Star Light Star Bright, Wish I May, Wish I Might
Chapter 3
*This chapter was written by TehMarishal before I got involved with the story.
WARNING: This chapter deals with a victim of sexual assault.
The station alarm went off again, this time right in the middle of lunch. This call was only for the squad, so Johnny and Roy were the only ones who had to go.
As the two paramedics got into their squad, and as Stanley acknowledged the call on the radio for them, Gage muttered something about how it felt like that's the way it always was.
"What do you mean?" Roy murmured as he fastened his seatbelt and started the engine, turning on the lights and sirens. They began to move forward.
"Well," Johnny replied as they began to turn out onto the main road, "think about it. Every single time we get a call, we're always the ones who have to go. I mean it's either a medical emergency, or something that needs both of us and the rest of the guys there. So anytime the alarm goes off, we can always rest assured that we have to go by default." Johnny made a gesture near the window. "At least the rest of the guys get a fair chance of finishing their lunch."
"That's part of the price to pay when you're a paramedic," Roy commented calmly, keeping his eyes on the road. "Besides, we don't go to rubbish fires!" He mentally ran the street address through his mind one more time to make sure it was still fresh, although he knew that Johnny had it on a piece of paper as well. "We're firemen too, but we're paramedics first."
"Yeah, kind of like carrying a double load on a single shift," Johnny murmured, and then resumed looking straight out through the windshield.
"You have to admit it's worth it though," Roy countered, thoughtfully. "Think about all the lives we've saved."
Gage nodded, becoming equally thoughtful. "Yeah," he agreed. That was the reason he'd become a paramedic in the first place, after all. He was now doing something to save lives, so that those people had a better chance of living until they reached the hospital. That was something worth doing… even if it meant missing lunch. "I guess it's not me grumbling about it, you know," he murmured. "It's my stomach that's doing the complaining. I haven't eaten anything since last night."
"We'll get something on the way back, if you want," his partner replied.
A few minutes later they arrived at the site the dispatcher had told them to go to. It was a large brick house along the side of a street, one with a large yard and a beautiful white-colored wooden fence around it.
Once the squad was parked next to the sidewalk, just in front of the gate, the two paramedics got out. As they walked around to grab their gear out of the side of the truck, Roy murmured, "I wonder what we've got here."
Johnny grabbed the respirator and the trauma kit while Roy grabbed the drug box and the biophone. "Don't know, the dispatcher did say 'unknown type rescue'."
Neither paramedic would say it aloud, but "unknown" rescues gave them a small sense of dread, because they had no idea what to expect. Of course it could simply turn out to be someone with his or her hand stuck in a mixer, or overdosed on five tablets of aspirin… or it could easily be something much worse.
And there was a slight prickling on the back of Johnny's neck that told him this was going to be one of those cases where, perhaps, he might end up wishing he'd never gotten out of bed that morning.
The front gate on the fence was unlocked, but as they went into the yard a rather large, black dog with long fangs, a deafening bark and an aggressive demeanor suddenly confronted them. Johnny ended up dropping the trauma kit on the grass as he and Roy made a hasty retreat back out of the yard and closed the gate behind them. The dog continued to bark and howl, even standing on its hind legs and placing its paws against the white wood. It looked like it wanted to jump over the fence or tear its way through it, and then take a chunk out of the paramedics.
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Johnny muttered, looking at the dog warily. That prickle in the back of his neck had intensified slightly. But he didn't dare try to speculate too much; they simply needed to get past the dog, then they would see what the problem was.
Just then a police car rolled up, parking just a few feet behind the squad. The officer stepped out, took a moment to observe the situation, and then was ready to assist the paramedics. Then, between the aid of a fire extinguisher for distraction, and a noose, they were able to secure the dog to one of the fence posts at the corner of the yard.
As the three men walked away from the dog it howled in protest, yanking on its rope, but was secure and out of the way.
The three men approached the front porch, and Johnny took a moment to pick up the trauma kit that he'd dropped. Once they went up the steps, Roy freed one hand and knocked on the door. At first there was no answer, but then there was a slight shuffling noise on the other side.
"Hello?" Roy called out, trying to peer through the small window on the top of the door. He could see a pretty clear view of a mudroom, as well as a door that lead to the interior of the house. The second door appeared to be open, although he couldn't see anyone, or much beyond it. "This is the fire department. Is anyone home?" He rapped his knuckles against the door again. After waiting a couple of seconds he tried the doorknob. The door was locked.
Suddenly there was another noise, like someone was pawing around on the other side of the door. After a few moments there was a "click" noise, like the sound of the door being unlocked. Then the doorknob began to jiggle a little.
Roy grabbed the doorknob and touched it gently. He turned it and very slowly began to open it. It opened outward, and once he'd opened it far enough, he saw a red-haired woman sitting on the floor. Her long hair was a mess, her green eyes were wide and fearful, and her shirt was tattered and torn, as if it had been grabbed roughly.
"Hey there, are you alright?" DeSoto asked, bending down to take a look at her, putting out a hand to touch her shoulder.
She gasped and flinched as his hand came near, causing Roy to pull his arm back. She scooted herself away from the door, pushing a small rug along underneath her as she moved.
