Since he had been able to sleep much of the night at the station, albeit fitfully with still more nightmares, Johnny stayed up, showered and got something to eat before he decided he would tackle his household chores. He began to think about what a bad shift he had just finished working. The paramedic knew he had been creepy towards his crewmates and realized that they also must hate him by now. He had practically beaten up on Chet, and that was just not like him. He had angered Cap more than Gage had ever seen him, in the five years he had worked for him. And for no apparent reason, he had both missed and cancelled dates with a beautiful nurse he had been dying to go out with. Guilt turned to sadness and for a short while, he sat on his sofa feeling empty and very alone. Tears welled up once again in his eyes as he thought about Roy lying hurt in a hospital bed because of his actions. Johnny started to feel the extreme depression overwhelming him once again, the evil thoughts he had for himself swallowing his mind up. I'm a terrible person.  Man, I stood Melissa up! And cancelled our next date! What is wrong with me? I was horrible at work today. They all detest me now, I know it. I deserve it. Cap is probably going to fire me next shift. How could I have treated them like that? Kelly should have reported me for what I did to him. I nearly punched him!! Plus I shoved him really hard during that car accident last night. I think he knows that I didn't want to be rescued. God, I don't deserve to live anymore... Gage had a headache, but at noon, he grabbed a beer from his fridge and guzzled it down, trying to make the guilt and depressed feelings go away. The first beer didn't really help, so he reached for another one, along with a handful of aspirins and consumed both the aspirins and the whole beer in under two minutes. He then went to finish his chores and afterwards, washed up, went outside, got in his Rover and drove off to the store. He purchased various magazines, newspapers and a get-well card for Roy, and was about to get a case of beer for himself, but suddenly thought better of it. No! This isn't the answer, it's not helping you! he decided, putting the beer back on the shelf. Johnny then proceeded to drive to Rampart, still bothered by the headache. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but his throat and chest were still hurting him. If he had been in a normal state of mind, he wouldn't have hesitated to see Dr. Brackett and tell him he was still coughing up phlegm and at times, having a bit of trouble breathing. Johnny could feel the wheezing in his chest, which he knew was getting worse, but he didn't really care. He rather hoped it was turning into pneumonia. Outside Roy's door, Johnny paused, and took a breath, trying to control both his emotions and the urge to cough. He felt the rattling in his chest, ignored it, and was about to knock and enter when he heard voices coming from inside. He was positive he heard his name being mentioned. Curious, he creeped in, slowly, quietly, opening the door just enough to see Roy lying in bed, talking to Chet and Dwyer. "Bizarre isn't the word for it, he's been acting...," Chet was saying, but suddenly stopped, interrupted by Roy who saw the door open and Johnny standing there, frowning. "Johnny! Hi, it's good to see you, partner! Glad you're here!" Roy replied, smiling, waving him inside. Johnny just stood there looking at the three men. Finally, he entered the room, handing Roy the card and magazines he had brought for him, but not saying a word. The tension in the room was obvious. Gage knew they had been talking about him. "Well, I'm really glad you're doing better, Roy. I guess I should be going," Dwyer said, raising his eyebrows. He made a move for the door, glancing sideways at Johnny. "Yeah, me too. See you soon, Roy," Chet replied, exiting right behind Dwyer. "Thanks, Junior, for the stuff," Roy said, opening the card. As he read the warm statements inside, Roy was deeply moved. Johnny had never given him a card like this before. Gage watched him intently as he read it to himself, comforted somewhat by Roy's reaction to the heartfelt words he'd written. In Johnny's own mind, he was haunted by the nightmare he'd had of Roy writing him a letter to tell him he would be transferring out of Station 51 as soon as his injuries had healed. Secretly, Johnny was terrified by the thought of that dream coming true. If that were to ever happen for real...Gage shuddered, not liking the consequences that thought held. He still hadn't said a word as DeSoto looked over to him, smiling. "Nice card, partner, thanks," the fair-haired paramedic said, smiling, and reached out to shake Johnny's hand. "Ah, sure. Hope you...know...well, it was hard for me...but I just wanted you to know that I care about you, Roy. And I am sorry I was so dumb...and...almost got you killed." Roy looked deeply into his partner's dark eyes, searching, trying to figure out what was going on in that ever confusing, always changing mind of Gage's. "Look, I know you all were talking about me just now," Johnny started slowly, sadness evident. "But I don't expect them to understand. Hell, I don't even expect you to understand. But I'm a changed person, Roy." "How so?" DeSoto asked, trying to get his partner to open up, and perhaps shed some light on how he was feeling. "Well, I realized alot of things. Things I took for granted before. What my priorities are, what and who I care for." "Johnny, the guys did come here to talk to me about you. They're worried about you, I'm worried about you." "Don't be, don't be," Gage replied, raspily, turning away, clenching his teeth. "I'm fine, perfectly fine." He fought to stifle a cough, unsuccessfully and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "From the things they were telling me, I don't think so, Junior. You went out of your way to risk your neck yesterday at that house fire. And crawling under that car that was on fire and about to smash to the pavement...that's not like you at all, Johnny, to pull careless stunts like that. Do you still think you have something to prove?" Roy questioned, watching his partner intently, who was staring downwards, away from Roy, absentmindedly scratching at his thumbnail. "No, it wasn't that." "Then what? What is it? You've got everybody really concerned about you," Roy told him. "It's nothing. Look, don't waste anymore of your time. You all must have better things to do than waste your time thinking about me," Johnny replied, quietly, still unable to look at DeSoto. He cleared his aching throat, coughing yet again. Finally, the answer dawned on Roy, his eyes opening wide from thoughts radiating out of a mixture of concern and disbelief. Johnny, no! He fought to keep his emotions at bay thinking about it, needing to hear it from Johnny, but knowing how difficult it would be to get him to admit to it. Roy didn't know how to ask, what to say, but the older paramedic knew he had to do it, had to be tactful and gentle in his approach. His heart broke as he spoke, his voice raspy with emotion and barely above a whisper. "Johnny, are you purposely going out to try to get yourself hurt...or killed?" Gage whirled around at hearing Roy's words, facing him, eye to eye. DeSoto saw a look on his partner's face that he had never seen before, an expression of intense sadness, anger and self-loathing that told him he was right. DeSoto was also right in knowing that Johnny would never, ever admit to him that he had been feeling like that. The realization that his partner and best friend could actually have become so ridden by guilt and depression that he would even remotely consider harming himself caused Roy to feel an extreme, painful sense of dread. But he knew there wasn't much he could do about it, unless Johnny admitted his feelings and that he needed help. "That's insane, Roy! Do you think I'm crazy? How can you think that?" "C'mon, Johnny. I know you very well. You've made it pretty obvious that you're not interested in yourself. You're showing classic signs of major depression. And I'm thinking that maybe you're mad at yourself because of what happened to me. You're so consumed by guilt that you're risking your life needlessly." Gage fought to control his emotions. He just didn't know what to say. DeSoto had hit the proverbial nail on the head. He did know him too well.  "Look Roy, that is just crazy talk on your part. You...you're...you are saying you think...you think I'm...suicidal? Me? No way, Roy. I just...there's alot going on right now...I just have alot to think about. Look, I was...I was only doing my job," Gage stammered, trying to come up with something believable in an attempt to deny what Roy had just charged him with. But DeSoto wasn't buying it. Clearly, Johnny was getting upset, and it appeared obvious to Roy that his younger friend was fighting to not completely lose it. Johnny changed the subject quickly, in an effort to make Roy forget what he was thinking about him, but this tactic of Gage's did not get by Roy. He was certain Johnny was very close to an emotional breakdown. Roy eyed his partner while they chatted about nothing in particular for the next few minutes, making Gage feel quite uncomfortable. Johnny, knowing he was under surveillance, finally said goodbye to Roy and left the hospital. Dr. Brackett was just rounding the corridor and watched as Johnny walked stealthily out of Roy's room, not acknowledging anyone, a strange, lost look of misery on his face. Concerned, the doctor entered Roy's room to see him staring straight ahead, perceivably distressed. He jumped slightly as Kel approached him. "Roy? Something the matter? You feeling okay?" Dr. Brackett asked, observing his patient with a practiced eye. Roy, lost in thought, hesitated before answering. "Ah, yeah, I'm okay, Doc. But I'm not so sure about Johnny." "What do you mean? Is he having trouble with his lungs?" "No, maybe, yeah. Yeah, he might have been, he did cough a bit and his voice was pretty raspy." "Well, the reason I ask, is I know Johnny never had that prescription filled that I gave him a few days ago," Dr. Brackett replied. "I got my scripts back from the pharmacy today, and there wasn't one on the list for John Gage. He outright lied to me when I asked him if he had been taking the medication." Roy glanced quickly up at the doctor, and now he was almost certain of the truth. He had to discuss his feelings with someone and began to speak in great detail to Dr. Brackett regarding his partner's recent eratic behaviour. Kel's lip twitched as he listened to Roy describing the dark-haired paramedic's strange antics and the fact that he appeared to have an obvious death wish. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* "Station 51, shooting incident. Assist police at 855 Charleton, 8-5-5 Charleton, cross street Murphy. Time out 08:45." Dwyer had come to work, hopeful that Gage would be back to his old self again. But two days later, he was greeted by the same dark, brooding man he'd left the previous shift. If anything, Johnny seemed to be even worse, desperately depressed and unsociable, not saying a word to anyone unless it was an absolute necessity. Completely out of character, Gage had once again arrived at work over an hour early, and had shuffled off to the dorm, after roll call, to be by himself. Only when the tones went off for their call, did the young paramedic come out, a rather distressed look of sadness on his face. Dwyer thought again about confronting him openly on what was bothering him during the ride to their call, but Johnny seemed intent on concentrating on his driving and where they were going. The squad and engine stopped at a house on a small, otherwise quiet dead-end street, that was now overloaded with emergency vehicles. There were three police cruisers already at the scene, the officers crouched behind the vehicles for cover, guns drawn. As the men from Station 51 trotted up towards them, they heard the sound of a gun shot coming from within the small brick house. An officer yelled at them to get down and all six firefighters took quick cover behind the engine and squad. "For the last time, come out now with your hands in the air!" one of the police officers yelled, staring intently at the little house. "Go away before I kill her, or someone else!" a man's voice screamed back. One of the officers had creeped his way up to the house and was now standing on the porch beside the front door, gun in hand, his body leaning tightly against the structure. Hoping to take the suspect by surprise, he made a fast move to open the door, and as he did a series of gun shots suddenly rained down around him, one of them hitting him in the leg. He screamed and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Another cop, who had also inched his way up to the house, and was crouched behind a bush next to the stairs of the porch, made an attempt to stand up to try to get to his partner, but was met with more gunfire. This time though, the armed man was standing at the opened front door, his arm clutched tightly around the neck of a sobbing woman. He pointed a sawed-off shotgun menacingly at her head, finger curled dangerously tight around the trigger. The officer closest to the house noticed with disdain that the angry gunman had two other pistols tucked into the sides of his jeans. The man looked to be about forty years old, semi-balding, short, and on the portly side. His face was reddened in anger. The woman was a petite blonde, maybe five years younger than the man, assumedly her husband, who was holding her hostage. She had a look of terror on her face, and struggled in vain to free herself from the man's steely grip on her neck. "You clowns got two minutes to get outta here, or I start shooting and I don't stop 'til I run out of bullets!" the madman yelled, looking down at the cop whom he'd shot, still lying on the porch by the doorway, five feet away. "I start with him, and this time it'll be a bullet in the head!" the suspect shouted and then pointed his weapon at the police officer who had been advancing towards them and was closest to the house, behind the bush. "You! You better get away from here, or you'll be the one responsible for the little lady here getting shot!" The cop put away his gun and slowly raised himself up from behind the bush, arms in the air, defeatedly. He backed away, as instructed, and joined the others behind the barricade of police cruisers. He was not happy, having been so close to them, but unable to do anything to help the lady or his partner. The officer knew they had to come up with plan B, before this lunatic killed somebody. He began to whisper to the other cops, trying to come up with some way to nab this guy, without causing any more injuries. The officer pulled out a handy talkie. "Dispatch, this is two-five Michael. We have more shots fired. We have an officer down. Respond a  S.W.A.T. team and a hostage negotiator to this location immediately." John Gage was watching the whole scene, vividly taking in the turn of events. He started to move around to the other side of the squad, closer to the police. Dwyer grabbed his arm, shocked. "Where you going?" Dwyer muttered, staying down behind the back of the squad. "Just over there by the cops. I have an idea," Johnny replied, shrugging off his temporary partner's hand, moving forward. The police seemed to be at a loss as of what to do, but Gage didn't know they were now discussing using tear gas. Before they even saw him, Johnny was calmly walking past the first police car and directly towards the threatening man, his arms in the air. He began to speak to the gunman in a soothing manner. Captain Stanley was mortified by what he was witnessing. "Johnny! Get back behind the squad! Now!" the fire captain yelled, a panicked expression on his face. The young paramedic seemed to not hear him. Instead, he continued to walk slowly, closer towards the porch of the house, smiling slightly, his hands still in the air. The man looked at him with shock and disbelief, hesitating, and loosened his grip on the woman's neck. She stared at Johnny, praying silently, in awe of the young fireman who stood across from them. "Hey look, I'm a paramedic. I'm here to help you. My name's Johnny. What's yours?" The man couldn't get over the fact that this guy had the guts to simply walk up to them like that, and figured he must be crazy. Knowing he still held the upper hand, the suspect spoke to Johnny, wondering when he should blow the fireman away. "Bill. It's Bill. What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get yourself shot? I could pull this trigger right now and you'd be lying on the grass dead," he muttered. "I know that, Bill. But I just want this to end. It can't go on forever, you know, it's going to end eventually, so why not save us all the overtime and let the lady go? Give yourself up now, why don't you?" "No freakin' way! I'm not going to jail on account this is all her damn fault!" Johnny glanced down a moment at the wounded police officer, who also could not believe what the paramedic was doing. He was bleeding profusely from the bullet wound in his upper thigh. Gage knew he needed to stop the bleeding now. "Bill, hey man, c'mon. Give it up. You really don't want to hurt anyone else. You've shot this police officer, let me treat him and give yourself up. The courts will go much easier on you if you do. Okay, man?" Johnny reasoned, lowering his arms and moving another foot closer. Bill thought about it a moment. Then he started to get excited all over again. "No! No, no, no, no, no! You're trying to trick me! You're really a cop too, aren't you? I can see your badge! You're lying to me!" Johnny never lost his composure as the man suddenly pointed the gun at him. He was less than ten feet away from the couple and appeared completely calm. Police officers and firefighters, watching in the background, held their breath, certain it would be only seconds before the paramedic was lying dead on the grass. "That's good, Bill. I just want to help you, man. You don't want to shoot anyone else, I know you don't. Now, let the lady go. Please don't hurt the lady. C'mon, ma'am," Johnny coaxed, certain Bill would not shoot and, with confidence, extended his arms out to her. Bill allowed the woman to run to safety behind one of the police cruisers. He didn't need her anymore, he now had a new hostage. The police officers took aim, ready to shoot down the offender, but Johnny was in the direct line of fire. Bill realized this and focused his attention on this unbelievable, daring young man who was not at all concerned about getting himself shot. Perhaps, thought Bill, he was some kind of a special agent, one of those guys who the police used during hostage situations. Was he for real? "Now, Bill, let me help this police officer. He's bleeding real bad. I have to take care of him, then I can help you," Johnny replied softly, walking slowly up the stairs of the porch. He knelt down next to the cop. The gunman, still standing by the front door of his house, just stared at him incredulously as Gage checked the officer out. Johnny moved to the other side of the cop, his back now only two feet away from Bill, who continued to keep his gun aimed at Johnny's head. The paramedic busied himself applying pressure to the cop's leg wound to try to stop the blood loss. As he worked, Gage peered up to the side, trying to see what Bill was doing. He noticed the gunman looked stunned, as though he were wondering what he should do next. After a couple minutes, Johnny knew he had to make his move. It was now or never. With lightning speed, shocking all who watched from behind the safety of the emergency vehicles, suddenly Johnny stood up, quickly taking the suspect by surprise, knocking the shotgun out of his hand. Gage pushed him down roughly and jumped on top of him, trying to