Roy felt the warmth of the sun on his face about the same time he heard the delighted sounds of his children playing. He smiled to himself, relaxing in the comfortable glow of the sounds of normalcy in his house. 'Ah what a wonderful way to wake up, the smell of Jo cooking breakfast, Jenny singing, Chris playing basketball in the drive. That sun feels great; bet its gonna be another warm day. I really should work on that back fence before it gets too hot this summer. Jo said the neighbor's dog has been coming into our yard and digging up her garden. I got all the supplies in the shed, I wonder what Johnny's doing. I think I'll give him a call; see if he'd be willing to come over and help out.'

But with that thought, Roy went from half-asleep to fully awake—and sadly, fully aware of all that had transpired over the last three weeks. Again a deep sadness coupled with guilt filled him. Roy opened his eyes and sighed heavily as he sat up. He couldn't ask his friend over to help with chores around the house like he had for the last three years. His friend was lying in a hospital bed, possibly injured for life and he—Roy—was partly responsible. 'Besides, I doubt he even would consider me a friend after the way I've treated him for these last weeks. And I can't blame him.'

With that depressing thought, Roy got up, dressed and went downstairs to face his day. His wife looked up as he entered the kitchen and gave a tentative smile. Although yesterday her husband had at least seemed more like the 'old Roy' rather than the often cruel dictator who'd worn his face for the last three weeks, Jo had noticed he remained quiet—almost subdued. To say that these odd personality shifts had worried her was an understatement so she resolved to watch and wait, giving him all she could when she could. She sighed for the hundredth time over the last week as she thought, 'I wish we could get ahold of Johnny. I know he could help Roy get through whatever it is he's going through.'

She looked toward the phone, tempted to dial that number again, just to see if he'd finally answer. The temptation immediately left when shrill voices arose from behind her.

"Moooommmmmmy, I'm huuungreeeey," Jenny sing-songed as she skipped around the kitchen. Chris dashed in, his face still red from his playing. "Mom! Breakfast ready yet? Mr. Koffman will be here any time!"

Jo placed a cup of coffee before her husband as she answered, "Yes, breakfast is ready. Both of you go wash your hands then sit down."

Chris made a face, "But Mom!" He protested, "Jason said . . ."

"Mr. Koffman will be picking you up at 9:30, Chris. It's only 8 right now. There's plenty of time as long as you get your hands washed and stop arguing." Jo admonished her son. Chris quickly ran off.

Roy looked at his wife, confusion on his face, "Where's Chris going?"

Jo finished transferring the scrambled eggs as she answered, "Chris and Jason are going to be spending the day together. Joe Koffman is picking Chris up then taking both the boys with him to that new sports store that just opened. Then tomorrow, on Friday, all the boys from the troop are getting together to make sure they have everything ready for camp. They'll all spend the night together at the church before they leave for the camp on Saturday." She looked askew at her husband. "Remember? You knew all of this, I heard you discuss it with Bob Schultz just a few days ago."

Roy gave a faint nod as his wife's explanation sounded somewhat familiar. A small part of him couldn't help but be grateful he wouldn't be facing Bob Schultz himself. Seeing the man and hearing his gratitude again only made Roy feel all that more guilty over the words he'd said to Johnny. 'Bob showers me with praise for doing the same thing for Andy that Johnny did for Jenny.' he thought gloomily. "and how do I repay my partner? I use him as my personal whipping boy for the next three weeks.'

He watched as his wife placed breakfast before each of them before sitting down herself. He picked half-heartedly at his food, trying to eat enough not to arose his wife's suspicions, unaware she'd been watching him closely even while eating her own meal and monitoring the children's.

"Roy. Roy!" His wife's voice finally shook him out of his deep thoughts and he raised his head to face her. "Yes?"

She nodded toward his cup, the coffee pot in her hand. "I asked if you want more coffee."

He looked at his half emptied cup and nodded, keeping his eyes on the dark stream as she refilled the cup. Unbidden the thought came that the color of the pouring coffee was the same shade as his partner's eyes. He blinked, stopping those thoughts even as they came. He heard his wife's heavy sigh before her voice came again. "Roy, you want to tell me what's going on?"

