Chapter 7
It seemed like hours had slid by, but really it had only been a matter of minutes before the metal hulk of the desk had been tied off and pulled backwards. Fervent use of the pry bars had opened the plank wall so that the steel monster was yanked out of the claustrophobic space, allowing Roy to focus on gaining access to his trapped partner.
He had shucked off his tank and turnout coat and while he was rigging up a rope, Marco had splintered back more of the flooring, almost doubling the size of the hole. The water that had been flowing down from the gashes above had effectively doused the hopeful embers on the roof but had also soaked both men and created a sloshy mess on what remained of the floor. The water had been turned off and all that remained now was an annoying trickle.
Hands double checking his knots, DeSoto signaled his readiness with a curt nod to the group of firemen handling his rope. He dropped downward, one hand clutching his line while the other flashed his light on the concrete floor that was rapidly closing in on him. He managed a fairly graceful landing, his left foot flat on the coldness and his right barely missing the very wet, outstretched arm of Johnny.
Kneeling, his hand immediately closed around Gage's wrist and checked his pulse. It was racing, but considering the circumstances, Roy thought that it was within the bounds of normalcy, at least for his friend. He gently uncurled John's fingers from the flashlight that had saved his life, and for a brief moment replaced the cylindrical, cold object with the warmth of his own hand. A relieved sigh escaped Johnny and Roy squeezed his hand, released it, and finally turned all the way to look at him.
A squinting eye was looking at him; a thin thread of blood was sliding across the side of John's face that was visible and angling down across his thinned lips. Quickly running a light hand across the coppery trail and terminating its downward run, Roy shifted his position; even while his hands were busy feeling the arm for breaks, his eyes were checking out the cabinet that had Johnny pinned to the floor like a butterfly on a card.
"About time…."Johnny breathed out, voice low and hardly intelligible. "Been waiting awhile ya know…."
Roy smiled and self - consciously removed his dripping helmet and set it aside when the next words from the smoke thickened voice were "you're raining on me, and as I can't really cross my legs to stave off the inevitable result of hearing and feeling this waterfall hit me for the last ten minutes, think you can get me out of this mess before I add to it?"
"Yeah, sorry about that. We lost Chet there for a while; you know that linemen take precedent over us lowly paramedics, right?" DeSoto wisecracked, satisfied with his arm checking. He stood up and slid his hands under the bottom edge of the long but thin contraption and attempted a lift upwards. His grunt of exertion ended with an exhale of air when the cabinet refused to yield even a fraction of an inch.
"What the hell is in that thing?" He questioned, straightening up and touching a hand to his back. He shouted up to the helmeted fireman, Marco perhaps, leaning over the hole that they needed jacks and more manpower, before turning his attention back to his prone partner. "Weighs a ton…"
There was a groan of disbelief from Gage, and Roy thought he knew his friend well enough now to pretty much put words to the annoyed noise; something to the tune of "maybe that's why I'm still under here".
"Right…..I know this is another dumb question considering the position you're in, but do you think you're hurt anywhere?" He flicked his glance once again over the positioning of the cabinet and Johnny; aside from the dark head and flung out arm, he could only see the calves and feet of his friend. Everything else was covered with white painted steel.
A long pause followed the question as Gage seemed to be mentally running through a physical checklist. "Dunno….I think my back's ok 'cause I can feel everything, kinda hard to breathe though…and something's trying real hard to strangle me, plus scratching me, could be the straps on my mask." Johnny finally admitted softly, dark lashes fluttering and then settling on his pale cheek as his eyes closed.
"Ok," Roy whispered just as quietly, settling back down by Johnny's side and laying a comforting hand on the sliver of shoulder visible. "It won't be too long."
"Yeah."
No more words were spoken as the activity above them increased. Aside from licking his dry lips once and a twitch of his free hand, Johnny remained still under the steadying pressure of Roy's hand. Feeling the chilling damp of the floor seeping into his knee, Roy tried to shift to the flats of both feet and almost tipped over. He righted himself quickly, wordlessly berating his clumsy action. The abrupt action brought no reaction from John except a tiny upward tilt to his lips.
