Chapter 29

On Friday morning, Johnny strode through the automatic glass doors at Rampart's Emergency Department, walking down the familiar corridor to the nurses' station.

"Mornin', mornin', mornin'," he said with a smile, hoping he appeared more chipper than he actually felt.

"Well, hey there, Tiger. Here to see Kel?" the head nurse asked in her sultry smoky voice, already knowing the answer. She had enjoyed a quick breakfast with the handsome head of the emergency department, a frequent casual date that always left them both hungry for a little something extra that was never on the menu. Although they had given up on their relationship, each having chosen a career over a life partner, they still enjoyed each other's company on occasion. On this particular morning, Kel had filled her in on the plans for Johnny's return.

Johnny had to work hard to give her his best heart-melting smile. "Yes ma'am. I'm ready to get back to work. I hear Roy's been breakin' in a new trainee, so I'm sure he's ready to get his old partner back."

"I'm sure he is," came the deep baritone voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett walking up behind Johnny.

The younger man spun around, extending his hand to his physician. "Hey, Doc. Good to see ya."

"Same here, Johnny." The physician, after shaking Johnny's proffered hand, turned to his side and gestured with his handin the direction of treatment room 3. "Right this way."

"I'll get his chart, Kel," Dixie said, sliding off the stool where she was perched behind the counter.

Johnny followed the dark-haired physician into the exam room and began removing his shirt. He had needed medical clearance before so he knew the routine. He had already weighed himself at home and felt confident that he would meet the weight requirements to return to duty, but he also knew that his slim physique wasn't the only issue that needed addressing during this visit.

"Doc, did you get a copy of my hospital records from Tehachapi?" he asked, stepping up on the scales.

Dr. Brackett slid the poise over to the appropriate notch on the weigh beam, passing the minimum weight by three pounds. He offered a quick smile of approval to his patient.

"Yes, I did. You, uh, you had a really close call, Johnny," the physician said, looking over at Dixie as she walked into the room passing him the manila folder. "Thanks, Dix," Dr. Brackett mumbled, opening up the chart.

"I passed the weight test, Dix," Johnny piped up.

"Good, I'm ready to see my favorite paramedic team reunited on shift again," she said with a wink, turning and walking back out the door. Dr. Brackett had wanted a few minutes of privacy with Johnny, and she respected his wishes.

The physician took a set of vitals, then followed it up with a check of Johnny's eyes, ears, nose, and throat. "Any side effects from the poisoning?"

"No, sir. Dr. Buchanan said I was lucky, 'cause it was almost a fatal dose. Roy and Dr. Buck... they saved my life," he said looking down at his legs dangling over the edge of the exam table.

"Do you feel ready to go back to work? It's a stressful job."

Johnny knew that Dr. Brackett wasn't talking about the physical stress of being a fireman and paramedic. "Don't I know it, Doc, but, yea... I've never been more ready in my life." Johnny hesitated for a moment, wondering if his doctor would ask him the difficult questions. He looked up, seeing the older man standing with one arm over his chest. The other elbow was resting on it and he was rubbing his chin with his fingers. His lips were twitching, a sure sign that he had something very serious on his mind.

"If you wanna know somethin', jus' ask me, Doc. I know you want to," the paramedic spoke softly, fully prepared to lie to his medical director if he asked questions which, if answered honestly, might jeopardize Johnny's career.

"You know me well," Kel replied, stepping up to the exam table and leaning against it with one hand.

"Well, you've seen me naked more times than I can count so, I think YOU know ME pretty well," the nervous paramedic snickered.

Dr. Brackett relaxed a bit, grateful to see Johnny's joking manner returning, although he couldn't help but wonder how John's time with the Unity Family might have affected him. He looked at his patient with concerned blue eyes.

"How are you, Johnny? Mentally, I mean. You had a rough time in the mountains... Are you sure you're ready to go back on shift? I can let you stay off a little longer, if you think you need it."

Johnny reached for his shirt, slipping one arm through the sleeve, then searching for the other while he looked directly into his physician's eyes. "I'm good, Doc. I'm, uh, seein' a therapist. I'm not exactly proud o' that, but... Well, I've been through some tough stuff in my life. He's gonna help me sort it all out."

"You may not be proud of it, but I'm sure as hell proud of you. It isn't easy for us as men to admit that we need counseling, but we do... We ALL do," he said, patting his patient on his shoulder. "I had to have some myself, once. Who are you seeing?" the physician asked, casually turning his attention to Johnny's chart.

"You?" Johnny asked, his chin hanging open slightly, wondering what could have happened to a man like Brackett to send him to a psychologist. "Oh, um, Dr. Todd Robertson. Cap recommended him."

"I know him," Brackett offered with a knowing wink. "He's a great guy… And yes, me," the dark-haired physician said with a light-hearted knowing grin. "Who do you think recommended him to Hank?"

"Huh," Johnny said, shaking his head as he stared down into his lap with a lop-sided grin on his face. When he looked back up, his chocolate eyes held a new sense of trust, seeing his friend and personal physician in a new light.

