Chapter Three

"What?" This time Roy's squawk of disbelief was not muted, and an annoyed muttering came from at least two of the beds in response. "You can't be serious!"

"I wish I wasn't," Johnny groused, his voice so low that DeSoto barely heard it. He grabbed for his bunker pants and boots, which had been knocked under his bed. After some awkward maneuvering, since Gage was in his way, he was able to locate them and pull them out. He crawled off the end of the bed and headed for the kitchen, carrying the boots and not looking to see if his delusional partner was following.

Roy entered the day room and headed for the refrigerator, dropping his gear on the floor by the table. He grabbed two half pints of milk from the fridge and sprawled into a chair. John trudged in a moment later, rubbing his face and yawning. He did an equally graceless drop into a chair and eagerly grabbed up one of the cartons still clutched in Roy's hand, opening it and draining it in several large gulps. He yawned again and propped up his head on the table with an elbow, hand splayed across his face. He shifted sideways and winced, rubbing at his side.

"Exactly what did you mean by again, and how exactly does a ghost push you out of bed?" Roy inquired softly, setting his own milk carton down and watching Gage trying to keep his eyes open. The other man focused and squinted back at him.

"Twice upstairs in that house I felt a hand on my back pushing; the second time I ended up traveling down those stairs faster than I wanted. And now, well, she just pushed me out, like this…" He held both of his hands up, palms vertical, and made a pushing motion. He shook his head and quirked his eyebrow up at DeSoto's expression.

"Look, I don't want to believe it myself, so why should you? All I know is that somehow I ended up on the floor…" An expression of pain played across his face and he raised up his white t-shirt and looked down at his right side. His expression abruptly changed to one of disbelief, matching the one that was still plastered on Roy's face. He stood up, now completely awake. Still holding the shirt, he threw an anguished look towards his partner.

"Roy…look at this and tell me that this isn't what I think it is….."

Roy leaned over and looked at the expanse of skin that Johnny was baring. His jaw dropped as he saw the vivid imprint of a hand.

"Uh, she used two hands? You got another one of those?"

John snorted, dropped the t-shirt, and slid up the leg of his blue boxers. Another handprint was clearly visible at the top of his hip. He let out his breath in a loud explosion of noise and dropped back into the chair, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He dropped the hand to the table, leaving his hair standing up in scattered tufts to match the wild look in his eyes.

"I don't know what to say," the blonde haired paramedic finally admitted, running a hand over his face and then through his hair, mimicking Gage's movements. Another thought struck him, and he glanced warily at the slumped shoulders next to him. "What about your back, where the ghost…uh…she, it, pushed you in the house?"

A groan was his answer, and John rose to his feet once again, kicking the chair away from him. He pulled up the tail of his t-shirt and waited. Roy stood up and gingerly took hold of the material; remembering how his friend had reacted to his reassuring touch earlier he tried not to touch him. Using two fingers on each hand, he pulled the cotton material up to John's neck. One quick look at his back and he dropped the shirt and yanked it back down a little harder than necessary. He spun around and opened the fridge. He grabbed two more cartons of milk and threw them down on the table, wishing that there was something stronger to drink.

"There's another one, isn't there?" Gage queried, pushing the backwards chair up hard against the table and plopping back into it. He closed his eyes and laid his head down on his crossed arms on the back of the chair.

"Yep."

The two men sat in silence for several uncomfortable minutes, both visibly jumping when a somber voice spoke from the doorway. It was Marco, leaning against the door frame. "How come I wasn't invited to the slumber party, guys?" He hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and grinned when the medics just stared at him in confusion.

Roy blinked, took in the sight of the fireman clad in pants and boots, and realized that he and Johnny were sitting in the kitchen of the firehouse at three in the morning, clad only in their underwear and drinking milk. This shift was just getting better and better. He couldn't help the snicker of amusement as he realized that with the exception of their required black socks, both he and Gage were inadvertently showing off their patriotism with their red, white, and blue, shorts and tees.

