Ok, fans. Here's a holiday goodie. Here it is! I've been eager to get this one up since it's been in my computer since July. See, I picture a scene with all the feelings on everyone in it, then write it out. From there I investigate how they got there and what will happen before and after. This is the one that started it.
For those of you who have been guessing, here are some answers. Again. thanks for all the feedback. I really hearing from ya'll!!
I don't know if I'll get up anymore before xmas so if not, Merry Christmas! And enjoy!!
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The atmosphere was subdued that evening in the DeSoto household. Chris told his mother all that had happened as soon as he saw her and Jo expressed her concern for the Schultz's. Roy gave her a brief account of his part and what Brackett had said then became quiet. Jo, for her part, was distracted as well by the incident she had had with Johnny earlier. All in all, it made for a quiet evening with little conversation.
The next morning was Sunday and the family rose early to attend church. Still feeling the effects of the day before, Roy suggested they eat out for dinner and Jo readily agreed. While they were changing clothes once they returned home the phone rang. Roy quickly answered it and Jo found herself listening in.
"Hello? Oh! Hey!"
From the change of tone in his voice, Jo knew it was someone Roy was comfortable with. A part of her desperately hoped it was Johnny asking what the family was up to. She started to plan what meal she'd prepare as she moved closer to Roy, intent on insisting he ask their friend over immediately.
"Yeah, just got home. Nothing much right now. Sure. Sure! I don't see why not. Ok. All right then, I'll see you in a bit. Bye." Roy finished the conversation just as Jo reentered the bedroom, hung up her dress and turned toward him. Before she could say anything, he brushed her cheek with a kiss and headed toward the door, telling her, "That was Marc. He's having trouble changing the oil on his wife's car and asked if I'd come over and help. See you tonight." Then he was gone, leaving her bemused and a little miffed.
JoAnne stood for several moments in her bedroom assimilating what had just happened and the fast departure of her husband. She was just starting to work up a good head of steam when she heard the unmistakable sounds of her children bickering. She immediately knew whatever dealing she would have over her husband's attitude would have to be put on hold until this latest domestic dispute was handled. With a sigh, she followed the noises, a little surprised to hear both voices within her daughter's room. Normally Chris avoided the "disgustingly girly pink" sanctuary of his sister. Now she could hear Jenny's voice, filled with tears as she cried. "No! He is, he is. I don't care about dumb old Daddy or even dumb old you say, he's my Uncle Johnny and he always will be my Uncle Johnny."
She paused at the doorway as she heard her son argue, "No he's not. He's no one's uncle. That was just a dumb name we called him. He's not our real uncle and he doesn't count as family."
Concerned now by the words she heard, JoAnne pushed the door open. Within, Jenny stood, tears dripping from her face, her hands clutched desperately to a ceramic frame. Chris, too, had a hold of the frame, straining to pull it from his sister's clutch. JoAnne put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her children. "Didn't the pastor just talk today about how Jesus wants us all to be with him someday?"
Obediently both children looked up and nodded.
JoAnne now crossed her arms and continued, "And didn't he also say that until that time we are to treat everyone as He would treat them?"
Again the nods. JoAnne nodded also, "Yes. And do you think the kind of behavior I just witnessed is what he meant?"
Chris ducked his head but Jenny raised her teary eyes to her mother. "Chris came in here and told me I couldn't have my picture anymore and he made up lots of lies about Uncle Johnny and. . ."
Chris flushed angrily, "They aren't lies! It's what Dad wants and Dad is the head of the family so you have to do what he says, ya big baby!" With that, he yanked harder on the frame. Jenny's grip wasn't as strong as her brother's but desperation had given the little girl extra strength. She held on for all she was worth. However, Chris's wrenching managed to knock the frame from her hands and it smashed into the wall, falling to the floor in fragments. "NOOooo!" Jenny screamed, running to the pieces.
"Christopher, your room NOW!" JoAnne commanded as she hurried across her daughter's room. Gently she took her daughter's wrists, stopping her from picking up any of the sharp remnants. "Careful honey," she soothed, "You don't want to cut yourself."
"I don't care," Jenny sobbed, "I doesn't matter now, it's all broken." Suddenly she threw herself into her mother's arms crying harder. "It's all my fault, it's all my fault. Maybe if I cut myself again and Daddy takes care of it things will go back to the way they were. I just want things to be right again." JoAnne led her daughter over and sat with her on the edge of her bed, rocking the distraught child until the sobs turned to whimpers and then shuddering breaths. Worn out, Jenny slept. Jo laid her back on the bed and covered her with a blanket. Then she got a broom and pan and began sweeping up the pieces. After she had disposed of them, she shook the photo over the basket to remove any glass slivers.
