To See the Light  continued


Over the next 48 hours, Roy arranged to have different firefighters sit with Johnny so he was never alone. 

Each man that spent time with Johnny either read the newspaper to him or brought him up to date on department gossip.  Mostly, they just sat by the stricken man as he slept.  Some observed Johnny going through one of his many nightmares.  Chet was the most visibly shaken by Johnny's nightmare and discussed it openly when the group had their first therapy session.

As Johnny's pain meds were reduced, his awareness level increased.

"Hey Marco, how are you doing?"

"Johnny?  How did you know it's me?"  Asked the startled man.

In a gravelly voice, Johnny answered, "I can hear you breathing and I can smell your aftershave."  Johnny laughed.

Marco shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the information Johnny passed along to him.  Changing subjects Marco said, "So today's the big day, isn't it."

"Yes, if you mean that Dr. Grainger will be checking my eyes."  Johnny said with some anger.  He was afraid the damage to his left eye was permanent.

"Come on John, you have to have faith, mi amigo."

Johnny smiled.  "Marco, always the optimist."

"Well, someone has to be.  Look, I gotta go.  I know Roy'll be here later.  Are you okay?"

Johnny didn't want to inconvenience his coworkers anymore.  "Yeah Marco, I'll be okay.  Between Brackett, Morton and Dixie, they'll keep an eye on me.  Plus I'm kinda tired.  I had a rough night. I'm just gonna listen to some music."

"Okay John.  I'll stop by to help with..." Marco trailed off.

"I know Marco, the funeral for Adam.  Roy already told me the plan.  It's okay Marco.  Go home."

Marco wanted to say something more on the subject, but he could feel Johnny dismissing him, so he got up from his chair to leave. Before walking out the door, he turned. "I'll see you later, John," he said, his usual mirth nonexistent. When Johnny failed to reply, Marco shook his head, stepped into the hallway and allowed the door to close. "Let him be okay." Marco said, his eyes looking skywards.

After hearing the door close, Johnny reached for the table ahead of him and turned on his portable radio.  He liked listening to soft rock.  It was soothing and unobtrusive.  He tried not to think about his eyes. He was terrified of what Dr. Grainger would find when the bandages were removed.

It was bad enough living with the flashbacks since waking from his surgery.  The images he saw in his mind were vivid, bloody, and horrific. Adams' voice, weak, pleaded with him for help.  Just seeing this over and over again, caused Johnny to shudder.  He preferred to be on the pain meds as they allowed him sleep and forget.

Johnny was listening to the music when he heard the door to his room open then someone entered. Reaching over, he turned off his radio and listened more closely. He could hear the sound of something being pushed into his room, along with two different sets of footsteps. Suddenly another set of footsteps joined the first two, only this time a voice came with them. "Hi Johnny. It's me Nicky," the nurse said cheerfully.  "We're gonna transfer you over to the gurney and wheel you to an exam room, where Dr. Grainger can better examine your eyes. Are you ready?" she said.

"Yeah. I guess. Ready as I ever will be," Johnny replied somberly.

"It'll be okay, Johnny. Have some faith. Let us do the work, you just relax." Nicky said patting the paramedic on the arm. "Okay guys, be careful of his arm and ankle when you move him."

Seconds later, Johnny was transferred to the stretcher and was wheeled out of the room. As they wheeled him down the hallway to the elevator, he remained quiet. He could hear people around him, their voices hushed as they whispered. He wondered if they were staring at him. "I don't care," he thought. Suddenly the gurney came to a stop, he figured they were waiting for the elevator. Then he heard the voice a small child. "Mommy, what's wrong with that man? Why does he have those bandages on his eyes?" the child said loudly.

"Hush, Billy," a woman said, her voice fading as she walked away.

"I don't care what people think," Johnny thought seconds before he felt the gurney moving again. He felt the jostle of the wheels as they traveled over the steel on the floor that separated the elevator from the floor.  "I wonder what floor I'm on," he thought as the doors closed.

'One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine seconds." The elevator slightly jerked to a stop.  "I must be on the 7th floor. I guess I should ask Nicky when I get back. It's a long way to the ground from the outside from the seventh. I can still remember struggling with that patient who was hyped up on drugs on the ledge of the hospital. I was never so thankful to see Roy's face when the snorkel finally arrived at the edge of the ledge. It was all Roy and I could do to hold him, and then I had to inject the Diazepam. Damn, I remember I almost injected the drug into myself. That would have been great. I wouldn't have known what hit me falling off that ledge. There would have been nothing anyone on the ground could have done for me. They would have watched me die. My friends would have watched me die. Oh god Adam.... Dammit, why.'

"Hi Johnny."  Brackett said walking up beside the stretcher.

Johnny jerked hearing Brackets voice, he had been so deep in thought he hadn't realized he arrived. "Doc," he croaked.

"Relax, Johnny. Doctor Grainger will be here in a couple minutes," he said, patting his friend on the shoulder.  "And we are gonna keep you on the stretcher instead of moving you to an exam bed.  We don't need to jostle you around any more than we have already."

Johnny didn't respond to Brackett's sympathetic tone.  Instead he began to think about what would happen in five minutes after the doctor removed the bandages. "Will I get my sight back?" he wondered. "Can't very well do my job if I'm blind, but then I don't deserve to see. Adam doesn't deserve to be dead. He won't ever have the chance to play with his kid. Oh shit, I wonder how Janice is doing?"

As they waited for Doctor Grainger's arrival, Brackett noticed Johnny becoming tense. Sweat began to form on the younger man's brow, and he showed signs of becoming agitated. "Johnny," Brackett voiced. "Relax, okay," he said placing his hand his friend's arm.  Just then the door to the exam room opened. Johnny listened and could hear soft footsteps approach the gurney. He sniffed, and could smell a very light fragrance. He couldn't put a name to it, but was certain it was something a woman would use. 

"Hi Dr Grainger," he said, trusting he was correct.

"Hello, Johnny.  I see your other senses are helping you out."  Grainger said.

Johnny smiled.  "Yup, I'm getting kinda good at this. Just listening and smelling can tell a person a lot."

"Well don't get used to it, Johnny."  Brackett said with confidence.

Johnny had his doubts but didn't say anything.

"Now, Johnny, I'm going to take the wrap off and the remove the bandage from your right eye.  I'm going to lower the lights in here so there will be minimal strain.  Don't open your eye until I tell you to.  Once this is done, I'll do the same to the left eye.  If you have any questions, just ask.  Are you ready?"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders.  "Might as well get this over with."

A nurse, who was in the room, drew the window shades closed. Then the lights were lowered. Johnny could hear the movement in the room, and he could almost feel the room darkening.  Then he felt Doctor Grainger's hands removing the wrap covering the eye patches. Once the wrap was removed, he shivered when the doctor's hand touched his face. It felt icy cold. He wondered if all doctors had cold hands, cause from what he could remember, every time he was examined, whoever was doing the exam always had cold hands. 

"Alright Johnny. The bandage is off your right eye. Now open your eye slowly."

Johnny did as he was told.  

"Now Johnny, what do you see?  Is it blurry or can you see me?"

Johnny tilted his head toward her voice and looked up, but didn't see anything.  "Well Doc, I hear ya, but I don't see you."

Grainger was surprised by his answer.  "Johnny, I'm going to take the penlight out and check your pupil response.  The eye muscle will probably hurt when I look in your eye.  Try not to close it."

Grainger took the penlight out.  She opened Johnny's eye wide, holding the lids with her left hand.  With her right hand, she turned the penlight on.  She flashed it in Johnny's eye, but he didn't flinch.  His pupil responded to the light, but Johnny didn't say a word.

"Okay Johnny.  I'm going to cover this eye up and do the same for the left eye."  She proceeded to bandage the right eye and undo the bandaging on his left, more seriously damaged eye.

With the bandage off, Johnny blinked his eye several times.  "It hurts a bit."

"What hurts, Johnny?"

"The inside hurts."

"Inside the lid or inside the eye."

Johnny thought for a minute.  "The eye."

"What's your vision like?  What do you see?"

Again, Johnny was quiet.  He turned his head and then shook it.  "Nuthin'."

Dr. Grainger sighed.  "Alright Johnny, I'm going to use the pen light again.  Let me do all of the work."  She held his lid open with her left hand and flashed the light in his eye.  She saw the wounds were healing nicely but couldn't see how the injury would be causing him pain.  His pupil reacted to the penlight, which she was pleased to see.

"Johnny, I'm going to bandage this eye back up and then we'll talk."

"Okay Doc." 

*&*&*&*&*


Roy waited outside the exam room while Doctor Grainger was examining his best friend. He kicked himself for not being there for Johnny sooner. He wanted to give Johnny his reassurance that everything would be okay, before he was examined.  But a traffic accident on his way to the hospital detained him. The paramedic in him needed to stay and aid the injured people who were still waiting on emergency crews to arrive.

Once he was able to leave the scene, he arrived to the hospital and couldn't find a parking space in the visitors parking area. Totally discouraged after driving around the lot for a second time, he headed for the staff parking lot.

As he hurried into the ER he found Dixie waiting. "I'm sorry," she said, "you'll have to wait Roy. Kel and Doctor Grainger are already examining Johnny's eyes."  Her words made his stomach lurch. He had to swallow several times to settle it, but he still felt squeamish.

"Be okay, Junior," he whispered, leaning his head back against the wall.

*&*&*&*&*


Once Dr. Grainger was done, the nurse turned the lights back on and opened the shades.  "Your left eye is healing nicely Johnny.  I want to keep the bandages on for a few more days.  That will give your eye a chance to heal more and the pain you are experiencing will be a thing of the past."

With her services no longer being required, the nurse who had been helping out in the room opened the door to leave. Roy immediately stepped forward when he saw the door open. He reached out and held the door, until the nurse was out of the way. He then started to walk into the room, but abruptly stopped in his tracks, and paled, when he heard Johnny's speak.

"How come I can't see anything?"  Johnny asked.

Roy looked over at Brackett who was about to answer, but Grainger raised her hand since the question was posed to her.

