Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice by Nexxie Part II Clean-up after the fire seemed to take forever; everyone was exhausted and ready to go home. They'd pulled out of the station that morning at a little before three. With all the patient evacuations, the stubborn fire and missing men, it was past time for shift change when Engine 15 finally backed into the apparatus bay. Covered in soot and grime, drenched in sweat and bone tired, the men of Station 15's C-Shift changed out of their turnouts and prepared to go home. Squad 15 backed in a few minutes later with a report on the firefighters from 51's and 99's. Taylor a concussion and some bruised ribs, so he was admitted. Sparks was also concussed and suffered multiple bruises, but no broken bones; he was sharing a room with Taylor. Cap Gage didn't seem too badly injured, but taken in some smoke. He would probably be released yet this morning. After a much-needed shower J.R. changed into jeans and a T-shirt and jumped into Konnitsky's waiting Camaro. Dave would take him over to pick up the Rover at 51's and he would go from there to Rampart. His dad was not going to be too happy. Crawford informed him that Captain Gage was being attended to by Dr. Morton. Maybe I'll take my time and stop in at the supermarket for coffee and eggs on the way there and...oh yeah, one other item. He smiled; some errands are more pleasant than others. ******************* "Gage, you may be in charge at Station 51, but in MY treatment room, I'M the boss. Now get back up on that table." Mike Morton stood with his arms crossed waiting for Johnny to comply. For once Dixie McCall didn't side with the fireman against Morton's less-than-tactful bedside manner. Instead she walked over to Mike's side and crossed her own arms in a perfect imitation of the doctor. As Dixie's eyebrows raised in challenge, John Gage returned to the examining table and carefully hoisted himself onto it, aware that he was outgunned. Somewhat surprised to see Dixie on his side as well as at his side, Mike let a small smile of satisfaction slip through before approaching his recalcitrant patient. He and Johnny gone head to head over the years about hiding illness and injury; this was most likely just another example of Gage's bullheadedness. "I told you there's nothing wrong with me that a hot bath and a good night's sleep won't cure." Johnny was stubbornly attempting to avoid giving a name to his ailment. It was bad enough to suffer through it, but an examination into the cause of his limp would be beyond embarrassing. "Well, since you've diagnosed yourself and prescribed treatment doctor, why don't you tell me why you're walking with a limp so that we can all be satisfied." Morton wasn't about to give up, especially on this rare occasion where he Dixie's support. With an uneasy look at Nurse McCall, Johnny muttered, "M'turnoutschafedme." "What was that? You'll have to talk louder." "M'turnoutschafedme." Johnny's answer was louder, but no clearer. "Gage, we're adults here, not children, so let's stop playing childish games. Either speak clearly or get undressed for an examination." Enough was enough. "Dammit! I said my turnouts chafed me. Didja hear it that time?" Johnny refused to look either the doctor or the nurse in the eye, sure they were laughing at his expense. Dixie coughed to hide a chuckle as Morton, struggling to remain professional, asked, "Where?" "Where what?" "Where did your turnouts chafe you?" Dr. Morton tried, but didn't succeed in hiding a grin. He glanced sideways at Dixie as she turned away---not quick enough to conceal her amusement. "Where do you think?!" Gage responded through clenched teeth. ******************* J.R. Gage studiously avoided the ER waiting area, heading directly to the admissions desk. "Could you give me a room number for a Mrs. Martin? I don't know her first name, but she was brought in last night with a sprained ankle and smoke inhalation. She was one of the victims of the fire at the retirement home." "Oh, yes, her name is Velda Martin and she's in room 316. You'll have to hurry, though, she's going to be released soon." The student nurse filling in at admissions gave J.R. her best smile mixed in with a little 'eye action'. The young man in skin-tight jeans with the soft brown eyes and shy manner was worth a little encouragement. Her supervisor spied the slightly wistful look on the young girl's face and rolled her eyes. Like father, like son, she thought fleetingly, then softened. She'd gone out with Johnny Gage a couple times herself before she met her current love interest. J.R. acknowledged the girl's help with a smile, waving a small potted African Violet in salute. "Thank ya," he said, before heading toward the bank of elevators. The student nurse leaned over the desk to get a better view of his...departure. "Put your eyes back in your head, Dawn," Nurse Ellen Bart said, "and see if you can get those charts ready for Dr. Morton before he finishes with that boy's father." "Yes, Miss Bart." Dawn Demerest reddened and settled back down to work, but kept one eye on the hallway, watching for J.R.'s return. Ellen stifled a quick chuckle when her young protegee did a double take and then another as 'that boy's father' left Treatment Four and came face to face with the gawking student nurse.  