A/N: To everyone who left me a review from the previous chapter, please know how much I appreciate you contacting me. I haven't been able to respond to the reviews (probably me, not my computer) but I wanted you all to know how grateful I am.

Warnings: Extreme language and depictions of violence. Also, if you are looking for the 'detailed' version of Marco and Beverly's activities, you'll have to go to AO3 or WWOMB. The scene has been edited out of this version in order to keep it at a "T" rating.

Chapter 26

Marco pried one eye open, grimacing at the nosy tendrils of the dawning sun as they snaked through the blinds in his bedroom. Turning onto his side away from the window, he once again snuggled closer to Beverly, spooning her sleeping form. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo that lingered on her hair from the afternoon before. He lightly kissed her neck just behind her earlobe, laying his arm across her abdomen and deftly slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his tee shirt that she was wearing. He smiled as he remembered how she looked wearing his clothing, claiming that his boxers were more comfortable than her own delicate underwear.

A soft purring sound emanated from deep within her throat as his fingers stroked the bare skin below her naked breasts. Encouraged by her obvious enjoyment of his touch, Marco wet his lips then pressed them gently around her earlobe as his body began to respond to her nearness. He worked his other arm beneath her, enveloping her in a hug that drew her even closer to his chest.

Beverly, her mind suspended between sleep and wakefulness, felt the masculine body behind her, pinning her against the muscular form. What had begun as a light touch suddenly felt very threatening. His strong arms were wrapped around her midsection and his breathing was hot along her neck. Her eyes shot open wide, but her brain was still too muddled to comprehend where she was at the moment, and fear from her past was suddenly resurrected, stealing her breath straight out of her lungs.

"N-nuh," she grunted groggily, struggling to free herself from her unknown assailant.

"Baby?" Marco's husky voice questioned.

"S-'top," she said, struggling to wriggle free from his grasp, her voice getting louder as she protested further. "STOP!"

"Beverly!" he said more forcefully, throwing one leg over her hips in an effort to restrain her kicking legs. He didn't want her to injure herself as she tried to flee. "It's me… Marco… Wake up!"

All he could think about was waking her up, forgetting what he had been told during Lexi's recovery – holding her close to his body would increase the terror, not soothe it. He twisted the two of them so that his body weight was pressing her into the mattress. His face was mere inches from hers, her unseeing eyes wide with trepidation.

She had to get away from the strong grip. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but a large hand clamped down, covering the lower half of her face and sealing her lips.

Marco continued his efforts to wake her up; he had to stop her from hurting herself, hurting him, or waking up the neighbors. He did not want to have to explain this to the police, should they receive an emergency call to his apartment.

"C'mon, baby… Beverly…," he grunted as he struggled against her resistance.

Beverly bit down on the fleshy skin just below Marco's little finger.

"Argh!" he groaned. "Owe!"

His painful cry brought her completely out of her fogginess. She saw the contorting face hovering above her, finally realizing who it belonged to.

She released the bite, offering an end to the agony she was creating. "Mumph!" Her cry was muffled by his hand that remained firmly in place until he had determined that she was fully awake and aware of what was happening.

"Sshhhh, it's me, baby. It's me, Marco. Don't be afraid. You're safe."

Marco continued to offer her reassurances of her safety, even though he was restraining her. He saw the recognition on her face when she released her grip on his aching skin. He eased his throbbing hand away from her mouth, using it to wipe the tears that were streaming from the corners of her eyes.

"Shhh, it's okay sweetie," he crooned, caressing her face. "My bad… My fault. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, Bev. I… I didn't know… what else to do," he struggled to explain his actions, knowing that for her, being restrained was just as frightening as what she feared might happen to her at the hands of a stranger.

Beverly's face melted into his hand, embarrassment and shame coloring her face. She thought this part of her recovery was behind her, thought her demons had been contained and sent back to the hell from which they had been born. But now she feared she was wrong. "I'm… s…sorry."

"No, no… Shhh," he continued his soothing ministrations. "Deep… slow… breaths, Bev."

Several moments later, Marco rolled over onto his side, pulling her slowly with him until she was resting her head on his bare chest. She shivered, trembling from the adrenaline rush that was beginning to wear off as she continued to sniffle, her respiration and heart rates slowly returning to normal while he lovingly stroked her hair. When she seemed to have regained her composure, he kissed the top of her head.

"You okay, now?"

She nodded, pushing away from him, unable to look into his handsome dark eyes, fearing what she would see there. Pity? Anger? Frustration? Rejection? It didn't matter. She couldn't handle it; no matter which negative emotions might be lingering on the face of the man she loved.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, searching the room for her discarded clothing. She spotted her garments laying across the back of a chair and felt a sense of urgency to flee. But when she tried to stand up, she felt the tee shirt being tugged by Marco.

"Just relax, Babe."

She sniffled, running her fingers beneath her eyes. "I, uh, I need to get dressed."

"Why? You're off today and so am I," he said, scooting over to the edge of the bed to sit beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"I need to, ah, to go… I'll, um… I'll call a cab," she said, reaching for the bedside phone.

Marco placed his hand over hers, stopping her from making the call. "Don't go, baby."

There was no way he was going to allow her to leave in her current state of mind. He grasped her hand, encouraged when she didn't pull it away from him. He held it tightly, feeling the trembling beneath his stroking thumb. "Talk to me, Bev."

"I'm still so… messed up," she rasped, remembering Johnny using very similar words to describe himself. She had challenged his self-reflection, and she knew Marco was about to do the same thing to her.