DeSoto glanced around at the sudden increase in noise coming from the level that they were on and realized that someone had finally located an entrance to the basement that didn't involve dropping through a hole. "Sounds like the cavalry is here."
"Maybe not such a good thing for me," Gage wisecracked, opening his eye and blinking up at his colleague. Roy just smiled and extracted a white handkerchief from his front pocket. He gently wiped away the trail of liquid that had leaked from the corner of Johnny's eye and dried, leaving a salty, telltale line through the dirt on his face.
"Dust making my eyes water," John murmured, embarrassment coloring his words.
"I left half my lung upstairs crawling around in that same dust," Roy snorted, purposely trying to redirect his partner's discomfort with his own words as he finished cleaning off most of the grime. He then folded the hankie, dirty side in, into a small square. He moved it up and applied pressure to the cut that was beginning to bleed again. He kept his hand on it until he was satisfied with the results, at least for the moment. As soon as he could lay his hand on the trauma box, things would be done right.
The welcome sight of three firemen closing in on their position caught DeSoto's attention and he stood up, relief flooding over him. It took more time then he would have liked, but soon the metal cabinet was standing upright. The strangling straps and the SCBA had been carefully eased off of Johnny; he had then been back boarded and new confining straps were secured around him. Roy paused, keeping one eye on his friend but staring at the white cabinet. His curiosity got the best of him and he fumbled with the doors, prudently stepping off to the side as they gave.
"Oh for Pete's sake," he sputtered, a laugh escaping him as he viewed the contents. "Only you, Johnny, only you…."
He shook his head in disbelief and latched the doors, stepping back over to the top of the board and grabbing the left side by John's head as they prepared to lift it. As he hefted his corner up he noticed that Gage was trying his hardest to watch him. His eyebrows were lifted in a questioning arc and annoyance was splashed across his face at the collar around his neck that was preventing him from turning his head. Apparently he had heard his mirth filled words and surmised his actions.
"What was in there?" He asked curiously, his voice stronger now that he was right side up but still hoarse from dust and smoke inhalation.
Roy turned his head sharply towards him to reply and immediately regretted the action. The headache he had stubbornly ignored and that had receded fractionally during the rescue sharpened and reasserted its presence. He couldn't help the loud gasp from escaping him; at the same time he caught his left foot on something and stumbled, losing his grip on the backboard.
The board tilted sharply and the lineman from 36s that was on the right side fumbled it for a moment then leveled and steadied it, moving his hands directly behind Gage's head at the top. There was a rather telling pause as the group of men stood frozen for a brief moment, and then collective sighs were heard. It was Johnny who quickly snapped out the words that were on everyone's minds.
"Roy! You ok? Man, what happened?"
The hand that was instinctively on its way to touch his pounding head dropped, and Roy forced a smile. "I'm good, just caught my foot on something and lost my hold…..sorry John."
Johnny looked dubious and was clearly holding back some choice words; Roy wasn't going to lean over him and give him the satisfaction of seeing his face. Gage would be able to read and correctly interpret the expression that he couldn't seem to wipe off. He hadn't worked with any of the other guys holding the annoyed, trapped paramedic, so that wasn't an issue. They would accept his words at face value and just move on.
Roy grabbed hold of the board once more and forced his lips to move. "Ok, let's go…"
Creaking and groaning noises from the floor overhead accompanied the firefighters as they tramped toward the faint light of the opened bulkhead doors that led to glorious, beckoning freedom of the outside. Heads turned warily and eyes rolled upwards at the ominous sounds portending disaster but they steadfastly moved on, skirting around the various piles of junk littering the floor. It was a far cry from the vast emptiness of the basement Roy had poked his head into only an hour earlier, or had it been hours? He wasn't sure anymore; the passage of time seemed to be marching to its own drummer through his head and wasn't giving up any obvious clues.
The waning sunlight met him and warmed his face as he mounted the short set of stairs and led the way out of Johnny's dank, chilling tomb like space. He blinked at the diluted light, feeling like a mole after so much time spent in the clutching darkness of the dying building.