"Johnny, I'll dictate the medical release letter this afternoon and drop it off in the mail on my way home. That way it'll be delivered to the station tomorrow so Hank will have it on Sunday, or, if you'd prefer, you can come back by here late this afternoon and pick it up yourself.

Johnny considered his options. "Well, if you don't mind… Um, would you mail it yourself? That way it's comin' straight from you."

Dr. Brackett tilted his head slightly. Something odd was going on with his young medic, but he had no idea what. He turned his attention to his charting.

"Say, Doc?"

"Yea, Johnny?" the physician asked, looking up from Johnny's open chart.

"Would you mind giving me a... a drug test?"

Dr. Brackett clicked his pen, slipping it back into his shirt pocket. His forehead wrinkled questioningly as his azure eyes looked up at his patient. "No, I don't mind, but I'd like to know why you think I need to," he said, his expression growing more serious as he crossed his arms over his chest. Johnny's request had confirmed his earlier suspicions that something was definitely wrong.

"Well, I had a visit from Cap and Chief McConnike the other day. Chief seemed a little concerned about, ahem... About my poisoning."

Dr. Brackett studied his patient for a long moment. "Did he suggest that you have a drug problem?"

"Not in so many words, but... Doc, I've been suspected o' bein' a lot o' things and," he snickered, "most of 'em are true, but... I ain't never been a drug addict. Besides, I've brought too many dead kids in here, watched their grievin' loved ones...," he shook his head. "No, not me. I don't even get drunk that often. No sir, I'm not an addict of any kind."

"And I don't appreciate the chief suggesting that you might be. If you had a problem with drugs, I'd know about it, Johnny," Dr. Brackett said, pointing a finger at his own chest. "And I wouldn't allow you to work out of this, or any other hospital."

"I know that, Doc. I jus'... I feel like I need to prove it to 'im... Please?"

Dr. Brackett straightened up to his full height, then walked over to a drawer to remove the necessary supplies. He had a feeling that Johnny had spent many years trying to prove himself in ways not required of others.

"Johnny, I know this must really be important to you. I'll do it, but I'm noting in your chart that this is per YOUR request, not mine, understood?"

Johnny allowed his lopsided grin to spread across his face. "Yea, thanks, Doc. I really appreciate it," he said, accepting the small specimen container.

"I'll wait for you and take it to the lab myself," Dr. Brackett offered. "I'll be at the nurses' station. Maybe you'd like to grab a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds good," Johnny said, tapping his fingers on the lid of the container as he stepped backwards towards the tiny restroom. "I haven't seen the staff breakroom in a while," he snickered, his familiar grin adorning his face.

"We've missed you around here, Johnny," Kel said, quickly exiting the room.

Kelly Brackett wasn't the kind of man to show his true feelings very often. Johnny – and all the other men who worked out of Station 51 – were more than just his friends and, on occasion, his patients; they were as close as his own family. He had taken care of them when their lives were hanging in the balance. He thought back to the time when he had counseled Roy after the senior medic had lost a patient in route to Rampart, unable to communicate with the base station because the ambulance had lost its external antenna. Kel had used the same analogy with Roy as had been used with him when he, too, had lost a patient and was questioning whether he should leave his chosen profession. Although his confidence in his own abilities was sometimes misconstrued as arrogance, he simply felt as though he were the most qualified physician to handle most cases that came into the emergency department for treatment, including injured firemen. Because of that, he had grown accustomed to taking the proverbial ball and running with it. But when Johnny needed him in Tehachapi, the young medic was out of Dr. Brackett's purview. Another physician, no doubt just as skilled and knowledgeable, had saved the young paramedic's life. The reality of Johnny's near-death experience slammed into Dr. Brackett with enough force to cause him to lose his breath. He had to leave the room in a rush in order to regain control of himself.

Johnny stood staring at the treatment room door as it swung closed. He exhaled, his shoulders slumping over. Even though his physician had told him that he didn't believe Johnny had a drug problem, the paramedic still felt like he needed to prove it, and not just to the department brass. He wanted the medical staff at Rampart to know, too. He knew how quickly rumors spread throughout the hospital; he didn't want to be the subject of any of those rumors.

He stepped into the tiny restroom, cup in hand, to give the lab a sample to test. The bleachy clean scent brought back images of Lily cleaning his bathroom, a few strands of disheveled hair hanging down in her face. He grinned as he thought about how she had huffed out her breath, making the stray hair blow out of her eyes. Now that he was going to be returning to work Sunday, perhaps his life was about to return to some semblance of normal. Was it possible that Lily would soon be a part of his life again?

E!

Marco drove up to the grocery store for his weekly shopping trip. He considered himself to be a decent cook, although the guys seemed to appreciate his cooking more than he did. He had planned to prepare dinner for Beverly tonight, a romantic candlelight affair. The two of them had decided to have a relaxing meal at home and watch an old movie. He could almost feel her warm body snuggling up to him on his sofa.

As he sat in his car, his eyes wandered from the market to the store beside it. Mavis Jewelry was an old family-owned store, the same store where his parents had purchased their wedding rings. He looked down at his watch, realizing that he had plenty of time, so he stepped out of his car and headed towards the jewelry store. He wasn't ready to ask the question just yet, but this was as close as he had ever come to finding someone with whom he thought he could spend the rest of his life. He was happy with Beverly, missed her terribly when they weren't together. Was that what it meant to truly be in love?

