The Guilt Within By: Mary Cull Johnny entered Station 51 and walked to the locker room. Thankfully he was running late and anticipated the need to change into his uniform at home. He noticed a letter taped to his locker's door. He sighed, removed the letter and slowly sat down to read it. Recognizing the return address, Johnny ripped it open immediately. He eagerly read the letter anticipating the news it would bring. Moisture formed in his eyes as he read the letter. But his eyes couldn't hold the liquid and tears ran down his face. This was the first time in untold years that Johnny cried. Thankfully he was alone for the moment... Paramedic John Gage stopped his white Land Rover in the parking lot at Station 51 and paused before getting out, looking in the rear-view mirror. He frowned as he momentarily examined himself, debating over whether or not he should remove the crisp, white bandage he was sporting on his forehead. It would, no doubt in his mind, fuel a barrage of questions from the crew and he did not feel like answering them about what had happened on his day off. It was dumb. But he knew if he peeled off the bandage they would be able to see the bruise and gash under it anyway, so he decided he might as well leave it on. He glanced quickly down at his watch as he walked across the lot and headed inside the fire station. Good, he thought, early for once. As he made his way into the locker room, he grimaced. Firefighter Chet Kelly and Johnny's long-time partner, Roy DeSoto were both there, changing into their uniforms. That's all he needed. Chet in the morning was a bad enough pill to take as it was, and now the youngest member of Station 51 was certain he would be forced to endure some type of snide Chet-style comments regarding the injury to his forehead. But Roy saw it first. He turned to say good morning to Johnny, the older medic's smile turning into a look of concern as his eyes caught the brilliant, white bandage. "Hey, partner, what happened to your head?" Roy asked, and finished buckling up his belt, as Chet turned around to stare at him, making the dark-haired paramedic feel uneasy. "Another date get out of hand, Gage?" Kelly quipped, smirking as he pulled up his pants. God, he's starting already and I haven't even been here one minute yet!  Johnny made a face at the stocky firefighter as he opened his locker nonchalantly and began to unbutton his shirt to change into his department issued uniform. "No, Chet, I didn't have a date yesterday. Alot you know," Gage replied, his voice thick with obvious irritation. He removed the red shirt he had worn to work and hung it up in his locker. He reached inside the locker and grabbed his white undershirt rather roughly, regretting the move as it caused him some discomfort and made his best attempt to ignore the smirk on his crew mate's face. "Oh, so you did that to yourself? Ha, sounds like another trademark Johnny Gage move," Kelly mocked, laughing slightly while tucking in his shirt and zipping up his trousers. Johnny pulled his t-shirt over his head slowly, stopping as he reached up to pull it down over his upper torso. He was still a little sore. Roy glanced over and saw the look of pain on his partner's face and then reacted with mild shock, noticing the bruises on Gage's chest. "Johnny, look at your arm, your shoulder! How'd you get all those bruises? Are you okay?" Roy inquired. He walked over and grabbed his friend's arm to have a closer look, but Johnny backed away, pulling the t-shirt completely down his chest. He reached into his locker for his light blue fireman's shirt while he decided if he should say anything to these two men about how he had gotten the bruises. "Wow, Gage, so if it wasn't a chick responsible for that, do tell, what did you do?" Chet asked, his curiousity building, his mind trying to come up with insults to lavish the accident prone paramedic with. The dark-haired young man looked at both of them and sighed as he sat down in his locker, buttoning up his shirt. He realized with some distress that he'd be best to just tell them now, knowing full well how relentless they'd be until they found out. Gage sighed again and rubbed a hand across his eyes, groaning a little as his fingers accidentally caught the wounded area on his forehead. "Look, it's really no big deal...I'm fine, honestly...it looks worse than it actually is...," he began, not wanting to say anything more, but the looks on both his friend's faces told him he had better give them the whole story. "Okay, it's kinda like this. My neighbors a couple of houses down the road, Tom and Lisa, they asked me if I would be able to come over and give them a hand moving a sofa into their place. So I said, sure, okay, because Lisa's in her seventh month and, well, obviously she can't do anything strenuous like that. Tom and I ...we got the thing from his truck into the house and had to take it upstairs, they wanted to put it in their bedroom. So, we struggled with it for a while, and then...well, it happened," Johnny explained, and ended momentarily, looking regrettably over at his two friends who were eyeing him expectantly. "Well, what? What happened?" Kelly asked, intrigued, and annoyed that Gage had stopped his story right at a crucial point. Johnny hesitated, breathed in deeply, then carried on. "Their...big...dumb dog, from out of nowhere, comes flying down the stairs as we were almost up there. Tom was at the top and I was at the bottom. Well, the dog just tore through Tom's legs, jumped onto the sofa and poor Tom was just so thrown off by it, he...he let go of his side of it and it fell into me, hit me in the head and shoulder. I couldn't hold onto it and got pushed all the way back down the stairs. That's how I got all the bruises." "Oh, Johnny, that sounds like something that would only happen to you. Like I've always said, Gage you are a disaster magnet. But maybe if you were in better shape, pal, this wouldn't've happened," Chet observed with an evil grin, attempting to get a rise out of Gage. Johnny fell for it, as always, and looked at him with mixed feelings of anger, frustration and hurt. "What?! I'm in great shape, Kelly. That sofa must've weighed 500 pounds, not unlike some of the girls you've dated..." Chet glared at the young paramedic, ready to retort when Roy jumped into the conversation. "Well, Johnny, you have to admit, you could stand to gain a few pounds. And a work-out at the gym probably wouldn't be such a bad idea, either, you know." "Are you telling me, partner, that you agree with Kelly? You really think I'm outta shape?" Johnny asked incredulously. Roy shrugged and turned to face his locker so that Johnny couldn't see the grin forming on his face. "Gage, if  you were one pound lighter, we wouldn't be able to see you from the side. And you're only kidding yourself if you think you're in great shape," Chet stated, trying to remain serious. He was remembering the joke the crew of Station 51 played on him once before where they attempted to make the stocky firefighter think he was losing his eyesight. And their little trick worked...at first, until he, the Phantom, outsmarted them. Kelly recalled how upset he had become, thinking he were losing his eyesight...and possibly his job. If he could only get Gage to believe he was unfit and out of shape...Kelly could only imagine the pranks he could pull while watching an obsessed young paramedic trying to work out at the station in between calls. Roy, in a playful mood, decided he would go along with Chet in teasing his partner. "Yeah, Johnny, don't you know why it is almost always you who Cap sends down the side of buildings, and into small, tight, dark spaces? It's because you're so light. And he knows you would likely have trouble lifting one of us up and that you would probably hurt yourself somehow doing it," Roy replied, locking eyes for a second with Kelly and then glancing at Gage, trying to keep a straight face. Johnny felt his blood seething, and he was quickly becoming more than annoyed. He really thought they were being quite serious with him, and didn't realize that they were only playing around. To him, they had really hit a nerve this time. This time, he felt they were challenging his manhood, as well as his ability to do his very job. Johnny knew as a firefighter he was not only expected to be in good physical strength, he had to be. He was seriously hurt, emotionally. "Wait a minute, guys. Neither of you are in any great shape either, you know," Johnny retorted, defensively, shaking his finger back and forth at them. "Maybe not, but we don't bruise up quite like you, and we don't volunteer to move things that are obviously too heavy for us," Roy said and poked at one of the bruises on the dark- haired paramedic's arm. "Ouch!" Gage winced and backed away. "That sofa was not too heavy! If Tom hadn't've dropped his end..." "Johnny, as Dr. Morton once told you, it's no shame to be soft and skinny," Chet replied, taking their conversation further, noticing the rise he was getting from the paramedic. "And accident prone," he added, smiling, his thick mustache twitching. "I'll tell you like I told Morton at the time, I am not SOFT!" Johnny was almost yelling. He turned to Roy, anger in his eyes, voicing a silent question, did you tell him what Morton said that night I hurt my shoulder in that apartment fire? Roy's blue eyes met Gage's deep brown ones and the fair-haired medic shrugged, guiltily turning around into his locker, pretending to put the finishing touches on his uniform, but he was already fully dressed. Chet laughed at the younger paramedic's comment. This was terrific, the Phantom could not remember getting his nemesis this riled up for quite some time. He carried on, his green eyes full of mischief. "Gage, I've seen marshmallows tougher than you, and I'm sure some of the girls you date are probably stronger than you are. Like Roy said, pal, I think it would be a good idea for you to commit yourself to the gym. Who knows? You might have to do something that really requires strength and muscle, such as rescue one of us, should we become injured, and frankly that would worry me because you are the softest, least tough guy I know." At that remark, Roy walked over and nudged Chet. He could see how mad Johnny was getting and was starting to think that this line of joking was not appropriate after all. He had only wanted to tease his younger partner, not totally hurt him. Kelly opened his mouth, about to say more, but stopped as he saw the look on Johnny's face and realized he had gone too far this time. The firefighter and older paramedic then turned and walked out of the locker room, daring not to say any more, and leaving Gage to stare after them, his eyes filled with anger and shame. "I'll show you just how tough I am!" he yelled out to them, but they merely shrugged it off, angering Johnny even more. Gage finished dressing solemnly and sat down in his locker. He really wanted a cup of coffee, but did not feel like going to the kitchen to sit with the others. His mind was brewing with the conversation he'd just had with Chet and Roy and he contemplated for a moment about his muscular structure. 'Soft. Least tough. Skinny. Accident prone. In need of a gym.'  The words spoken by his crew mates ripped through him like a jagged knife. They might as well have said he was frail and gutless. Johnny became exceedingly depressed as he began to wonder about his abilities to operate as a firefighter. How could they have said those things to him? Even if they were teasing and joking around, they had to have known their words would upset him. Johnny knew full well he was thin with an average frame size and secretly this sometimes did bother him. And this was not Chet's usual way to insult him. The Phantom had never mentally hurt him before. Perhaps what they were saying about him being out of shape was their way of saying he was somehow making them nervous to work with him. Perhaps they really were worrying he would not be much help to them, should the unthinkable happen, they were injured and all they had to rely on was "Soft Johnny." Gage didn't realize he was looking down at the floor, lost in thought. Roy had sided with Chet, which was very un-Roy like. Did his partner and best friend truly think he was soft and out of shape? What would happen if they were involved in a rescue requiring brute strength? Would DeSoto trust him enough to do the work? If Roy thinks I can't cut it, maybe he's right! But why hasn't he said anything to me until now? Does he honestly think I am some kind of a weak coward or something? Maybe I'll just have to prove to them and myself that I am not the soft, out-of-shape guy they seem to think I am. The overly sensitive paramedic's thoughts turned to insecurity, doubts and misgivings, which were so unlike him. He had never doubted his ability to do his job with the utmost of care and professionalism until now. Depressed, his self esteem shattered, he vowed he would prove his strength and bravery at all cost. Yep, the Johnny they thought they knew is now being replaced with the rougher, more risk taking, aggressively compulsive Johnny. Suddenly smiling to himself, the quick to forgive young man strutted out of the locker room and walked towards the kitchen, prepared to tackle anyone, should the necessity arise. Gage did not, however, make it to the kitchen. The loud tones of the klaxon sounded, disturbing his thoughts of self-pity, and sending him into full paramedic mode. "Station 36, Engine 127, Station 51, Battalion 14, warehouse fire. 2736 Industrial Ave, 2-7-3-6 Industrial Ave. Cross Street Sheppard. Time out 08:02." Almost instantly, the crew of Station 51 were in their respective emergency vehicles, roaring towards the incident, lights and sirens blaring. As he sat quietly in the squad on their way to the fire, in the back of his mind, Johnny wondered, almost in desperation, if he would be able to do something more during this call in an attempt to impress his crew mates. