Johnny blinked several times and waved his hand in front of his face, struggling to see something, anything, as he stood and stumbled further away from the rocks. The inky blackness felt even more disconcerting than his bizarre conversation with the dragon. He jumped as several pebbles and rocks cascaded down in a mini avalanche, and then squinted in the sudden glare from a flashlight, trying to shield his eyes from the brightness.

"Gage!" Chet yelled as he spotted the paramedic standing in the beam of light. "Are you okay, Buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Is the boy okay?"

"He's fine. What about you? Anything broken?"

"No. My head hurts, though."

"No damage, then," joked Chet. Somewhat surprised that this remark garnered no outraged response from Johnny, Chet added, "As soon as we clear away some more of this rock, we'll get you out and Roy can take a look at you." He noticed that Johnny swayed unsteadily on his feet as they talked. "Why don't you sit down? You look a little ragged."

"I'm okay," Johnny replied irritably as he complied, resting his head on his arms, the remainder of his sentence muffled. "Just quit shining that light in my eyes and get me out!"

"Well, that's gratitude for you. Here Marco and I are busting our butts with the guys from 110s, trying to rescue you, and all you do is complain," Chet grumbled good-naturedly as he retreated from the tiny window he had created in the rocks. He pulled the handie-talkie out of his pocket and called Cap to report that Johnny had been found, conscious, with a possible head injury, and to request that a Stokes be brought down into the tunnel.

Chet and Marco tried to keep Johnny talking as they worked, both exchanging mild glances of alarm at the monosyllabic responses from the usually verbose paramedic. As soon as they created a portal large enough to accommodate a man, Chet leaned into the cave, intending to assist Johnny.

He got one whiff of the sulfur-tinged air and exclaimed, "Aww man, what is that smell?" Chet's nose wrinkled involuntarily with distaste from the strong odor. "Gage, did you fart?"

"No, I did not!" Johnny replied indignantly, looking up. "That smell's from the dragon."

Chet's eyes widened in disbelief for a second and he then quickly swung the beam of the flashlight around the cave before bringing it back to rest over Johnny's face. As he did so, he noted for the first time the trail of dried blood trickling down the side of the paramedic's face. He called over his shoulder, "Marco! Hand me the oxygen!" Turning back to the paramedic, he said cautiously, "Say again, Johnny?"

"I said, 'I didn't fart. That's from the dra…'" Johnny stopped himself as he realized how his words would sound to Chet. "Never mind," he finished, putting his head back down.

"Uh huh." Chet maneuvered himself through the opening in the rocks and then reached back for the oxygen tank from Marco, saying quietly. "Tell Cap there's some kind of toxic fumes in here. Gage is disoriented. I think we're definitely going to need that Stokes."

Chet crossed the few feet to where Johnny sat and held out the oxygen mask. "Better put this on. I think the air is bad in here."

Johnny batted the proffered mask away and shakily rose to his feet. "I don't need that. Let's just get out."

Chet put out a hand to steady the other man and said, "Standard operating procedure, Pal. Put it on. I'm not getting chewed out by Cap for you."

Head pounding, too tired to argue with Chet, Johnny placed the mask over his face and then allowed Chet to assist him over the rocks, where Marco and another firefighter helped guide him into the Stokes waiting on the other side.

"Gage, for a skinny guy, you sure are heavy," remarked Chet as the three hoisted Johnny up and began to make their way back through the tunnel leading outside.

A few short minutes later, they carried him out into the cool, fresh evening air, where Roy and Cap stood anxiously waiting. Roy breathed an audible sigh of relief when he saw the firefighters emerge and hurried forward to meet them.

Although the rain had finally stopped, the brisk breeze continued to blow damply. Shivering, his teeth beginning to chatter, Johnny asked, "How long was I in there?"

"About ten hours. It's well after seven," answered Roy, tucking a blanket around his partner as they carefully picked their way down the hill. "How do you feel?"

"I feel a lot better now that I'm out here." Johnny managed a weak, crooked grin.

"Chet said you said your head hurts?" Roy continued to visually assess his partner, who, all things considered, outwardly looked pretty good.

"I must have hit it on something." Johnny frowned. "I don't really remember."

"Were you unconscious?"

"For a while."

"He was delirious, too," put in Chet.

"I was not delirious," protested Johnny irritably.

