A/N: Thank you all for reading and for sharing your comments with me. This has been a long journey through this series, and I wanted to let you all know how much your support means to me. I've had several moments where I considered abandoning this series, or at least allowing someone else to finish it, but your encouragement has kept me going. I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart. This chapter is a little longer than usual. I hope you don't mind.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, extreme language, and violence.

Chapter 7

Johnny and Roy stood staring at each other, neither man knowing what to say.

"Duh, um… Hi, Roy," Johnny stammered, wishing he could think of a plausible explanation for why Joanne's former boss was returning him to his apartment. "Thanks for bringing the Rover over."

"Rover over?" Roy repeated. "Geez, you're a poet and don't even know it, huh?" He commented, mockingly. He shifted his eyes from his partner to Iris, questioning her silently.

"He's still on pain meds," Iris tried to joke. "I, um, I was on my way to work and saw him walking. So, I picked him up."

Roy's eyebrows knit together above his blue eyes. He felt a twinge of doubt forming in his mind, not fully believing her story. Slowly, he looked back into the anxious face of his partner. "What? You're lady friend wouldn't bring you home?" Roy asked sarcastically, unaware that Iris was actually the woman who had picked Johnny up from Rampart the day before.

"Weelll," Johnny drawled, stepping a little closer to his building. He forced his trademark grin to decorate his face. "You know how ladies want me to stick around longer, but I'm a free spirit, Roy. I can't stay in one place too long." He looked at Iris, using his eyes to beg her not to reveal their secret.

"Take care of yourself, John," Iris said with a wave before returning to her place behind the wheel of her car.

Johnny raised his hand slightly. "Thanks for the lift," he said, clutching the key that was suddenly thrust into his open palm by Roy. He looked quickly at his best friend, pain filling his heart for what he was going to lose. "Thanks for bringing the car back. I really do appreciate it."

"Sure thing," Roy said, watching as Johnny moved stiffly towards the stairs. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm good. Tell Jo and the kids I said hello."

Roy looked back at the parking lot, seeing Mike stepping out of his vehicle with a confused look on his face. He shook his head slowly at the concerned engineer, walking over to the place where Mike was parked. Roy still couldn't wrap his head around what he had just seen and heard.

"Was that Iris?" Mike asked, his eyebrows lifting, wrinkling his forehead.

"Yea," Roy explained, opening the car door. "Said she saw Johnny walking home and stopped to pick him up, but why didn't he call one of us to pick him up? Did he really think he could make it home by walking in his condition?"

"Good point." Mike thought for a moment, then looked over at his friend. "Of course that all depends on how far he was walking," he snorted as he reclaimed his position in the driver's seat. "Isn't she out early for a Sunday?"

Roy looked wistfully through the windshield. "That's just it. She said she was on her way to work and saw him walking. He said his latest fling wouldn't bring him home…," he hesitated, thinking for a moment. "But Iris doesn't open the shop on Sundays."

"Maybe it's a special occasion."

Roy couldn't stop his mind from reeling with possibilities. "Something's not right. I don't know what that partner of mine is up to, but something just isn't right."

"Well, do you want to drive by Bloomer's to see if she's there?"

Roy thought for a moment. "Yea… It isn't that much out of the way. Let's go."

E!

Inside his apartment, Johnny carefully reached up to the shelf in his closet, hissing at the pain the effort caused. He pushed a couple of boxes aside, pulling out the dusty leather camera bag that he hadn't looked at in years. At one time, it had been his pride and joy, the result of a year of hard work on a ranch to save up enough money to make the purchase. The zoom lens had been a Christmas gift from his parents, an investment in his future career as a photo journalist.

He carried it over to his bed, took a seat, and stared at the worn case poised in his lap. It held far more than just his first camera; it held memories that he had tried for a decade to bury. Now it seemed that the ghosts from that time were going to haunt him for eternity.

Carefully he unzipped the bag, removing the old camera. He shuddered involuntarily as he thought about the last photographs he had ever taken with the instrument. How he had managed to take pictures under such duress, he didn't know. Beneath the camera lay the black cylinder that he knew held the images that the DA needed. He also knew that if he turned them over to the authorities, he would then be forced to go back to the place that he had sworn he would never return.

He inhaled deeply, rolling the small canister between his thumb and index finger. He remembered every minute of that day he had packed up his camera and undeveloped film, preparing to head west for an uncertain future. He had been so afraid of William Waite and his accomplices back then. Now, he wasn't as much afraid of them as he was embarrassed by his inaction on that foggy morning. If he had only done the right thing ten years ago, then this nightmare might be over. Lily might never have run away to join a cult. He might have returned to the reservation in Montana, and he would never have missed so much time with his parents.