He looked at Ellen with a question in his eyes, his mood lacking its normal good humor. "She just talked with J.R.," Nurse Bart explained. While the explanation gave understanding, it did nothing to alleviate the acute embarrassment and discomfort the senior Gage was experiencing.  He just grunted an 'oh' and stalked away, thus earning himself the reputation among the young nurse's acquaintances as 'the cute one's cute but grumpy father'. ******************* "Hold the elevator!" a female voice called as a shapely blond woman in a nurse's uniform hurried breathlessly toward the closing doors. J.R. quickly pushed the 'Door Open' button and held the car for Liz Preston. "Four please," she puffed before looking into a familiar pair of amused brown eyes. "J.R., hello. What are you doing here? Is your dad hurt, or is it one of your shiftmates?" Liz looked pointedly at the violets. "Well, Dad's with Dr. Morton right now, but I don't think it's serious. I'm steering clear of the area for a while---they don't have the best doctor-patient relationship, if you know what I mean." J.R. gave her a lopsided grin. Liz nodded. Johnny's dislike of Morton's bedside manner was common knowledge. "So who gets the violets?" "A lady injured in last night's fire. She was scared and lonely, so I promised to check in on her today. She said her grandson used to bring her violets, but he doesn't come to see her anymore. Well, here's my floor." He grinned at Liz and exited the car. Whew! Cute and thoughtful. If I was ten years younger... But then, there's always his daddy. Nurse Preston watched J.R. disappear down the hall as the elevator doors closed. J.R. peeked around the open door of room 316. Mrs. Martin sat on her bed looking disconsolately out the window. The vista offered little to inspire the viewer---rooftop air conditioners whirred busily just below and beyond that was the parking lot. Scenery in the distance was obscured by the brownish haze that lay over the Los Angeles area like a dirty blanket. The small plastic flower pot hidden carefully behind his back, J.R. knocked on the door frame and summoned up his widest grin. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin. How's the ankle?" The white-haired lady turned toward the cheery voice and quickly brushed a stray tear from her soft, wrinkled cheek. Her look of confusion prompted the young firefighter to make a quick explanation of his presence. "It's J.R. Gage, Mrs. Martin. I'm a fireman; we talked a little bit last night and you said I reminded you of your grandson, Peter." J.R. waited to see if she would remember. If not, he would leave. She didn't need any more confusion. "Oh, yes, I recall now. You did say you would stop by today, but I never thought you would. Young people are usually too busy to think about old folks." He could tell from the sad distant look in her eyes that she was really talking about her grandson. "Well, I to come pick up my dad this morning---he's the fireman that carried you out of the building. He was slightly injured later. It isn't bad, you know, just enough to make him sore and grouchy for a few days." J.R. smiled conspiratorially and winked, drawing a smile from the old woman in return. "Anyway," he continued, "I thought you might give this little guy a home." He pulled the violet from behind his back and set it on the windowsill. Against the gray and brown background of the world outside, the plant with its deep purple blossoms and velvety green leaves lent a cheerful bit of color to the 'restful' monotone beige of the hospital room. The woman's face lit up as she smiled in delight. "Oh, a violet! Thank you so much...J.R., was it? I don't know what to say." She picked up the small pot and held it in her hands like a priceless treasure. After a moment the old woman's eyes met those of the young firefighter and her face seemed to crumple. "I don't know what's going to happen to me now," she cried. "Everything I left in the world was in my room. Now it's all gone...all my pictures, my books, my clothes. I couldn't even find my purse when the fireman...your father?...when he carried me out. He was kind and said that my purse was replaceable but I wasn't." "I suppose he was right," she said brokenly, "but now I have nothing, not even a home." J.R. placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Mrs. Martin, I'm