ROUND TWO by Nexxie Johnny squinted at the ceiling in confusion trying to figure out why he was awake at 5:30 on his day off.  Rustling and movement from J.R.'s room down the hall gave him a partial explanation.  J.R. arose early today, getting ready for an overtime shift. Since his son was finally getting serious about trying to earn some money for a vehicle of his own, the boy had put in quite a few extra days...maybe too many for his own good. Gage could remember when he used to stumble into the ranch house and fall into an exhausted sleep after five consecutive shifts. If Roy hadn't stepped in and advised Cap to stop him, there might have been serious consequences. The thirty-seven-year-old captain smirked. Those were the days when he was dirt poor, hard-headed and stupid. Well, Johnny admitted, at least now I'm not that stupid---even if I am still dirt-poor and hard-headed. I was determined, though, to get this place in shape and buy stock, and that required money. Johnny slowly sat up, reluctant to leave the warmth of the covers. It was getting cooler at night, calling for jeans instead of cut-offs. When his feet hit the cold floor Gage shivered, but only partly with cold; something nagged at him. Pulling on a T-shirt and his boots he headed down to the kitchen, uneasy for some reason about J.R. Night sounds gave way to the chirps and cries of the early morning birds as dawn began to bathe the eastern sky with a wash of pink and orange. The horses stamped and snorted in the barn, anxious for their breakfast and the freedom of the corral. We have a good life here, Johnny reflected. He wondered how long he would have J.R. with him and what he would do when the ranch house ceased to echo with his son's voice. It was a topic the elder Gage preferred not to think about; that time would come soon enough. Right now there were morning chores to do. Johnny could at least cut J.R. some slack with regard to the ranch on days that he pulled overtime. His son did all of the work, he recalled, when Johnny had injured his wrist. ~*~*~*~*~ J.R. hustled downstairs and headed for the back door, pulling up short at the sight of his father returning from the barn and the horses already in the corral. What is he doing up already? J.R. wondered uneasily. Jen should be calling any minute now. If he finds out... As if prompted by his thoughts, the telephone shattered the peace of the early morning with it's strident ring. Jen was right on time...exactly six a.m. "Mornin' Sunshine," J.R. gave his customary greeting to the girl of his heart, albeit in a voice more subdued than normal. Besides being wary of Johnny's curiosity, he was tired already from working a partial shift until midnight at 45's before going in this morning for more overtime. The younger Gage knew he was driving himself too hard, but there were a couple of big purchases he was anxious to make, one of them being a Harley. "Hi, Sweetheart," Jennifer responded, her voice husky from just waking up and still a little slurred with sleep. J.R. felt a jolt of desire at its sound, imagining her golden hair tousled and mussed, those violet eyes only partly open. He mentally shook himself; that was definitely dangerous territory. "Honey, Dad's up already and I've got to get to work. 127's is further away than 15's and it's gonna take a little longer." "J.R. it's Saturday!" The plaintive note in her voice rubbed a raw spot on his conscience. Weekends were the only time they could spend whole days together and he would be working his normal shift at 15's on Sunday. But last week he'd spotted a beautiful ring in the window of a jewelry store while running errands. An inquiry into the price resulted in a whistle and a frown. That ring wasn't in the budget for a normal fireman's pay. That ring would require overtime. That ring was the one he wanted to give Jennifer. "I gotta go, Jen," J.R. whispered as he heard Johnny open the screen door. Lucky for him his dad never got around to oiling the hinges. "I love you! Bye." The young fireman barely had time to hang up the phone and bury his head in the refrigerator before Johnny entered the kitchen. The sight of the open refrigerator triggered a rumble in Johnny's stomach. "Breakfast!" CLUNK! J.R.'s head smacked against the top rack of the refrigerator making him see stars. "Geez, Dad, do ya have to sneak up on a guy?" He hadn't realized his father was so close. "Sorry about that. You gonna have time for breakfast?" "I think I'll just have a glass of juice and a slice of toast, I'm not really hungry," J.R. fibbed. He was running late and didn't have time for a father-son chat at the moment. The normal drive to work took about forty-five minutes in traffic. Although it was Saturday and traffic would be light at this hour, it would take an extra ten minutes to get to 127's. In addition to that, J.R. only had directions to Station 127---he'd never actually been there. He didn't know that part of L.A. County real well and there was a distinct possibility of getting lost. "You know, you need to watch working too many shifts in a row. It'll wear ya out quick...voice of experience speaking." Johnny tried to keep the worry out of his voice. His son wasn't much better at taking advice than he had been at that age. "Yeah, so I've heard. Look, Dad, I'll talk to ya Monday morning. You do have a ride in with Marco, right?" J.R. took a bite out of his toast and set the remains on the counter while he chugged a glass of orange juice. "Yep, Lopez promised to pick me up tomorrow at 7:00," Johnny replied, at the same time shaking his head in resignation. Not waiting to hear his father's response and abandoning the remainder of his breakfast, J.R. breezed out the door, letting it fly shut with a resounding SMACK. Johnny hurried to the porch. "Hey, where are you working this shift?" he yelled after the young man who had just reached the Rover. After settling into the driver's seat, J.R. stuck his head out the window and yelled, "127's" before starting the vehicle and shooting off down the long driveway. His father's hand halted in mid wave and his mouth fell open. 127's...on B-Shift. "Oh no! J.R.'s gonna be spending 24 hours with The Phantom!" He didn't realize he's spoken aloud until the sound of his voice startled a couple of Steller's Jays from their spot near the porch. Their noisy flapping and squawking echoed his own confusion. Would Chet refrain from harrassing J.R., or would his son become 'Pigeon for a Day'? ~*~*~*~*~ Roy DeSoto had just touched his lips to the edge of his coffee cup when the resident blonde whirlwind swept out onto the DeSoto's deck, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind her. "Oooooh, sometimes he makes me so mad!" Jennifer began without preamble, plopping down on Joanne's lounge chair which squeaked in protest at the rough treatment. "Hey, take it easy," Roy admonished. "Your mom won't be too happy if you break her chair." Roy was very surprised to see Jennifer up and about so early on a Saturday. "Who makes you mad?" "J.R." she said, not elaborating further. Jen just realized that if she said any more her parent could find out about her morning phone calls to her boyfriend. Granted they were allowed to spend more time together now, even unchaperoned on occasion, but their morning phone calls were very personal and filled with endearments. She wouldn't give them up for anything. Roy was expecting to hear Chris' name as the target of his daughter's anger. It was a surprise to find J.R. on the wrong side of her temper. In fact, it was downright shocking. Jen spent so much energy extolling the virtues of her boyfriend that Joanne had half-jokingly began to refer to him as Mr. Perfect---only to her husband. Heaven forbid she should appear to slight the 'wonderful' J.R. Gage in front of her daughter. Joanne would be floored by this new development, he was sure. "Why are you mad at Mr. Per... er J.R.?" Roy hoped Jen was too preoccupied to notice the slip he'd nearly made. "He's working today." "And that's bad?" "Daddy, it's Saturday. He works at 15's tomorrow, so now we'll have to wait