He stared at the small container for several long moments. He didn't know for sure that he had captured the images he thought he had. He remembered hiding among the underbrush, zooming in on the activities happening along the bend in the river. His heart was beating so fast and hard that he was afraid that his pictures would be blurry. What if he hadn't captured the grisly scene on film? What if his running to California had all been for nothing? Still, whether he had documented the events of that day or not, he knew what he had seen and heard. Sound carries well across water, especially on a foggy morning, and he had heard every despicable word.

Johnny had awakened early on that Saturday morning, a habit from his time spent on the ranch during his childhood. He walked outside to breathe in the fresh cool air; mornings had always been his favorite time of the day. The minute he saw the patches of fog in the distance, he knew what he wanted to do.

Quietly, he gathered his camera bag and headed out the door. The place where he, along with Iris and Lily, were staying was only about a mile from a river bridge. With his knowledge of the outdoors, he knew that the fog would be a little thicker near the water. He smiled to himself as he thought about the pictures he would take of the bridge shrouded in fog. If he was lucky, he might even be able to sell them to a magazine for a few bucks.

Just as he had anticipated, the fog was drifting upwards from the water towards the steel girders arching over the river. He set up his camera on the northern side of the bridge and began clicking the shutter button. He couldn't help, but grin as he thought about how the pictures were going to look. This would be his best photo shoot yet, the shots that would get him noticed, or so he hoped.

In the distance, he heard mumbling and the creaking sound of vehicle doors opening and slamming shut. Having visited the bridge before, he knew that there was a small boat ramp on the southern side of the bridge. He assumed that someone was out early to do a little fishing on this peaceful Saturday morning. Then the strangled sound of a painful wail sent Johnny's heart slamming around inside his chest and lodging in his throat. He left his camera atop the tripod and stepped behind the underbrush. Fear enveloped him, sucking the breath out of his lungs and leaving him unable to move his feet. His dark eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was watching. He wanted to rush to the aid of the victim, but he was frozen in place, grateful to be hidden from the view of the men gathering at the tailgate of the pick-up truck, a short distance down the riverbank.

He didn't know what to do to help the young man, knowing that he was about to watch something awful happen. Suddenly, he decided to use the new zoom lens he had purchased. Perhaps he could take a picture of the offenders to help the young victim identify his attackers when he went to the police. Johnny took aim with the lens, focusing it on the red pick-up truck parked precariously close to the river's edge. The victim left along the edge of the river that morning had not survived. He had died a slow painful death, and young John Gage had witnessed it all.

Back in his bedroom in Los Angeles, Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the painful images of the events of that morning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the sights, sounds, and smells of that event. His co-workers had always known that he hated water rescues more than any other kind, but they didn't know why. It was the smell of the water, the feel of the cool damp breeze blowing through his hair, and knowing that someone's life was on the line… Those types of rescues always brought back the same sense of fear and foreboding, even when the victim survived.

Realizing that he was in a dangerous position and that there was nothing he could do to help the victim, Johnny quickly and quietly gathered up his camera equipment. He looped the straps of his bag across his body, and scrambled up the river bank, cowering down below the level of the underbrush. When he reached the highway, he began walking swiftly in a northerly direction, away from the bridge and the horrible scene of violence and death.

In the distance behind him, Johnny heard the rumble of a pick-up truck, and immediately turned around to head towards the oncoming vehicle. Because there had been no other vehicles on the road, he assumed that the truck he heard approaching belonged to the men he had seen commit the heinous crime. Not wanting them to know that he had been in their vicinity, he decided to make it appear that he was heading in that direction, not retreating from it. Unknowingly, he had saved his own life by that action.

A few moments later, Waite had seen Johnny walking at a fast pace along the side of the road, and stopped to question him. Seeing the older man, and recognizing him as a local politician he had seen around town, sent a sense of absolute terror like none he had ever known surging through his spine. The deep voice startled him and he turned around to see the two men; the driver was William 'Bill' Waite, and the man sitting in the passenger's seat was the local Chief of Police. The sight of them caused Johnny's stomach to churn, and he feared he would vomit in their presence.

"Whatcha doin' out so early this mornin'?" Waite questioned, leaning his rotund upper body out of the open window of the driver's side door. The man in the passenger's seat kept silent, allowing his evil sneer to speak for him.