keep Bill's hands away from his jeans, where he held two other weapons. For a moment the two struggled, Bill making great attempts to reach one of his pistols, but Johnny coming out the victor, pinning the man down on the porch on his stomach, holding his right arm securely behind his back, and stepping on his left hand with his boot. Bill was spitting obscenities at the young paramedic, who was sitting on top of him, as several cops ran up to the house to make the arrest. As Bill was led away in handcuffs, struggling with the three police officers walking with him, he glared at Johnny. "You son of a bitch! I'm going to get you! You lied to me! I'm going to kill you, you miserable lying bastard!" he swore at the paramedic. Johnny ignored Bill's verbal threats and knelt down beside the injured police officer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He seemed totally oblivious to what he had just done and the unnecessary risks he had taken. "You're going to be okay. I'm gonna go get some equipment. I'll be right back." Gage turned to leave, but the cop grabbed his hand. "That was incredible," he started, wincing in pain. Johnny looked at him quizzically. "What?" "What you did, tackling him like that." "Hey, it wasn't no big thing. Just take it easy," Johnny replied as Chet, Cap, Marco and Dwyer raced over to join them on the porch. They could hear the sounds of an ambulance siren, just rounding the street corner and approaching their location. "Yes it was a big deal. You...saved alot of people's lives...that was one of the bravest things I've ever seen...hey, if you ever get tired of being a fireman, I can put in a good word for you to be a cop." Johnny said nothing as he grabbed the compresses from the medical boxes Dwyer and Chet had brought with them. Dwyer set up the biophone for communications with Rampart and informed Johnny that the woman, although shaken, was okay. They received instruction from Dr. Morton to start an IV with ringers lactate and apply sterile compresses on the police officer's leg wound. They also gave him ten milligrams of morphine for the pain. After the cop was put in the ambulance with Dwyer for the ride to Rampart, Johnny was busy cleaning up and putting the equipment back in the squad, when Captain Stanley walked stealthily over to him. The senior fire officer watched his paramedic silently for a moment, his mind having trouble dealing with exactly what he was going to say to him. Johnny was completely irrational, maybe he had lost his mind. Cap was afraid of what to say. "Gage," Hank said finally, in an authoritarian's voice. "Yeah, Cap?" Johnny replied casually, still putting supplies away, his back to his superior. "John, turn around. We need to talk." Johnny turned to face him. The Captain glanced into his medic's eyes, his face, seeing a sadness he had never before seen in those brilliant dark eyes, an almost pained look exposed on the exotic facial features. This man was not his Johnny. This man before him was depressed, afraid, lost, mentally in pain. Cap knew he had to intervene. "Johnny, your actions here today with the gunman were totally out of line. You had absolutely no business walking up to that man the way you did. You could have gotten yourself  killed." "But it didn't happen that way, Cap. Everything worked out well," Johnny replied in calm, even tones, scaring his captain with his cool, nonchalant behaviour. Damn, everything worked out too well... "Look, pal, when you get back from Rampart, I want you in my office, on the double. Got it?" "Yes, sir," Gage replied in a voice Cap thought sounded edged with sarcasm. He watched the paramedic get into the squad and drive away. Then Hank joined the rest of his men in the engine as they headed back for the station. Mike backed the engine into the bay and Captain Stanley descended from the truck, heading immediately for his office. He sat down in his chair and tapped the top of his desk with his fingertips. For a while, he thought about Gage's demeanor over the past couple shifts. He did not want to threaten his paramedic, but was beginning to think he needed help. Hank was now afraid that Johnny's actions and lack of interest in his own personal safety would cause harm to himself, or possibly someone else. Cap knew that he had to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Gage and gingerly picked up the phone to call Roy at Rampart. If anyone would be able to help him understand what was going on with Johnny, Cap was only too aware that it would be his senior paramedic, a man who knew Johnny better than anyone. He was still speaking to DeSoto when the squad pulled into the bay. Dwyer made a beeline towards the kitchen, knowing his temporary partner had some explaining to do. Gage walked stealthily over to the Captain's office, hesitating as he heard him speak. "So, there's definitely a problem?...Yeah...a few times. There was a fire...oh, Dwyer told you that. Well, you know, he's just about put me into cardiac arrest a couple of times with his behaviour...Right. I'm afraid he's gonna get himself killed... I don't know, he's just not our Johnny... Depressed. Angry. Quiet. Keeps to himself when we're not out on a run...Uh huh. I think it's best...uh huh. Thanks, Roy. I'll call Dr. Brackett to let him know I'll be sending him over to Rampart after shift in the morning. Take care of yourself, Roy." Johnny walked into the office as he heard Cap hang up the phone. The paramedic had an agonizing look of distress on his face. Jesus, now what the hell is going on? "Sit down, John," Cap replied, pointing to a seat. He spoke in a tone not of anger, but one with compassion towards a man he believed was ill. Johnny was about to decline the chair, but knowing he was in trouble, thought better of it, and did as Hank ordered. "John, it's no secret to anyone you've been...ah, acting strangely out of character lately. I've spoken to some people and we're all in agreement. You seem to, for some reason, have some kind of a death wish for yourself, and well, frankly, I won't stand for it any longer." Cap looked at Gage's face and what he saw truly upset him. Johnny was about to speak, in protest and denial, but Hank stopped him. "Just listen for a minute, Johnny. I know everything. About how messed up you are and the guilt you are still feeling, blaming yourself for Roy getting injured. Well, it was not your fault, pal. No one ever blamed you," Stanley replied, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Johnny looked down, fighting the lump in his throat. He then glanced sadly at his captain. "I blame me," he replied in a soft, sullen voice. "John, pal, it was lucky that you didn't come out of that warehouse when I told you to, because both you and Roy would be dead. You'd've never made it through the ceiling and wall cave-in destroyed by the explosion. You were close enough to it that Roy got injured, but yet far enough away to not get killed. It was just luck, you did the right thing and you have to stop beating yourself up over this." "Cap, that wasn't my decision to make! I...I just keep thinking what if Roy had died because of me, how would I ever be able to face his wife, his kids? I...it came so close! He...he's my best friend, and look what I did to him!  I mean, I deserve for something bad to happen to me. I deserve to be punished for this, Cap," Johnny replied quietly, staring down at the floor, feeling smothered by the guilt from within. Hank Stanley could not believe what he was hearing. Johnny was practically admitting he wanted to be hurt or killed. Cap saw the paramedic's eyes growing moist. "Johnny, I was going to wait until the end of the shift, but I think I'm going to put you under temporary suspension right now. I'm ordering you to go to Rampart and report to Dr. Brackett immediately to be checked if you are fit for duty." At Cap's words, Gage's eyes widened in horror. "What?" he shouted, pounding the desk top with his fist, not believing what his superior was forcing him to do. Cap winced at the sudden display of aggression from his paramedic, but forced himself to remain calm. "You heard me, John. I have serious doubts that you are capable of performing your duties here. I'm suspending you until I get a complete medical report from Dr. Brackett on you." Anger was now building up inside the paramedic. He was quickly becoming irrational. "Cap! Suspension?! You can't do this to me!" he yelled, standing up and pushing the chair a good four feet away from him. "Gage, you are to give me your badge and drive out to see Dr. Brackett immediately. And that's an order," Cap muttered firmly, holding out his hand. As the fire captain watched his paramedic's rapidly deteriorating behaviour, his heart ached. Hank had never seen Gage like this and he knew he must be seriously troubled. Johnny glared at the man momentarily, and then, reluctantly, tore off his badge and dropped it on the captain's desk. "Cap, I am perfectly fit for duty. You'll see. I'll get that report for you and then you're going to see how wrong you are." With that, Johnny turned on his heels, heading abruptly out of the station to the back parking lot. He didn't even bother to say goodbye or change out of his uniform. Cap shook his head sadly, then picked up the phone. He had to call in a replacement for his troubled, junior paramedic and cancel the squad's responses until one arrived. Outside, Johnny jumped angrily into his Land Rover, quickly tearing out of the parking lot. He was overwhelmed with emotions. Anger, guilt, sadness and self-hatred distracted his thoughts. As he recklessly made his way out onto the street, at a high rate of speed, he did not notice a slow moving tractor trailer suddenly switch lanes right in front of him. The driver of the tractor trailer had not seen Gage pull out from the fire station. By the time he realized what was about to happen it was too late for him to do anything. Johnny braced himself for a crushing impact with the