until next Sunday to have a date." The tone of Jen's voice indicated this to be a capitol offense. "Jen, he's a fireman. Firemen work on weekends too. Johnny said he's trying to save up to buy a car." "But Daaaddy, weekends are my days with him. I thought I came first." Roy watched his daughter work herself into a real pout. He wondered how often J.R. saw this side of his Little Girl, or if he ever did. Jen could be a real handful when she didn't get her own way. He grinned. Someday that would be J.R.'s problem...but not yet. "What if you want to go somewhere and Johnny needs his Rover that day?" Roy inquired, hoping to make her see reason. "We'll borrow Mom's car," Jennifer said, unwilling to concede the point. "Besides, he can work all the overtime he wants on weekdays." "That's real generous, honey," Roy commented, a tinge of irony in his voice. "By the way, where is he working today?" "I think he said 127's." Receiving no sympathy from her parent, Jennifer rose to return to the house. Roy leaned back in his brightly colored lawn chair and reached for his morning paper. As he scanned the local news section, Jennifer's parting words sunk in --- 127's on B-Shift. J.R. would be at the mercy of Chet Kelly. Thrusting the paper aside, Roy nearly ran into the house and shut himself in the office, quickly reaching for the phone. ~*~*~*~*~ Chet was running late that morning and he knew he would be in for it if he screwed up again. The old Valiant was eating him alive in repairs, but it was a classic. He frowned, Johnny had called it a classic piece of junk when he drove out to the ranch to show off his latest 'new' old car. He would repay Gage for that comment. Meanwhile, after a jumpstart from a kind neighbor, he'd managed to leave for work fifteen minutes late this morning and nearly received a speeding ticket while trying to make up time...thus making him even later. Kelly frowned. The deputy sheriff took a good look at the car and shook his head, deciding to only give him a warning. "Looking at that car," the man said, "nobody would believe me in court if I said it was speeding." Well, Laughing Boy may have made him late, but at least he didn't have to pay a fine. The lot was full of cars as Kelly pulled into Station 127. His traditional space was already taken...by Gage's Land Rover! That's two I owe Captain Pigeon, he thought, resentment kicking in his desire for revenge. But not here, not while he might be in charge. I wonder what happened to Captain Vaughn? Well, at least Johnny won't know that this is my third time in a row being late. "This makes three times in a row, Kelly." Captain Vaughn stood just outside the door to his office, his arms folded across his chest. "Cap! I thought... Where's Captain Gage?" "Probably at home," Vaughn replied. "Doesn't he work C-Shift?" "Er, yeah, but his car is here. Did it break down in the parking lot or something?" Kelly's eyes sparkled briefly, that would be good Phantom-fodder. "No, I imagine Gage drove it in this morning. He's here to replace Fontaine---they had their baby yesterday. By the way, Kelly, you owe the baby pool ten bucks." Cap Vaughn agreed to a baby pool only if seventy-five percent of the proceeds went toward a baby gift. After the debacle involving Gage and the captain's exam, the Department really cracked down on gambling within and between stations. Chet mentally reviewed his wallet. "Er...Cap, you're gonna have to catch me next shift. I'm a little short today." "Story of your life, Kelly," Mickey Reynolds quipped, patting Kelly on the top of his head as he walked by. Mickey, at six-feet-five, towered over the engineer and never failed to make 'short' jokes at his expense. "Oh ha ha," Kelly responded lamely. "Stow it, Reynolds," Cap Vaughn snapped. Those two were always going at it, but they were good friends. The rest of B-Shift referred to them as 'Mutt & Jeff' behind their backs. "Kelly, you've run fresh out of warnings. One more time being late and you're suspended for two shifts, got that?" "Yes sir," Kelly replied, glad to be getting away with only a warning. He started to walk away, then pivoted and questioned, "Cap, why would a captain be subbing for Fontaine?" "Not John Gage, Kelly, J.R. Gage...his son." "Oh, right, Cap, that explains it then." The twinkle was back in Kelly's eyes. Captain Pigeon's squab is here for a whole shift...and he's all mine! "Oh, Kelly..." "Yeah, Cap?" Kelly tugged at his mustache, lost in thought, as he absently replied to his captain. "You missed roll call, so we saved the latrine for you." "That's great, Cap. Um...I mean, okay, Cap, I'll get right on it." Puzzled by Kelly's uncharacteristic response, Vaughn shrugged and returned to his office to answer the phone, which had just begun to ring. ~*~*~*~*~ "Gage home, John speaking." "You're up early, Junior," Roy commented, "or did I wake you up?" "Naw, I had to get up to answer the phone anyway," Johnny teased. "Well, then I won't worry about it," Roy shot back. Johnny was listening with only half his brain, the rest of his thoughts preoccupied by what might be happening to his son. "Johnny, did you know J.R. is subbing at 127's today...B-Shift?" "I just found out a few minutes ago," Johnny admitted. "How did you hear about it?" "Jen told me." "Oh." Johnny wondered how Jennifer knew, but refrained from asking. "Are you gonna call Vaughn?" "And tell him what...that I'm worried about my little boy?" Johnny shook his head. He couldn't run interference for J.R. His son would resent it and lose face among his fellow firefighters. Captain Gage had resisted, pretty much, calling Gene Riley all these months, but hung on the man's every word when 15's captain chose to describe his son's work in glowing terms. "No, I guess you can't do that," Roy admitted, "but you might give him a head's-up about Kelly's pranks, alert him to the possibility." "That would amount to the same thing, Roy. I've got to let J.R. fight his own battles. I just hope he remembers the stories he's heard about The Phantom and understands that, being my son, he's a likely target." DeSoto realized that Johnny was right; calling Station 127 would make him look like a mother hen protecting her chick---and embarrass J.R. But nothing precluded Roy from calling. Now that he looked on J.R. as a probable future son-in-law, Roy was beginning to consider the young firefighter as much a member of his family as Johnny, and therefore worthy of his protection. After a few more minutes of conversation with John Gage, Roy said goodbye and immediately upon hanging up dialed Station 127. ~*~*~*~*~ J.R. wielded a polishing rag energetically, trying to ignore the nagging headache that set in early. He'd obtained two aspirin from one of the other firemen, but they hadn't kicked in yet. Thus far he'd seen no sign of Firefighter/Specialist Chet Kelly. The stories he'd heard about the prank war between his father and the engineer weren't far from his mind, but the only prank Kelly had ever pulled on J.R. was the baby shower, and that hadn't been the least unpleasant. Maybe the stories were exaggerated, and anyway, the war was between Chet and Johnny---nothing to do with J.R. Besides, that was at Station 51, and in the past. Surely, now that he was an engineer and at a different station, The Phantom had gone into retirement. "STATION 51...STATION 127...STATION 99...STATION 45...BATTALION 10...TRUCK 62...EXPLOSION AND FIRE...4500 MCKENSIE...4-5-0-0 MCKENSIE...CROSS STREET LIGHTHOUSE WAY...BE ADVISED THIS IS A MULTISTORY STRUCTURE...TIME OUT 09:15" Sam Lanier's calm voice followed a stream of tones that seemed to go on forever. "Get the lead out, Gage," Mickey Reynolds called as he ran by. J.R. was jolted into action. Not hearing the familiar tones for Station 15, he didn't react immediately. Now he had to hurry to catch up. Captain Vaughn early on pointed out the place on Engine 127 that Fontaine usually occupied and handed J.R. a helmet, so he had only to toss aside the polishing rag. Nonetheless, he was still shrugging into his turnouts, helmet strap slung over one arm, when the engine left the