Roy ran a hand through his hair and paced; Dixie observed him and frowned. She knew how he was about his crew mates; she'd seen it over and over. Whenever a friend was injured, Roy always bought a one-way ticket on the worry-train. Dixie decided right then that it was up to her to stop it. She stepped forward and took hold of his arm; it was warm and clammy from his short tirade.

"Roy? C'mon...let's go outside," she said, calmly. "You know Johnny's gonna be okay, just give him some time."

Roy nodded as they started for the door, "I know, Dix...it's not just him," Roy answered, glancing back at Johnny and everyone that was helping him. "I mean, it is, but...it's also Mike, a-and Cap and...this whole damned night!"

Roy and Dixie walked out of the room and Roy rested his forehead against the cold surface of the wall and thumped his fist on it. "I mean, well, I...ah, Dixie, I just don't like..." his voice softened, "being so damned rattled. They're not just "random victims", you know? Captain Stanley had been shot and was bleeding badly, Mike had collapsed, and I had no idea where Johnny even was. I...I can usually deal with stuff like that, Dix, I really can, but tonight was...kinda' much, ya' know?"

Dixie gently turned him to face her, "Roy, do you really think you weren't supposed to be affected by this? I'd like to know how you were supposed to feel. A lesser man would have crumbled under those conditions." She paused and placed a well-manicured hand on his arm. "C'mon, let's go sit down."

She led him like a child to the staff lounge, and as weary as he was, he let her do it. She sat him on the sofa, presented him with a cup of coffee and he groaned as he sat back. He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body and it was affecting every part of him. He ached all over and his thoughts felt like they were battling for first place in his brain. If there was a single word that meant complete and utter exhaustion, he didn't know what it would be, but he sure knew he felt it.

He rubbed at a knot in the back of his neck, sipped his coffee, and looked up at Dixie. "Mike was already getting sick, you know? Cap said he was concerned about Mike's BP; that's why he called me and John. I know Stoker was really worked up about Eddie Jordan being on the loose and all, and...geez, he didn't even know that guy. I know if Cap hadn't been there...Mike woulda' been dead for sure. I wish I knew what all happened there." He paused, then ran a finger around the rim of the coffee mug, staring down into the hot liquid. He choked out, "Johnny and Cap almost had Mike out the door... did you know that? They almost got away."

Dixie did know that, but she would let Roy talk until he was drained. She had spent some time earlier trying to calm a very agitated Mike Stoker as he blurted out everything that had happened. Mike's high blood pressure had him confused and anxious, and he had been convinced that Cap and Johnny were dead. It took quite awhile before the meds kicked in enough to get him to understand they were still alive. She'd tell Roy about Mike as soon as Roy's adrenaline bottomed out. By the looks of things, that wouldn't be long.

Roy continued, "Then...then, Jordan SHOT Cap; shot him right where he stood! Mike was too weak to help him by then, but Johnny, he..." Suddenly, Roy realized something. He'd been there at Rampart for nearly a half-hour and he hadn't yet inquired of his Captain and Engineer. Roy's worry-train suddenly transformed into the guilt-wagon and he climbed aboard. "Oh, god...Cap...I didn't even... oh, man, has anybody called his wife? And Mike, he's probably...aw, shit, I gotta call Chet and Marco; they don't even know about this!"

He slapped his hand on the table and stood up quickly. His knees buckled and he flopped back to the sofa. "Whoa..." he said, grabbing the arm of the sofa, trying to clear his dizziness. Knowing what was happening, Roy leaned over and put his head between his knees. "Uh...Dixie? I-I think I could use a little help here."

The rush was beginning to dissipate and Dixie had anticipated Roy's reaction. She stood ready with a can of orange juice she had purchased from the vending machine, and sat down next to him. She slid a straw into the can, and offered the juice to him as he leaned over. "Here, Roy, drink this," Dixie offered, as she sat down next to him.

Roy sipped gratefully on the juice and leaned back into the stiff leather cushions, his head still a bit woozy. "Thanks, Dix." He closed his eyes again and said, "What a night, huh? I sure wish I could press a rewind button and start it all over again; I could think of about a million things I'd change." Opening his eyes, he put the swiftly emptied can of orange juice on the table, sighed, and looked at Dixie, "You, ah, you know I didn't mean it...about killing Jordan...right?"

"Roy DeSoto," Dixie said with mock sternness, "you save lives, you don't take them, and anyone who knows you, knows that's the truth. You have every right to be angry now, and, while Jordan may be a poor excuse for a human being, you still wouldn't kill him." Then Dixie smiled and shrugged, "Maybe punch him in the face a few times, but you wouldn't kill him. At any rate, I don't think you'll have the chance to do anything to him. Last I heard, the boys from Squad 23 said Jordan was pretty well a goner before he even got here."

Roy huffed a small laugh and closed his eyes for a moment, "Well, I can't say I'm upset by that news, anyway. Hey, uh, who's got Cap in surgery? Is he doin' okay? Is Mike in a room yet? Can I see them?"