He pushed through the door, hearing the jingling of the bell to alert the owner that he had a potential customer.

"Good afternoon, sir; may I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to, um, to see your engagement rings, please?" Marco asked, feeling butterflies in his stomach, wondering how much a nice ring would cost.

"Ah, yes, congratulations," the gray-haired man said, searching his large keyring for the right key to open the display cabinet.

"Well, I don't know that congratulations are in order, just yet," the lineman chuckled. "I'm only looking right now."

"Well, if you see something you like, let me know. I'll beat anybody's prices around here," Mr. Mavis said, confidently.

Marco scanned the rows of diamond rings, amazed at how they sparkled. He tried to imagine one of them on Beverly's hand.

"Do you have a price range, or a particular shape or size in mind?"

Marco shook his head, still scanning the stock. "This is the first time I've really thought about it, sir."

Mr. Mavis leaned his short chubby arms on the display cabinet, careful not to cast a shadow across the rings. He liked Marco's polite demeanor. "There are no coincidences, young man," he said sincerely.

"What are the prices," Marco asked, hating that he had to even consider that, but he had always tried to be responsible with his money, and his career choice meant that he would never be a wealthy man. "I'm a fireman, so I don't have a whole lot of money to spend."

Mr. Mavis eyed him curiously. "Thank you for your service. I give all the local police officers and firemen a 15% discount. Plus," he said, raising one stubby finger in the air for dramatic effect, "October is our fortieth anniversary for this business. We're going to have a big sale starting in just a couple of weeks. If you add the firemens discount to the sale price, you can get a really nice ring at a very affordable price."

Marco's dark eyes looked up, appreciating what he was hearing. "Really?"

Mr. Mavis felt a kindred spirit with the young man, even though he had never met him until a couple of minutes ago. "I'll even do something more, as long as you don't tell anybody else," he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice even though Marco was the only potential customer at the moment. "If you see something you really like, I'll put it back for you until the sale."

The lineman's pearly white teeth shown from beneath his jet black bushy mustache. His eyes roamed the rows of rings, but kept returning back to one oval solitaire. "May I look at this one?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Mavis said, removing the ring. "She's a beauty."

Marco glanced at the price tag and felt his stomach drop. "Yes, she is."

"Should I put it in the safe for you until the sale?"

Marco shoved his hands into his pockets, more to dry off his sweaty palms than anything else. "Um… Not yet, but maybe soon," he said with a sparkle in his eyes. "Thank you so much, and, um, how much of a discount will the sale be?"

"If you come back in just a couple of weeks, this one will be 40% off," Mr. Mavis said, holding the ring between his thumb and index finger so that it caught the overhead lights and sparkled at Marco.

Marco did a quick mental calculation. With the discounts making a deep impact on the price, this ring should be within his price range. He accepted it from the jeweler, noting how much it glittered and glistened as he turned it in between his fingers. He held it at arm's length, imagining how it would look on Beverly's hand.

"So, what's the lucky lady's name?"

"Beverly," Marco replied without looking up. He tried to imagine the look on Beverly's face as he slipped it on her finger. He didn't let the thought linger long; her acceptance of his proposal wasn't a guarantee.

"Thank you, Mr. Mavis." Marco handed it back to the older man, then turned to exit the store. "Well, I may see you in a couple of weeks," he tossed over his shoulder. "Have a nice afternoon, sir." Marco pushed through the door, hearing Mr. Mavis' similar departing comment amid the jingle that echoed as the fireman left.

Mr. Mavis watched the dark-haired man walk out the door, turning to the left in the direction of the grocery store. He stood for a moment, looking down at the ring he held in his hand. Instead of returning it to the display case, he pulled open a drawer and removed a tiny brown envelope. He clicked a pen, writing two words on the top line of the envelope – Fireman's Beverly – and then slipped the ring inside before placing it inside his locked safe. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the young fireman was in love and was ready to propose. "You'll be back, Mr. Fireman… And this little jewel will be waiting for you."

E!

Johnny sat in his recliner, staring at the telephone on the wall in his kitchen. Should he call her? He wanted to hear her voice, but he didn't want to interrupt her time with her mother. As his internal debate continued, he reached over to his coffee table and picked up his journal. Dr. Robertson had encouraged him to write as often as possible; now seemed like a very good time to write down his feelings.

After half an hour of silently pouring out his heart, he closed it up and headed over to the telephone. His hand lay on the receiver for several long moments as he considered what he should do. He closed his eyes, lifting the receiver and cradled it in the crook of his neck, like he did so often with the biophone. He quickly dialed the prefix, then hesitated before completing a different, even more familiar number. When he heard the ringing on the other end of the line, he leaned his back against the wall.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Roy, I jus' wanted to let you know that I'll be back on shift with you on Sunday."

"That's great, Johnny. I'm glad to have you back."

"Thanks, man. Thanks for everything... I mean it... I, uh, I need to call Cap and let him know I won't need a replacement, but I jus'… I wanted to tell you first."

"Thanks… It'll be great to have you back in the squad with me. The guys will be glad to have you back, too."

