A/N: I want to thank everyone for reading and especially those who have shared your thoughts with me. I appreciate the encouragement and the constructive criticism. Your feedback helps me improve my writing, and I am so grateful to you all.

Chapter 4

Roy stood stunned inside the locker room as he watched his partner walk out of the door. How had he offended Johnny? Swallowing hard, he followed the younger man out into the apparatus bay, raising his voice at Johnny's back.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Roy couldn't stop the volume of his voice from rising as his partner walked away.

"Drop it, Roy," Johnny said, raising his right hand slightly as he walked away, waving off his partner. "Just forget I said anything."

"Forget it? No way. You started it, now FINISH IT! HOW DID-" Roy rounded the back of the engine, hesitating when he realized the others were already in formation. The entire engine crew was staring at him, having heard every word of the exchange.

The older medic coughed nervously into his closed fist. "Ahua, um…." He took his place in the morning line-up, his face reddening in shame. "Sorry, Cap." His blue eyes met those of his superior. "Ahem… Misunderstanding."

Hank held the clipboard at his side, wondering what had transpired in the locker room. "I see. Roy, how about you and John keep your domestic disputes out of the station. Is that understood?" The captain's eyes darted between the paramedics.

"Yes sir."

"Got it, Cap," Johnny added, standing at attention, his dark eyes staring through the opening beneath the rolled up front bay door.

Roy took his place beside his partner, feeling the cold shoulder the younger man was giving him.

"Mike, I think I speak for everyone when I say that we're all happy to have you back with us."

Mike, being a man of few words, glanced at his feet, fighting the lump in his throat. "Thank you, Cap. I just, ah… Ahem, I wanted to tell you all how much I appreciate all your support over these last couple of weeks. I really…," he scrubbed his open palm down his face. He had mentally rehearsed what he was going to say, but now it was as if he had lost his train of thought. He struggled to string together a few words of gratitude. "I thought I had lost everything when I got put on administrative leave, but… After a couple of days alone and trapped in my wrecked truck, I began to realize that… Well, that what I have here, with you fellas, is… It's what matters most. Friends and family – if you've got those two things, then you've got it all. And I believe that we…," he waved his hand around the six of them, "here at 51's, are both – we're friends AND we're fa… uh, family."

"Well said," Hank added, realizing that Mike was about to choke up, and he wanted to save his engineer the embarrassment of losing control of his emotions in front of the other men.

"I agree, Mike," Marco said, patting his friend on the back. "I completely agree."

"Not so long ago, I thought I had lost both – my friends and my family," Chet mused, staring at the gray cement floor. "I'm grateful to have gotten it all back, and more," he said, thinking of Caroline and Corrie. At least he hoped he still had the 'more' part. He would know after he made the call to Mr. and Mrs. Marks.

Hank thought about his own struggle, the one that nearly cost him his family and his career. He knew exactly what Mike was referring to because he felt the same way.

Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line. Hearing Mike's comments was only making him more anxious about what he had planned to do. The only consolation he had now, was that if he lost his career and his surrogate family at 51's, perhaps he would be reunited with Lily. At least he wouldn't be completely alone… And he would know that his coworkers and their families wouldn't be in danger because of what he considered to be the biggest failure of his life.

Roy barely heard his captain's voice, still stunned by his early altercation with Johnny, while Hank continued with roll call by reading a thank you card from the parents of a child who had recently been rescued from a car accident. His head jerked up when he Roy heard his name called out along with the word 'dorm' and knew that that was his assignment for the shift. He also heard Captain Stanley announcing that Rebecca had baked a cake in honor of Mike's return.

Suddenly, the line broke up and most of his shiftmates began heading to the kitchen for coffee and cake before beginning morning chores. He saw Johnny following Captain Stanley towards his office and wondered if that was at Hank's request, or Johnny's.

Marco waited for the apparatus bay to clear before he stepped up to the senior medic, leaning in a little closer than usual to ensure that no one else overheard their conversation. "Did he say anything?"

Roy merely shook his head, his eyes slowly moving from the captain's office to the lineman standing beside him. "No… I mean, he said I had offended him, and that I didn't do anything," Roy said, his mind replaying Johnny's words as he stared blankly at his friend. "I don't know what he means."