"N-nothin', sir. I was jus' gonna take pictures o' the fog on the river. It… It makes that bridge look kinda spooky," Johnny said, waving at the structure ahead of him, his voice sounding as shaky as his hands were.

"Mmm hmm… You ain't from here, are ya?"

"No, sir. I'm from Mon- um, Montana." Johnny gulped, regretting his answer, but it was too late to take back the words. He had already cut his long hair, before he had arrived, hoping to fit in better with the locals. The last thing he wanted to do was let people here know that he was of mixed heritage. Iris had recommended a crew cut, something he despised, but had agreed to do. After all, he could let it grow out again as soon as he left this area.

"Mmm hmm," Waite repeated his earlier grunt, eyeing the skinny youngster up and down. "You got a name, boy?"

"J-John, um," he thought quickly, not wanting to fully disclose his identity to the stranger. Instead, he blurted out the name Iris and Lily had given him along their journey. "Thornapple… John Thornapple." He swallowed hard, not liking the sneaky grin Waite gave him. "My f-friends call me, Th-Thorn."

"I see. Well, JOHN," Waite emphasized, making sure that the teenager understood that they were anything but friends. "I've been seein' ya 'round these parts for a few weeks now. I know you didn't come all this way from Montana jus' to take a few pictures." He spat on the ground near Johnny's feet, causing the teenager to step away slightly. "There aint' no need for you to go pokin' around that bridge this mornin', so you just head on back where you came from, ya hear?"

"We're the law around here. If you go any closer to that bridge, then I'll jus' have to arrest you for trespassing," he threatened, causing Johnny's thighs began to tremble.

"If you're here to stir up trouble," Waite began again, turning his head to give a knowing wink to his accomplice. "You'll regret it. You jus' 'member one thing," Waite said, pointing his thick index finger at Johnny's face. "I'm a fuckin' magician, boy. I can make people disappear… And they don't get found unless I WANT them to get found. Understood?"

Johnny gulped, unable to find his voice.

"And when somebody pisses me off, they ain't the ones that disappear. We make their FAMILY disappear." He pulled his upper body back inside the window of the pick-up truck. "Now, you think 'bout that while you're down here takin' pictures of trees, an' hay fields, an' bridges, an' shit, you hear?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You got any identification on ya, boy?" The police chief asked.

"N-no, sir."

"Well…," the chief began, "Bill, I'd say he's at least eighteen, wouldn't you?" The officer asked Waite.

"Yep, at least." Waite responded, smirking at his friend before turning back around, seeing the young man they were intimidating turning paler. "Think he needs to spend some time in the hoosegow?"

"Um, no sir, no sir, I ain't gonna trespass. I'll jus' be headin' home now," Johnny stuttered in a high pitched strained voice.

"You do that," Waite laughed, shifting the truck into first gear, glaring at the petrified young man.

Johnny could only nod as he stared at the dragon tattoo on Waite's forearm. Johnny had never seen anything like it before, and each detail was permanently engraved in his mind.

"Good, now, SCRAM!"

Johnny jerked his head up as if he had heard Waite's shout again. Even though he was now an adult, Johnny could still hear the command echoing through the years, and the threats were just as real today as they had been back then. He ran his hand through his hair, willing his breathing to settle down, feeling the rivulets of sweat sliding down his temples.

Johnny had seen Waite watching him in his rearview mirror, as he drove away. As soon as the truck was out of sight, he scrambled as fast as he could, his heart pounding inside his chest as he headed back to the place where he had been staying. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tears pouring out onto his cheeks. When he made it back to the property safely, he silently thanked God for protecting him. That was when he made his promise to the same deity. He would do whatever he had to do to protect his family, or anyone close to him, from the infamous William Waite.

It had been nearly nightfall when he had found out that the man he had seen murdered, was the son of the woman who had invited them to stay in her home during that month. Many residents in the area had opened up their homes to strangers, and Kizzy was no different. Johnny could still hear her mournful wails when her pastor and the county sheriff had come to her home to tell her that Phillip was dead.

It took a couple of days before Johnny finally broke his silence, revealing what he had witnessed and the threats he had been given. No one encouraged him to go to the authorities with his information, and he was advised not to develop the pictures; it was simply too dangerous. The following week, Iris, Lily, and Johnny had packed up their belongings, saying their tearful goodbyes to the grieving mother, and set out for California. That was when the three of them had devised their plan, the plan that had changed Johnny's future forever.