"I appreciate it. I'll see ya Sunday," Johnny said, hanging up the phone. His next call would be to his captain and then, perhaps, he would call Lily.

Roy heard the increased energy in his partner's voice and he hoped that meant that they had weathered the current crisis. He knew things would likely worsen as the trial date approached, but he wouldn't think about that now. Today, he would celebrate the victory of his partner returning to work, and to a somewhat normal life.

E!

"Beverly? You seem really quiet; is the food that bad?"

Beverly used her fork to stir the roasted vegetables around her plate. "Oh, no, the food is great. I guess I'm just not all that hungry."

Marco watched her for a few moments, noticing the dark circles that were developing beneath her eyes. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what. "How about some dessert?"

"Maybe later." Beverly's green eyes looked across the table at the most wonderful man she had ever met. She was feeling nauseated – even though she knew that it was just in her head. There was no way that she would already be experiencing morning sickness, even if she was pregnant. With her queasy stomach, she knew that dessert was out of the question. She reached for her water glass, sipping the cooling liquid. She felt the heat of Marco's dark eyes watching her, but she couldn't face him. She couldn't stand to look into his handsome face knowing that she was hiding something from him. She picked up a piece of broccoli, forcing herself to chew it up. Getting the proper nutrition could be more important now than ever.

"Are you sure you don't want a glass of wine? It's your favorite," Marco said, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

She shook her head, taking another sip of the water to wash down the food she had been chewing for far too long. She saw the hurt on his face when she declined his offer. The wine was expensive, and now she wasn't drinking any of it. Should she risk telling him why?

Marco clinked his fork on his plate, resting it on the edge. He steepled his hands in front of his face, staring at her picking at her food. "Have I done something wrong?"

Beverly gave him a brief smile before returning her eyes to the partially eaten food on her plate. "No, of course not. I'm just… I'm really tired, sweetheart. I'm sorry that I'm not very good company tonight."

He reached across his small table, grasping her soft hand in his and lifting it to his mouth. His lips lightly brushed across the back of her hand. "You're always good company, Bev. It's okay to have a rough day. I'm going to have a few of them from time to time too, so let's just accept that as a part of our relationship and… And let's agree not to hold it against each other, okay?"

Beverly batted her eyelashes, forcing back her tears. Was it really possible that she had found a man who loved her unconditionally? Would he still feel the same way if she was carrying his child? She slipped her hands beneath her thighs, an old habit that was resurrected whenever she began experiencing feelings of self-doubt. She swallowed hard, struggling to find her words. "Um… 'kay. I love you, Marco."

"I love you, too," he responded, continuing to stare at her for a few more moments. He had no idea what was going on with her; he just hoped that she wasn't having second thoughts about their relationship. He didn't think he could handle it if she broke up with him, now that he had fallen in love with her.

E!

That night, as Johnny lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, he wondered what was happening at the Campbell house. He had decided not to call Lily after all; he was afraid she would ask him about his thoughts of self-harm. If Iris knew, then surely Lily knew as well. How could he face them, now that they knew about his morbid ideas? Would they be hurt that he had considered taking such drastic action? Would they be angry?

Throwing his arm over his eyes, he exhaled loudly, praying that peaceful sleep would find him, tonight. He needed to get some rest before he went back on shift, and he needed to get rid of the nightmares before he suffered an embarrassing moment at the station, on his first night back.

"Please, God… take 'em away," he muttered into the darkness.

E!

Across town, Beverly gave Marco a chaste goodnight kiss. He stood outside her door, waiting to hear the locking mechanism engaging before he turned to walk back to his car. The evening had not gone as he had planned, and he was beginning to wonder if he had done something to offend the woman he loved.

As he drove back home, he reviewed the events of the night. Beverly hadn't eaten much of her food, refused her favorite wine, and complained of a headache. She had explained it away as being tired, and had seemed to be on the verge of tears a couple of times during dinner and the movie. While he had been hoping for a romantic interlude, he had only received a passionless kiss at her door without even a hint of an invitation for him to enter her apartment.

He continued to ponder her strange behavior as he drove home, cleaned up his kitchen, and prepared for bed. As he closed his eyes, he silently prayed for Beverly and whatever was bothering her.

In her apartment, Beverly showered and readied herself for bed. She stared at her naked body in the mirror, seeing the faint lines along her breasts. Her heart ached at the permanent reminder of what she had lost when she was only sixteen years old. Back then, she had shared her secret with the woman whom she thought was her best friend, but the older woman had betrayed her, and the resulting beating had been the worst she had ever experienced. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, allowing her tears to fall.

"Get... a grip, Beverly," she mumbled through gritted teeth, as she took a seat on the edge of her tub. "It won't happen again. You're a grown woman now, and... And Marco wo-wouldn't," she hiccupped, feeling the hot tears burning her cheeks, the swelling lump in her throat choking off her words. "I won't... let it... happen again."

E!

Early on Sunday morning, Hank walked into the captain's office at Station 51, coffee cup in hand. This was the first time his crew would be reunited in several weeks and, as always, he was hoping for a safe shift.

