Roy and Johnny's fishing trip goes very, very wrong.

Off Road

Station 51, a modest, single story brick building on a busy Los Angeles road, had both its bay doors open at the front and back. The warm lights within failed to compete with the sun breaking over the California hills in its dawn struggle to burn off the morning fog. The bay housed a cherry red fire engine that dwarfed the rescue squad truck parked side by side at the heart of the facility. The recreation area and kitchen branched off to one side, along with the office. The other side held a dormitory, with space for several beds and a locker room.

Roy Desoto splashed water on his face, rinsing off the last of the shaving cream, before patting his skin dry with a towel.

"Hey, Roy?" John Gage called, breaking off his tuneless humming. Roy looked over at the frosted glass of the shower door. "Whatcha wanna bet B shift has some really weird calls today?"

"I'm off today and tomorrow," Roy said as he turned back to the mirror and leaned in closer to make sure he hadn't missed any spots, "and I am not going to think about B shift, or C shift, or any weird calls."

Johnny snorted from the shower. "Well, I bet there's gonna be some interesting reports to read. We've had the full moon shifts for the past 3 months, and I for one am glad some one else has it this time!"

"You and your full moon," Roy muttered. Johnny was humming again and didn't hear him, which was probably for the best. Roy ran a hand through his thinning reddish blond hair and tilted his head at the mirror with a disappointed frown. The job kept him in good shape, and he wasn't a vain man by nature, but every now and then Time reminded him of its existence.

He gave his reflection a shrug, and set about the task of getting dressed for the day, not really listening while Johnny expounded on his theories about tidal locks. Roy put on a light jacket against the spring chill, then glanced at the shower as he snagged his half empty cup of coffee from the sink. He shook his head as he left the locker room, wondering how long his partner would talk to himself.

He passed behind the fire truck, and gave the rescue squad a little pat on his way by. Most of the A shift crew had already left, and he could hear the voices of B shift arguing about something in the kitchen. Roy yawned as Captain Stanley came out of the office.

"So," Hank said, and gave a vague wave of his hand at the map that took up the wall space between the office and kitchen doors. "Where are you guys headed for your days off?"

"Some creek up in the hills," Roy said, tapping the map to indicate the general area. "Johnny heard about it from a guy up at eighty-six's, and it's all he's been talking about for a week."

Hank shook his head. "Johnny's fishing spots never have any fish. Nobody'll go with you guys any more."

Roy took another swallow of the coffee as he studied the map. It was a good drive away, just at the edge of LA county. "Tell ya the truth, it used to bug me but now I kind of like it. Bad fishing spots means fewer people. Fewer people means fate has fewer opportunities to ruin my day off with people falling off of cliffs or drowning in lakes."

Roy gestured at the map with his cup before taking another sip. "You should come with us sometime, Cap. It's kind of relaxing, just getting away for a bit. The wife, the kids, the house... you know."

"Yeah," Hank said, the word coming out as a sigh. "Yeah, I love 'em to death, but I know exactly what you mean." He scrunched up his nose in distaste. "But I hate the smell of fish."

Roy shrugged. "Sounds like it would work out just fine."

Hank laughed as he gave him a clap on the shoulder, then headed into the kitchen.

Johnny's outraged, muffled voice suddenly drifted across the bay, finally noticing that he was alone. Roy studied the map for a few moments, his smile fading into a little frown. "Great," he muttered to himself. He finished off the coffee and headed for the kitchen. "Now he's got me thinking about full moons."

"Yeah," Hank was saying to the phone near the door as Roy entered. "I'm on my way now. See ya in a bit, honey." A couple of the B shift guys worked on clearing the table while the others dragged the chairs over to face the blackboard, their captain already scrawling a chalk diagram. Hank looked over as he hung up the phone. "Marco left omelets in the oven for you guys."

Roy cheered up at that, rinsed out the cup, and set it in the dish drainer. He didn't make it to the oven.

Johnny came rushing into the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower, and scooped up a bowl of grapes from the table. He shoved the bowl at Roy, then left as fast as he came. "Let's go, already," he shouted from the bay. "We're burnin' daylight!"

Roy looked down at 'breakfast', then cast a wistful glance at the oven.

One of the B shift guys, Kyle, shook his head. "I don't know how you can stand him, Roy."

Roy just shrugged as he left.

"Get a haircut, Gage!" Hank shouted after them.

The sun had won the battle with the mist. Roy squinted a little in the brightness, popping a grape in his mouth as he walked onto the back parking lot behind the fire station.

Johnny had stopped half way to the row of parked cars to look back at the station. "Get a haircut," he mocked sarcastically as Roy caught up to him. He started towards the cars, then spun around and stopped again so suddenly that Roy nearly plowed into him, gagging on the grape. "Roy, tell me something," Johnny demanded, bracing one hand on his hip and waving the other as he spoke. "I'm a good paramedic, right?"

Roy managed to choke down the half chewed fruit, coughing as he thumped his chest. "Sure you are," he said, and cleared his throat.