"How could you offend him without doing anything?" Marco questioned. "That doesn't make sense."

"I know, but that's what he said."

Marco scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out what Johnny could've been talking about. "Well, you must've done something." He quickly lifted his hands, palms out. "Don't get mad at me, but something had to have happened, right?"

Roy pressed his lips into a thin line. He felt his ire rising, again, but his brain took over, tamping down his rapidly beating heart. What Marco was saying was true.

He blew out his breath. "I guess… But for the life of me, I have no idea what he's talking about."

Marco patted his friend's shoulder. "Well, if there's anything I can do, just let me know," he said, turning toward the kitchen. "Let's get some of Mrs. Stanley's cake before Chet eats it all," he snickered. "Then will you move the squad for me?" He tossed over his shoulder.

"I'll go ahead and do it now. I need to cool off a little before I drink hot coffee," Roy said with a strained smile. He stepped to the driver's door of the squad, cranked up the vehicle, and moved it onto the apron. As he walked past Hank's office, he wondered if the two men inside were talking about his earlier outburst.

Inside the captain's office, Johnny accepted the proffered seat Hank was gesturing towards. He wondered what his superior was going to chastise him for.

Hank silently watched his younger medic who sat uncharacteristically still. Normally, the young man would have been squirming around, or spouting off a barrage of questions about why he had been called into the captain's office. What the experienced captain saw was concerning to him.

"John, are you alright, Pal?"

"Yes, sir. Have I done something wrong?"

Hank, knowing how to turn a conversation around on his men, reversed the question. "I don't know. Have you?"

"No, sir." Johnny didn't elaborate, but he also didn't look Hank in the eye.

The fire captain leaned back in his seat, studying his youngest man. "Well, do you wanna tell me what that was all about?"

Johnny thought for a moment before he spoke. "Cap, has Roy complained about my work performance?"

Hank's eyebrows crawled up into his dark hairline. "No, he hasn't. No one has. Are you telling me that your work performance has suffered from whatever is going on between you two?"

"No, sir. I'm not saying that at all. I was just wondering why I was called in here if my work performance is satisfactory," he questioned, his face remaining stoic.

Hank leaned forward, beginning to feel frustrated at Johnny's attempts to brush off their conversation. "Because I hope that our relationship goes beyond just that of a captain and his paramedic. I'm also your friend, John." Hank's worried hazel eyes scanned Johnny's chiseled features as the younger man stared blankly at the floor several feet in front of him. "I remember you being there for me when I was in a bad place, a few months ago. In fact, you were there for both me and Becca. And I'm here for you, anytime, day or night. I know you and Roy are as close as brothers, hell we all are, but you two are best friends. I don't like seeing my paramedics struggling to get along."

Johnny's dark eyes looked up into the concerned face of his superior. He blinked rapidly, fighting the stinging he was beginning to feel in the backs of his eyes. The reality of losing his friends, his brothers, was beginning to take its toll on him. His relationship with his captain over the last few years had somehow helped him replace what he had been missing with his own father. Although the senior Gage was older than Hank, they shared many of the same respectable qualities. Johnny thought about how much he missed his parents. He hadn't seen them since he graduated from the Fire Academy. Now he wondered if he might never see them again.

"John?"

Jerked from his musings by his captain's voice, he cleared his throat and looked up at Hank. "Ahem, yes, sir?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"That I can talk to you if I need to?" He asked, hoping he hadn't missed something Hank might have said while he was lost in his reverie.

"Well, yes, that's pretty much what I meant. Will you let me help you and Roy work out your differences?"

"I don't need any help, thank you, sir." Johnny commented. "May I go now?"

"No." Hank ran his hand through his hair. "Are you alright to work this shift with him?"

"Yes. Sir." Johnny spat out, a little too angrily, his teeth clenched together tightly.

"Well, then I guess you're dismissed. Go grab some cake and coffee, but just remember that I'm not your enemy, John," Hank said, a little more forcefully. "I'm your friend."

Johnny stood up, glancing once more at his captain, a man he respected more than anyone. The look lasted only a moment. He needed to begin severing his ties with everyone on his shift, praying he wasn't about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He turned his back to his captain as he reached for the door, mumbling. "Well, I never asked you to be."