Standing up slowly, Johnny walked across his bedroom and stared out of his window at the cars speeding by on the freeway behind his apartment. He felt just as lost now as he had felt as that lonely frightened teenager. He hadn't known what to do back then, just like he didn't know what to do now. One thing he did know for sure – he needed to talk to Lily. Together, they could decide what to do. Carefully, he packed the camera and film canister back into the bag and returned it to its hiding spot in his closet. He needed to lie down and sleep, to let the last dose of pain medication exit his system before he made the trip to Tehachapi. Somehow, he needed to spend some time with Lily.

E!

Across town, on 223rd Street, Mike and Roy stood beside their respective vehicles behind Station 51. The B-shift was on a run, leaving the two men alone to talk.

"Why would she lie, Mike? I just don't get it."

Mike, being a man of few words, crossed his arms over his chest, and allowed his azure gaze to drift to the concrete. "I don't know."

The two men had driven past Bloomer's on their way back to the station and found the store to be closed, just as Roy had suspected. The rear parking lot, the place where Iris normally parked, had also been empty, further confirming Roy's suspicions. A brief moment of silence passed between them before Roy spoke up.

"I'm gonna go home and try to get a little sleep. I'll go back over to Johnny's place this afternoon. I really need to talk to him."

"I understand," Mike said, turning toward his own vehicle. "Let me know if I can do anything."

"I will. Thanks, Mike. See ya next shift," Roy called over his shoulder.

Roy backed out of his parking spot, quickly maneuvering the gold Porsche around the side of the brick building and into the street. He didn't know if it was sheer exhaustion or his worry about his partner, but the drive home seemed longer than usual. When he finally pulled to a stop in his driveway, he exhaled a deep breath. He needed the comfort and advice of his soul mate.

He pushed through the front door, dropping his duffel bag onto the sofa as he passed it on his way to the kitchen.

"Hey, Jo," he said, stepping up to the bar that separated the kitchen from the small dining area.

Joanne turned around, holding the dish towel in her hand. She didn't like the look she saw on Roy's face, and immediately knew that something was wrong.

"Uh-oh, bad shift?" She asked, seeing the tired look on his face and hearing the fatigue in his voice. She had been a fireman's wife long enough to recognize the signs of distress in her husband, even when he was trying to hide it.

"Yea… Um, I need to get some sleep for a little while, but then I've got to go check on Johnny. He fell out of a tree yesterday morning and got banged up pretty bad. His girlfriend picked him up at Rampart," he continued, knowing that his wife would wonder why she hadn't been called to take care of her husband's best friend. "He's back at home now, Mike and I just dropped off the Rover, but I feel like I need to go see if he needs anything."

"Ooh, poor Johnny. Dixie didn't mention it when she called me yesterday, or else I would've gone to check on him myself."

Roy felt his forehead wrinkle in confusion. "Dixie called you?"

"Yea, said she needed Iris' phone number for something. What time did he get hurt? Maybe she called me before it happened," Joanne said, wanting to give Dixie the benefit of the doubt.

"Um, I don't know exactly, but it was pretty early… Not long after roll call," he responded, his suspicions growing.

"Hmm, she didn't call me until noon, so it had already happened," Joanne said with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, you know how busy ER's can be. She would've told you if she thought she needed to. I guess Johnny's girlfriend had already picked him up by then," Roy lied; he was beginning to put the pieces together in his mind, and the picture that was forming was making him uneasy.

"I'm sure you're right," she said, turning back around to retrieve his breakfast from the stove. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said, handing him the plate. "You look like a good meal, a hot shower, and a long nap would do you a world of good."

Roy accepted the proffered plate, feeling his heart flutter. He knew that he had the best wife in the world, and he felt so undeserving of her. "Thank you, Jo."

He set the plate down, then stepped around the short bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room. She was pouring him a cup of coffee, but he walked up behind her, placing both of his larger hands on hers, stilling her immediately. Her scent was intoxicating, and her nearness gave him such comfort. He had come close to losing her not so long ago. He leaned in behind her, kissing her softly on the nape of her neck. "God I love you, baby."

Joanne leaned back against him, relishing the feeling of warmth and security his body provided to her. There was also something else she was feeling, and smiled at the thought of her still having such an effect on his lower anatomy.

"I love you, too, Roy." She released her grip on the coffee cup, allowing it to rest on the counter top. She turned around in his arms, brushing her own body against his and her lips across his bristly face. She pushed her hips forward slightly, skimming the crotch of his jeans. "Think maybe we can do something about this a little later on?"