The men carried the backboard at a rapid trot past the building, over the snaking hoses still winding across pavement and churned up, water sprayed dirt, and straight to the back bumper of the ambulance. They laid it down carefully on the waiting gurney. Mike Stoker appeared by their side and took Johnny's tank and turnout coat that one of the men had been carrying.
"I put your gear in the squad, Roy, and Marco will follow you to Rampart," he said, angling over to the left side of the wheeled gurney to avoid DeSoto, who had circled around and knelt down on the right side.
"Chet?" Johnny queried anxiously, trying to shift under his restraints and failing miserably. Stoker leaned over him so that he could see him and peered down at him, smiling.
"He's fine, Gage, on his way in. In his words, he's got a whopper of a headache and should have ducked instead of sidestepping, whatever that means."
"Good, real good….." Johnny acknowledged with relief. "Say Stoker, any idea where my helmet ended up?"
"No, sorry, Johnny," Mike apologized, and then abruptly threw up his hands in a catcher's position as a black missile flew towards him. He deftly caught it and lowered it into John's line of sight. "I guess one of the guys picked it up."
Gage whispered a heartfelt thanks as he considered the consequences of losing or damaging another helmet, especially with a new captain on board. He winced as Roy rose up from the other side, flashing a penlight into his already light sensitive, squinting eyes. He licked his dry lips and stared up at his partner, who was biting his own lips in concentration as he flicked the light a second time onto his unwilling patient. This time Johnny closed his eyes tightly in protest; he startled slightly as Roy's hand dropped much more firmly then needed onto his abdomen to count respirations.
"Thanks Mike," Roy said absently as the lanky engineer stepped back and regarded him curiously. He seemed about to say something but turned away when Captain Stanley appeared at Roy's side, toting the bio-phone and the drug box.
"How ya doing, John?" He asked, thunking down the boxes and regarding both men with concern. He looked again at the older man, who appeared to Stanley to be counting respirations but in reality was staring fixedly at his watch. Johnny, eyes slitted open once more, was well aware that his immobile friend had either zoned out or was counting for the fourth time. He blew out his breath in a gusty sigh, the only action that he could physically do except perhaps drum his fingers; it accomplished its purpose and shook Roy out of his trance. The slow moving paramedic finally reached down and opened up the black box, retrieving the BP cuff and his stethoscope.
"I'm fine, Cap, gonna be sore as all get out, but I wish…."
"Wish what, John?" Hank had dropped to a crouch and was fumbling open the bio-phone, attaching the antennae and opening a channel.
"I wish you hadn't been helping your kid with that poem, because that's all I could think about down there…"
Stanley grinned in relief, holding the phone in one hand and looking up at Roy. "You did, huh? I can think of worse things to be thinking of while trapped on my belly underneath a ton of weight."
If it was possible to look sheepish while not being able to move anything but facial muscles, Johnny Gage was doing a good job of it. "Ummm, yeah, you're right."
The captain tapped Roy with the end of the phone to get his attention. "What was in that cabinet, Roy?"
"Oh…" Roy leaned over and murmured something.
"Unbelievable, just unbelievable." Hank laughed and rubbed a hand across his chin. "Say, pal, you going to shoot me Gage's vitals? I want to have a chance of transmitting on this thing since, thankfully, I don't usually have the chance."
"Right, right…" Roy handed over the slip of paper and ignored the complaints rising from the gurney as to why it was such a big secret. The noises grew louder and more varied when Dr. Morton's voice responded to the hail on the radio and an IV was ordered.
"For Pete's sake, an IV, why an IV?" He sputtered indignantly, wincing as cool alcohol hit his skin; Roy was swabbing the inside of his arm. John paused in his angry tirade when his colleague rubbed the area for a third time. "Roy? You trying to rub off my skin?"
Captain Stanley, who had quietly packed up the radio and placed it in the bed of the ambulance, took a step to his right and spun around so that he was hovering over the head of the gurney. He glared down at his frothing paramedic and shot his other paramedic a considering look. "DeSoto, would you say that this patient is mildly combative? Don't they order, especially your Dr. Morton, a drug in certain instances to calm down the victims?"