"Johnny, your eyes are responding to the light.  I will want to run some more tests to see if there was anything else that happened.  You did suffer a mild concussion, which can sometimes have an affect on a person's vision, and with the trauma to your eyes, they may just need a few more days, that's all," she said.

"What aren't you saying, doc?" 

"Can't get one over you, Johnny, can I?"

Johnny smiled, "No, you can't.  And it's okay to answer in front of Roy."

Roy was shocked when he heard Johnny say his name. Knowing that Johnny knew he was in the room, Roy walked closer to his bed.  "Hi Johnny."

"Hi Roy.  Okay, Doctor Grainger, you were gonna say why I can't see."

Grainger looked at Brackett.  The room was silent as everyone waited for her to speak.  "John, I think part of the problem is that you had a terrible shock to your system and you are not ready to see yet."

"So it's all in my mind.  Is that what you're saying?" 

This time, Brackett held his hand up to answer Johnny.  "It's not uncommon that this type of trauma causes a temporary blindness.  We will let Dr Grainger run her tests to rule out the physical."

"And once that's done, and you don't find anything, then it's all in my mind.  Isn't that great.  Why wouldn't I want to see?  Can anyone answer that?"  Johnny's voice showed the strain.

"Johnny, no one is saying that you don't want to see.  Let's do the medical tests first before you jump to conclusions." 

"Great.  Just great."  Johnny shook his head in disbelief.  "I guess I'll go to the funeral wrapped liked this."

"You still want to go?"  Roy asked.

"Roy, Adam was my friend.  I have to go."

"Johnny…."

"Roy, don't argue with me on this cause you won't win."  Johnny leaned back on the hard pillow they used on the gurneys.  The strain of the last several minutes took their toll on him.  "I'm tired.  I wanna rest."

"Okay, Johnny. I'll send the orderlies in to take you back upstairs," Brackett said patting his friend on the shoulder. "It should only be a few seconds, and then you'll be on your way. Once you're settled in your room, I'll be in to check on you."

"I'll arrange for the next tests Johnny.  They'll take place later today." Doctor Granger said.

Johnny made no attempt to speak to either of the doctors. He lay on the gurney motionless, with his head turned away.

Brackett gave Roy a somber look as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and followed Dr. Grainger out of the room. He wanted to speak to Sheila before she headed back upstairs to her office. Just as they walked out of the room, the two orderlies walked in. In seconds they had the stretcher moving and were headed to the elevator.

It was a heart-rending experience for Roy the moment he stepped into the exam room and discovered his best friend could not see. He silently walked along side the gurney as they wheeled Johnny back to his room. He could almost feel the pain emanating from his friend. Suddenly an intense feeling of guilt washed over the paramedic as he thought about the accident again.

"Hi Johnny," Nicky said walking up to the stretcher that was being wheeled off the elevator. "Let's get you settled back into your room." The group walked down the hallway to the single room. Nicky turned to Roy. "Roy would you mind waiting outside until we have him settled."

Roy nodded then stuffed his hands into his jeans. He began to pace outside the hospital room. His mind drifted back to what was said in the exam room only moments before. "How come I can't see anything?"  Johnny's words made him shiver. "Oh Junior, I wish this wasn't happening to you," he whispered. The orderlies' leaving the room startled Roy from his thoughts. He waited a bit longer until Nicky came out. "How is he?"

"He's trying hard to put up a good front, but he's losing the battle, Roy. I don't know though if he wants company, but you can try."

"Thanks, Nicky," Roy said trying hard to force a smile on his face.

"Roy," Nicky said, "he needs a few more days."

"I hope that's all it is, Nicky," Roy replied, sadness pouring from his eyes. Nicky gave her best nurse's smile, patted Roy on the arm then walked away.

With the nurse gone, Roy took a deep breath, released it, and then pushed the door open. Before he could take more than two steps into the room, Johnny spoke. "Roy, go home.  I don't need to be babysat."

"I'm not babysitting you, Johnny."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm looking after my best friend who may, just may need his best friend now."

Johnny looked in the direction of Roy's voice but didn't say anything.

"Okay, Pally, I won't fight you on this.  But don't try to change my mind about the funeral.  I am going."

"Why, Johnny?  What purpose does it serve?" Roy asked, letting the door close behind him.

Johnny shifted in his bed.  "Roy, Janice needs to see me.  I need to be there to say good-bye.  You wouldn't understand Roy."

"Try me Johnny.  Why wouldn't I understand?"

Johnny wasn't ready to answer Roy.  He wasn't ready to say that he should be dead and not Adam. 

"You just wouldn't.  That's all."  Johnny turned his head away indicating he didn't want to talk anymore.

"Tell me one thing, Johnny.  How come you weren't driving the squad?  Is that the reason you are so upset?  Do you blame yourself for riding shotgun?"

Johnny raised his right arm to his head and leaned on it.  The expression on his face was pure anguish.  "Roy, please leave now.  I want to rest.  It's been a tiring morning and with the tests later, I know I'm gonna have to rest now."

As much as Roy didn't want to leave his friend, he knew he had to. Johnny was closing him out. He hoped that maybe some rest would make Johnny feel better. "Who are you kidding, Roy," he admonished himself. "If he doesn't get his sight back, he will never feel okay. I won't feel okay. Dammit, why did this have to happen?"  Roy grasped the handle on the door, but before he opened it, he looked at Johnny.  "This isn't over Junior."

When Johnny was sure Roy had left the room, he grabbed the radio that was on his table and threw it across the room. When it hit the wall, bits and pieces flew in several directions.

Roy sighed heavily as he leaned his head against the wall outside his friend's room. He jumped when he heard the unmistakable noise from something thrown against the wall and breaking. He fought the urge to run back inside, to comfort his friend. "Somehow, some way, we are all gonna get through this, Johnny," he whispered.

*&*&*&*&*


"How do I look?"  Johnny asked Dixie, who was helping him dress in his Fire Department dress uniform.  He was still shaky from his injuries and Dixie was there for physical and moral support

"You look just fine Johnny."  She answered, patting him on the shoulder as she smoothed the material.

"You're wearing Opium, aren't you?"  Johnny faced the direction he thought Dixie was standing in.

"Why John Gage, how do you know?"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders and a slight crooked grin appeared on his face.  He was about to answer when Roy entered the room also attired in his dress uniform.  "Hi Dix, hi Johnny."

Johnny turned blindly towards Roy's voice, his eyes still covered over with bandages.  "Hi Roy.  I was just asking Dixie how I looked."

"You look okay Johnny."

"Thanks."  He said noticing the tone of voice Roy was using.  "Something wrong?"

Roy sighed.  "I just don't think you should be doing this Johnny."

"Look Roy, I thought we settled this last night.  You said that if Dr. Grainger said it was okay for me to leave the hospital today for the funeral, you wouldn't try to stop me."

"I'm not trying to stop you, I just don't think you're ready for this."

"Roy, I have to be there."  Johnny emphasized each word, not being able to read Roy's expression; he plowed on, in argument mode.  "Either you're going to drive me there, or I'll call a taxi, but either way, I'm going." 

"Johnny, I don't want to argue with you, I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."

Johnny sighed.  "I know what I'm doing, Roy.  Believe me, I have to be there today."

"Alright then, come on."  Dixie and Roy settled Johnny into his wheelchair.  "Bye Dix."  Roy pushed Johnny's wheelchair towards the door.

"Bye Dix."  Johnny called over his shoulder, waving his hand as Roy pushed him out the door.  "See ya later."  Johnny chuckled, but he knew his comment was in bad taste and he really didn't care.

*&*&*&*&*

Roy helped Johnny out of the car and into the wheelchair at the church.  Marco, Mike and Chet came over to help maneuver the wheelchair up the stone stairway leading up to the front doors of the large Gothic church.

"Hey there buddy.  Good to see you up and around."  Chet patted Johnny's shoulder.

"Hey Chet."  'He's wearing that aftershave I hate.'

"Johnny, we're all happy to see you, I just wish. . . "  Marco trailed off.

"Yeah," Mike took up where he left off.  "That it'd been under better circumstances."

"I know."  Johnny agreed, nodding his head solemnly.

"Okay, on the count of three, we'll lift the chair and carry it up the steps."  Roy instructed.  "Ready?  One, two, three."  Used to working together as a team while carrying victims out of harm's way on backboards, the men effortlessly carried Johnny's wheelchair to the top of the steps.

"Thanks guys."  Johnny told his friends.

Roy pushed him into the church, parked his wheelchair in back of the last pew, out of the aisle.  "Johnny, I'll be back in a minute, I need to see if JoAnne's here yet."  He patted Johnny on the shoulder.

"Okay."  Johnny nodded, as Roy walked back out of the church.

Roy motioned for the rest of his crewmates to follow him back down the stairs.  Hank joined them there.  "Hey Roy, I see that Johnny's here."

"Yeah.  I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he is."

"Stubborn."  Hank answered.

"Well, I'm on Johnny's side in this, I think he needs to be here."  Marco said softly. 

"Me too."  Chet agreed.  "Johnny needs to have his chance to say good-bye."

"Yeah, but. . ."  Roy started.

"But what?"  Hank asked.

"I don't know, I just get the feeling that today's going to be too much for him."  Roy said, pointing at the news vans already pulling up on the opposite side of the street from the church.

"Tell you what, let's all make a promise to keep those vultures away from Johnny."  Hank suggested.

Roy looked around the group, seeing the other men nodding their agreement.  "Alright."

*&*&*&*&*


'I sit in the dark, hearing the world moving at its hurried pace all around me.  Someone with high-heeled shoes was walking past, the shoes making that distinctive tapping noise against the wooden floor. Funny the things you can figure out just by hearing them.  Ooh, it's gotta be a woman, I can just smell that perfume.  Man this must be a huge church.  Those voices echoing, they sound really far away.  It's strange how fast your other senses seem to take over when one of them is out of commission.  I never stopped to think how much I was missing, when I could see.'

'What's that?'  I thought, hearing the rustling noise of fabric.  'Another woman?  No, that can't be it, sounds too low to the floor.  Are long skirts back?  Hope not.'