"Um hmmm," he moaned, taking her mouth with his own, his need to connect with her more overwhelming than his need for food and sleep. He owed his very existence to her, and he wanted to show her just how much she meant to him.

"The kids are going over to the neighbors for a birthday party this afternoon," she replied, biting her lower lip between her teeth, knowing that the pouty look she was giving him was driving him wild. She was rewarded with a grin and a husky groan as he enveloped her once more.

"Guess I should eat and get a little sleep," he said, kissing her forehead lightly as he pulled away. "Sounds like I might need my energy for a little afternoon delight."

"You bet you will," she giggled. "Then you can go check on Johnny." She turned back to finish up the dishes she had been drying when he had walked in. "I'll fix him a little something to eat. I'm sure he won't feel like cooking… Unless his girlfriend is taking care of him," she suggested, arching an eyebrow at her husband.

"Yea… Who knows," he mumbled, returning to his seat at the bar. Images of Johnny and Iris drifted through his mind. Remembering that he had wanted her opinion, he asked her the question that had been plaguing him all morning.

"Jo… Do you think Johnny is the type of man who would get involved in a May/December romance?"

E!

It was nearly noon, when the alarm clock jarred Chet out of a deep slumber, eliciting a mumbled curse from him as he slapped around on the nightstand to silence the offending device. Groggily, he pushed himself upwards, suddenly aware of another presence in the room with him.

"Gah!" He blurted out, hugging the covers around his naked torso, thankful that he had been able to muster up enough energy to partially dress when he had gotten out of the shower. He barely remembered drying himself off and pulling on a pair of boxers before stumbling across the room and falling into his bed.

A feminine giggle offered a light apology. "Sorry, Chet," Caroline said, stepping closer to him so he could see her better in the darkened room.

"Aw, man. You 'bout gave me a heart attack, babe."

"Maybe you shouldn't've given me a key," she said playfully, sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed.

Her nearness made his heart beat faster, circulating his blood throughout his body, and causing it to pool in the lower region. "You sure are a sight for sore eyes," he said, reaching out to caress her glowing face.

"Hungry?"

He grinned knowingly, leaning in for a feather light kiss. "Depends… Are you on the menu?"

She slapped him playfully, dodging his intentions. "Not now, silly. We're meeting Mom and Dad Marks at Niccoli's." She ran her hands across his bicep nearest her. "Then we'll come back here for dessert," she teased. "They'll have Corrie."

Chet allowed his thumb to brush her rosy lips as he pushed her hair away from her face. "Promise me you'll… come… back here," he whispered in a husky voice full of desire.

"Oh, you're terrible, Chet… But, yes…," she said, kissing the end of his nose, "and so will you," she replied, understanding the double meaning of his comment.

She loved the soft whimper he released when she pulled away from him and stepped over to the window. Slowly, she pulled back the heavy dark curtains, allowing the noonday sun to lighten up the drab room. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

"I'm risin'," he said, throwing the covers off of his naked legs. "I might not be shinin', but I'm risin'," he said, standing up in front of her with a certain bulge to emphasize his statement. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Caroline?"

She blushed when her eyes caught sight of what he meant, then she quickly looked back up into the blue eyes of the man she loved. "I hope I can make you happy for the rest of our lives," she spoke softly and with sincerity. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting, Chet. I really am. I love you so much, and I'm…," she hesitated, feeling the hitch in her voice. "I'm so honored and truly happy to be engaged to you. I just hope… I just hope that I," she sniffled, trying to maintain control of her emotions. "I want to make you as happy as you've made me. I hope that I won't disappoint you."

Suddenly, Caroline felt two strong arms envelop her, soothing away all her fears and worries. "I'm the luckiest man on earth," Chet whispered. "I love you so much it hurts," he crooned into her ear. "Let's go eat lunch with your… Ahem," he corrected himself. "With OUR family, and then come back here for dessert," he said, nuzzling her neck. "And we can talk as long as you want to about whatever has been worrying you, about our wedding, about our futures together, about… About anything in the world."

She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder, unable to find her voice. He loved her, truly loved her, and nothing else mattered.

E!

The lunch crowd was in full force by the time the Lopez family made their way into the busy restaurant. Marco wrapped his arm around Beverly's waist while they waited to be seated.

"Thank you for joining us today," he whispered into her ear.