Roy stabbed at his remaining eggs as he hissed, "Jo, not in front of . . ."

"In front of who, Roy." She interrupted him.

He looked up at the aggravated tone in her voice and noticed they were alone at the table. He glanced at the empty and cleaned places in confusion. Hadn't they both just been there? Jenny singing a song between bites of her toast? Chris apologizing to his mother for stuffing his mouth too full?

He looked up into his wife's face and saw the concern in her eyes. She placed the coffee pot back on the cabinet and sat next to him, her hand placed lightly on his arm. "Roy," she began, her voice gentle. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

He looked into the green eyes of the woman he loved and felt his heart constrict. 'God, I love her. And I need her. Maybe, maybe I should tell her. Maybe she can help me make sense of all this.' He opened his mouth to speak just as the phone rang. She patted him on the arm and smiled as she rose, "Hold that thought," she told him as she reached for the receiver.

"Hello. Oh, hello Marc. Yes, he's right here." For just a second, Roy felt like telling his wife to hang up but then he stopped himself. She held the phone out toward him as she said unnecessarily, "Roy, it's Marc Kent."

Roy took the phone and placed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Roy Buddy! Are you busy?" came the voice on the other side.

"Uh, no. Not right now. Just finishing up breakfast."

"OK. Listen, buddy, I need a big favor. My truck's been running a little rough and I decided to change the sparkplugs and oil and well," he gave a chuckle, "I guess I got in a little over my head. Do you think you could come over and give me a hand out?"

Roy took a deep breath, once more he felt divided. Part of him wanted to refuse but the other part didn't want the conversation with his wife to continue. He knew that if he stayed, it certainly would so he heard himself saying, "Sure, just let me get on some old clothes and get my tools together and I'll be over."

"Thanks, Buddy," Kent's voice sounded relieved. "You probably just saved me a very expensive trip to the mechanics. I knew I could count on you. See you when you get here." And he hung up.

Roy replaced the receiver then glanced at his wife where she sat at the table sipping her coffee. "That was Marc."

"I know."

"He . . .uh . . . wants me to come over and help him."

"I gathered that," she said as she nodded. Roy sat back down and took up his cup. He stared into the dark liquid before he said, "He's . . . uh . . . trying to change the oil and plugs and thinks he's over his head." He shrugged slightly and gave a nervous laugh as he added, "He certainly isn't very mechanically inclined."

"And he seems to get in over his head an awful lot." Jo muttered.

Roy blinked at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Jo made a scoffing noise. "Oh come on Roy; think. In the last two weeks, you've changed the brakes on both Tammy's car and his truck, you've changed out the battery in both vehicles and you changed the oil on Tammy's car just last break. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's using you AS his mechanic and not giving you a thing in return."

"John and I do that all the time and you never said anything about it," The words just tumbled out of Roy's mouth and he colored briefly at them. 'Why is it when I'm trying so hard not to think about him, all I do is think about him?' he groaned inwardly.

Roy didn't reply any further to his wife's complaint, found he couldn't say anything as the same suspicion had crossed his mind. Jo drank from her cup then sat it on the table with a sigh, "Marc's certainly not anything like Johnny is."

'The same thing Mike said,' came that aggravating voice in his head again. Roy's blood ran cold as he stammered out, "Wha . . .what do you mean by that?"

JoAnne gave a one shoulder shrug, "Just an observation. When Johnny comes over to help you around here, it's just that. He helps you. You don't expect him to do it all like Marc seems to expect you to when he asks for your 'help'." She waved her hand around her as she continued, "Johnny's helped you paint the house, redo the gutters, work on both cars and repaired just about every piece of wood around here and he does it all cheerfully and without asking a thing in return." She paused, her head tilted in thought then she laughed as she added, "Ok, maybe he does eat his weight in groceries when he's over here, but he never asks to stay, you or I always insist he stays and eats."

His wife's words added leaded weights to the knot of guilt already in his belly over his recent treatment of his friend. He finished his coffee and muttered, "I'd better go change," as he stood and left the kitchen. Jo continued drinking her coffee as she watched her husband head toward their bedroom. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, 'We miss you Johnny," she thought. 'What happened anyway?'