"You were talking about a dragon, Pal."

"I… it was hot in there. It smelled like sulfur," said Johnny defensively.

Roy smiled. "Read too many dragon stories to Susan, huh?"

"Yeah. That must have been it." Johnny closed his eyes as they set the Stokes down next to the squad.

Roy noticed the way Johnny held his right hand closed. "Did you hurt your hand?"

"Huh? No."

"What's in your hand, then?"

Johnny opened his hand and looked wonderingly at the multi-hued stone in his hand that glittered in the emergency rescue lights.

"I don't know. I must have picked this up."

"What's your name?"

"I'm not disoriented. I know my name!"

"Well, then, you know the drill. What's your name?" Roy knelt down beside his partner and matter-of-factly began to take the vitals.

"John Gage. Uh, I don't remember the name of the park, but I remember getting the boy out. And, it's Saturday."

"Good enough," said Roy, shining his pocket light into Johnny's eyes. "Did you vomit?"

"No."

Roy nodded, scribbled something on the pad of paper, and picked up the bio-phone. "Rampart, this is LA 51."

"Go ahead, 51." Dr. Brackett's confident baritone filled the airwaves.

"We have a 26-year-old male with a contusion over the left temple. Pupils are equal and reactive. He was unconscious for an unknown length of time. He also appears to be mildly dehydrated. Vitals are as follows: BP 110 over 60, pulse 58, respirations 18. Over."

"51, start an IV of D5W with one-half normal saline, continue to monitor vitals, and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4 Rampart. The ambulance has just arrived and we'll be transporting immediately."

"10-4"

Roy and the ambulance crew had Johnny ready for transport in a matter of minutes. "Your chariot awaits, sir," joked Roy.

"Chariot? Why did you say that?"

Roy shrugged. "I don't know. What's the matter?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Just tired."

The ride to Rampart had proven to be uneventful, and since Johnny's condition appeared to be stable, the rest of the crew returned to the station for some much needed hot showers and hot coffee.

Roy waited in the doctors' lounge for word of Johnny, hands wrapped around his own steaming mug of coffee as he let the brew drive away the chill of the day.

Less than a half-hour later, Dr. Brackett entered the lounge, his relaxed posture and smile telling Roy that all was well with his partner, even before the doctor spoke. "Your partner must lead a charmed life. A little dehydrated, a mild concussion…" Dr. Brackett spread his hands. "That's all. We'll keep him overnight for observation."

"Did he go up to a room already?"

"They're just getting ready to move him. You can probably go see him for a minute."

Roy nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Doc. I'll do that." Roy downed the contents of his cup before going in search of his partner.

The rattle of a cart in the hall woke him. He stretched, the aches in his back more from the hard, uncomfortable hospital bed than from the previous day's ordeal. He thought he could see an outline of sunshine tracing the edges of the heavy drapery covering the window. Guessing that the rain had finally stopped, he hoped he could go home soon. No point in wasting a beautiful day inside the hospital.

"Good morning, Mr. Gage." The day nurse cheerfully bustled through the door, wheeling a cart stocked with various medical supplies and equipment.

As she parked it at the foot of his bed, a standard, institutional-grade painting hanging on the wall caught her attention. The nurse examined it critically, arms akimbo. "That is a remarkably unattractive piece of… of whatever it is. I shall not dignify it by calling it art." She shook her head in disgust and then came over to Johnny and began fluffing his pillows and straightening his covers. "I trust you rested well?"

"Yes," Johnny replied, a bit puzzled by the nurse's odd behavior. "Aren't you going to take my BP and stuff? I'd like to get out of here early today."

"Of course, Mr. Gage. But, you won't be going anywhere until after the doctor sees you." She crossed over to the window. "Let's let the light in, shall we? It is a rather spectacular day outside."

Johnny squinted as she drew back the curtain, allowing the bright morning sunlight to spill into the room. Outside the window, a full-hued splash of color arched against the backdrop of the rapidly dissipating grey storm clouds.

The golden-haired woman flashed a brilliant smile as she turned back to face Johnny. The normally effusive paramedic sat speechless, gaping in disbelief. Surely it was a trick of the light that made her green eyes reflect the colors of the rainbow?

"My name is Chrysoberyl. My friends call me Chrys.

Riddle and Conundrum can be Googled on the web; FFN won't let me give the sites.