"Excuse me son."  I heard a male's voice say as the rustling noise passed by me.

'That's the priest.'  I half-grinned with pride for figuring that one out on my own.

I heard movement again.  'Sounds like someone's carrying something heavy, or awkward.'  The smell of lilies filled my nose.  'Flowers.  Someone must be carrying flowers in.'

"Hi Johnny."  I heard the one voice I was waiting for.

"Janice.  Hi, how are you doing?"  She said softly. I reached out blindly for her.

She leaned over and kissed my cheek, holding my hand in hers. I felt her sit down in the pew next to me.  "I'm holding up."

I heard what she said but I didn't believe her.  "Janice, I don't know how to say how sorry I am." 

"I think you just did."  Janice said softly.  "How are you doing?"

"Getting better, I guess."  I answered.

"And your eyes?"

"Still too soon to know."  A long silence lingered in the air.  "Janice, you know if there's ever anything I can do for you, don't hesitate..."

"Yeah, I know, Johnny.  Look, I know this is hard for you too; you and Adam were such good friends and all.  I just wanted you to know that I'm glad he wasn't… wasn't alone when it happened."  Janice took a deep breath to control her emotions.

"There wasn't much I could do, I was pinned down."  I told her, wishing I had something better to tell her.

"I know, but you were there with him."  Janice stood up abruptly and squeezed my hand.  "I've got to go."

"Okay."  I said, releasing her hand.  I'll see you at the cemetery.  I let out a heavy sigh as Janice walked away.  I heard someone sneezing up front to my left.  'Must be all those flowers.'  Another familiar smell became apparent - JoAnne.  "Hi Jo."

She bent over and placed a kiss on my forehead.  "You recognized me."

"Yeah, I'm getting to be a fine connoisseur of perfumes."  I smiled, hearing JoAnne chuckle.

"You okay?  I just saw Janice leave."  She asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay…so far."

"Well, I'll stick close by in case you need me."  She brushed my long bangs back from overhanging the bandages.

"Jo, brushing the hair out of my eyes isn't going to make me see any better this time."  I teased, smiling, hoping to lighten the mood.

JoAnne laughed softly.  "Force of habit.  You're impossible, Johnny." She lightly tapped me on my shoulder.

"I know." 

I heard footsteps approach again, along with the faint sounds of bagpipes.

"Johnny, after they bring the casket in, I'm gonna move you closer.  Jo, why don't you go save us some seats, make sure we're on the aisle."  I heard Roy explain.

"Sure Roy."  JoAnne answered, leaning over and kissing my cheek again.

"How you doing Johnny?"  Roy asked.

"Jeez, is everybody gonna ask me the same thing?  I'm doing okay Roy.  Stop worrying."  I told him. 

"Sorry."  He answered.

"What is with everybody anyway?  Can't they see I can handle being here?  No, not handle, need to be here."  The bagpipes are getting closer and people are shuffling in.  Many people.  'Sounds like it's gonna be a full house in spite of how big this church is.'  When the shuffling of feet stopped, I heard the heavy tread of the pallbearers as they carried their load into the church.  The rustling of the priest's robes followed behind

'I bet you could hear a pin drop in here, it's so quiet.'  My wheelchair began moving.  'I wonder if they're all staring at me now?  Good thing I can't see them.'  My wheelchair came to a stop, and I felt Roy brush past me as he entered the pew.  The church was filled with the somber music of the organ as the service started. 

As the priest continued the service, I reached over to scratch my knee, and my hand brushed against something.  I reached out a little further, surprised to feel fabric.  'What is that?'  I rubbed it between my thumb and fingers.  'Feels starchy.  I thought Roy was supposed to put me in the aisle.  There shouldn't be anything here.' 

Then it hit me.  I remembered where I felt that type of fabric before.  'It's a flag!'  My mind whirled as I realized Roy parked me just behind and off to the side of Adam's casket.  I reached out a little farther, swinging my hand from side to side, not caring if anyone else was looking, and found the smooth silky wood of the casket.  'It should have been me.'  My mind replayed over and over.  'I should have driven.  Adam, you should be here with Janice, not me.'  I was glad for the bandages, hiding my eyes from the world. I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing the guilt written in them or the tears flowing from them.

The service ended and I felt the flag brush against my arm as the casket was moved past me towards the back of the church.  Almost immediately, Roy brushed past me again and my wheelchair was turned around and pushed behind the casket. I can hear people sucking back their breath, trying hard not to shed tears. These sounds mingle with others blowing their noses as my chair is pushed slowly along the aisle. Even though I can't see anything, I sit up straight in my chair and keep my empty gaze focused ahead of me. I can't bring myself to let everyone know how hard all of this is for me. Adam was not just a friend; he was, like Roy, a brother of sorts. Why did I stay out of his life for so long? We never had a chance to catch up before…'OH Adam. Dammit why did this have to happen? Why did this have to happen now?  Why did it have to happen at all?'

I could feel the sun on my face when we reached the doorway to the church.  "Hang on a second Johnny, I got to get the rest of the guys together to get you down."  Roy told me, leaving me there by myself. 

I tilted my face up towards the sun.  'I bet it's a beautiful day out.'  I tried to picture in my mind what a deep shade of blue the sky would be and the brightness of the sun, a fuzzy halo of light around it.  "Ready Johnny?"  Chet asked behind me to the left.

"Yeah, sure."  I answered.

"Okay guys, same as before, on three."  I heard Marco behind me to the right.  "One, two, three."

My wheelchair was lifted, and jostled down the stairs, and gently set on the ground again.  I could hear the rumble of a diesel engine.  "Which one?"  I asked, pointing in the direction of the rumble.

"10's."  Roy answered.

"The Ward, huh?" 

"How'd you know?"  Mike asked astonished.

"You're the engineer Mike, didn't you ever notice how they sound different from the old Crowns?"

"No, can't say that I have."  Mike admitted thoughtfully.

"Fireman Gage, would you like to comment on the accident."  I heard a female voice call out to me from nearby.

"What?"  I asked caught by surprise as I turned my head in the direction of the question.

"Mike, take Johnny over by the engine."  I heard Roy take charge as my wheelchair was briskly pushed away.  "Mr. Gage has no comment at this time.  If you want any information, you'll have to talk to the public relations department at headquarters."

"Mike what's going on?"  I asked confused.

"Reporters, Johnny."  Mike explained as he patted my shoulder.

"Yeah, the accident's been big news ever since it happened.  Especially…"  Mike trailed off.

"Especially what?"

I heard Mike sigh.  "Especially since they haven't caught whoever did this yet."

I fell into silence after that.  I heard Mike and the rest of the guys talking; they were worried about me.  But I couldn't seem to pull myself out of my own thoughts to put their minds at ease.  'Adam, you should be here, you would be able to handle those reporters,'  I thought, once again glad for the bandages hiding the tears I could feel welling up inside my eyes.

Johnny jumped in his chair when he heard the mournful blast come from the engine. Seconds later the rig revved up and began to move, carrying its burden. The sounds of the diesel engine grew louder, then fainter as it pulled away from the curb. 

I was pushed along again.  From previous funerals, I knew I was only one of the dozens, maybe even hundreds of firefighters that followed solemnly behind the Ward that was carrying my friend to his final resting place.  "Who's behind me?"  I asked, finally wondering who exactly was pushing me, since they remained quiet up until now.

"Don't worry Pal, I won't run you into any parked cars."  I heard Cap's deep voice answer as he squeezed my shoulder with one hand.

"Thanks Cap.  I… um… "  I searched my mind for something funny to say, to let him know I was alright, but my mind drew a blank.

"You don't have to say anything. I think we are all feeling the same way."

I nodded my head.  'Oh, Cap, you're so wrong, you all don't know how I'm feeling.  I feel so damn guilty.  I should have been driving.  Roy knows I should have been driving.  He knows I always drove the squad whenever he wasn't there.  Roy… I never stopped to think about him.  God, how guilty he must be feeling too.  If he hadn't left early, it would have been him.  Jeez, it could have been any of us.  If that cinder block had come down a few seconds later, it'd have taken out the engine!  And who would be cruel enough to do something like that?  I heard on the news last night that they had a report of a couple of kids on that bridge.  Kids!  What would give them an idea like that?  Why weren't they in school?  If they'd have been in school, none of this would have happened.'  I willed myself to shut up, when I realized how angry I was becoming about it. I forced myself to unclench my hands, which were knotted up into fists in my lap.

I felt the wheelchair roll over the uneven grass.  'We're getting close,'  I thought just before my wheelchair came to a stop.

"Hi Johnny."  I heard the voice and felt the soft hand squeezing mine.

"Janice."  I acknowledged, squeezing her hand back.  I searched my mind for some words of comfort, but couldn't get past my own guilt to think of anything.  'Great, now I can add feeling guilty about not being able to comfort Adam's wife to my list of sins.'

The graveside service started.  I tuned most of it out, as I sat there in the dark holding my friend's widow's hand.  'And what about the baby?  No father.  He won't even have any memories of him.  All he'll ever know is what other people tell him about his father.'  I felt a shudder pass through me.  'Don't think about it.'  I told myself.  'You've got to make it through this and you won't if you can't stop thinking about it.'

I forced my mind to focus on anything that would stop the other thoughts racing through my head.  I found myself reviewing dosage tables to keep my mind occupied.  It seemed to be working as my emotions came under control. 'Maybe I'll make it through this alright,'  I said to myself.  'When I'm alone, back at the hospital, then I can deal with this.'

"On behalf of the State of California… "  The words slammed into my head, pulling me back into the present, allowing all the memories of the accident to flood into my head again.  "Johnny… "  Adam's dying voice rang through my head over and over, blocking out the sounds of Hank's deep baritone as he presented the flag that draped Adam's casket to Janice.  'Why didn't you let me die?'  I railed at God.  'Adam had so much more to live for.  Who am I, just plain old screwed up Johnny Gage.  You should have taken me.  Look at all the pain everybody's in because you took him instead.  Why would you leave a poor child with no father? Leave a mother to raise a child by herself?  Why did this happen?  You're supposed to be a just God, where's the justice in this?'