"No you aren't. You and I both know what happened just now." He waited for her to speak, but when she didn't, he continued, guiding her hand back to her lap and away from the telephone. "We were both exhausted; we slept deeply and you had a difficult time waking up. You felt me behind you, and you… you've never slept over here before, so… you didn't recognize where you were, and… I mean, that makes sense, doesn't it?"

Beverly nodded her agreement, her face hanging downward.

"See," Marco said, pulling her into a sideways hug. "I have been listening to you, especially when you were talking to Lexi… And Johnny, even though I kind of blew it just now by holding you down. I'm really sorry, baby."

Beverly turned into him slightly, wrapping both arms around his waist. He had become her rock, her anchor, but would he still want her?

He ran his hand down her mussed up hair, once more kissing her on top of her head. "I love you so much, Beverly. I'll keep you safe… I promise. I'll never try to restrain you again."

"I… love you… too."

Silence filled the room as the two sat beside each other, neither one knowing exactly what to say. "I love ALL of you, Bev. Your past… your present… Everything."

She inhaled a deep ragged breath. She thought about the short private conversation they had shared in the hospital hallway. She had told him that she wanted to show Johnny her branding scar; she had needed to make a point to the distraught young man. Now, perhaps it was time to show Marco the rest of her marks, too. He had told her many times that he could handle her past, but he had never actually seen the permanent reminders of what she had endured.

She gulped as her shaky fingers clutched the tee shirt she had slept in and began slowly pulling it upwards.

"Baby," he said, unaware of what she was doing. "You're still upset… We don't have to-"

"I need to show you… all of my past," she said slowly turning her back to him.

Marco felt the lump lodge in his throat. While they had only made love twice, both times had been in complete darkness. She hadn't wanted him to see her naked. Now he knew why. "Are you… sure?"

"Yes… and if you never want to… see me again, then I-"

Marco reached up to her shoulders, slowly helping her pull the cotton garment over her head. "That will never happen. Never… No matter what," he offered, seeing the various scars, stripes, and burn marks that covered her bare back as the shirt was removed.

Beverly hung her head, slowly turning her torso to allow him a better view of her disfigurements that were just as prevalent on her abdomen and breasts as they were on her back. "I'm… sor-"

"Sshhh," he said, using his thumb to silence her apology. "I'm sorry for the pain you've endured. I wish it had never happened to you, but… It's what brought you into my life, and for that… I'll always be grateful."

Beverly felt her eyes burning as her hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. She felt the crook of his index finger lifting her chin. She closed her eyes as he lowered his face to hers, kissing away the salty streams as they streaked down her face. Slowly, his lips made their way to hers and they lightly touched. He waited, unsure if she wanted more. When she puckered her plump lips for a second quick kiss, then returned it with a deeper, more passionate one, he responded likewise. Their lips parted further and tongues danced as their hands touched, caressed, and soothed away the fears and worries.

Passion and love had enveloped them, united them, leaving them collapsed in exhausted bliss.

E!

Roy sat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee while Joanne prepared breakfast. They had developed a routine on his days off. After the kids left for school, Joanne cooked breakfast for the two of them, and he cleaned the kitchen afterwards. It was his way of showing her how much he appreciated her, and it allowed them to spend quality time together. It had proven to be a great way for them to keep open communications between them. After the events of the last couple of days, Roy was grateful for the four-day weekend his shift was experiencing.

"Do you think he's okay?" Joanne asked, setting a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him.

"Yes… I peeked in on him when I first got up," Roy said, looking at her sheepishly. "He was snoring."

"Good, he needs his rest."

Just as Joanne sat down, the telephone rang.

"I'll get it," Roy said, pushing away from the kitchen table. He picked up the receiver. "DeSoto residence."

"Roy, it's Hank."

"Hi, Cap. He's still asleep," Roy stated immediately, knowing that their captain was calling for an update on Johnny.

"Good… What kind of night did you have?"

Roy snickered. He knew what Hank meant, but he still thought it sounded funny. "He slept through the night and didn't wet the bed. He should be getting up soon for his next feeding," he said, still grinning.

"Oh, you're a riot, DeSoto. Um… Do you think it would be okay if, ah… Well, I talked to the chief yesterday, and... We both want to visit with John and… lay out the plan for the next couple of weeks."

Roy grimaced; he didn't like the sound of Hank's voice. "Is it bad?"

"No, no… We really just want to make sure that… that John is alright and…"

"That he's fit for duty?"

Hank hesitated on the other end of the line. "Well… that he will be fit for duty before he returns."

Roy felt defensive for a moment, then realized that Hank was in an awkward situation with the chief. They hadn't really gotten along well in years. "Yea… I get it. Why don't you come over around lunch? We'll have some sandwiches, or something," he suggested, casting a hopeful glance at his wife.

Joanne nodded her agreement.

"Thanks, Pal. We'll see you in a few hours."

Johnny stepped into the kitchen, looking disheveled in the faded jeans and tee shirt he had thrown on. His face was clouded by a scowl, having overheard Roy's side of the conversation. "Cap?"

Roy turned around, looking into Johnny's worried face. "Yea… He's…" Roy didn't want to say it, but he wanted to be honest with his friend. "He and, ah… McConnike are coming over for lunch."

Johnny sighed, fixing himself a cup of black coffee; he knew his way around the DeSotos' kitchen.

Joanne and Roy exchanged another quick glance.

"There's plenty of eggs and bacon. I'll fix you some fresh toast," Joanne said, getting up from the table.