Soon Roy was pulling up into the Kent's driveway and spotted Marc's truck already set up in the garage. Marc was standing near it and came over to Roy as he got out of the car. "Hey! There you are! I was beginning to get worried you'd backed out on me."

Roy frowned and glanced at his watch as he walked to the opposite side of his car to remove his tools. "It's only been a hour since you called, Marc." Roy said curtly. Marc blinked at his tone and muttered, "Oh. Well. I guess it just seemed longer. On this side, you know."

Roy nodded as he walked toward the truck. "Show me what you got."

Marc willingly ran around the front as he pointed to the selection of new parts laid neatly by the roll-around. "Well there's the plugs and new distributor cap and the new oil filter and oil."

Roy could plainly see that and glared over at Marc, unable to keep the aggravation off his face. "I can see that and I know what car parts look like, Kent. I wanted to know what you've already tried to do."

Marc frowned as he took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. He gave a high pitched chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck. "I . . . I kinda . . .uh. I mean . . ."

Roy just nodded, now knowing that Kent hadn't done anything but call him. He put the tools down, laid his body down on the roll-around and angled himself under the car as he told the other man, "Get me a pan or something for the used oil."

Kent did as told and Roy positioned it under the oil pan, removed the oil pan then removed the plug. He watched as the dark liquid began to drain into the pan then carefully backed out. Once out, he stood, pulled the wires off the plugs, grabbed a ratchet, attached the proper socket and began removing the plugs, inspecting each as he laid it aside.

Kent watched him, silent for several moments then began talking. Roy sighed to himself, finding the other man's chatter grating on his already abused nerves. Again that voice started in his head, 'Johnny chatters all the time and it doesn't bother you like this' Roy acknowledge that as he thought, 'Yeah, but when John chatters while we are working on something, it's . . .it's different . . . somehow' He allowed himself to dwell on that a moment and realized suddenly how it was different. 'It's different because we're friends . . . and we're having fun just being together. God. I've missed that.'

Roy was pulled back to the present as he heard his partner's name being said. Roy looked up at Marc, "What?"

Marc looked up and gave him a puzzled look. "I said, I heard Gage is pretty handy around cars and things."

Roy turned his attention to the distributor cap which he'd just removed, "Yeah. Yeah he is. You've got a lot of scoring under here, Marc. We might want to take a look at adjusting your timing."

Kent grinned, "Hey! Good! If you can fix that, that should change it's fuel consumption right?"

Roy shrugged, "well, it might change your miles per gallon."

Kent nodded and continued. "I heard Gage rebuilt the engine on his truck a couple of times." He watched as Roy nodded in agreement. "Well, that's good he has something to fall back on then."

Roy glanced up quickly, confusion plain on his face. Kent grinned big at him, "You know. Like another job skill." At Roy's continued stare, he elaborated, "You know. As a mechanic. Garages are always looking for good workers and I have to give the kid that, he's a hard worker. And fixing cars won't require as much manual dexterity as some things on our job does. So if he ends up with his hand crippled he'll have another skill he can use."

Kent didn't seem to notice how stiff Roy had gotten as while he casually leaned across the hood. He continued blithely on. "Manual labor suits him better anyway. Those people are good at stuff like that, as long as they stay away from the drink. But then I haven't seen much evidence of Gage being a drinker."

He looked at Roy, "You've been around him a lot longer, is Gage a drinker?"

Roy felt numb as he heard himself answer, "No. Not really. He'll have a few beers but that's all."

Kent nodded, "Ah. That's good. Tammy was worried about that. I guess she saw him drinking at the picnic." Roy thought back to the picnic, recalled only seeing his partner with one beer in the short time he'd actually been there. The insinuation that John had a drinking problem just because he was Indian set Roy's teeth and he clenched his jaw in reaction.

In an effort to change the direction of the conversation he told Kent, "These plugs don't look that bad. I think they just need adjusted. Hand me that gap gauge. No, the round thing, yeah, that."

Kent handed him the required item and waved his hand over the other plugs. "What'll I do with these?"