The counselor smiled warmly, enjoying the feeling of closeness with the lineman. It felt good for her to finally be able to allow someone into her personal space, something that had taken her years to achieve. She was still struggling with trust issues, and probably always would, but the handsome man standing beside her was certainly helping her along in her healing.

Maria hugged her daughter close, grateful to her Heavenly Father for giving her her youngest child back. She caressed Alexia's dark tresses, thinking that the young woman was looking much healthier today than she had since her return. Maria had been concerned that attending Mass might be too difficult for her daughter, making her feel guilty for the life she had been involved in, but her fears seemed to have dissipated. Beverly had worked hard to help Alexia overcome her guilt, helping the young woman to see that she had not chosen the life she had lived – it had been forced on her.

Maria smiled wistfully as she looked around at her family. Each of her children was wearing a smile, especially her eldest. She watched the interaction between Marco and Beverly, pleased with how their relationship seemed to be progressing. Beverly seemed to be bringing Marco out of his shell, and it was obvious that Marco was doing the same for her.

Suddenly, a child's squeal pierced through the mumbling crowd.

"A'tonio!"

The Lopez family looked around for the source of the high-pitched sound, smiling when they saw Corrie Marks wiggling to get down from the arms of an older man that Marco recognized as her grandfather. The little girl was determined to get to her friend.

"Well, hello there, Corrie," Marco announced, kneeling down to look at the young girl eye to eye.

Corrie gave him a bashful grin, then rushed over to the place where Antonio was standing. Marco stood up, extending his hand to the smiling gentleman who had just entered the restaurant with the excited little girl.

"I'm Marco Lopez, Chet Kelly's partner at 51's. We met at Corrie's birthday party last year," he said, shaking hands with Greg.

"Yes, I remember. Chet and Caroline should be along soon. I believe you all had a rough shift, huh?" Greg responded, noting the dark circles beneath the eyes of the tired lineman.

"That we did, sir." Marco turned slightly, introducing the Marks' to his family, including Beverly. When he turned back around, he was caught up in Mrs. Marks embrace.

"Thank you, Marco. Thank you again for helping save our girls," she whispered. "I just can't say it enough."

"I'm glad we were there that day, ma'am. I really am. And I, uh, I just want to say that Caroline has been such a blessing to Chet. He and I are best friends and…," Marco hesitated, wondering if perhaps he was about to say more than he should. Deciding that Chet's future family needed to know, he pushed ahead. "Well, he was having an episode of self-doubt, considering quitting the department, until Caroline and Corrie came into his life. I've never seen him happier than he is now. They've been so good for him."

"That goes both ways; he's been good for them, too," Mim added. She looped her arm around her husband's elbow, leaning her head against his shoulder. "We already love him like a son."

Marco looked out the large window and smiled. "Speaking of Chet and Caroline…"

Greg and Mim turned around to look in the direction Marco had been looking.

"There they are," Mim said.

Greg patted Marco on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Marco."

"LOPEZ," the hostess called out.

Marco nodded his head at Greg, then turned to follow his family to their seats.

Greg retrieved Corrie, grabbing her hand to prevent her from joining the Lopez family during their lunch. "C'mon, honey, Mommy and Mr. Chet just got here."

"Mizzer Phet!" The child called out, running towards her future step-father as he held the door open for Caroline.

"Hey there, ladybug," he said, picking the little girl up and resting her on his hip. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," she said, wrapping her pudgy arms around his neck.

Mim batted her eyes, forcing back the tears. No one would ever replace her son, but Chet was doing a great job of filling in for the deceased young father. She reached for Greg's hand, feeling the slight tremble in his fingers. She knew he was thinking the same thing.

"I think congratulations are in order, right?" Greg said, extending his hand to the curly haired man.

"Yes, sir, thank you."

Mim didn't offer her hand; she preferred to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Welcome to the family, Chet. Greg and I couldn't be happier."

"Thank you, ma'am. I promise to do everything I can to take care of Caroline and Corrie." He looked at the woman who was standing beside him and wrapped his free arm around her waist. "I want to make them as happy as they've made me."

Corrie, tired of feeling left out of the grown-up conversation, placed her hands on Chet's cheeks and guided his face toward hers. "Mizzer Phet, I gonna go to dizzy land."

Chet widened his blue eyes, trying to share in Corrie's excitement without laughing at her choice of words. "You are? Wow, that's gonna be fun, ladybug."

Mim chuckled as she gave Caroline a hug. "I hope you're writing down these little mispronunciations of hers. They're so cute."