With a sad expression she looked at the photo, noting the broken glass had deeply gouged the picture. Her daughter's and Johnny's faces smiled up at Jo from where they sat on the back of Johnny's horse at his ranch. A gently smile touched her face as she remembered that day. Johnny had invited the DeSotos over for a Saturday picnic and horse riding. Jenny had treasured the day and the picture of her ride, insisting she had to have a special frame for the treasured picture. Once found, the framed photo hadn't left the little girl's dresser for the last three months. With another sigh, JoAnne laid the photo on her daughter's dresser, kissed her sleeping child's face and straightened her shoulders as she marched to her son's room.
When she opened the door, he looked up from his place on the bed, "I didn't mean to break it. I know how she looked all over for that frame. I know she spent her own money on it. I'll . . .I'll buy her a new one when Grandma gives me my birthday money." He burst out.
Jo nodded, "That would be nice, . . .IF that's what your sister wants." She moved into the room and sat on his bed. "You know, the frame didn't mean as much to her as the picture does."
"But it's of Mr. Gage and . . ." Chris began, then dropped his head, "Never mind."
Jo arched her eyebrows, "No. I want to hear why you thought Jenny shouldn't have that picture."
Chris fumbled with a baseball and shrugged, "Well, he's not really our uncle. He's not really any family. . . " Chris paused.
Jo nodded, "You're right; he's not." She agreed but held her tongue over the rest, wanting to hear what her son had to say. What's happened to this family? Roy prowls around spouting edicts like some sort of king having to check over everything personally and now this? She wondered, I thought the children nearly idolized Johnny! Why the sudden turn about?
Chris looked up, his blue eyes searching his mother's face. Not seeing any anger there, he burst out. "He was just Dad's partner and now he's not even that. Mr. Kent is. And he used to come over here all the time and was Dad's friend, now he never comes over and Mr. Kent does. Dad even took down all the pictures of Mr. Gage from the living room and the den and ever since Dad threw him out of the house when you got back from the retreat he never talks about him and so I thought . . . I figured . . ." He stopped.
Too shocked at what she'd just heard, Jo didn't say anything until her son's sad eyes, now awash in tears meet hers and he sobbed. "Momma, I . . .I really liked Johnny and . . .and I miss him. And I'm confused now because I'm not supposed ta." Jo pulled her son to her, stroking his hair as he cried. Being 'almost a man', the crying didn't last long and he pulled away but Jo kept her hands on his shoulders. "Now, Chris. You listen to me and listen well." She kept her voice soft and even as she looked straight into her son's eyes. "You can still like Johnny. I'll tell you right now, I still love him like a brother and I have no intention of changing that. Don't you worry about what your father has done. It's not your concern. And if you still want to think of him as Uncle Johnny and call him that, that's OK too. If you don't, at least call him Johnny." She smiled and ruffled his hair, "I think he'd like that better than being called 'Mr. Gage.'"
Relieved Chris gave his mother another hug. "Thanks Mom. I guess I'd better go make it up to Jen."
Jo placed a quick kiss on the top of her son's head. "I think that's a good idea but why don't you wait a bit. She's sleeping now." Chris nodded and she left the room. As soon as she was out of Chris's sight, she made a beeline for the living room, followed by the den and the family room. Sure enough, every picture which had Johnny Gage in it was gone and the other pictures moved as if to hide that any had ever been there. Even pictures that Johnny had taken of the family or the places he'd visited were gone, replaced by studio pictures.
Jo stared, with her hands on her hips, at the ugly painting now over her husband's desk in the den. "Just what is going on with you, Roy William DeSoto? You hate that painting my mother gave us and swore it would never 'grace any wall in my house as long as I live'. And to replace that lovely sunrise over the mountains Johnny took and had enlarged just for you with that . . .that monstrosity!" She looked over on the desk, now devoid of the pictures of the two men working on the old fire engine, of both grinning arm in arm beside the squad, of the whole crew near the engine. She looked closer and realized everything that Johnny had given them or had any connection with was gone.
With a start, she recalled Chris's words. He was right. Roy never talked about his partner, had even changed the subject or gave quick dismissive answers when she'd question him. Then there was that unsettling encounter she'd had with Johnny at the store. And Johnny hadn't been over since . . .since . . .goodness, had the Memorial picnic been the last time? And he'd left early, after that . . .embarrassing scene. She shuddered as she recalled the hurtful words Amy Kent had spewed out. Johnny had disappeared after that, not even saying good-bye. "Oh Johnny. Roy said you had duty the next day and that's why you left early. You didn't, did you. I wonder if you've really been as busy as Roy's been telling me. No wonder you were so cold yesterday." In despair, she sank down in the chair, suddenly clearly and painfully aware of all the little subtle things that had been going on—like the Kents repeatedly being asked over almost every break. Sure, she liked Tammy well enough, and Marc was OK but he was no Johnny Gage. She missed her friend's bouncing step, infectious grin and laugh.
