A/N: I know I marked this story as complete but when new material presented itself, well I just had to break it back out and add another chapter.

Gageisms

Chapter 10

Gonna Puke

Finally, Johnny heard the dinging sound and watched with a sense of relief as the silver doors slid apart. A pretty blonde haired nurse exited flashing him a perfect white smile. His injuries temporarily forgotten, Johnny's head and ogling brown eyes followed the curvaceous figure as she sauntered past him wiggling her fingers in a flirtatious wave. He twisted his upper body to follow her retreating form when suddenly Roy stepped up behind him, grasping the handles of the wheelchair from Dixie and quickly shoving his unsuspecting partner inside the elevator. He spun Johnny around quickly to face forward – but not quick enough for the injured man to continue his girl-watching.

"Whoa….I'm gonna get whiplash, Di…uh." Johnny stuttered with the realization that his favorite nurse was no longer in control of his wheelchair.

Dixie stood leaning against the elevator doors preventing them from closing, slowly crossing her arms over her chest. She arched one eyebrow above her long eyelashes and watched Johnny dip his head with a sheepish grin.

"Uh…sorry, Dix. I know, I know…I was just lookin'."

"Mm-hmm," she responded, fighting back the giggle that threatened to overtake her stern facial expression as she saw Roy's eyes roll behind his partner's back. She removed herself from blocking the doors, walking inside and turning around, tapping an elegant fingernail on the button for the ground floor of Rampart General Hospital.

The elevator doors quickly shut and with a bit of a stutter, it began its descent.

"Ugh," Johnny groaned wrapping his good arm around his midsection. A light sheen formed across his forehead and upper lip while a slightly ashen color painted his chiseled features.

"Junior…you alright?"

Johnny inhaled deeply, forcefully blowing out the air and puffing out his pale cheeks. "I think I'm gonna puke," he groaned. The spinning action of Roy's wheelchair driving coupled with the sudden dropping of the elevator topped off with a healthy dose of analgesics caused his head to spin and his stomach to churn.

"Better move back here, Dixie," Roy deadpanned. "Johnny's been involved in some pretty wild emetic episodes."

"Oh, gah…no, Roy…just don't…'k?" Johnny was glad both of his friends were standing behind him because he didn't want them to see the grin that was beginning to peek out from his bowed head.

Dixie suddenly remembered the call to which Roy was referring and leaned her face into Roy's shoulder effectively muffling her guffaws.

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"Squad 51, injured child, 2397 East Carson St. Apartment C-3…that's 2-3-9-7 East Carson St. Apartment C-3, cross street Arnold Center Rd."

Hank loped from his office to acknowledge the call as his paramedics made their way to the squad.

"Squad 51…KMG365."

Roy accepted the address slip from their captain; passing it on to his partner as the bay door rose. As was usually the case on a run involving a child, the cab of the squad was silent except for the occasional direction given by Johnny. Not every run involving children had a happy outcome; they just hoped that this one would not be one of those.

Roy screeched the tires of the squad as he pulled up to the gray building, Johnny peeling out of the passenger's side door. The two paramedics quickly retrieved their equipment and hurriedly ascended the stairs of building C.

A frantic woman ushered them inside the small apartment. "Please hurry…he's…he's in the bathroom."

"Ok, just show us." Johnny lifted the brim of his helmet with a nudge from the back of his right hand.

"Ma'am…can you tell us what happened?" Roy was right behind the mother as she stepped through the doorway, stepping aside to allow the paramedics access to her son.

The toddler was sitting beside the toilet sniffling, his tear-stained face accented by a quarter-sized purplish-blue knot just above his right eyebrow, pudgy hands holding a wet washcloth.

"Hey buddy…bump your head?"

Roy did his best to engage the child and calm him while Johnny assembled the biophone.

"Ma'am…how old is he and what exactly happened?" Johnny took out his notepad and green pen as Roy continued talking to the owl-eyed child.

"Wanna play with my little light?" Roy checked the boy's pupillary response while pretending to be playing 'keep away' with him. He quickly completed his task then handed the penlight to the waving hands of the little boy. "Equal and reactive."

"Um…Jessie's three years old…he's been sick for the last few hours with…"

Roy watched the tell-tale signs of what the mother was saying. Jessie gagged a couple of times then began to whimper. Roy quickly moved out of the line of fire of the toddler's vomitus outburst just as Jessie seemed to explode. His subsequent wailing brought out the paternal instincts of Roy who began to soothe Jessie by rubbing his back and continuing his examination speaking to him in a calm soft voice.

"Oh my poor baby…he was throwing up hard just like that and got off balance. He…he slipped down and hit his head on the toilet."

"So the vomiting started before the bump on the head?" Johnny pulled the black receiver from the orange biophone consulting his notebook as he contacted Rampart General Hospital.

"Yes…about three hours or so," she said wringing her hands.

"Rampart, this is squad 51…how do you read?"

"Is he able to keep down any liquids?" Roy watched the nervous mother shake her head negatively.

"No…everything just comes back up…just like what you saw there," she pointed at the mess little Jessie had made on the bathroom wall.

"Loud and clear, 51…go ahead," Dr. Morton responded.

Johnny had heard the mother's response to his partner's questions. "Rampart, we have a three year old male who has slipped bumping his head on a toilet. He has a small protruding knot above his right eyebrow that is bruising. Ah, there's no laceration. Child has been vomiting for approximately three hours and is unable to keep down any liquids," he spoke in his most professional voice, rubbing his right hand across his forehead fighting his own nausea as he turned his face away from the soiled wall. "Ah, Rampart, be advised the child has erectile vomiting." He hung his head pinching the bridge of his nose at the realization of what he'd just said to Dr. Morton.

"51…did you advise the child has…projectile…vomiting?" Dr. Morton's exaggerated emphasis on the word projectile confirmed to the paramedics that he had indeed heard exactly what Johnny had said.

Roy fought the bellows bubbling up from deep inside his gut; his mind's eye providing him with humorous visions of Johnny's description. When he had composed himself, he peeked up at his partner noting that he was shaking his head negatively as the blush overtook his throat and face. He was somewhat relieved to see that Jessie's mother hadn't noticed.

Johnny returned the receiver to his ear, his keen eye catching the slight jerking motion of Jessie as he began to heave again. "Uh, Ro…Roy he's gonna…"

"Uurrgh," Jessie responded as if on cue; his stomach contents hurtling onto Johnny's outstretched arm.

He shook his arm in an effort to rid himself of the foul smelling mess. "Aahhh, affirmative Rampart…definitely projectile vomiting."

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Roy and Dixie continued their child-like giggling at Johnny's expense as his queasiness began to subside.

"Oh Johnny…Mike Morton had so much fun replaying that tape for everyone in the ER that day," Dixie mused stroking the back of his head as if he were a child.

Johnny shrugged the memory off with a wave of his hand at his friends just as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor.

"Feeling ok now?"

"I guess…just take me home, Roy…please?"

"Uh-oh…still not feeling well, Johnny?" Dixie knew the answer but she couldn't resist just a bit more good natured ribbing. "Need a little Phenergan like Jessie?"

Johnny's eyes widened. "Oh no…you're not gonna stick anything in my…"

"Bye Johnny," she waved, interrupting his rant as Roy pushed him on down the corridor towards the exit.

"Roy…please tell me there won't be any more stories on the ride home…please?"

Roy looked into the dejected brown eyes of his friend, eyes that reminded him of a sad puppy. He smiled as he helped Johnny out of the wheelchair and into his car for the ride back to the DeSoto house for his recuperation.

"Roy?"

Blue eyes sparkled mischievously as he closed the door on his still pleading partner.