station. The fire was a nightmare in progress. Two ten-story buildings nestled side-by-side on a city block already fenced off and crowded with construction equipment. Generators and pallets of building materials suspended from cranes to prevent theft hampered mobility for the ladder trucks. Stacks of I-beams and cinder blocks in a makeshift maze made accessing the hydrants difficult and consumed precious time. Getting close enough to fight the fire was challenge enough, but stacked barrels of solvents and paint inside the finished buildings presented additional perils for the firefighters. Luckily the newly-finished office buildings were still unoccupied, and therefore civilian victims were not a concern. That was about the only good news. Two security guards, the sole occupants of the construction site, were in the trailer that housed the mobile site office when the first explosion occurred. Neither had been injured and both were at a loss to account for the fire. Frustrated with the inaccessibility of the blaze and the hazards to the firefighters under his command, Chief Whitley, for once, was sorely tempted to just let it burn. Shaking his head in anger, he gave instructions to the arriving stations and went to the site trailer. The security guards informed him that the construction site manager and the architect would be there in a matter of minutes...the first good news Whitley had received. They could move some of the equipment out of the way. J.R. hurried to back up Reynolds on an inch-and-a-half, helping to lug the heavy hose into position. Reynolds seemed amused for some reason; J.R. shrugged and did his job throwing his wiry muscles into the task. He didn't see Chet Kelly grinning even as he adjusted the dials on the the pumper. "Hey, Baby, can you give me a hand?" A fireman from 99's that J.R. didn't recognize tapped him on the shoulder and indicated a some bundles of hose. J.R. nodded and told Reynolds he would be back. After receiving a confirming nod, J.R. Gage shouldered one of the bundles and followed the man from 99's. Baby? The guy must still be living in the 60's. J.R. just chuckled and shook his head. After helping couple the hoses, J.R. headed back to Reynolds. He'd been there only a few minutes when 99's Captain ran up. "Hey, Baby, the Chief wants another inch-and-a-half on that flare-up." He pointed in the direction of flames shooting from a broken window on the ground floor of one of the buildings. Hesitating only briefly, J.R. hastened to pull another line and run toward the new outbreak. He frowned that a second person called him 'Baby'. What was with these guys from 99's? He would have to ask Mr. D. Captain Vaughn watched as J.R. hesitated before following the instructions from 99's captain. He hoped there wasn't a problem. When Gage took off with a hose, though, he decided it probably was a misunderstanding. His attention was brought back to the young firefighter immediately when an explosion split the morning air and J.R. Gage flew fifteen feet, hose and all, to land against a stack of cinder blocks. Vaughn and two paramedics from 45's ran up to check on the young man. "Are you okay, Baby?" one of the medics asked. Still trying to catch his breath, J.R. winced as he moved his left shoulder, sure there would be a bruise. Other than having the wind knocked out of him he was okay and nodded to the paramedic who helped him to his feet. Gage picked up the hose and went back toward the fire, this time backed up by one of the firemen from 45's. Four long hours of hot backbreaking work passed before the fire was out. J.R. wearily helped replace the hoses on the engine, anxious to get back to the station. A larger station than 15's, with an engine, ladder truck and deluge, Station 127 also had larger living quarters and, more importantly, four shower stalls. "Hey, Baby, nice workin' with ya. Man, Baby, this was a bad one." J.R. turned and recognized the fireman from 45's who backed him up earlier. Something was up with this 'Baby' thing, he knew, but for the life of him couldn't figure it out. The guy from 45's was all right though, and J.R. held out his hand. "You too, Batsios. See ya at the next one." Batsios shook J.R.'s hand and gave a mock salute before returning to his engine. J.R. knew something was going on, but too weary to care, he just climbed into his assigned seat on Engine 127. Now that the adrenaline rush from the fire was over, his headache returned full force. Back at the station J.R. shucked his turnout and headed for the showers. He noted in the mirror a large purplish bruise forming on his left shoulder as expected. Well, it wasn't the first. "Baby, that looks like it hurts." J.R. tried to remember the name of the man standing beside him, wrapped only in a towel. Self-consciously J.R. nodded and, tightening the towel around his waist, hurried to the locker where he'd stowed his gear that morning. This 'baby' crap has got to stop, he thought. Apparently somebody started a rumor or a joke or something. I just wish I knew where it came from. Oh well, he shrugged and immediately winced, regretting the action, I've been called worse...much worse. Clean and feeling more alive, J.R. took another couple of aspirin and returned to the apparatus bay. The polishing done earlier was all for naught. Bit's of tar from one of the barrels caught in an explosion had given a spatter coat of black speckles to the engine and combined with a layer of greasy soot from the smoke, made for a big clean-up job. One of the men that rode the engine, his nametag said Larken, clapped J.R. on the shoulder and said, "Let's get to work, Baby." Gage cried out and pulled away, rubbing at the bruised area in agony and trying to blink back the tears that filled his eyes. "Baby, are you okay?" The fireman backed off from J.R. wondering what he'd done. "CAP!" he called, summoning Terry Vaughn from his office. "No, it's okay, I'm all right," J.R. managed to get out between clenched teeth. "I'm just bruised. I'll be fine." "You don't look fine," Vaughn said doubtfully, remembering the explosion that sent J.R. crashing into the pallet of cinder blocks. "Maybe we better send you to Rampart to get checked out." "No, Cap, I'm fine, really. The shoulder moves okay, nothing broken. I hauled hose with it after and there doesn't seem to be anything more than a bruise. I'll be okay, as long as people don't get too enthusiastic in patting me on the back." J.R. gave Larken a crooked grin and held out his hand. Larken smiled back and held out his own hand. "Sorry, Baby, I didn't know you got hurt back there. You gonna be okay to work on the engine?" J.R. started to nod, then stopped and exclaimed, "What's with calling me 'Baby'? It's getting pretty old." Larken looked confused. "Isn't that your name? It's on your turnout." "What?!!" J.R. ran to the other side of the engine and picked up his coat. There on the back above his surname, someone had neatly stenciled "Baby". They even re-stenciled his last name so that the whole name, "Baby" Gage stood out in stark black letters against the khaki-colored fabric. "I don't believe...who did this?!!" Memories of his 'baby shower' came rushing in. "Kelly!! I'm gonna kill him!" Captain Terry Vaughn put a hand to his forhead and drew it slowly down his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before moving lower to cover the wide grin that he failed to suppress. As pranks go it was relatively harmless. He could see why the young man would be angry. As a new firefighter he would be sensitive about his age and lack of experience, not to mention the fairly large shadow his dad cast as a paramedic and now a captain. But he didn't see any need to step in...yet. The phone call he'd received this morning was timely...and accurate. "Captain Vaughn, this is Roy DeSoto from 99's. How's it going today?" Terry met Roy DeSoto on a few occasions over the years. The man had developed a reputation quickly as a likeable and competant captain. "Can't complain, Captain DeSoto. What can I do for you?" DeSoto hesitated, unsure exactly how to proceed. "You've got a