Hank watched Johnny pull open the door and exit, heading to clean the latrines. He didn't know what to make of Johnny's last statement.

Hank was about to call Roy into his office when the klaxons sounded.

"Station 51, unknown type rescue, 2744 East Tyler Street, that's 2-7-4-4 East Tyler Street…"

As Sam Lanier's voice continued to repeat the address and cross street, the men of Station 51 bolted into action. Hank passed the address slip to Roy, who then passed it over to Johnny. The two vehicles pulled out into yielding traffic, each man wondering what lay ahead for them.

Johnny somehow managed to compartmentalize his problems during the rescue, leaving William Waite and his memories in the back corner of his brain while he focused on the task at hand. Roy pulled to a stop in front of the ranch-style home where a young man was standing on the front lawn frantically waving his arms. Behind him, a young woman was crying, her hands folded beneath her chin. Both of them were looking up in a very large tree.

"Station 51, at scene," Hank spoke into the gray microphone.

Mike pulled the engine to a stop behind the squad, casting his captain a worried glance. "Don't tell me my first run back is to help rescue a cat from a tree," he mumbled, swinging himself out of the cab.

Chet, having overheard Mike's comment, snickered as he peered over his shoulder. "If it is, can I please use the reel line, Cap? You know how they hate water," he chuckled. "I can get the feline down fast."

Hank didn't respond to his prankster's question. His face was too busy surveying the scene, especially the way his paramedics were looking up into the tree. The looks on their faces told him all he needed to know. This was not a pet rescue; there was definitely something that had both of his medics worried. Johnny seemed to be trying to yell at someone in the tree while Roy loped over to the engine, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Hey, Cap. We've got a kid stuck up in that tree. He's got his ankle caught. We're gonna need a ladder. I'll get the ropes and belts," he said, opening up the side compartments on the squad. "Johnny's trying to calm him down now, but he's pretty upset."

Hank felt his heart skip a beat. Child rescues were always the worst, and this one looked especially difficult. The tree appeared to be dying, making the seasoned fire captain concerned about the welfare of the victim, as well as his crew. He ordered Chet and Marco to assist with the ladder while he jogged over to support Johnny.

"Just hang on, Stevie. I'm gonna come up there and get ya, a'right?" Johnny called out, shifting his position to get a better look at the boy.

"Are you the father?" Hank asked the young man who had flagged them down.

"No. I'm not even sure who he is," the young man replied. He wrapped his arms around his wife, hoping to calm her down. "My wife, Peg, heard some shouts a little while ago. We just thought it was some neighborhood boys on their way to school. When she came out to see what was going on, she saw some of the older boys running down the street."

"It was awful," she spoke up. "I heard a limb break and then this terrible scream. When I walked over here and looked up, I saw that boy with his leg caught. H-he was leaning over that limb and cry-ing," she began to weep again, leaning into her husband's shoulder. "I – I didn't know what to d-do," she sobbed.

"You did just fine," Hank stated, watching as Chet and Marco leaned the ladder against the tree.

"How the heck did he get up there?" Chet mused, keeping the ladder steady while Johnny slipped the rope over his shoulder, latching the belts onto his waist.

"I dunno, but we gotta get 'im down quickly. He keeps movin' around, tryin' to get his foot free, and that limb he's hangin' onto doesn't look like it's gonna hold much longer," Johnny answered, quickly shimmying halfway up the ladder. The lower limbs were too small and dry to support his weight, so he had to go beyond them to the stronger, greener limbs that were a little higher up the trunk.

"Looks like lightning struck it," Marco commented, noting the dark streak along the trunk and the dying lower limbs.

"I've been meaning to cut this tree down since we moved in, a couple of months ago. I just haven't gotten around to it," the man complained, his guilt weighing heavily on his mind.

The crew on the ground watched as the thin paramedic made his way quickly up through the limbs of the dying tree, his eyes remaining on the dangling child overhead.

"Hang on. I'm almost to ya. How old are ya?"

"Ten," the little boy cried, squirming around. "H-hurts."

Johnny studied the scene as he climbed, noting that a branch had broken off just above the place where the boy was trapped. He quickly surmised that Stevie had been climbing on that limb when it broke, and even though the way he landed had likely caused a fractured ankle, had the limb not broken his fall, he probably would've had much more severe injuries, or worse.