sure the retirement home is busy right now finding places for all the residents until they can rebuild." He hoped he was right. He intended to find out...somehow. The woman shook herself as if to cast off a mood and said briskly, "Well, young man, I daresay you are right. But don't concern yourself with an old woman. Thank you for the violet; it will keep me from sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Now you go get that father of yours and tell him from me that I hope he gets better soon---don't make him wait on my account." J.R. took Mrs. Martin's hand to bid her goodbye. "I'll be seeing you," he said, "that's a promise. A Gage always keeps a promise." Looking at this young man's determined face, Velda Martin dared to believe he meant it. ******************* Johnny stood waiting in the hallway of the ER for his son to appear. The boy has to be here somewhere... the Rover's out there. If he doesn't get his butt down here pretty soon he's gonna walk home. The session with Morton gone less than well. Once he'd found out the nature of Johnny's 'injury', he gave the usual lecture about prevention: wearing clothes that breathe, changing often...the whole routine. Let the good doctor run around in over sixty pounds of clothing and equipment for four hours up close and personal with a fire on a night that's already hot and humid. Let him get soaked by the hoses until water and sweat runs down his back all the way to his shorts. Yeah, let Morton try that for a while and see how it feels! Rounding the corner from the elevators, J.R. could see his dad leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. To say that he didn't look happy was a serious understatement. In fact, walking home alone looked pretty attractive compared to dealing with John Gage's current mood. "J.R.!" Dixie McCall hailed him from the base station desk as he passed. "Hi, Miss McCall. How's it goin'?" Any port in a storm... Dixie smiled and held out a slip of paper. "Here's a prescription Dr. Morton made out for your dad. He 'forgot' to take it with him." The younger Gage looked at her in confusion. "But he's standing right there, Miss McCall. Can't you...?" Slowly shaking her head Dixie replied with a tight smile, "He's not talking to me, much less Dr. Morton. Here's the prescription; make sure to pick it up at the pharmacy and see that he uses it." With a heavy sigh J.R. took the proffered slip of paper and tried to read the contents. Not only was the language 'medical-ese', but Morton's scrawl gave further credence to the popular stereotype about doctors' bad handwriting. "Did I do something to make you dislike me?" he asked Dixie, his shaking head and unhappy frown belied by a mischievous twinkle in the brown eyes. "No, but he likes you." Dixie chuckled at J.R.'s rueful expression. "He did...up until now. I'll see ya, Miss McCall." "So long, J.R. Oh, and J.R., it's just 'Dixie'. That 'Miss McCall' stuff is gonna make me feel old." "Sure Miss...Dixie," he corrected himself, turning reluctantly toward his father, who was still in a huff. As he left the base station, he heard one of the nurses' plaintive voice call out, 'Miss McCall...". He snickered...old, huh? "What's so funny?" Johnny's grouchy mood radiated like a tangible thing as he straightened at his son's approach. "You sure took long enough. Whatcha got there? Some nurse's phone number?" "Not unless they gave it to Dr. Morton first," J.R. retorted. "It's your prescription; we gotta stop at the pharmacy before we leave." It was going to be a long day. ******************* J.R. Gage stopped working to look up gratefully at Jennifer DeSoto who was offering him a cool glass of water. She was the picture of elegance in a white cotton dress dotted with violets, white lace gloves, and a floppy wide-brimmed lavender hat. Her smile was the key to his happiness and he caught his breath at her beauty. Perspiration beaded on the young man's body as he labored in the hot sun building a small cabin. Shirtless, his hair damp with honest sweat, he hesitated to touch her, fearful of soiling her cool spotless appearance. He longed to take her in his strong arms and kiss her until she no thoughts of anything but him. Jennifer handed J.R. the water and fanned herself to stir up a slight breeze. It wasn't only the heat of the day that brought warmth to her face. J.R. was the best looking man around and she was the envy of every girl for miles. "How much longer will it be, sweetheart," she asked him, waiting breathlessly for the answer. It seemed like forever since the day he told her, "When I finish building this cabin, I'll have something to ask you, my love." Her parents didn't know she was here and she feared discovery. "Sixteen is much too young," they'd said, "and the boy is much too poor." But love would triumph, J.R. assured