He looked from Marco to John, who had dropped his head back down and seemed lost in his own world. He cleared his throat and played with the milk carton. "Well, I guess it is Johnny's story to tell."

"Go right ahead," Gage muttered, apparently not so far away after all. "I mean, really, you don't believe in ghosts so I'd like to hear you explain this away." He raised his head up and glared at his partner, his eyes surprisingly blood shot and fatigue etching deep lines in his pale skin. His agitation was clearly visible in the way his hands, now on the tabletop, clenched and unclenched.

Lopez moved into the room, interest piqued. "Ghosts? Where?"

With some hesitation, Roy related the story, ending with the handprints. Marco bent slightly to look at Johnny, who uncharacteristically bared his teeth in a fierce grimace at DeSoto but obligingly yanked up the t-shirt once more to let the lineman view the bruise.

"Wow," Marco breathed. He grabbed up the milk carton that Johnny hadn't touched and ripped it open. Roy lifted his eyebrows and wondered at Marco's obvious excitement.

"You believe in ghosts?" He queried; there was no mistaking the disbelief that laced his voice. Without looking, he could feel the force of Gage's glare piercing through him that seemed to be increasing in its intensity.

"Don't you?" Marco asked, then mumbled something in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like "no crees en fantasmas!" to Roy, but whatever it was Johnny apparently understood, for the younger man terminated his icy stare and now directed his attention towards Lopez, who clarified. "I'm Catholic, Roy, of course I believe."

"Well, that means I believe too," a sleepy voice drawled from the doorway. "Although I'm Irish Catholic….so what is it we believe in?"

Chet stumbled into the room, suspenders hanging down and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He tried to cover a huge yawn and only partially succeeded. He braced his arms on the table and looked at each man, taking second looks at Lopez and Gage, who both seemed to be vibrating with some kind of strange emotion. Lopez did the explaining this time, beginning his story with "it all started with a séance" and ending the slightly embellished tale with "and now Alice is here with us."

Switching his attention away from the storyteller, Chet leaned forward and peered at Johnny, who was now scowling at no one in particular. He finally rotated his head to confront Kelly.

"What?" He barked out, sitting fully upright and gripping the back of his seat.

"Gentlemen," Chet intoned solemnly, his voice so low and menacing that Roy felt goosebumps crawling up his arms. "Alice is not only among us, I think she has possessed our young friend here."

"Aw man!" Johnny groaned, clunking his head down on the chair back; luckily his hands were still there and protected his forehead from harm. He bounced back up and glowered at Chet, who was still only inches away from him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just look at his eyes, guys. Clearly she has him in her malevolent clutches…" his voice trailed off as Gage sprang out of his chair with a squawk of dismay and disappeared into the bay, presumably to check his eyes in the squad's mirror.

Chet somberly studied Roy, thinking that the remaining medic in the room wasn't quite acting like he had anticipated. Shouldn't he be more upset, since he had just found out that his partner and friend was clearly sharing his personal space with a crazy chick? Marco was exhibiting the correct response, a mixture of horror and understanding playing across his face. Roy, however, had his head cradled in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking in…laughter? Chet straightened up and clamped his hands on his hips, lips pursed in disapproval.

"Roy, you really need to take this more seriously."

"You two, you two…."Roy hiccupped, trying to force out words around his laughter. "I don't know how you managed it, but this has got to be the best prank you've ever played. And to pull it off with Gage, you two together, that's beyond belief!"

His laughter slowed and then died as he realized that the two firemen were not joining him in his merriment, nor cracking even the tiniest bits of smiles. He stood up, his mouth dropping open as he looked from one to the other and realized that they were in earnest.

"Now wait a minute, you're kidding, right?"

Marco vehemently shook his head, the fingers on one hand nervously playing with his suspenders. "No Roy, this is no joke. Chet may have gone a little far with the possession business, at least this early in the game, but Johnny definitely has something, or someone, that doesn't belong in this world, after him…."

~TBC~