"Station 51. Structure fire. 215 Desford St. Two-one-five Desford. Cross street Grace. Time out 3:14."
The men of Station 51 dropped what they were doing and took their places in the engine and the squad. They rolled on the call with lights flashing and sirens wailing.
"Station 51, cancel. Return to station."
"Must have been a false alarm," Roy commented without concern, as he cut the lights and the siren.
False alarm? Johnny started to tremble and couldn't seem to catch his breath. How could Roy be so unconcerned about a false alarm? Was it beginning all over again? Was Barnes doing it again? Was it all going to happen again?
"You know, that's the first one for a couple of shifts now. Not like before." Roy glanced over at Johnny and did a double take. "Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah." He started to breathe once more. "You think they're starting up again?" he asked, voice pitched slightly higher than normal.
"No. This is different. Dispatch called us back. The other ones were to vacant lots or to people who hadn't even called us, remember? We haven't had many trash fires lately, either," Roy pointed out helpfully.
"Oh. Yeah."
As soon as they got back to the station Johnny disappeared in the opposite direction as the others.
"Johnny? Cap wants…" Roy walked into the dorm and then froze as he spotted his partner. Johnny sat pressed up against the wall, huddling between their two bunks. Roy was shocked to see that it looked like Johnny was crying.
Dealing with tears was never one of Roy's strong suits. Not from his wife. Not from his kids. And, certainly not from his partner. He tentatively approached. "Johnny?" he asked softly.
"Go away, Roy. I don't want… I can't…" Johnny shielded his face with his arm and tried to speak through the tears.
"I don't want to leave you like this. What…" Roy hovered anxiously.
Johnny waved him back, still trying to force the tears away. "No."
"Can I get you something?"
"Kleenex."
Roy walked over to the small desk near the door where the box of tissues sat, pulled out a wad and brought them to Johnny. Johnny wiped his face and his nose, then leaned his head back against the wall, clutching the sodden tissues in his hand, his breath coming in little hitches, lips still trembling even as he pressed them together.
Roy sat down at the foot of the bed, trying not to crowd his partner. "Johnny," he said very quietly. "We've got to talk."
"I'm having a hard time, Roy."
"I know."
"I … I feel … He was going to kill me, Roy. I knew he was going to kill me. He was holding the gun to my head. I froze."
"Yeah. That must make you feel pretty helpless. Pretty out of control."
A small, fleeting smile tugged at Johnny's mouth and disappeared even more quickly than it had come. "Oh, yeah. You sound like Wilson. Control. We paramedics are really big on control." He remembered some of the things he had talked about with Dr. Wilson, a LACoFD psychiatrist, last December, when he had thought that he lost his paramedic's license. The whole situation with Barnes had started with the mix-up of the paramedic exams. "He was going to kill me."
"That sounds pretty scary. I know I'd be scared."
Johnny exhaled and closed his eyes. "It's not like when we're working a dangerous rescue. I mean, that's scary, too. But you just don't think about it while you're working. You just do it. And maybe afterwards, when you think 'there but for the grace of god,' when the adrenaline has worn off, then maybe you get the shakes. But this. This was right there. There… there wasn't…" His voice trailed off as his chin began to tremble and he clenched his teeth. Looking straight ahead at the opposite wall, he said with a quiver in his voice, "Roy, could you just go for a while? Please?"
"Okay, partner." Roy stood and began backing away, his eyes filled with concern, the expression on his face evincing his reluctance to leave his friend in so much distress. When his back hit the door, he fumbled behind him for the handle. After finding it, he opened the door and slipped halfway out. "I'll be back later."
As he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, he almost collided with Cap.
"Did you find…" Cap started to say and then stopped as he noticed the expression on Roy's face. "What's the matter?"
"I found him. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Cap let out a frustrated sigh and gazed into the distance for a second. Looking back at Roy, he said, "What is going on with him? He's been impossible lately."
Roy rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I think it's from getting mugged. It's the after-effects of the trauma. I did a little reading about it."