"Naw… Eat your breakfast while it's hot, Jo… I'll fix my own toast," Johnny replied, dropping a slice of bread into the toaster. He added a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a slice of bacon to his plate while he waited for the bread to toast.

In short order, Johnny sat down with a plate of hot food. He sipped his coffee then looked over at the DeSotos. "So… How much trouble am I in?"

"I don't think you are," Roy answered, watching Johnny spread grape jelly on his toast.

"C'mon, Roy," he said, taking a big bite of the toast and jelly, an act that never stopped him from continuing with a conversation. "We both know how this'll go down. I'll get suspended, or…," he gulped, pushing the bread down his tightening throat. "Or… terminated."

"Oh, Johnny, don't say that," Joanne said, patting his shoulder as she stood up with her nearly empty plate in her hand, heading for the sink.

"It didn't sound like it," Roy added. "Cap… He sounded like he was just… you know, worried about you."

"Whatever," Johnny said, waving Roy off.

They both continued eating in silence. Roy finished his coffee, casting an occasional glance at Johnny's plate. He was mentally taking note of how much the younger man consumed.

Johnny quickly ate his breakfast then headed for the sink to wash his dishes.

"I've got it," Joanne said, taking the plate from him. She had decided to wash the dishes herself, allowing her husband and his partner time to talk.

Johnny smiled at Joanne, passing his plate to her. "Thanks, Jo. I appreciate everything." He stretched his back then walked towards the hallway. "I'll get out of your way."

"Why don't the two of you get fresh coffee and sit out on the deck. It's a beautiful morning," Joanne said, picking up the coffee pot to warm their cups.

The two men looked at each other. There was still a lot that remained unsaid between them.

Roy lifted his eyebrows to question his partner.

"Sure," Johnny acquiesced, his response lacking his usual enthusiasm.

The two friends refilled their cups, then headed out the sliding glass doors to the DeSotos' deck, the same deck that Johnny and Roy had built together. Johnny walked over to the railing, leaning against it with his forearms. He set his cup down on the horizontal piece of wood, running his fingers across the nails, wincing when a sharp splinter slid beneath his fingernail. He hissed when he pulled it out, grumbling to himself. He waited for Roy to begin the conversation while he listened for a moment to the neighbor who was mowing his lawn, inhaling deeply the scent of freshly cut grass as he continued to pretend to inspect their handiwork along the railing. His nose twitched from the cut grass and he ran his sore finger beneath it before returning it to the nail nearest his coffee cup.

"Looks like everything's holdin' up well," Johnny commented, feeling the need to fill the obvious void between them. "No warpin' or nails raisin' up. They're still flush with the planks."

"Yea," Roy agreed, watching as the light morning breeze lifted a couple of tufts of Johnny's hair. He wondered if Johnny should cut it before the chief arrived. "The men who built it knew what they were doing."

Johnny snorted. "Or got lucky," he said, lifting his cup to his mouth.

"They're a good team."

"They were," Johnny clarified. "Things have changed."

Roy gulped. "Changed how?"

Johnny cut his eyes over at Roy, then returned his gaze to the DeSotos' pristine backyard. "Humph… Don't act stupid, Roy."

Roy felt his hackles rise. Johnny was doing it again, picking a fight. Roy, who normally thought before he spoke, was tired and frustrated. He tried to put himself in Johnny's place, but he couldn't understand why the younger man seemed to insist on pushing others away. He turned to his side, facing Johnny.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Johnny never budged, continuing to sip his coffee and stare at the slight bruise that was forming beneath his fingernail. He shifted his gaze to the neatly manicured backyard where his eyes rested on the tire swing that he and Roy had put up a few years earlier. The scratched earth beneath it was proof that Chris and Jenny were still enjoying it. "You better watch your language with the kids around."

"The children are in school, John… Except for the one I'm looking at right now," Roy stated, growing angrier each time his partner spoke.

The use of his formal first name let Johnny know that he was getting under Roy's skin. "What did you say?"

"You heard me… I'm looking at a grown man who's acting like a child. Why are you so pissed off at me?"

Johnny thought about the question for a long uncomfortable moment. Why was he being so nasty to the man who had been his best friend for years? Roy and the others had gone out of their way to retrieve him from the Unity Family, even after they knew the truth about his past.

Johnny hung his head, his shame pressing his shoulders downward. He watched his shadow disappear as gray clouds blocked out the sun. He gave Mother Nature a sarcastic snort as he considered how his mood seemed to match the weather. He shook his shaggy head slightly. "Shit, Roy… I dunno," he said, raking his hands through his hair. "I need to sit down."

"Be my guest," Roy said, waving his hand towards the chairs near them. "My home has always been your home," he said in a voice laced with contempt. "Guess that doesn't mean anything to you though, huh?"

Johnny plopped into a chair, looking up at Roy before he answered. "Yea... It means a lot to me… everything. But now you know who I really am," he began, hearing his own voice getting louder. "You know I'm just a royal fuck up."

"I know you're my partner, and I don't want anyone else beside me in the squad. When I'm on a rescue, I don't want anyone else working with me. I know that I felt a brotherly connection with you from the start. I know that my family adores you and my kids consider you to be their uncle. And… Johnny, you're the best friend I've ever had."

Johnny's jaw muscles began clenching and releasing. He hadn't expected this reaction from Roy.

"So why are you so angry with me? Johnny… What did I do? I can't apologize for something that I don't know I did."