"Johnny?"  I heard Janice's voice pull me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Johnny, I'm sorry, but you have to let go of my hand now, I have to go now."

"Sorry."  I said releasing her hand, finally hearing the movement of people around me.  'The service must be over already.  How long have I been out of it?'

"It's okay, Johnny."  She leaned over and kissed my cheek.  "Thanks for being here for me today."

"It's…" I swallowed hard to bury the guilt I heard coming from my voice.  "It's the least I could do."  I felt her tears as she leaned over me.

"You make sure you come and visit me sometime, especially after the baby's born.  I want him to grow up hearing about his father," Janice paused as her emotions were not in control,  "and you knew him well." 

"I will."  I promised, wincing inside at the thought of talking about Adam to his child, but knowing I wouldn't break my promise. Janice squeezed my shoulder one more time and then she was gone.

Moments later, I felt Roy's hand on the same shoulder.  "You ready to go?"

"Not yet."  Johnny choked on his next sentence.  "Can you get me closer?" "There's something I need to do."

"Yeah, sure."  Roy answered, pushing my wheelchair a bit.  "That's as close as I can get.  The grave is right in front of you."

"Thanks, could you give me a minute?"  The question was asked in a whisper.

"Yeah."  I heard Roy's footsteps as he backed away.

I leaned over the side of the wheelchair, feeling around until I found what I wanted.  The earth in my hand was warm from the sunshine.  It felt gritty as I rolled it around in my hand.  'Rest in peace, buddy.'  Holding my hand out in front of me, I let the dirt fall from my hand.  I heard the earth fall, and then tumble as it rolled down the side of the casket.  'It should have been me,'  played through my mind again, tears welling up in my eyes.  I fought back the emotion for a moment, finally finding my voice again.  "Roy?"  I called out.  "I'm ready to go."

*&*&*&*&*


It was Saturday morning, about 11:00am.  Kip stood on a curb among twenty or twenty-five other onlookers in the brilliant spring sunshine.  The usual smog had broken a bit during the night, causing the sky to now appear blue, creating a cheery scene that contrasted sharply with the mood of the somber drama being played out across the street from him.  On the opposite side of the street stood a large Gothic-style church.  At the present time, several uniformed men were carrying a flag-draped casket down the massive stone steps to the sidewalk below.  They moved at an unhurried pace to the back of the waiting fire engine.  Kip had never in his life seen so many firemen.  At least, he assumed they were all firemen.  They were dressed in uniforms that looked like a cross between police uniforms and military dress blues.  The uniformed men were everywhere.  They were the pallbearers.  They were on the fire engine, both inside and out.  They were standing like an honor guard along the sides of the engine, and in two parallel lines leading up to the back of the engine, creating a lane down which the pallbearers were now passing.  They were still filing out of the church and spilling out into the street where many more of them were just milling around now, talking quietly among themselves.  There were others, not in uniforms, some female.  Kip assumed those were friends and family, rather than co-workers.  There was a woman, obviously the deceased's widow, dressed in black and following the casket closely, escorted by some more of the firemen.  Two or three other women were staying nearby to offer her their comfort.  And there was a fireman wearing sunglasses in a wheelchair.  Kip had learned from the news reports that his name was John Gage, and he had been the one riding in the "squad," as he had learned the small fire truck was called, with Adam Pratt, the fireman who was killed.  They had both been paramedics, which meant they didn't just spray water on burning things, but they also gave medical treatment to sick and injured people.  There was also a lot of the color black obvious in the scene before him.  A great many of the people were dressed in black.  All the firemen, and there were now probably two hundred or more watching as the casket was being placed on the engine, were wearing black armbands.  And the engine itself had black bunting draped and hanging tastefully from it in several locations.  Kip saw several police cars, a red fire chief's car, and a squad ready as well to take part in the procession to the cemetery.  All of this was being recorded by cameras from at least four television stations.  Three of them had preceded the pallbearers as they descended the steps with the casket and were now recording the deceased's final ascent to the engine, and one had been shoved briefly, along with a microphone, into the face of the wheelchair-bound paramedic.

Kip had only attended one funeral in his twelve years that of his grandfather a couple of years ago.  But even with so little experience in this type of event, he knew that it was very personal to the survivors, and shouldn't be exploited by the media.  It made him angry that the cameras were treating it so casually.  He also had learned from the news reports what a "paramedic" did with the fire department.  He had heard the term, but never really knew what one was.  He wondered now how many lives this man Adam Pratt had saved, and if some of those people might even be in the crowd today.  Even if they weren't, though, it was easy to see that the man had had an infinite number of friends.  Kip's grandfather's funeral had been nothing, compared to this.  This one reminded Kip of some politician's funeral, or a celebrity's.  And the widow...Kip could almost feel her grief here, clear across four lanes of traffic.  Oh, she was so sad, and he knew she would never feel okay again and all because he'd picked up a cinder block last week on the way to school.  If he hadn't picked it up, Kevin probably wouldn't even have noticed it.  And that lady would still have her husband.  And, that other paramedic wouldn't be blind and in a wheelchair.  And all these other firemen wouldn't have to be here today, and their nice uniforms would still be on hangers pushed to the backs of their closets.  And that fire truck wouldn't have black cloth on it.  It would probably just be at its station waiting with the men who work there for the alarm to go off.  And Adam Pratt would probably be working there too today, instead of in a stupid wooden box waiting to go into a hole in the ground just because Kip picked up a cement block on the way to school last week.

All of the vehicles had their red lights flashing now.  The big red engine's siren sounded for a few seconds.  Then it pulled away from the curb and slowly, solemnly, began its grim journey to the cemetery with the breeze gently lifting the ends of the black bunting and the corners of the American flag that was lying over the casket.  A couple of the bystanders near Kip glanced in his direction a time or two before he broke and took off running down the street in the opposite direction.  They were very impressed that a boy so young would be so deeply affected by that fireman's funeral.  Even though they themselves were certainly feeling choked up, especially considering the bizarre circumstances surrounding this particular death, the youth was actually, openly crying, with tears rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his T-shirt.  My goodness.  Poor, sweet, little fellow.  Young people today must be far more sensitive than the media and public opinion give them credit for being.

*&*&*&*&*


"Okay, Johnny. I think that just about does it," Nicky said, pulling the sheet and blanket over the exhausted man. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Nicky was a bit more protective of Johnny, knowing he just came back from the funeral.

"No," Johnny said. "I just want to be alone for awhile."

"Okay then. If you do need anything, just use the call button." She put the call button in his hand.  Then, Nicky stood for a few long seconds waiting, but no response was forthcoming from her friend.  Although the rumors around the hospital painted Johnny as a bit of a Casanova, Nicky knew differently. Johnny was a very outgoing person, a people person, and he loved to flirt with the young, and old alike, never meaning anything by it other than to be, just friendly. She smiled remembering the few times they went out together. He was the perfect gentleman the entire time. She realized early on, he was more interested in having the company of a woman, to share his interests, than to make out. She knew she could always count on him, even if it were just for a shoulder to cry on. And now, he needed the shoulder, but she knew he wouldn't openly admit that. "I'll check on you a bit later, Johnny," she said leaving the room.

Johnny threw the blankets that covered him away from him.  He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  After a few long seconds of sitting, he stood, and then began to make his way toward the bathroom, trying to use the wall as a guide. Misjudging the layout of the room, he caught his foot on the leg of the portable table he took his meals on.  "Dammit." He cursed. Bending down so he could rub his sore foot, he banged his head on the table. The anger that was building inside him since he became aware of all the events that took place suddenly erupted. He grabbed the table with his hands and flung it as hard as he could. A loud crash echoed off the walls as the table impacted the floor. The top came apart and the metal pan housed inside bounced across the floor.

Breathing heavily from exertion, Johnny slowly sank to the floor. Drawing his knees in close to his chest, he buried his head and began to weep. "Get out," he yelled when he heard the door fly open.

"Johnny…" Nicky began in a soft, caring voice.

"Go away," he bellowed. "Leave me alone." Johnny yelled through gritted teeth.

Although she didn't want to walk away, Nicky realized Johnny needed some time…time to gather his thoughts, and to grieve. Knowing he wasn't hurt, she left the room, allowing the door to close behind her.

*&*&*&*&*


Roy stood in front of his open locker, removing his civvies. It had only been a couple days since the funeral. His heart wasn't in returning to work, not so much that Johnny wasn't gonna be there. After all, Johnny had been absent from shifts on many occasions. Sometimes due to vacation, or a sick day. Other times, it was because of an injury he sustained from work that kept him away.  Through it all, Johnny always returned to work, eventually.

This time however, Roy wasn't sure that Johnny would be back. The accident that took Adam also took its toll on all the members of the A-shift, affecting Johnny the most of any of them. He remembered the day Hank asked him if he wanted to see pictures of the accident scene. He shuddered and politely declined without even taking the time to think about it. The mental images that lashed through his mind from time to time from what was described to him were quite enough to give him nightmares that would last a lifetime.

"Good morning, Roy," Marco said, entering the locker room.

Roy turned and looked at his friend. "Good morning, Marco," he said forcing a smile on his face.

"How's Johnny?"

"About the same, Marco. He won't talk to anyone, he wants to be left alone."

Marco quickly placed his spare uniforms into his locker. He sensed Roy didn't want to talk. He knew, the entire A-shift knew, and he was certain most of the men within the department knew, when the bandages were removed from Johnny's eyes the day before, the paramedic still couldn't see. "I'll drop by and see him tomorrow after shift," Marco said before heading to the door.

"Thanks, Marco.  I'm sure Johnny would like that." Roy replied, reaching for one of his blue shirts.

Marco nodded then left the room. Roy was glad his friend didn't want to stay and talk. He didn't really feel much like conversing with anyone. His thoughts were enough to keep his mind occupied. He only hoped it would be a busy shift so he didn't have to think so much.