her, and he began to work on the cabin. She knew instinctively that the cabin would be their home and he was building it for her. J.R. stared at her in adoration, his beautiful brown eyes expressing the feelings that filled his chest to nearly overflowing. Suddenly he reached for her, uncaring of the consequences, and caught her close, their lips mere inches from touching. A gleam of triumph came into his eyes as his head swooped down and his mouth captured hers. "I can't wait," he declared, breaking off the kiss that seemed to burn her lips. Bending down on one knee and catching her hand in his own, he declared, "Jennifer DeSoto, I love you more than life itself, and our love will overcome the objections of our parents. All I want is to make you happy for the rest of your life, and to spend the rest of my days with you. Will you marry me?" Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, J.R. withdrew a tiny velvet box and opened it before the object of his love, presenting her with a solitaire diamond on a slim gold band. He slipped the ring on her slender finger and kissed it as a pledge. Jennifer felt tears slip from her eyes as she held the ring up to view it closely in the sunlight. The diamond blazed with a thousand stars and sparkled nearly as bright as Jennifer's own eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you, J.R. Gage, but we don't have to wait for this cabin." "Jennifer!" From a distance Jennifer could see her mother watching them and wringing her hands in anguish, afraid to tell Roy what she witnessed. J.R. stood up and looked at Jennifer, his face a picture of defiance and pride. "I don't care what they say," he cried, "I'm in love with you and sixteen is not too young. We'll manage somehow, even if both our families disown us." "Jennifer!" Joanne cried in anguish again, afraid to lose her daughter to the interloper. "Jennifer!" "Jennifer DeSoto will you wake up?!!" A banging on her bedroom door brought Jennifer fully awake, a romance novel slipping to the floor as she sat up. The Holly Hobbie lamp on her nightstand was still on from the night before when she fell asleep reading. "Jennifer, can you hear me? We're going shopping for your birthday present today and I'm going to be ready to leave in ten minutes. Jennifer?" "Okay, Mom. Just let me get dressed." ******************* John Gage reached up to swat whatever landed on his nose and found his hand entangled in a piece of ribbon. The ribbon stretched upward to where it was attached to a large silver mylar balloon that bore the cheery phrase, "Happy Birthday to the World's Best Dad". It was hard enough to focus this time of morning, Johnny thought, but that darned balloon was bobbing up and down in the breeze from his open window. Speaking of the time... He reached over for his alarm clock and brought it to within inches of his squinting eyes---yep, only five o'clock. J.R. could have given him an extra half hour to sleep instead of awakening him half an hour early. He pushed the ribbon out of the way and it stubbornly floated back to tickle his nose. He was ready to pop the blasted thing. Monday and Tuesday were spent taking it easy and resting up from his 'injury'. Despite his father's grouchy uncooperative mood, J.R. brooked no opposition in making him follow the doctor's orders, from stopping at the pharmacy to making him apply the medication Morton prescribed. And it worked---not that he would ever admit that to Dr. Mike Morton. J.R. was in a grumpy mood too, Johnny reflected, unable to come up with any ideas for Jennifer's birthday. He'd stomped around the house and done the chores with angry frustrated moves. At least he used the activity to burn off some of the frustration. Johnny smiled. I never know what to expect next from that kid. What can be so hard about buying a birthday present? I usually have to pick from a bunch of good ideas. A stirring from the barn captured his attention. Something the horses excited early this morning---excited, he deduced, but not overly alarmed. Even the horses are against me this morning, he grumped, as he threw back the sheet and reached for the pair of jeans draped across the blanket chest at the foot of his bed. Whatever it is, it better be important. As his bare feet hit the floor they encountered a tangle of ribbon that stretched out the bedroom door and into the hall. After pulling on his jeans and an old pair of sneakers, Johnny's smile reappeared as he followed the ribbon. He was pretty sure that the other end was attached to his birthday present from J.R., and he to admit more than a little curiosity. The senior Gage wondered for weeks what his son would think an appropriate gift, and now at last he would have his answer. Johnny was determined to like it, whatever it turned out to be. The ribbon changed color three times