He looked at the C-shift captain, seeing his disheveled appearance and sagging features. "Rough shift?" he asked, lifting the steaming cup to his mouth.

"Yea… Last call out was at 0214 and we just pulled back into quarters about ten minutes ago."

"What happened?"

The exhausted captain closed up the log book having finished documenting the run. He stood up, stretching his aching back. "Senior citizens' apartment complex. Seems one of the residents turned on a space heater for a little added warmth now that the nights are cooler and didn't realize how close it was to her curtains. That's what we suspect, anyway. We had two code F's from smoke inhalation."

Hank sighed; he knew exactly how his colleague felt. "Sorry… Why don't you head on home and get some rest? I'll take whatever comes in now."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," Hank replied, patting his hand on the shoulder of the departing captain. "Go hug your wife, take a shower, and sleep the rest of the day."

The C-shift captain gave a soft snort. "Better shower first, then hug the wife."

Hank watched the tired man lumber slowly around the squad towards the back parking lot, then the A-shift captain turned to his desk. There was an envelope with his name on it sitting in his 'in' box. The letterhead indicated it was from Rampart General Hospital.

"This better be John's medical release," he mused, slipping the sharp instrument down the length of the white envelope. When he removed the familiar form and scanned over it, he frowned. "What the hell?"

Across the apparatus bay, Johnny, being unusually early for his shift, greeted the C-shift mean as they cleaned up from their run. He tossed his duffel bag onto the bench seat in front of his locker.

"Hey, fellas, I brought donuts. I'm gonna leave 'em in the kitchen. Grab some on your way out, if you want."

A chorus of gratuitous expressions echoed as Johnny carried the two pink pastry boxes he had purchased to the kitchen and set them down in the center of the table. Although he had pasted on his usual cheery persona, he was anxious about returning to the station now that his shiftmates knew so much about him. The last time he had walked out of this building, he had assumed it would really be the last time. So, having Hank Stanley refuse to accept his resignation letter and having been released for duty by Dr. Brackett, he felt as though he had been given an amazing gift – a gift he vowed to make the most of.

He found a fresh pot of coffee made and was about to pour himself a cup, but a sudden jolt of queasiness caused him to change his mind. He needed to talk to his captain before the rest of his crew arrived. He had seen Hank's car parked in the back lot and he wanted to make sure his medical release had arrived.

Standing just outside the doorway, he cleared his throat as he knocked. "Ahem, mornin', Cap."

Hank dropped the release form he had been fuming over and stood up to shake his junior medic's hand. "Welcome back, John."

"Thanks, Cap." John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, running a nervous finger beneath his nose. He propped a hand on his hip. He could see that something was bothering his captain. "Did you, ah, get my medical release?"

Hank lifted his eyebrows, looking down at the paper on his desk. "Have a seat."

Johnny felt his stomach flip flop as he lowered his body into the vacant chair beside the captain's desk.

Hank sat down in his chair, using his index finger to tap on the paper. "John, why did you request a drug test?"

Johnny blanched, coughing into his closed fist. "Ahua... I, uh, I figured it was best. I have nothin' to hide, Cap."

"I know that. You did this because of what that jackass, McConnike, said… Am I right?"

Johnny rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, lacing his fingers together. He took a moment to steel his nerves before looking over at his superior. With serious dark eyes, the young medic spoke. "He made an insinuation about me that I really didn't appreciate, Cap. Maybe you didn't notice, but-"

"Oh, I noticed. Believe me, John. Not only did I notice, I gave him an earful when we left." Hank wanted his man to know that he had the full faith and support of his captain.

Johnny shifted in his seat. "Ah, thank you, Cap. I apologize if I did somethin' wrong, but I jus' really wanted to make a point to him. I'm clean, always have been… always will be."

"You didn't do anything wrong, but you also didn't have to do this," he said, holding up the paper. "I just wanted you to know that… I believe in you, and every man at this station believes in you. Don't let a man like McConnike cause you to do anything any differently than you would normally do. You didn't deserve his smartass comment, or insinuation, as you put it."

"Thank you, sir," Johnny said, feeling uncomfortable with the praise his captain was bestowing. "Should I ask Brackett to write a new release form, without the drug test information?"

Hank leaned back in his chair. "Nope, let's leave this one just like it is. Maybe it'll shut McConnike up."

Johnny allowed his lopsided grin to spread across his face. "Thanks, Cap. I, uh, I brought some donuts," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

"Well then… What are we waiting for?"

The two walked into the kitchen to find Mike and Roy enjoying fresh donuts and coffee.

"John," Mike offered, extending his hand to his paramedic.

"Hey, Stoker."

"Thanks for the donuts, Cap," Roy said, lifting his half-eaten pastry in the direction of his captain.

"Oh, don't thank me," Hank grinned.

Roy was about to respond when Chet rushed through the door, his eyes widening when he saw the pink boxes. "Aww, far out! Pastries!" he said, lifting a powdered sugar donut to his lips. He quickly consumed an enormous bite, leaving his mustache appearing to be snowcapped while he licked his fingers. "Mmm."

Johnny smiled at the antics of his station nemesis. "You're welcome, Kelly."