"I know it does, buddy, but ya gotta stay still for me, a'right? I'm almost there."

Carefully, Johnny tied himself off, taking a moment to wrap the rope around the tree trunk. He had to fight the urge to reach out and grab the small child. Instead, he knew that keeping himself safe was the only way he would be able to help his victim. Once he was secured, he quickly assessed his patient.

"A'right, jus' take it easy, Stevie. I'm gonna check ya out real quick so I'll know the best way to get ya down," he explained, checking for injuries in the boy's lower limbs. He noted the swelling and bruising around the child's ankle, whispering a silent prayer of thanks when he felt a pedal pulse. It was weak, but he definitely felt it.

"Owe!"

"Sorry, kid," he apologized, knowing that he was going to have to cause even more pain in order to extricate the injured child. "Why'd ya climb up here anyway?"

"Well… 'cause the older boys dared me to, and they're in the seventh grade," Stevie sniffled, trying to be brave.

"Ohhh, I get it. Didn't wanna be called a chicken by the seventh graders, huh?"

The child only responded with a slight shake of his head, grateful that his rescuer understood his reasons for climbing the rotting tree. "Am I goin' to jail, Mister?"

Johnny used his fingers to push his helmet back off of his forehead, giving him a clearer view of the child who was hanging just above his shoulders. "Jail? Why would ya be goin' to jail?" He wanted to keep the child talking while he continued his assessment.

"Ain't you a cop?"

"Nope, I'm a firefighter/paramedic. Know what a paramedic is?" He asked, searching for solid footing that would allow him to stand up, reaching around the little boy's waist.

"No, owe!"

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," he said removing the additional belt he had brought up with him. "Well, a paramedic is a guy like me who knows how to get boys out of trees, and splint up their hurt ankles. Then we take you to the hospital so the doctor can fix you up," he explained, palpating the child's ribs. "Where else do ya hurt, Stevie?"

"Jus' my ankle… and my… my, um, ouch," he groaned, feeling Johnny's hand securing the belt around his waist.

"Do you hurt here?" Johnny asked, clicking the carabiners together so that the child was secured to Johnny's own belt. He patted the little boy's chest.

"Nu-uh."

Johnny continued his assessment, checking the little boy's neck and head. Satisfied that his upper body wasn't seriously injured, he began moving his hands down the little boy's body once more. "How 'bout here?"

"Warmer," the little boy said, trying to put on a brave face for the fireman.

Johnny pressed his lips together, thinking he knew the other place causing the child pain. "Did you get hurt between your legs?" He asked, feeling a sympathetic twinge in his own groin.

"Kinda," the boy whimpered. "You ain't gonna touch me there are you?"

"Not while we're up here in front of all those folks," Johnny explained, knowing that a testicular exam might be in order. "Why don't we do that when we get inside the ambulance where no one can see but you and me?"

"Do I hafta?"

Johnny looked into the tear-stained face of the frightened child. "Yea, I'm afraid so. But, I've got the same parts you do, so it'll be okay," Johnny said, offering his lopsided grin. "Now, Stevie, I'm gonna have to free up your ankle so we can get ya down. I'll try to be as easy as I can, but it might hurt. Can you be brave for me for just a second?" Johnny hated the idea of hurting the child, but his ankle needed to be freed from its wooden confines.

"Yea," the child answered, resigned to his fate. He was more worried about what the paramedic would do to him inside the ambulance than he was about his sprained ankle.

"Atta boy. Now, on three, ready? One. Two. Three."

"OWE!"

"Got it, Stevie. Now, don't move it, and try not to move around much, okay?"

The child didn't answer verbally. He feared that if he opened his mouth, everyone would hear him crying so he kept his lips clenched together tightly.

"Hey, Cap?"

"Yea, John?" Hank answered, looking up into the tree.

"I'm gonna hafta lower him down alone. I'm not sure these limbs will hold our combined weight," he called out. "I'll set up the rope from here, but I'm gonna need you fellas to lower him gently, a'right? And watch that right ankle, and there's possible trauma in the groin region," he said, looping the rope around the tree trunk and over a thicker limb. He trusted his shiftmates to carefully lower the child while he directed Stevie's descent from his post, higher in the tree.

"I gotta go down by myself?" The whimpering child asked, wide-eyed.