Johnny shook his head, staring through the slats of the railing, never answering Roy's questions.

"Look, I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions about your relationship with Iris, but you have to admit, you made a comment about Joanne, too. So that should make us even." Roy waited for a response, but got nothing.

It took several moments before Johnny made any remarks. "You didn't do anything wrong, Roy. I did," Johnny said, pointing his middle finger at his own chest. "ME!"

Roy knew that Johnny wasn't referring to their fight. "Damn it, Johnny, what do I have to do to convince you that you didn't do anything wrong?"

"You can't… You CAN'T! I'm the one who has to look at myself in the mirror and... and I… hate what… I see." Johnny's voice cracked and he cleared his throat, his face turning crimson.

"Nothing has changed, except more of us know what happened to you when you were younger. Why is it that our knowledge changes how you feel about yourself?"

"It… doesn't," the younger man said, his voice husky. "I've always felt… like this. I guess, I was able to hide it better when you fellas didn't know. I wish you still didn't… didn't know how I messed up. You don't know what it's like to… to hate, no, no… to LOATHE yourself… and know that others hate you, too."

Roy took a seat beside Johnny. "No one else does, Johnny. No one." He searched his friend's face for some sense of understanding. He saw nothing. "Okay, so you didn't want any of us to know about Selma, but Johnny, it isn't something that you could've prevented. Hell, the goddamn president of the United States had a hard time stopping it," Roy swore, his own voice growing louder. He would probably get an earful from Joanne later on, if she had heard him.

"You weren't there… I… was," Johnny said, again pointing a finger at his own chest.

"And I thank God you survived it. My life would've been so different if you had tried to intervene and… and been killed. The field of paramedicine would be completely different. My family would be different." Roy gave Johnny a minute to consider what he was saying. "I'm sorry I made that lewd comment about you and Iris. I was mistaken about your relationship, and I'll always regret what I said. But something tells me that's not what's really bothering you. Johnny… Please tell me… What else did I do?"

Johnny shook his head once more. His defenses were waning. "Nothin', Roy. I a'ready told ya… You didn't do anything. I jus'… I've lost people who were close to me and it hurt like hell, a'right? I jus' don't… I don't wanna go through it again. I… can't."

"So you pushed me away, instead? That doesn't make sense."

Johnny inhaled deeply, trying his best to calm his growing temper. 'Why can't Roy just accept the truth?' he wondered. He rubbed his finger beneath his nose, pressing his lips into a thin line. When he was ready to speak, he chose his words carefully. "To me it does… I'd rather you cut ties with me because you're angry than… than because you… you despise me."

"Johnny… look at me." It took a moment for Johnny to comply. "I am NOT angry or disappointed in you. I don't despise you. If anything, I have even more admiration for you, now. I couldn't have gone through what you did when you were just a kid, and come out of it like you have. Your fortitude… Your resilience… is amazing. Nothing has to change between us, but you DO need to work on yourself. It's no different than what Cap went through with Carrigan. He got help and he's much better now. Will you do the same?"

Johnny leaned over, propping his elbows on his knees, running his fingers through his hair. "I dunno… There's no way it'll make things better. I mean, it won't bring Phillip… or Father Mitchell back, will it? It won't change the past. It won't help me face Kizzy... at the trial... knowing that... I'm the last person... who saw her son... alive and... and I did nothin'. Besides, I'll never be able to work as a paramedic anywhere again if Dr. Robertson documents that…," Johnny stopped himself, his heart suddenly pumping an icy sludge. He had almost let his true feelings slip out.

"If Dr. Robertson documents what?" Roy asked worriedly.

Johnny's face turned ashen, a sharp contrast to the bright red coloring that was quickly rising from his chest up to his neck. He felt nauseous, leaning his elbows on his knees. He stared down at the narrow spaces between the planks of wood that created the flooring, wishing he could somehow slither between them and disappear beneath the DeSotos' deck. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. He knew his partner was a very perceptive man. It was what made Roy DeSoto such a good paramedic, and the best friend Johnny had ever had. Using the tips of his slender fingers, Johnny rubbed his temples, hoping to massage away the headache he could feel pulsing in his brain. Never looking at Roy, he mumbled his response to the question he had been asked.

"Nothin'."

"No… say what you're thinking. If Dr. Robertson documents what?" When Johnny didn't answer, Roy felt his mouth go dry and his heart slam inside of his chest. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that caused bile to rise into the back of his throat. There was only a couple of things that the psychologist could document that might impact Johnny's career as a firefighter and paramedic.

Roy had to ask the question, even though he really didn't want to know the answer. He saw Johnny blinking his eyes rapidly, staring at the flooring of the deck and he knew he had to push forward. In a voice shaky and airy, he asked the question that had been on his mind for over twenty-four hours.

"Johnny… are you thinking about… killing yourself?"

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't lie to Roy.

"Roy… remember that run we went on, where the… the war vet thought he was… back in 'Nam? He was about to hurt his… his wife, and…"

"Yea," Roy agreed. "He thought our utility holsters on our belts were weapons."

Johnny slowly nodded his head, thinking about the wild-eyed look in the man's eyes during his flashback episode. "Well, I… I know how… how he musta felt. The last coupla' days… I've had these… these thoughts and images… coming into my head… I don't want 'em to… They just won't stop invadin'… and I can't… make 'em go away. Anyway, it's not about… killin' myself, but…" Johnny shook his head, halting his rambling words. There was no use trying to explain it to Roy, nor could he continue to justify his feelings. He scrubbed his face with his palms, releasing a sigh. He picked up his cup, slowly pouring the remnants of the coffee between the wooden cracks in the flooring, absently staring at the stream as he emptied the cup. "Yea… yea, it's crossed my mind."

