Warnings: mild language, canonical injury to a main character
Did the best I could to follow the dialogue for the ep with this one, pretty much watched the scene as I wrote it. Please let me know if something is off so I can fix it.
Just a reminder, I'm going on a month's hiatus with this fic following this chapter. I'm trying to figure out exactly where it's going to go, and I definitely don't want to put something up here that's rushed and not up to par. Thank you all for being so lovely and understanding. Please remember to leave a review and let me know what you think!
"Hey, Cap," Johnny said, jogging over from where the chopper just took off, "I left the handie-talkie down below. I'm gonna go get it, okay?"
Marco watched from the engine, packing away the equipment they'd been using earlier with Mike and Chet. Of course he left it. He's a good kid, but he'd lose his head if it weren't attached. Chet shook his head faintly. Marco's heart was slowing down after the adrenaline rush of the rescue. It had been a rough one, but there were no fatalities, and Marco was always pleased when there were no fatalities. Everyone was, particularly when it looked as bad as this one.
"Did you hear that?" Chet asked.
"Hear what?"
"Marco, it sounded like a shout… was it Johnny?"
"Maybe. I didn't hear anything."
Chet pursed his lips under his moustache, clearly worried about something. Marco opened his mouth, started to say Johnny probably just fell, probably just went ass-over-teakettle and startled himself.
"Engine 51, this is John. Uh… I've been bit by a rattlesnake."
Cap's order was immediate.
"Chet, Marco, move."
It was an order he didn't need to give. They heard Cap on the H/T to dispatch, "LA, this is Engine 51. We have a paramedic bitten by a rattlesnake. Engine 51 is no longer available. Time out, one hour. I repeat, paramedic bitten by a rattlesnake…"
The two linemen were bounding down the hillside. Tractor 2 came into sight. In front of him, Chet gave a panicked shout of, "Johnny!" to which Hector replied, "Over here," directing them to come around behind the tractor where he was holding Johnny up. He already looked a little pale and sweaty. Shit, this might be really bad. Marco knew not every bite was deadly. A rattler wouldn't waste its venom trying to scare something off. Honestly, he hoped this would be one of those things where Johnny was just overreacting, where he scared himself and got worried. It did not look like this was the case.
He and Chet half-carried Johnny to the tractor, trying to keep the bitten leg from moving and pumping the venom through his blood faster. Johnny looked outwardly calm. Surely, he knew panic would only serve to get his blood racing… but outward calm meant nothing. Marco had no doubt he was freaking out under that composed exterior. Between Johnny and Hector, there was only room for one more in the cab, and while Marco was worried for his friend, Chet was definitely moreso. Marco helped Johnny up and hurried around to the rear of the tractor, climbing onto the back and hanging on tight.
"Squad 51, we have Rampart on the landline. They're requesting vital signs."
"Alright, Rampart, as soon as we get outta here," Johnny replied.
Hector spoke up, "Alright… it's gonna be a short trip, boys. Engine 51, Tractor 2, coming up."
"10-4, Tractor 2."
The engine of the tractor roared into life, the stack belching black smoke before lurching up the hill. Marco held on tighter. Hector promised a quick trip, but it felt like forever before the tractor finally reached the top. He couldn't see Chet and Johnny, couldn't hear them over the tractor engine. Cap and Mike were waiting for them. Mike's expression was guarded worry. The tractor came to a halt, and Marco climbed around to the cab. Chet said, "Let's get him outta here. Let's get him out."
Mike and Cap each took one of Johnny's legs, Marco and Chet holding him at the shoulder and armpit. Johnny was panting now. They all but ran to the engine.
Mike was the first up, wrapping an arm around Johnny's legs and easily scaling the back of the engine to get him settled against the hose. The paramedic mumbled, "Okay, okay… alright…" as Chet scrambled up over the back, Marco not far behind.
"Gimme the drug box," Johnny told Marco, settling himself and getting the H/T ready, "LA, this is Squad 51. Can you notify Rampart and please set up for a relay of vital signs?"