"Ahu-ahua-hua," Chet coughed, pretending to choke on his donut. "Gage, you sprung for donuts?" he said, showering his uniform with powdered sugar.

"Yea, you got a problem with that?" Johnny asked, pretending to be aggravated. In reality, he was glad to be sparring with Chet. It was the one thing that made his return feel normal on his first day back on duty.

"No, I don't have a problem with it... I'm just stunned, is all," Chet snickered, shoving the rest of the white donut in his mouth. "I can't believe you'd buy us donuts when you complain about spending a few bucks on a dinner date."

Johnny grimaced, then opened his mouth for a retort, when their captain silenced his two youngest crew members.

"Kelly!"

"Yessir, Cap?"

"Go get cleaned up; we've got roll call in ten minutes," Hank said, feigning irritation at his crew. Truthfully, a warmth was washing over him, a feeling of complete normalcy – something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He picked up another glazed donut, topped off his coffee cup, and headed back to his office. He wanted to allow his crew a few minutes to welcome Johnny back.

In the back lot, Marco pulled into a vacant spot, glad to see Johnny's Rover back in its usual parking spot, but realizing that he was the last person to arrive on shift. He would be assigned latrines, but he didn't care. Anything that kept him busy would keep his mind off of Beverly and her recent odd behavior.

When he entered the locker room to change into his uniform, he found his best friend washing his face, his uniform shirt slightly damp in a few places.

"Tried to set Gage up, huh?" he asked, assuming that one of the Phantom's famous water bombs had backfired.

Chet grinned, looking at his friend from the mirror. "Naw, Johnny bought us donuts and I got some white powder on me," the lineman snickered.

"It's called powdered sugar, not white powder. You sound like you've been snorting some white powder," Marco goaded.

Chet gave his friend a double-take; he knew Marco better than anyone, and the man was in a very bad mood. Chet gave his face one last look to make sure he was presentable for roll call, patted it dry with a towel, then turned around and leaned against the sink. He watched as Marco began changing clothes, seeing how his shoulders were slumped and his movements were slower than usual.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Marco never looked at Chet. Instead he simply hung up his shirt in his locker, removing his uniform shirt and threading his arms through the sleeves. As he began to button it up, he muttered something in Spanish.

"English, please?" Chet said.

Dark eyes looked up at the Irishman. "I said, not really."

"Not really means yes," Chet corrected. "Lemme guess... Beverly?"

"Something's wrong, Chet, but I don't know what it is; she won't tell me."

"Uh-oh," Chet mumbled, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "What'd you do?"

Marco's eyes widened. "Nothing!" he said in a raised voice, stepping out of his jeans and throwing them into his locker like he was throwing out the first pitch at a Dodgers game.

Chet saw the frustration in his friend's actions and knew that the situation was serious. "Hey, buddy, I'm sorry; that was meant to be a joke."

"Yea, well it isn't funny, amigo," he huffed, pulling his navy blue uniform pants off their hanger and slipping them on.

"I know that Caroline asked her to be a bridesmaid and she agreed. She said that Beverly seemed happy to be asked."

"Guess it was because I wasn't the one who was doing the asking," Marco groused.

Chet stepped over to the place where Marco was getting dressed, propping one foot onto the bench and leaning his arms onto his raised knee. He knew that when a man was in a mood like Marco's, there was usually only one reason why. "So... not much action in the bedroom lately then, right?"

Marco looked over at his annoying friend, suddenly feeling an overwhelming desire to punch the slighter man. But he also knew that his mood wasn't Chet's fault. He blew out his cheeks, resisting the urge to slam his partner with a smart aleck comment. "Yea... nothing in over a week."

Chet grinned, using his fingers to wax his mustache. "Then you just answered your own question, man. She's been grouchy for a week and you haven't gotten any, um, attention so... It's just her time o' the month. She'll be fine in a day or two," he said, patting Marco's shoulder knowingly.

"Chet, you're an idiot. We've been dating for months, and she's never acted like this before."

"So she's havin' a bad one... It happens," he suggested as though he was an expert on female hormonal cycles.

Marco stared at his friend as he threaded his belt through the loops, buckling it in front. "Chet... Can I ask you a serious question? And will you give me a serious answer?"

Chet's countenance shifted immediately. He took a seat on the bench in front of their lockers, patting the space beside him. Marco accepted the silent invitation and sat down beside his friend.

"Ask away," Chet said, his blue eyes holding a seriousness that Marco had only seen a few times.

The senior lineman leaned his elbows onto his knees, sighing as he gathered up his nerve. Then, just when Chet thought the older man might change his mind, he spoke.

"How did you know... that Caroline was… the one?"

Chet fought the urge to smile at his friend. Perhaps it wasn't just Beverly who was having some difficulty lately. Maybe Marco was caught up in his own quandary that was adding to the tension between them. He clapped his hand on Marco's neck, offering the older man a gentle squeeze.

"When I realized that I wouldn't be able to breathe if she ever left me. I can't imagine my life without her, man. Saying good night, and parting ways is... It's torture. All I want to do is hold her in my arms all night and... wake up to find her in my arms the next morning." He shook his curly-haired head. "I'm not makin' any sense, am I?"

"You're making perfect sense," Marco said, a slight smile lurking from beneath his sleek dark mustache.