"Ohmygod, Johnny… I'm sorry…" Roy reached out, gripping his friend's shoulder. "I… I didn't know you were… you were this… depressed."

Johnny bit his bottom lip, feeling uncomfortable as he continued to stare at the floor.

"How long?" Roy asked.

Johnny merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Is it the… flashbacks that make you… feel like doing something?" Roy felt inadequate in his current role. It was a strange feeling for him. He had never had difficulty talking to a suicidal patient, but when he was facing it with his best friend, he couldn't seem to get his words out.

"I dunno," Johnny groaned, resting his elbows on his knees again. He pressed his forehead against his hands. "I shouldn't've said anything… Jus' forget it… 'kay?"

Roy's eyes surveyed his distraught partner, wondering exactly what he might be contemplating. His training came back to him, and he was able to move forward with his line of questioning. "Nu-uh… No can do," he said, his voice firm.

"Aahh, damn it!" Johnny swore, angry with himself for saying too much. "Can't you let anything go?"

"I can let things go that need to be let go of… This isn't one of those things." He waited a moment to gauge Johnny's reaction. He saw the younger man's chest moving rapidly as his respiration rate increased. "What have you thought about doing?"

"Don't wanna talk… 'bout it anymore," Johnny exclaimed, standing up and returning to his stance beside the railing.

Roy slowly followed him, trying to decide how to help his friend open up. "You don't… trust me much, do you?"

"It's not about you, Roy," Johnny said, looking at nothing in particular.

"Sure it is. If I lose my… best friend because I… I wasn't good enough to confide in, then…"

"I know the game you're playin'," Johnny spoke up. "I've had the same trainin' as you." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm not your patient…," he glanced back at Roy for a brief moment. "It's not your responsibility to rescue me from myself, a'right?"

"No," Roy said softly. "No, it isn't alright. You're right when you say that you aren't my patient. You ARE my best friend, though, my partner." He felt a scratchiness beginning in the back of his throat. "If you won't let me help you… then will you at least help me?"

Johnny released a nervous laugh. "Sure… Whatcha need, pally?"

"I need to know what went wrong… between us. I… I want to know why… you didn't tell me… how you were feeling."

Johnny gave a sarcastic snort. "What was I s'pose to say? Hey, Roy, I'm thinkin' 'bout hangin' myself, or cuttin' my wrists, or takin' a handful of pills, so how 'bout talkin' me out of it, huh? Nope, too damn… uncomfortable."

"So's dying by your own hand," Roy shot back.

Johnny leaned his head back, laughing inappropriately. "You're right, Roy… You're right… 'Cause I'd prob'ly fuck that up, too." Johnny's left cheek tugged upwards slightly.

Roy's face remained serious. He knew that Johnny's uncharacteristic behavior was his way of masking his true feelings.

"Do you still have that old antique pistol?" Roy asked, concerned about Johnny returning to his apartment in his current state of mind. He had only agreed to stay with the DeSotos for a day. He was already remaining beyond the time frame Dr. Buchanan had requested. Roy knew he had no way of stopping Johnny if he really wanted to return home.

Johnny rolled his eyes at Roy. "Don't worry, pally… I'm not gonna do it." He looked over at Roy, seeing the shock on his round ruddy face. How could he tell Roy that the pistol wasn't just an antique that he had collected; it was a means of self-protection from a gang of hooded bigots hiding in the shadows for the last ten years. Not wanting to tell Roy the truth, he expertly dodged the issue by shifting the focus of the conversation. "But if you think you hafta tell Cap… then… go ahead," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Then it'll all be over. I'll lose my job and…"

"No…," Roy said, turning to face Johnny. "No, I'm not gonna tell Cap. But Johnny, you do need to talk to Dr. Robertson about this. I…," his own voice broke amid his emotions. "I can't… lose you… like this... pl-please?"

Johnny swallowed hard, looking over at Roy's bloodshot blue eyes. He didn't see judgment or hatred there. He saw worry, concern… and brotherly love shimmering in the pools welling up along Roy's lower lids. He felt his bottom lip begin to quiver and his chin wrinkled. "Roy, I… I don't wanna die… I jus'… I don't wanna live right now. Does that make sense?"

"Yea… You're facing a difficult journey. The trial will be rough and... and seeing that place all over again... It's going to bring back some pretty horrific memories, Johnny. I may not have been in Selma, but I know what it's like to be in a place where there seems to be no way out. I was there once myself, remember?"

Johnny turned back to the railing. "Yea… O' course, I remember."

"I had friends who helped me, but… it was my best friend who… who basically forced me to face the truth… because he… he cared about me and my family."

Johnny nodded his head slightly, thinking about how worried he had been about Roy when the DeSotos' marriage seemed to be beyond repair.

"But… we're gonna help you get through this. I promise… Johnny, hurting yourself… killing yourself… It's a permanent solution to a… ugh!" Roy felt completely helpless. He knew that there was nothing he could say to make Johnny change his mind, certainly not the old worn out adage. He blew out his breath and decided to take a different strategy.

"Okay, I won't patronize you, alright? Yes, we're both adults and we both know that… Ahem," he hesitated, clearing his throat before he could force the words out. "Suicide IS an option, but Johnny, it's literally the LAST option."