as it snaked off the back porch and across the yard to the barn. The barn door was open wide and J.R. stood grinning broadly as he held the reins of both Dusty, his buckskin colt, and Johnny's chestnut filly, Dancer. The ribbon stopped just under Dancer's left front hoof. His son held out Dancer's reins and said, "I thought we could take a short, early-morning ride. By the way, Happy Birthday, Dad!" Trying not to wonder if this was his whole birthday gift, Johnny stifled a sigh. Well, a morning ride together is a pretty good gift, he thought, vaguely disappointed. J.R. probably didn't have the money to spend for a present, and giving his time is the best he can do. Just having him here is a pretty good gift. As J.R. stepped aside, Johnny took Dancer's reins and started to put one foot in the stirrup...until he saw the saddle. A big red bow sat atop the hand-tooled saddle he admired for over a year now. For a moment he was too stunned for speech. "J.R., I don't know what to say. It's beautiful! How did you know I wanted this? And how did you manage to afford..." Johnny stopped speaking at the sight of J.R.'s upraised hand. "Why don't you try it on for size? Looks like Dancer's ready." J.R. grinned even wider, if that was possible, and mounted Dusty, watching as his father caressed the smooth leather and removed the bow before swinging up into the new saddle. "Fits like a glove!" Johnny's delighted smile seemed to light up the whole barn. As the two men rode out into the meadow, the dew on the tall grass caught the first rays of the morning sun and sparkled like a field of diamonds. They didn't have as much time as they would have liked, but it was a beautiful morning, a prize-winning beginning for the new day. After a few minutes, Johnny looked at his watch and signaled it was time to head back. The gentle canter evolved into their usual race back to the barn. Dancer was a natural runner, a long-legged filly with a smooth even stride, but Dusty lots of heart and as much determination as his rider. The two horses were used to the competition and, spurred on by the promise of the barn and their breakfast, they stretched out toward home. Johnny and his son quickly cared for their mounts, their good mood bolstered by the morning ride, and continued the race on foot. There was barely time for a quick breakfast of cereal and fruit, and an even quicker shower, before they to leave for work. As father and son headed out to pile into the Rover, Johnny caught J.R. by the arms and pulled him into a rough bear hug. "Thanks, son, for giving me the perfect birthday present and making the day start out extra special. I think this is already the best birthday I've ever ." "You're welcome, Dad," J.R. told him, returning the hug. "Now we'd better get a move on before we're both late." J.R. got in the driver's seat of the Rover, his usual spot since he'd learned to drive a couple months back. With a grin that he hid from his father, the younger Gage started the engine and headed down the long driveway to the road. He knew, being in on the preparations, that there were more pleasant surprises in store for Johnny on this birthday. He just hoped Konnitsky would remember to take pictures. ******************* "Here he comes!" Dave Konnitsky was on lookout at the kitchen entrance. He watched Johnny exit the Rover and wave goodbye as J.R. stepped on the gas and sped away. The youngest member of Johnny's Crew wondered how his captain's morning gone so far. He knew that J.R. was giving his dad the saddle this morning---the saddle that spent all day yesterday in Dave's Camaro. "You remembered the cake, Dwyer, right?" Marco was the orchestrator of the refreshments for the little shindig they planned at noon in honor of their boss. "Will you quit worrying, Lopez, I told you my wife is bringing it at noon. If we're out on a call, she'll just stick it in the fridge and wait for us to get back." Charlie Dwyer shook his head. Lopez was the anxious one on their shift. Sometimes he thought of getting him a badge that said 'official worrywart' Lopez was muttering something in Spanish at high speed when Johnny walked into the kitchen. His elementary grasp of the language didn't allow for an interpretation, but some of the words were less than complimentary, from the tone of his voice. Johnny caught the name Dwyer in there and wondered what Charlie done to upset Marco. He shook his head and went to the office to talk to Jeff Brady. "Hey, John," Jeff Brady, B-Shift's captain greeted him. "This is a late morning for you, isn't it?" There was no judgment in Brady's tone that Johnny could hear, he was just making an observation, and he was right. "Yeah," Johnny broke into a happy smile, "I'm a little on the late side...for me. You know what that kid of mine did, Jeff? He bought me the most incredible saddle