"A little diazepam, maybe?" Roy suggested calmly, pumping up the BP cuff once again on Johnny's upper arm. At John's yelp, he released the pressure immediately. His face a study in concentration, he squeezed the bulb again but this time stopped before the cuff tightened too far.
"I get the point, Cap," Gage conceded in admitted but not liked defeat, his hands clenched tightly against his frustration of being unable to see what Roy was doing.
Whatever Roy WAS doing, it wasn't his usual stellar performance and he was concerned, both for his partner and for himself. The tone of his voice when he had recommended the sedative had been deadly serious, at least in his opinion. But he wasn't about to say anything in front of their captain, especially a captain that hadn't been in charge of them for very long. Sometimes it was hard to read DeSoto, and he wasn't about to feed his friend to the lions if this was one of those times.
"I thought you would, John. I'll see you in a bit; we've been stood down since we've lost a third of the crew." He patted Johnny's shoulder softly and moved off, shooting a last, lingering look over his shoulder. He hadn't missed the tension between the two men, but couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that was bothering him about it.
Johnny bit his lip as he felt the needle enter his skin then withdraw; a tiny breath of sound was Roy's only indication that the stick had failed. After the second attempt ended in the same result, John unclenched his fists and released the bloody lip that he had focused his anxiety on.
"Roy….unstrap me, please."
"You know I can't do that, John, back and neck injuries and all that," Roy replied easily. His tone was so smooth and professional that for a moment his younger counterpart wondered if he had imagined the overtight BP cuff or the clumsy vampire attempts at his veins. Then again, maybe he had a head injury and was zoning in and out? No, no, it was Roy that was exhibiting the odd behavior…..
"Could you look at me for a moment, then?" He heard his voice lift slightly at the end of the question, unable to maintain his composure when he felt DeSoto's fingers tapping the vein that, judging by the pressure on his bicep, was probably visibly protruding from his arm like a gnarled root running across the ground searching for water. The fingers stilled and trailed off his arm as Roy acquiesced to his question and leaned over him.
It was hard to see Roy's face as the shadows had begun a slow crawl across the graveled space in front of the buildings; soon complete darkness would be swaddling them in its velvety cloak. But there was enough light streaming from the back of the waiting ambulance to notice the squinting eyes and the taut lines around his partner's mouth; lines that indicated discomfort or possibly pain.
"Your headache is back, isn't it?" He asked carefully, watching the surprise flash across DeSoto's face. He hadn't expected THAT question, had he? Probably something more along the lines of how many times are you going to stick that needle in my vein, or untie me now so that I can punch your lights out…
"I….yes, it is." Roy answered simply, but with obvious hesitancy.
Johnny could hear one of the ambulance attendants shuffling his feet impatiently and decided that trying to move Roy along might be a good idea. Plus he might be able to talk the other man out of another poking attempt. "Hey, why don't we just get going? The lighting is a lot better inside the ambulance."
"Yeah, you're right," DeSoto grudgingly agreed, stepping away. John was airborne within a few seconds as apparently both of the attendants had been hovering by the back of the vehicle. He felt the ambulance dip as Roy jumped in and heard the doors slap shut. His partner reappeared by his head and Johnny used the bright interior lights to study him once more.
"Did you bump your head this morning?" he asked in concern, noting for the first time some bruising on Roy's temple. Roy had brushed his hair back as he leaned over him, penlight in hand to check his eyes once again, and Johnny stared at the vivid mark of color in concern.
"No, why?"
John's fingers twitched as he instinctively tried to raise his arm to touch his own head to show the location of the bruise. "Because you have a very nasty bruise right under your hair…no, more to the left, my left, yeah, right there."
Roy's fingers sought and found the spot; he winced as he pressed down lightly. "I don't remember hitting anything…."
"Something hit you?" Johnny, running their responses through his brain, came up empty.
DeSoto dropped his hand and shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't recall any kind of head trauma whatsoever. You sure it's just not dirt?"