Johnny pressed his lips together firmly. The word 'suicide' seemed to be just as difficult for Roy to say as it was for Johnny to hear. He felt the backs of his eyes beginning to sting and his throat started to itch.

"Johnny, please promise me that… that you'll try everything… every other possible option first… and that… you'll call me before you… do… it. Please?" Roy was trying hard to validate Johnny's feelings, removing any judgment from the conversation.

Johnny thought about Roy's words, looked again at the sincerity on his face. He had expected Roy to treat him like a kid. Instead, Roy was reasoning with him. He wasn't avoiding the subject, uncomfortable though it was. Johnny considered Roy's request carefully. He knew that if he could survive a few more months, just until he could get through the trial, then perhaps it really would be over. Was there any possibility that he could get his life back then?

"Please, Johnny… Please trust us to help you get through this… Trust me… please?" Roy felt his lower lip beginning to tremble. He had faced many challenges in his career as a paramedic, but he had never felt a tidal wave of fear washing over him like he did at this moment. Johnny's life was at risk, and Roy was terrified of making a mistake with his partner.

Johnny felt his emotional wall crumbling. His body began to tremble and he started gasping and coughing. It was all so overwhelming. Thoughts that he had sworn he would never verbalize to another living soul had just escaped from the fortress where he had held them captive for so long. And now that those words had been spoken, they could never be retracted. He knew that his relationship with Roy would never be the same, even if he returned to work at 51's and made it through the trial. Nothing would ever be the same between them.

"Johnny, tell me… What could happen that would make this worth… dying for?"

Johnny looked over at Roy. If he was ever going to say the words; if he ever wanted Roy to truly understand what had brought him to this point in his life, the time was now. He swallowed hard, then used his tongue to wet his lips. He lowered his head, squeezed his eyes closed, and took a deep breath.

"I'd die… a thousand times… to keep those filthy bastards… from gettin' to you and your… family, Roy," he said, his words fading into a husky whisper.

Roy felt his world tilt. "What?"

Johnny sighed heavily; he had to make Roy understand. "They threatened my family… That's why… I had to stay away… from my parents… I never…," he hiccupped, his breath catching in his throat. Telling Roy was more difficult than he had imagined. "I never thought… 'bout y'all 'til… Roy," he croaked out, his brown eyes finally connecting with Roy's misty blue ones. "I can't let 'em… h-hurt my f-family… My 51 family… and… you, Jo… and the… k-kids."

Johnny thought he would fall when his knees began to buckle. Roy saw what was happening and reached out to support his best friend. Johnny's body was suddenly wracked with gut-wrenching sobs that had been building up inside of him for a decade. He lost all control of his emotions. He had tried so hard for so many years to remain stoic in the face of danger. He had managed to convince himself that his parents were safe because of the distance between him and them. But when William Waite had resurfaced, and the detectives from Selma had managed to track him down in Los Angeles, he knew that the Ku Klux Klan could just as easily find him, too. Now he had a much larger family to be concerned about, and he knew he couldn't live with the guilt if any one of his friends were to be injured by the KKK. He had always placed the life of a victim ahead of his own, and he had the physical scars to prove it. He knew, without a doubt, that he would gladly sacrifice his life in order to save the lives of his friends. He knew that he was capable of taking his own life if it meant that his friends would be safe from the hideous secret society that he had feared for the last ten years.

"W-who, Johnny?"

Johnny felt his face contort in emotional agony as he considered the possibilities. The KKK was ruthless. He truly didn't want to die, but he wouldn't even hesitate in order to keep them away… especially from the DeSotos. His cheeks burned, his breath quickened. He felt his body caving beneath the mental strain of the load he had been carrying around for far too long. When he felt Roy's warm hand cup the back of his neck, he collapsed against the older man's chest. He had reached the end of his rope and Roy was his knot.

"The… K-Klan," he wept as unwanted images from the nightmare of the previous night, images of his parents hanging along the edge of the Alabama River, once again flooded his mind. He held on tight to Roy's shirt, feeling the older man pulling him into an embrace. Johnny screwed his eyes shut, willing the terrifying images to disappear. But instead, the bodies morphed into two smaller bodies hanging lifeless with their necks bent at odd angles. And instead of Kizzy's wailing cries of anguish, it was the high-pitched piercing screams of Joanne DeSoto that filled his ears, tormenting his soul.

"No, no, no, no," Johnny chanted, curling his body into a tight ball as Roy tried to calm him.

"Easy, Pally… No one's here but you and me… They aren't here. They can't hurt you… or us… Deep breaths… slow breaths… stay with me, Johnny," Roy coaxed, rubbing soothing circles along Johnny's shivering damp back. His own cheeks grew hot and moist as he held his friend. Johnny had been his best friend for several years, but he was only just beginning to understand how much he and his family meant to his partner.

Realizing that the situation was much direr than he had ever imagined, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to help Johnny get through the trial. Behind the macho bravado-filled façade that Johnny normally displayed, a part of him had never left the river's edge on that long ago March morning; a part of John Gage had died along with Phillip Campbell and Father Mitchell. Perhaps when Johnny returned to Selma, he would be able to close that dark chapter in his life. As he held Johnny's trembling body in his arms, allowing him to weep on his shoulder, Roy silently prayed that when Johnny returned to Los Angeles after the trial, that he would bring back the part of him that had been missing for so long.