"Ohhh, you have no idea," Caroline replied, exchanging glances with Chet. She leaned in closer to Mim. "You should hear her tell Chet she wants to dance The Hustle, or hear her say firetruck," she snickered.

"Ohhh," Mim laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. "I think I know where you're going…."

"MARKS."

"That's us," Greg stated, as he guided his family, including their newest member, towards the back of the restaurant. This day was turning out to be a great one.

E!

Somewhere in the recesses of Johnny's subconscious, he heard a knocking sound. Pushing through the fogginess of his dream world, he finally emerged with a groan. "Damn," he muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position. He heard the sound again.

"A'right! I'm comin', I'm comin'."

Roy turned to his left, scanning the parking lot. The white Rover was still parked where he had left it earlier, so he knew that Johnny hadn't left, at least not driving himself. He jerked his head back to face the door when he heard movement inside the apartment.

When the locking mechanisms were disengaged, a very sleepy looking John Gage peered out the door at him.

"You okay?"

"Roy?" Johnny asked, arching an eyebrow, squinting at his partner. "What's goin' on?"

He held up a bowl of fresh chicken salad. "Um, Jo sent this over. You know how she loves to cook for her surrogate brother," he said, forcing a smile that was not reciprocated by his partner. "Ahem, may I come in?"

Without a mumbled grunt, Johnny opened the door and stepped out of the way. "Sure," he groused, yawning.

Roy took his usual seat on Johnny's sofa. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore. Sleepy. Why?"

Roy wanted to roll his eyes at the absurdity of the question, but he refrained. "I'm worried about you. I mean, we're friends, aren't we?"

Johnny snorted, wishing he could unburden himself of his guilt. Yet, even the sight of his best friend sitting in his living room, asking him if something was wrong, wasn't enough to allow him to open up. "Yea… I guess."

Roy realized that he wasn't going to be able to get anything out of Johnny by using small talk. So, he went straight for the jugular.

"Look, yesterday you told me that I had offended you. I'm here to make things right. I don't know what I did, but whatever it is… I'm sorry."

Johnny took a seat in his recliner, waving a limp hand in Roy's direction. "Ahh, 's a'right."

"No… No, it isn't. Johnny, what'd I do?" Roy stared intently at Johnny, taking notice that the younger man was avoiding making eye contact.

Johnny felt his nostrils flare and the backs of his eyes beginning to sting. Here was a chance to come clean to his best friend, but should he? No, he couldn't, not now. He couldn't handle seeing the disappointment he knew he would see on Roy's face. It would be the same look Kizzy had given him, and there was no way his heart could take it.

"Like I said before, Roy," Johnny responded, staring coldly at his best friend, hiding behind the stoic facade. "You didn't do anything."

Roy slapped his thighs, standing up in frustration. "What the hell do you mean by nothing? Was I SUPPOSED to do something and didn't?"

"Just drop it."

"No! No I won't drop it, Johnny." Roy watched his friend, wondering what was going on inside the younger man's head. The old adage, 'still waters run deep', ran through his mind. Johnny was sitting as still as Roy had ever seen him, never raising his voice. "I can't fix what I don't even know is broken."

Johnny lowered his head, allowing his voice to speak in a low mumble. "Sometimes the one that's broken… can't be fixed."

"What?"

"Nothin', Roy. I think you should go home and give your wife and kids a hug. You never know what you've got until it's gone." Johnny stood slowly, his body still achy. "Give 'em my best. Tell 'em I love 'em. I always will," he said somberly as he walked over to the front door.

"Johnny… You're scaring me." Roy saw the depression and something else that shadowed his partner's face. Was it hopelessness? "Whatever's going on… I want to help. Please, don't you trust me?" Roy pleaded, genuinely afraid that he was losing his best friend.

"You can't help me, Roy. You just can't."

"But Iris can, huh?" Roy stated, more than asked.

"Leave her out of this," Johnny said sternly, his hand poised on the doorknob.

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Roy knew he was pushing Johnny's buttons, but anger and frustration had always seemed to loosen Johnny's lips. Roy was hoping for the same reaction now.

"I said… leave her out of this. It isn't about her."

Roy eyeballed his partner suspiciously, pushing the younger man even further. "But you are seeing her, aren't you?"

Johnny narrowed his eyes. "Seein' her? What are you talkin' about?"