"You've got five firemen on the ground and one in the tree with you. You aren't alone, kid," Johnny commented. "Besides, you've already proven yourself to the seventh grade boys, so this will be a piece o' cake." He then removed his helmet, placing it on the dark curly hair of the overweight child, cinching the strap beneath his chubby chin. "There, now you're one of us."

"Thanks, Mister," the child said, his bottom lip quivering as he watched his rescuer prepare the ropes before he separated the two belts.

"My name's Johnny. My partner is Roy. He'll take care of you just as soon as you get down there, a'right?"

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you. Just as soon as my friends unhook you from this rope, then I'll hook myself to it and I'll be down before you know it." Johnny looked at the frightened child. "Now, ready?"

"I guess so."

"A'right, take him down," Johnny shouted, having re-gloved his hands to prevent rope burn as he assisted in lowering their victim.

Roy looked up, raising his hands when the child seemed to be within reach. He was careful not to further injure the swollen right ankle, and even more careful as his hands reached up a little higher. He didn't want to cause any further injury or undue pain for the boy. He could see a jagged tear in the child's jeans, on the inside of his right thigh. He cradled the chubby boy in his arms, amazed at how heavy the kid actually was. 'No wonder Johnny didn't want to try to lower them both at the same time,' he thought as he held the boy long enough for Mike to remove the belt. Roy quickly made his way over to the place where their equipment had been neatly laid out on a yellow blanket by 51's linemen.

"Easy does it," Roy said, kneeling down with the child, removing both his helmet, and the one Johnny had loaned to their young victim. "Looks like you might be on crutches for a while," he stated, reaching for the boy's wrist. After checking his vitals and reporting them to Rampart, the efficient paramedic quickly began to splint the injured ankle. He turned to look over his shoulder at the sound of the arriving Mayfield ambulance.

"Hey, Roy?" Hank said, standing over the boy, casting his lean shadow over the round face of their victim to block the brightness of the morning sun.

"Yea?"

"Vince said the boy's mom is on her way over. Seems he lives just up the street here," Hank explained, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"You called my mom?" Stevie asked. "Maybe I'd be better off if I went to jail instead of the hospital," he moaned, grunting slightly as Roy palpated his lower abdomen. "No!"

"Easy, Stevie. I'm just checking you out. My partner said you might have hurt yourself in your private area," Roy paramedic explained.

"No I didn't. My upper leg is burning, not my… you know," Stevie whispered.

Roy further examined the child's inner thigh, seeing a deep gash that ran from just above his knee to about two inches below his hip. Realizing that Stevie's manhood had not been compromised, he released a sigh of relief.

"STEVIE!" A red-faced rotund woman shouted, breathing hard as she ran up to her son. "Oh, my baby. Are you alright?" She turned to Roy before the child had a chance to answer. "Is my baby alright? What happened?" She called out, breathlessly.

"I think he's gonna be fine. He's hurt his ankle which I've splinted, and-"

"AARGH!" The scream was preceded by a cracking sound, and ended with a thud.

Roy spun around at the sound of his partner's screaming voice. As much as he wanted to run to the place where Johnny had fallen out of the tree, he knew his first priority was to their victim. "Um, Ma'am, we're going to take him to Rampart General. You can ride in the front if you'd like." His eyes darted worriedly to the place where the engine crew was surrounding their downed crewmate. "Cap?"

"We'll take care of John," Hank said, waving Roy off. The captain knew that Johnny was injured, but he was moving his extremities, which was a good sign. "I think he just got the wind knocked out of him."

"Okay," Roy said, unconvinced, as he packed up the biophone. In a few moments, the ambulance attendants had Stevie loaded, and Roy crawled in beside him. He could see Johnny writhing on the ground, his feet shifting as he fought the pain.

"Is Mister Johnny gonna be okay?"

Roy returned his blue eyes to the pudgy patient. "Yea, he's fallen before. He'll be alright," he said flatly, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Stevie.

Beneath the tree, Hank leaned over Johnny, pressing the younger man's shoulders into the ground. "Stay still, John." He looked up at his engineer. "Get another squad and ambulance rolling, Mike."

Mike quickly loped to the engine, keying up the microphone. "LA, Station 51. Respond another squad and ambulance to our location. Code I. Repeat, code I."