'I have a suggestion on what you can do with them,' Roy unkindly thought but answered instead with a shrug and, "If you saved the receipt take them back. If not, put them away to use later." That said, he busied himself with the car, ignoring much of what Kent was saying until once more the words penetrated his awareness.

"What did you say about Dr. Brackett?" Roy's voice came out from under the hood as he paused to hear the response.

Kent leaned in closer, the aggravation plain in his voice as he repeated, "I said he called me yesterday and had me come in for a meeting."

Curious now, Roy pulled his head out and looked at the other man, "Oh? What about?"

Kent grimaced, "The Department must have said something to the hospital about this . . . this mess over Gage's injuries. Can you believe it? Brackett called me into his office and told me I have to take another test before he'll clear me to work anymore. He called it an "Equivalency Exam" and claimed it would tell him if the stuff I passed in the exam in San Diego was in line with the stuff taught here. He made some excuse about it being the first time they'd ever had someone trying to transfer in from another department's curriculum. He said he needed to verify that both efficiency requirements were the same. He apologized, saying it should have been done before I was stationed with you and 'claims' it was just a mistake in the fire department that the hospital wasn't notified at the same time. Is that a load or what!? Both you and I know that guys transfer in and out of the department from all over California with no hassle."

Roy frowned, "Well, that's true, Marc, but not as paramedics, just as firefighters."

Kent's snort cut him short, "Oh come off it. That's a load of BS and you know it. I see it for what it really is. Gage, their little golden child minority, screwed up big time and got himself hurt and now they're trying to cover their asses by using me as a scapegoat. But we know the truth, don't we buddy? Their little reservation poster boy is going down and it's not my fault. I refuse to be the fall guy for him!"

Roy sighed, "Marc, really, I see no problem with the test. Really. If you're worried, I'll help you study and . . ."

Again Kent cut him off, "NO! Don't you get it?! I'm not taking their little test! I could get every answer correct and they'll still blame this on me. It's the principle of the thing here. They want me to fail so there is no way they'll let me succeed."

Roy leaned back under the hood using it to cover the look of annoyance he knew was on his face. "Kent, I really doubt that. Brackett is a fair man but he does take the qualifications of the paramedics he works with very seriously. We all have to attend regular update seminars and recert every five years. If we've been injured and been out of work we have to take evals to make sure we are back 100% before he'll sign us off to get back in the field. It only makes sense that since this is the first time someone already certed came into the program that he'd want to make sure things are equal. It's really in the best interest of everyone involved, from the hospital staff to the fire department and especially to the victims."

Roy chuckled as he fitted a readjusted plug back into its hole and ratcheted it down. "You should've been here when the program started. Brackett wasn't keen on it at all and he and John knocked heads several times in those early days."

Kent made a noise of disbelief, "Yeah sure. That might be so. But I still think that they're trying to fix the blame over Gages' mess ups on me. And you're just too nice to see he's been messing up repeatedly since I got here."

"John messed up?" Roy repeated his words with a frown, "When? How?"

Marc gave a forced chuckle and put his arm over Roy's shoulder. "Roy, you're a great guy and a top notch paramedic. But you have one fault . . .,"

Roy looked up, his expression a mixture of curiousity and wariness. Marc laughed harder, then his face got serious as he patted Roy solicitously on the shoulder. "You're just too trusting, too . . . too naive. You see only the best in people and expect the same from them. And I think in Gage's situation, that has been a handicap for you."

Roy blinked, confused.

Marc continued, "Now don't get me wrong. Gage is a nice enough kid, a little solemn and withdrawn maybe, but ok. He works hard, and he's a decent firefighter But I believe he tries to do things maybe a little beyond himself sometimes, and that's when he messes up."

Emotions boiled up in Roy as he straightened up out from under the hood, anger at what this . . . this person was insinuating about John Gage, resentment over being told he—Roy—was gullible and dread at what more Kent might say.

"I think you're wrong, Kent, dead wrong." Roy kept his voice even and strong although everything in him at that moment wanted to knock the other man's teeth down his throat. "John Gage is a top notch paramedic, one of the first and best trained out of Rampart. He has been serving the people of LA county with those abilities in a more than satisfactory manner for the last three years. I should know; I've been right there by his side for the majority of that time. If he'd been such a 'screw-up' as you have said, it would have showed before now and I or Brackett or Early or someone else would have seen it and called him on it."