Knowing what she had to do, but shaking a little at what she was afraid to find out, she dialed Becky's number. The stoic engineer might not say much but his talkative wife made up for it. Becky wasn't a gossip but given the right questions and the right ear, she'd talk a mile a minute. Twenty minutes later, Jo hung up, her eyes filled with tears. Now she knew. She knew all the things her husband had been doing to his so called best friend. Why? The question still had no answer.
Jo bowed her head as tears filled her eyes. Then anger blossomed in her heart and grew outwards. "Enough is enough!" She cried as she marched from the den. As she threw a load of clothes into the washer she continued her tirade. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Roy William but I have. had. it!" She continued her under breath fuming as she began supper, banging pots on the stove in anger.
Roy entered the house a good 8 hours after he'd left it. Hearing the sound of the TV, he tiptoed into the living room. His wife sat on the couch, a basket of folded laundry in front of her, her arms crossed across her chest, her face impassively staring at the flickering images. He crept forward and gave her cheek a kiss. "Sorry it took so long, honey." He began, his voice both sheepish and apologetic. "Time just got away from us, you know how it is. Don't worry about food, Tammy ordered us pizza while we were in the garage." He looked around, "Where're the kids?"
Still not looking at her husband, she answered, "Roy, it's a school night. And it's after 10, where do you think they are?"
"Oh."
He sat down beside her and sighed. She remained staring straight ahead, her posture stiff. "I really am sorry." He murmured.
She faced him suddenly, her anger plainly displayed on her face. "You should be! I can't believe what you've done! How could you? After all he's done for you, for this family? Of all the cruel-hearted dirty underhanded . . ."
Confused, Roy threw his hands up in front of him and interrupted. "Whoa! Whoa! Why do I get the feeling there's more going on here then my missing dinner?" She stopped her outburst, her green eyes snapping in anger. "You'd better believe it."
Roy felt his own anger simmering just below the surface, "You want to catch me up? I'm a little lost on just what happened today."
Her eyes narrowed as she gave a curt nod, "Today? I refereed a fight between our children, noticed the redecorating you did in my house without my permission and had a loooong talk with Becky Stoker."
Still confused, Roy merely nodded and muttered, "OK."
Her eyes burned into his as she added, "Now yesterday . . .yesterday I ran into Johnny Gage at the store."
Suddenly everything became as clear as crystal to Roy.
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Roy roared into the back parking lot at Station 51, accelerating as he threw the car into his slot and slammed on his brakes before he hit the wall, nearly sending himself through the windshield. He sat in his seat, breathing harshly through his nose, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. The argument he'd had with his wife the previous night had began again this morning as soon as the kids had left for school.
He'd already been cranky as for the first time in nearly thirteen years of marriage, he'd spent the night locked out of his own bedroom by his angry wife. Her parting words this morning still rang in his ears. "I love you: I always have and I probably always will. But right now, I'm so angry at you I can barely stand the sight of you. You'd better get your head out of your ass and soon, before you lose everything over this. I'm not threatening to leave you, Roy. That isn't what this is about but you are in real danger of losing the one person who loves you as much if not more than those who share your name."
She'd moved forward then and placed a quick brief kiss on his cheek. Roy had been surprised by her action and the tears he saw glistening in her eyes. "I promised myself when you became a fireman that I'd never let you leave this house without a kiss and even this won't change that promise. However, you need to remember this; none of us are promised tomorrow, your job should have taught you that already. None of us." She stressed the words and he knew exactly what she meant. She finished with, "You'd better think long and hard over what is really important in your life."
"You ok there, pal?" Cap's voice at his open window startled Roy back into the here & now.
He looked up and sighed, "yeah, um. Just had a, um, sorta rough morning."
Cap nodded, being married himself, he understood. "Well, just checking. The way you roared in here, I thought at first it was Gage. Imagine my surprise to come out and see you!" He tried to inject humor.
At the sound of the object of the last 8 hours of hell he'd gone through, Roy's face darkened and his jaw clinched. Seeing the reaction, it was Cap's turn to sigh. 'Lovely. He's still angry with John. I'd thought they were beginning to make headway in that department.' He moved backward quickly as Roy suddenly pushed open the door, muttering, "I need to get changed."
Cap watched him go, shaking his head in sorrow, "It's gonna be a looong shift. For all of us."
Roy stomped his way into locker room. Mike, seeing his face, quickly moved out of his way even though the senior medic didn't notice. He growled at Marc's cheerful greeting and yanked up his locker door.
He changed his clothes, ignoring the buttons which popped off his civilian shirt as he ripped it from his body. He slammed the door shut, hitting it again as the force made it rebound. He stomped his way toward the kitchen. Johnny had just moved toward the kitchen himself from the dorm and Roy pushed angrily against him. "Move your ass, Gage." He growled.