"So," Chet began, his eager eyes sparkling. "Do you think Beverly might be the future Mrs. Marco Lopez?"

Marco snickered, grabbing his young friend's neck in the crook of his elbow. "You'll be the second to know," he said, releasing Chet's neck and bending over to pull on his socks and boots.

"Hey! I'm your best friend, man. Who else would be first?" Chet asked, hurt when he realized that someone else was going to hear the announcement first.

Marco slipped his feet into his boots, then stood up, towering over the junior lineman. "Beverly, you goof."

Chet laughed, standing up to follow Marco out to the line-up. "Oh... yea."

Roll call was uneventful, Hank welcomed Johnny back along with the other men who offered their support of their coworker's return. Chores were assigned and before the men dispersed, the klaxons sounded. Yes, life truly seemed to be returning to normal for the A-shift of station 51.

E!

After lunch and the fourth run to Rampart, Roy opened the door of the squad, slipping in behind the wheel. He waited for his partner to stow the supplies they had retrieved from Dixie and take his seat on the passenger's side of the emergency vehicle. As soon as he slammed the heavy door closed, Roy turned to his right.

"Why don't you just call her?"

Johnny, his arm resting on the window ledge, looked over at his partner, nonchalantly. "Call who?"

Roy shook his head in disbelief, cranking up the squad and pulling away from the emergency entrance. "You know who; Lily."

Johnny looked out the side window, allowing the breeze to ruffle his dark hair as the squad eased away from the ambulance bay. "I a'ready told ya. I'm lettin' the two of them get reacquainted."

"Bullshit," Roy muttered, uncharacteristically.

"What did you say?"

"I said bullshit. I've already told you what Iris said when I went over there to pick up your pistol. Iris wants to talk to you... and so does Lily. They miss you, Johnny, can't you see that?"

"Roy, I..." Johnny ran his hand through his windblown hair. "I... I jus' can't."

"Can't?" Roy questioned softly, thinking he knew what his friend was thinking. "Or won't?"

Johnny jerked his face over at his partner. The anger in his eyes evident upon first hearing the question, slowly softened. He released a sigh, looking down at his lap. "A'right... A'right, you got me."

"Why, Johnny?"

Johnny heaved heavily, obviously contemplating telling Roy the truth. He squinted as the glare of the sun on the windshields of the passing cars hurt his eyes. "Roy... that woman... I jus' feel so... I dunno... weak," his voice raised a little, indicating that he was questioning what he was feeling. "When I'm around her, I feel... yea, weak. I don't know how else to put it." He refused to look at his friend, unsure of what Roy would think of his confession.

Roy felt a smile tugging at his lips. He watched his younger friend shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and finally couldn't resist the temptation to chuckle.

Johnny, arching an eyebrow in Roy's direction, felt a heaviness in his chest. He couldn't believe his best friend was laughing at him. He shook his head in disbelief, looking out the passenger's side window. "Shut up, Roy. You don't understand."

"Yes, I do, Junior... You're in love."

"Am not. I mean, I love Iris and Lily, both. They're like family," he said, knowing Roy wasn't believing the lie.

"Like I said before," Roy said, accelerating and pulling into traffic on his way back to the station.

"What?"

The red-haired paramedic looked over at his partner with a huge grin. "Bullshit."

"Roy!"

"Hey, don't fight it, and I'm not making fun of you. I've been there, remember?"

Johnny knitted his eyebrows together as he looked at his partner. "You mean... Joanne made you feel, uh, weak?"

"Made?" Roy questioned, casting a quick look in Johnny's direction. "Makes, Johnny... She still does it, every time I look into those emerald green eyes, I get weak."

Slowly Johnny's trademark grin spread across his face. He had always known that Roy and Joanne had a wonderful marriage, even though they had experienced a rocky period several months ago. They had weathered the storm and seemingly had come out of it stronger than ever. However, this was the first time his partner had ever made a revelation about how his wife made him feel.

Roy looked over at Johnny once more as they neared the station. Seeing Johnny staring at him, he smiled. "Face it, Johnny. You already know the truth. You love Lily, and you know she loves you."

"Well, if that's true... and I'm not saying it is, but if it is…," he said, hesitating as Roy eased the squad to a stop in front of the station, "What am I s'posed to do?"

Roy shifted into reverse, not responding to Johnny's question until the squad had been backed into its proper location. He turned off the ignition, giving his partner a knowing look. "Call her... Then just do what comes naturally."

Johnny stared at Roy in disbelief, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Not that," Roy chided, knowing what his friend was thinking. "At least, not initially," he continued, waggling his eyebrows.

Johnny leaned his head back and released a belly-heaving laugh. It felt refreshing and gave him a sense of relief to laugh out loud.

The two men exited the squad, the slamming doors echoing in the empty apparatus bay. Knowing that there wasn't going to be a better time than the present, Johnny sauntered towards the dorm to make the private phone call.

Roy noticed where Johnny was heading and knew that his friend was finally going to talk to Lily. "Remember... be a gentleman," he tossed over his shoulder at the departing young man, then pushed through the kitchen door to make a fresh pot of coffee. He didn't know how long the engine would be gone, but he hoped it would be long enough for he and Johnny to talk after the younger man talked to Lily. He just hoped that Johnny's mood would be as light after the call as it seemed to be before it.