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The large, three floor warehouse had flames shooting out of some of its windows and a thick, black haze of smoke was erupting from the roof on the east side. Johnny and Roy jumped from the squad and were putting on their tanks and air masks as Captain Hank Stanley ran up to them. They were the first of the fire stations called to arrive on the scene and that meant that Captain Stanley was the senior fire officer, and in charge of the situation. For a moment he surveyed and assessed the scene, realizing how bad it was going to be. Although there were a few bystanders watching from the other side of the street, he, as yet, did not see anyone who might be associated to the warehouse outside and wondered about how many people may be trapped or injured inside the burning building. Cap's attention was diverted from the warehouse momentarily as one of the people watching the scene crossed the street and ran over to them. "Hey, I called in and reported the fire. I work over there, across the street, cleaning that office building. I happened to look out the window and saw smoke and flames shooting out of the warehouse," the young man replied, breathlessly. "Do you know if there are any people in there, son?" Hank asked. "I don't know. I'm new working across the street and this is the first Sunday I've been here. But there are some cars, and I thought I saw a few people go in earlier." "Gage, DeSoto, do a search of the building for any victims. It's Sunday and the place seems deserted, but there are a few cars out there in the parking lot, so I don't know how many people, if any, are in there. Start in the basement. I'll try to find someone who may know what's going on. Take the HT with you and I'll give you a call when I know what the story is. I'll have Chet and Marco start extinguishing the fire near the entrance way. When they get here, I'll have 36's and 127's men cover the rest." "Right, Cap," Roy replied and he and Johnny trotted quickly to the doorway of the warehouse. They could hear Cap shouting orders in the background to the rest of the crew as they attempted to open the heavy steel doors. As they'd suspected, they were locked. Johnny ran back, relaying that to Cap who ordered Firefighter Marco Lopez to break open the doors using the K12. After a few minutes, Marco had sawed through and the medics entered stealthily inside, making their way down to the basement, covering every room and checking all areas along their way. The smoke was so dense and thick it made seeing more than a few feet ahead impossible. As they reached the far east side, where the fire was the worst, both paramedics realized they could hear almost nothing except for the loud crackling of the flames and the banging of pieces of the building falling down around them. There were many small rooms in the basement and as they entered each one, they were somewhat relieved to find them all empty. They realized that the basement was the location of the manager's offices and that this warehouse was used for manufacturing novelties. The paramedics were yelling for victims at the top of their voices, but could barely hear themselves over the air masks and sounds of the building losing its battle to stay intact with the destructive heat of the fire. Both men felt the sweat now covering their bodies and struggled to see, the flames of the blaze and a small flashlight being their only light sources. Walking along the corridor towards the next office, ducking as a piece of the ceiling gave way narrowly missing them, suddenly Roy grabbed Johnny's arm, yelling as he spoke, not sure whether his partner could even hear him. "I think we should go back! I don't think anyone is even down here. I can't see anyone being alive past this point! The place is starting to crumble! C'mon!" Surprisingly, Johnny heard most of what DeSoto said, but was unwilling to abandon the search. The younger paramedic moved forward. Roy tightened his grip on Gage's arm. Outside, Captain Stanley was watching the men intently as they worked feverishly on trying to distinguish the fire. By now the other stations had arrived and all of them were desperately trying to control this blaze. He had not heard anything from his paramedics regarding any people that may be trapped inside the structure. But the flames were now so high and the heat so intense, Hank knew it would be hours before this fire would be put out. And the victims... Cap was momentarily interrupted in his thoughts by a young Los Angeles police officer, who walked up to him, pulling a handcuffed, rather gruffy looking man, along side of him. The arrested man glared at him and Hank could see he was covered in soot. "Are you the Captain?" the cop asked, and received a nod for an answer. "Look, I just arrested this guy a couple of minutes ago. He was hiding out by the building, watching everything and admitted setting the fires all throughout the warehouse. Told me he used to work here and they fired him last week. And I think if any of your men are still in there you should get them out right away because he also told me he's planted a bomb in there that's set to go off in a couple of minutes! Good thing it's Sunday and the warehouse is abandoned, or we'd have a major catastrophe on our hands!" Cap looked blankly at the cop and the prisoner, remembering his two paramedics were deep inside the building, conducting a search of the basement. Alarmed, he ran to the entrance way, shouting at Chet and Marco, who had their hose trained on the reception area of the building, to move out. Cap then pulled out his handy talkie. "HT 51, this is Captain Stanley. I want you to come out now. Do you copy? Come out now!" he replied, anxiety evident in his voice. Then, with a speed he did not know he could muster, Hank ran straight around the building to the captains of Station 36 and Engine 127, who ordered their men out when Captain Stanley told them about the reported bomb inside. Cap stood back with his crew, his heart pounding with worry, and watched the warehouse entrance, impatiently waiting for his paramedics to make their way out of the building and potentially life threatening situation. Inside the structure, Roy was arguing with Johnny about leaving. They had both heard Cap's orders to exit the warehouse, but Johnny stubbornly refused, wanting to stay and finish the search. The dark-haired paramedic desperately wanted to find victims he could help out of the building, hopefully by lifting them up and thus exhibiting the fact he was not out-of-shape. If nothing more, he wanted to go just a bit further, to show his crewmates he was anything but soft. He had something to prove. "Roy, go, will ya? I'll just run down there and finish and meet you outside in a couple minutes," Gage shouted above the extreme roar of the fire. "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving without you! C'mon!" Johnny broke away from Roy's steely grip and began walking into the flames, deeper into the warehouse. Roy paused, then started to go after him, but didn't make it. The thunderous sound of the explosion deafening him was the last thing he heard as the ceiling obliterated above him, he fell, and then everything went black. The force of the explosion threw Johnny into the burning wall and he fell heavily to the ground, momentarily stunned. For several long, agonizing seconds, he lay still, fear filling his senses. As he opened his eyes, he realized his arm was on fire and hurriedly smothered out the flames. Carefully, he rose to a sitting position, looking back for Roy, a sudden, overpowering terror enveloping him when all he saw was a huge mound of debris, crackling and smoldering. Not caring about any injuries he may have sustained, Johnny stood up with trepidation and ran to where he'd last seen Roy. Peering down at the scattered remains of the explosion, Gage noticed part of an arm lying outside the mound. His heart skipped a beat when he realized his partner was buried under the cement and wood and metal that had been the ceiling only moments before. Ignoring his own pain, Gage began to tear away at the rubble covering his partner. "Roy! Roy! Can you hear me? Roy?" the young paramedic shouted, panic-stricken, his heart in his throat, as he dug in a frenzy to uncover his friend. Once he had removed a good portion of the debris, Gage could see that the older man was lying face down, so still, not moving. DeSoto's eyes were closed. Johnny prayed silently, hoping that Roy was only unconscious, and not fatally injured, as he continued to work feverishly to dig him out. Gage looked down and saw the handy talkie that Roy had been holding before the explosion. He knew he needed help and in desperation yelled into the device. "Cap, this is Johnny! We're trapped in the basement, about 150 feet from the staircase. There was an explosion and Roy's buried under the debris! I need help down here on the double!" "Hang on, pal, we're workin' on it," he heard Captain Stanley acknowledge. The dark-haired paramedic lifted off more heavy pieces of plaster and wood that were laying on Roy's back. The extra energy he was spending doing this caused him to use up his oxygen supply quickly and hearing his regulator alarm, he realized with chagrin that he had only a couple of minutes of air left in his tank. When he had removed all of the debris off his partner's back, Johnny checked Roy's air supply, somewhat relieved to see that he still had over fifteen minutes left. Johnny's breathing was becoming labored and he began to gasp for air, quickly pulling off his air mask to breathe in the potentially dangerous fumes that were around them. His throat burned almost immediately and his eyes watered, but he ignored it to check Roy over. Quickly, he grabbed the older paramedic's wrist, feeling for a pulse, silently thanking God when he found one. He did not move him for fear he had suffered back injuries, but adjusted his air mask to make sure he was getting enough oxygen. Johnny glanced down over his partner as he started to move slightly, moaning in pain. Gage was coughing almost non-stop by now and he was growing increasingly worried and impatient for help to come. His chest burned and ached with every labored breath he took, but he was much more concerned about DeSoto's condition than with himself. "Easy, Roy, easy," Johnny sputtered out, noticing DeSoto coming to and placing his hand comfortingly on Roy's arm. "Oh, my leg!" the older man cried out and Gage's heart ached when he saw the agonized look of pain on his best friend's face. Johnny looked down at some rubble that was still covering Roy's legs and quickly, with much effort, pulled it off him, but his heart skipped yet another beat when he saw a huge, heavy beam laying across the bottom of Roy's left leg, crushing it. Instantly, Gage tried to lift it off, but it was too much for him. Terrified, angry and frustrated, knowing it was all his fault that Roy had gotten hurt and they were in this mess, he reached frantically for the handy talkie. "Engine 51, HT 51. I need help NOW!" Johnny screamed into the microphone, as best he could, his voice now hoarse from smoke inhalation, as the intense heat and flames echoed loudly around them, moving menacingly closer towards them. "HT 51, this is Captain Stanley. There's a complete wall down in the basement about twenty yards from your location! Part of the first floor has collapsed. They're working on it as fast as they can, hold on, they should be there soon!" Hank promised, feeling deep concern as he imagined his two paramedics trapped and injured. Soon was not good enough. Johnny took one last look at the pain etched on Roy's face, knowing he had caused it, and coughing violently used every ounce of strength he possessed to try to move the beam off Roy's leg. He was both surprised and amazed when he managed to lift the massive piece of debris up and off DeSoto's injured limb, as the flames continued to move closer to them, anihilating what was left of the walls, floor and ceiling. "There, I got it off! Are you okay now? Is the pain subsided?" Gage muttered, panting excessively, his lungs aching and burning. Roy turned his head up to look at Johnny and attempted to get up, disbelief now written on his face that his young friend had been able to lift that beam off his leg by himself. "Don't move! Stay still, let me do all the work!" Gage cried out. Johnny went in behind him, holding him up by the shoulders, realizing with some relief that DeSoto had movement. Johnny squatted down on the floor and supported him, allowing Roy to lean his back against Johnny's heaving chest. The older medic was now able to see Gage was having trouble breathing and pulled off his air mask, handing it to him. Johnny took one deep breath from it, then decided to give it back to his partner, whom he believed to be much worse off then he was. "You...need it...more," Johnny wheezed out, so worried about Roy that he completely ignored the risks to his own health. Inside however, Gage felt terrible and that he did not deserve to take all of Roy's desperately needed air supply when his behaving like a jerk, ignoring their captain's orders to vacate the building, had caused Roy to be hurt. The guilt of what happened was beginning to overwhelm the young paramedic. It's all my fault! Roy could be fatally injured and it's all my fault! He looked away from Roy, fighting the lump that had formed in his throat. "No, we can share it. Johnny, please, the smoke in here is bad..." "No, I'm...fine!" Gage insisted, with a dejected tone, and forced the mask back on Roy's face, just as Chet, Marco and two men from Station 36 broke through the debris at last and bounded over to them. "Hey, you two okay?" Chet Kelly asked worriedly. He noticed Johnny without his air mask, coughing violently and quickly handed him his own mask, but the paramedic shook his head. "Got...to get...Roy outta here! Don't worry...about me." "Look, we all have to get out, this whole side of the building is about to collapse any minute!" Firefighter Marco Lopez explained. "Just...get Roy! Watch...his left...leg, it's...really badly...injured!" Gage instructed, coughing and rising unsteadily to his feet. Chet and Marco hurriedly lifted Roy up, carrying him, as Johnny followed, with the two men of Station 36 attempting to help him. He shook his head no, unable to speak and nearly choking on the smoke, as the six of them began to make their way out of the warehouse. It was slow going due to all of the smoke and debris lying around, and just as they trudged forward, more of the ceiling caved in behind them. "C'mon, hurry!" Chet yelled nervously and they quickened their pace, glancing back for only a moment to see a cloud of cement and dust where they had stood only a few short seconds before. As soon as they exited the building, Johnny let out a moan and collapsed to his knees, unable to breathe. 