Chapter 8

With a sliver of a moon tracking upwards through the night sky and replacing the sun that had been setting when they had arrived at Rampart, the two paramedics were now taking up space in a room on the fourth floor. Roy lay on his back, one knee up in the air with the foot flat on the mattress and his fingers plucking restlessly at the sheets. He looked across the expanse of ugly linoleum and studied his sleeping friend for a moment, wondering how he had managed to escape serious injury. He had fallen through a floor, landed on cement, and then had a loaded cabinet slide through the hole and splat on top of him. How many people could live through all that and laugh about it while telling the tale?

Apparently his goofy partner could because Gage, who had broken through the floor and had landed quite gracefully on his feet in a crouched position, had then laughingly confessed to having fallen face forward from the force of the plunge and the weight of his air tank. Seconds later the loaded cabinet had landed on its bottom and had tipped over on him, the same air tank taking the majority of the weight and preventing serious injury. Of course this story had been spun after the exam and x-rays had been completed; they had ended up side by side in recovery while waiting for a room. The fluids flying through the IV in John's arm had rendered him quite giggly and even more loquacious than usual. He had ended up bruised all over and with several stitches in the cut on his face, but had luckily avoided broken bones and a head injury. He had been sleeping for several hours now; he had finally succumbed to the pull of the pain relief and muscle relaxers.

Roy sighed and turned his attention to the ceiling above him. His own wind inflicted injury had been diagnosed as a concussion, serious enough to require an overnight stay and monitoring. The headache had dissipated somewhat, but he still felt out of sorts with everything and especially everyone that he came in contact with. JoAnne had made it to the hospital while he had still been in the treatment room downstairs and he found himself being overly cautious in his conversation with her. He wasn't really sure of how many of his words would truly be from his heart as opposed to the concussion side effects still popping up in his throbbing gray matter and shooting unfiltered out of his mouth. She in turn had been quiet, concerned, and something else that he couldn't quite figure out…he wondered if it had something to do with their quarrel. More than likely…..he wouldn't know for sure until she returned from getting the kids settled for the night with their babysitter. He was anxious about her imminent arrival, yet looking forward to it.

Is that possible, he mused, to want to see your wife yet be worried about it? Of course it is, you silly dope! Remember your wedding day? A day eagerly anticipated but fraught with jitters; even a shot of Jameson thoughtfully provided by his best man hadn't really helped. If anything, it had just churned up his stomach even more and sent more butterflies into flight. He couldn't help but smile at his own reply to his question, fingers still absentmindedly yanking at his sheets. Apparently carrying on a back and forth, strange conversation with himself was going to stay with him for a bit.

"Probably a good thing you don't have fingernails like Dixie's, otherwise they'd be sending ya a bill…." A still hoarse voice drifted over from the other bed, interrupting his rambling thoughts.

Roy stopped counting the indentations in the ceiling tiles and looked over at Gage. The dark haired medic was still lying on his left side facing him; the only thing that had moved in the last several hours were his eyes, which were now open and lazily watching the attempted shredding of the previously wrinkle free, white sheet.

Raising himself up slowly, DeSoto sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He remained there, tamping down the quick hit of dizziness that assaulted him and feeling the cool air hit his back between the ties of the gown. He shifted sideways to tuck the stiff fabric underneath him and finally relaxed, modesty preserved at least for the moment. When he stopped moving and finally refocused his attention on Gage, the other man had already let his eyes drift shut.

"Just kind of letting things run through my mind, what's left of it," Roy explained, casually smoothing down the white cotton over his legs and then hunching over his knees, arms encircling them almost protectively.

"At least you got one and it's still functioning, the brain that is. 'Tis probably more than you can say about old Chet. How is he, anyways? And you, is it a concussion? How bad of one is it? More dents in your head, kinda like the surface of the moon…." The brown eyes rolled open again and peered quizzically at the slightly hunched figure. This time the right arm moved and his long fingers touched the tube running to the nasal cannula delivering oxygen to his body; he plucked it loose from his nose and yanked the whole thing over his head and dropped it carelessly behind him.

Clearly Johnny didn't remember any of their disjointed conversation while they had waited downstairs together. Smiling faintly, the light haired medic realized Johnny didn't sound 100% lucid right now either. Roy glanced up at the liquid left in the bottle feeding into his vein and wondered what was still trickling into his partner to cause him to compare his head to the surface of the moon. Morton must have really hit him up with something good.