Thinking back, he was pleased when Hank phoned him to let him know Headquarters approved rearranging A-shift's schedule so they could all attend the funeral together. He was certain his Captain had a lot to do with the decision, by making the request, so they could support each other and assist Johnny, who was determined to attend. It was good for Johnny, having his friends close by, but Roy was also happy 'cause his friends were there for him as well.

Unless he was working, Roy always attended any funeral of any departed co-worker, whether he died on the job or from natural causes. Thankfully, the funerals were few and far between. But unlike any he attended before, this one bothered him in ways he couldn't fathom. He desperately wanted to talk to someone about what he was feeling, but there was only one he really thought would remotely understand what consumed him with his own torment and grief.  He knew he was having a difficult time coping, and he didn't want to burden his friend who he knew was having his own problems with coping.

Then another thought plagued his mind. He knew Brice was in next in line for permanent placement to a squad and station. He visibly shivered knowing if Johnny didn't get his sight back, he would be saddled with Brice as a permanent partner. 

He remembered the first time Brice filled in for Johnny right after the car hit his best friend. Brice was formal and direct as he addressed everyone, and his job. Roy cringed remembering how Brice did his job completely by the book.   He chuckled about the label several people within the department placed on Brice - 'The Human Rulebook'.

Rulebook or no rulebook, Roy didn't think he could stand to have the man as a partner. There was just no leeway with Brice. Everything that was done was done his way.  Not that anyone could ever replace Johnny.  Johnny was…well, unique. Everyone liked him. He was… irritating at times when he would go on and on about things, but he was the greatest of friends and proved himself many times over, to be a competent paramedic. He always gave of himself.  He wasn't sure how the latest development would affect his friend, but he would be there for Johnny and do all he could to help him get through the rough times.

Putting the finishing touches to his uniform, Roy closed the door to his locker. "Well I guess I better grab a cup of coffee before the day begins," he whispered, walking toward the door.  Stepping out into the bay, he noticed the squad was returned and was parked in its usual spot.  Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked over to the little truck. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the passenger's side door was blank. There were no markings anywhere on the truck indicating the squad belonged to the fire department.

'A 'loaner' Squad.' he thought. 'The other one, my squad, must still be in the shop. It must have had more damage done to it than I thought.' Walking over to the equipment compartments, Roy opened the door that held the drug box, biophone, O.B. Kit, defibrillator, trauma box, among other medical supplies they used with their job.  He ran his fingers over each of the individual cases, noticing the newness of them all. He wondered if the old equipment had been mangled in the wreck like the squad was.

'God Junior, how did you survive?'

"DeSoto." Roy cringed. The voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, Brice." He answered coldly, somewhat perturbed that this man interrupted his thoughts.

"Dwyer said we would have go to Rampart for supplies. I'll drive," he said, his voice lacking any emotion.

Without saying a word, Roy closed the compartment door. Then climbed inside the cab of the squad, taking Johnny's position as shotgun. 'Please let Johnny's sight return,' he prayed glancing skyward.

"Did you lock that compartment, DeSoto?" Brice asked, climbing in behind the wheel.

"No, I didn't."

"DeSoto, if the department wanted us to leave the compartments unlocked, locks would never been installed and we wouldn't have been issued keys."

Roy glanced over at his temporary partner.  He hoped that's all Brice would ever be, temporary, and glared at the spectacle-faced man.

*&*&*&*&*


"Kel?"

Brackett looked up from his desk and saw Dr. Grainger peeking into his office.

"Hi Sheila."  Brackett shifted the work on his desk and stood up  "Come on in."

Grainger came into the office and sat down on the couch.  "I have the results of John Gage's test."  She handed the paperwork to Brackett.  "There are no surprises in it.  Johnny should be able to see.  Not necessarily how he saw before.  His left eye is going to need time to heal, but with glasses, he should be able to see 20/20."

"So why can't Johnny see?"  It was a question Brackett asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Well, you know the old adage, if it's not physical, then it's psychological.  We both know what Johnny witnessed, but we don't know what he saw.  Has he spoken to anyone about it?"

Brackett winced.  "No. I tried to talk to Johnny about it, but he fought me every step of the way.  And I know Roy tried to talk with him prior to the funeral.  But since then, Johnny has withdrawn further.  I was thinking of releasing him from the hospital, but…" He trailed off.

Grainger looked at Brackett and frowned.  "I don't think we should start him occupation therapy yet.  But, perhaps we should.  At least it will give him something else to think about and not dwell on the accident."

"Maybe it is time we get Johnny back on his feet and starting to live again.  The rest of Station 51 has gone to therapy to discuss the accident, so I know I can get Johnny to go to.  And I know just the person to see him."

"Who?"

"Dr. Eddie McNeil."

*&*&*&*&*


"Rise and shine Johnny."  Dixie said cheerfully as she entered his room.

Johnny was still in his hospital room.  He no longer sported the thick bandage around both eyes.  Instead, he wore a small bandage over his left eye and sunglasses on top of that.

Johnny shifted in his bed when he heard Dixie come in.

"Hello Dixie."

"Johnny.  I'm here to escort you out of your room for a while.  It's a nice day outside and thought you'd like to feel some fresh air."

Johnny thought about it.  "Nah, Dix.  That's okay."

Dixie frowned.  She knew she'd have to manipulate Johnny to get him out of his room.  Picking up Johnny's hand, Dixie continued, "Well Johnny, it really isn't a request.  I have my orders to get you out of this room.  If I don't I will get in trouble." 

Johnny doubted that, but wasn't in the mood to fight.  "Okay Dixie."

Johnny shifted in his bed and reached for his bathrobe.  After putting it on Dixie helped him into the wheelchair.

Their ride down to the outside lounge area was done in silence.  Dixie knew where she was taking him.  Johnny was going to meet Eddie McNeil.

The first thing Johnny noticed when he was outside was the smell.  The smog was pretty thick.  "You call this fresh air?"

Dixie smiled.  "Well it's not recirculated hospital air."  She patted him on his shoulder. 

As much as Johnny didn't want to admit it, it did feel good to be outside.  He felt the sun on his face, heard the sounds of traffic.  An occasional gust of wind tousled his hair.  His face almost broke out into a smile as he thought about all the times he had been outside, enjoying himself in the great outdoors, taking comfort in all Mother Nature had to offer.  But then, he thought about his friend, and the urge to smile dissipated. 'Adam will never have the opportunity to feel the sun on his face, the wind blow through his hair, or hear the sounds of everyday life around him again, including hearing his child call him "daddy",' Johnny thought as a new ache invaded his heart.

Dixie moved the wheelchair close to a bench.

"Hi Dixie."

"Hi Eddie."

"Who ya got with ya?"

"Eddie, I'd like you to meet Johnny Gage."

"Hello Johnny."

"Hello," Johnny replied, his voice lacking any joy.

"Johnny is a fireman/paramedic with the county."

"So what brings you into this gin joint?"

Johnny falsely laughed.  "Gin joint?  Hardly."  Johnny turned his head toward Eddie's voice.  "Had a bit of an accident," he said pointing to his casted arm, and then to his eyes.

"Johnny?  I'm going to grab a cup of coffee.  Is it okay if I leave you with Eddie for a couple of minutes?" Dixie asked, giving Johnny's shoulder a squeeze.

Even though he really didn't feel up to having company, Johnny didn't want to say no to his friend, nor did he want to appear rude. "Sure Dix," he replied softly.

"I'll bring you back a cup.  Black."  Dixie walked away, letting Johnny think she was going to get the beverages.  In fact she walked away but was still within sight.  She purposely did not wear any perfume today so Johnny wouldn't be able to tell that she was still around. 

"So what are you doing here, Eddie?"  Johnny asked.

"Oh I work here.  I'm a doctor."

"Really.  Can't say I've heard your name around here."

"Well, I'm a specialist and am kinda new to Rampart.  I came from the Bay area."

"Well, welcome to Rampart."  Johnny reached his hand out to shake Eddie's hand, but it was not met.  Johnny shrugged his shoulders.

"So you still didn't tell me what kind of accident you had."

Johnny was confused thinking the doctor would be able to pick up on Johnny's injuries.  Shifting in the wheelchair Johnny started to say something then stopped.

"What kinda doctor are you?"  Johnny asked.

Eddie laughed.  "Guess."

"How can I guess?  I can't see you."

"What does sight have to do with guessing?  Didn't you ever play games as a kid where you were blindfolded?  Didn't you ever play twenty questions?"

Johnny didn't like the fact that this guy was playing with him.  "I don't know what kind of doctor you are, but you are kinda heartless."

"Why do you say that Johnny?"

"Don't you have compassion for patients?  I mean look at me!"

Eddie laughed.  "Look at you.  You are funny Johnny.  Didn't you ever hear of the expression the blind leading the blind?"

Johnny thought about what he just heard.  "You mean, are you telling me you're blind?"

"Bingo.  Give the man a prize."  Eddie stated with a hearty laugh.

Johnny shook his head.  "Sorry, man.  I didn't know."

"Hey it doesn't bother me Johnny."  Changing the subject, Eddie continued, "So, you were about to tell me what kind of accident you were in."

Johnny sat in his chair and didn't immediately answer Eddie.  It suddenly dawned on him.  "What kinda doctor are you?"  He asked with suspicion.

"Johnny, I think you figured that one out.  I'm a psychiatrist."

"A blind psychiatrist?"

"No John.  A psychiatrist."

"I don't need a psychiatrist, blind or sighted."  Johnny said in anger.

Eddie moved closer to Johnny so he could whisper in his ears.  "You may not think so, but you do.  I know it.  Roy knows it.  Kel knows it and Hank knows it.  So you may not want to, but someday you are going to have to face your demons."

Johnny moved back away from the space invasion. "It doesn't matter if the department wants me to.  I won't be in the department much longer."

"Why do you say that?"

"A blind fireman/paramedic.  That's a good one."  The sarcasm was deep.

"So the fire department would fire you, because you were injured on the job.  They wouldn't help you learn another trade or keep you in the department somehow."

"No.  That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

Johnny shifted again.  "What are you trying to do to me?"  Johnny was clearly annoyed.

