"Well, Roy, it looks like the swelling is gone, and I don't see any evidence of other damage," said Dr. Early as he clicked off the lamp over the exam table.

Roy swung his feet over the edge of the table and sat up, quickly jumping off the table. "Thanks, Doc," he called as he started out.

"Hang on a minute, Roy," Early told him. "You need to take this with you." He handed Roy a release form. "Now you can get back to work, get your life back to normal."

"Normal?" Roy asked incredulously.

"I guess it won't be too normal without your partner coming back, too," Early realized. "Tell me, how is it going with you and Johnny right now?"

"I'm going to head up there as soon as we're done here."

"That's good, but are things okay with you two?" Early asked worriedly. "I know he's been pretty depressed lately. What about you?"

"Well, I think. I mean…we're okay." Roy shifted uncomfortably. Did Johnny say something to him? He promised me we would keep this between the two of us.

"I know it's not easy seeing Johnny the way he is," Early said with a shake of his head. "It's hard for us, too, and we weren't there with him when it happened."

I wasn't just there, I was the one who did that to him. "Johnny's going to get better, Doc," Roy said with all the conviction he could muster. "As long as we remember that we'll be okay."

"Roy, he might not…"

"We can't think that way, Dr. Early," Roy scolded him. "Hope is the only thing Johnny has right now. You can't take that away from him, or he'll have nothing else to live for." He pulled open the door of the exam room. "Thanks again, Doc. See ya later."

*******

Marco was stirring the chili in the large pot on the stove, while Chet set the bowls around the table. Mike took the last gulp from the can of soda in his hand and tossed the can in the trash can. Chet whirled around and shouted, "Don't put that there!"

"What?" Mike shot Chet an exasperated look.

"Did you forget about the special place for those cans? Come on, let's make an effort here," pleaded Chet.

Mike rolled his eyes and opened the back door. He tossed the can into the metal garbage can that Chet had labeled "Aluminum cans only."

Marco smiled as he continued stirring. Chet's position on recycling had changed after Johnny's shooting. Chet said it was because he'd done further research and discovered that he could make some money off of it, but Marco knew his friend better than that. Chet was supporting Johnny's cause to express his support for his fallen "pigeon." It was just Chet's way.

The squad rolled into the bay and the two doors slammed shut. Roy strolled in followed by Bellingham. Bob had been filling in for Johnny's shifts since the shoot-out, while Brice had taken on a trainee. Roy was grateful that with all that he was dealing with, training a new paramedic was not his responsibility right now.

"Okay, guys, chili's on," Marco said as he set the pot in the middle of the table.

Roy smiled sadly and sat in his usual spot. Hank came through the door and patted his stomach. "Smells good, Marco, my man. I'm hungry."

The men concentrated on their meal and very little were said. Roy tried to ignore the worried and curious glances of the other men. No, I'm not up to talking about Johnny, so don't ask.

"Roy, are you going to see John today?"

Leave it to Cap to make me talk anyway. "Yeah, I am."

Marco noticed the grim look on Roy's face. Guess that's all we're going to get today.

"Well, let him know…" Hank was interrupted by the dispatcher.

"Squad 51, trouble breathing, 345 Cavalier Rd, 3-4-5 Cavalier Rd, cross street, Edwards. Time out, 11:53."

"Squad 51, KMG-365," responded Hank. He handed the slip to Roy and the squad rolled out.

*******

As they pulled into the drive of the woman's house, a young woman with her arm in a sling waved them down.

"Hurry, she's having a hard time catching her breath! In here!" she cried frantically.

"Okay, we're right behind you," said Bellingham.

When they arrived in the living room, Roy noticed the wheelchair next to the couch before he even glanced at his patient.

"Ma'am, we're paramedics from the Los Angeles County Fire Department. We're here to help," Roy said in his most soothing voice.

Bellingham set up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?"

Roy looked up at the woman's daughter. "What's her name?"

"Helen," Paula told him.

"Does she have a history of asthma?" Roy asked.

Paula nodded. "She tried using her inhaler, but it didn't work," she explained anxiously. "That's when I called you."

"Was she in an accident recently?" Roy questioned, motioning to the wheelchair.

"She's been paralyzed for 20 years," Paula informed him. "We did have an accident a few weeks ago, though. Could that be what's causing this?"

"I don't know yet," Roy admitted. "Helen, I need to check your blood pressure," he told her with a reassuring smile. "I want to listen to your lungs, too, okay?"

Helen nodded. Roy put the stethoscope to her chest. "There's bilateral wheezing," he called to Bellingham, who jotted down the information. "Let's get some oxygen on you," Roy suggested to Helen. "I think it will make you feel much better."

He quickly set up the oxygen, and then started on vitals. As he methodically checked her respiration, BP and pulse, he couldn't help but sneak glances at the wheelchair, wondering what her story was.

His thoughts wandered to the past weekend and the attempts they made to convince Johnny that it was time for a rehab center.