"Hey now, its okay," Roy said soothingly, offering a small smile. "We're here to help you. Are you hurt anywhere?"
The woman made no reply. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and then looked as though she were biting her lower lip. Then she pressed a hand against her mouth, almost as though she were trying to hold in a scream or a sob. Possibly both. Her expression was terribly fearful, and there was a look of pain in her eyes.
Johnny peered at the woman over his partner's shoulder, frowning. What happened to you? He thought, trying to make an external diagnostic with his eyes. The woman seemed to be aware of her surroundings, from what he could see, and her eyes were focused. Maybe it was a drug overdose, but… she seemed more frightened than anything.
Suddenly she jumped to her feet and then ran through the interior door, taking off into the house. Roy immediately moved to follow, nearly stumbling over the small rug in the process. He managed to catch himself on the door, and then walked past it as he went after the woman.
Johnny found himself glancing down at the rug as his partner went into the interior of the house. He wasn't sure why he looked but when he did, he noticed something that instantly caught his attention; there was blood on the rug, right where she had been sitting on it when she scooted herself away from the outer door. She was bleeding?
Gage then went to follow after his partner, who had apparently followed the woman into the living room area. He was a little surprised to see Roy crouched down on the carpet in front of the couch when there was no one on the couch… until he noticed that the woman was sitting in the space between the wall and the end of the couch, as if she were hiding. As he walked through the front room it was apparent there had been a struggle. The furniture looked as though it had been pushed around, there were magazines and a flower vase with silk flowers on the floor by the couch.
"We're not gonna hurt you," Roy was saying, speaking very gently. "My name is Roy DeSoto, I'm a paramedic," he glanced up upon noticing his partner entering. He made a small gesture toward John, looking back at the woman. "This is my partner, John Gage. We're to help you. Were you the one who called us, Ma'am?"
She was sitting with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them. She looked more like a frightened six-year-old than someone who'd overdosed on drugs. She eyed the paramedics warily, her green orbs darting from Roy to John, then back to Roy again. She nodded slowly.
"Alright then," Roy said, "why don't you come out here and let us take a look at you? Are you hurt?"
"A-actually," the woman spoke for the first time, stumbling over the syllables as if struggling not to burst into tears, "I wasn't the one who called. My brother called, then he went to…" A sound escaped her lips that was somewhere between a sob and a gasp. She clamped her mouth shut as tears began to shine in the corners of her eyes. She looked like she was barely keeping herself contained.
"Roy," Johnny whispered in his partner's direction. "There was blood on the rug out there."
DeSoto's eyes widened in alarm as he shot a glance toward Gage, then turned his attention back to the woman. "Are you bleeding, Ma'am?" Roy asked softly. "Do you hurt anywhere?"
She had her lips pressed into a thin line, and she covered her mouth with her hand again. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Frowning, Roy reached out to touch her arm, in an attempt to sooth her and get through to her. She cried out softly at his touch, flinching and slapping his hand away. She then scooted herself back a little, pressing herself even more tightly in the cramped space she was in.
The two paramedics exchanged glances, and a silent thought passed between them. Both of them realized what they were dealing with. The truth was, they had seen a few cases very similar to this before, and this woman was showing symptoms of a very specific kind of attack… one they'd hoped they wouldn't have to see again. Yet apparently they were. The blood on the rug in the mud room, where she had been sitting, as well as her fear of being touched, the obvious signs of a struggle and the fact that she looked like a scared child about to burst into tears… it all lead to one thing.
"I'll get Rampart," Roy murmured quietly, moving a short distance away to get to the biophone. He opened up the red case and, after attaching the small antennae, he picked up the phone. "Rampart, this is squad 51," he spoke, his voice quiet and rough.
"Hey now," Johnny told the woman gently, "everything's gonna be okay now. Why don't you tell me your name?"
"Donna." She sniffled, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself and glancing down toward the floor.
"Okay, Donna," Johnny said softly, holding up his hands but not touching her, "I'm not gonna hurt you, and I won't touch you unless you say it's okay. And I'm gonna say what I'm going to do before I do anything, is that okay?"
"Please don't touch me." Donna spoke through gritted teeth.
"You need help, and we're here to help you," Johnny said.
In the background, the voice of Dixie responded on the other end. "Squad 51, we read you loud and clear."
"Rampart we have a female, approximately twenty-five years old." Roy hesitated, sucking in a deep breath. "We think she's a victim of sexual assault."
There was a definite pause on the other end of the line. "Understood, Rampart… No
we haven't been able to get them yet, please stand by."
Johnny held his hands out in front of him, in sort of a peaceful gesture, still facing the woman. "Will you let me check your pulse?" he asked softly. "All I will need to do is touch your arm. I won't touch anything else."
Donna hesitated, still keeping her distance and holding herself protectively. Johnny inched one of his hands toward hers and then stopped, not touching her. "I just want to see if you're okay," he insisted, trying to communicate his sincerity and reassurance to her with his eyes. "Please, will you let me help?"
A/N To be continued! So yeah… if you don't like the theme or where this is going… feel free to stop reading now. –TehMarishal
Thanks for reading this story. Your comments and reviews are always appreciated.
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