"Okay.  Johnny.  I'll answer that.  In a nutshell I'm going to help you get over the accident that caused your blindness.  And when we get to the root of your anger, we'll discover why you can't see."

"I can't see because of the accident."

"Agreed.  But it's not physical Johnny."

"But I…"

"Dr Grainger cannot find anything wrong with either of your eyes.  Your left eye has some scars that will heal with time.  But it wouldn't prevent you from seeing.  So," McNeil tapped Johnny's knee, "it's all in your head."

"You're crazy."

Eddie laughed.  "No Johnny, you're the crazy one."  Eddie shifted and stood up.  "I gotta go Johnny.  But I'll see you tomorrow and we'll talk some more." 

Johnny heard some sounds and realized Eddie was walking away with the help of a cane.  He ran his hand through his hair.  Where was Dixie?  He was set up.  He realized he was sitting outside alone and had no way of getting back to his room.  Panic set in.  Johnny felt around his space but couldn't find anything.  He had no idea where he was.  As Johnny's panic started to set in, Dixie wanted to go over and help him.  Eddie put his hand on Dixie's arm.  "Wait Dixie.  I know what I'm doing."

Johnny moved his chair around wildly, trying to find something to hold onto. 

"Is there anyone here?"  Johnny tried to keep calm, but was losing.  He was physically and emotionally lost.  The thrashing around began again.  "Dixie, are you here?"  Dixie's heart was breaking for her friend.  The nurse in her wanted to go over to him and console him, but Eddie's grip was steadfast.

Wildly thrashing around, Johnny fell out of the wheelchair.  "Help me.  Someone please help me," feebly came out of his mouth.

"I better go over there."  Eddie released his grip on Dixie but motioned for here to stay behind.

Using his walking stick, Eddie walked back over to where he believed Johnny lay.  "So how can I help you Johnny?"

Johnny looked up to where he thought the voice was coming from, but didn't answer.

Eddie bent down to Johnny and grabbed onto Johnny's arm.  He helped steady the man so he could stand up.

"Okay, let's find your wheelchair."  Eddie locked his arm through Johnny's uninjured arm.  Using his cane, he swept around until he hit upon the chair.  He moved them both closer to it.  "Stay here."  Eddie released his grip and bent down to right the chair.  He applied the break so the chair wouldn't move.  With the chair next to Johnny, Eddie helped him sit down in it.

"Are you okay, Johnny?"  Eddie asked with true concern in his voice.

"Been better."  Johnny was exhausted.

"You want me to stay with you?"

Johnny took a deep breath before answering.  "How did you know where and how to find me?"

"Years of practice, my boy."  The confidence Eddie gave forth was apparent.

"How long you been blind, Eddie?"

"Johnny, I'll tell you my life story, but you need to answer me something first."

Johnny took in a deep breath in anticipation of the question.  "Go ahead."

"How come you can't see?  What are you afraid to see?"

"Doc, I wish I could tell you.  I don't know!"  It came out as a shout.

"Johnny, you are not telling me the truth.  Let me see if I can figure out what happened."  Eddie moved closer to Johnny to speak with him.  He changed his tone; he softened it.  "It was a regular fire; nothing out of the ordinary.  You and your partner…"

"Temporary partner."  

"Okay, you and your temporary partner were coming back from your run.  Then, the accident occurred. I believe you didn't lose consciousness and saw some things that you are having a hard time dealing with."

"Doc, I see accident victims all of the time."

"Yes, John, you do.  But when you and Roy are going to a scene you have time to prepare yourself for it.  You go into paramedic mode.  This time, you didn't have time to prepare for anything.  Your brain is absorbing all that's going on around you."  Eddie paused to let Johnny understand what he planned to say next.  "Do you know why people burn?"

Johnny laughed at the comment. 

"Seriously, Johnny.  People burn because of the delay of the pain reaching the brain.  It takes seven tenths of a second for the pain to reach the brain from the area that's burned."

"Never knew that."  Johnny yawned.

Eddie didn't want to tax his patient.  "You tired John?  Should we continue this tomorrow?"

On the one hand, Johnny found Eddie intriguing.  However, he was tiring.  The fall from the chair, the scare of being alone and unable to tend to himself, depleted his energy.  Eddie motioned to Dixie to join them.

Johnny turned his head as he heard the footsteps approach.  "I'm sorry it took me so long Johnny.  You know what it's like to get a fresh cup of coffee here.  And then, as I was bringing it out to you, I got paged."

Johnny smiled a rare lopsided grin.  He knew that Dixie, and a few others arranged this little meeting.  As angry as he was for being duped, he couldn't be angry with her for why she did what she did.  "That's okay Dixie.  I understand."  Turning his head to where he thought Eddie was sitting, Johnny said, "Doc, yes, let's continue this tomorrow."

Dixie smiled then glanced over in Eddie's direction. He too was smiling. Both relieved over a very important first step Johnny made toward his recovery.

*&*&*&*&*


It was now the middle of Sunday afternoon.  Kip walked along a street in Carson, California, oblivious to the vehicles that whizzed past him on the busy thoroughfare.  He realized now that he expected to find a solution to his dilemma, or at least some guidance as to the right direction to take as he walked aimlessly yesterday and today.  But he hadn't.  He still felt the overwhelming guilt of what he did weighing on him like a...well, like a cinder block tied around his neck. 

He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours a night since this happened, and when he had slept, his rest was tormented by nightmares.  Nightmares about the tragedy itself, as well as simple dreams about day-to-day events that were now overcast with a dark tone that made them feel like nightmares.  The nights were the worst.  That was when he wished he had the courage to just kill himself.  But he didn't, and he knew it.  He was beginning to understand now that it would never end.  He would never be normal again.  His life would always be colored with this black cloud that was now surrounding him, just like Adam Pratt's wife was experiencing, only he deserved it and she didn't.

He was fatigued now, physically and emotionally.  He figured that would always be a part of his life now, too.  He was tired from not being able to sleep and from the thoughts and worries that were constantly going around and around in his brain, and he was absolutely exhausted from trying to pretend that everything was just fine. 

As confused as he had become, he still knew that it was important to act like nothing was bothering him.  He thought he'd fooled everyone except maybe his parents.  Well, okay...definitely not his parents, but maybe they didn't think it was anything as serious as it really was.  His mom sat him down Friday night to try to get some answers as to why he seemed so down.  He finally convinced her that some friends were having a party and he hadn't been invited.  He thought that would do it, but then she started offering suggestions and possible reasons why they hadn't invited him.  And this had made him feel guiltier about lying. 

His dad, who worked as manager of the auto parts department in a large discount store, brought home two fancy goldfish from the store's pet department the previous night, hoping to make him feel better.  Kip thanked him, and wished fervently that he still had the kind of problems that he had when he was half his age, the kind that could be solved by the gift, like a couple of goldfish.

Now Kip stopped as he noticed what was ahead of him on the street.  A fire station stood half a block away, with its big red rig outside in the driveway, glistening in the sunlight that had shone brightly on southern California. He began walking again, slowly, and approached the magnificent engine.  He could see now that part of what made it appear so bright was sunlight reflecting off of water on the driveway, and the truck's chrome and its glossy coat of red paint.  Sudsy water ran down the driveway and into the gutter where it was draining away, and there were sponges and cloths lying nearby, as well as a dishpan of soapy water.  Kip read the number "51" on the side of the engine and on the front wall of the station. 

The now-familiar ache clenched his midsection as he recognized the number of the squad involved in the incident.  Inside the bay Kip saw a squad, and he was startled that it had been repaired and returned to service so quickly, until he stepped closer and could see that this squad had no number on its side.  The guilt overwhelmed him again as it occurred to him that HE was the reason this unnumbered back-up squad stood here now.

Kip was sighing, as he had begun to do frequently to temporarily relieve the physical tension in his body when he heard a door open inside the building and footsteps approach.  A fireman strode out into the sunlight carrying some dry rags and a few small cans and spray bottles.  Kip hadn't intended to be caught there, and then realized that his fear of being identified was irrational. 

Even though one of the firemen had looked directly toward him that day on the overpass, he was too far away to discern any features.  This man now looked at him with no sign of recognition in his eyes.  He gave Kip a pleasant smile and said, "Hi."

"Hi," Kip returned bashfully.  He wanted to say something more, but couldn't think of anything immediately.  He finally came up with, "You gonna polish the engine?"

"Yeah," the man replied.  "They keep us working on something all the time, I guess."

"It doesn't look like it needs it."

"Well, there's always invisible dust settling on the paint, and if it's left too long, it starts making it dull."

"I see.  Well, it's a pretty engine."

"Thanks," the man replied, grinning now as though he'd designed and built it himself.

Kip walked around the engine slowly, admiring all the mysterious gauges and knobs.  As he approached the rear of the rig, he looked up, and noticed all the hose neatly stacked on the back. He then remembered the flag-covered casket that he saw lying in the same spot on another engine the day before.  He quickly moved on to the other side.  "What do all these do?" he asked, pointing to some dials.

"Oh, they tell me how much water's in the tank, and how much pressure it's under, among other things."

"You mean this truck carries water?"

"Well, actually this isn't a truck. It's an engine."

"An engine? What's the difference?"  Kip asked, truly curious.

"We have two different kinds of trucks. One is an aerial ladder truck and the other is a snorkel. The aerial ladder has an extendable ladder on top of the truck, which firemen can climb just like a regular ladder to reach people in trouble.  Or they can use a hose at the top to spray water if needed. The snorkel has a bucket on the end of its extendable ladder. The only difference is, with the snorkel, firemen have to get into the bucket and rise up into the air, unlike the regular ladder, which they climb. Both vehicles are capable of carrying a limited supply of water and can also be hooked up to a hydrant if the need arises," Mike said, smiling as he watched the kids face light up with interest. "Now, as for this fine lady," Mike said, placing his hand on the shiny metal, "she is an engine.  She has a water tank and she holds up to five hundred gallons of water. I can also hook her up to hydrant and draw water from there if needed."