"10-4, 51."

Mike returned to the place where Johnny lay. "Try to stay still, Johnny. Another squad and ambulance are rolling."

"H-hurts… like… hh… he-argh!" Johnny cried out, as a back muscle began to spasm.

Hank patted Johnny's shoulder consolingly, somewhat thankful for the spasm as it cut off his medic's swear in front of civilians.

"You've got a nice cut on your forehead, Pal, and a few on your arms, too." The captain looked up at his men standing vigil over their fallen comrade. "Chet, get the first-aid kit. At least we can begin to disinfect and bandage these wounds, since John's the only paramedic still on scene." He looked back down at Johnny. "You may need a few stitches in your head, but at least you won't have to start your own IV, this time," he chuckled, hoping to relieve the younger man's anxiety as much as possible. They were all concerned about Johnny's back and ribs, but they didn't think his injuries were life-threatening, like the snakebite had been.

"Th-thanks, Cap. Th-that's, argh… That's a re-relief," he groaned, panting from the pain.

Sirens were heard approaching, and the men of the engine crew were grateful to have paramedics on the scene to assist Johnny. They backed out of the way to allow Brice and Bellingham to attend to their injured friend.

Johnny looked up into the bespectacled face of Craig Brice. 'Ah, hell,' he thought to himself.

Inside the ambulance that was transporting the original victim, Roy was trying to make his hurting young friend feel a little more comfortable. He pulled the blanket back up over the sniffling child. "It's gonna be okay, Stevie. Everything seems fine down there except for that cut, but you'll probably be sore for a day, or two." He patted his young patient on the shoulder, offering his own sympathetic smile. He looked out the window, realizing that they were turning into the emergency entrance at Rampart, and he wondered how his partner was doing.

Back at the scene, Johnny was becoming more agitated with the 'perfect paramedic.' "This isn't necessary, Brice," Johnny groused, hating the way the backboard made his aching muscles hurt even worse. "I was moving just fine before you got here."

The 'walking rulebook,' as Johnny so often referred to Craig Brice, merely looked down at his colleague-turned-patient as he tightened the straps. "Spinal precautions are imperative when there is a risk of a compromised vertebra, Gage," he commented, pushing his black rimmed glasses back to the top of his nose.

"Oh yea? Well I'm gonna compromise YOUR vertebra!"

"John," Hank admonished, looking over Bellingham's shoulder. He grimaced for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say. He knew his youngest man was in pain, but he also knew that Johnny was prone to hiding the true extent of his injuries. However, this was neither the time nor the place to address that subject. Instead, he chose to simply play it safe. "Let the man do his job."

Brice and Bellingham quickly had Johnny ready for transport. When Craig crawled into the back of the ambulance with their patient, Johnny rolled his eyes. He knew that this would be one of the longest rides to Rampart he had ever experienced.

Inside Rampart's emergency room, Roy stood at the nurse's station, distracted by the update on his partner that Craig Brice was giving to Dixie over the base station radio.

"We're backing up to your door now," Brice announced.

"10-4, 36. We'll be waiting in treatment room 2." She picked up her notes, turning around in time to see Roy staring at her. She knew how close the paramedic duo was at 51's. In fact, she had come to realize that all the men from 51's A-shift were close. She could see how upset Roy was, and remembered how helpless he had felt the day that Johnny had been bitten by a rattlesnake. They had all felt helpless as they waited for Mike to drive Johnny to Rampart on the back of the engine.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?"

"He'll be okay. His vitals are good, and Craig is reporting movement and feeling in all of his extremities," Dixie stated, unnecessarily. "He's young, strong,-"

"Something's wrong, Dix. I don't know what, but something's wrong," Roy commented, staring at the white countertop. He really hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

Dixie knew that Johnny and Roy had a way of communicating that almost seemed telepathic. She had witnessed them working as if they were one person with four hands on many occasions. Yet, she knew that Roy meant something else. "Wrong how?"

"Well, um, just that… See," Roy stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for his comment, when suddenly a gurney rounded the corner. Craig Brice was flanking the stretcher, IV bag raised above his head to allow gravity to send the fluids into Johnny's vein. Craig looked up as the gurney was turned into treatment room 2.