Johnny flinched away from him, moving hastily away and staying there until Roy had entered the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot from Marco's hand. Johnny watched silently and big eyed as the older man poured himself a cup, and drank the liquid, clearly burning his mouth on the hot brew. "Way to go, Gage." Marc sneered at him as he too pushed past the younger paramedic. "I don't know what you've done to my partner now but you've really got him royally pissed off. Thanks for a miserable shift."
'That hurt!' Roy pressed his scorched tongue up to the roof of his mouth. His blue eyes suddenly locked on the hesitant figure in the doorway and he froze. Anger flashed through him then was instantly halted as Jo's parting words came to mind again. Johnny was pale, his eyes wide as he stared back. Roy realized, with chagrin, the younger man looked genuinely afraid of him and he recalled the slighter body flinching away from him.
Suddenly the terrifying images of the dreams again overlaid the living image before him. Jo was right; in his job he had learned things happened quickly and someone alive and well one moment could be dead the next. Again, the feelings of anger over his partner's perceived inability to protect Roy's precious daughter fought with his own guilt over the dreams he'd been suffering. Stubbornly he pushed them back. He wasn't ready to give up his current course, giving up meant he was wrong. No. That wasn't right, he wasn't too vain to admit he was wrong, he mentally corrected. No, giving up meant he had no control and to Roy that was by far worse.
The shift progressed through the morning with all the men, even Marc, walking on eggshells. Roy was back to his controlling attitude, not letting Johnny handle anything more than carrying equipment. Fortunately, they had only two minor calls, and neither required transport to Rampart. At roll call, Cap had assigned Johnny to help clean and hang hose with Mike. The younger paramedic had spent most of the morning in the back doing just that. Mike had tried to engage him in small talk but the paramedic remained silent. Lunchtime found the other six at the table with no sign of Gage.
Cap had found him sitting, head down, forlornly in his locker when he went looking. "Gage? Chow's on."
"Not hungry," came the soft expected answer.
Cap sighed. "You need to eat, John. You . . ."
"Owe it to the citizens of LA not to fall flat on my face during a rescue. I know. I already heard that lecture." Johnny's flat voice came. Cap winced as he recognized the words Roy had thrown at the junior paramedic at the picnic. His own voice soft, Cap continued, "No Johnny. I was going to say you need to eat to keep up your strength for your own health. We, all of us, are worried about you."
At hearing his captain call him by his nickname, Johnny had raised his head but now he shook it sadly. "Not all of you." He whispered. Cap sighed and dropped a hand on his hurting paramedic's thin shoulder.
"When you're ready, John."
Johnny nodded, his head dropping once more. "Maybe later, Cap, after . . ."
The sound of the tones dropping broke into his words and both instantly moved toward the bay.
"Station 51. Man down. 16989 South Garrison. 1-6-9-8-9 South Garrison. Cross street Whelming. Time out 13:35."
Before long, the squad and the engine pulled out of the station and roared off. On the scene, their 'man down' turned out to be a man who twisted his ankle while stepping off the curb. He grinned sheepishly at the firemen headed toward him. "Sorry guys. I asked my wife to call my brother. I didn't know she'd called you until I saw you pull up."
His clearly upset wife hovered nearby. "I had to, Matt! You could have a broken leg or or fallen and broken your neck!" Roy knelt beside the man. Johnny placed the needed boxes within his reach, then much to Cap's dislike, backed off. The wife pushed closer, questioning the senior paramedic's every move as he took the man's vitals while Marc called the hospital. Finally Roy looked up, his eyes glaring as he focused on his hesitant partner. "Make yourself useful." He barked.
Johnny flinched but knew what his partner meant. He placed his hands on the woman's shoulder's, giving her a charming smile when she turned toward him. "Ma'am? He's gonna be just fine. Why don't you come over here for a few moments and give me some information on what happened."
He kept the wife occupied until Roy announced they were ready to transport. "Meet us at Rampart." Roy ordered as he followed the gurney into the back of the ambulance. He yanked the biophone out of Johnny's hand and glared at the dark haired man. His eyes shifted to Kent and he gave a faint smile, "Marc, you ride with Gage. I'll see you in a few."
With a heavy sigh, Johnny closed the doors, secured them and gave two half-hearted slaps to the frame, letting the driver know all was closed up.
Johnny watched the ambulance holding his partner and the victim leave, an unreadable expression on his face. The awareness of a presence near him grounded him back to the here and now and he looked up and nodded toward Cap. "I'm going to Rampart." He knew his words were unnecessary but he had to say something before Cap did. Now it was Cap's turn to nod but for good measure he gave his youngest crewmember a supportive slap on the shoulder as he walked by.