Johnny felt his body being lowered to the deck, knowing that Roy was holding him, protecting him from the images that Johnny knew weren't real. Yet, his eyes were seeing them, his nostrils were smelling the musty stale earthy scent of the river, and his ears were hearing the screams of inconsolable mothers. He felt Roy's touch grounding him, Roy's voice pulling him back from the scene, and slowly the sounds, smells, and images faded into nothingness.

Roy felt the heat of the California sun shining down on them, realizing that the cool shadows of the low-hanging ominous clouds had been pushed back by the bright morning sun. He felt Johnny's shaking beginning to dissipate and his breathing began slowing down.

"Atta boy, Junior," he whispered, continuing his efforts to settle his terror-stricken partner. Roy had never considered that Johnny had been thinking of killing himself as a way of protecting his station family. The thought of him losing his best friend, of Johnny sacrificing himself to keep Roy and his family safe was more than he could bear. He leaned his head back against the railing, frustrated with himself for becoming so angry with Johnny over recent weeks.

Johnny finally released his white-knuckled grip on Roy's shirt, using his own tee-shirt to dry his face. "S-sor-ry, 'oy," he said in a staccato voice.

"Don't be," Roy responded, scrubbing his own face with the palms of his hands. "We're gonna get through this… I promise." Roy locked eyes with Johnny before continuing. He had to make sure that the upset man was truly listening to what he was about to say. "You aren't facing any of this alone. And when you feel like you can't go any further… The fellas and I will carry you."

Joanne, standing close enough to the barely opened kitchen window, watched and listened to what was happening on the deck. Although she couldn't hear everything that they were saying, their body language spoke loudly and clearly. Both men were crying and hugging, not the normal behavior of most ordinary firemen. Then again, Roy and Johnny weren't ordinary firemen. When she saw both men crying as they dropped to their knees, she pulled a paper towel off the roll beside the sink to dry her own eyes. Whatever was happening between them, it had to be cathartic. She watched from the kitchen window until she saw them pull apart. She quickly tried to regain her composure, when a sudden knock on the door jolted her.

She tried to make herself presentable before answering.

"Chet?"

"Hey, Joanne… Is…," he stopped, seeing her red swollen eyes. "Jo, what's wrong?" he asked, entering the living room. "Is it Johnny?"

Joanne used the backs of her hands to dry a fresh round of tears. "They're… Roy and Johnny are… talking on the… deck… and…"

"Ohmygod," Chet mumbled, looking past her, trying to see what was happening between his two friends. He stared through the sliding glass door, seeing the two men sitting beside the railing, embracing. Johnny's forehead was resting on Roy's shoulder, and Roy had one hand clamping the back of Johnny's neck and the other was rubbing soothing circles on his back. The sight made Chet's heart leap into his throat.

Joanne sniffled, trying to find her voice. "Um… give 'em… a minute… okay?"

"Sure…" Chet pulled out a bar stool and took a seat, his face somber. "I'm worried, Jo."

Joanne reached for a cup from the cabinet. "Me, too," she said, pouring him a cup of black coffee.

Chet accepted the proffered cup, offering her a gentle smile. "Thanks… I came by to… I wanted to ask Johnny to… to be one of my groomsmen at the wedding."

Joanne gave him a kind smile. "That's great…" She turned her head to look out the window. Seeing the two men getting up, she felt a sense of relief. "I think he needs to know that… that he's still important to you."

"He is," he said, lifting the cup to his mouth. "All my station brothers are. They really stuck by me when… When they prob'ly shouldn't've."

The two of them continued their casual conversation, talking about Corrie's latest mispronunciations and antics. Both of them turned their heads when they heard the sliding glass door opening. Joanne was the first to speak.

"Johnny? You have a visitor."

Johnny looked up, seeing Chet sitting at the kitchen bar. Quickly, he tried to remove any remnants of his emotional episode, forcing a grin across his splotchy face. "Ah, hey, Chet. You must be droppin' Corrie off for Caroline."

"No, Caroline is off today so… Gage!" Chet said, his blue eyes widening in shock as he got his first good look at the paramedic. "You look… um, slick-faced," the lineman said, unable to think of anything else to say. Johnny looked very different after having shaved off his scraggly beard. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, something Chet would have normally mentioned, but not today.

Both men snickered.

"Yea… It started to, ah, itch."

Joanne looped her arm through Roy's, jerking her head towards the living room. "We'll leave you two alone."

Johnny's eyes widened, curious about why he needed to be left alone with his nemesis. He gulped, feeling waves of heat wash over him. "Is… Is somethin' wrong, Kelly?"

"Nope," Chet responded with his usual goofy grin. "I just need to ask you somethin', Gage. You, ah… You weren't here when I asked the other fellas, and," he slid off the stool, shrugging his shoulders. He had no idea if Johnny would accept his invitation. "My weddin' is comin' up in the Spring and… Well, the other fellas all agreed to stand up with me, but you weren't here and…" He blew out his breath, looking over at Johnny. "It would really mean the world to me if you'd stand up with me, too. Will you be one of my groomsmen?"

Johnny was stunned. Had he heard Chet correctly? He narrowed his eyes at the Irishman. "Joanne made you ask me, didn't she?"

Chet's blue eyes opened wide. "Wha-no, no, Gage. I'm serious here. I was gonna ask you, but you were… you know… up in the mountains… But now you're back and… And I really want you to be there. I want… all my shiftmates standing with me…," he paused, his face dropping. "Oh… You don't approve of the weddin', do you? I really thought you were supportive… I'm-"

Johnny held up his hand, palm out. "Whoa… Chet… Of course I'm supportive of the marriage. Caroline is the best thing that ever happened to you, and… Actually, I think you're the best thing that's happened to her since Corrie was born. I'm truly happy for you and… If you're sure you want me there…"

"Yea… Yea, I do. It won't be the same if you aren't there."