"Wow," Kip replied, carefully placing his hand on the shiny paint.  "I didn't know that.  I thought you had to hook up to a fireplug each time you went out on a call."

"Well, some fires are in locations where there's no fireplug around."

"Oh...I see."

Kip was now near enough to the man that he could read the name "Stoker" on his uniform.  Stoker apparently saw him looking, as he held out his hand and said, "My name's Mike."

Kip reached out took the offered hand and shook it. "Hi.  My name's Kip...well...Kenneth, but everybody calls me Kip," he said.

"It's good to meet you, Kip.  Feel free to grab a rag and pitch in if you like, or you can just keep me company."

"I'll help.  What do I do?"  Kip was excited now.

"I'll spread wax on a small section.  You give it about a minute and a half to dry and turn a dull white, then take that rag and rub it off and polish it, so it leaves the paint shiny.  Okay?"

"Okay.  I can do that."

"Have you ever done this before?  Helped your dad or anybody polish a car?"

"No.  My dad usually takes care of his car on Mondays while I'm at school.  He works Saturdays, so he gets Mondays off.

"I see." 

Mike started near the back of the left side of the truck below the ladder, spreading wax from a small can with a damp sponge.  The clear wax Mike applied on the first area began to appear white and chalky after a couple of minutes, so Kip began rubbing it up and down with the rag.

"Here," Mike said.  "Let me show you..." He took another clean rag and began polishing in a circular motion, around and around.  "If you go around this way, see how that makes it pick up the light?"

Kip looked and saw that it did.  The freshly polished area reflected the sunlight more noticeably than the rest of the engine.  He began polishing with circular strokes, like Mike had shown him.

The two worked in silence for about twenty minutes, until the entire engine glistened.  The physical labor, as well as the fact that he was doing something useful made Kip feel like some of his burden was temporarily released.  He almost felt like he was comforting the big engine, like a terribly frightened animal, for the trauma it witnessed days earlier.

Mike watched this kid caress the engine gently, almost tenderly, then stand back and look with pride on the section he completed.  He smiled as he remembered the first time he'd gotten to polish fire equipment himself, and had considered it a privilege.  He was in elementary school on a Boy Scout visit to a local fire station.  He polished a brass hose nozzle very slowly and carefully, taking half an hour, because he was sure that everyone in town would see it and it had better be done right.  Now, it was hardly a privilege, and Mike couldn't begin to guess how many hundreds of times he polished the entire engine alone.

He also wondered if this boy Kip had been ill recently, or something.  He seemed to be moving normally and working energetically, but his face and general expression looked like something might be wrong.  His eyes, especially, looked red, and there were dark circles under them.  Maybe he just missed some sleep lately, but Mike knew that drug use was common among kids his age, too.  Well, whatever the problem was, he seemed like the kind who needed a friend for a while.  So Mike would be his friend, at least until the tones called the station out on a run again.

"Um...I heard about the wreck," Kip whispered, keeping his head turned away from his new friend.

Mike just looked up, surprised.

"Wasn't this engine there?" Kip added.

"Yeah.  And our squad, too."

Kip kept polishing the same spot he'd been on for the last minute.  "That must have been awful.  I don't think I could ever come back to work here after that."

"Well, they told all of us we could take time off if we needed to.  But none of us wanted to.  I know it would have been worse for me to just sit around at home with nothing to do."

Mike watched Kip rub the same patch of paint so intently.  He chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder.  "Hey, don't rub a hole in the paint!"

"Oh...sorry."  Kip jumped at Mike's touch.

Sensing the need for a change, Mike said, "Marco made lemonade at lunch, and I think we had some left.  You have time to come in?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  Thanks."

*&*&*&*&*


The next day, Dixie wheeled Johnny into Eddie's office.

"I'll be back later Johnny to pick you up."

"Thanks Dix."

"Miss McCall, that's not necessary.  I'll take Johnny back to his room."  Eddie said.

Dixie raised her eyebrow in puzzlement, but neither man could see her reaction.  "If that's what you want, Doctor.  See ya later Johnny."  She squeezed Johnny's shoulder before she left the room.

Johnny wheeled himself closer, but bumped into the desk.  Something fell off the top.  "Sorry."

"Happens all the time here."

Both men laughed.

"So Johnny, how was your night?"

"Day.  Night.  It's all the same for me."

"Ahh, self pity.  Not a good quality for a paramedic."

"Former paramedic."

"Are you a fortune teller?" 

"No.  Why?"

"I was just wondering when you developed the knack for telling the future.  Since you know you are a former paramedic, what else does your fortune-telling prowess tell you?  Do you know the lottery numbers?   I could really use that information so I can retire early.  Or can you predict the next earthquake?"  Johnny was shaking his head 'no' as Eddie rattled off these questions.

"Oh I have a good question, Johnny.  Do you know who Roy's next partner's going to be?  Will he be there for him when Roy is in trouble?"  Eddie paused, letting his words sink in.

"That's a low blow Doctor."

"Call me Eddie."

"That's a low blow Eddie.  How the hell do I know?"

"That's right Johnny.  You don't know that you will be a former paramedic.  All you know today is that this day, you are not a paramedic.  But you don't know what tomorrow will bring.  Is that fair enough?"

Johnny thought about what Eddie said before answering.  "I guess that's true."

"Okay, now that we are beyond you feeling sorry for yourself, let me ask you this.  Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry."

"Oh sure you are.  You're fucking pissed off because you can't see.  So why are you angry."

If either man had vision, they would see Johnny's face getting red in anger.  "I'm not angry."  Johnny said with gritted teeth.

"That is so not true.  Listen to yourself.  I AM NOT ANGRY.  Johnny, since I became blind I hear so much better.  I hear the rage in your voice.  If you could detach from yourself for a moment you would hear it too."

Wanting to change the subject Johnny said, "You said you would tell me how you became blinded."

"Yes, I said I would."  Eddie shifted in his chair.  "You mind if I smoke?"  Eddie didn't wait for Johnny's answer.  He reached into his drawer and took out a pack of cigarettes.  Next, he found his lighter.  Within seconds he lit his cigarette.  After a deep inhale, a smile came across Eddie's face.  "That's better."

"How did you, how did you light that?"

"The same way anyone else lights a cigarette.  It's finding the ashtray that's difficult.  I think that's what you knocked on the floor."  Johnny could hear Eddie's hands moving on the floor.  "Ah found it."  Eddie put his cigarette down.  "You want to know how I became blind.  I wasn't born blind.  Had great vision, actually.  I went to medical school and decided to serve my country.  In Vietnam I was assigned to a MASH as a surgical resident. Our unit was under heavy attack.  I don't remember much but was told that several explosions occurred nearby and I must have been close to one.  When I woke up, I couldn't see.  Eventually I was shipped home.  I had to decide what I was going to do with my life since the need for blind surgeons hasn't been realized.  I went back to school and got an additional degree in psychiatry and that's why I sit behind this desk and listen to people such as yourself.  So Johnny, why are you angry?"

"You are unmerciful, Eddie."  Johnny said through clenched teeth.

"Johnny, I believe in the quick cure concept.  I don't want to hear your life story and drone on for years, depleting the medical insurance.  I don't care if your mother dropped you or your brother picked on you.  That doesn't concern me.  What I want to do is get you back to functioning the way you were before."

Softly, Johnny said, "An' if I can't function the way I did before?"

"Then I hand you off to some other psycho babbler who you can whine to.  So, what's it gonna be. Are we gonna get down to business?" When Johnny failed to answer, Eddie added, "Okay then, enough of this bullcrap.  Why are you angry, Johnny?"

"I don't know!"

"Let me be the mind reader then.  You are pissed off because you should be dead, not Adam.  You should have been driving the squad, not Adam.  And Adam was going to be a father and his wife is now a widow.  Kinda of like Drew."

That was a slap that Johnny didn't expect.  "How do you know about Drew?"

"I may be blind Johnny, but I'm not dumb.  I do my research.  Remember, John, I get paid to cure you.  I'm kinda tired of eating cheese and shells.  I want to dine on some steak.  So when I heal you, I get paid and I can go to the best restaurant in this town for a classy dinner."  Eddie laughed at his own comment.  "Although you weren't in the room when Drew died, you were there and you had to tell Pam.  You didn't like that.  Who would?  But those memories stay, Johnny my boy.  Tell me what you remember about the accident."

"I don't."

"Johnny, the nurse says you've been having nightmares.  They hear what you say.  And I've bribed enough of them to know what you've been saying in your sleep.  Something like, 'no Adam, no.' Now please tell me, why are you saying that.  Did you see Adam die?"

Johnny gripped the armrests of his wheelchair.  He was so helpless without his vision.  He didn't want to be in Eddie's office any longer.  He wanted to go back to his room and not have to think.

"Come on John, answer me.  What are you afraid to discover?  The dead can't hurt you, only the living can."

"I AM NOT AFRAID."

"Okay, I'll give you that.  You are not afraid.  What's causing your anxiety?  Johnny, realize this."  Eddie moved closer to Johnny.  "I will keep asking you the same questions.  You may not answer it today or tomorrow.  You may never even tell me.  But at some point, I hope, you are going to want to live again and will have to answer these and other questions.  Do you want so much time to go by?  Do you want to alienate your friends because you refuse to see them?  Is that how you are going to punish yourself because you couldn't help your friend who died inches away from you?"

Eddie sat back to allow Johnny to understand what he was told.  He picked up the phone and dialed an extension.  "Hi Miss McCall.  This is Eddie McNeill.  I decided to take you up on your offer to escort Johnny back to his room.  We're ready now."  He hung the phone back up.  "Dixie will take you back to your room.  It's up to you now Johnny.  I'm leaving this time slot open tomorrow.  Come back and we'll talk more."  His hand went into the drawer and pulled out another cigarette.  After lighting it, he took a deep breath, savoring his smoke.

*&*&*&*&*


It was later in the afternoon and Johnny was resting, going over what transpired.

'Why won't he believe me, that I can't remember?'  Johnny punched his bed.  There was a knock on his door.  'I don't need visitors now.'

"Go away."  Johnny shouted.