Marc shook his head and clicked his tongue as he laid his arm over Roy's shoulders and gently squeezed his neck. "Roy, Roy Roy," he sighed, "Now, calm down. Don't get so upset. See what I mean? You are a good man and a great paramedic but . . ." he shook his head sadly, "but I think you've been looking through the rosy glasses so to speak when it comes to Gage. Maybe I can see it better because I came in here fresh, not knowing anyone before I came and so am unaffected by the obvious bias."

Marc clicked his tongue again, "I really think you've been covering up his mistakes all along, or catching them and correcting them before anyone else noticed, totally unconsciously of course." He corrected quickly at the look Roy gave him. "I don't think you've really been aware of what you were doing when you'd do it but," he sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders as he held his hands out to other side of his body, "Subconsciously, you know I'm right. I've watched you: I've seen you do it. I've watched how you are out on a run with him and I have to tell you, man . . ." here he looked Roy straight in the eye, his voice and face totally serious, "your actions speak louder that any protest you make now."

Roy felt a cold chill run down his spine. He swallowed several times before he managed to get his voice to work. "What do you mean?"

Marc continued to hold his gaze as he nodded, "It's like this, Roy. I understand loyalty to the department and all but I'm not going to be the fall guy for Gage. It's bad enough Stanley seems blind to his faults. I need you to remember, buddy, and back me up here."

Roy felt his face flush as an uncharacteristic wave of anger flooded him. With teeth clenched he demanded, "What are you talking about?"

Kent raised his hands in a soothing gesture, "Chill buddy, I'll tell you. On most of the calls, you automatically take over the care of the most severely injured and have him care for the less injured, if you even allow him to get close to the victims at all. And each time you did, you always made sure someone from the engine company was right there with him, ready to get you if needed when Gage got in above his abilities."

Roy didn't move or react in any manner as Kent went on, "You obviously know he has trouble driving the squad to emergencies since you never let him do that. I really think you have him drive it to Rampart afterwards only because there's no one else to do it and you know you have to ride in the ambulance with the victims. But each time he did drive it in, you monitored him on where he was and how long it took him to get there. You never trust him enough to check over the supplies with us in the mornings or do the calibrations for the instruments, and surely you remember the time he couldn't get that IV started in that really obese drunk we had two shifts ago. He tried twice and you finally had to take over. See? I have been watching and I've seen it."

Roy's ears filled with a rushing sound and his vision blurred as he staggered unsteadily. "My God . . ." the whispered words slipped from his lips as the words Kent had just said sank deep into his consciousness.

Unaware of the true feelings in the other paramedic but aware of the stagger in Roy's stance, Kent grabbed his elbow, supporting him as he snagged a lawn chair with his foot and drug it closer. He guided the stunned man into it and gently patted Roy's shoulder as he told him softly, "I know. I know this is a lot to absorb but it's all true. I'm just sorry I'm the one who had to finally point it out to you, buddy. But face it, it's for your own good that you face this."

"My God," Roy said again. "What have I done?"

Marc frowned, "Uh, listen. You just sit here a moment and rest, ok? It's pretty hot out here and we've been working on this awhile. I think it's time for a break. How 'bout something cold to drink?"

Roy struggled to direct his attention on what the man was telling him and finally managed to nod his head. "A drink would be . . . would be good."

Kent nodded, gave him a last pat and hurried off. Roy leaned back into the chair, closed his eyes and gave voice to a groan which felt like it came from his very soul. Kent was right; that was exactly the way he'd been treating his partner over the last two weeks.

Now, looking back Roy could see the bewildered looks John — as well as the engine crew—had given him in the beginning, when Roy had pushed John aside to take over all care of the victims himself. He could see those looks change over the next shifts to quick glances of brown eyes filled with pain and finally nothing, no more emotion or expression at all. He heard all the hurtful things he'd said, gauged to injure the dark haired medic, the things he and Kent had laughed at, at the younger man's expense. It made him feel sick.