replacement firefighter working there today, J.R. Gage, right?" Vaughn's brows went up, immediately concerned. Was Gage some kind of a problem child? He knew John Gage's reputation; everybody did. Maybe the kid had something to prove. He sure hoped not. "That's right," Vaughn answered cautiously, "is there some kind of problem with that?" "There could be," Roy admitted. "You know about the pranks Chet Kelly used to pull on John Gage, right?" Roy didn't really need an answer, it was common knowledge in the department. "Ye...esss," Vaughn answered cautiously, waiting for Roy to continue. "Well, this is the first time J.R. has ever worked with Kelly. He's not his father, but I doubt Kelly will take that into consideration." "Captain DeSoto, I'm not real sure where this conversation is going. What do you want from me?" Vaughn wondered idly why the caller was Roy DeSoto instead of John Gage. Roy sighed. This was harder than he thought it would be. "Look, most of the time Kelly's jokes are just harmless pranks, causing more irritation than actual damage. But sometimes he gets carried away, doesn't know when to quit. Johnny was always his favorite target and Chet can be pretty relentless. Sometimes Johnny got even, but usually he just put up with it. J.R. has no real clue what it's like to be The Phantom's target. He may not take things in the same spirit that Johnny did." "I guess what I'm asking," Roy continued, "is that you just keep your eyes open and be aware of the situation. Maybe this is all for nothing. Maybe Chet will leave J.R. alone. Just...don't let J.R. get hurt too bad, okay?" "Do you want me to step in and talk to Kelly?" "Not unless it becomes an unhealthy situation. Look, Johnny doesn't know I'm calling; he wasn't going to interfere. He feels J.R. should fight his own battles. But I...I just thought you should be prepared, that's all." Vaughn relaxed. "By the way, DeSoto, why are you calling, if Gage didn't think it necessary?" "Well...besides being my best friend's son, I kind of have the feeling that J.R. is going to be my son-in-law in a couple of years, and I think my daughter would prefer to have him all in one piece." 127's captain could hear the amusement in DeSoto's voice and chuckled in agreement. "I'll keep my eyes open," he promised before hanging up. Now it seemed like Roy's call was prescient. Chet Kelly had apparently resumed his prank war with John Gage by proxy through Gage's son. This opening volley, however, was harmless enough. Maybe it would end here. ~*~*~*~*~ Jennifer is moping. There is no other word for it, Joanne reflected. After toying with a glass of orange juice and a bagel, Jen left both virtually untouched and wandered into the living room. "Morning, Mom," Chris breezed into the kitchen. Pouncing on the bagel abandoned earlier by his sister, he stuffed nearly half of it into his mouth and washed it down with a big gulp of juice. "Chris, you're getting as bad as your Uncle Johnny," Joanne admonished, shaking her head at his lack of table manners. "Thanks, Mom." Chris grinned then kissed Joanne on the cheek and quickly finished off the bagel. Walking into the living room he plopped down on the couch beside his sister who was listlessly watching a rerun of "Scooby-Doo". "Mornin' Sunshine," Chris teased, swatting at one of Jennifer's pigtails while mimicking her boyfriend's usual greeting. Still in a grouchy mood, Jennifer shrugged away from him in irritation and punched his shoulder. "What are you doing home, Chris-ty?" she asked. "Did you get fired?" "Shhh, this is the good part!" Chris knew how Jen hated to be "shushed" and took great pleasure in the irritation he caused. Once Jennifer's words sunk in, her brother indignantly retorted, "No, I didn't get fired. It's my day off." Chris was once again smug. "So how come you're up so early? Is Mr. Perfect coming to pick you up before you finish your beauty sleep?" Her brother had overheard their mother's nickname for J.R. and knew it would be a useful tool for needling his sister. "If you're referring to J.R., he's working today." Jennifer's lips were set in a definite pout. Chris expelled a whistle. "Doesn't this make three shifts in a row? And he works again tomorrow!" "Why does he have to screw up our day with overtime?" Jen complained. Chris looked at his sister in disgust. "Geez, Jen, he's working his tail off, maybe working too much, and all you're worried about is missing out on some make-out time?" "Shut up, Chris!" Jen grumped, then "what do you mean working too much?" Chris hummed and turned his attention back to "Scooby Doo". "What do you mean working too much?" she insisted, punching her brother again. "You told me to shut up!" he protested, grinning. "Chris!" "Okay, okay. Look, sometimes firemen get enough sleep at night. Sometimes they get none or very little. If this is his third shift in a row, he may have not gotten enough sleep. It can be pretty dangerous, fighting fires when you're that tired. You can make mistakes." "Well, he only worked until midnight last night," Jen said defensively. "But he still has to work today's full shift plus tomorrow's." "He'll be okay," Jen said, her voice little less certain. "How did he sound this morning at six?" "How did you...?" Jen trailed off. Chris always was a sneak. She wouldn't put it past him to have been listening in on an extension. Chris just grinned. He was batting a thousand on getting Jen's goat this morning. It promised to be a good day. "By the way, Sunshine, what station is J.R. working out of today?" "127's, I think he said," Jen replied absently, examining her nails. "This is B-Shift, Jen!" Chris said in a different tone, no longer teasing. "So?" "Chet Kelly works B-Shift at 127's." Jennifer blinked, the association registering at last. "Daaaaaddy!" Jennifer wailed, running toward Roy's den. ~*~*~*~*~ The mirror in the latrine shone smudge-free as Chet wiped it energetically. From here he had a perfect view of the locker area. Larken and the squab would be busily polishing the engine for at least another hour. The rest of the crew were out hanging hose, except for Reynolds who had kitchen detail. The stenciled turnout coat was a stroke of genius, the perfect opening volley in the Phantom's campaign to harass 'Son of Pigeon'. J.R.'s reaction was predictable and satisfactory. Now to begin phase two---pigeon traps. He'd carefully watched to ascertain which of the empty lockers his squab claimed. In the bottom of Chet's locker reposed a virtual arsenal against the day when he acquired a new pigeon. None of the crew at 127's were sufficiently gullible. Reynolds even proved to be a more-than-worthy opponant, and occasionally, an ally. As he opened his bag of tricks, Chet smiled. It felt good to get back into the old groove; it made him feel years younger. "Let's see...water bombs, flour...I wonder if J.R. heard about the cupcake in Johnny's helmet?" The Phantom's eyes flashed and he tugged his mustache in anticipation. ~*~*~*~*~ The sun was already high in the afternoon sky when Johnny finished brushing down the colt he'd been working with since August. He was sleek and black, showy and well-behaved; he would fetch a good price. J.R. was given the privilige of naming this one and had dubbed him "Moon Shadow". Since early morning Johnny's thoughts had not strayed from his son. Though working the colt occupied his energy, the horse's glossy black mane and quiet grace brought to mind J.R.'s increasingly longer raven hair and shy humor. Would his son, who had been forced to deal with cruel jokes and harassment more than most, now suffer humiliation at the hands of the Phantom? Over the years Johnny learned to tolerate Chet's constant needling and practical jokes and even, on occasion, looked beneath them to find a friend. They'd spent off-duty time together occasionally---when Johnny didn't have a date and Roy was busy with his family. Kelly, Gage knew, found it hard to make conversation without wisecracks and he suspected it covered a soft heart---but only suspected. Every station enjoyed the same conversational badinage and Johnny was sure 