"10-4, 51."
Chet fixed the tourniquet higher, trying to stem the flow of venom. Together, Marco, Chet, and Cap got Johnny all set up for blood pressure, standing by for whatever he needed. The panting was getting worse. Chet looked scared. Johnny was still pretending to be calm.
"Marco, set up an IV…"
He did as he was told.
"LA, Squad 51. Vital signs are… pulse 95, respirations 18, BP is 120 over 65."
"51, Rampart advises IV with Ringer's lactate."
"10-4, Rampart… okay…"
Marco repressed a shudder, knowing what was coming next. Johnny told Chet, "Swab me down… No, here… okay… okay, I got it… Get the ball…"
He pumped the cuff, making the veins pop in his arm, said, "Swab it again."
Chet scrambled to obey. Johnny braced his arm against his thigh.
"Well… here goes… ah!"
Marco couldn't bring himself to watch the needle go in, busied himself with the IV bag instead. He heard Chet ripping off pieces of tape, making sure the IV would be secure.
"Get the cannula… okay…"
Once Johnny checked everything, he asked for the IV and got it hooked up, said, "Now lemme adjust the drip, Marco. Just gimme a drip."
Cap watched anxiously the whole time, his nervous energy beginning to infect the two linemen. Poor Cap… he must feel so bad, probably feels like it's his fault. Marco carefully held the IV bag, briefly wondering where Mike was. I should know better. He's been sitting in the driver's seat the whole time. Mike was probably itching to go, hands gripping the steering wheel.
"Okay, Cap. Let's get me outta here," Johnny said, examining his IV once more.
Cap turned to Marco, telling him, "Now, Lopez, you bring in the squad. Let's get going."
Marco passed Chet the IV bag, muttered, "Better put your helmet on," gave Johnny a quick pat on the shoulder. Cap was already almost in the cab. Marco grabbed the wheel block on the driver's side and tossed it into the back, briefly locking eyes with Mike as he passed. As soon as Marco was clear, Mike started backing the engine up the dirt road. Marco watched them in the rearview mirror, could see Chet sitting up, helmet firmly atop his head. Drive fast, Mike, and drive safe. I know you will.
xXxXx
"LA, Engine 51. We're transporting the snakebite victim to Rampart Emergency. ETA is thirty minutes," Cap reported.
"10-4, 51. Rampart requests an update on patient's condition."
There was a short delay, and Mike heard Johnny respond, "LA, this is Engine 51. Patient is experiencing numbness around the mouth, and he's somewhat drowsy."
He didn't sound good.
"Engine 51, you're breaking up. Engine 51, you're breaking up and unreadable. Repeat."
Cap swore under his breath and grabbed the radio, saying, "LA, Engine 51. Repeating. Patient is experiencing numbness around the mouth, also drowsiness."
"10-4, 51."
Sam's voice was calm, but that was his job, to remain calm when everything else was going to hell. There was no relay from Rampart. There's nothing else we can do. Mike tightened his grip on the steering wheel and adjusted his position in the seat. He ran through the routes in his mind, quickly coming up with the fastest for the engine and squad. Cap was tense beside him, his eyes fixed behind them, fixed on his men in the back. In the mirrors, Mike could see only dust. Sorry, babe, but there's really no way to drive easy right now. Mike pressed the gas down a little harder, readying the clutch to change gears. Speed was what they needed now, speed and care.
About seven minutes later, Cap called in, "LA, Engine 51. Notify Rampart. Our ETA is now fifteen minutes."
Sam acknowledged their call. Cap swore again, still looking to the back of the engine. Mike felt the engine hit pavement. He pushed in the clutch and shifted gears up, pushing the gas pedal down, determined to shave more time off their ETA. No one could do it better, not where Johnny is concerned. Mike never liked having to speed like this. Obviously, it was a point of pride for an engineer to get somewhere as fast as possible, but this was different entirely. Johnny was a friend, a good friend. He didn't even want to begin to think about him dying. Bobby's funeral last year had been bad. Mike didn't think any of them would survive Johnny's funeral. He shifted gears again, pushing Big Red, her engine growling as if to protect the men in her care. You'll get us there, my girl, just like you always do. Take us home.