36's paramedics rushed over to them, and helped Johnny to walk the rest of the way to safety. Immediately, Gage shook his head again, not wanting their help. "Go check Roy. I'm okay now," he insisted as paramedic Russ Thornton laid him back on the grass, and began to check his vital signs. "Look, Johnny, Dave is with him. You've suffered some bad smoke inhalation. Here," Russ replied, putting an oxygen mask over Gage's face. The young paramedic made an attempt to argue, but the pain and fatigue was overpowering him now, weakening his senses and forcing his weary eyes to close. For a moment, he fought to remain awake, but it was futile. Johnny found himself succumbing to the wave of drowsiness that surrounded him, and seconds later he was gone. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* His mind foggy, Johnny came to with a start, not knowing where he was. He could hear voices around him, and felt a hand on his stomach. He became aware of intense pain in his chest and throat as he slowly opened his eyes and looked around. "Hey there, welcome back. How do you feel, Johnny?" Dr. Kel Brackett asked him in a soothing voice. It took Johnny's brain several seconds to process the information. He now knew he was at Rampart Hospital, but did not know how he got there. Then it all came flooding back to him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. The fire. Explosion. Air gone. Roy. Roy! Instantly, a panicked expression came over his face and he sat up in a flash, worried half to death about his partner and breaking into yet another violent coughing spell. "Easy, Johnny, lay back down," Dr. Brackett replied, pushing him gently back on the examining table, after his coughing subsided. The young paramedic had trouble finding his voice. "Roy?" he managed to wheeze out, fear for his partner ripping through his senses. "Roy's going to be fine. He's gone for X-rays so we'll know the full extent of his injuries soon. Don't worry. He told us all about how you managed to lift a four hundred pound cement beam off his leg. Don't know how you did it Johnny, suffering from smoke inhalation and all. Truly amazing. But hey, relax, you're gonna be fine, too," Dr. Brackett assured him. Johnny barely heard the doctor and made another attempt to sit up, but was again pushed back down by nurse Dixie McCall. He reached up and pulled the oxygen mask off his face. "Now if you don't lie back down and relax, I'm gonna have to put you in restraints," Dixie replied, semi-seriously, and readjusted the air mask back over the paramedic's mouth and nose. "Roy...it's my fault...need to see him," Gage sputtered out, his lungs and throat still hurting. "What are you talking about, Johnny? Roy's gonna be okay. Kel just told you...," Dixie started, but was cut off by an overly anxious paramedic. "My fault he got hurt." "What? No, it isn't, Johnny. He's amazed that you saved him," Dixie said, startled, trying to soothe the upset and still seemingly disoriented young man. "Want to leave - now!" Gage shouted suddenly, the best he could with his hoarse voice. This time however, not only did he rise to a sitting position, he jumped right off the examining table, much to Dr. Brackett and Dixie's surprise. But before either of them could stop him, he had ripped out his IV, threw the oxygen mask down, and was walking stealthily towards the door, all the while coughing with distress. "Johnny!" Kel yelled and took off in pursuit, nabbing him in the hallway just as Roy was being brought back from X-ray. Johnny's eyes were watery and he could not stop coughing, but he walked over to Roy and placed a hand on his shoulder, standing close to the fair-haired medic's gurney. Roy looked at his partner, speechless. He had been told Gage had lost consciousness and was suffering from severe smoke inhalation and had not expected to see him run out into the hall like this. Gage looked down for a moment, not even noticing the blood splurting out of his arm where the IV had been. Then he locked eyes with Roy and the guilt and sadness overcame him again. "I'm so sorry, Roy," he began, wanting to say more, but becoming too distraught to continue. The older paramedic looked at him, quizzically. "What? Why?" DeSoto asked, bewildered. "You saved my life." "It's all my...fault...you got hurt. I behaved...like a total jerk...back there," Johnny turned away as the coughing continued, the burning sensation in his chest and throat getting worse. Dr. Brackett interrupted then, grabbing the young paramedic's arm, forcing him back to Exam Room 2. "This is going to have to wait until he's a little more stable. Sorry, guys." A couple of hours later, Johnny felt quite a bit better, but the guilt gnawed away at him, consuming him, depressing him, angering him. He was being forced to spend the night at Rampart to ensure there were no complications in his lungs, but Johnny didn't care as he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had not heard anything more about how Roy was and had not been able to see him. Finally, with deep frustration, he pushed the call button on his room alarm. He was glad to see it was Dixie who answered his page. "Johnny, what is it?" she asked, walking in to his room, standing beside him, and checking his oxygen supply to the nasal cannula he was now sporting. "Dix, please, tell me about Roy. When can I see him? How bad is he?" Gage pleaded, his voice still not fully cooperative. He stared up at her, his brown eyes seeming even darker than usual, distress etched rampantly on his features. Dixie looked at him warmly, smiling, and sat down on his bed next to him. She was only too aware how close her two favorite paramedics were and understood how worried Johnny must be. She rested her hand on his arm, soothingly. "Roy's okay, Johnny. Really. He's lucky you were there to help him...," the nurse began, but the distraught paramedic interrupted her, anger in his voice. "You don't get it, Dix. You just don't get it! I caused Roy to get hurt!!" Dixie looked into Gage's troubled brown eyes and frowned. No, she didn't get it. "Johnny, you're right, I don't understand. The way it was explained to me is that you managed to get to Roy and dig him out of several hundred pounds of debris, and then single handedly lifted a four hundred pound beam off his leg. It's because of you Roy is still alive..." "No! It's because of me Roy is hurt!" Johnny yelled, louder than he'd wanted. He saw the look of shock in the nurse's pretty blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Dix. This is the real story. I was stupid. Cap ordered us out of the building, but the guys had teased me at the start of the shift. I didn't listen to Cap or Roy. I wouldn't leave. I kept going deeper into the warehouse, and then the explosion occurred, and Roy got trapped. It is all my fault! Don't you see? It's only by the grace of God, that Roy wasn't killed instantly back there. It's all...my fault," the saddened medic ended, looking down, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. Dixie noticed how despondent the young man was and held his hand, patting it. "Well, now, how 'bout I take you over to see him?" she offered and watched as his head snapped up. Johnny was about to shake his head yes, then stopped, a new thought forming in his tortured mind. He hesitated, dark brown eyes still moist. "Um, Dixie, is...is Joanne there, by any chance?" Gage asked, guilt consuming him all over again, causing him to feel even more despicable. He couldn't yet stand to face Joanne, the woman he considered a sister and whom he'd nearly made a widow.  He just didn't know what to say, or how to tell her how sorry he was.  He wasn't sure if he could even look her in the eyes. Oh God, and the kids...oh God!! Dixie glanced at her watch. "No, she left a few minutes ago to pick the kids up from school. C'mon, Johnny, I know Roy is worried about you, too, and wants to see how you are." She rose then, and went in search of a wheelchair, returning momentarily with one in tow. Johnny was about to decline the wheelchair, but thinking about it, decided he had better do it her way. He didn't want to get the good nurse's Irish temper flaring. Roy's room was only two doors down from Johnny's, the hospital so busy that they were both given private rooms. As they entered, DeSoto looked up wearily, and smiled weakly. Gage's heart sank at the obvious look of pain etched on his partner's face. "Roy, how ya doin', man?" the younger medic asked quietly, fighting to keep his emotions at bay, looking at the cast on his best friend's lower left leg. "Been better," Roy admitted. "How about you?" "Never mind me. Really, how are you?" Gage inquired, and Roy knew he was asking about his injuries. Dixie realized this was a private moment and quietly left the two paramedics to be alone. Roy looked at Johnny, surprised by what he saw on the younger man's face. "Well, I have a broken left fibula and ankle, which could've been much worse if you hadn't've become Superman back there and gotten that cement beam off it so quickly. I got a couple cracked ribs, a mild concussion and a bruised kidney Alot of back and neck pain, and my shoulder was dislocated. So, I'm gonna be here for a little while, to re-coup. I kept asking everyone how you were, but they wouldn't tell me much," Roy replied, pushing his head down into the comfort of his pillow. "Not much to tell. Smoke inhalation. I'm spending the night, unfortunately, as well as unnecessarily. But enough about me. How do you feel, Roy?" "Grateful to be alive. Grateful I have such a Hercules for a partner. You sure amazed me back there, Johnny. But the one who should be sorry is me, partner. I made some terrible comments this morning about you being out-of-shape and weak and I was totally out of line, even if I was kidding around with Kelly, it was wrong of me." "Soft," Johnny said quietly, staring downwards, not looking at Roy, scratching at an imaginery spot on his left thumbnail. "What?" "You said I was soft. Not weak." "Oh. But I am, sorry you know. Chet is pretty much eating his words too. He said he saw the beam you singlehandedly moved off my leg and said it weighed at least four hundred pounds. He was in shock when I told him you not only moved it, but hoisted it up off me. He's been going around telling everyone what you did." DeSoto was surprised Johnny did not smile at the compliment. He merely kept his head drooped down, not speaking for several seconds, still feeling deep pangs of guilt. Never in his career had he completely ignored his captain's orders and because he had, the man he considered a brother, was hurt and lying in a hospital bed. Gage's remorse was eating away at him. "Hey, Johnny, what's wrong?" Roy replied, breaking the silence and seeing his best friend looking so glum. Johnny looked at Roy with a mixed expression of sadness and self-loathing. Roy was surprised by his partner's attitude and did not understand why he felt the way he did. Gage realized the older man actually believed he had saved him. But how could he, the dark-haired paramedic mused, when he was to blame for Roy getting hurt in the first place? "I...I could've...killed you," Johnny solemnly replied, having difficulty getting the words out. I could have killed my best friend! Roy made a face of disbelief. "What? Are you kidding me? What you did for me not only saved my leg, but also saved my life." Gage shook his head dejectedly. "I wouldn't listen when Cap ordered us out of the building. I wouldn't even listen to you. I knew it was too dangerous to be in there at that point, but I was upset that you and Chet had ribbed me about being soft and frail. I didn't know...didn't know that there was going to be an explosion. I just wanted to...I needed to prove I wasn't...you know, it was stupid of me, it was completely my fault that you are hurt and in here, and...I'm just so glad that you're all right, Roy." Roy looked at Johnny trying to figure out how he could possibly blame himself for what happened. "Johnny, those few seconds didn't make a difference. In fact, we would have most likely both been killed if we had left right when Cap ordered us to, because of that area damaged from the explosion a ways down the hall from us. Remember it took Kelly and Marco and 36's men like twenty minutes to dig through it to get to us?" "Remember? How could I forget? How can I ever forget what I did? Those twenty minutes seemed like twenty hours to me. But Roy, you can say whatever you like and I appreciate it, but it's just not helping. I almost killed you, despite what you say and think and I can never forgive myself for that. It's all my fault you got hurt so bad and I'm so sorry." With that said, the dark-haired paramedic whispered 'good bye' with what little voice he had left and turned his wheelchair away, exiting Roy's room, his heart aching over how stupid he'd been. Roy stared after him, his jaw dropping. He had never seen his partner consumed by that much despair and anguish and he hoped a good night's sleep would have Johnny back to his old self by morning. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The night was a long one, however, for Johnny. He barely slept, the guilt still gnawing away at him, torturing him. His thoughts were consumed by what if's and why he had been stupid enough to allow Chet and Roy's teasing to get to him. Just a dumb jerk. Too self absorbed to realize they were only kidding around. I should have known they never meant to cause anything. All my fault Roy is hurt. Big, dumb ego. What was I thinking? Look where wanting to be a hero got me. I could have killed my best friend... Johnny tossed and turned, miserably, that one phrase going through his head repeatedly, inflicting him with severe mental anguish most of the night. I could have killed my best friend. In the morning, Dr. Brackett entered Johnny's room. He smiled at the young man, until he saw the dark circles under Gage's eyes and the look of indifference on his face. The sparkle was gone from his eyes and he looked like he had gone through some kind of hell. Kel pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Johnny's lungs while the paramedic stared straight ahead, seemingly unconcerned. "Well, Johnny, your lungs sound a lot better this morning. I think we can release you from the hospital today. Unless you still don't feel right?" Kel asked, his eyebrow raised, staring down at his young patient. Gage merely shrugged, frowning, making Dr. Brackett think about his decision to release him. He was surprised by Johnny's attitude. Out of all the times the paramedic had been injured, Kel had always known Gage to get excited upon learning he was being released from the hospital. Maybe this time, there was something wrong with Johnny that they had missed. Maybe they should keep him in the hospital, run more tests just to be sure he was really all right. "Johnny, if you're not feeling right, I'm going to cancel those release orders and keep you here another day. But you have to let me know what is wrong," Dr. Brackett replied, studying his patient, while he placed a hand on his stomach and counted respirations. Johnny looked up at him, finally, and shook his head. "No, Doc, I'm fine. I do want to get out of here. Please don't make me stay another day."  Dr. Brackett frowned at the tone of sadness in the paramedic's voice. They were interrupted just then, as Gage finished speaking, by a nurse who suddenly burst into the room. "Dr. Brackett, you're needed in room 217, right away," she said, breathlessly, and rushed out as quickly as she had entered. Instantly, a deep look of concern crossed over Johnny's face and his eyes widened in fear as Kel hurriedly turned to leave. "Hey, Doc, that's Roy's room!! What's going on? That's Roy's room!" he shouted. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach. "I don't know, Johnny, but you just rest here and I'll go see," the doctor replied and stealthily left the dark-haired medic's room. Johnny stared after him, worried half to death. He started to get out of bed, but his heart was beating crazily and the nausea overwhelmed him. He grabbed the bin on the stand next to his bed, and heaving violently, emptied what little contents he had in his stomach. This can't be happening! What is wrong with Roy? I have to get out of here! E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The minutes were ticking by and Johnny could not stand it. He rose from the bed, grabbed his hospital provided robe and hurriedly walked out of his room, the taste of bile still strong in his throat. He had to go to Roy, had to know what was happening. He was nearly sick again thinking about it, and for a moment, he stopped in his tracks, willing the nausea to go away. He stood bent over, arm against the wall, head down as he attempted to get himself together. He felt a hand on his shoulder, just then, and looking down, saw that it belonged to Dixie. She grabbed his arm and turned him around, walking with him towards his room. "Come with me, you are going back to bed for awhile," she said in a tone not meant to be argued with. Johnny froze. He could not bear to leave without seeing his best friend. He turned slightly, trying to make it back to Roy's room, but Dixie held tight. "Don't make me call security," she whispered, and finally Gage gave in and allowed her to walk him the rest of the way back to his room. She pointed a finger at the bed, and silently Johnny got in it, but his eyes flashed with anger. "Dixie, look, I can't just lie here while Roy's in some kind of trouble! I need to see him!" the young paramedic shouted, then regretted it as he broke into a fit of coughing. "Now see, you've gone and irritated your throat and lungs again," she chastised him. "If you don't do as you're told, Dr. Brackett is not going to let you leave here." "Dixie, I don't care about that! What is wrong with Roy? Please tell me!" he begged in between coughs. The head nurse of the emergency department sat down with him on the bed. She saw the fearful look, the visibly paled face on the paramedic and did not want to upset him even more by telling him about Roy, but she knew he would find out sooner or later anyway. She closed her eyes, debating what to do, and Gage's heart skipped a beat. He brought a hand up to his forehead, stunned by his thoughts and instant, overwhelming grief. "No!" he yelled, assuming the worst. He started to pull the blankets away, frantic to get up, but Dixie held him back. "It's not that...look...he had a seizure. We're not really sure why it happened, but Dr. Early is going over some tests with Dr. Brackett. He's stabilized now, but he lapsed into unconsciousness. Dr. Early suspects his concussion is more serious than they first thought...," the nurse stated sadly. "What? He was fine last night! We were talking...I can't believe it!' Johnny cried out, feeling even more guilty than he had before. He looked at Dixie who was staring at the floor and knew she was not telling him everything. He eyed her curiously. "Dix, what else? You're keeping something from me," he whispered, trying to speak over the lump that was forming once again in his throat. The pretty nurse looked at him and Johnny saw the seriousness of the situation written all over her face. His heart sunk. "They suspect...subdural hematoma...and he might require a very risky surgery to repair it," she replied. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny reached for two more beers and handed one to Roy, smiling. It was a beautiful day and they were sitting on Roy's deck watching his two children, Chris and Jennifer playing in the yard. It was a perfect day and the two men joked amicably. The dark-haired paramedic took a swig from his bottle and laughed as he saw little Jennifer tackle her big brother. The next instant, he heard a loud thump and in horror looked over at Roy who had fallen out of his chair and was lying face down on the ground. He turned him over and his heart skipped a beat when he saw that Roy's face had become blue. "Oh, my God!" Gage cried out, as the children, and Roy's wife, Joanne, suddenly appeared with him on the deck. Jennifer and Chris began to weep loudly, as did Joanne. Johnny felt the familiar lump growing in his throat and his brown eyes were moist. Joanne stared at him suddenly, fury in her eyes. 'You...you KILLED him! You killed my husband!' she screamed at Johnny viciously, and slapped his face. The two kids began to hit him. Johnny felt tremendous pangs of guilt and closed his eyes, the sting of Joanne's slap still burning his face. 'I didn't mean to...I'm sorry! I'm so sorry...it was all my fault!' the paramedic whispered. "It was all my fault, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it!" Johnny cried out, tossing and turning, evidently still involved in his nightmare. He felt an arm shaking him gently and stirred, opening his eyes, which were full of unshed tears. "Johnny, it's okay, you're okay," he heard a man's voice whisper. Instantly, he jumped, the memory of his very realistic dream still etched in his vision. "Roy!" Gage cried out, wiping his eyes, and realized it was Dr. Joe Early standing beside him. Then the events came back to him and he remembered he had been given a sedative, having become much too distressed at the news of Roy's turn for the worst. He didn't know it, but he had slept the morning away. "Johnny, just calm down. Everything is okay," Dr. Early replied in a soothing voice. Gage stared at him, his face pale. He was sweating and still shaking slightly. Dr. Early rubbed his shoulder and smiled kindly down at him. "How is Roy?" the young patient asked, feeling his heartbeat finally slowing down. "He's stable, Johnny. He's conscious and he's worried about you." Gage's jaw dropped in disbelief. "He's worried about me? Look, Doc, I have to get outta here. I want to see Roy. Now," he demanded and rose up from the bed.  "Okay, Johnny. I'll take you to see him. Just calm down, you're not going to do either of you any good in the state of mind you're in," Dr. Early advised. "Doc, what about the head injury. What are you doing about it? Does he need the surgery?" Johnny asked as he pulled on a robe and tied the belt. Dr. Early turned to get the wheelchair he had brought in with him, and was parked beside the bed, but Gage shook his head. "Doc, I'm not an invalid. Dr. Brackett told me I could leave here this morning when he came in before...before all this happened...look, I can walk. And I am leaving here just as soon as I see how Roy is," the paramedic replied huskily. "Johnny, you're right, he did say you could leave. But that was this morning. We both think you could use another day in here to re-coup, but if you don't want to stay, we can't force you," the doctor replied. He knew Johnny was all right physically, but his mental state worried the staff at Rampart. "Doc, Roy, tell me about Roy," Gage insisted as they walked out of his room towards his partner's. "Well, it seems it's not what we suspected earlier, thank God, it's not a subdural hematoma, but a moderate concussion. Still, you know how head injuries can be, so unpredictable, so many symptoms. We are monitoring him, he's been given all the proper meds and we're expecting him to fully recover in a few days. But right now, he does have alot of dizziness and a bad headache. He hasn't had a second seizure. We believe he will be all right." They were now stopped at the door to Roy's room, and the doctor's use of the word 'believe' did not get past the shaken paramedic. Dr. Early gave him a pat on the back and watched as Johnny took a deep breath, and he entered. Joe did not go into the room with him, knowing the two would want time alone. Inside, Gage attempted to smile, but Roy looked up and saw that the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. He put the magazine he was reading down and looked at Johnny, worried about his mental state. Roy knew about his head injury being worse than what was first diagnosed and he also knew that his younger partner had become extremely distressed at the knowledge of it. DeSoto was also well aware that Johnny was still intent on blaming himself for his injuries. Johnny looked at Roy as though he were fragile and might break. He stood next to the bed staring at Roy, wondering what else his lack of judgment and stupidity might put the older man through. They locked eyes momentarily, but Johnny looked away quickly, full of guilt, and contempt for himself. "You...you scared me half to death," Gage whispered in a husky voice, sure that Roy must hate him by now. "Hey, everything is under control, Junior. They know what they're doing here. I'm going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Trust me," DeSoto said and grinned up at Johnny. But Johnny did not meet his grin. He turned away, closed his eyes, trying to not let the tears fall. He cleared his scratchy throat and finally looked at Roy. "I'm getting out of here now. Is there anything I can bring you? Anything, just name it...," Johnny started, but DeSoto shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't need anything. And when you leave here, I want you to go home and relax and quit worrying. I'm going to be fine," Roy insisted. Johnny would not listen. It didn't matter anymore that he knew Roy would be all right. He had caused injury and pain to his best friend. It was all his fault. Nothing was going to be fine, ever again. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny sat on the sofa in the living room of his house and mentally beat himself up. The television was on, but he was so deep in thought that he wasn't listening or watching it. He was glad to be home and out of the hospital and had left, despite Dr. Brackett's gentle insistance that he stay another day. Gage put up an argument and promised he would relax two days at home, before his next scheduled shift, and reluctantly Kel agreed he could go.  As Dixie's shift was ending, she gave the paramedic a ride home, and although she had wanted to stay for awhile to keep a trained eye on him, Johnny made up a lie that he was tired and was going straight to sleep, and so the nurse left. He had arrived at Rampart in his paramedic uniform and had only these clothes to go home in. As soon as the door closed behind Dixie, and her car was safely up the road, Johnny tore the uniform off him, and threw it with sudden contempt to the floor. He knelt down and stared at the light blue shirt holding his silver badge and his eyes flashed with anger. "You have no right!" he yelled out loud. "You don't deserve to be out there, helping people! How can you, when you nearly killed your best friend!" He then sank to the sofa, the realization and seriousness of the previous day's events coming back to fully haunt him. Trying to rid his mind of the incredibly stupid thing he had done at the warehouse fire, Gage switched his T.V. on, but it did not help. He continued to torture himself with mental degradations concerning his lack of judgment. I'm so stupid, how could I not listen when we were told to get out. I'm a loser, nothing but a big loser. Roy nearly died because of what I did, only thinking of myself. Stupid ego, how could I do that? I should have known Roy would never, ever leave me alone in that building. And now he is paying the price. He is hurt and in the hospital, away from his wife and children. It is all my fault. I can't believe I was so thoughtless. God, why didn't I just listen? Why did I have to be such a jerk and try to prove something that didn't matter in such a life threatening situation? Damn, I don't deserve to go on, why couldn't it have been me buried under cement? Jesus! I nearly killed my best friend! For nearly two hours, Johnny sat there, numb, wondering if he could ever get over this. Every time he tried to think about something else, all he could see in his mind's eye was the explosion totalling the ceiling and walls of the warehouse, burying Roy underneath it. His emotions roller coasted from sadness to anger to self-hatred to numbness. Gage was in intense mental pain. He tried to think of a way he could somehow make this up to Roy and his family, but he was now beyond exhausted. The only thought he had was to somehow get hurt himself, but his injuries would have to be more severe than what Roy had suffered. He needed to feel the intense pain he had caused Roy. In Johnny's tortured mind, only then would he believe he could make it up to his best friend. Sinking back deeper into the sofa, the young paramedic lost interest in every thought he was having about himself. He was very tired and his eyes closed. Johnny gave into the sleep that beckoned him, a feeling of utter emptiness eating away at his soul. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny entered Station 51 and walked to the locker room. Thankfully he was running late and anticipated the need to change into his uniform at home. He noticed a letter taped to his locker's door. He sighed, removed the letter and slowly sat down to read it. Recognizing the return address, Johnny ripped it open immediately. He eagerly read the letter anticipating the news it would bring. Moisture formed in his eyes as he read the letter. But his eyes couldn't hold the liquid and tears ran down his face. Johnny cried. This was the first time in untold years that Johnny cried. Thankfully he was alone for the moment. Holding his breath, willing the tears to go away, he rubbed his watery eyes and slowly re-read the words that Roy had written to him from his hospital bed. 'Johnny: I am writing this letter to you to inform you that I never wish to see or hear from you again. I have decided that once I have recovered from the injuries that you caused to happen to me, if I ever do recover, that is, that I will be transferring to another Station Company. I am lucky to be alive after what you did. Joanne thinks it is best that we part company now and I have told my kids that you are dead. Hopefully, you will realize that not seeing each other ever again is the best solution. My mind is made up, so please don't try to contact me. Roy' By the time he'd finished reading the note for the second time, Johnny's tears fell freely. Guilt consumed his being and he couldn't stand it any longer. Roy totally blamed him for his injuries, and Johnny felt he had every right to do so. The fact Roy no longer wanted anything more to do with him felt like a jagged knife slicing through his heart. He ripped the letter up, suddenly, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and ran out of the locker room. He just wanted to get away, but heard Cap's angry voice calling out to him. Stopping in the bay, next to the squad, Johnny was shocked to see Chet, Marco, Mike and Cap all standing there, glaring at him, with daggers in their eyes. Each man held a weapon of some sort and they formed a tight circle around Johnny. "It's all your fault Roy is leaving!" Chet spit out and moved menacingly closer, raising the baseball bat he held high in the air towards Gage. "Yeah, it's because you nearly killed him!" Mike replied, and started to hit the unfortunate paramedic with the chains he held. "You're responsible! You caused this to happen!" Marco said in a low, threatening voice, also moving closer to Johnny, the sharp knife he held mere inches away from Johnny's throat. Johnny felt intense sadness, quickly becoming overwhelmed. He knew he was getting what he deserved as the men of Station 51 advanced upon him... Waking up startled and grief-stricken with a pained moan, his eyes still watering, the weary paramedic noticed that the sunlight was gone and it was now pitch black around him. For a moment, he wept openly, the dream he had just experienced still etched vividly in his mind. Johnny was shocked by the amount of tears he shed. It had been many, many years since he had cried like this and it was at his mother's funeral. He jumped again when he heard his phone ringing and realized then that he was shivering, and lying on his sofa wearing nothing but his shorts. Groggy, and still upset by the intense nightmare he'd just had, he rubbed his eyes and reached over to the little stand beside his sofa that held his telephone. Who could be calling me? I wonder what time it is. "Hello?" he replied huskily into the reciever, somewhat angry as he did not feel like talking to anyone. He just wanted to be left alone. "Johnny, it's me, Chet. I was just wondering how you were doing. Do you need anything? I was just on my way over," his Irish firefighting friend replied, slightly taken back by the anguished tone in his crewmates voice. Gage stared straight ahead, his mind still in a fog. He didn't want Chet to come over. "No, Chet, listen, I don't need anything. Don't...ah...don't bother to come over, I was just leaving," the paramedic thought quickly. "Leaving? Where are you off to at 10:00 at night?" Chet asked, surprised. "And I know Dr. Brackett wants you to stay in bed. Hey, have you eaten yet? I made my famous fireman's stew and there's tons of it, I'm going to bring it over for you. I'll be by in half an hour." Johnny made a face, and tried to come up with another lie, but it was too late. Chet wasn't going to take no for an answer and all Gage heard was a dial tone in his ear. He hung up his phone in frustration. "Man, when am I ever gonna lose that guy?" he whispered to himself. Gage got up, stumbling in the darkness, and turned on some lights. He bent to pick up the uniform he had discarded on the floor earlier and then went upstairs to the bathroom. When he saw his image in the mirror, he felt disgusted. Thoughts of being a loser ran through his mind as he threw some water on his face, which was stubbly from having not shaven. He brushed his teeth and combed his unruly hair, but didn't really care that it still looked terribly messy. Gage then went to his bedroom, where he pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. As he took a deep breath, he set himself off coughing again, but ignored it as he made his way to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Not long after, as promised, Chet appeared at Johnny's front door, holding a large pot. He was smiling as Johnny waved him in, but the smile faded quickly as the firefighter noticed the way Gage looked - the wild, unkempt hair, the dark facial stubble and the bags under those sad brown eyes. But it was the look in the paramedic's eyes that bothered Kelly the most. He went straight to the kitchen and set the pot of stew down on the counter. "Johnny, you feeling okay?" Chet asked, sincerely, as the two sat down in the living room with coffee. Gage looked at him, wearily. "Yeah, sure, why?" he croaked out, unconcernedly, his throat once again irritated from his coughing spell. "Well, you sound like hell. Maybe you should've stayed another day at Rampart," Chet replied. He was truly worried about Johnny. He had tried all evening to get a hold of Johnny, but it was not until ten o'clock that the medic finally answered his phone. Chet really wanted to make sure Johnny was okay. He was well aware, from having spoken to Roy at the hospital, that Gage was very upset that his partner had been injured. The stocky firefighter knew all about what had happened back at the warehouse fire, and he felt badly that Gage had been truly hurt by his ribbing at the station that morning. Chet really hoped he would be able to help Johnny snap out of his current mood. "No, Chet, I'm fine, really. Don't give me a second thought. Why'd you come over here for, anyways? I don't need anyone's pity, you should be over at Rampart with Roy, he's the one who's...so badly injured," Johnny replied glumly, looking down as he sipped his coffee, that annoying lump appearing once again in his throat. "Well, I spent a couple hours with him there today. I thought maybe you could use some company, too. And I just wanted to see for myself that you are all right." Gage snorted at that comment. Then he realized the only way to get everyone off his back, would be to pretend all was well and he was his old self again. He smiled a phony smile, walked over to Chet and gave him a friendly slap on the back. "Well, Chester, ole buddy, you can see for yourself, everything is fine. I'm doing great, I can hardly wait for Wednesday so we can go back to work." He plunked himself down beside the firefighter on the sofa, still smiling, but inside his heart sank at the prospect of going back to work, because he knew Roy would not be his partner. Chet saw that the sparkle was just not there and that the smile did not seem genuine. But he knew that Gage must still not be feeling one hundred percent well after suffering from the smoke inhalation. The two chatted for a few more minutes, then glancing at the wall clock, Kelly saw it was nearly midnight. He got up to leave, noticing the unnatural smile still plastered on Johnny's face. "Johnny, if you need anything, give me a call. I'll be happy to help you out any way I can," Chet said sincerely, and as he looked into Johnny's expressionless eyes, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Man, he still looks like hell. "Okay, thanks, Chet, but I'll be fine, though, really. I'll see ya on Wednesday," Johnny replied, watching his friend turn and walk down the driveway to his car. Gage waved goodbye amicably, still grinning, but the moment Chet's car was out of sight, he slammed the door shut, his smile instantly gone. He walked over to his sofa and sat down, closed his eyes and began to think about what a jerk he had been to his best friend, Roy. I could have killed you. You're stuck in the hospital and it's all my fault. I could have killed you! E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The next morning, Dr. Brackett was in Roy's room, examining him. He was pleased with the senior paramedic's recovery. Roy looked and felt a great deal better. He was still bothered by the headaches, however, and Dr. Brackett worried about the head injury, knowing how fast these types of injuries could go sour. He was keeping Roy in the hospital for at least a few more days, while they monitored him thoroughly. DeSoto was still in pain from the cracked ribs and bruised kidney and they also wanted to be sure that the kidney wouldn't be giving him any more problems. Because of the head injury, Roy was given only a minimum amount of painkillers and he was uncomfortable most of the time. But he did his best to shrug it off, knowing he was being given the best of care. Roy and Dr. Brackett were discussing his progress when they heard a knock at the door. Both men were surprised to see it was Johnny. He was grinning broadly as he entered the room, and carried a bag in one hand, and a cute balloon arrangement in the other. He nodded hello to the doctor and set the arrangement down on the table next to Roy's bed. Johnny then turned to his partner, still smiling, and handed him the bag, which contained several magazines, crossword puzzles and candy treats. Dr. Brackett stared at Johnny, studying him, noticing that the paramedic looked utterly exhausted, despite his overly friendly act. "What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you would stay at home and rest until your shift tomorrow," the doctor stated. Johnny nodded. "Yeah, I know we did, Doc, but as you can see, I'm much better today. I wanted to see how Roy was doing." "I'm getting stronger and feeling okay, Johnny, but really, you should listen to Dr. Brackett and go home and rest. I'd feel better knowing you were doing better yourself," Roy replied. Gage stifled a cough and cleared his throat. He was still sore in his chest and throat and still prone to coughing attacks. But his attempts to brush it off did not get past his two medical friends. "Well, since you're here, why don't I have a listen to your chest. You still sound hoarse, Johnny," Kel replied and stepped over closer to the dark-haired paramedic. Gage was about to argue, but instead, smiled, opened his arms and allowed the doctor to listen to his lungs. Inside, he was irritated by the attention he was getting and really wanted to tell Dr. Brackett to go and take a flying leap. But he knew he couldn't do that or else they would know he was still not himself and make a big fuss over it. Which was exactly what Johnny did not want. Kel's lip twitched slightly as he pulled back and looked at the young man. "Johnny, your lungs don't sound too badly, but there is a bit of wheezing still. I'm wondering if we should maybe put you on the sick list for your shift tomorrow." Johnny backed up, frowning, his brow furrowed in obvious anger. Great, just great, why don't you all just go away and leave me the hell alone?  