"I don't think you would be making faces if it was just dirt, would ya?" Johnny chided mildly, but softening the rebuke with a wide grin. Roy stared at him, raising a hand to the roof to balance as the ambulance swayed around a corner. He shot an annoyed scowl in the direction of the driver, then transferred the look back down at Gage, who was still watching him with avid attention.
"You sure you're not trying to distract me away from that IV Morton ordered, Junior?" He demanded, anger beginning to creep in to join the annoyance. He dropped his hand from the ceiling onto Johnny's shoulder and pressed down, successfully eliciting a wince of pain.
John ground his teeth together to keep a retort from escaping him. The words "head injury" were circling around in his spongy grey matter; that sure would explain the mood swings and headaches Roy had been exhibiting all day. Within the space of an hour, his pal had run the gamut of overly concerned, compassionate friend to a snarling, rabid animal. Kinda like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde...If he wasn't careful with how he reacted, his concussed partner might just decide to play doctor and prep him for surgery or something equally scary. The thought of Roy hovering above him in the jolting ambulance with a scalpel was just too horrible to consider. He really and truly didn't want to end up in those glass jars filled with formaldehyde, reduced to floating eyeballs leering at and index fingers trying to beckon the pretty student nurses giggling at his floating body parts.
He swallowed convulsively and just wished he knew how to handle him. That was the tricky part, because it was pretty clear that any little thing could set off his usually calm and rational friend. Otherwise, why was he trying to smash him into the hard wood of the backboard? He wasn't the one whipping around the corners, for Pete's sake!
Realizing that his thoughts were meandering almost as bad as when he had been flattened earlier, only then it had been against cement and on his stomach as opposed to wood and his back now, John opened his eyes wide in what he hoped would pass for innocence. "Who me, trying to distract you? Not in a million years, Pally, would I try and do something as sneaky as that! You must be confusing me with someone else, maybe one of the guys in the station? How about the one that keeps booby trapping my stuff?"
DeSoto lessened the pressure against Gage's sore shoulder and regarded him thoughtfully, before finally removing his hand and thunking down hard on the seat. He ran a hand across his face, fingers straying to the bruise. He sighed and stared at Gage, who was blinking rapidly at the ceiling and rotating his jaw in an obvious attempt to relieve discomfort. He snorted when Johnny rolled his eyes sideways in an obvious attempt to see what he was up too.
"I don't think I would put anything past you….but you're right, Johnny. I forgot about it until now, but when I had to move Jo's station wagon this morning the wind caught the door; the side of it caught me right here…." He touched his temple again.
"Ahhh…" Now John's voice was serious as he considered how long the other man had been running around with a concussion or something far worse. "Do you think you could wipe this cut again? I think if I taste this sh...Stuff again I'm gonna hurl….."
A soft expletive left Roy's lips as he realized that he had never bandaged the cut on Johnny's head; the blood was indeed dripping from the cut but at least it was heading into the hair that was plastered stickily to Gage's skull. What was that stuff in his hair anyways? Jell-O, syrup…..Roy tried to retrieve the foggy memory as the wound was finally properly cleaned and a pressure bandage applied. He made an abortive attempt to wipe some of the red fluid out the dark hair, but gave up when it made John's hair stick out even more from his head in spiky clumps.
He settled back onto the bench and deflated the BP cuff still on Johnny's arm. He stared guiltily at the tiny pinpoints of blood and the bruising, all evidence of his stupid attempts to prove to himself that he was just fine and had the steady hands needed to slide a needle into a vein. He slid sideways as the emergency vehicle made the final turn into the hospital but could only feel relief that his friend was going to get the proper care that he needed.
Clearing his throat, DeSoto dropped the cuff into the trauma box. "That stuff in your hair, what was it again?"
Johnny licked his lips and let his eyes drift close, also recognizing the turn. "Popsicle."
"That's right, cherry wasn't it?"
The ambulance stopped and shifted into reverse, masking most of the groan that escaped from Johnny. "Couldn't remember Popsicle, but you could remember the flavor? Ahhh…."
The second groan was cut off as the back doors flew open and Roy unlocked the wheels, shooting Gage a worried look as he recalled the Pavlov response his partner had with cherry flavor.