Cap made a soft noise beside him as he pulled Big Red into Rampart's emergency entrance. Mike took the time to carefully back her in at the ambulance entrance. By the time he got out of the cab, Cap and Chet were getting Johnny down and onto a gurney. Mike hung back, wanting desperately to help but not wanting to be in the way. Johnny didn't look good, looked pale and clammy and sweaty. Marco stepped up beside him, murmured, "C'mon, Mike… let's go in and wait for him," put gentle pressure on his back to lead him into the hospital. Chet was still with Johnny, holding the IV bag.
The followed the gurney, stopping at the open door. Roy was already in there. That's good. Poor Roy's probably been worried sick. Mike's stomach gave an uncomfortable flop. His fingers twitched against his hip, wanted to grab Marco's hand, wanted an anchor. The door swung shut. Johnny's life was out of their hands.
xXxXx
The door opened, and Dixie and Roy stepped out of the treatment room.
"How's he doin'?" Cap asked.
"We'll know soon," Dixie replied, leaning against the doorframe.
Marco felt Mike standing close to him, took a small amount of comfort from the warmth and proximity. Dixie looked around, told them gently, "Why don't you guys go get a cup of coffee or somethin'?"
That was her code for 'I know you're worried, so go be together. We're all waiting.' They'd heard it plenty of times before, five of them crowded around a treatment room door, just waiting. Go get some coffee. We'll do our best. Get some coffee. Comfort each other. Mike led the way, his shoulders slumped. Roy hung back with Dixie, which was his privilege. Johnny was his partner.
The hospital break room was not far away. Dr. Early was there, wearing scrubs and sipping coffee. His expression darkened when he saw three of them come in. Marco could see his wheels turning, trying to figure out who was hurt of the missing three, finally asking, "Who is it?"
"Johnny," Marco replied quietly, "He was bit by a rattlesnake."
Mike handed him a cup of coffee as Dixie and Roy came in. Roy paused, looked around at all of them, cleared his throat, explained, "They have to make sure Johnny isn't allergic to the antivenom. It'll be twenty minutes before they're sure enough to give it to him, but-"
His mouth snapped shut after his voice cracked, and he turned to get himself some coffee.
"Johnny has everything going for him," Dixie told them, "He's young, healthy, strong. There's no reason he won't bounce back from this."
No one replied, not even Early. Too often they'd seen someone with everything going for them succumb to the odds. None of them mentioned Chet, either. Chet and Johnny were good friends. He'd sat with Johnny the whole time, took care of him on the back of the engine, watched him slip into unconsciousness. That must have been rough. An uncomfortable silence hung over the small room. After a short time, Dixie took Roy back to the treatment room, leaving the rest of them in the break room with Early.
Marco stood by Mike at the window, wanting the comfort of being near him, looking out over the parking lot. It was bright and sunny. The weather always seemed to be bright and clear when no one had any cause for happiness. Marco looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had just passed. They would get word soon.
Everyone turned at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, running footsteps. The door to the break room banged open, making all of them jump. Chet wore a big silly grin as he told them all, "Brackett's givin' Johnny the antivenom now. Said he's gonna be just fine."
Marco felt himself grin in return. Roy wasn't far behind. He came in and confirmed what Chet told them, stopping to talk in depth with Cap and Early. Chet made his way over to Marco and Mike, still smiling. Marco pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around him, just held him for a moment. Mike hugged him, too. They'd had a hard day, after all.
"You okay, Chet?" Mike asked softly, trying to stay out of earshot of the other three.