The dark-haired paramedic crossed his arms in defiance. "Doc, I'm fine, honestly. And I am going to work tomorrow," he replied in more of a husky tone than he had intended. Roy and Dr. Brackett exchanged glances. "Johnny, I think you should listen to the doctor," Roy advised, stunned by the sudden change in his younger friend's demeanor. John had gone from smiling and friendly to suddenly scowling and almost hostile. "No! I don't need to stay at home, I need to work! I just wish you would both quit hovering over me!" Gage replied defensively, his tone just under a shout. He felt the irritation in his lungs again, and instantly regretted having raised his voice. He tried to ward off the attack, but he couldn't and started coughing all over again. Damn! Dr. Brackett helped him over to the chair beside Roy's bed, grabbing the oxygen mask and pulling it over the paramedic's reddened face. Johnny waved his arms, no, but was overuled by the doctor. After a minute or two, deeply breathing the pure oxygen, Johnny's coughing subsided. He pulled off the mask and looked at Kel and Roy defeatedly. "Well, that does it, Johnny, you are definitely being put on the sick list for tomorrow," Dr. Brackett replied. "And I have half a notion to re-admit you to the hospital." Gage shook his head. "Doc, look, I'm sorry, I'm gonna go home now. I promise you, I promise you, I will stay in bed. Please don't put me back in here." Roy looked at Dr. Brackett, certain that his partner was a lot worse than he was trying to let on. Johnny was fighting his anger inside, trying his best to put on his happy face again. He flashed them his most charming smile, and Dr. Brackett dropped his guard. "Okay, but you are off work tomorrow, my young friend. I'll call the station to report it myself. When is your next shift?" Kel asked. "Saturday, and I know I will be fine for then," Johnny replied, getting very uptight by the conversation centering around him. He was not sick, he was here to see his best friend who was in the hospital, injured and in pain. And all because he had caused it. Johnny changed the subject, and looked over at Roy, sadness in his eyes. He attempted once again to plaster the fake smile on his face. It worked and both Kel and Roy relaxed. "So, how are you doing today?" Johnny asked, looking at his partner, and successfully diverting their attention from him. "Better, every day is better. Less pain than yesterday," Roy replied, attempting to change his position in the bed. His face showed discomfort, and Johnny rose from the chair, instantly at his side. "What can I do? Do you want me to raise the bed a little?" the dark-haired paramedic asked, concern etched on his face. Roy nodded, and Johnny did just that. Roy looked a bit better and Johnny walked up beside him again. Dr. Brackett looked at his watch, pulled his prescription pad from his lab coat pocket, scribbled something down and then handed the piece of paper to Gage. "Well, fellas, I have to get going now. Johnny, I want you to fill this script before you leave the hospital. It's an inhaler and should help you breathe a bit easier. Make sure you use it three times a day. And you can stay a little while longer, but I want you home and in bed for the next couple of days." With that said, the doctor turned and left the room. Johnny stuck the prescription in the pocket of his jeans. The two paramedics chatted for a few minutes longer. Roy noticed his partner still seemed sad and almost lost, and despite Gage's attempts to smile and joke with him, DeSoto could see that the smile just never reached his eyes. But he knew that this was just one of those many things that Johnny needed time to think about and get over by himself. Roy hoped that he would take his time off and come to the realization that nothing that had happened to Roy was his fault. DeSoto also knew how moody his partner could be and decided that time alone was exactly what he really needed. Johnny noticed Roy was starting to look tired, and he himself was feeling very drained as well. Sadly, he turned to leave, knowing it would be awhile before Roy was released from Rampart. "Well, I guess this is so long. I won't be back to see you for awhile, but look, I'll call you, or you can call me. You have a phone, right?" DeSoto nodded at his partner's question and wrote the number down on a piece of paper. As he handed it to him, Johnny grasped his hand, shaking it, then tapped him affectionately on the elbow. "Look, we'll keep in touch. I don't dare come back here, or Brackett will have me in this God-forsaken place faster than you can say D5W...well, look, sorry about that. You just take care of yourself and get better," Johnny said, backing up towards the door. He stuck the paper containing Roy's hospital phone number in his jacket pocket. "Hey, you make sure you get that prescription filled now," Roy called out after him. Johnny walked down the corridor of the hospital towards the pharmacy. He was about to enter, grabbing the prescription order from the pocket of his jeans. Instead he turned and kept walking, crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and chucked it into the next garbage container he saw. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* It was early Friday evening and Johnny was drunk. He sat outside on his porch, looking out past the road, towards the mountains, with fuzzy eyes. He had not spent any time recuperating in bed the last three days, as he had been ordered to by Dr. Brackett. Instead, the distraught paramedic had purchased several cases of beer and a couple of bottles of whiskey when he had left Rampart on Tuesday afternoon, and had managed to complete a lot of the extra work around his house that he had been putting off. All the while, Johnny was drinking. While he mowed and raked his lawn, he had a couple of beers. When he went and manicured his gardens, he drank a few more beers. By the time he had washed his Land Rover inside and out, Gage was polluted. He had stumbled to bed with his clothes still on and had slept fitfully, bothered yet again by terrifying nightmares. He had did all of that on Tuesday afternoon, after he had left Rampart. Wednesday had come and gone while he did chores inside his ranch house and barely ate. He did not have an appetite. The sadness and guilt he still felt was devouring him and the only thing that made it a little less painful to him was the alcohol. It just wasn't like Johnny to drink like that. He seldom drank and he was finding himself feeling the effects of the alcohol after only two or three beers. Johnny was still coughing and at times, his lungs and throat burned. He had constant headaches and shortness of breath occurred with minimal exertion. But he didn't care. Thursday, he was hung over and did next to nothing, except drink some more. He had only called Roy once at the hospital and was starting to feel guilty about that. The call had not been overly friendly, and Gage could sense that Roy knew something was still not quite right with him. And he was correct. Roy was becoming increasingly worried about Johnny's strange, nonchalant behavior and could tell that the younger man was intoxicated, as they spoke on the phone. At one point during their brief conversation, early Wednesday afternoon, Roy's wife, Joanne, had entered his room, and in a sudden panic, the effects of the alcohol adding to the extremity of his guilt, Johnny had quickly said goodbye to Roy, breaking down in a fit of tears as he hung up the phone. He had forced himself to bed Thursday night, not wanting to sleep, knowing, and now getting accustomed to the nightmares that consistently haunted him. Sleep was horrible; he hated the dreams he kept having. But his exhaustion was evident and Johnny could not put it off any longer. He struggled with his coughing before finally passing out and re-living the explosion in the warehouse yet again, each time the nightmare becoming somehow more brutal than the last. When Johnny woke up on Friday morning, he was a mess. He had not showered or shaved, and his face was ashen next to the dark hollows he had under his eyes. He pulled himself out of bed, once again cringing at his image in the bathroom mirror. Breathing a deep sigh caused him to start coughing once again, and this time he threw up, observing with disdain the phlegm that had come out of his lungs. He shrugged it off and saw a half drank bottle of beer on the edge of his bathtub. How did that get there? Picking it up, he downed the stale, warm contents. His stomach heaved, and he threw up again. Angry with himself, the paramedic picked up the now empty beer bottle and hurled it against the ceramic tiles of the bathroom. It shattered into a million pieces and Gage sat on the floor, next to the toilet, breaking down in strangled sobs, his thoughts focused on how terrible a person he had become. He felt something soft rub up against his arm and looked over at his cat, who had wandered into the bathroom, curious as to why his master was sitting on the floor. Johnny wiped his eyes, cleared his throat and picked the cat up, walking into the kitchen. He knew he had to get his act together before his shift in the morning, but his heart was not in it. He fed the cat, and made a pot of coffee and while he waited for it to brew, he poured himself a shot of whiskey, quickly downing it. Although it burned going down, seconds later he felt some of his depression lift. Johnny poured himself a second whiskey and drank it, satisfied that it was helping to make him feel better. The dark-haired paramedic spent the whole day at home, alone, thinking and getting drunk. He ignored the many times his phone had rang over the past few days, never once answering it. Johnny knew it would most likely be one of his crewmates from Station 51, and just did not feel like talking to them. He knew they would never understand. As Johnny became more intoxicated, he realized, distraught, that the depression he was feeling was once again overwhelming him. All he could think about was how terrible and selfish he had been, and because he'd acted that way, his partner and best friend had been nearly killed. Reliving the incident in the warehouse yet again, Gage continued to wish that it had been him who had been buried by debris, and that he would have been killed. For a moment, the drunken paramedic pondered about how he would have faced Joanne and the kids had Roy actually died back there and he felt sick to his stomach. He rose from his sofa and walked outside to his porch, where he clumsily sat down. Now, he stared out across the road, past the setting sun, and all he could picture was Roy buried in the warehouse, fighting for his life. All unnecessarily. All because of him. Johnny began to remember the countless times that Roy had saved his life, sometimes risking his own neck in the process. And this is how you repay him? By doing something so egotistically stupid that it nearly ended up killing him. Some partner and best friend you turned out to be. You should have listened when he wanted to leave that place. But no, you had to stay and be a total idiot. How am I ever going to function at work again? God, make the pain inside me stop. Gage got up in a stupor and walked inside, nearly tripping over the cat who had come over to join him. He plunked himself down on the sofa, then wearily got up to go to the kitchen for another beer. As he reached in the drawer for the bottle opener, he glanced at the sharp knives inside. Johnny felt the lump form in his throat as he picked up a long, razor sharp carving knife and held it next to the vein in his left wrist. Applying pressure, he momentarily wondered what it would feel like to bleed to death. As the blade pierced his skin and the blood oozed out, he cried yet again, unable to continue. Johnny took the knife and threw it into the kitchen sink, disgusted with himself. You can't do it! You're nothing but a lousy coward. Chet was right, you are soft... Grabbing the beer that he opened, Johnny trudged back to his living room. He sat down awkwardly, taking a long swig of the liquid and then began talking a blue streak to his cat, who jumped up on the sofa and sat down on Johnny's lap. Johnny felt himself growing increasingly tired. It was mid-evening when he finally passed out, dropping his beer bottle and the left over contents on his living room carpet and sleeping a fitful sleep, troubled by nightmares. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny calmly held the 9 mm gun in his hand, staring down at it. He felt overwhelmed by misery, sadness consumed him. He looked up and saw his friends from Station 51, in a circle around him. They had looks of anger on their faces. "Do it!" Chet Kelly spoke up first, sneering at him. "Do it!" soft spoken engineer, Mike Stoker, replied firmly. "Do it!" Marco Lopez repeated, tauntingly. Johnny looked sadly at his captain, who was nodding his agreement. "That is the least you can do to try to repay us. It is all your fault Roy is dead, you might as well join him. Except, you'll be in hell...," Captain Stanley hissed, his voice full of contempt. "What? Roy isn't dead! I was just talking to him!" Johnny cried out, terror ripping at his heart. "He's dead now. And it is all because of you. My best paramedic is gone, and you are to blame. Just do it now, pull the damn trigger already! Gage, you make me sick!" Hank replied, loathingly. The distraught paramedic brought the gun up and pointed it at the side of his head. Closing his eyes, which were moist with tears, and without a second thought, he squeezed the trigger, the deafening loudness of the revolver echoing around him... Johnny gasped and sat bolt upright in his bed. He felt the sweat running down his body and his breathing was quick and somewhat labored. Staring straight ahead, waiting for the fear of his nightmare to pass, he gulped in several deep lungfuls of air, fighting the urge to cough. He was unsuccessful, however, and once again it was a severe attack that left the paramedic feeling drained, his throat and chest aching. Nevertheless, when his coughing finally subsided, he glanced over at the alarm clock and groaned when he saw the time was only after five in the morning. Knowing he could never fall asleep now, he got out of bed to start his day, frowning slightly when he realized that he had no idea how he got from his sofa in the living room to his bedroom upstairs. But he shook his head, remembering the alcohol he had consumed and realizing that all the drinking he had done over the past few days had did little to actually help him. Johnny still felt terrible, he was nervous about returning to work, wondering who he would be partnered with, and then overwhelmed by depression at the thought of Roy still injured and in pain in the hospital. In the bathroom, he reached into his medicine cabinet and finding a bottle of cough supressant, downed a good portion of the contents. He knew that if he started to cough at work, Captain Stanley would most likely send him home, or back to Rampart for a check up. He showered and finished getting ready for work, trying to rid his mind of the thoughts of self bitterness that were now a consistent part of both his conscious and sub-conscious life. But the voices in his head kept repeating the same things over and over to him. I'm a self-righteous, egotistical loser. I don't want to do anything anymore. I just want to stay home alone and forget about the rest of the world. I nearly killed my best friend... The distraught young man grabbed the cough supressant and left for work. While driving along the 405, which at this early hour was not very busy, Gage found himself looking at all the overpasses and tractor trailers along the way. Foolishly, he let go of the steering wheel, and accelerated, wondering if fate would find him crashing into the cement, or the side of one of those large trucks. In anger and frustration, he pounded the dashboard of his vehicle, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate, the familiar lump in his throat back again. What is the matter with me? Do I really want to die? God, why can't I get over this? Man, I