"Man, I didn't know I had so many muscles in my body..." Johnny complained, as Roy's troubled face appeared in his sight. Roy smiled, thankful that he wasn't going to have to flip him over to prevent aspiration.
"All 640 or so hurting, huh?" He teased, clambering down carefully from the back and wondering what shade of purple Morton was going to turn when he saw the IV less Gage rolling by him. This time he let his hand reach up and touch the bruise on his head, not trying to cover up the action. Short of taping Johnny's mouth shut, everyone within earshot was going to know that he needed attention; there was no way Gage was going to let this go. He let out a shuddering breath of release as he decided it was a good thing and the probable concussion sure explained a lot of things.
"Just about, Roy, just about, makes me kinda wonder about where some of those muscles are…." Johnny concluded with his own brief flash of humor, but his voice slowed down and faded out as they flashed through the automatic doors and rolled down the brightly lit hallway. Roy caught up to him and looking at the pinched expression on his face, realized that his colleague was finally giving in to the pain. But why had he been masking his discomfort?
DeSoto stepped off to the side and slumped in misery against the wall, not assisting the gurney into the exam room. Dixie, who was holding the door opened, looked at him with her head tilted in puzzlement before disappearing within. In the time it took Roy to close his eyes and cross his arms against his chest in a resigned gesture, she was back at his side. She laid a gentle hand on his stiff arm.
"Roy, come with me into room four. Kel will meet us there."
Head down, Roy refused to look at her. "Why, so he can tell me what a lousy paramedic I am? Or even worse, what a lousy friend I am to Johnny? I couldn't even start a simple IV, Dix, and worse yet, I HURT him! He was afraid of me, Dix, afraid of his partner and friend! He thought I was going to….God!"
He raised his head, guilt flashing as he recalled how he had pushed John's sore shoulder into the backboard, actually relishing the little sound of surprise and pain that he had made; how he hadn't thought twice about threatening him with a sedative once their captain had jokingly made the suggestion. He might have done it too, if he hadn't been distracted. What else had he done that he couldn't remember? More importantly, why hadn't he listened and reacted to John's obvious discomfort or even zeroed in on his friend's subtle attempts to mask his growing pain? Friend indeed, after today he would be lucky if Johnny would even look at him without spitting in disgust.
Dixie raised a warning hand to Kelly Brackett, who was moving purposely toward them with his usual ground eating strides. He faltered, slowed, and then stopped, nonchalantly turning slightly away but still able to see what she was doing.
"Ok, now listen to me, Roy DeSoto!" Dixie's voice, while soft, was also commanding. "Nobody is blaming or accusing you of anything. There's a reason for your actions, your behavior, and if you stop to think about it, you'll know exactly what I am talking about."
She touched a hand to her head, attracting his attention and keeping it when she then touched his face gently with the still uplifted palm. "And I think right here is the reason for all of this, don't you?"
She snaked her arm and other hand around his waist, watching him closely and waiting for him to process her words. Roy blinked at her, the anger and a million other emotions pounding through his weary brain. He closed his eyes slowly, carefully sorting through the turbulent feelings. He concentrated on the feel of his friend's comforting hand, and pushed back against the solidness of the wall behind him, enjoying the sensation of safety.
"Are you ready?" The nurse asked, stepping back just a little to give him a choice between moving and staying. Roy turned his head a little to see the exam room Johnny had vanished into, but there was no visible activity or sounds to give him a clue as to what was going on within. He looked again at Dixie, who regarded him calmly, neither pity or recrimination in her steady gaze.
"Don't worry; you know that Johnny is in good hands. Although he was driving Mike to distraction, something about crossing his legs and waterfalls?"
Letting a tiny smile escape, Roy sighed. "Yeah," he finally answered, leaving the cold comfort of the wall and letting her lead him towards the little room. Dix waved at the impatiently waiting doctor behind her back, and he slowly followed them through the windowed door.
-eeeEEEeee-
A/N - Sorry, one more short chapter to follow to conclude this story! Thanks for reading!