E!

Roy set about percolating a fresh pot of coffee. He had just poured himself a cup, blowing a cooling breath over the steaming liquid as Johnny bounced through the kitchen doorway. Roy grinned, setting his cup down without taking a sip.

"Well?"

Johnny, grabbing his own mug, poured himself a cup. He knew Roy wanted the details of his conversation with Lily, and he was determined to frustrate the other man as long as possible. He was glad his back was turned to Roy as he was unable to hide his lopsided grin.

"Deep subject, Roy," he said, stifling a giggle at his own sense of humor.

Roy rolled his eyes. "Oh, har-har. You know what I'm talking about. How'd it go?"

Johnny turned around, leaning his hips against the counter as he lifted his cup to his mouth, completely forgetting how hot the coffee was. He grinned widely. "I'm goin' over there for dinner tomorrow night," he said, taking a big sip and scowling. "OWE!"

Roy chuckled to himself. "Well, at least now I know you'll be a gentleman," he laughed as Johnny opened the freezer to retrieve an ice cube for his burning lips.

E!

Much as Johnny had feared, the evening shift was a quiet one. As the men turned in for the night, Johnny positioned and repositioned his bunkers beside his bed. Roy noticed his partner's obsessive behavior and knew something wasn't right.

The senior medic looked around the room, seeing that the others were in various stages of making their nightly preparations. He took a seat on his bunk, staring at his fretting partner.

"Johnny?" he whispered, hoping the others wouldn't hear him.

Dark eyes looked over at Roy, questioningly. Johnny could tell by the worried look on Roy's face that he knew something was going on. He darted his eyes back down at his perfectly positioned bunkers, before crawling beneath the covers without acknowledging his partner's call, extremely grateful when their captain turned off the lights.

Roy heaved a deep sigh, wanting to talk to Johnny, but knowing that now wasn't the time. He slowly slipped his bare legs between the sheets, turning his head to the right to see if Johnny was assuming his usual sleeping position. Instead of finding his partner with his arm draped across his eyes, he saw Johnny lying on his back, shifting his head as if trying to find a comfortable spot on his pillow.

Johnny could feel Roy staring at him, but he refused to look at his worried partner. He had shared with Roy that he had been struggling with nightmares and he knew the other man was concerned about him. He had consumed three cups of coffee after dinner, hoping the caffeine would keep him awake between calls. Now they were giving him another problem.

"Aaargh," he groaned, kicking the covers off of his legs. He stood up, padding his bare feet through the dorm in his boxers and tee shirt, when Chet's grumbling caught his attention.

"Told ya, Gage," the junior lineman groused, rolling over in his bed, pulling the blanket beneath his chin.

"Go play on the freeway, Kelly," Johnny mumbled, pushing through the doorway towards the latrine.

"Shut up, you twits!" Hank commented, thankful that the darkness in the room hid the smile that was shining on his face. Hearing the verbal sparring between his two youngest crew members felt as warm and comforting as his own familiar bunk and blankets on this cool autumn night.

It was just after 0400 when Roy rolled onto his side, his back to the brick wall divider. There was just enough light from the street lamps seeping through the dorm window to allow Roy to see his partner's chest rising and falling in an unusual pattern. He could hear the heavy irregular breathing and knew that Johnny was in the throes of a nightmare. Slowly, he slipped out of his bunk, hoping to quietly wake Johnny with a gentle nudge.

Johnny was trapped in total darkness, the stench of musty stale water assaulting his nose. In the distance, he could hear the unmistakable sound of fists connecting with bone-covered flesh and the pitiful moans and grunts of the victim of the vicious assault. Somehow he knew that the victim this time wasn't Phillip Campbell; it was Roderick Gage, Johnny's father. Johnny gripped a metal object in his hands as his taste buds were suddenly overwhelmed by the gritty combination of dirt and rotting layers of pine needles and oak leaves. He opened his mouth, his body rejecting the putrid combination when suddenly he felt an unseen hand grab his shoulder as a loud piercing sound shot a volt of electricity through his heaving chest.

Johnny's dark eyes jerked wide open as the lights came up in response to the klaxons. The first sight he saw was the face of his partner hovering over him. Roy quickly pulled his hand off of Johnny's shoulder and stepped away from the younger man's bed, slipping his bunkers over his boxer shorts and snapping the red suspenders over his firm trapezius muscles. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that his partner was also preparing for the run that Sam Lanier's disembodied voice was alerting them to. He heard their captain acknowledging the call, as he and the rest of the groggy men lumbered to the emergency vehicles. As they drove into the darkness, the red lights and sirens disturbing the serenity of the early morning hour, Roy wondered what which horrific images had been lurking behind the twitching closed eyes of his partner. Whatever memories had held him captive, Roy was determined to help him escape from them, but first he had to convince Johnny to discuss the terror he had experienced in his past, and what tortures were continuing their cruel torment of his best friend's life. Whatever it was, Roy strongly suspected that it was more than what had happened on that cool March morning back in Selma.