Dixie smiled warmly at Roy and knew he'd never let himself relax completely until he knew his friends were going to be okay. "Alright, I don't know everything, but I was there when they came in, so I'll tell you what I do know. Let's start with Mike. When he got here, his blood pressure was climbing and approaching crisis level. Dr. Early was very concerned about Mike having a stroke. He was pretty confused and agitated, and was complaining of chest pain and a bad headache. I know he was really fretting about Captain Stanley and John, too."

Roy nodded, remembering how unnerved he had been, and Dixie continued, "I was there with him, though to be honest, I'm not sure he knew what was going on at that point. I know Dr. Early gave Mike I.V. meds to bring his BP down as fast as possible and I'm pretty sure that was helping. Once he stabilizes, Dr. Early is going to have some x-rays done to make sure no damage was done to the surgery site. He's still getting IV meds, and he's on oxygen. Dr. Early put him back in ICU too, so he can monitor him for a while. That's pretty much all I can tell you about that."

"Okay...and Cap?" Roy asked, trying to digest the information.

"Captain Stanley's wound was, fortunately, a perforating wound, so there was no bullet to be removed. However, he'd lost a little more than two liters of blood by the time he got here, and I'm told it's because the bullet nicked an artery. Dr. Ramsey did his surgery and as far as I know, everything was repaired nicely. He's pretty weak yet from the blood loss and he's also going to be in ICU, to watch for infection. I called the Captain's wife, and she's in there with him now."

"I guess that's good news. I'm glad you called his wife; I can't believe I totally forgot about that until just now. Is Cap awake? Can I see him?"

Dixie glanced down at her watch, "Hm, he was being moved to Recovery just before you got here with John, so let me check where he is first, and I'll let you know."

"Okay," Roy said, dolefully. "I, uh, I think I'll go call Joanne and Chet and Marco. Will you let me know when Johnny gets moved to a room, too?"

"Sure thing," Dixie said. "And, hey, why don't you use the phone in here? I think when you're done making your calls, you should lie down for a bit; at least until Joanne or someone gets here."

Roy thought about protesting, but honestly, he really did feel like he'd been shoved through a knot-hole backwards and the thought of a few quiet minutes alone was really appealing. "You know, Dix, that's the best offer I've had all day," he said, rubbing his palms across his tired eyes. "Thanks."

"You take care, Roy. I'll go check on your partner, and be back in a few minutes," Dixie smiled at him.

Roy smiled back and eased himself up and over to the table where the phone sat. He looked up at the clock on the wall: five o'clock in the morning. So much had happened in the past four hours, he could barely recall anything that happened beforehand. He picked up the phone and called Joanne.

E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*

Finally, all the squads and ambulances had departed from Mike's house and the curious neighbors had all returned to their homes. The only people remaining were the four policemen, still looking for evidence. The beams of their flashlights swept thoroughly around the dark property, and occasionally, a flash bulb would pop as photos were taken of the scene.

"Hey! Check this out!" one of the police officers called from the front yard. Another officer came over and peered down at what had been found. It was a syringe, used up and tossed in the gutter. Carefully, they lifted it with tongs and placed it in a clear plastic bag.

"Article number one!" the first officer chuckled. "Ten bucks says this belongs to the dude who flipped out. Man, he was in bad shape; I'll bet he's a goner, even if this wasn't a big amount. If he's been shootin' up for years; he'd only need a dime's worth and...poof!" he said, with a snap of his fingers,"dead."

The second officer chuckled and agreed, "Yep. Once that shit gets its claws in ya' it only gets worse. Wasn't that the guy they thought was running all those guns?"

"Yeah, I think so," the other replied. "If it was, then I don't feel a bit sorry for his ass. Too bad about Piper, though. I wonder why he went back there by himself? He shoulda' waited for backup." They turned to enter the house and join the other officers inside.

Next to the fence, Sir Pain sat, bewildered by the cessation of the chaos. He licked at a few scratches he'd gotten from diving into the shrubs, and nibbled at his claws, trying to pull out the remnants from his tussle with Eddie Jordan. Once that was accomplished, he strolled back into the garage and trotted into the house. One of the police officers noticed him.

"Hey, there's a cat in the kitchen. You guys s'pose he belongs here?" the man asked.

"Cripes, Louie, I don't know," said another officer. "Go see if he has tags or a collar or somethin'."

Louie shrugged and approached Sir Pain, who flinched at the sight of yet another stranger in 'his' house. The cat darted around the man's legs, and ran for the safety of Mike's bedroom. He made himself as inconspicuous as possible by huddling between the bedpost and the side table. Louie followed Sir Pain, but really didn't care if the cat belonged here or not. He poked around disinterestedly, and when he didn't immediately find Sir Pain, he went back to the living room to resume the search for evidence.

By that time, the bullet which had splintered the door frame was found, the bullet that had wounded Captain Stanley had been located, and photos of the entire house and yard were taken. It was time to leave the scene and the four officers left the lights on, locked up the house and re-attached the crime-scene tape before driving off. Louie felt a little guilty leaving the cat inside, but Sir Pain was as grateful as a cat could be to have Mike's house quiet again. Once he was sure he was alone, Sir Pain jumped to the top of Mike's bed and curled up to sleep. It had been a very long night.