trailer. Still on the phone inside the station, Captain Stanley was startled to hear the loud noises of tires screeching and metal crunching, followed by a sickening loud crash. He dropped the phone and ran out of his office to take a look. The rest of the crew had heard it too, and were now joining him out front of the station. The men's jaws dropped momentarily and their hearts began to race at the sight just up the road from them. "Marco, go call this in and get another squad, police and an ambulance. Dwyer, come with me, let's check out the victims. Chet, grab an inch and a half, there's gasoline leaking from that transport truck." Hurriedly, the men jumped into action. They went first to check the driver of the tractor trailer, who appeared to be not too seriously injured. He was shaken as they helped him out of the cab of his truck. Dwyer checked him over while Marco and Mike raced to Johnny's Land Rover. The front end of it was quite demolished, and was crumpled up like an accordion right in the back of the trailer. They struggled with Johnny's driver's door, but it would not budge. Marco ran around to the passenger side door and after a couple minutes managed to pry it open. Cap was trying to disperse the small crowd of people who had stopped to watch all the activity in the street just a ways up from the fire station. Chet was washing down the gasoline around the tractor, while Dwyer Fitzpatrick rushed in to aid Johnny. Dwyer entered the badly damaged vehicle, quickly assessing the situation, his heart sinking. Johnny was lying unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel, blood covering most of his upper body.  Dwyer noticed with disdain that he was not wearing his seatbelt. The paramedic reached for Gage's wrist, checking for a pulse, relieved to find one, although it was weak. He gently lifted the injured man's head and shoulders, careful to not aggravate his back in the event John had suffered spinal injuries. Dwyer checked Johnny's pupillary responses, horrified when he discovered the unconscious young man was pinned under the steering wheel and dashboard of his vehicle. Dwyer made attempts to free Johnny, but realized he needed help. "Cap! I'm gonna need the K12 and Jaws - he's pinned in here real tight! Also, bring me the O2 and a C-collar, along with the trauma box and biophone," Fitzpatrick yelled over, his voice shaky. It was always difficult to retain your composure when you were working on one of your own. "You got it! Hey, do you think you can handle this by yourself, Dwyer?" Cap Stanley asked as he moved quickly over to Gage's wrecked vehicle. "Yeah, the driver of the transport truck is not hurt. I can handle Johnny once we get him outta here." As Cap trotted up the driveway towards the squad and engine, he got on his handy talkie and cancelled Squad 45, which had been dispatched to the incident after Marco had put in the call for help. He pulled out the equipment, aided by Marco, who had come to help him and the two ran back up the road to the accident scene. Mike Stoker used the jaws of life to pry open Johnny's driver's door. When that was done, he started the K12 and began to break away the dashboard and steering wheel that held Johnny tightly, all the while trying to remain professional. The rest of the men waited, holding their breath. A police cruiser arrived at the scene and Cap directed the officer to the transport truck driver, who was sitting at the curb, still upset by what had happened. The cop was telling the crowd of people who were hanging around, to back up and stay off the street. They were watching the firefighters attempting to extricate Johnny.  Finally, the work was completed and the men were able to remove Gage from the wreckage. They laid him on a backboard and placed him gently down on the grass next to the curbside. He was still unconscious. Dwyer took the hapless paramedic's vitals, while Chet Kelly, finished with hosing down the street, got on the biophone to Rampart. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?" Kelly asked, in a noticeably shaky voice, holding the phone and glancing very worriedly over at Johnny. Dr. Early's voice was heard answering. "51, we read you loud and clear, go ahead." "Rampart, we have a 28 year old paramedic, victim of a car accident. Stand by for vitals." At the hospital, Dr. Early frowned, and glanced at Dixie who was standing next to him. Dr. Brackett was speaking on the other receiver to Squad 36, who was sending him an EKG strip of their patient. But he heard the call from Squad 51 and his lip twitched as it always did when he was concerned. The three were brought out of their momentary reverie as they heard Chet's voice again. "Rampart, vitals are - pulse 60, slow and weak. Respirations, 24, labored with wheezing and rawls heard in the right lung. BP is 100 over 60. Victim is unconscious, pupils are both dilated and do not respond to light. Rampart, be advised the victim is John Gage." Dixie, Dr. Early and Dr. Brackett all breathed deep sighs upon hearing this and the worry was clearly written on their faces. Back at the scene, the police officer had finished speaking to the transport truck driver and walked over to where Dwyer was just starting an IV on Johnny. The cop winced, noticing the blood on the victim. It was then that he realized the young man was a firefighter. "Hey, is he one of  you?" the officer asked, pulling out his notebook again. He received a nod for an answer from Cap. "Do you know what happened? How come he was driving that jeep over there?" Cap walked over to the cop, and pulled him away as Dwyer continued to work on Gage. Hank knew he had to tell the police officer what he could. "Well, officer, his name is John Gage and he works here with us at Station 51. He was driving his own car because I had...just suspended him." The cop looked at Cap sharply. "You suspended him? Why?" "I wanted him to go to Rampart for a check-up. He had been under alot of stress lately and had not been himself. He nearly got himself shot on a call we'd had this morning." The police officer stared at Hank, then a look of recognition crossed over his face. "Hey, he isn't the guy who walked up to that madman with the shotgun, you know the guy who was holding his wife hostage and had shot one of our officers?" Hank nodded again. The cop glanced over at Johnny again as the ambulance could be heard coming down the street. "Hey, we heard all about him already. What he did for everyone back there." Captain Stanley shook his head. "Well, his behaviour was irrational and I had no choice but to suspend him for it. I'm afraid he didn't take the news too well." "You don't think...maybe he purposely caused this accident to happen?" the policeman asked, the possibility Johnny was not mentally well crossing his mind. Cap looked at his injured paramedic, still unconscious. He had been thinking the same thing, but he did not answer the cop. They walked closer towards Johnny, watching as Chet helped Dwyer put the anti-shock trousers on him. "Hey, is he gonna be okay?" the officer asked, concerned. Dwyer looked over to him, still working on Gage. He put a compress over the dark haired paramedic's forehead, which was bleeding profusely. "Don't know, he's bad. Real bad," Dwyer muttered as he watched the ambulance stop near them and the attendants get out. "How bad?" Cap asked, fearing that this accident was no accident. He couldn't get the feeling that Johnny had purposely caused this to happen out of his mind. "Well, Cap, he's got a bad head injury. Some pretty serious cuts from the glass and metal. Chest injuries, probable broken ribs, internal bleeding. I'm ah...very worried, Cap," Dwyer admitted. Hank was at a loss for words. As he looked down at his fallen paramedic, he shuddered. Johnny has to be okay he thought as the ambulance attendants lifted Gage up, placed him on a gurney and loaded him in for the drive to Rampart. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The doctors worked steadily on Johnny in Emergency at Rampart, trying to stabilize him. They suspected he had damaged his liver and was bleeding internally and that he would require surgery to fix it. He had sustained two broken ribs, one which had punctured his right lung, causing more bleeding and difficulty in breathing. They had had to put him on a respirator to help him breathe. He had massive bruising on his chest where the steering wheel had struck him and numerous cuts and abrasions on his upper body. One cut on his left shoulder was so bad that it required several stitches, which Dr. Brackett did himself, once they had his vitals stabilized and while they waited for the OR to become available. But it was his head injury they were most worried about. After all this time, the paramedic still lay comatose and did not wake up at all before being taken up to the operating room. While they waited for news on Johnny, Chet rushed to Roy's room to let him know the current events concerning his partner. DeSoto was stunned to hear what had happened and immediately wanted to get out of bed to see him. But Chet told him Johnny was just being taken up to surgery and it would be quite some time before they would know anything. Reluctantly, Roy sat back down in his bed to wait, but his concern and impatience regarding his young partner's status was evident. Roy got on the phone and called his wife, Joanne, while he waited, and she hurried to the hospital, knowing Roy needed her support. Upon her arrival at Rampart and before she went to see her husband, Joanne stopped to talk to Dixie first, who quietly informed her that Johnny was critical. Joanne's heart sank as she spoke to the head nurse and noticed a tear slip from Dixie's eye. They don't expect him to make it. How am I going to tell Roy? Joanne felt her own eyes welling up and her throat ached as she walked into Roy's room, a trip she had made many times now, for several days. But this time it was different, this time