The door opened and the visitor was not perturbed by Johnny's greeting and entered the room.

From the sound of the footsteps he knew it was Roy.

"Roy, get the hell out of here!"  Johnny shouted.

"Daddy?  Why is Uncle Johnny saying those bad words to you?"

Roy hugged his daughter, who he was holding in his arms.

"Shit!" Johnny whispered.  "Jenny, Roy, I'm so sorry," he added running a nervous hand through his unkempt hair.

Roy walked further into the room and pulled a chair over to sit next to Johnny.  He put Jennifer on his lap.

"I thought you needed some extra company today.  Jenny and I were in the neighborhood and decided to visit."  Roy let Johnny's brief outburst go unanswered.

"How are your eyes, Uncle Johnny?"

The sweetness and innocence in Jenny's voice allowed a grin to appear on Johnny's face.

"My eyes are still the same, sweetheart."

"Well you got to get better soon!"

"Why is that?"

"I'm gonna have a pool party and Daddy doesn't want to watch all those damm children by himself!"

"JENNIFER!" Roy shouted.

Johnny tried hard to suppress his giggle.

"Well Uncle Johnny said hell."

"JENNIFER LEAH DESOTO we do not use bad language.  Do I make myself clear?"

Jennifer looked into her daddy's blue eyes and smiled.  "Yes daddy."

"Do you see what kind of influence you have on my family?"  Roy said with mock sarcasm.

"I'm sorry Roy."  Johnny reached his right hand to touch Jennifer.  She saw his motion, jumped off Roy's lap and stood next to the bed and snatched Johnny's hand.  "Roy, lower the bedrail on this side, please."

Roy stood up and did as asked.

Patting the bed, Johnny motioned for Jennifer to sit next to him.  She didn't have to be asked twice to sit next to her favorite uncle.

"Johnny, I'm going to get a cup of coffee since you two look comfortable.   I'll be back in ten minutes." 

Johnny shook his head.  Roy left the room, but glanced over his shoulder as Jennifer proceeded to talk to Johnny.  He thought his daughter's comfort would be the best medicine Johnny could have

"I brought a book to read to you, Uncle Johnny. 

"You don't have to do that."

"You can't see the TV."

"No I can't, but I can hear it."

"Oh.  I thought you'd like it if I read to you.  I know I like it when you read to me."

How simple life was in Jennifer's world, Johnny thought.  He shrugged his shoulders.  Sure, he could listen to Jenny read to him.

"Sure, sweetheart, read your story to me."

Jenny jumped off the bed and took a book out of the bag.  Not liking what she picked up, she returned it and took another book out.  She jumped back into the bed and settled back against the pillow.  Johnny put his arm around her as she began to read.  Since reading was new to Jennifer, she used her finger as she spoke each word.  She stumbled over some of the bigger words and had to spell them out so Johnny could translate them for her.

As Jennifer read, Johnny started to think that Adam's child would never experience this moment with his/her father.  So many things baby Pratt would miss and it was all his fault.  Johnny tried to concentrate on what Jennifer was reading, but his guilt, his anger interfered.  Reaching out with his hand, he closed the book.

"That's enough for now, Jenny.  Uncle Johnny is getting tired."

"But, I didn't finish the story.  You've got to let me finish the story!"  Jenny whined.

At that moment Roy walked back into the room.

Trying to control his growing rage, Johnny raised his voice.  "Jenny, please.  I can't listen anymore!"

"But…."

"Jenny, come here now.  You heard Uncle Johnny."  Jenny heeded her father's wishes and jumped off the bed.  She put the book back in the bag and sat down on the chair and pouted.

Roy walked over and put a cup of coffee on the tray that went across Johnny's bed.  "The coffee is at two o'clock, Junior."

Swallowing his misery, Johnny said, "Thanks."

Roy walked over to talk to Johnny so Jenny wouldn't hear him.

"I'm sorry if bringing her here was a bad thing.  I thought she would cheer you up."  He whispered

"I know, Roy.  Thanks.  It's just, it's just…" Johnny threw his hand up in the air.

"Johnny…."

"Don't say it Roy.  Don't you put me through the wringer too."

"I don't have to Junior.  You're doing that number on yourself.  I'm on tomorrow, but I'll stop in when I can."  Roy turned around and moved to his daughter who was oblivious to the growing hostility in the room.  "Take my hand Jenny and say good bye to Uncle Johnny."

"Bye Uncle Johnny.  I hope your eyes get better soon!"

Johnny weakly waved good-bye but couldn't get the words out. 

Silently, Roy and Jenny walked hand in hand toward the elevator. As they stood waiting for the lift to arrive to Johnny's floor, Roy allowed his mind to drift back to scene in Johnny's room only moments before. 'What's it gonna take to get you to come back to us Junior? I thought for sure having Jenny come visit would be good medicine for you. I guess I was wrong. I really wish you would open up and tell me, tell someone, what is on your mind. I know I can't even begin to understand what you're feeling. After all I wasn't there and Adam wasn't a friend.  But Adam was still a fellow firefighter; he was still family. I know you're hurting Junior. I remember how you hurt after Drew… All the end results we receive because of our job, things many people will never experience, and it seems like you, Junior, are the one on the receiving end, more often than not'

"Daddy," came Jenny's hushed voice as she pulled on her father's hand.

Giving his head a little shake, Roy glanced down at his daughter. "Yes Jenny."

"The elevator is here, Daddy."

Roy glanced up at the open door to the lift. He noticed a young nurse he didn't recognize holding the door, keeping it from closing. She smiled," Are you coming, sir?"

"Yeah, we are." Roy replied, before guiding his daughter into the elevator.

*&*&*&*&*


Kip found over the last few days that nighttime was the only time he felt safe anymore.  It was true that nighttime was when his mind seemed the most active and panicked, but the velvety blackness around him at least made him feel physically hidden and invulnerable.  Now he lay face up in his bed, gazing in the direction of the ceiling. 

The shade and curtains were drawn over the window, keeping out streetlights, neighbors' porch lights and passing headlights.  The only light in the room was the dim light out in the hall, creating a pencil-thin glow showing faintly through the crack at the bottom of his bedroom door.  He liked the soft nighttime sounds that he could hear, too. 

Through the walls and closed doors, he could faintly hear his father's snoring.  The comforting sound came from his parents' bedroom across the hall, as it had every night for Kip's twelve years.  Occasionally, there was a tiny, soft splash as one of his two new goldfish, which he named Rosencrantz and Guildenstern after two humorous characters in Hamlet, came to the surface of their water for oxygen.  Other than these sounds, there was nothing.

Kip wondered how Kevin's weekend was.  He hadn't seen him since Friday afternoon.  Kevin didn't seem eager then to speak of the incident.  He would respond if Kip asked about it, but otherwise Kevin acted as though it happened years ago and been forgotten.  But Kip thought he began to notice a certain 'wildness' in Kevin's eyes, like frequent, sudden changes of emotion and a furtive sidelong glance occasionally.  Kevin didn't seem to have been nearly as traumatized by all of this as Kip was feeling himself.  Kip envied Kevin his ability to just take all this in stride.  He figured Kevin was able to put it entirely out of his mind over the weekend, and do whatever he routinely did.

But Kip hoped he never again had to endure anything like these last days had been.  He wondered what he would be doing this time next weekend.  He assumed that he would be in jail, if they would only hurry up and catch him, and Kevin, too.  But Kevin didn't seem worried.  Maybe he was.  He probably was, but just didn't show it.  He certainly should be.  Maybe Kevin thought that if he showed his own nervousness, it would draw the investigators to him.  Kip wished a miracle would occur and the police would just give up the investigation.  But they wouldn't.  Oh, why didn't they hurry up and catch him?  Kip imagined an infinite number of times the horror of the scene when his parents and little sister found out.  Found out how he picked up that concrete block that would be hurled from the overpass to kill that fireman.

Kip flopped over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.  He felt the tears starting once again as he thought about Adam Pratt's widow and friends.  He had met and spent time with some of his friends just this afternoon.  Mike Stoker, who let him help polish "Big Red," as they called the engine.  Marco Lopez, who was so kind, and had told him how to make real lemonade from fresh lemons and even wrote down the recipe when Kip seemed genuinely interested. And he even liked Chet Kelly, who introduced him to the station's basset hound, Henry. 

To Kip, Chet appeared to be very fond of Henry, but afraid to show it.  But he thought that Chet would be more upset than he wanted people to believe if anything ever happened to their sad-eyed mascot.  Marco told him about Chet's attempts once to persuade Henry to use a doghouse instead of the dayroom couch, and it apparently was a pretty funny scene.

What would these guys think of him, if they knew? He wondered.  They made him feel so at home.  He really liked and respected these men, and wanted so much for them to like him.  Kip let a small sob escape into the pillow.  Since he left the station this afternoon, he even had the fleeting thought that he like to be a fireman himself someday.  That is, if he wasn't in prison.  Maybe they'd still let him be one when he got out of prison.  Right now, though, he wanted the nice guys of Station 51's A-shift just to like him, or at least not hate him.  They would hate him, when they found out what he did.  So, to make them hate him less...well, Kip knew that the answer was something he avoided thinking about...but it was time to think about it.

Kip turned onto his back once again, dry-eyed now.  A lot of his agony recently was a result of his guilt, true, but a lot of it was anticipation, 'waiting for the axe to fall,' as they say.  The only way to relieve this unceasing torment, and to maybe make the guys at the station not hate him quite so much, since there was no way to undo what had happened, was simply to confess.  Confess.  Two little syllables that sounded so minor, so insignificant.  But when it was done, his life, his parents' lives, everything was going to be so changed.  But where do you go to confess something like this?  To the police station?  To a counselor at school?  Suddenly, Kip knew.  To his new friends at Station 51.  He learned while there today that they would be on duty until eight the next morning.  If he got there around seven-thirty, they'd still be there.  They'd listen to him, and they'd know who to call.  And maybe he'd also get a chance to tell them how very sorry he was.

Kip turned onto his side and, for the first time in nearly a week, drifted off to sleep peacefully.