Johnny walked toward the squad calling to Kent as he went. "Come on, we need to get to Rampart." Kent nodded, picked up the last bit of equipment. He shoved it into its bay and shut the door as Johnny removed his turnout coat and placed it in its bay. He took off his helmet, tossing it on the seat as he heaved a great sigh.
Kent had stored his coat and was climbing in as he watched Johnny freeze, a puzzled expression on his face as his nostrils flared. Kent sniffed the air but couldn't tell anything different in the smoggy L.A. air. Johnny, however, now had his head slightly raised as he continued to sniff. He turned slowly around, faced the buildings across the street, and slowly walked toward them.
Kent sighed at what he saw as the other man's weird behavior. "Come on Gage, stop messing around. Roy's gonna be waiting on us." He called but Johnny only raised a hand in a 'wait' motion as he tried the door of the store directly in front of him. Kent watched as Johnny's back went rigid and he whirled around, his face now a mask of professionalism. He ran back toward the squad, ignoring Kent's questions as he grabbed up the mic.
"LA Squad 51 still on scene. We have detected a strong odor of gas at this location. Be advised, Engine 51 is also still on scene." He didn't wait for the acknowledgment before he told the stunned trainee. "Move the squad. Now!" Then he was gone, turned back toward the building even as he hurried toward the engine. "Cap!"
Even as he called for his captain, Johnny saw a man walking up to the same door he'd just checked and, reversing his direction, called to him while moving toward him, "Hey, hey you!"
The man turned and saw a firefighter hurrying toward him. He stiffened as the younger man grabbed his elbow and led him quickly toward the blocked intersection where another firefighter, this one in full turnouts and wearing a black helmet with a white stripe down it, quickly approached them. "What . . .what are you doing? What is the meaning of this?" The portly man sputtered as his short legs tried to keep up with the black haired man who suddenly ceased dragging him. He shook his arm loose and shrugged his shoulders to resettle his suit coat, puffing slightly as he tried to settle his breathing as well.
"That your business there?" His accoster's dark eyes were intensive as they watched him.
"Why, y . . .yes. Yes it is. Why? What's happened? Why . . ." He started but the Johnny cut him off. "Is there anyone in there now?" By now Cap had reached them, his face also showing bewilderment as the HT in his pocket began sounding responses.
"John, what . . ."
"Cap, I smelled gas. It's really strong and it's coming from that building. I've already notified Dispatch." Johnny turned from the look of surprise on his captain's face and asked the man again. "Is there anyone in there?"
The man trembled as he realized what the young man meant but managed to shake his head while he searched for his voice. Johnny looked at the windows above the shop. "What about up there? Are those apartments? Is anyone up there?" Cap swore under his breath as he heard the location and number of units LA now called to their location.
"N . . .no." The man managed to stutter out. "No. No one there. They're being renovated. Oh God. If you hadn't stopped me . .." Johnny ignored him as he turned back to his Captain. "Kent's still in the squad; I told him to move it away.." He ran off as Cap took the pale man's arm saying, "Sir? Why don't you come over here with me."
He pulled the man toward the engine where the rest of the crew had heard the calls and stood waiting for orders.
Johnny ran back toward the squad shouting as he did, "Kent! Get out of there!"
Confused the trainee fumbled for the key in the ignition, looking up as Johnny's voice reached him. The older paramedic was shaking his head and motioning as he ran, "No time! Leave it! Get out of there now! Leave it!"
A popping sound caught Johnny's attention when he was a mere five feet from the squad and he turned back toward the building just as all hell cut loose. A fireball burst from the building front, shattering the large window, blowing off the door and even removing some of the facing. Johnny, standing in the middle of the street had no protection and no time. He tried to throw his arms up to cover his face and head while twisting his body away but the force caught him. He felt the power of the explosion pick him up, like a leaf in a headwind, and hurtle him hard into something metal. Pinging sounds echoed around him as the breath was driven from his body. A wave of intense heat blew over him then there was nothing.
Kent saw the fireball erupting from the building front, saw it hit the other paramedic, lifting him up just as things began hitting the squad. Instinctively he ducked, covering his head with his arms as something hit the squad hard enough to rock it on its wheels. Heat flowed like water over him then was gone. He lifted his head and looked out the driver's window. The building was now in flames as black smoke quickly filled the sky. He took a deep breath then blew it out. He noticed Johnny by the window, his face turned away from him, facing the devastation. "Wow. Some ride huh Gage?"
No answer came and he thought the other man now looked lower as he leaned with his back on the squad. Marc frowned, confused. "Gage? You alright?" He got out of the squad and started around the front.
Cap turned away from the fireball bursting out of the building, shielding the civilian as he did. From under the protection of his arm, he saw his junior paramedic attempt to protect himself as the fireball caught him. He watched in horror as the force picked up the slender man and slammed him into the driver's door of the squad. Immediately he stood. "John! Marco, Chet, get a line on that fire. Mike, charge the hose then come with me!" He ordered as he ran toward where Johnny was now slowly sliding down the side of the squad. He reached his fallen man just as Kent did.