she knew that her husband's best friend might die and she was extremely afraid now. When Roy had been hurt, somehow knowing Johnny had been with him and had saved him made her feel confident that Roy would be fine and she had not totally freaked out when she had arrived at the hospital the first time that day. Joanne also knew that with Johnny now being so critically injured, the fact that Roy had not been there to help him would cause great grief and despair to her husband. And, after speaking to Dixie, Joanne was very afraid that this time the man she considered a brother had used up all nine of his lives and would not survive. Get a grip, he'll know it's serious if he see's you crying, the young woman chastised herself as she walked towards Roy. She tried to force herself to calm down, but the moment her eyes locked on Roy's she lost it and the tears fell freely. She went to her husband's side and buried her head in his chest. Roy let her sob for a moment, holding back his own emotions. Did Joanne know something he didn't? Finally, DeSoto lifted his wife's head, forcing her to tell him exactly what was going on. He stared into her watery eyes and tear-stained face, demanding answers, but not saying a word. He didn't have to, Joanne clearly understood. "Roy, I talked to Dixie before I came up here. Johnny is...," she couldn't talk and began to cry again, leaving Roy no choice but to assume the worst possible scenerio had happened. He visibly paled and his whole body started to shake involuntarily, smothered with grief. "No! He's not...he can't be...dead?" DeSoto stammered, stunned, unable to breathe. Joanne shook her head, still crying. "No, Roy, he's not. Not yet. But Dixie told me how bad he really is. He might not make it. She told me he was in a coma before they took him to surgery. I'm so worried...so is Dixie..." "So are we," a voice replied sadly, behind them, coming in through the door. The DeSoto's turned and glanced up to see Captain Stanley, Marco, Mike, Chet and Dwyer standing in the room, all with glum, worried expressions on their faces. Joanne, feeling this was a private moment between the crewmembers, quietly excused herself and left the room, in search of solace, and attempted to pull herself together. "Cap?" Roy whispered, fighting the lump that had formed in his throat. "We just heard they're almost finished the surgery. Dr. Brackett is on his way in here. We thought it would be easier to just be here...," Chet replied, shifting nervously back and forth, a very concerned expression on his face. "Roy, after we spoke on the phone earlier, well, I just have to ask...do you think...do you think it is at all possible that Johnny might have caused this to happen...on purpose?" Cap asked, softly. DeSoto glanced at all the men surrounding his bed. He tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall from his now very reddened eyes. That possibility just hadn't entered his mind, but now it seemed a very realistic conclusion. "I...I just don't know, Cap. He's been in a bad state of mind since I got in here. I...I just can't say for sure," the senior paramedic fought to get the words out. "Johnny may have been messed up, but I know he would never do anything that could cause injury to another person, no matter what his state of mind," Chet spoke up, answering defiantly in Gage's defence. "Look, pal, I know this is difficult, but we've all been witness to John's strange behaviour for the past week or so. We all saw how he risked his neck needlessly both at that house fire and car accident, and then again this morning at the hostage incident," Hank spoke concernedly. Roy glanced up quickly at his captain's statement. He had not heard about the latest abnormal Johnny situation. "Cap, what are you talking about? What hostage incident?" he asked, frowning. Stanley scratched the side of his face. "We responded to a call this morning, first thing. It was a guy with a sawed-off shotgun, holed up in his house. A cop who went up to the house, ended up getting shot in the leg. The guy was nuts, he had his arm wrapped around his wife's neck, and threatened to kill her.  He was shooting the gun and had two more guns in his belt. We all took cover behind the engine and squad and waited for the police to do something so we could help the victims. But instead of waiting, well, Johnny, he just...," Cap sighed and hesitating, took a deep breath, noticing the expectant look on DeSoto's face. "What, Cap? What did Johnny do?" Roy demanded, leaning forward a bit in his bed, watching how the other men seemed to go very quiet. "Well, Roy, before anyone could stop him, he just walked up to the guy," Hank replied, honestly. "He what?" Roy asked, shocked, not thinking he heard Cap correctly. "He walked up to the guy and just asked him to let the woman go and he did. It was really amazing. And then he went up the porch and started to treat the cop who had gotten shot. All the while, the guy had the sawed-off shotgun pointed at Gage's head." "I can't believe this, no, that can't be right. Johnny would never put himself in that kind of danger," Roy said, shaking his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait, Cap hasn't told you the best part," Chet Kelly replied, earning a look of sternness from his superior. Roy was stunned. There was more? "What else? Tell me everything," DeSoto practically ordered. Chet continued. "Well, after a couple minutes, he just stood up and tackled the guy to the ground. He pinned him down and held him there until the other cops could run up and arrest the guy. It was incredible. We thought he'd get himself killed, but he pulled it off and everything worked out." Cap shook his head sadly. "The worst part is I honestly don't think he cared that he might have been killed. I think he went up there, hoping he would get shot. His attitude was like, it's nothing. He wasn't rational. He wasn't thinking that he could be making a fatal mistake. Which takes us back to his so-called accident. I mean, he slammed head on into the back of a tractor trailer. He'd have to have known that the driver wouldn't be injured, at least not seriously," Hank finished. Roy shook his head, still bewildered by hearing all this. "No, Cap. Johnny may have wanted to hurt himself, but I agree with Chet. There's no way he'd ever risk hurting someone else." Just then the door opened and Joanne walked in with Dr. Brackett. They all stared at him for a moment, taking note of the serious expression on his face. "Gentlemen," the doctor began. He was almost knocked over by the six voices instantly asking "how is he?" all at the same time. Kel breathed in deeply, hesitating, thinking in his mind how much Johnny was loved. These men had always been fiercely protective of him, and they were going to take the news he had to give them very hard. Dr. Brackett continued. "Well, he made it through the surgery okay. We were able to stop the hemorraghing and repair both his liver and the lung damaged by the broken rib. But he has some problems, one is that he has developed pneumonia, this being a complication from his smoke inhalation injury of last week. We performed a bronchoscopy, done through an endotracheal tube and the damage to the airway is extensive, and there is fluid in his lungs. So he is on heavy doses of medication which we hope will fix it before it gets worse and possibly becomes life threatening. But remember, he is in a weakened state, so it is very much touch and go. We have him on a respirator still, and because of the surgery and damage to his lung from the broken rib, as well as the pneumonia, he will need it to help him breathe for at least another day or so. There's also one other problem that has us worried. It's the head injury he sustained in the automobile crash. He finally woke up briefly in the recovery room and um...," Kel hesitated, lip twitching, staring at Roy whose eyes widened in fear. "What, Doc? What is it? Tell us!" DeSoto ordered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "We're not sure yet how serious his head injury is. I'm hopeful that it is just a concussion, but we can't rule out intercranial bleeding or hematoma. But his memory has been affected, he can't remember a thing about being in the accident. And it's...his eyes...Joanne, gentlemen...Johnny can't see." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny helped Roy up onto the horse, smiling, happy that his best friend appeared to be enjoying something that he loved. He mounted his own animal and the two of them rode into the meadow. He took in the beautiful mountains and green grass, breathed the clean, fragrant air and felt great peace sweep over him. The dark-haired paramedic urged his horse into a gallop and easily passed Roy. Johnny could feel the warm wind blowing through his hair and the sun on his face. He had never felt better. Johnny looked back and suddenly noticed that Roy's horse was without it's rider. Frowning, he turned his mount and galloped back towards it, calling his friend's name, afraid when he heard no answer. As he approached the other horse, Johnny looked down in disdain, noticing Roy lying in a heap on the grass. Instantly he flew off his horse and was at DeSoto's side, grabbing frantically for a wrist, but already knowing. Roy had no pulse and his face had turned an alarming shade of blue. Johnny screamed "NO!" and jumped on his stallion, urging it to run as fast as was possible. He kept running, the horror of how he had just killed Roy replaying in his mind, like a broken record, over and over. His eyes filled with tears. It was all his fault Roy was dead, he should never have taken the novice rider out and not stayed with him the entire time. He had wanted to gallop his horse and in doing so, his selfishness had caused his best friend's death. Still running at an incredible rate of speed, Johnny knew the edge of the cliff was approaching quickly. But he never slowed the horse. It kept galloping. He felt himself falling over the cliff, saw the jagged rocks below and knew the end had come... Johnny was sweating and fighting the respirator that was breathing for him. He had an expression of terror in his eyes and had he been able to see, would have noticed the fear that crossed over Dixie's face as she struggled to calm him down. He was jostling about, not seeing and barely hearing the nurse as she spoke to him as soothingly as she could. "Johnny, it's Dixie. You have to calm down. You've been in a car accident and you have a tube down your throat. Please don't fight the ventilator. It is helping you breathe. Johnny, please calm down," she replied, trying to even her frantic tones, rubbing his arms gently. After a minute, the medic appeared less stressed, and saddened, Dixie watched as he opened and closed his eyes repeatedly. She held him for a moment, knowing he would remember and realize he could not see and that he would again be overwhelmed by fear. Dixie brushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes and, holding his hand, sat down next to him. "Johnny, listen to me. You have a concussion and it's affecting your vision. But you're going to be all right. I promise you, everything is going to be all right," Dixie stated in a warm tenderness, her heart breaking over Gage's predicament. The fearful look on his face slowly left, his sightless eyes closed, and he was asleep once again. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Hours later, Roy was alone in his room, worried half to death. After receiving the shocking news of Johnny's injuries, realizing there was nothing they could do and that the paramedic would not be allowed visitors for some time, everyone else had left. Amongst everything else, Roy was taking the news of his younger partner's loss of vision extremely hard. Knowing that he would not be able to see Johnny for a while also played on his nerves and after a few hours of being left to worry and wonder, DeSoto could stand it no longer. He reached for his room alarm and when a nurse entered to ask what he needed, Roy demanded to see Dr. Brackett. The young student nurse hurried off to find the doctor, but he was busy with a patient and Roy had to wait. When Kel finally entered Roy's room two hours later, the senior paramedic was clearly upset. "Doc, how's Johnny? Can I see him yet?" Roy asked, pleadingly, then blanched as he realized what he'd said. Dr. Brackett looked at Roy. He had been busy with other patients all afternoon and had not really looked in much at Johnny. He knew his condition was still critical and that he had been lapsing in and out of consciousness. He went to make a phone call to get more details on Gage and then returned to an excessively anxious Roy DeSoto. "Well, there's really no change. He seems to be fighting within himself, he has been waking up for momentary short periods and the nurses report having to hold him down. Of course, with the ventilator, he can't communicate, so the fear of not being able to see, must be upsetting him when he does wake up. He's still fresh from the surgery, hopefully we'll see some improvement tomorrow, but I'm sorry to inform you that he is still on the critical list right now." Roy stared down, glumly. "Doc, what about his eyes? Is the blindness temporary or...permanent?" "Again, I'm sorry, Roy, but it's too soon to tell. But listen, I've gone over your recovery chart and you seem to be doing just fine. I'm going to release you tomorrow. You'll need to stay at home to re-coup for a couple of weeks while your leg heals, then we'll get you back here to remove the cast and you'll have to go for some physical therapy. But your kidney looks great and I'm pleased with the progress you've made. You should be back to work within a month." Roy was barely listening as the doctor spoke, instead concentrating on his concerns for his partner. It was obvious to Dr. Brackett and he shook his head as he made his way towards the door. These two paramedics are the same breed, both more worried about the other than themselves. Roy glanced over as Kel walked away. "Dr. Brackett? When can I see Johnny?" Brackett stopped and turned back towards his patient. "Not today. I'm afraid he's pretty much out of it. Possibly tomorrow, I'll let you know then." Reading Roy's mind, the doctor smiled weakly. "And I'll keep you updated on any changes in Johnny's condition." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The next day couldn't come fast enough for Roy. He had trouble sleeping that evening, tossing and turning, worried about his partner, wanting to be there with him and frustrated that he couldn't be. Roy could not imagine what Johnny must be going through, to be blinded and injured and not even know why, or remember how it happened. DeSoto's heart ached and he wished there was something he could do. He also worried that because Johnny's condition was still serious that he might not even survive. As well, thoughts of Johnny's accident being self inflicted found their way into Roy's troubled mind. If this had been an intentional act, and had Johnny truly been attempting to kill himself, then that opened up a whole new set of problems for the young paramedic. He would have to undergo extensive psycho-therapy and possible hospitalization if it were found that he had indeed become suicidal. Roy cringed and felt the lump in his throat growing larger, knowing that this could very possibly put an end to Johnny's career as a firefighter/paramedic. Roy became increasingly alarmed. He couldn't stand the thought of his best friend having to go through this. The very idea of losing Johnny as a partner this way was overwhelming and his mind filled with painful thoughts. Junior, please say it isn't so. You can't have caused this to happen on purpose! Why didn't I see you were having such serious problems? I shouldn't have written you off so quickly. I should have called Cap and told him what I thought the minute I felt you might be trying to harm yourself.  I knew you were drunk when you called me here. You must have been so messed up, I could have possibly prevented this. If only I had really discussed your feelings with you, rather than dismiss you so quickly. No wonder you were feeling the way you did. I wasn't much of a friend to you. I'm sorry, Johnny. Please tell me you weren't trying to commit suicide. Please be all right, Johnny. Now it was Roy's turn to feel guilty. He was a trained medical professional and he had let his best friend down. And now, Johnny was fighting for his life. Tossing again, fighting the tears that were erupting from his eyes, Roy suddenly sat up straight in bed. He saw someone walk past his room and yelled out. The surprised young student nurse entered his room. "What's the matter, Mr. DeSoto?" she asked, looking into Roy's saddened face. "I want to know how my partner, John Gage, is doing." "Sir, it's four o'clock in the morning. I think you should get some sleep. If you like, I'll ask the doctor if you can have a sleeping pill." "I don't want a sleeping pill, I want to know how my partner is doing!" Roy shouted. The nurse, stunned by the anger in his voice, hurried off to find details regarding Johnny. She returned several minutes later and, as Roy had suspected, informed the fair-haired medic that Gage was sleeping. DeSoto finally fell asleep, but his last thoughts were of Johnny. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Dr. Brackett released Roy from the hospital the next morning, as promised, with orders for him to rest and take it easy for the next two weeks. Roy agreed and then as Kel knew he would, asked about Johnny. "We removed the respirator this morning and he is breathing on his own, with an oxygen mask. He's still drifting in and out of consciousness and I'm sorry to say that the pneumonia in his lungs is not improving yet. But it may take a couple more days for the medication to kick in, and in his weakened state that may, unfortunately, prove to be too long. If he doesn't improve soon, I'm afraid the pneumonia just might kill him. Right now, however, the surgery looks good and it doesn't appear that he is experiencing any infection or other complications from that. And Roy, when he is out of the woods, we are going to have to have a long talk with him about his recent behaviour and struggle with depression. He may not remember being in the accident, but maybe he can remember what happened before, how he was feeling, what was on his mind. We have to come to some type of conclusion on his mental state, before he will ever be released to go back to active duty." Granted, that is, he lives through this and regains his eyesight. Kel looked into Roy's eyes, and the serious expression on the doctor's face did not get past him. The senior paramedic shuddered, knowing that this was going to be extremely difficult for Johnny to endure, provided he fully recovered from his injuries. "I know, Doc. And I'll be glad to help in any way I can," Roy replied, earnestly. Dixie McCall entered Roy's room, smiling a weak smile that just did not meet her beautiful eyes. She was pushing a wheelchair and looked at Roy, her face pale and serious. "Well, I see you're not quite ready to leave yet. But you get dressed, and give me a ring when you are. I've called Joanne, and she'll be here in a little while. Oh, and by the way, there's a young paramedic downstairs in ICU who's awake and has been asking about you," the nurse replied. Dixie and Kel left as Roy dressed. It was difficult to maneuver his casted leg into his pants, but he did so, hurrying so that he could see Johnny. He rang for Dixie and after gathering his belongings up, she helped him into the wheelchair and accompanied him to Gage's room in the intensive care unit. She left him alone outside the ICU door with instructions to stay only a few minutes. Apprehensively, Roy sat outside, knocking, waiting until an ICU nurse allowed him to enter. He was anxious to see his