Johnny glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror on the morning of the sixth day after the assault. He wanted his life back and wanted to go back to work. He would make everything normal again. He frowned, worried about the others' reaction to his face, although it looked much better than it did a couple of days ago. He touched his cheek. The bruises were starting to yellow and the scabs were drying up. He ran his tongue over his still painful and puffy lip. It felt hot and looked like it might be infected. He took a deep breath. His ribs ached a bit, but nowhere near as badly as before. His gut and his back felt considerably less sore as well. He even managed to keep some soup and crackers down the night before. He figured the biggest problem would be the story he told the guys. Telling lies was complicated business, and Johnny wasn't very good at it. He was a dreamer, not a schemer. His face always gave him away when he tried to lie, so the story had to be close enough to the truth to be believable. Remembering what he told the police—that he had been mugged—he finally concocted a plausible enough story that he could tell the others. He flipped off the bathroom light and slammed the door.
When he got to the door of the apartment, he froze, staring at the inside of the door, heart pounding, hot fear flooding his veins and making him shake. He had not left the apartment since returning five days ago. Now fear trapped him inside his own apartment. He just knew that Toby Barnes would be lurking on the other side of the door. Rationally, he knew that it was probably safe to go outside; emotionally, he was positive that it wasn't. He glanced at the clock. If he didn't leave right now, he would be late, and he certainly didn't need Cap chewing him out on top of everything else. Taking a deep breath and pushing down the fear, he reached out a trembling hand, opened the door a crack and peered out. No one waited in the hall. He puffed out the breath that he was holding and stepped outside his apartment. The door clicked shut behind him, like the sound of a hammer on a gun. He walked quickly down the hallway and descended the stairs, stopping when he got to the vestibule, reaching one more door. He paused just a moment to peer through the glass, then stepped out into the early morning sun.
A quick visual assessment revealed no one in the parking lot. Johnny crossed to his car, looked through the windows into the back, unlocked the door, got in, slammed the door shut, and then locked it immediately. Although the air in the car felt stuffy, he only rolled down the window a quarter of the way. After one last glance around, he exhaled shakily, then started up the car and drove off.
Johnny walked into the locker room, trying to avert his face as he passed Chet, Marco and Mike.
"Morning, Ga- Holy shit! What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"Chet!" Marco elbowed his buddy in the ribs.
"Well, I think it's a definite improvement. He couldn't look any worse than he did before." Chet tried to mask his concern with humor.
"Very funny, Chet," Johnny said with a noticeable lack of his usual energetic response to Chet's teasing. He busied himself with the contents of his locker.
Roy came in the locker room. "Morning, guys."
"Morning, Roy," Chet, Mike and Marco chorused, three pairs of eyes watching Roy approach his locker.
Receiving no response from Johnny, Roy leaned over and tapped his partner on the shoulder. "Feeling better, Joh—" As Johnny pulled his head out of the locker, Roy exclaimed, "My god, what happened to your face?" He stepped closer, extending a hand toward his partner's face.
Johnny blocked the hand before it reached even halfway to making contact. "Nothing."
"Can't take 'no' for an answer, Gage?"
"Shut up, Chet!" Johnny whirled around to face Chet, anger blazing in his eyes.
"Whoa! Just kidding." Chet held up his hands placatingly.
"What happened, Johnny?" Roy's eyes and voice conveyed his concern.
Johnny took a breath, looked at the floor, and told his half-truth tonelessly. "I got mugged while I was running on Tuesday. The guy had a gun. He wanted money. I didn't have any. So he beat me up instead."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
Just then Cap poked his head into the locker room. "Roll call, two min- Gage! What the hell happened to you?"
"He was mugged," Chet supplied before Johnny had time to respond.
"You okay, John?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. It looks worse than it is. I can work."
"Did you see a doctor?"
"No. I'm fine."
Cap looked him up and down for a second, obviously debating the validity of the paramedic's claim. Then encompassing all of the men with his glance, he said, "Roll call in two minutes," and left the locker room.
The four remaining men looked at Johnny.
"What?" Johnny demanded belligerently, arms crossed.
"What did the police say?" Roy asked as he started getting dressed.
"Nothing. There wasn't anything they could do."
"There must be something…" protested Roy.
"They're not going to find the guy. I'm fine, Roy. It's over. I just want to forget it." Johnny turned slightly away from Roy, poking around inside his locker once again.
"Okay, okay. If that's the way you want it." Roy looked away as he finished dressing. "But…"
"But what?" Johnny's tone expressed his exasperation.
"We're just worried that you're going to scare the victims today."
"Shut up, Chet."
The others returned to what they were doing before Johnny's explanation. Johnny covertly observed them while slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Why hadn't he thought to put his uniform on, or at least a T-shirt, before coming to work this morning? Grabbing a clean T-shirt from the locker, he left the door open and headed to the latrine. He slowly donned the article of clothing, trying to gauge how long his shiftmates would take to finish up. He remembered to flush the toilet before going back into the locker room. Obfuscation complete, he returned to the now deserted locker room and hurriedly finished changing.
Johnny took his place next to Roy as Cap began outlining the day's assignments. Johnny pulled latrine duty and, for once, he felt inordinately grateful to have the solo assignment. Fire hydrant inspections rounded out the day's agenda. Cap dismissed the men. The firefighters and the paramedics headed over to the engine and the squad respectively to check the lights, siren, fuel, oxygen, SCBA and oil, ensuring that all was in readiness. When the engine crew finished, they headed off to the kitchen for their usual cup of coffee before tackling the day's housekeeping tasks. Roy and Johnny stayed behind to do the daily equipment calibration with Rampart and to inventory the supplies.
Roy performed the first task and was putting the equipment away. The drug box and the trauma kit sat opened on the ground beside Johnny. He held a pen between his teeth as he counted the various vials in the drug box. Johnny winced a little as he bumped his lip upon removing the pen to write down the inventory.
Roy didn't miss the mild expression of pain. "Don't you think you should see a doctor?"
Johnny didn't look up, intent on writing. "No. Didn't need stitches. Nothing's broken."
"I think you should let a doctor decide that."
A look of profound annoyance flitted across Johnny's face. "Cut the paramedic crap, Roy. I can tell if I need to see a doctor."
"You told me you had the flu," Roy pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact.
Nonplussed, Johnny scrambled for an excuse. "And, see, this is why. I knew you'd be all over me about this. I'm fine." Johnny turned his back and busied himself with the drug box. Maybe he'd alphabetize them a la Brice.
Roy just gazed at his partner in long suffering silence, his expression clearly saying that he knew this was going to be a long shift. Roy's musings were interrupted by an alarm.
"Station 51. Traffic accident with injuries. 1200 block of 213th St. Twelve hundred block of Two hundred thirteenth Street. Cross street Perry. Time out 8:15."
Johnny quickly closed up the boxes. He and Roy each put one into the appropriate bay, and then got into the squad just as Cap finished writing down the address. Both vehicles headed toward the scene of the accident, lights flashing and sirens blaring.