"Look, Dixie said she called a lady friend of yours to come pick you up at the hospital. Then I see Iris dropping you off because she 'saw you walking home on her way to work'," he said, using his fingers to form the invisible quotes in the air. "But the shop isn't open today. It's Sunday and Mike and I drove by there just to see for ourselves. So, she lied about going to work, and now you're standing here lying about your relationship with her."

Johnny felt his hands begin to tremble in anger. Roy was jumping to conclusions and he was dead wrong.

"Hey, I'm a modern man. It's the '70's and…," Roy stepped closer to the door, knowing that Johnny wanted him to leave, but he wasn't leaving until he had said what was on his mind. In one last desperate attempt to make Johnny open up, he made a couple of comments that he would later regret. "Any relationship that leaves you feeling morbid like this… It's a toxic relationship." He stood nose to nose with his partner. "I hope a quick roll in the hay with an older woman is worth what it's doing to you."

Forgetting his injuries, Johnny grabbed two handfuls of Roy's shirt and slammed the heavier man down on the floor, both of them landing with a thud that shook the entire apartment. He was incensed by Roy's disrespectful comment.

"Don't you EVER say anything like that about Iris again!" He drew back his fist, pounding it into his partner's jaw. When he pulled his hand back, he saw the blood running down from the corner of Roy's mouth.

"Is Jo good in bed? Huh? Is she?" He asked, attempting to slam his fist into Roy's face a second time.

Roy, stunned at the sudden change in his partner's demeanor, had been caught off guard by the first punch. But he was ready for the second one, blocking it with his own arm. Johnny quickly recovered, ignoring the pain in his back, and leaned forward, pressing his forearm against Roy's throat. Feeling his air supply dwindling, Roy fought back, reaching up and wrapping both hands around Johnny's throat, constricting his airway. He felt the jolt of another blow as Johnny's fist connected again with his head, but the lack of air was making Johnny's eyes bulge and his face turn red. Eventually, Roy gained the upper hand. He thrust his hips upwards, bucking off the slighter man, and rolling the two of them closer to the front door. He sat on his partner, pinning him to the floor as the lack of oxygen turned Johnny's face from red to purple.

Johnny clawed at Roy's hands, trying to remove them from around his throat. He began to see stars floating in front of his eyes as the room started to darken. He tried to cough, but there was no exchange of air with Roy's fingers digging into his throat. Then, without warning, Roy released his hold.

"Ahu…Ugh, ahua…" Johnny gagged and coughed while Roy pushed himself to his feet, running the back of his hand across his bloody lip.

"I don't know… what the hell's wrong with you, partner… but you better get it… straightened out before you come back on shift," Roy panted, gasping for breath from the fight. He opened the door, stepping over the threshold, then turned back around. Johnny was coughing on his hands and knees, struggling to stand up. When he did, he lumbered over to the place where Roy stood.

"I ain't…ahua… goin' back on shift, you as… ahua, asshole," he said, slamming the door in Roy's face. He quickly locked it, knowing that when his words sank in, Roy would be trying to get back into his apartment. He was right. He felt his hot tears burning his cheeks as he slowly slid his bruised back down the door, landing in a crumpled pile on the hard wood floor. "I'm s-sorry, R-'oy… Oh… God… God he'p m-me…," he sobbed, feeling the vibrations from Roy's hand banging against the exterior of the door, and the spasms of pain returning.

Outside the apartment, Roy alternated between slamming his flattened palm against the door and twisting the doorknob in an attempt to get back inside. "Johnny… Johnny, open up!" He pleaded, feeling guilty for what he had done and said. "C'mon, man. I'm… I'm sorry… I just… Please, Johnny… I didn't mean it… I just… C'mon, Johnny… Please?"

It took nearly twenty minutes for the banging and pleading to cease from outside his apartment door. Johnny knew that Roy was probably waiting for him in the parking lot, but he didn't care. He would wait as long as it took for his partner to leave the premises. After all, he had nothing but time. He would wait for Roy to leave, and then he would head out in search of Lily.

Eventually, Roy gave up, knowing he needed to get home and explain his injuries to Joanne. He knew that telling her the truth about his uncharacteristic outburst was the right thing to do, and he also knew that he would be heavily chastised by her for his actions. Thinking back on what he had said to Johnny, the man who was supposed to be his best friend, he knew he deserved whatever Joanne said to him. He used his tongue to feel around the tender area of his swollen lip. 'I deserved this, too,' he thought, as he drove away from Johnny's apartment. 'Just don't do anything stupid, okay, Junior?"