partner, needing to know for himself exactly how Johnny was doing. He was not totally prepared for what he saw. Gage was lying in the bed, an IV in each of his wrists, and an oxygen mask over his sweat-glistened face. As Roy approached, he could hear the dark-haired medic's labored breathing and wheezing sounds. He saw a tube hooked on the side of him, draining the fluids out of his chest. Johnny's dark hair was disheveled and he was staring blankly straight ahead, a lost, empty look on his pale face. Roy's heart broke as he wheeled his chair in beside the bed. "Johnny?" DeSoto asked softly. He watched as Gage's head swivelled towards the sound of the voice and noticed the brown eyes did not focus on his blue ones. Instead, the dark-haired paramedic was staring a couple of feet away from Roy, his unseeing eyes jumping around, frantic for vision that would not come. Roy breathed in a deep sigh of sadness. "Roy, is that you?" Johnny asked in a small, hoarse voice. "Yeah, it's me, partner. How're you feeling?" "Sore...and scared...but better now that you're here. No one's really told me what happened, do you know, Roy? I can't remember a thing." Roy could hear distinct wheezing coming from his partner's chest as he watched Johnny feeling around, apparently looking for something. "What do you need, Junior?" the older medic asked, immediately coming to Gage's aid. "I had a glass of water here somewhere. I...I can't find it now," John replied, dejectedly, feeling helpless and embarrassed. "Here it is," Roy said, holding the paper cup and straw up to Johnny's lips, watching the frightening blank stare and desperately wishing he could do something. Not wanting to be babied, Johnny took the cup from Roy's hand and went to put it on the table he knew was beside him, but he missed and jumped slightly as he heard it fall to the floor with a splash. "Dammit!" Gage swore, the frustration growing inside him. "I can't even put a cup on a damn table!" His eyebrows crossed in anger and the wheezing worsened. Roy could see from Johnny's perspiring face that he must have a fever, presumably from the pneumonia that was not yet showing signs of improving. "Easy, Johnny," Roy soothed, at a momentary loss to say anything else. He placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, shocked at how hot Johnny felt. "Roy, I...I'm scared. I'm really scared. I can't see anything. The darkness is swallowing me up and smothering me!" Gage cried out, suddenly, then regretting it as his outburst left him coughing uncontrollably. His face was etched in pain and there was nothing Roy could do but hold a pillow next to his chest. The nurse came over, adjusted the oxygen flow, and whispered to Roy that he could stay only two more minutes. "Easy, Johnny, I'm here. I'm here, you're gonna be all right," Roy said quietly, in an effort to comfort himself as much as Gage. He held his partner's hand tightly until the redness left Johnny's face and the coughing subsided and watched as Johnny's eyes resumed staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. DeSoto's heart sank. He couldn't even imagine what Johnny must be going through. "Johnny, do you remember anything about the accident?" Roy asked, watching his partner's every move in an attempt to come to a conclusion about how the crash had happened. DeSoto knew time was tight and he would have to get going, but he was hoping that he would be able to see for himself whether or not Gage had purposely caused the accident in an effort to do himself harm. Gage thought for a moment and Roy hoped that whatever he would say would not be a lie. The older medic was certain he would be able to tell if his friend was telling him the truth or not and he held his breath, waiting for Johnny to speak. "No, not really, I just can't recall. I do remember talking to Cap in his office. And...he...he suspended me, Roy. He suspended me. I had to...he made me give him...my badge. He said I was...," Johnny hesitated, trying to control the anger that was building up inside him and the guilt that was flooding through him at the same time. He laid his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes. "What, Johnny? What did Cap say?" Roy asked gently, knowing what had happened between the two, but wanting his friend to open up and talk. Johnny leaned up slightly, staring straight past Roy, only imagining where the older man was sitting. His voice was shaky as he spoke. "He said...I was...suicidal. And that I needed Brackett to assess me to determine if I was fit for duty," he muttered, anger evident. Roy looked straight at his partner, hating himself for asking, but knowing he had to. He had to hear it from Johnny. "And are you?" DeSoto asked softly, blinking hard in an effort to stop his eyes from watering. "What? Am I what?" Gage demanded, on edge. "Suicidal," Roy whispered, his voice wavering, staring at his partner intently, determined to read him correctly no matter what answer he gave. Roy expected Johnny to immediately burst out and deny it. But the dark-haired paramedic never said a word, just turned his head away so that DeSoto could not look at him and see the obvious. "Johnny, please talk to me. I want to help you. You know that, right? Please tell me the truth. Did you purposely cause that accident hoping that maybe...you'd be killed?" Roy's voice was raspy with emotion and he was only moments away from losing it. He stood up out of the wheelchair as best he could on his casted leg and grabbed Johnny's shoulders forcing him to turn his head towards him. The look of anguish on the younger man's face told DeSoto what he'd feared. He saw a single tear fall from Johnny's eye and slide down his cheek. In immediate reaction, Roy's eyes began to water and his throat ached. He wanted to talk more, had to get this out into the open, but the ICU nurse approached him. "Two minutes was up five minutes ago," she said and helped Roy turn his wheelchair around. DeSoto looked back at his injured partner, the blank stare and the anguish on the face causing his heart to skip a beat. How could this have happened to you, Junior? "Johnny, I have to go now, but I'll be back later. You rest now, take care of yourself and we'll talk again. You're gonna be all right, I promise. We're gonna get through this," Roy replied, sincerely. Johnny bit his lip and did not answer. He didn't know how he would ever get through this. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny slept fitfully that evening, his mind embroiled with bitter thoughts. Although he still suffered from the blindness and symptoms of his pneumonia, he did not care. He was exhausted and weak, and when the sleep overpowered him, he was still haunted by nightmares. And he slept often. But during his waking moments, Gage was consumed by his thoughts of self ineptitude and he hated it. He was aware now that Roy knew he had wanted himself to be injured and believed that DeSoto must think he was mentally unstable. He tried to rationalize everything, but the pain he felt inside stubbornly refused to leave. Gage still felt great guilt and anguish about Roy's having been injured, and even though the older man was perfectly fine, that didn't matter. It all boiled down to the one phrase that he had repeated to himself a thousand times - you nearly killed your best friend. The despondent paramedic didn't know what to do. He knew that he couldn't go on living with the guilt and depression and being overwhelmed by the feelings of self-loathing he had for himself. He didn't know how to make those feelings go away. And now he was suffering from injuries he sustained in an auto crash that he couldn't even remember being in, but that everyone obviously assumed he had caused on purpose. Are they right in thinking that? Did I really crash my Rover hoping I would die? What's going to happen now? Are they going to fire me? Put me in an institution? What am I going to do? Wanting to talk to someone, realizing he had to get this out into the open, Johnny reached for and finally felt the call button. When the nurse appeared, after he rang it, and asked him what was wrong, he told her he needed to see Dr. Kelly Brackett immediately. Johnny had no idea that it was three in the morning and the nurse informed him that she would make sure Dr. Brackett would come and see him when he arrived at seven. Sighing as deeply as his chest injuries would allow, and fighting the coughing spell that erupted, Gage finally gave in to his state of exhaustion and fell asleep. The nurse took his temperature and frowned, noting on his chart that there was still no improvement in the pneumonia that was threatening to end the young paramedic's life. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy hobbled along the corridor at Rampart towards the intensive care unit. He was hating the crutches, made him feel like an invalid. His underarms ached from them and he had a mental image that once he was done with them he would chop them up and use them for firewood. And his leg itched terribly from the cast. As he entered Johnny's room, and saw the state his young partner was in, DeSoto immediately stopped feeling sorry for himself.  