At first there seemed to be no damage, Johnny's arms had dropped limply back to his sides and he was conscious, his mouth moving as if he tried to speak. His eyes were open but his gaze had a vacant look. Then they realized Johnny wasn't trying to talk; he was trying to breathe, trying to pull air into his battered chest. Finally he managed a gasp and it was quickly expelled in a groan.
"John?"
"Gage?"
Cap and Kent spoke at the same time. Slowly Johnny turned his head toward them. As his worried shiftmates watched, tiny specks of red appeared on his face, neck, chest and arms as if he'd been suddenly splattered with paint. Then those spots began to grow, spreading across his clothes and skin until they ran in red lines from his body. The pain hit him at the same time and he groaned, "Oh God!" as he stiffened.
Cap and Mike reached for him at the same time, controlling his descent as they gently placed him on the ground. "I'll get the equipment." Mike muttered as he left. Cap knelt beside his injured man, his hand reaching instinctively for a pulse even though he could see Johnny was still conscious. It beat fast beneath his fingers. The sound of more sirens pulled him away from the scene at his feet and he knew as the first on-scene it was his job to delegate the fire. He looked up, spotting Kent where he leaned against the hood of the squad, his face pale and his eyes wide.
"Kent!"
No response. Louder and with more command, Cap called out again.
"Kent! Pull yourself together man! He needs a paramedic!" Kent shook his head as if waking up. Mike dropped the trauma box, drug box and biophone beside Johnny and laid a gentle hand on the top of his shiftmate's head, the only place not streaming blood. "Johnny . . ."
Dark brown eyes looked up at him and Johnny gave him a faint grin. "I'll be fine, Mike, Cap. You . . .you've got . . the fire . . ." Cap nodded as he stood. "I'll be back to check on you, John." Hesitantly, the two left as Kent knelt in their place.
As Cap turned his back on his paramedic, he withdrew his HT. "LA, Engine 51. We have had an explosion at our location. Respond a third alarm. Be advised we also have a code-I. Respond another squad and an ambulance." Before he got his answer, he began directing the second engine that had just rolled up.
Kent looked the wounded paramedic over and shook his head. Blood. Blood everywhere. He'd never seen so much blood. The sight. The smell of it! He gagged and turned his head.
"Kent." A sharp voice caught his attention and he looked back. Johnny looked up at him, his mouth a firm line, his gaze intense. "Pay attention . . . trainee. You've got …a job to do."
Kent looked at his second mentor, tears in his eyes. "I . . .I don't know where to start?" He faintly spoke.
"Assess, ABC's . . . like always. Pressure bandages on worse . . .wounds. Then vitals." Johnny said. Kent's hand trembled violently as he fumbled in the trauma box. "Which . . .which wounds?" Johnny took a deep breath and tried to make his voice calm. "Whatever's bleeding the worse." Kent applied several bandages on his arms and one on his left cheek. Johnny could feel blood running across his chest and down his legs and told Kent. "Marc. Look on my chest . . .and legs too." Kent gave him a nod and began to open his shirt. Johnny tried a smile as he lifted a hand. He grasped his trainee's wrist and the other man froze, his eyes glued to the bloody hand holding him. "Marc. Don't worry . . .'bout saving shirt. That's what we . . .get uniform . . .allowance for."
Kent nodded back at him, a little bit steadier, and taking the material in his hands he grasped the shirt tight and tore. Buttons popped off and the motion caused white hot fire to flare through Johnny's body. His eyes widened as he gasped, his body rigid in pain. Instantly what little confidence Johnny had been able to instill in Kent evaporated. He pulled back from the injured man, shaking.
Johnny struggled through the waves of pain, knowing his only chance was to continue to talk the frightened man through his own treatment. "Marc. Vitals. Call . . . Rampart. Need permission . . .for IV."
Kent nodded, reassured by the fairly normal task. He took the wounded man's vitals, calling them off as he did. Then he grabbed the biophone and set it up. This, this he could do. This he was familiar with. Confidence returned as he began. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. Do you read me?"
Dr. Brackett had just passed the base station, heading for a sit down and a coffee when the light over the door went off. He grinned at Dix. "It never fails. I guess I'm just not meant to drink any coffee today." Dixie chuckled as she readied a chart while Brackett pushed the intercom.
"Rampart here, what have you got 51."
Kent smiled; he liked Dr. Brackett. Dr. Brackett is the head of the ER and the Head of the paramedics. He'll tell me what to do.
"Rampart we have a firefighter, male, age . . . " He looked at Johnny who answered, "25"
"Age 25," Mark continued, "Victim of an explosion. He has multiple lacerations covering his face, arms, neck, chest, ummm, pretty much his whole body. Ummmmm."