15's was no exception. But J.R.'s personality was not one that encouraged teasing. He's more like Roy, in that way, than like me, Johnny realized. J.R. has a sense of humor and occasionally will come out with a good joke, but he isn't a joker like Kelly. I just hope he'll be okay. ~*~*~*~*~ The engine looks pretty good, J.R thought as he stood back to admire his handiwork. His shoulder ached and the headache had resumed with a vengeance. Now that the engine was cleaned and polished he could stretch out on his bunk for a while. A lunch of soup and salad with spice cake for dessert already seemed a long time in the past. it would be a few hours until supper. "Not bad, Babe," Chet Kelly informed J.R. as he walked around the engine conducting a personal inspection. The engineer paused to pull a handkerchief from his back pocket, swipe at some imaginary dust and wipe a perceived smear from one of the dials. J.R. decided to ignore the earlier incident, vowing to cover up the word "Baby" on his turnout at the earliest opportunity. Maybe if he didn't make a big deal of it, Chet would do nothing further. Baby Gage seriously underestimated the Phantom. With a backward glance at his would-be nemesis, the young firefighter wandered into the kitchen to take the edge off his appetite before finding his bunk for a nap. Watching Gage's departing back, Chet's eyes sparkled. The Squab, he now thought of it with a capital "S", and Pigeon were cut from the same cloth. He listened impatiently for the telltale sound of the refrigerator door opening and counted to ten. He wasn't disappointed. J.R. opened the refrigerator, relieved to see still a half gallon of milk remaining in the jug. "Aaargh!" When he removed the milk jug, the young fireman was inundated by a water bomb from Chet's trademark spring-mount booby trap. Chet watched in glee as his Squab stalked angrily across the apparatus bay, his face and hair dripping onto his soaked blue uniform shirt. If looks could kill, Chet thought happily, I'd be six feet under right now. He started counting again. "Accck, Kelly! Ptui!" J.R. brushed at the flour on his eyes and mouth. The fine white powder quickly united with the water on his skin to form a gooey mask. As if fate was on the Phantom's side, the tones immediately sounded for Engine 127. "STATION 51...ENGINE 36...ENGINE 127... STRUCTURE FIRE...LAS PALMAS ELEMENTARY SCHOOL...1427 DELACAMP...1-4-2-7 DELACAMP...TIME OUT 14:28" Grabbing a towel, J.R. managed to wipe the majority of the globby white paste from his face and neck before hurrying to the engine. He pulled on his turnout coat and plunked his helmet down, tightening the chin strap. There was a momentary bit of resistance before he felt more slimy goo slide down his face and the back of his neck. I don't really want to know, he thought. Captain Vaughn looked back at the men riding behind him, then did a double-take. J.R. Gage looked a miserable mess. Under his helmet the captain could see traces of a white paste clinging to the young man's hair. A stream of egg yolk ran down the bridge of Gage's nose, dripping yellow gobs onto his turnout. Across from Gage Larken tried desperately to keep a straight face while J.R. glared in fury at Kelly's back. A smirk settled on the engineer's lips as he occasionally peeked at his new pigeon in the rearview mirror. Chief Stanley, Vaughn thought, how did you put up with that for all those years? Kelly, when we get back, we're gonna have a talk. Children ran helter-skelter around the playground as the engines and squad pulled up. Teachers frantically attempted to round up their charges and count noses. Smoke poured from the windows of one room on the south side of the single-story building; the fire seemed to be confined to a relatively small area. Captain Jeff Brady of Station 51 directed them to stand by as 51's crew hurried into the building. Moments later they came back outside, the paramedics supporting a single victim between them. J.R. felt a tug at the bottom of his turnout coat. He looked down to see a circle of children eyeing him in curiosity. "Mister," said one small urchin with red hair and no front teeth, "how come you have yellow stuff running down your face?" J.R. wiped the sticky slime away with the back of one gloved hand and glared at Chet Kelly. "He ran 'a-fowl' of a chicken," Kelly quipped. "Get it kid? 'A-fowl'?" The child shook his head in bewilderment and Chet sighed. Humor is wasted on kids, he thought uncharitably. "Hey, Gage, I'd heard eggs were good for your hair, but you're supposed to eat them---not wear them." This time the kids giggled as J.R. looked up into the amused green eyes of Firefighter Dave Konnitsky. He'd forgotten his friend was also working overtime on B-Shift today. 127's engineer made a face at the group of kids that laughed at Konnitsky's joke. "What's the story, Dave?" J.R. asked, nodding at the school building. He was trying to forget that he looked like a cake mix at the moment. "Lots of smoke, lots of noise and not much flame," Konnitsky answered. "We put it out with an extinguisher." "Mr. Treese showed us how the colonists made gunpowder," the red-headed child explained. "He wanted to show us how it worked...and it sure did!" "Is Mr. Treese the science teacher?" Dave asked, removing his helmet for a moment. "Naw," said another boy, "Mr. Treese teaches history. Mr. Bell is the science teacher; he would have known better." The child's explanation was interrupted as one of the little girls looked closely at the flame-haired fireman. "Hey! It's Fireman Dave!" A mob of children instantly surrounded Konnitsky. They recognized him from the demonstration he and Johnny had given earlier in the month. "Hi, Dave!" "Remember me?" "Are you gonna talk to us today again?" "Do you have more stickers?" "Where's Captain Johnny?" J.R. looked down to see a blue-eyed blond little girl gazing at him with a look that was half adoration and half bewilderment. "Captain Johnny?" she asked timidly, her eyes glued to his face. "No, sweetheart," J.R. said, "my name is J.R.; Captain Johnny is my dad. We look a lot alike, huh?" She nodded hesitantly. "Will you see Captain Johnny today?" "I'll see him Monday morning when we get off work. Is there something you wanted me to tell him for you?" She nodded and crooked her finger, motioning for J.R. to bend down. When he did she whispered in his ear, "Tell him that Becky...Rebecca...loves him, and ask him if he'll marry me when I grow up. Okay?" J.R. stifled a chuckle as he peered into her earnest blue eyes. He knew from pictures at home that this little girl could have easily been Jennifer DeSoto at that age. Maybe someday he and Jen would have a daughter that looked just like this one. "I'll give him your message," J.R. promised her, his crooked grin making an appearance for the first time that day. Becky sighed as the tall young man stood up and walked over toward Fireman Dave. If Captain Johnny didn't pan out as husband material, maybe she would settle for his son. He sure was cute, even if he did have eggs in his hair. "New girlfriend?" Dave asked, breaking away from his crowd of admirers. "Jennifer's gonna be jealous." J.R. grinned again and shook his head, "Prospective step-mother," he explained. Dave threw back his head and howled, realizing what the little girl must have said to J.R. in confidence. This would be good for a lot of teasing at the station. "Konnitsky!" Captain Brady waved for Dave to return to Engine 51 and Captain Vaughn climbed into his seat beside Chet. "You need a personal invitation, Gage?" Cap Vaughn prompted. J.R. hurriedly climbed into his seat and Engine 127 roared out of the parking lot. ~*~*~*~*~ "Let's see...mayo, ham, salami...get those pickles out of here...mustard, lettuce and sliced tomato. A Hero for a hero!" Johnny finished his play-by-play narration on sandwich construction and hummed tunelessly while grabbing a handful of potato chips from the bag. His eyes widened in appreciation of his culinary masterpiece. "Mmmmmm...genius at work!" Stopping to pop open a Pepsi, he headed for 'his' recliner and picked up the TV remote. Johnny had no more than wrapped his lips around a huge bite of sandwich when the phone rang. He lowered his sandwich, giving it a longing glance before shuffling to the kitchen to answer the phone. This better be important! "Gage home, John speaking," he answered, a little put out. "Hey, Cap!" "Konnitsky, you're interrupting my dinner! Don't you have a fire to put out or something?" "Nope, just got back from a fire at Las Palmas School." Johnny came to attention. "Was anybody hurt? How bad was the fire?" "Relax, Cap," Konnitsky reassured him. "Nobody was hurt, just a chemistry experiment gone bad. One teacher ate some smoke, but no kids were injured." Johnny exhaled in relief; they'd been a good group of kids. "Oh, Cap, I saw a couple of people you know while we were there." "Oh, yeah?" Johnny knew instinctively that Dave was about to get to the reason for his call. "127's was there too." The captain tensed. "Did you see J.R.?" He tried to sound casual. "Yeah. And Chet Kelly." The sound of the young fireman's voice portended bad news. "Go on." "It looks like Kelly has been pulling stuff on J.R.