DeSoto came to the sad conclusion that if the younger man didn't recall any of their aimless dialogue, clearly that meant he wouldn't be able to reminisce with him about what had transpired after Johnny's account of his very descriptive fall into the basement. Although, he really would enjoy recounting the events of earlier, several times if needed in fact! His memory deprived friend would surely enjoy the tale and probably not believe it; Roy's tiny smile morphed into a teeth baring grin as he considered the fun he was going to have with spinning and elaborating the outlandish but hilarious antics of their crewmates.

Before they had finally been whisked into the upper echelon by a couple of grinning orderlies, they had been graced with an entertaining visit by Marco and Mike. Just the sight of the head nurse, Miss Dixie McCall, chasing M and M (that was HER descriptive but clean name for the boys) out of the room had been funny enough, but boy, oh boy, his partner was going to be sorely disappointed when he found out that those clowns, especially the usually closemouthed Stoker, had acted out an humorous and quite physical two act play. The short drama had depicted first Chet's injuries in Act I, then John's in Act II. His last glimpse of those two idiots had been them taking deep, exaggerated bows as Dixie shooed them out, laughter trailing behind them as they ran for their lives.

Roy didn't know if their fellow firemen had been simply still high on adrenalin, or perhaps there had been something in the smoke they had all partook of that was taking its sweet time in exiting from their bodies. It had definitely not been anything resembling normal actions for Stoker and Lopez; he would probably never know what had instigated the wild behavior especially if they reverted back to their tight lipped selves. And why had they even been at the hospital? They had still been in uniform, which meant two possibilities. Either they were still on duty and killing time while waiting for reinforcements, or the sadly depleted station had been stood down for the rest of the shift; he did remember their captain saying something about that, so perhaps they had driven here in haste, without changing, to check on their colleagues. Somehow he believed they had done the latter, for even though they did a lot of kidding around the men were a tight bunch.

Whatever the case, he had still been laughing as they rolled down the hallways and flew upwards in the spacious elevator. He had laughed so hard, in fact, he had spewed up the contents of his stomach into the plastic emesis container located on the table next to his bed. Luckily, the only thing swimming in his belly was the fluids they had pumped into him to rehydrate his water deprived body. The only comment Dixie had made was that the concussion was finally catching up to him; as she had been gently wiping his sweating forehead at the time and holding a plastic cup of ice chips, he had accepted the mild rebuke with a grateful smile. At least he hadn't hallucinated the funny antics that had transpired in the recovery room; his hollow stomach and raw throat were proof of that.

Reining in his memories, he struggled to remember the question Gage had slurred at him. "Matching concussions, Chet and me, although I'm not sure who got the worst of it. I think he's down one floor. Last I heard, Morton was threatening to put him in the pediatric ward."

Johnny gave a snort of laughter, followed by a sneeze which then led to a grunt of discomfort as one of his unknown muscles let itself be felt. "Ouch!"

He let the one word escape and then closed his mouth down on anything else. He wouldn't admit it but he was still a bit leery of Roy and how he would react to anything he said. Considering how fuzzy his brain was at this moment, he didn't think it wise to engage in a soul provoking conversation. He might not remember anything that had happened downstairs after that cocktail Morton had shot him up with, but he sure did recall Roy's behavior in the ambulance. They might be in the hospital, but that didn't mean Roy's head was screwed on straight quite yet.

Keeping an eye on his bowed over partner, who right now was reminding him of one of those stone gargoyles perched precariously on the side of a building, he did a tentative stretch. Hurt like hell, yeah, but at least he still had all of those 640 muscles. He chanced a slow roll over to his back, mindful of the IV running out of his right arm and up to the glass bottle hanging from the pole. Definitely doable, just at a slower speed then what he was accustomed to. He would just have to remember that little annoying fact that was all. He lifted his hip and swished the oxygen tubing, that he was now lying on, off the bed completely and listened in satisfaction as part of it hit the floor.

Roy hadn't moved from his odd position, but he had lifted his head and was watching with wide eyed interest John's careful attempts at relief. Flashing him a satisfied smile, Johnny settled back against his pillow, wondering if there was any chance of getting a couple of more of those cushy, sanitary foam rectangles to pile up behind his back. He lifted a tentative hand up to his hair and grimaced as he felt the clumped strands of Popsicle and blood. Unless he got a sympathetic nurse willing to clean him up, he was going to be stuck with porcupine hair until they released him, hopefully tomorrow. Maybe it was time for a haircut….

"Here…." He felt a hand on his shoulder and the sliding of another pillow behind him; the bed moved up to a half reclining position. Gage adjusted himself to the more comfortable angle, enjoying the simple act of being able to turn his head freely and watch DeSoto shuffle back to his bed. He grinned at his clumsy attempt of holding the gown closed in the back.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Roy parked himself back on his bed, but remained upright this time. "Say Johnny, I know I've been doing and saying some weird stuff today….."