"Hello, DeSoto," he said flatly. His mouth opened to offer additional information about Johnny's condition, but Johnny drowned out the verbal report.

"Roy, get me outta this damn contraption!"

"Now hold on there, partner," Roy began, following near Johnny's head as the entourage made its way into the exam room. "We've gotta make sure that you're alright."

"I'll be alright as soon as I wrap my fingers around Brice's scrawny neck!" The hurting paramedic seethed.

"And who are you to be calling someone else scrawny?" Dr. Brackett questioned, having walked into the treatment room as Johnny was transferred from the ambulance gurney onto the exam table, the backboard making the transfer much easier for the men.

"Doc, I'm fine. Just let me get off this damn board. It HURTS!"

Dixie opened up Johnny's chart, taking notes as Brice rattled off the update to the emergency room physician. Roy busied himself with taking a fresh set of vitals.

"Pupils equal and reactive, BP is 140/90-"

"Because I'm in PAIN, damn it!" Johnny interrupted.

Roy cut his blue eyes at his partner, never breaking his train of thought. "Pulse 92, respirations difficult to count since the patient is uncooperative," he stated, removing the stethoscope from his ears, leaving it to dangle around his neck.

Dr. Brackett leaned over Johnny's chest, ensuring that the paramedic could see him. "John Gage, you know this is necessary because of the distance you fell. Now, we're going to get Malcolm in here for some x-rays, and then I'll decide what to do next. We're trying to treat you, not torment you," he said, his bottom lip twitching in frustration. "I'll order the MS just as soon as possible, but I need to get those pictures first. Even though we don't see a head injury, it's still possible."

"Aarrgh!" Johnny groaned, clenching his right hand into a tight fist. He hated the feeling of being restrained, more than anyone realized. He knew they were all following protocol, and that it really was for his own good, but right now, all he wanted to do was get off the bed and out of the hospital.

Malcolm arrived, noisily entering the exam room, bumping the x-ray machine against the door. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Roy exited the room, following Dr. Brackett, Dixie, and Brice, leaving Malcolm to his work.

Brice shook Roy's hand. "I hope Gage will have a quick recovery."

"Thanks," Roy responded, watching as Brice walked back down the hallway to the exit.

Dr. Brackett crossed his arms over his chest. "Johnny isn't usually this agitated," the physician commented, looking at both Roy and Dixie as he waited for one of them to respond to his comment. When neither of them did, he pushed on. "Roy, did Johnny hit his head during the fall, or does Craig always bring out the worst in him?"

Roy leaned his back against the wall, his head tilting back enough to make contact with the cold tile. "Maybe… And yes."

Dr. Brackett lifted his right hand, grasping his chin between his thumb and fingers. "I see. Has he been combative since the fall?"

Roy shook his head slowly, realizing that Dr. Brackett was concerned about Johnny's mental state having a physical cause. Roy wasn't so sure. "I don't really know what to say, Doc. He's been acting… I don't know… Difficult for a few days. This," he cocked his head to the right, in the direction of exam room 2, "may not have anything to do with the fall. It might be something else." He pushed off from the wall, holding up one hand to prevent the next question he knew was coming. "And no, he hasn't told me anything, and no, I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Okay, fair enough." Kelly Brackett pocketed his hands into his lab coat. "Looks like I'll be having a private conversation with him as soon as Malcolm gets through, but just so I'm clear, his current state of agitation began BEFORE his injuries?"

"Yea… It's been going on for a few days now."

Moments later, the x-ray machine pushed through the open doorway ahead of Malcolm. "I'll get these ready ASAP, Dr. Brackett."

"Thanks," the physician replied, then looked back and forth between Roy and Dixie. "Give me a few minutes alone with him, will you?"

"Take as long as you want. It'll give me a break," Roy stated with a hint of sarcasm, turning to walk towards the staff lounge. "At least he's still strapped down, so he can't bite you."

"He might bite my head off, though," the doctor snickered, walking past Dixie with his open palm out, ready to push through the exam room door.

"Don't worry about him, Kel. Johnny's bark is worse than his bite," came the sultry reply. Dixie did her best to hide her emotions, but there was no hiding the worry in her blue eyes. "I'll go talk to Roy," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the lounge. "You take that one."

"Thanks a lot, Dix."