---either that or your son has started using flour and eggs instead of shampoo. Oh, and somebody stenciled 'Baby' Gage on the back of his turnouts." Dave fell silent. He could easily envision his captain's face as it set in anger. After a few moments of silence Johnny asked, "How was he taking it?" "About like you'd expect. If he had a gun, Kelly would be ventilated." "Thank you, Dave. I'm afraid J.R. will just have to figure out how to deal with Chet Kelly on his own. I can't interfere...J.R.'s a grown man." Disappointed with his captain, Dave frowned in silent disapproval. In Johnny's place he would have stormed over to 127's and made mincemeat of the mocking engineer. "Oh, Cap," this time Konnitsky sounded mischievous, "somebody else you know was there---J.R.'s future step-mother." "What?!! That's news to me. Who's the lucky lady?" Johnny rapidly ran through a mental list of his acquaintances that could have possibly been at the school. Drawing a blank, Johnny waited for Dave's response. "She's a beautiful girl, Cap, blond, blue-eyed, the sweetest smile..." "Jennifer?" Johnny guessed. "Nope. Besides, I said J.R.'s future step-mother!" "Okay, I give up..." "Remember that little girl that became so attached to you the day we did the presentation?" Gage searched his memory for a name---the face he wouldn't forget. She looked so much like Jennifer that if he didn't know Roy better... "Becky...Rebecca!" Johnny recalled out loud. "That's the one. Anyway she was whispering in your son's ear. I bet if you don't wait on her, she'll be glad to take J.R." Johnny chuckled. "Konnitsky..." "Yeah, Cap?" "Thanks for calling." "You're welcome." "Now get to work." Johnny's stomach rumbled to remind him of the large sandwich still awaiting his attention on the table beside his recliner. "Bye, Cap." "Good-bye, Konnitsky." ~*~*~*~*~ Roy paused in the act of waxing his car to scratch an itchy spot on his nose. He too had spent the day wondering and worrying about J.R. Gage. Jennifer burst into the den shortly after Roy finished his conversation with Terry Vaughn. It felt awkward but he was glad he had made the call. "Daddy!" Jennifer accosted him breathlessly, "J.R.'s working today with Chet Kelly!" The end of the world could hold no greater threat in his daughter's eyes. She'd heard over the years about the humiliating tricks Chet pulled on Johnny and she didn't want it happening to J.R. "Honey, he's a big boy," Roy told her. "There's nothing I can do." He mentally crossed his fingers, thinking of what he'd already done. "But Daddy, Chet's so mean sometimes, and J.R.'s...not." "Jennifer, I can't step in---it isn't my station and J.R. isn't my son." "Not yet..." Jennifer reminded him, "but someday." "Until that day comes I stay out of it. Besides what makes you think J.R. can't take care of himself?" The same thing that makes me think it. Roy pushed his guilty thoughts back into a mental box and returned to his daughter's persistent harangue. "Daddy, he's only nineteen." "Jen, he's a fireman, fire...man. Besides, Captain Vaughn will make sure J.R. doesn't get hurt." Realizing that she would get nowhere with more wheedling once her father's face took on that set determined look, Jennifer pulled her lips into a pout and stormed out of the room. "I guess nobody cares about J.R. but me," she tossed back over her shoulder as she stomped out. Roy was brought abruptly, and pleasantly, back to the present as Joanne's hands snaked around his waist. "It looks good, honey," she whispered into his ear. The throaty tone in her voice ignited a spark. His hand was clumsy as he put the lid on the paste wax and set it aside and turned in her arms, his attention redirected without protest. "What say we take this beautiful machine back to the make-out spot, Lover?" Joanne proposed. She giggled as Roy's ears reddened. "That sounds like a proposition, Mrs. DeSoto," he growled, raising his eyebrows before planting a kiss on her waiting lips. "It is," Jo affirmed, pleased and surprised that Roy hadn't looked around like a little boy raiding the cookie jar before kissing her in public. His mood suddenly shifted as his mind returned to the topic that had him worried all day. "Jo, I need to go out to Johnny's for a little while." The moment was spoiled and Joanne's face mirrored the question in her mind. "J.R. is working with Chet Kelly. I know he's a grown man, I know he isn't my son. I even told Jennifer I wouldn't interfere..." "...but he's going to be a part of your family and he's been hurt a lot in the past, and he's no match for the Phantom," Joanne finished for him. "Honey, one of the things I love about you is the way you protect the people you care about. As much as I grouse about the constant diet of 'Mr. Perfect' around here, he kind of grows on you. And...he's going to be my son-in-law too, you know. Want some company?" "Jo, do you know why I love you so much?" "Yes, and you can show me later at the make-out spot. Get in the car, hose jockey, and let's go to Johnny's. He's probably a basket-case by now." ~*~*~*~*~ "ENGINE 127...SQUAD 36...MULTIPLE VEHICLE ACCIDENT WITH INJURIES ...I -405 OFF RAMP AT WENDOVER...POLICE ARE RESPONDING...TIME OUT 14:08." Men scrambled from all corners of the station converging on the vehicles as the call-out finished and the bay doors rose. Engine 127 wove its way through traffic to reach the accident scene. Cars and trucks made a snarled stationary line for a couple of miles, trying to exit the 405. Police cruisers opened up a route along the shoulder for the engine to join Squad 36. An eighteen-wheeler lay upside-down at the bottom of the off ramp embankment, having skidded off the shoulder while trying to avoid two cars parked along the side of the ramp. Drivers from both cars stood gaping in mute horror as the truck's cab began to smoke, then burst into flame. Other drivers from several cars started running toward the burning vehicle in hopes of somehow helping the trapped driver. "Larken, grab a reel line and Reynolds, an inch-and-a-half. Let's get that fire out," Vaughn said over his shoulder. "Gage, you're with me." J.R. followed Terry Vaughn and Larken down to the burning cab, pulling on his gloves as they ran. Speed was of the essence if they hoped to extract the driver before the gas tank exploded. Vaughn noted with dismay that the truck was a tanker hauling some sort of flammable liquid. Captain Terry Vaughn requested a second alarm assignment as back-up in case the tanker itself caught fire. Captain Vaughn told the other motorists to go back to their cars. Some went reluctantly, still carrying small, ineffective fire extinguishers, stubbornly determined to be of assistance. Others realized the danger and ran from the area. 36's paramedics waited anxiously, unable to approach the fully-involved cab. Larken turned the spray on the cab, joined shortly by Reynolds with an inch-and-a-half. When the fire in the cab was out, Larken shifted to direct a spray on the gas tank while the other man hosed down the tanker. The paramedics rushed toward the door of the cab but were unable to open it. J.R. could still hear the screams of the trapped driver as he ran to retrieve the pry bar Cap ordered. Engines 51 and 118 arrived shortly and added their streams of water to those already being used to cool down the tanker. J.R felt a lump in his throat as he and Cap Vaughn assisted in removing the badly burned driver from the mangled and charred vehicle. At times like this he wished he could do more to help. Walking back up the hill, holding one end of a Stokes stretcher, Gage impassively eyed the slow-moving line of rubber-necking motorists. He'd quickly gotten used to being part of the spectacle after his first few weeks as a firefighter. They weren't watching him, he'd quickly realized, they were just looking for a thrill. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a man eagerly clicking away with his camera. Righteous indignation for the victim suddenly ripped away his impassivity. How could people be so callous as to violate the privacy and dignity of another human being, especially one in so much agony. It seemed, somehow, obscene. J.R. turned and glared at the man with the camera until he retreated back into his car. "Vultures!" J.R. spat giving the whole line of cars an angry look. "Look at them. What do they find so attractive?" "Maybe they like your looks, Baby," one of the paramedics joked, puffing as he carried the heavy drug box and biophone up the steep embankment. J.R. treated the man to the same dirty look he'd just given the motorists. I wouldn't be so uncaring, he vowed, if I were a paramedic! ~*~*~*~*~ The nagging feeling just wouldn't go away. I'm worried about my son, Johnny finally admitted to himself. He's not as easy-going as I am. He takes things more seriously and holds the hurt in. He won't try to get even, he'll just put up with it and get angry inside. Mowing the lawn, mucking out stalls, and filling potholes in the lane that lead to the house didn't take his mind off the situation any more than the early morning ride or an hour of cartoons on TV. His head buried in the depths of the refrigerator, Johnny didn't hear Roy approach from behind. "Hi!" THWACK! Johnny's head impacted with the same refrigerator rack that' J.R.'s did early that morning. "OW! Geez, Roy, you nearly gave me a concussion...not to mention a heart attack!. Here, hold this..." Johnny handed Roy the makings for hamburgers while he dove after a couple of cold beers. "Hi, stranger!" CLUNK! Johnny found the rack again. Wincing, he added a third bottle and backed out of the refrigerator. "Hi, Jo." He handed her a beer and went to work on the burgers. "You know, I hear married people get more alike as the years go by. I should have learned by now, I guess, that when one of you scares the hell out of me, I need to watch out for the other one." Johnny rubbed the sore spot on top of his head. "It's called teamwork, Johnny," Jo teased, "you ought to try it. Here, let me see." She reached up to check the back of his head for a goose egg. "I'm fine. I didn't hit it that hard." "Then why did you flinch if it isn't sore?" Joanne put her hands on her hips in the condescending, big-sisterly pose Johnny knew so well. "It isn't the force, it's the frequency." Johnny shot her a crooked grin. Joanne raised her beer and winked at him, "You know, I've heard that." Roy missed the by-play. "Junior, I thought J.R. was teaching you to cook." He gestured to the food on the counter. "Hey, even if I can do Glazed Ham, Pot Roast and Chicken Cacciatore, I still like hamburgers! There's no law against eating nature's perfect food every once in a while. Besides, J.R. showed me a way to season 'em that makes 'em even better." Roy held up his hands in defeat as Joanne rooted for the makings of a salad. Now that J.R. lived here she didn't have to worry about not being able to find real food in the Gage refrigerator. "Hey, Partner, I do believe there's some charcoal on the porch, and you know where the grill is." Johnny paused in the formation of burger patties to shoot a glance at Roy who was lounging against the counter drinking his beer. "Yes, mother." Roy took the hint and sauntered out onto the porch. "You know, Johnny, just because you can cook now doesn't mean you have to stop dropping by for dinner...or breakfast." Joanne busily tore lettuce into a wooden bowl. "I figured you'd appreciate the break," Johnny admitted. "After nearly twelve years, Johnny, it isn't a break, it's an abberation. I miss having you around." Johnny concentrated on his preparations for dinner. He had to admit to spending less time at the DeSoto's since J.R. moved in. He wasn't lonely anymore. And dating became more of a pleasant pastime than the obsession it used to be. What about when J.R. left home? It was pretty good odds he would marry Jennifer in a couple of years. Johnny didn't want to think about living alone again. Maybe Joanne was right. Maybe he should find a real live-in partner. Maybe he'd avoided the "M" word long enough. Just the thought brought cold chills. Sharing a bed was one thing, but sharing his life? He'd have to think on that some more. Thoughts of J.R. brought back his earlier worries. How was his son faring against the Phantom? "I'm sure he'll be okay, Johnny. J.R. can deal with a lot more than you think he can." Joanne had been watching the play of emotions on Johnny's face. He was so transparent...and that was part of his charm. A girl never had to wonder what he was thinking. If John Gage didn't expound at length for hours on his current thoughts, his eyes would betray them. She wished Roy was as easy to read. Sometimes getting him to tell her what was on his mind was like pulling teeth. How does she do that? Johnny wondered. It was ...eerie the way Joanne could read his mind. "Burgers ready for the grill?" Roy walked into the kitchen and pilfered a pickle from the plate. Joanne snatched away the plate on which she had arranged cheese, onions, tomatoes and pickles, and placed it on the table. Roy managed to snag another pickle before the plate moved away. As Joanne turned back, he caught her for a quick hug. "Hey! Do that in your own kitchen," Johnny exclaimed in pretended indignation. "Don't you know it's not polite to eat in front of a starving man?" "So get your own, Junior," Roy said, unrepentant. Joanne wondered what had gotten into her normally undemonstrative husband. Johnny wondered the same thing. Was it some kind of conspiracy? "Here, make yourself useful," Johnny said, shoving the plate of hamburger patties at his best friend. "No rest for the weary," Roy complained, heading for the grill. Joanne chuckled and followed, a grinning Johnny right behind. The three friends stood in relaxed silence as Roy laid the burgers over the coals. The day was warm and sunny. It should have been a perfect afternoon---no children to interrupt adult conversation, no pressing deadlines. But each worried in his or her own way about the quiet teenager trying to work with the inveterate trickster, Chet Kelly. ~*~*~*~*~ Back at Station 127, J.R. jumped down from the engine and removed his turnout. "What the hell!" A cloud of dust hung in the air around the young fireman and gradually dropped to the floor of the apparatus bay at his feet. J.R. was covered with a fine white powder that lined his helmet and turnouts. Reynolds leaned in and sniffed, "Geez, Gage, you smell just like a baby's butt!" "Ha ha ha!" J.R. shook his hair, raining more of the white stuff onto the floor and covering his shoes. Baby powder! He stomped off to his locker for a clean shirt. This was getting old fast! When he opened his locker, he met with another shower of the stuff from Chet's spring-mount trap. He shut the locker door and sat down on a nearby chair, his face in his hands. Would this day never end? Captain Vaughn peeked into the locker room through the window in the door. Seeing Gage seated on the one chair, a picture of dejection, he hesitated before entering, then pushed open the door. "Gage, if you want, I'll have