"What, more than usual?" John quipped back, banishing his resolve to not engage his friend in too much banter. Aside from an obvious headache still lingering and his own careful movements, Roy was acting almost normal. Guilt, check. Doubt, check. Worry, check. And of course concern, one of his buddy's most admirable traits, double check. Even when Roy had been switching back and forth between being a nice guy and being a bit on the nasty side, that rather nice characteristic kept popping up and was obviously dominant, thank goodness.

It was Roy's turn to snort, and a smile actually found its way to his face before a mask of seriousness settled over him. His blue eyes regarded Johnny soberly as he seemed to be considering his next words. "I just can't believe that I couldn't seem to connect that whack on the side of my head with my mood swings, paranoia, and all the other rotten things I seem to be so good at."

"I think that's why it's called a head injury, Roy. With a hit that hard, you're not supposed to associate the one with the other. You're lucky that you even remember cracking your head."

"I think I was a bit distracted this morning, still am in fact…" Roy raised his hand to stop the words about to burst from Gage. "That fight I had with my wife, with JoAnne, it just really seemed to hit home; you know what I'm saying?"

"Sure, sure, of course I do...I mean, not about the wife thing, 'cause I obviously don't have a wife, but you know that, I mean," Johnny floundered to a halt, paused to regroup, and blundered on, words escaping faster than he could rein them in. "What I mean is, I know exactly what you're saying, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, I understand what you're saying," Roy agreed, and then added "for once" under his breath. He resisted rolling his eyes, something he often did when trying to converse with the younger man, as he knew it would probably not help his headache any.

Johnny pursed his lips and scrunched up his eyes in anger; his muscles might be sore but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. The grin that immediately followed negated the conveyed emotion however, and both men shared a moment of good humor and understanding. It was Johnny this time that interrupted the mood with a question.

"You and JoAnne, are you okay then? You said, back at the fire before we started the cleanup, that you thought things were gonna be fine? That you had sorta made up?"

Unconsciously running a hand through his hair, Roy scooted backwards in the bed and pulled the sheet up over his bare feet and legs, suddenly feeling coolness drift over him. He took a moment to sort through his thoughts, feeling a bit more clarity now then he had before. Time was what he needed; time to get his brain back in full working order and time to be able to sift through everything that had transpired. He knew that Jo understood that; he didn't want to use his concussion as an excuse for anything that ensued between them.

"I think that we're good. We just need to work on our communication, and more importantly, our listening skills, or at least I do…"

"Two way street, Roy, two way street," Johnny said earnestly, waving a hand and leaning forward. He winced and moved the hand to his back. Roy wondered, moved to distraction from his own problems by the motion, if there was bruise back there in the shape of his air tank; even with the heavy coat on, there was bound to be some pretty marks.

"Right, two way street as you so aptly describe it, that's true. " He waited as Gage dropped his hand in his lap and settled back on the pillows, face smoothing out as he worked his way through his discomfort and relaxed. "I just need to figure out if I've gotten kinda complacent in our marriage. I mean, all relationships take work; I think I've just been on a shortcut with ours."

John nodded in understanding, and then did his some of his own nervous plucking at the sheets. "You know Roy, if it makes any difference to you, I mean compared to your marriage, your job is just a rest stop, a clean rest stop mind you, on your highway of life journey, but I just wanted to say, with me, and the rest of the guys on our shift too, I think you listen pretty darn good. And…" he paused, swallowing hard but turning his gaze on his friend as his mind strayed back to the basement and his sure knowledge that Roy would be the one to hear and find him. "Hey, man….thanks …for listening."

~eeeEEEeee~

An hour later, their bursts of casual conversation and laughter interlaced with companionable silence had been disrupted by a grey-haired nurse striding into the room on a mission. She took vitals and asked Roy his name and other familiar questions that he could have recited the answers for in his sleep. Once she was done with him, she had taken one look at John and had stormed into the little bathroom, her voice clearly heard by both patients as she complained about the inefficiency of the ER nurses. She had returned with a dripping washcloth and proceeded to scour Gage's face and then scrub his matted hair. His stuttering complaints totally ignored, she had then manhandled him back on his left side, snatching the extra pillow unceremoniously out from under him. The bed had been next on her agenda. John's squeak of protest as she had dropped it back to its original flat position had been drowned out by her admonishments.