for my birthday. I've been wanting that thing for a year now, but it was way outta my league budget-wise. You know I bet he spent every penny he in the world on that saddle. Isn't that incredible?" "Incredible, John," Jeff Brady agreed with an answering smile. "He's a good kid; you're lucky. And now I'm gonna be lucky and head out in..." he looked at his watch, "...three minutes to enjoy this beautiful day. My wife has a trip to the beach all planned, and we're gonna be soakin' up this gorgeous sunshine while relaxing to the sound of the surf. Yes, sir. I'll try to think of you while we're out there, John. By the way...Happy Birthday!" Brady chuckled as he walked out of the office. He would be seeing Johnny again at noon, but Cap Gage wasn't to know that. Whistling a little off tune a song that sounded suspiciously like a pop version of 'Happy Birthday' Johnny leaned out the office door and called, "Three minutes, gentlemen." That ought to rattle 'em, Johnny thought, I always give 'em five. Chuckling to himself, Johnny picked up the days notes, duty roster and new department memos, attaching them to his clipboard before checking the log from last shift. Pretty routine stuff, he noted. B-Shift paramedics reported some kind of mechanical problem with the transmission on the squad---that would have to be taken care of first thing. He made a note to call it in after morning roll call. Amidst much whispering and elbows digging into ribs, Johnny's Crew lined up for roll call. Their captain pretended to ignore the whispers, having a pretty good idea of the subject. It would be interesting to see what these guys did for his birthday. He could tell from the sideways glances that he was the topic of conversation, and since his fly wasn't open and both socks matched, it couldn't be his appearance. Johnny let a small smile appear briefly on his lips. It looked like a good day brewing. "Good morning, gentlemen." Johnny waited for the response before continuing. He could gauge the mood of his crew by the way they answered his morning greeting. It was a subtle way to catch and deal with problems and the guys probably didn't realize how much importance he placed on the first encounter of the day. Marco answered almost absently; he's preoccupied with something, Johnny thought. Charlie Dwyer nearly spat his greeting while glaring at Marco. Taylor and Konnitsky both sang out their 'good mornings' as if they hadn't a care in the world, and Greg Manley was distinctly sleepy. That might bear watching. "Looks like a beautiful day ahead of us...hot though. On that note, the Department wants us to remind you all again about the hazards of heat exhaustion and heat stroke, especially in those heavy turnouts. Be responsible and make sure you drink plenty of water to prevent dehydration. Remind each other and keep an eye out for the signs...as a matter of fact, Charlie, why don't you go over that for us later today?" Charlie nodded. "While he's doing that, Greg, you can take the Squad in for maintenance; B-Shift was having some problems with the tranny. I'll call it in shortly. There are some openings at other stations to post---I'm sure no one on this shift is interested in that. And...that's all I have as far as announcements." "Details: Manley, you're gonna be gone for a while, so you've got clean-up in the kitchen after lunch." Manley grinned; lunch was gonna be pizza and birthday cake, no problem...and no dishes. Johnny continued, "Dwyer, the bay floor needs mopped; Marco, you're chef today; Konnitsky, latrine, guy; and Taylor you have the dormitory. Let's get busy, gentlemen, before we get a..." The tones drowned out the end of Cap Gage's sentence. "STATION 51...STATION 110...ENGINE 99...STRUCTURE FIRE AT PIER 37...TIME OUT 08:22" "Station 51, KMG-365." Well, this is starting out to be an eventful day, Cap Gage thought as he skidded to a stop in front of his spot on Big Red. With a smooth, rapid movement, he pulled on his turnout coat and hopped up next to his engineer. "Let's roll, Marco!" Big Red roared out of the apparatus bay right behind Squad 51 as they sped toward the harbor. The structure on fire, an old wooden warehouse owned by a large shipping firm, was fully involved when 51's arrived. Station 110 was first on the scene and Captain Ben Jarvey was in charge. Johnny and Roy positioned their crews as Jarvey directed while Dwyer and Manley tended to a couple of dock workers with minor burns. The building gone up like tinder; the remains of some gasoline-soaked rags in one corner of the interior explained how. It was clearly arson, but there was no apparent reason. A couple of stacks of empty pallets and an overflowing trash can made up the entire contents of the building, now a blackened shell, its remaining timbers standing out like skeletal ribs. "Well, Junior, how's your