Johnny groaned a little as he rose from the chair, the residual soreness from the karate class making itself known. He always thought his legs were pretty strong, but the protest from stiff muscles evinced that he had new ones he hadn't even known were there. He stretched his arms up over his head and leaned back. Even his back and shoulders were a bit sore.
"What's the matter with you? Getting old?" teased Chet.
"No. I'm just a little sore from the karate class I took the other day."
"You're taking karate?"
"Yeah. I just started."
"Where are you doing that?" asked Roy, looking up from the paper he was reading.
"Remember that place we saw next to the butcher's shop a couple of weeks ago?"
Roy shrugged. "I remember the butcher's shop. I don't really remember the karate place."
"It's pretty interesting. And surprisingly hard." He kneaded his quadriceps. "The sensei, that's the word for teacher, makes it look so easy, though. She's only about five feet tall…"
"She?" Chet asked, with a smirk. "Oh, so that's why you're taking the class."
Johnny shot Chet an irritated glance before continuing to address Roy. "That's not why. Anyway, she makes it look so easy. We were sparring and she kept nailing me every time before I even got close to her. She's really fast. And she kept taking me down to the mat like it was nothing."
"Didn't know you were into submission, Gage." Chet waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "Didn't think you were the type…"
Anger flashed across Johnny's face. "Shut up, Chet!" he snapped and abruptly turned, seeming to flee the room.
Roy glared at Chet in exasperation before retreating behind his newspaper.
"What?" Chet asked. "What? It's not my fault he's so thin-skinned. He can't take a joke anymore."
"Morning, guys," Chet greeted Roy and Johnny as they entered the locker room.
"Morning, Chet," the two responded, almost in unison. "Hiya, Marco," Johnny added as he passed the man on his way to his locker.
"Morning, Johnny." Marco ostensibly pretended to be busy getting dressed, but actually he was curious to see if Chet's latest foray in practical jokedom would be successful or not. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shaving cream pie miss the paramedic and land with a mushy splat on the opposite locker.
"Missed again, Chet," smirked Roy, just as Cap poked his head into the room to tell the men to gather for roll call.
Taking in the white globs slowly oozing down the front of the locker, he said, "Clean up that mess after roll call, Kelly. Two minutes, guys."
Seven minutes later found Chet back in the locker room, cleaning up the remains of this latest practical joke gone awry. His puzzlement grew over his seeming inability to catch Johnny with his jokes any more. True, his pigeon still verbally set himself up all the time, although he often left in a snit when Chet teased him. But, Johnny seemed to be circumventing a lot of Chet's best physical pranks, such as shaving cream pies, water balloons, rigged salt shakers and coffee cups. Had the paramedic developed a sixth sense or something? Chet began to worry that he was losing his touch.
"Cap just told me about what happened to Captain Walker at 127s," Roy mentioned to Johnny as they dressed down one evening.
"What happened?"
"He fell through the floor at an apartment fire."
"Is he okay?"
"Broken leg and some burns. He'll be out a good three months at least. He's a good man, I really enjoyed working with him when he was here. It's too bad.."
Johnny continued preparing his turnout pants, his thoughts a million miles away. Roy, upon seeing that Johnny was no longer paying attention to him, struck up a conversation with Marco, when Johnny interrupted, "What kind of fire was it?"
"Huh?"
"Was it intentional or accidental?"
"I didn't hear anything, so I assume it was accidental."
"Hmm," came Johnny's noncommittal reply as he turned back to fiddling with his gear.
Roy sleeplessly lay on his right side in the quiet dark of the dorm, worrying about the man he called partner and friend. He felt like he stood on a distant shore, watching someone drown, helpless, unable to do anything to assist. Roy scrubbed a hand over his face. No, it wasn't like watching from a distance. It felt more like holding a hand out to someone who was drowning, only to have that person refuse to reach out and take the proffered hand. Roy alternated between wanting to grab his partner and haul him aboard despite the lack of cooperation and being content to wait until his partner was ready for help.
The tones sounded and they rolled out of bed, thrusting their feet into their turnout pants and pulling them up. Johnny met Roy's eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking away, a slight fllush staining his cheeks.
As he watched Johnny free climb the radio tower in the glare of the floodlights, Cap briefly reflected on the fact that the dark-haired paramedic had once again volunteered for a hazardous assignment. He had been monitoring the man's behavior closely, but none of it raised a red flag for him in terms of the paramedic's professional abilities. True, Johnny's behavior could still be called a bit testy, which did make station-life unpleasant at times, but if being hard to live with were grounds for a psychiatric evaluation, half of LACoFD would be in the shrink's office at any given time. He thought Roy probably bore the brunt of it, but Roy neither complained nor mentioned anything to him. Professionally speaking, Cap had no complaints about Johnny. If he had noticed any recklessness, he would have been worried; however, the man performed his duties with meticulous care, never taking unwarranted chances or foolish risks. The others also expressed their confidence in working with him and, to Cap, Johnny seemed to be recovering from his ordeal of a few months ago, save perhaps this new penchant for the dangerous, adrenaline-rush aspect of work.
"You want to go fishing up in Santa Clara County next weekend?"
"Uh, no thanks. I've already got other plans." Johnny looked away, feeling guilty and ashamed. He considered Roy his best friend, yet he kept pushing him away. But, how could he explain to the other man that he feared going camping with him? The panic he felt whenever his partner got too close, because of what might be discovered? That he dreaded finding out that Roy might loathe him as much as he loathed himself if only he knew the terrible truth? "Roy…?"
Roy looked back over his shoulder at Johnny with raised eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Nothing." Johnny turned back to his locker.
Roy considered Johnny as he walked out to his car. He really thought for a minute there that Johnny might change his mind, seeing the plea in his partner's eyes. But, was it a plea to be left alone or a plea to come closer? He didn't know. If Roy had been asked to characterize Johnny in two words, he would have chosen the phrase "eternal optimist." His partner always seemed to expect good things to happen and was genuinely surprised if they didn't. And when things didn't turn out the way Johnny anticipated, as often was the case, the man almost always found a way to turn the result into something else satisfying. This good-natured, almost innocent outlook on life drew people to him, to his warmth of spirit, to his generosity of heart.
But since getting mugged, something darker had intruded. Johnny was less trusting, less willing to take things at face value. He appeared less open and his actions were a hair more cautious; he seemed almost painfully aware of people and things around him. The personal space boundaries with which all people surround themselves had altered as well. Roy noticed that Johnny stood just a few centimeters farther off during their conversations, as well as remarked on the slightly different way his partner handed objects to him, ensuring that their hands would barely touch. And, the subtle movements the paramedic made whenever anyone in the station crossed the newly defined personal space barriers did not escaped Roy's attention either.
Roy missed his old partner. The way Johnny was be shutting him out, the way he treated him as just another casual acquaintance instead of a good friend truly hurt. Confused by the way his partner no longer seemed to trust him and how he seemed to be almost afraid of him, Roy felt angry about seeing his friend in so much pain and not being able to do anything. He just didn't know what to do.