Johnny scrubbed his face with his hand as Chet's last few words echoed in his mind. What would be different if he were gone? What impact would his death have on his shiftmates? He really hadn't given that much thought. He felt his left cheek twitching slightly. He couldn't believe Chet felt this way, not after everything that had happened recently. "Ah… Yea, Chet… Yea, I'd be… honored," Johnny said, his voice a whisper.

Chet's smile broadened beneath his bushy mustache. "Far out!" he nearly shouted, seeing Johnny extending his hand towards him. He considered the proffered hand, but thoughts of Johnny and Roy embracing on the back deck returned to his mind and the lineman lunged toward Johnny.

Johnny was nearly knocked off his feet, stunned by Chet's sudden hug.

"Thanks, man. Thanks, Johnny," Chet said, slapping Johnny on the back, relieved that his friend had agreed. Now his list of groomsmen was complete. Caroline still needed to choose her bridesmaids and the wedding party would be set.

Johnny returned the embrace then quickly separated from Chet. Neither man was completely comfortable with such an emotional display between them. "Thanks for… askin'."

Chet pumped both fists in the air. "Woohoo!"

"So when's the big day?"

"March 27th," the Irishman replied, proudly.

"Did he say yes?" Joanne called out as she and Roy re-entered the kitchen.

"Yes!"

Roy wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, smiling at his two friends. Perhaps the invitation was exactly what Johnny needed to give him something to look forward to.

"Okay, Gage," Chet began, his energy renewed with the acceptance of his invitation. "We're gonna wear our dress uniforms, 'cause I can't stand those monkey suits with the frilly sissy shirts. And Marco is gonna be my best man, so he's gonna throw me a bachelor party and I want all you fellas to come, and there'll be lots o' beer and strip-, er-"

Joanne crossed her arms over her chest, quirking one eyebrow in Chet's direction.

"Striped cake," the lineman stuttered, grinning at Joanne. "Yea, it'll be striped, you know, like a football field…"

"Give up, Chet," Roy chided. "You can't dig your way out of this one with a shovel."

Johnny chuckled for the first time in a long time. "Aww, let 'im try, Roy," Johnny interjected, enjoying seeing Chet squirm and glad the focus had shifted off of him.

Joanne fought the urge to laugh out loud, preferring to keep Chet on the hook a little longer. "Chet, you might as well tell me you're going to host a Bible study. That would be about as believable as a bachelor party with a STRIPED cake," she argued.

Chet rocked back and forth on his feet, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets, lifting his shoulders upwards until they reached his ears. "Yes, ma'am." He looked back and forth between Roy and Johnny. "I, ah," he stammered, backing up towards the front door. "I've got a lot to do today, so… I'll just be goin' now," he said with a grin, his face a dark shade of red. "Thanks, Gage. I really appreciate it, and… I'm… really glad you're back."

"I'll walk you out," Joanne offered, continuing to make the lineman uncomfortable, and loving every minute of it.

The two paramedics watched as Chet bounded for the front door, seeing the back of his neck flaming red with embarrassment.

Johnny's trademark grin made another appearance on his handsome face, this time reaching his expressive eyes. He turned to his friend. "Roy, ah… Where's my Rover?"

"It's at your apartment, as far as I know," Roy responded, concerned that Johnny was about to bolt before their superiors arrived.

"Oh… What time are the chief and Cap comin' over?"

Roy sighed, exasperated by his partner's behavior. "Johnny, you've got to be here to talk to them. I really don't think you're in trouble, so-"

"Roy!" Johnny said, raising his voice to stop Roy's imagination from running away from him. Of course, Johnny understood why Roy thought he was skipping out on the meeting. It had been his modus operandi for the last ten years. "Hey, hey… hold up. I need to know how much time I've got before I have to be back here. I'm gonna talk to 'em, a'right?"

Roy wasn't sure he believed his friend, but they seemed to have made quite a bit of progress in the last couple of days. He decided to give Johnny the benefit of the doubt.

"I don't know, exactly… Around noon, I suppose."

Johnny glanced at the wall clock above the kitchen table. "Umph, I don't think I have time to get my hair cut," he lamented, running his hand through his untamed locks.

"I can give you a quick trim, Johnny," Joanne said, walking back into the room. "It won't be regulation length, but it'll neaten it up some."

Johnny offered her his smile, knowing how it melted her heart. He loved Joanne. She was like the sister he had never had. "You… don't mind?"

"Of course not," she chuckled. "Roy can cut up the ham and the vegetables while I cut your hair; right, Roy?"

"For…"

"For the sandwiches," Joanne said, rolling her eyes playfully. "How quickly you men forget," she muttered, walking down the hallway to the bathroom to retrieve the needed supplies for the impromptu haircut.

"Oh, yea…," Roy said, ducking his head with a grin. Life seemed to be on the verge of returning to normal. At least, he hoped it was.

"There's lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and cheese in the crisper drawer of the fridge. The ham is on the bottom shelf," she called over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway. Moments later, she returned with a towel draped over her forearm, comb in hand, and snipping the scissors, aiming them at Johnny. "Ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, following her onto the back deck.

Roy watched the two of them as they set about trimming Johnny's shaggy mane. His blue orbs were filled with worry about the dark thoughts Johnny had shared with him.