really need a drink... Gage knew he had to get over his depression and quickly. He breathed in, counted to ten and put on his best cheerful face as Station 51 came into view. He parked the Land Rover and walked into the station, noticing with some relief that both the squad and the engine were out on a run. He was over an hour early, which was not at all like him. Johnny made a pot of coffee, and had drank most of it by the time the emergency vehicles arrived back forty minutes later. He was feeling drained and worthless, after sitting alone and thinking his continued thoughts of self ineptitude and guilt about Roy getting injured, but forced a grin on his face as the men entered the kitchen. "Well, I don't believe it!" Station 51's C shift engineer, Sam Donaldson remarked, looking at the dark-haired paramedic sitting on the couch next to Henry, the dog, his third cup of coffee half drank. "Hey Gage, what the heck is up with you? I almost never see you anymore, because you usually just get here in the nick of time to relieve us," paramedic Charlie Baker observed. Johnny plastered a smile on his face that, to both men, just didn't appear genuine. Charlie thought the paramedic looked pale and even thinner than usual. Concerned, he walked over to Johnny and stared deeply into his eyes. Gage couldn't hold the stare, and quickly looked away. "Johnny, are you okay? You look exhausted, maybe you should tell Captain Hookrader and go on home. We all know how you were trapped in that warehouse fire with no oxygen...," Baker started, but was cut off by Gage, who was fighting his irritation. "Charlie, look, I'm doing fine. Why don't you go have a cup of coffee, and I'll make a fresh pot for the guys. They should all be getting here any minute." Man, what is it with people, why can't they quit badgering me? I'm just not worth it! Charlie didn't think Johnny looked fine at all, but he went and grabbed a cup of coffee anyway. Gage spoke nonchalantly to the rest of C shifts crew, but he was forcing himself to be pleasant. He wished they would just hurry up and leave. His dark mood did not get by them and they could all tell he just wasn't himself. It wasn't long before the A shift men arrived at the station for work. Dwyer Fitzpatrick was Roy's replacement and even though he and Johnny got along well, Dwyer couldn't help but notice Gage's somber demeanor within a few minutes of talking to him. But Dwyer simply shrugged it off that the dark-haired medic probably still wasn't feeling all that great and knowing how moody Johnny could be, left it at that. While on the squad's first run of the day, Dwyer became witness to Johnny's strange mood and behaviour. It was a call where a young boy had gotten stuck in the branches of a large, tall tree while climbing it, and had fallen several feet down, catching himself along the way and breaking his arm in the process. He was hanging by his jacket some twenty five feet up in the tree and Johnny insisted on doing nearly everything himself to rescue the boy, becoming uncharacteristically angry when Dwyer offered him help. Station 51's second run had been no better. They were called to a structure fire, late morning, where one victim, a young child, was still trapped inside the house. At the scene, Johnny appeared hyper, not wanting to just stand around and wait for Captain Stanley to give out the orders. Without thinking, Gage turned suddenly and darted into the home as Chet, Marco and Dwyer pulled on their tanks and oxygen masks, leaving Cap to stare blankly after the paramedic, his jaw dropped in disbelief. Stanley gathered his wits, pulled his handy talkie out and began giving his orders. "L.A. Engine 51, we have a two storey home heavily engulfed in flames and one victim reported trapped inside. I want a second alarm assignment and respond an ambulance to our location." Hank swung the handy talkie down, then glared at his men, angered by Gage's foolish move to run into the house by himself.  He realized he had to take charge and breathing deeply, staring at the house, he barked, "Kelly, Lopez, get an inch and a half in there, and cover Gage, I have more help on the way."  The men moved with lightning speed, knowing their captain was not happy. Inside the house, that was already much destroyed by the fire, Johnny trudged around, trying hard to keep his breathing slow and even. He did not even have his tank with him. He looked in the kitchen where the fire was raging out of control and realized it would not be easily contained. The flames were shooting up and all around, the ceiling was black and and the walls were starting to crumble. Never once giving his decision about being in the house a second thought, Gage moved stealthily without any fear whatsoever through the building. All he wanted to do was save the victim and his own safety just did not matter to him. Although the smoke was quite bad, thick and grey, Johnny ran up the fire gutted stairs, guided by instinct. He entered the first bedroom on the left, and getting down on his knees to conduct the search, found a small girl underneath the bed, crying. He smiled at her and scooped her up in his arms, all the while fighting the irritation that was once again forming deep in his throat. Outside, Captain Stanley was just about to send Dwyer in to find his paramedic when Johnny came running out of the house carrying the child and coughing uncontrollably. His lungs, already damaged from the warehouse fire several days before, were greatly aggravated. But Johnny didn't seem to care about himself as he laid the girl gently on the grass and began administering oxygen to her, all the while coughing violently. The child's parents, upon seeing Gage run out of their demolished home, joined him on the grass, thanking him profusely for having saved their daughter. Cap and Dwyer walked over to him, Dwyer a look of disbelief on his face, Cap, a look of sternness that Johnny had never before seen, on his. "Johnny?..." Dwyer began, shaking his head, at a complete loss for words. "Gage, what the hell were you thinking running in there, pulling a stunt like that?" Cap demanded, at first not caring that he was yelling at the paramedic in front of Dwyer, Mike Stoker who had come over to help, and the child's two parents. Chet and Marco were inside the structure, hose trained on the fire, when Engine 127 pulled up to assist. For a moment, Cap's attention was diverted from Johnny as he spoke to the other captain and had his men join Chet and Marco with another hose in the building. When the crew of Engine 127 disappeared, Cap turned once again to a soot-covered Johnny who was taking vitals on the little girl. But the fire department captain realized he had to maintain a degree of professionalism and asked Dwyer to take over the care of the child, grabbing Johnny by the arm and walking a short distance away. The paramedic's coughing spell had subsided greatly and he knew he was in deep trouble, but he didn't care. "Gage, I'm gonna ask you again - why the hell did you run in there like that?" Stanley practically spit the words out, he was so stunned and angry. "Just doing my job, Cap," Johnny replied in calm professionalism, in between stuttered coughs, his voice raspy from the smoke he'd eaten. "I may have saved that little girl's life. Isn't that what I get paid to do?" "Gage, you ran in there, half-cocked, before we even had a chance to get our hoses hooked up. You took a tremendous chance that was totally uncalled for. That house was completely engulfed. What were you thinking? You could've been killed!" Stanley stated, still shocked his paramedic had even attempted such a thing. Killed? Yeah, so what. Like that would've been any great loss the sombre young man thought dejectedly, peering up at his superior and noticing that Dwyer was on the biophone to Rampart. "Cap, bottom line is, I saved that little girl's life. You know that if we would have waited, she would be dead by now. Just look at that house. And I'm fine," Johnny replied stealthily, trying to resist the urge to cough yet again. "You're coughing alot, you've aggravated your lungs. You should never have went in there without your SCBA. You're not fine, Johnny," Cap remarked, shocked by Gage's coolness and obvious disregard for his own safety. "I'm okay now, Cap," the stubborn paramedic insisted. "Gage, will you listen to me? You should never have gone in that house, you should have waited until..." "Cap, can you honestly tell me that little girl would still be alive now if I had waited?" Johnny glanced at his captain's face, watched him hesitate, at a loss for words. Cap had never known Gage to be this resilient, the dark-haired paramedic had never pulled a foolish stunt like this before, and Hank really didn't know how to handle it. "Well, I didn't think so either," Johnny finished, his voice still husky. "Gage, next time you had better wait until you have my order to move, got it?" Cap asked, attempting to keep the upper hand. But all he received from the medic for an answer was a meek shrug, as Johnny turned and walked back to help with the child, not caring if Cap was finished with him or not. Speechless over Gage's actions and demeanor, Hank decided he would have to keep an eye on him and wondered what was going on in the younger man's obviously troubled mind. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* At Rampart, Johnny left the little girl with Dwyer and Dr. Morton in Exam Room 4 and quickly made his way upstairs to Roy's room. He needed to see him but at the same time had no idea what to say to him. What do you talk about to a friend you so carelessly caused injury too? he wondered as he knocked on the door and entered. Roy was lying in bed, his leg raised in a high sling, and at first Johnny didn't see Joanne sitting in the chair beside him. But when he did, his face paled almost instantly and the meek smile he wore vanished. Intense guilt swallowed up his being. Johnny felt sick to his stomach and wanted to run out of the room, but Joanne turned around to see him, her eyes instantly becoming moist. "Oh, Johnny, I'm so glad you're here," she replied, getting up from the chair. Roy grinned at his partner, glad to finally see him. "We tried to get a hold of you while you were off at home, but I guess we just kept missing you." Johnny didn't know what to say. He was certain the woman must loathe him for what he had caused to happen to her husband. But yet, here she was, walking over to him, giving him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Gage was shocked. "Jo..Joanne, you...you're here...I...," the dark-haired paramedic stammered, reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek that Joanne had kissed. "Yes, and I just want to thank you for all you did for Roy," the pretty woman replied, smiling up at him. "What? Jo...I want to tell you...tell you how sorry I am...I'm so sorry..." Gage muttered, at a loss for words. I almost made you a widow, how can you be thanking me? I nearly left your kids without their father! What is wrong with you people? "What are you talking about? You saved Roy's life, Johnny, and for that I am forever grateful," Joanne whispered, trying not to get overly emotional again. Gage stared at her as though she had sprouted horns. Roy frowned at the strange look of bewilderment on his partner's face, not sure what he was thinking. "Johnny, who did you get for a partner while I'm off?" DeSoto asked. Johnny looked at him blankly, disbelief etched on his features. "What?" For some reason, Gage could not believe what was happening. Here, he had been responsible for nearly killing Roy and they were thanking him and asking him totally redundant questions. His mind was not thinking rationally. He suddenly felt like he were suffocating. "Look, I have to go now. I just wanted to come by and see you, see how you were feeling, but I have to go now," Johnny said, and turning quickly, he bolted straight out the door, leaving an astonished Roy and Joanne to stare after him. Gage was muttering under his breath as he walked hurriedly down the hall towards the elevator. He made his way down to the base station, shaking his head, barely noticing Dixie and Dwyer as they stood waiting for him. He was acting very bizarre, as though they weren't even in the same room as he was. Dwyer and Dixie exchanged puzzled glances as they watched the paramedic stand there, staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging them. Dr. Brackett came to join them from his office and gave Johnny a pat on the back. Johnny jumped, obviously startled, and the three people beside him frowned. "Yeah?" Gage replied in a rather surly tone. "Hey Johnny, didn't mean to scare you. How are you feeling? Your lungs okay?" Brackett asked, looking straight into the young man's brown eyes. Dwyer was about to speak, to tell the doctor how Gage's lungs had been aggravated at the house fire, but Johnny glared daggers at him, and interrupted with a lie. "Yeah, I'm great, alot better," Johnny replied, coolly. Then, remembering their victim, attempting to change the subject away from him, he asked, "How's our little girl doing?" "She's gonna be fine, I'm releasing her in a little while. Hey, Johnny, you using that inhaler I gave you three times a day as instructed?" Kel inquired, not allowing himself to be sidetracked. He could hear the hoarseness in Gage's voice. Johnny looked away and tapped Dwyer on the sleeve. "Yeah," the troubled young man lied again. "C'mon, Dwyer, we have to get going." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Back at the station, Johnny made a quick retreat into the dorm and threw himself on his bunk. He didn't want to be bothered by anyone today. He stared at the ceiling, acutely depressed and angry at the same time. His emotions were driving him crazy and he wished he were at home with a beer in his hand. Dwyer went to look for him and when he saw that Johnny was just lying there in the bunk, he was immediately concerned. "Hey, Johnny, are you sick or something?" he asked and watched as the dark-haired paramedic shook his head no. "Then what is the matter? Are you angry with me about something?" At that moment, Johnny was furious to see that Chet Kelly had wandered into the dorm and was listening in. Chet laughed, replying, "Yeah, Dwyer, he's mad because you get more dates than he does." At Chet's comment, Gage jumped from the bunk and cornered Chet into the wall, arm raised, hand curled into a fist, staring at him with fury in his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower he could find within himself to not punch the firefighter in the face. Dwyer's eyes opened wide with disbelief and he moved forward, ready to pull Gage away if necessary. Kelly glanced at him, fear in his eyes, and Johnny lowered his arm, backing away. He rubbed his hand over his face and plunked down on his bunk. "Gage, what the hell is the matter with you?" Chet demanded, still somewhat shaken from the aggression Johnny had just displayed towards him. "Look, I'm sorry, Chet, can you please just leave me alone? Please!" the dark-haired medic begged. Respecting his wishes, Dwyer and Kelly left the dorm, still stunned by their crew mates behaviour. As luck would have it, it was an exceptionally slow day for calls at Station 51, making the shift drag on for all the men. Because they were not interrupted by the tones going off steadily as usual, the crew were able to finish their assigned chores in record time. Gage surprised everyone, by volunteering for latrine duty, knowing he would be completing this chore alone. He didn't want to talk or associate with anyone, and the rest of the men really wanted to stay away from him as well. Marco made his famous chili for supper and they all sat down at the table to eat. Gage picked at his food, managing to swallow only a few morsels, while the rest of the guys also had trouble eating. They were making strained efforts at small talk, but the dark-haired paramedic was barely listening to them. He finally gave up trying to eat and with a sad look on his face, feeling miserable for being the cause of the obvious tension at the table, Gage got up and left, walking out of the kitchen, trying to make the lump that had formed in his throat go away. God, just look at me. I'm making everyone else depressed too. I should just get away from them. I'm sure they all hate me, I'll just bet Chet reports me for what I did to him. Maybe if I just get outta here, they will forget about me for a while. Johnny's terrible mood had made everyone else feel glum, especially Dwyer who had to work most closely with Gage. The rest of the shift couldn't end soon enough for Dwyer, who was feeling extremely uncomfortable around Johnny. He gave up trying to make Gage feel better, as his attempts to cheer him up were met with silence and coolness. Chet stayed completely away from Johnny, which suited him just fine. Cap, Marco and Mike decided to leave Gage alone, so that he would work out whatever problem was bothering him this time by himself. But the more time he spent by himself, the more his thoughts of guilt, anger, and depression devoured him. Later on that evening, Johnny was lying on his bunk once again, staring up at the ceiling when Marco entered. He cringed, not wanting to bother the paramedic, but he had been the one elected to do so. Lopez walked over to the bunk and staring at Johnny, shook his head. "Johnny, you have a phone call," the firefighter advised him, apprehensively. Gage scowled. "Who the hell is it?" he asked, not moving from the bed. "I don't know, it's female though. We thought you might be interested." Johnny wasn't, but he rose from the bunk anyway. Marco followed him to the kitchen, where the rest of the crew pretended not to notice him enter the room and pick up the phone. He hadn't even thought that he could have taken the call privately in the dorm. "Hello," Gage replied, in monotones, rubbing his temple. The other men were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and trying not to listen. "Oh, hello, Melissa. No, I forgot about our date the other night...listen, sorry...No, I'm going to have to cancel that day as well...yeah, I got an overtime shift, so I won't be able to make it...Okay, I'll call you sometime," Johnny lied to his caller and hung up. Without saying a word to the astonished men who had heard what he'd said, Gage quickly retreated back to the dark solitude of the dorm. Chet, Cap, Marco, Mike and Dwyer stared after him, disbelief written on all their faces. A couple of hours later, the crew of Station 51 had just settled down in their bunks, thankful to be able to go to sleep, when the klaxon tones went off for the first time that night. Instantly, they jumped back out, pulled on their turnout pants and listened to the dispatcher's voice as they ran to the bay. "Station 51, vehicle accident with injuries. Intersection at 4700 Warrendale, 4-7-0-0 Warrendale, cross street Whipple. Time out 23:14." Captain Stanley acknowledged the call. "Station 51, ten-four, KMG 365." He handed the piece of paper with the address he had written on it to Gage, who was in the squad's driver's seat, and ran to the engine. The emergency vehicles made their way out onto the street, lights flashing and sirens blaring. At the scene, the squad and engine pulled up to the intersection and the men exited the vehicles. They could see a brown sports car flipped over backwards and upside down on its front bumper, leaning up against a hydro pole, supported only by one tire. A larger, green sedan was close by, in the middle of the intersection, badly damaged. It was blocking the small amount of traffic that was trying to get past it, and the police officers on the scene were directing the cars around it.  As Cap looked around, assessing the situation, he noticed that one of the cops was Vince Howard, a police officer that they had come to know over the years. He watched as Vince's partner took over the direction of traffic and trotted over to him. Johnny and Dwyer ran over to the green car to check the occupants, while Chet and Marco instinctively got the inch and a half ready. Stanley got on his handy talkie, and ordered an ambulance. "Looks like a bad one, Hank," Vince replied to Cap, who nodded his agreement. "The people in that brown sports car are trapped, and there's a gas leak. The hydro line is down and there's a couple of severed wires." Hank looked over and saw that Lopez and Kelly had gotten the hose out, and Mike Stoker was charging the lines. Captain Stanley watched as a spark from the severed hydro wire above the sports car floated downwards and landed on the pavement, instantly igniting into a bright orange flame beside the vehicle. Johnny saw it as well, while Dwyer was checking the vitals on the driver of the green car. Immediately, without a second thought, Gage ran towards the upside-down sports car that was leaning up against the hydro pole on one tire, balanced on its front bumper. He also noticed the sparks flying from the overhead exposed wire, and without perceptible delay he darted underneath the car. Chet and Marco were there hosing down the flame that had started, but it stubbornly refused to be extinguished, and was spreading quickly. Cap gasped as he watched his paramedic go in under the car, which was swaying dangerously back and forth on the tip of its bumper, the right, rear tire being the only thing holding it up, unsteadily, against the pole. "Johnny, wait, we better tie that vehicle down!" Cap yelled over, but Johnny was already inside the sports car, trying to get the two occupants out. Hank, upset that Johnny was once again taking control of the situation, without his consent, grimaced, but realized there was nothing he could do about it now. He was short on manpower and he needed Chet and Marco to hose down the road and make certain that the fire did not spread to the green car. Cap hoped that Johnny would be able to get the victims out, without becoming a victim himself. Hank saw the brown car teetering against the hydro pole on its tire and realized with chagrin that Gage was once again taking an unneccesary risk. He was about to run over to help Johnny, but instead, rushed over to Dwyer who was calling for him. Fitzpatrick was attempting to extricate his victim, but the large man was unconscious and a dead weight, and he couldn't lift him by himself. Cap and Vince both ran over to assist. Inside the brown vehicle, the female passenger was crying hysterically, and Gage reached over and grabbed her arm, unaware that the fire was now inside the car's engine. She crawled into the back seat as he directed her and he pulled her out, after quickly clearing away the remains of shatttered glass, through the rear window. Wailing, but miraculously unhurt, she ran across the intersection to where Cap, Vince and Dwyer were just lying the driver of the green sedan down on the ground. Johnny reached in towards the unconscious victim of the sports car, the pungent smell of the smoke coming up to assault his face, causing him to break out coughing.  He ignored it, and with much effort, as carefully as was possible, began to pull the young man out of the swaying car. One wrong move and the car's perch on the hydro pole would be gone, causing it to slam to the pavement, undoubtedly crushing both Gage and the driver. Johnny didn't care as he struggled to free the man, the car bobbing around crazily with his efforts. Just as he thought it would certainly come crashing down on top of them, the young man pulled free and Johnny dragged him from underneath it, aided by Dwyer, who had run over to help. "You got him?" Gage cried out, noticing that Cap and Vince had rushed over to help as well. Dwyer nodded, then replied, "You okay? C'mon, before this car falls on you!"  With Hank's help, Dwyer ran with the victim to the other side of the street, Vince following close behind. Slowly rising up from his squatting position, Johnny was about to turn and run to safety, when he noticed the left arm of his turnout coat was caught on a piece of jagged metal sticking out of the brown sports car. For a split second he wondered whether or not he should attempt to remove it, and hesitated, not moving. Chet Kelly noticed he was still under the car, and tapping Marco on the shoulder left the hose and ran over to Gage. "Johnny, c'mon, what are you waiting for?" Kelly asked, and grabbed the paramedic by the arm. Johnny shrugged him off. "My coat's stuck, look get outta here, the fire's in the engine, it's gonna blow!" "Here, let me help you!" Chet replied, but again, Johnny pushed him roughly away. Startled by the medic's reaction, Chet nearly lost his balance from the shove, but looked over to see that Gage had pulled his coat away from the metal. Kelly turned to run as the hard movements that Johnny had used to free himself caused the brown sports car to finally waver and fall, crashing heavily to the pavement. Upon impact with the road, the ill-fated car exploded, lighting up the night and throwing Chet to the ground. The stocky firefighter looked around in fear for Johnny, at first not sure if he had made it out from underneath the vehicle, but breathed a deep sigh of relief as he noticed him lying on the pavement a few feet away. Within seconds, Cap, Marco and Mike were at their side, helping them to their feet. Chet was thankful that neither he nor Johnny were injured, but he couldn't get the feeling out of his mind that the dark-haired paramedic had not wanted to be saved while caught under the car. It was as though he were content to be stuck there, and had Chet not gone over to offer him help, the stocky firefighter felt deeply that Gage would not have made any attempt to get himself out from under the vehicle. Completely creeped out by Johnny's demeanor, Chet tried to dismiss those thoughts from his mind as they went over to where Dwyer was treating the victims. Sadly, the lone male driver of the green sedan had suffered cardiac arrest and Fitzpatrick had been unable to resusitate him. Now, they watched as Dwyer placed a blanket over the face of the young driver of the brown sports car, shaking his head at Johnny as he approached. The only thing they could do was attempt to console the female passenger of the brown vehicle, who became even more hysterical upon realizing her boyfriend had been killed. Although they could find no injuries on her, other than a few scrapes and bruises, the paramedics accompanied her to Rampart for a check. Afterwards, when they left for the ride back to the station, neither Johnny nor Fitzpatrick spoke a word. They were both upset that they had lost two people. Back at the station, Chet was upset, still wondering if he had not gone to help Johnny, would the dark-haired paramedic have been victim number three? Although Kelly believed this, he did not mention his thoughts to anyone else, and when Gage and Dwyer returned from the hospital, Chet had only to look at the intense, bitter expression on Johnny's face to know his feelings were correct. Johnny actually seems disappointed he managed to get out from under that car. Why wouldn't he let me help him? Captain Stanley, as well, was bothered by Gage's actions during the accident. It had not been a necessity for Johnny to rush in under the brown car before they had tied it down. Johnny had ran in there on his own accord, knowing the serious risks he was taking. Cap did not mention anything to Gage regarding this incident, but he made a note of his paramedic's actions in his logbook, before returning to his bunk. The rest of the night was quiet with no calls to disturb their slumber, but not all the men of Station 51 were able to sleep peacefully. The next morning, after the shift ended, Johnny left the station, not bothering to say good bye to anyone. He was angry about how the vehicle accident in the night had turned out. Johnny had begun to think that he was responsible for the death of the young driver in the sports car, and that he should have been able to get him out sooner. He was angry with himself for dislodging his coat as well, and if Kelly had not come up to him like he had, Johnny believed he would not have bothered to free himself. Crazily, he had not felt any fear at all as he had sat there under the burning car, facing certain death. The medic got in his Land Rover and drove, more recklessly than he knew he should have, but didn't care, somewhat disappointed when he managed to get home without being involved in an accident. He would have cherished the feelings of pain from being physically hurt. the story continues