'He'll never forgive me. Hell, I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself.' Guilt weighed heavily on him. How could he face him, face any of them, ever again? "Maybe I should request a transfer before the next shift." he told himself as he bent over, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, uncaring over the grease being transferred from his hands to his cheeks. 'God, John. I am so so sorry.'

Kent soon returned with a large glass of fresh lemonade and Roy drank deeply from it. Then silently he turned back to the car, intent on getting the remainder of the work done and getting out of there. Kent seemed oblivious of Roy's change of attitude and his mere grunts and one word comments as the other paramedic once again began the endless chatter Roy had come to hate. Before long, the car was finished, test driven and without any more words, Roy placed his tools into his car and left.

By the time he'd reached his house, it was afternoon. A note on the table told him some lunch was prepared and waiting in the fridge and his wife and daughter were out running errands. He showered, washing all the grease from his body and changed into fresh clothing then wandered aimlessly around the house for several minutes, finally ending up in his den. He stared at the painting hanging over his desk. 'That is one ugly painting; I really really hate that painting . . .' he mused then turned to his desk, digging suddenly in a file way in the back of the bottom drawer. When he finally found what he wanted, Roy drew it forth with a slightly trembling hands. He sank wearily into his chair as he stared at the framed photo he'd found. In it he stood side by side with his partner, in uniform, their arms over each other's shoulders, silly grins on both their faces.

Roy had no idea how long he'd sat there, staring at the photo before the phone ringing broke into his thoughts. He grabbed it up and placed the receiver to his ear with a flat, "Hello."

As the caller gave him their message, he sat up straighter in his chair. "Yeah? Is he alright? Oh. Ok. Yeah, sure. I can come in. I'll be there in . . ." he looked at his watch, "say 45 minutes. Ok. Bye Chief."

Roy left the room and heard his garage door open as he entered the kitchen. Jenny burst forth, holding a package in her hand. "Daddy! Mommy let me get that new dress for my Barbie! Wanna see it on her?"

He smiled down at his daughter and ruffled her hair, "Not right now, angel. You go on and play, Daddy needs to talk to Mommy for a minute."

Jo looked at him as he took the grocery bag from her and place it on the kitchen table. "Roy?"

"Any more out there?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Roy? What's wrong?" Something about her husband was different, something had happened while they had been separated.

Seeing the rising panic in his wife's mannerisms he smiled and shook his head. "Relax. I just got a call from headquarters. They need someone to come in and cover the last half of c- shift for Dwyer."

Jo frowned, "He's not badly hurt, is he?"

Roy shook his head, "No. It didn't sound like it anyway. Chief said he fell off a ladder and they think he might have broken his ankle. He's over at Rampart getting x-rayed now."

Jo relaxed, "Well, maybe it'll just be sprained not broken. Poor Tom. You'll let me know, right?"

"Right. I'm gonna swing by the cleaners and get my uniforms then head on over to the station." He smiled and kissed his wife. "See you in a couple days."

"Bye, honey. Be careful." She kissed him back and pulled him into a brief hug. "And tomorrow make sure you tell that skinny partner of yours I expect him here for breakfast when you guys get off Saturday morning."

Roy flinched but nodded his head as he grabbed his car keys. "Come give Daddy a hug, Jenny. He has to go to work."

Jenny ran out of the room and into his arm, "You gotta go in now, Daddy? Someone get hurt?"

Roy pulled her up into a hug, "Yes but he'll be ok. The doctors at Rampart are taking care of him right now."

Jenny gave her father a loud smacking kiss on his left cheek, then repeated it on his right. "That one's for Uncle Johnny. Bye Daddy!" Then she scampered off once more. Roy touched his right cheek, his expressions unreadable to his wife. She touched his arm and he looked her way. She smiled, "I don't think you really have to kiss Johnny." She teased, "Just let him know what Jenny said."

Roy nodded, his expression still unreadable as he left the house. By the time he pulled into the station, changed clothes and made his way into the dayroom both vehicles were in the bay and the smell of dinner filled the air. He looked at his watch, startled to find it read six o'clock. 'Where has the day gone?'