birthday going so far?" Roy asked as they stood on the edge of the pier looking out at the busy harbor. "It's been great so far, Pally, and that's a fact." Johnny was in the middle of describing J.R.'s surprise birthday gift when shots rang out on the dock. A man dressed in coveralls and carrying a handgun rounded the corner of the building and ran toward the row of shipping crates near the edge of the pier. He was followed by a uniformed police officer in rapid pursuit. The engine crews ducked for cover as the gunman fired seemingly at random. Trapped between the shooter and the police officer, Roy reacted quickly, shoving Johnny off the dock and into the water before jumping off himself. The gunman reached into his coveralls for a second clip of ammunition. Not finding it, he searched all the pockets frantically...it must have fallen out. The police officer, peeked out from behind cover to fire off a shot in his direction. When no return volley was fired, he peeked out again. The man in coveralls was trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea, and unfortunately for him, he was not a swimmer. As a final act of defiance, he threw the now-useless automatic at the officer, who ducked easily and approached him, gun drawn. Slowly the erstwhile gunman raised his hands in defeat, his face a picture of chagrin. Two squad cars, sirens blaring, pulled up beside their comrade on the dock and took charge of the prisoner, who made a half-hearted attempt at a struggle. Firemen popped out from hiding from all over the dock. "What was that all about?" Rudy Taylor inquired of the nearest police officer. "The suspect tried to rob a bank in broad daylight. Unfortunately for him, he ran out of gas, left his car and ran down here. Then he ran out of bullets, and finally he ran out of pier. Guess it just wasn't his day." The officer was grinning at the hapless would-be robber. "I'm sure glad you guys were around," Lopez commented. "Hey," Scott Richey, 99's engineer called out, "anybody seen Cap?" A chorus of 'no's and head shakes brought a frown to Captain Jarvey's face. Where the man gone? For that matter, where is 51's Captain Gage? Konnitsky pointed at the edge of the dock. "They were standing right there before the shooting started. You don't suppose..." He ran to the edge of the pier followed by Charlie Dwyer. Looking down, Dwyer and Konnitsky saw Captains Gage and DeSoto bobbing in the water like two helmeted corks. Konnitsky grinned broadly and called out over his shoulder, "They're down here!" The crews of all three stations came at a dead run, afraid of what they would see---the two men been shot? When Roy surfaced, he and John heard a volley of shots from the pier above and the comforting blare of sirens heralding the arrival of the lone officer's backup. Shouts, shots and the sound of a scuffle insured the two firemen that the cops succeeded in capturing their quarry. Gage and DeSoto looked anxiously at each other, their long time association enough to reflect their common concern. Are our men okay? Bobbing side by side in the oily water of the harbor, they looked up and realized that it was a good thirty feet to the top of the pier. What came down must, somehow, go back up. Sodden turnout coats and helmets dragged at the two men and Johnny was struggling to remove his when two faces peered over the edge of the dock above. "Hey, guys, they're down here!" Konnitsky's cry brought a herd of running feet and a line of grinning faces staring down at the pair. Ropes and belts were brought and lowered to fish captains Gage and DeSoto out of the drink amid catcalls and good-natured teasing about 'throwing them back' Faithfully keeping his promise to document the day for J.R., Dave Konnitsky pulled out a pocket camera and snapped Johnny's picture, making sure he wasn't seen doing it. Quick questions and rapid answers reassured Johnny and Roy that no one was injured in the preceding drama. The gunman ran out of ammunition and surrendered following a last-ditch effort to outrun the authorities. The cops made quick work of arresting the guy and stuffing him into a patrol car. Excited chatter buzzed in the background as the firefighters relived and rehashed the exciting and dangerous outcome of this particular fire. Thankfully the fire was out and all that remained was clean-up. Cap Gage noted that Greg Manley was wide awake now. "Didja have to push me like that?" Johnny asked his friend in disgust as they dripped and squished their way back to where Engines 51 and 99 were parked. "No, I probably could have pushed you a different way, but that one seemed pretty good at the time." Roy removed his heavy turnout coat and turned to Johnny. Both of them were acutely aware of the discomfort and stench of their uniforms. "Thanks, partner." Johnny flashed a crooked grin, surprising Roy who was expecting a 'Johnny rant'. His friend's good mood was holding. "Don't mention it," Roy responded. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow night if not before, right? Six-thirty, okay?" "Sure thing, Captain DeSoto," Johnny replied. ******************* "What time are we supposed to be at Station 51 for Johnny's birthday party?" Joe Early asked Dixie as he sipped halfheartedly at the hot coffee in his cup. Something cold and intoxicating would have been more welcome at the moment. Three paramedic squads and four ambulances brought in the victims of a street fight between rival gangs. For a short while the ER was a battle zone. Police officers and hospital security struggled to keep the factions separate and subdued, but weren't always successful. Dixie McCall quickly sent all the nurses out of the ER except for herself and Carol Williams, relying on male orderlies to control the patients. She and Carol and the paramedics assisted Drs. Early and Morton in treating the less-than-cooperative victims. After the ER was back to 'normal' Dixie called back the nurses and set about restoring order to the ER treatment rooms, which were a mess. She smiled briefly. During treatment of one particularly foul-mouthed and recalcitrant patient, Mike Morton commented, "I'll never complain about treating Johnny Gage again. Compared to this guy he's a model patient." I wondered what it would take to make Mike appreciate Johnny's sterling qualities, Dixie thought ...now I know. ******************* "Hey, Probie, what's shakin'," Del Nichols asked as he entered the dayroom at Station 15. J.R. Gage sat on the couch with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He was frowning and his shoulders sagged as if they held the weight of the world. He thoroughly chewed and swallowed his bite of sandwich before washing it down with a drink of milk. "I have a problem, Del, and it's driving me crazy." "Maybe I can help---if you don't mind telling me, that is." J.R. was a very private person---not given to confidences or discussions of his problems. It was that very reticence that nearly cost him his life a couple weeks ago. His reluctance to show weakness in any form kept him from mentioning a food allergy. When he ate that item by mistake and a near-fatal reaction, the whole station spent the next morning in the ICU waiting to see if he would survive. In the first formal counseling of his career Cap Riley chewed J.R. out thoroughly. Riley hated to do it, he told Del later, but withholding that information repercussions for J.R. and his crew mates. The devastated look on J.R.'s face at the formal reprimand prompted Cap to tear up the page before it could be sent to the Probie's file. It was enough that the kid thought it was there. "I have to buy a present for somebody really special," J.R. said. "It has to be just right. She's ...it's gotta show how much I like... I'm clueless, Del. I never to buy birthday presents before. There was never anybody to buy for and no money if there been." "How old is she?...um the person you're buying for?" "She's gonna be seventeen in two days. I've been racking my brain for weeks with no luck." "Is she a cousin, a good friend...girlfriend?" Del felt the ground get shaky when J.R.'s eyes narrowed. He was about to be shut out. "Look, J.R., I can't help unless I have something to go on. A present can pretty much tell a person how you feel about them. You don't want to say the wrong thing by mistake." J.R.'s slumped forward. With a sideways glance at the engineer, he made a decision. "What if," Gage started out faltering, "the person is somebody you like...a lot? What if she already knows, but can't let her parents know?" Del leaned forward, his face inches from J.R.'s. "Gage, it sounds like you're talking about a relationship with a girl who's underage." J.R. nodded miserably. "In that case, my best advice is to drop the relationship---or put it on hold until she's eighteen." "Too late," J.R. shook his head. He glanced at Nichols' widened eyes. "Not what you're thinking! I just mean I'm already hooked on her---I promised we'd see each other, even against her parents' wishes. I know it was a bad promise, but one look at those big violet eyes and I forget about everything but her. What am I gonna do?" "Does anybody else know about this?" Del was perplexed. He liked the kid and wanted to help, but he knew any further advice to 'forget the girl for now' would be instantly rejected. "I think a couple of her friends know," he admitted. "J.R., you're just asking for trouble with this. I hope you don't find it." "Hope the kid doesn't find what?" Kit Crawford walked in snacking on a banana. He was surprised to see Del and J.R. in serious conversation. Getting the kid to talk about anything was like pulling teeth. END OF PART II part III