"Yeah, I'm okay now. It was just-… It was just really scary, y'know?" Chet replied, his voice low, "He hung in there for a long time, actually, didn't pass out 'til we were practically to Rampart. He was pretty out of it just before, though. Was tellin' me-… well… he was pretty out of it."
Curiosity niggled at the back of Marco's mind, but he chose not to pry. What had passed between Chet and Johnny was not his business. He simply said, "Well, Brackett said he was gonna be alright, so he will be. You did real good today, Chet. Real good."
"Aw, I didn't do any-"
"You did plenty, manito. You stayed with Johnny and took care of him when he needed it. I don't exactly call that nothing," Marco told him, "You did real good."
The blue eyes looked like they still didn't quite believe him.
xXxXx
"Hey, Mike," Hank called to his engineer, "Now that we know Johnny's alright, why don't you go move the engine outta the way, pal?"
"Sure thing, Cap."
The man moved quickly, presumably to return soon. Early was called to check on a patient, and Roy went to speak to Chet and Marco. Hank sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This had been a close one, much too close. He played the situation over in his head, heard Johnny's calm radio call, wondered what could've been different. What if Chet or Marco had gone down there? He hoped no one saw him shiver. Everyone had done such a good job today. No other station could have done so well, been so calm. Not that I was necessarily calm, but at least we didn't kill anyone on the way here.
Hank looked to the men left in the room with him. They would have to return to work soon, even after what they'd just been through, even though Roy's partner would be replaced as soon as someone could come in, even though their friend lay in a hospital bed. He'd called them out for one hour, an hour soon to be over. I should call in additional time out. They would want to see Johnny before they left, that was for certain.
"Cap, did you hear me?"
He blinked. Roy was in front of him, looking concerned again.
"Sorry, Roy. I'm fine. Just thinkin'… what'd you say?"
"Just I'm gonna go ask Dix if we can see Johnny before we leave. See him in his recovery room, I mean. He should be goin' there soon."
"That's fine with me. Come back and let us know, alright?"
Additional time was definitely needed. Not much more, but more. Marco and Chet continued to speak in low voices by the window. Hank informed them he was stepping out into the hallway. He made his way over to the payphone, placing a call to their battalion chief and explaining the situation.
"Oh, Hank, you're fine. Don't worry about it."
"You're sure?"
"Of course. No one was gonna bother you 'til you called in available. You fellas have a right to make sure your man is okay before you leave. Besides, we're still tryin' to get in a replacement for Gage."
"Thank you, sir. We appreciate it."
Mike returned only a minute or so before Roy.
"Dixie's gonna take us up to see him once he's settled," Roy explained, "Brackett said Johnny's vitals are getting stronger, too, so he's sure Johnny's gonna be just fine."
The relief was palpable. Mike came over to Hank wearing a small smile.
"Shoulda known he'd be alright," Mike said quietly, "What's the old saying? 'God protects fools, drunks, and the United States.' Shoulda known…"
Hank hummed in agreement, said, "That's why our shift is still here, that's for sure."
They stood together quietly for a moment before Mike asked, "Are you alright, Cap?"
"It shows?"
"On you? Yeah, it shows. You care too much to be able to hide it."
Stoker, you 'lil shit… Hank snorted quietly and replied, "Well, I think I'm allowed. That was a scary thing that happened today. Coulda happened to any one of us during that rescue. I didn't even think of that 'til we got here. Any one of us coulda been bit."
"S'pose that's true," Mike agreed, "but it happened to Johnny, happened after we got all the victims out. In a way, we were lucky, 'cause Johnny knew exactly what to do."
"I know, but I hate to feel that way, Mike. I'm supposed to look out for you fellas, not pick and choose who gets hurt 'cause they'll handle it best."
"Oh, c'mon, you didn't know that rattlesnake was down there. None of us did."
Someday, Mike, you'll be a captain, a damn fine one, and then you'll understand. Hank sighed. Another few moments passed in silence.
"Chet did a good job today," Mike spoke up.