"Well? What did you find out?"
Just then Mike approached the doorway where they stood conversing. "Hold on a minute, Mike." Cap put his hand up.
"I was just going to get a book I left in the dorm."
Cap shook his head in negation. "Not right now. Roy, I think it would be good if you explained it to all of us. How long do you think he's going to be in there?"
"Not long."
"Roy, go get Chet and Marco; they're out back hanging hose. We'll meet in the kitchen. Come on, Mike." Cap led the way across the engine bay.
Johnny heard the sound of voices outside the dorm, but couldn't make out the words. It had been exactly two weeks since… since something really bad had happened to him. Something impossibly dirty, something that never should have happened.
After the voices left, Johnny struggled not to cry again. He hugged himself with his arms and rocked gently back and forth as he failed to stop the liquid misery that spilled out of his eyes and ran from his nose. He knew he couldn't be doing this at work at work. Cap would send him to the funny farm for sure. He wanted so badly to talk with someone. But he was so afraid. So afraid… Afraid of what would happen if anyone found out. Afraid that they would see that he was less of a man. Afraid that they would ridicule him. Afraid that they would reject him. Afraid that they would think he wanted it. Afraid that they would think he did something to deserve it. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he had made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have let Barnes kill him after all. Maybe he would do it himself.
When Roy returned to the kitchen with Chet and Marco, Cap said, "Everybody have a seat. Okay, we've all noticed that John has not been himself the past couple of weeks…"
"Well, that's an understatement," grumbled Chet.
"Shut up and listen, Kelly. Roy says he's done some reading that might shed some light on what's going on. Roy?"
"You all know I'm not a psychiatrist, but our paramedic's manual does have an extensive section on psychiatric conditions. I think Johnny is suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome."
"I've head of that. But Johnny's not a vet," said Chet.
"It doesn't affect just veterans. It affects anyone who has suffered a traumatic experience. And getting beat up and having someone hold a gun to your head and thinking you're going to die is a traumatic experience."
"So, you're saying that you think the way he's been acting is a reaction to getting mugged?" asked Cap.
"Yeah, I think so. Some of the most common symptoms are irritability and anger…"
"He's definitely got those! He damned near bites our heads off every time we try to talk to him!" commented Marco.
"…Insomnia, nightmares and flashbacks…"
"I don't know about the nightmares or flashbacks, but he ends up on the sofa every shift," observed Cap.
"…Restlessness…"
"He's never been able to sit still, but now it's like he's Ricochet Rabbit, or something," said Chet.
"…Fear…"
"Like with the snake the other day. It almost looked like he was going to cry for a minute." This perceptive comment came from Mike, who had until now said nothing.
"…Physical symptoms, like trembling, stomach problems, headaches, and lots of other psychological symptoms. The ones you'd notice might be depression and loss of interest in things he used to enjoy."
"So, what does this mean?" asked Chet.
"It means that he's not going to be himself for a while, until he gets over it."
"What can we do about it?" asked Cap.
"There really isn't a lot we can do. Don't treat him with kid gloves, but don't go out of your way to bug him, either. If he wants to talk, listen, but don't try to tell him how he should feel. We guys tend to want to fix stuff. That's how we are. But, that's not going to work here. Time is the best healer. I guess all we can do is be patient and be ourselves while he's trying to cope."
"How long is it going to take?"
"I don't know. Everybody is different."
Cap met the eyes of each man at the table. "I need to know right now if any of you think you can't trust Gage on the job. If you think he can't back you up. It's okay if you don't want to work with him."
"He's been a real pain in the ass around the station, but I haven't seen anything on the job that I can't live with," said Chet.
"He's keeping his professionalism on rescues. He backed me up on the hose the other day just fine," added Marco.
"I can work with him," agreed Mike.
"What about you, Roy? You work the most closely with him."
"I'm okay with him."
"If any of you have any other concerns about this, you know my door is always open."