Roy, watching from his thoroughly mummified state, grinned in commiseration and enjoyed her rapid march around to the other side of Gage's bed. Within seconds she had swapped out the IV bottles, swabbed down the hapless patient's port, and pulled a syringe out of her pocket and shot the liquid in. This was something Roy knew Johnny would not appreciate. He had reluctantly conceded earlier, his familiar lopsided grin making an appearance, that he was still fuzzy from the earlier drugs. That in turn had led to Roy's sarcastic comment of "Really? I hadn't noticed!" which had finally resulted in his telling the tale of M and Ms' antics in the recovery room. After Johnny had gotten over his initial disbelief, he had laughed so hard that tears had streaked down his dirty face. Maybe the noise of their combined laughter had brought that nurse into their room earlier than expected, but it had been worth it to hear Johnny's mirth. Thinking about it, Roy realized that it had done wonders for dispelling his own anxiety, while also melting the last remaining ice chunks that had been bobbing between the two friends. Without a doubt Johnny had started the reconciliation process between them with his heartfelt thanks delivered within the guise of "thanks for listening". And his awkward comparison of their job and the clean rest stop on Roy's life path had been weird but spot on and had quite nicely broke the seemingly immobile iceberg into manageable pieces. Now if only he could work things out with Jo…

Of course Johnny might not have seen the early appearance of the nurse in quite the same way, because after the scowling matron had made some "Tsk tsk" sounds, she had then done something to the back of Johnny's hospital gown that had him visibly startling and turning a brilliant shade of red; the sheet had then been wrapped tightly around him followed by the blanket until only his head had remained visible. Gage's mouth had dropped open and his eyes had widened in surprise, but he had wisely chosen to keep any further noises or protests to himself. Even when the rubbery tubing had reappeared around his neck, practically strangling him as she circled it around him and pushed the prongs back into his nose, his discomfort had only manifested itself in a gusty sigh.

After the tornado of efficiency had twirled out of the room, John made only one further contribution to their rather tumultuous day of events by mumbling something about the equality of witches on broomsticks and partners who wouldn't share vital information. Roy was pretty sure that Johnny was comparing the rather stern nurse with his withholding the information concerning the contents of that metal cabinet. His grin grew wider at that comparison and he pondered whether he should disclose that information now or keep his buddy in the dark, torture him with the suspense. He didn't have to make the choice because unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, his counterpart's utterances had melted away as he drifted into a drugged sleep. He had been heading that way himself when his attention was caught by the slow and hesitant opening of the door into their room.

JoAnne poked her head in, looking first at her husband and then sweeping her glance over at the still figure in the other bed. At Roy's nod and smile of encouragement, she slid in and closed the door behind her. She tiptoed to Johnny's side and paused, then extended her hand and softly touched his abraded cheek; the cheek that had scraped the harsh surface of his unyielding pillow in the dying building. As light of a touch as it was, the sleeping man stirred and shifted, lost in dreams but somehow registering and responding to the soothing brush of fingers. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "anvils and bowling balls" and JoAnne turned a questioning look upon Roy.

"I'll explain later," he whispered, beckoning her with his fingers and a mischievous wink. Another story that he would enjoy telling….

JoAnne smiled and moved to his side, drawing the privacy curtain around her husband and shutting them off from the world, at least for a moment. She perched on the edge of his bed, resting her hand on his arm and staring at him. Roy immediately recognized the signs of distress; the trembling lips and possessively gripping hand were leading to a flood of emotions that she wouldn't be able to contain. With some difficulty, he pried his arms loose from the burrito he was encased in, lifted them up, and pulled her down onto his chest, cradling her within the protective circling of his arms. His soothing utterances soon turned into an apology, an explanation…

His wife lifted her head from his tear stained gown and made a hushing noise; a sound he had heard her use many times before with their children. It consoled him, reminded him of home and the warmth that resided there that didn't come from the stone fireplace. "It doesn't matter, none of it matters…I understand now those sayings about how you have to live for the moment, or don't put off for tomorrow what you can do today, or don't go to bed angry at your spouse without making up. Dr. Brackett explained to me about the concussion, the things you must have been going through all day. Oh Roy, when I think of how we parted this morning, and how this day could have ended, all because I was accusing you of something I am just as guilty of….."

Oh Roy indeed, he thought as he found himself really listening to her unsaid words, her body language, something he hadn't really done in quite a while. As he gathered her even closer, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against her soft skin, he realized there might have been an upside to the concussion and that early morning fight after all. Both events had jarred him out of his complacency, both within his marriage and at his job, something that he had needed. Change might be slow to follow, but as long as he understood that and strived just to make little adjustments, he would be ok. They would all be ok, and if Jo's hesitant touch were any indication, she was feeling the same way…

~Fini~

A/N – Thank you for joining me on this adventure in words! I appreciate the feedback and thank you for it!