He did. He did a wonderful job. Chet and Johnny would both be receiving recommendations for commendations. What they did today in the face of fear and potential tragedy was incredible. Hank replied simply, "That he did."
All his boys had done an amazing job today. They all remained calm, all kept their heads, all forced down whatever panic they had to make sure Johnny would make it. Roy ruffled Chet's hair, receiving a quiet huff of laughter and a light shove in response. They all had a peculiar bond, these firemen. They could argue with each other, get on each other's nerves, sometimes be downright cruel to each other… but in a crisis that all went away. What happened in the past was long gone and forgotten, at least for the moment, and all that mattered was that a fellow fireman needed help. It was very much like brotherhood but stronger somehow. Blood didn't always stay together, could be washed away, could be abandoned under certain circumstances when it was the only tie. A man chose to join the fire department, chose to be brother to thousands.
The door opened behind him, and Dixie poked her head in, saying, "He's all settled in, fellas. Follow me. Just be warned, he might be a little out of it."
xXxXx
Roy held back at the elevator. It was a split second hesitation, but it was there. He'd been so worried. It almost felt like the end of the world was approaching and he could see it coming. Snakebites were fickle. What killed one person would barely injure another. It was the type of bite, the type of snake, the type of venom, everything. And there was nothin' I could do… He felt so useless, so helpless. He just had to stand there and listen to Johnny treat himself, listen to Cap frantically call in updates, listen to Sam relay everything but able to hear their voices in his head clear as a bell.
Marco stood by him as they walked down the corridor. He'd have to speak with Marco later… or Mike. He'd gotten the most pressing information on what happened, certainly, but he needed more. Chet was too close to it. He heard Chet was with Johnny on the back of the engine the whole way in. I like to think I'm Johnny's best friend, but Chet sure runs a close second. They were an odd combination, and occasionally a destructive one, but they worked together well and clearly cared for one another.
The guys allowed Roy into the room first, alone with Dixie. Johnny's lower right leg was swollen about the calf and ankle, with some bruising around the bite site that was a very dark red. The brown eyes were glazed over and lidded, though he offered Roy a tired, goofy smile.
"Hey, Junior," Roy said quietly, "heard you had a hard day."
"Yeah… kinda did…"
His brows knitted after he said that, his eyes blearily scanning the room. The younger man wet his lips, fixed his eyes on Roy as best he could, said with some effort, "You… you weren't there, Roy."
Something twisted in Roy's chest as he agreed, "No, I wasn't."
"Where were you? Why weren't you there?"
"Because I was here… at Rampart. I flew in with the accident victims, remember, Johnny?"
A moment passed before recognition came over Johnny's face, the concern washing away and the goofy smile returning. That's better. Roy stepped closer, his hip pressed against the hospital bed.
"Did Dixie tell ya, Roy? Didja tell 'im, Dix?"
"Tell him what, Johnny?"
"I-I gave m'self an IV, Roy… an' I did a pretty good job of it."
"I heard. I was at the bay station the whole time. You did a great job… though your bedside manner probably needed some work, I think."
"Yeah… yeah, s'pose it did."
He lapsed into silence for a moment, and Roy thought maybe he'd fallen asleep for a moment until the young man spoke. Johnny's voice was low and quiet as he told Roy, "Y'know, I'se really scared. It was real scary."
"I can't imagine."
"I wish you were there… but not if I died. I wouldn' want ya there if I died."
"Why not?"
Honestly, I'm not sure I'd wanna be there for that, either. He didn't voice that, however, only let Johnny continue, " 'Cause it'd hurt ya pretty bad, Roy. I seen what happened t' Mike when he watched his friend die… an' I seen a good friend'a mine die, 'member? 's no good, pal…"
Roy ducked his head. Of course. Drew Burke died only a month ago, killed when an old man accidentally hit him with a car. Johnny took it pretty hard. Roy blinked back the sudden onset of tears at the thought of Johnny dying there on the back of the engine or in the treatment room. That would be a tragedy. Johnny was too young, too promising, too good. Roy sniffed loudly and told Johnny, "I-I'm really glad you're alright."