"So why does my hair matter?" Johnny carried on, oblivious. "Get a haircut," he muttered again. "I mean, it's not like it looks bad." He paused, thought about it for a second, then looked back at Roy with sudden paranoia. "Does it look bad?"

"Uhm," Roy stammered. "Ask Dixie."

"Well I'm asking you, cuz I know you'll be straight with me. Do I look bad?" He ran a hand through his hair until it was a shaggy black mess hanging in his face and clinging to his neck in wet waves nearly to his shoulders.

Roy stared at him. "W-well, to be honest... I kinda like it longer. It suits you. But you know," he added quickly, "It is kinda long, even for you. Pretty soon, Chet's gonna be offering to braid it."

Johnny huffed, and turned on his heel to walk away. "You're no help at all," he tossed over his shoulder, then sighed. "Fine, I'll get it cut. Just irritates me that everyone has to have the same cookie cutter boy scout hair to qualify as 'respectable', you know?"

Roy hummed an agreement, but ate another grape to avoid having to say anything as they reached Johnny's white and red pickup truck. It was the latest in a string of used vehicles; old, rusted, and covered with a thick layer of road dust.

"Are you sure this thing is going to get us there?" Roy asked.

"It's fine, quit harping on it." Johnny reached into the open bed of the truck to fish a jacket out of the pile of camping and fishing gear. "My truck, I'm driving," he added, pointing at his chest as he shoved an arm into a sleeve. Roy shrugged good naturedly and changed directions for the other side. "You know," Johnny said as he opened the driver's door, "that time Joanne and the kids came with us was kinda nice. We ever gonna do that again?"

"Sure, everyone had a good time," Roy answered, getting into the truck. "Joanne's taking the kids to visit her mother this week, though. We've decided it's best for everyone if her mother and I keep apart." Roy shook his head, and closed the door. "She just can't stand me."

"Yeah, well," Johnny said as he started up the engine and backed out of the parking space. "I hope I never meet her. The woman must be psychotic." Johnny plucked a handful of grapes out of the bowl, and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth as he drove down the driveway. "How could anyone possibly not like you?" he asked around his mouthful of food, barely intelligible. "It's just not possible."

Roy paused in the act of rolling down the window, eyebrows raised in surprise at the offhanded compliment. He looked down at the handle, hiding a self conscious little smile as they pulled out into traffic.

He didn't pay attention to where they were going, content to enjoy the scenery and his breakfast as the busy city streets gradually gave way to tree lined roads climbing into the countryside. Eventually, however, they found themselves on a winding road with trees and brush covering the hillside above them on one side, while the other side dropped off sharply into a breathtaking vista.

A map replaced the empty bowl, stretched out with both hands as Roy scanned the tiny print. He roughly folded the paper without care to the creases. "This road isn't on the map."

"That map is brand new," Johnny said. "This is why I'm the navigator when the squad goes out on a call. You're—"

"You're the navigator cuz I'm a better driver," Roy cut him off, his voice starting to rise with annoyance as he waved the map. "I know how to read a map. I'm telling you, this road is not on this map."

"Listen," Johnny said, looking over as he tried to snatch the map out of the air.

"Road!" Roy barked, smacking the offending hand away, and Johnny quickly turned back.

They drove in silence for a few seconds.

"Okay, fine." Johnny pulled into the dirt shoulder and put the truck in park. He reached for the map, but Roy held it out the window. He made a circling gesture with his other hand. Johnny breathed an irritated huff through his nose, then got out of the car. He slammed the door as Roy scooted across the bench seat, then slammed the passenger door closed as well after getting back in.

Roy wordlessly passed the crumpled map to him. He draped an arm over the steering wheel and watched as Johnny opened the map with an impatient flick of his wrist. After a minute, Johnny's annoyance changed to confusion. He twisted around to look out the rear window of the truck's cab, then back at the map. "This road isn't on the map." He turned back to the windshield and peered up at the hillside that loomed over them. "Where are we?"

Roy took a slow, deep breath and held it for a moment before putting the truck into gear. "We passed a gas station a little while ago," he said as he pulled back onto the road in a tight u-turn. "I'm going to get directions."

"We don't need directions," Johnny said, unfolding the map more. "I can figure this out, just give me a minute. I need some sort of landmark or something, that's all."

Roy ignored him, squinting into the distance as they came around a turn in the road. "What's that?"

Johnny looked up from the map and followed Roy's gaze. A green car straddled the lanes with a mound of rocks and dirt piled up against it.

"Rock slide?" Johnny asked as they came to a stop.

"Looks like it," Roy said, giving the car a careful scrutiny. "I don't see anyone."

"The driver must have left to get help," Johnny said. He looked up at the hillside as a few pebbles slid down to join their brethren on the road. "We should call this in before some—"

The car surged forward, born aloft on a tidal wave of mud, rock, and shrubs. It slammed into the truck with a deafening roar of tortured metal and snapping tree branches.

Both vehicles plowed through the guardrail and disappeared over the edge.