would be a bit hard to work around, but basically, the entire incident would not have happened by the team was finished.

Wolfchild looked over at Stone. "One thing I will say for Chet. He is good. Shadow's going to be alright, given time. But he wouldn't have survived without the care his friend gave him. He's going to need surgery... I think it's a hematoma. Won't know for sure till we get him to hospital."

Stone's black eyes were solemn. He and Shadow were very close. They were both Natives, though Stone was Samoan. In many ways, the two men thought very much alike. "You sure he's gonna make it?"

Wolfchild tossed her dark braid. "He may end up with another scar or two, but yeah, I think he will. Now, we need to check in with the Boss, and get to work."

The two men agreed, and Phase Two began.

Three Weeks Later

And indeed, they did "get to work." As it turned out, John Gage and Chet Kelly did not go flying over the weekend. Instead, they went on a rather disastrous camping trip. John fell while hiking, and Chet got him to a small clinic, where he received help for his head injury. The pilot died over the weekend of a heart attack. His body was shipped to New York to be buried.

John had time off due to his injury, though Chet came back after a few days off to recuperate from his various bumps and bruises. He regaled his shift-mates with stories of the rescue of John from his fall over the cliff, and of the lousy fishing. None of the men were surprised at the fish stories, since it seemed as if none of them had much luck with fishing. Cap was pretty much ready to throttle his junior lineman every time he opened his mouth at that point, because it was no secret that he absolutely despised fish. A couple of pointed threats regarding latrine duty finally shut the irrepressible lineman up and sent him hunting around for tricks to pull on John, planning for his favorite target's return to duty.

As for John? Well, if he was just a bit more guarded and quieter on his return, everyone simply chalked it up to his recent fall, and kept an eye on him for just a while. It wasn't long before things got back completely to normal...

~The End~