Brackett frowned at Dix who gave a slight shrug. "Marc Kent. He's 51s trainee." Over the line, they could hear Johnny tell Kent. "Vitals . . give them vitals." a pause then, "Check ears . . .can't hear right." Then Kent's voice broke in. "Rampart, vitals are pulse 118, BP 128 over 78 respirations 28 and shallow. Ummm, I think he's hurting."
Brackett closed his eyes and counted to ten—quickly. Ok, for whatever reason Johnny was having the trainee handle this call. Well, he had to learn somehow. He jabbed the button so hard his thumb popped. He ignored it as he growled, "51 does the patient have any other injuries?"
"I don't know." Came Kent's answer.
Johnny sighed. Boy this guy is so close to losing it. The ringing in his ears was getting worse and his vision seemed to blur. "Marc." He put all the force he could into that call. Marc turned toward him, the receiver limp in his hands. "I hit . . .squad. P . .poss-ible con-concussion. My back . . .my back hurts too." Kent nodded and held up the receiver. "Patient is complaining of pain in his back and states he hit a vehicle from the force of the explosion." Suddenly he remembered how Johnny had been gasping for air when they first found him. "Also Rampart. When we first found him, he was gasping but not getting any air moving."
Brackett looked at Dr. Early who had just joined him. He nodded, "Concussion injuries. It fits with being caught in an explosion. The lacerations are probably debris."
Just as Brackett moved to hit the button again he heard Johnny say, "Tell them. You've pressure ban. . . bandages on worse. There is debris. Don't try removing . . .just secure." Both doctors nodded. Then Brackett realized that Johnny's voice had sounded funny. Breathy, as if he was under a strain. They heard Kent relay what Johnny had just told them.
Brackett sighed. This is ridiculous. It's a good thing Johnny is there or I'd be very concerned about this patient. As it is, he could be going into shock. He frowned again as he pushed the button. "51 I still need pupilary responses and I want an update on his BP."
Kent dropped the receiver as he reached for his flashlight. Johnny bit back a groan at the pain the momentary light caused. Yeap, concussion. His vision blurred more and a cold feeling swept through his body. He'd been injured enough to know what that meant and grabbed again for Kent.
Marc had just finished relaying the pupil responses and said, "BP now 110 over 76" then jumped as Johnny's bloody hand grasped around his side then latched onto his coat. He looked at the paramedic at his feet and saw his eyes were wide and his breathing had increased as his mouth moved silently, then he gasped. "M . . Marc. IV . . .IV… Shock.. . . gonna . . .gonna pass . . . " Shivers shook the paramedic and as hard as he tried to remain conscious to help with his own treatment, he couldn't do it. Slowly his vision blackened, his eyes slid shut and his hand fell limply back to the pavement. Still slightly aware, he faintly heard Kent screaming at him, heard Brackett demanding information, and felt hands on his arms. As he felt someone begin shaking him, the resulting pain pushed him over and all awareness ended.
A loud voice, clearly panicked, caught Mike's attention.
"No! Don't pass out! You can't pass out! Wake up! You hear me; wake up damn you! You have to tell me what to do! What do I do? Damnit tell me what to do!"
He looked in the direction of the screaming and his lips thinned in displeasure at what he saw. He reached over and nudged Cap. "Cap! Kent's losing it!"
Cap looked first at his engineer then over toward the squad as the voice caught his attention. His eyes widened then narrowed as he saw the trainee lift his injured paramedic off the ground and fiercely shake him. The limpness of Johnny's body told Cap he was either unconscious – or worse. Swearing under his breath, he stomped over toward the confrontation. In his peripheral vision, he saw 110's squad pull to a rapid stop.
Kirk elbowed Tom, who was driving, as they pulled up and pointed out the window. "Is that 51's Trainee? What the hell's he think he's doing!" They both could see the new man held the victim up by his shoulders and was shaking him. The victim was obviously unconscious, his head hanging back and lolling with the shaking, mouth partly open. "Sweet Jesus," Tom Wheeler cussed as he threw the door open. "Where the hell's DeSoto and Gage?" Kirk didn't reply as both men raced toward the scene.
They arrived at the confrontation at the same time as 51's captain, who, by the look on his face, was very near to violence. "Kent! Stop!" He grabbed the trainee's hands and carefully removed the paramedic from him, easing the injured man gently back to the pavement before shoving the trainee back. He looked at the two quickly approaching paramedics with blazing eyes, "You two, take care of John. You!" he turned his gaze back on Kent, " Get back unless they need you."
Puzzled by the command but with training taking over, both paramedics dropped to their knees and began a rapid assessment. Instantly 51's captain's words made sense as they recognized the victim. Tom swore again and Kirk just sighed, "Oh, Johnny-boy."