a talk with Kelly, tell him to knock it off." Vaughn waited for the firefighter's response. He was a good judge of character, and wasn't disappointed. "No, Cap. Thanks anyways. If you do that, he will have won. He'll have proved either that I can't take it or that I can't fight my own battles. I have to deal with this in my own way." "You're probably a better man than me, son," Vaughn told him, pausing to clap the young fireman on the back. "My dad put up with his sh...jokes for eleven years," J.R. said, shaking his head in amazement. "How he did it, I'll never know. But I guess I can handle it for one shift." "Well, if it gets to be more than you can stand, let me know." J.R. nodded, but they both knew he wouldn't ask for help. Still, Cap Vaughn's support made the junior Gage feel a little less alone. A quick shower and change into a clean uniform put J.R. in a better frame of mind. Rancor washed down the drain along with the powder as he saw the humor in the situation. It was an infantile trick, but harmless enough. Heaven knew he'd had enough practical jokes pulled on him in high school by kids whose only motivation was spite. Chet Kelly, J.R. decided, isn't going to get the best of J.R. Gage. And I won't stoop to his level by trying to get even. 'Ignore it and it will go away' worked well in high school; maybe it will work here too. By seven p.m. J.R. began to doubt both the wisdom of his plan and the strength of his resolve. He'd been hit with two more water bombs and received a face full of shaving cream pie. He was down to his last clean uniform shirt and the shift was less than half over. He'd brought all his uniforms with him so he could go straight to 15's from here. Now he would have to wear this same shirt for the rest of this shift and all of the next one. "Gage," Kelly sang out, "phone." J.R. ran to the dorm and picked up the extension. He knew who he hoped it would be...he could use a good dose of Sunshine right about now. "I've got it!" he yelled into the bay and waited until he heard the click as the other phone was returned to the cradle. "Fireman Gage." "Hi, honey." Yes!!!! It was Jen. "Sunshine, it's so good to hear your voice." The longing in J.R.'s tone brought a lump to Jen's throat. "Your's too, sweetheart. How's your shift going?" "Pretty bad," J.R. admitted. "Gosh, I miss you, Jen. I'm so sorry I volunteered for this one. I should have spent the day with you. We could have gone to the beach and watched the sunset. I could have held you tight in our favorite spot on the shore break and kissed you until neither of us could breathe." "Mmmmm," Jen replied, imagining the scene described. "I'm sorry too, J.R., I've been mad at you all day for working instead of spending time with me. I know you want a car so we won't have to borrow Uncle Johnny's Rover all the time." J.R. felt a stab of guilt as he thought about the Harley. He still hadn't told her about that. Now, however, would not be a good time. "I guess I'm selfish where you're concerned, and possessive," she continued. "I like that, honey," J.R. replied, "you can be as possessive as you want about me. I don't mind." Nobody had ever cared before except his mother, and now his father and Jen. It felt wonderful to know he was wanted and loved. "J.R., what all has Chet done to you today?" He didn't have to ask how she knew. He'd been naive, it seemed. Everyone expected that J.R. would be the victim of Kelly's pranks---everyone except J.R. Trying not to sound bitter, J.R. recited the litany of Chet Kelly's stunts to date, ending with "...and I'm wearing my last clean shirt. So far it's all been harmless. Thank goodness he doesn't know about my allergy to bay leaves." J.R. shuddered, remembering his close call and the subsequent stay at Rampart. "Even Chet wouldn't be that mean," Jennifer reassured him. "No, I suppose not. Even if he was, I have my epi pen---I've learned my lesson." After a few minutes of conversation during which Jennifer did her best to make him feel special and loved, J.R. hung up the phone. He whistled as he made his way to the dayroom, his good mood restored. In the kitchen, Chet Kelly hung up the extension and hurried to find a seat in front of the television with the rest of the guys. Smiling with glee, Chet made further plans. The Squab was in for a long night. ~*~*~*~*~ Three concerned friends sat on Johnny's front porch watching the stars come out. Johnny sipped his beer, sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs that flanked the front door. Joanne occupied its twin while Roy perched on the railing. They were of varying opinions about the situation. "I just think we should ask Terry Vaughn to keep Chet off J.R.'s back," Roy asserted. "Did that ever work at 51's?" Joanne asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. "No, Jo, it never did. As hard as Cap tried to shut the Phantom down, it never worked. Chet always had to pull one more gag, one more prank, one more humiliating joke on his Pigeon." Johnny took a long draw on the bottle before setting it down, empty, beside his chair. "Terry seems to be stricter than Cap was," Roy said hopefully. Johnny just shook his head, still refusing to interfere. "Chet Kelly needs a good lesson," Joanne argued. "Agreed," Roy nodded, "but what?" The ringing of the telephone inside gave Johnny an excuse to get up. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out against Roy and Joanne. He still believed his interference would humiliate J.R., but he was angry that his son now suffered for his father's lack of action. If Johnny had taken steps to stop the pranks instead of always trying to get even, J.R. wouldn't be dealing with this now. This was a war between Johnny and Chet. Kelly had no business extending it to include J.R. Gage also knew that wouldn't stop the Phantom. "Gage home, John speaking...oh hi, Jen. Yeah, they're here. Your mom or your dad? Okay, just a second. Roy! Your daughter wants to speak to you!" Johnny disposed of his empty bottle and returned to the porch. "Okay, Jen, we'll take care of it," Johnny heard Roy tell his daughter. "And Jennifer, are you absolutely sure Chet wasn't listening on the extension? He likes to do that you know. Okay...okay...I'll tell him. Don't worry, sweetheart, help is on the way. ...Bye...love you too." Roy sauntered back out onto the porch, clearly disturbed by the conversation with his daughter, just ended. He had to somehow convince Johnny to intervene. "What's the matter? Bad news?" Johnny held his breath trying not to look as concerned as he was. "Johnny, Chet's been getting the best of J.R. all day. Your son is down to one clean shirt. And...if Chet was listening on the extension, he may have heard J.R. mention his allergy to bay leaves." Eyes widening in dismay, Johnny jumped out of his chair as if launched and ran into the house. He took the stairs two at at time and ran to his son's bedroom. A moment later he emerged, pausing before heading toward his own room. "Roy!" Johnny yelled from the top of the stairs, "I'm getting J.R. a couple of my shirts. Call 127's and tell J.R. not to eat anything---not anything before we get there." Johnny remembered seeing J.R.'s epi pen on his dresser when he carried clean laundry into his son's room earlier that day. It must have fallen out of his gym bag this morning as he removed the dirty clothes. The senior Gage hoped it wasn't already too late. "Nobody's home at 127's," Roy announced when Johnny came down the stairs carrying two fresh uniform shirts still wrapped in plastic from the cleaners...and J.R.'s epi pen. Gage stopped in the kitchen to grab a couple of apples, some crackers, and a jar of peanut butter. At least J.R. wouldn't go hungry. Joanne met Johnny at the door as he prepared to leave. "Johnny, there's only room in the Porsche for two, so I'll wait here. He'll be all right, you'll see." The lines of anger and worry in his face didn't fade with her words. Johnny's smile was strained. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and ran out to join Roy in the Porsche. ~*~*~*~*~ END OF PART I the story continues