"Me, too. Y'know, Chet did a damn good job today. Damn good. He stayed wi' me the whole time… least, 'm pretty sure he did, anyway… I asked 'im to, anyway…"
"He did. He stayed with you. He brought you in, and he was with you until Brackett gave you the antivenom, and he was the first one to tell the guys you were okay."
"He's a good guy. I know I-I-I give 'im some shit, but I really do like 'im. Is he outside?"
"Yeah, do you wanna talk to him? All the guys wanna see you."
"Send Chet in first?"
The brown eyes were glazed and somewhat confused but still very concerned. There was another twisting sensation in Roy's chest, different from the first, this one closer to jealousy. He pushed it away. This is not the time or the place.
"I'll send him in," Roy told his partner, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.
Chet looked fairly surprised but went in, leaving everyone else in the corridor. Roy wished he knew the reason for the small streak of jealousy. He knew Johnny was his friend, his partner, always would be, however, Chet was his friend, too. Chet was the one there for him during this ordeal, not Roy. Chet was the one helping him and sitting with him and keeping him calm… not Roy. It made sense for Johnny to want to see him. A hand settled on Roy's shoulder, squeezing gently.
Marco's expression was warm and comforting. Good friends. We have some damn good friends on this shift. Roy could picture Cap's concern, Mike's careful speed with the engine, Marco dutifully following in the squad with worry in his face, Chet's masked fear as he sat with Johnny. He knew he shouldn't feel bad or helpless or anything like that. Roy had done his job. He'd taken the patients to the hospital, taken care of them, done his duty, helped the citizens of LA County like he'd sworn to do. There was no way of knowing his partner would get snakebit. So why do I feel like shit?
Johnny was released from the hospital after a few days, the swelling in his leg down considerably. Roy came to pick him up at Rampart. The young paramedic grinned up at him from the wheelchair Dixie pushed him out in, complaining lightly that he could walk just fine but to no avail. Neither Dixie nor Roy was giving any ground.
"Alright, Johnny, you behave yourself," Dixie told him, smirking.
"You know I try."
"You do not. Keep an eye on him, Roy. Make sure he follows instructions."
"Dix, you know I try… and you know it doesn't always work."
"That I do, Roy."
Johnny still had a bit of a limp he tried to hide, which was typical Johnny. That was his MO, make the small things seem like a big deal and the big things like nothing at all. Roy took Johnny to his house.
"Thought Joanne and the kids would be here waitin' for me," Johnny commented.
"Yeah, they've got a birthday party… one Chris's friends from school. They'll be back in a couple hours. Then you're gonna get it."
"Yeah, don't I know it…"
His brown eyes looked over the living room, finally rested on Roy.
"I'm okay, Roy," he said softly, "They took care of me, the fellas."
"I-I know, just-… c'mon, Junior, I know you know how it feels."
"Yeah, I do. Even though you did your job, you feel like you failed your friend. Been there, done that. We all have. C'mere, pal…"
Roy hesitated. He was not a hugger. He was not prone to overt shows of affection, even with his close friends and family. That's just how he was raised, and he didn't expect he would change in a hurry. Old dogs and new tricks don't usually go together. Johnny was slowly changing him, as were the others on his shift. A few of them were pretty touchy-feely, not overly so but enough. They liked a quick hug, a squeeze of the shoulder, standing close enough to touch. It rubs off on you sometimes. Johnny's arms were outstretched. Roy rolled his eyes, but it was all for show. He stepped in and gave Johnny a hug, holding him tight. I almost lost him. I still can't believe it. Here he was, alive and whole and almost none the worse for wear, warm in Roy's arms. He could feel Johnny's chest rise and fall, could hear his breath against his ear.
"I'm okay, Roy," Johnny murmured, "I'm alright…"
Roy said nothing and simply tightened his arms around his friend.