"What happened?" Kirk bit out, checking the bloody bandages and slapping more on top of the seeping ones as his partner began taking vitals. A quick flick of his scissors removed Johnny's t-shirt and he slapped more bandages on the seeping wounds there.
Cap knelt next to them, "John got caught about 10 feet from the gas explosion that started that." He nodded toward the still blazing building. "He smelled it, called it in and was running back to get Kent out of the squad when it blew. The force threw him into the side of the squad. He was conscious until just a moment ago." Cap made a short summery.
Squawking from the biophone sounded again and they all heard Brackett's voice yelling, "51! What is happening? Put Gage on the line! 51, turn the line over to Paramedic Gage now! 51 answer, do you copy?"
"Keep your britches on, Doc, we're a little busy right now trying to save 'Paramedic Gage'." Kirk's soft southern drawl muttered as he examined his friend. "Tom, his hands still have pieces in them, pretty deeply penetrated. His right one is pretty bad, I'd guess tendon damage by the look. I'm stabilizing them and covering them now."
Both paramedics were aware of Cap's nodding, "He threw his hands up over his head, trying to protect himself."
Tom finished recording the vitals and moved to Johnny's face and head, searching the area as he placed a c- collar on his fellow paramedic. "Yeap, lump on the back. Pupils are dilated and a little slow. Ahhh, shhhiiit." Kirk looked up as Tom frowned. "He's bleeding from the right ear."
"H. . .he," a weak voice began, stopped then came back stronger, "He said he was having trouble hearing. Right before he . . ." Kent stopped, dropping his head back down. He knew he had failed Gage and in doing so had failed Roy. That hurt him worse.
Kirk sighed, "Well, could be an eardrum . . .?"
Tom gave a curt nod, "Breathings getting a little ragged." He grabbed up a BVM and motioned to Kent. "You! I'm sure you know how to work one of these. Do it!" he watched a few moments as Kent forced air into Johnny's lungs, assisting the wounded man's labored breathing, then continued with his treatment. Kirk reached for the biophone just as Brackett's angry voice came across again, "Rampart will be able to tell if it's an eardrum later, Tom. Better get permission for an IV. He's losing a lot of blood." He pulled the IV set-up, knowing the order would be given.
Back at Rampart the two doctors exchanged worried looks at the strange noises coming over the line. Brackett hit the switch again and demanded. "Put Gage on the line. 51, turn the line over to Paramedic Gage now!"
Silence.
Then, "Rampart this is Rescue 110. We are taking over 51's patient. Victim is now unconscious. The bleeding is mostly under control with heavy bleeding still coming from victim's right hand and left lower quadrant of the abdomen. Glass is visible in wound site. We have immobilized it. Spine and neck precautions have been initiated. Pulse is now 120, BP 96/ 68. Pupils are dilated, slow and unequal but reactive. There is blood in the right ear. There is a large knot on the basal area of the skull but no depression. Respirations are 26, and labored. We are assisting with O2 on BVM 11 lpm. Skin is pale, cool and clammy. The chest area is beginning to show marked contusions. Also victim is showing burns on his arms, face and neck. Sterile dressings and saline have been applied as able. Request permission to start IV." Kirk Mueller's thick southern accent came cleanly across the line and Early and Dix released the breath they didn't know they had been holding.
"Request granted 110, start IVs bilaterally, large bore, wide open, ringers lactate and get him in here. I want vitals every five minutes while you transport." Brackett bellowed.
"IV both arms. Ringers lactate, Large bore and wide open. Ambulance is on scene. ETA 10 minutes, Rampart."
Silence again.
"Dix,"
"I've already got treatment 3 set up." She replied before he could ask. He smiled, "Good girl"
She cocked her head coyly and shrugged, "Well, I try." Then she frowned and voiced the thought they all had had. "Wonder what happened to Johnny? Why didn't he take over care? We all heard him . . .there . . ." Her eyes widened as she looked at the others and saw by their faces they shared the thought. Suddenly the speaker squawked again.
"Rampart, 110." This time it was Wheeler's voice and they could hear the ambulance siren in the background.
"Go ahead, 110."
"Rampart, negative on one IV. Victims arms are so cut up and burned we could only get one started. BP is holding at 100/68."
Brackett sighed, "Piggy back a saline on the line started, 110."
"10-4 Rampart."
Brackett's mouth twitched and he frowned then hit the button again. "110 when you came on scene. Where was Paramedic Gage?" He knew it wasn't protocol but he had to ask. I need to know,--to order his blood type. He tried to justify his question. In the ambulance, Tom and Kirk shared a look over the top of their critically injured co-worker. Then Kirk depressed the receiver. "Uhhh, Rampart. 51s victim, our victim is John Gage."
With a heavy heart Brackett acknowledged, "10-4 110."
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