The older medic gasped as he saw Johnny's O2 mask had been taken away and replaced with an oxygen tent that encircled his upper body. Gage was sweating profusely and was semi-conscious, his head bobbing from side to side. Immediate concern and fear enveloped Roy as he stood next to the bed and was joined by Dr. Brackett. "Doc, what's going on? You called me to come see Johnny, I thought he was going to be all right," DeSoto stammered and plunked down in the chair beside his friend's bed. "I did call you, Roy, to come be with him. He took a turn for the worse this morning. His fever is way up, 104 degrees and I am very afraid that he may not make it. He is not responding to the medication and it has been two days. The body can only survive high temperatures like this for a limited time. I have increased the meds, but right now he needs alot of prayer. I've done everything I can for him, it's up to God now," Brackett replied, folding his arms across his chest and looking very seriously into Roy's equally concerned blue eyes. For a moment, DeSoto could not seem to digest the information Kel had just relayed to him. And then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. He suddenly felt very weak. Glancing at his best friend tossing involuntarily in the hospital bed, Roy felt the blood draining from his face. He stood up, uneasily, and turned to face Dr. Brackett, momentarily speechless with fear, unable to breathe. His jaw dropped open as he attempted to voice the words that would not come. Finally, gathering the control of himself that he had just lost, DeSoto shook his head, not wanting to believe this. "You mean...Johnny is dying?" the stunned paramedic managed to finally whisper out. Feeling he could no longer stand, Roy slumped himself once again into the chair beside Gage's bed. He had known that Johnny's condition was serious, but to now be told by the good doctor himself that his partner's struggle to survive was coming to an end and that there was nothing more they could do for him proved too much for Roy. He felt his breaths coming in short, labored gasps. Dr. Brackett saw the effects his news was having on Roy. He walked over to him quickly, afraid he may pass out. He had given the paramedic the worst possible news and now he would have to try to sugar coat it a little, for DeSoto's sake. Kel knelt next to him. "Roy, look, Johnny is still alive. He's still alive! He's always been a fighter, we both know that! The medications...look, there's still hope. Now, you have to pull yourself together, we have to be strong for Johnny. You sit here with him, for as long as you like. We're monitoring him constantly, Roy, we have to believe he'll come through this!" DeSoto glanced once again towards his partner, who was now not moving at all. He listened to the deep wheezing sounds eminating from Johnny's chest, heaving as the young man struggled to breathe. He wanted to know the truth and turned his gaze towards Kel. "Doc, how long...how much time do you think he has?" Roy asked in a husky voice, then turned his full attention back to his friend. He stared at him as he slept and did not take his eyes off him. Brackett breathed in a deep sigh, hesitating before answering DeSoto. "Roy, it's so hard to tell...I mean, with his symptoms he should have been dead an hour ago. But he's still fighting, he's still hanging on and that gives us hope that the medications we're pumping full force into him will start to have an effect very soon. Look," the doctor continued in a much quieter voice, "he's surprised us before. Let's see if he will surprise us again." Roy said nothing as he continued to keep a watchful eye on his unconscious partner. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Feeling a light touch on his shoulder brought Roy back from his slumber. After sitting with Johnny for nearly eight hours, watching protectively over him, DeSoto had fallen to sleep in the chair next to the bed, his hand numb and still resting on John's shoulder. He shook his head, guiltily, and now fully awake looked over to see that it was Chet Kelly who was standing next to him in Gage's room. Chet knelt down next to Roy, smiling slightly. "Hey, Roy," the stocky firefighter whispered. "I thought I should wake you up." "Johnny!" the fair-haired medic cried, afraid the inevitable something had happened. "Easy, Roy, he's okay. He's okay. Dr. Brackett was just in here checking on him. His fever broke finally, the medication is taking effect. Listen, even his lungs sound better," Chet replied, standing up and pointing towards Johnny. As if on cue, they watched as Gage's eyes slowly opened and noticed the wheezing sounds were much diminished. Roy stood himself up and they waited a moment, wondering about their friend who seemed to have a lost look on his pale face. "Johnny? Can you hear me?" Roy asked, hopefulness surrounding his being. "Roy? Roy? Is that you? I still...I can't see," Johnny whispered, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard. Both Roy and Chet felt their hearts skip a beat. They were hoping that their friend would wake up and be totally whole again, and the fact he still couldn't see proved very heart-rending to them. However, they shrugged it off, knowing he was alive and had gotten over the worst hurdle. They would deal with his vision loss later. "I'm right here, Junior. And so is Chet. Look, you're gonna be okay, now, everything is gonna be okay," Roy soothed, reaching over to pat his friend's arm. But Johnny still looked depressed and it didn't get past his two friends. He still had a long way to go in his recovery. Dr. Brackett entered the room, and walked over to Johnny, smiling. The young man who was constantly testing his medical skills seemed to have fought and survived yet another battle. Kel realized Johnny could still not see and knew he would have to concentrate on that. Because of the crisis involving the pneumonia, Dr. Brackett had let that slip to the backboard, but now that he knew Johnny would live, that matter would have to be taken care of immediately. "Johnny, it's Dr. Brackett. You're gonna be okay, the medications are working and your pneumonia is showing signs of improvement. How do you feel?" Johnny frowned and for the first time in a long while he took a deep breath without going into a coughing fit. He tried to look towards where he thought the doctor was standing, but the blank stare was at least two feet off. "Doc, I feel kinda weak. And tired. But my lungs feel better and I can breathe alot better. Doc, what about my eyes? Am I gonna be blind forever?" Gage asked, somewhat despondently. Kel's lip twitched and he reached out to touch his patient on the shoulder. "Johnny, we have done alot of tests regarding your vision loss. There's some papilledema, but I'm happy to tell you that you don't have a hematoma or intercranial bleeding of any kind. You sustained a very blunt blow to your head and pressure on your optic nerves is what is causing the blindness. Now, I have every reason to believe it is a functional blindness, only temporary, but for how long, we just don't know." "Doc, are you telling me that I could be blind for...years?" Johnny reiterated. Chet and Roy exchanged troubled glances, both noticing the fearful look on Gage's face. Dr. Brackett shook his head, then realized his young patient couldn't see him doing that. "No, Johnny, it could be a few hours, or it could be a few weeks. Seldom have I ever seen or heard of someone with your condition having a permanent blindness, or one that lasts for years. There's not much we can do to relieve that pressure on your optic nerves, all we can do is wait for it to dissipate, and depending on you, Johnny, that is something we just can't predict exactly." "Look, Gage, we'll help you all we can. Believe me," Chet spoke up. He was truly worried about his "pigeon" and could not help wondering how terribly scary being blind must be. Chet would never admit it to anyone, but back at his apartment, he had blindfolded himself for a couple of hours, attempting to experience what being sightless must feel like. Kelly had barely lasted the two hours, before ripping the towel off his eyes. It would be terrible to not be able to see for real. He didn't know what to say to Johnny and realized this was no time for jokes. Johnny glanced in the direction of Chet's voice. He shook his head, sadly. "I know you will, Chet, but...this is something I have to get used to by myself." "What are you talking about? You have a lot of friends, Johnny, alot of people care about you. Don't you know that?" Kelly asked, then suddenly felt embarrassed. He'd admitted to Gage that he cared about him and that was very un-Phantom-like. He cringed as he saw the slight smile turn up on Johnny's lips. "Well, in that case, Chester, how about you go get me a drink? I'm dying of thirst," John remarked and Kelly glanced at Dr. Brackett, who nodded in agreement. He left the room and the doctor looked at his patient, knowing they had alot to talk about. "Johnny, there is more we are going to discuss. But it can wait for tomorrow. By then you should almost feel like a human being again. Now, you two boys can stay a little while longer, but it is getting late and our young patient here needs his rest. Johnny, I will look back on you before I leave for the evening, and then tomorrow, we are going to talk." Johnny frowned and cringed. He knew exactly what the doctor was talking about. They still thought he was suicidal and he would most likely have to speak to a shrink. Gage was not at all looking forward to that. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Two days later, Dr. Abbott, the hospital psychiatrist was in Johnny's room. His pneumonia had improved greatly and they had taken him out of ICU and to a private room on the ward. Dr. Abbott was trying to get him to talk about his feelings, but John was frustrated and had become angry, not wishing to discuss anything with this stranger, someone whom he couldn't even see. Dr. Brackett, as promised, had had his chat with the paramedic and came to the conclusion the young man was still deeply troubled by guilt and despair. He could not prove it, but Dr. Brackett felt Johnny might still have suicidal tendencies and had doubts that he would not try to harm himself if he were outside the hospital. Kel did not have alot of experience dealing with psycho-therapy cases and as much as it hurt him to bring another doctor into Johnny's case, he felt it was for Gage's best interest. Dr. Brackett did not wish to dismiss the matter in the event Johnny was still struggling with depression and guilt, and feelings of causing himself harm. Johnny did not like Dr. Abbott. He felt the doctor was not helping him, but making him more angry and bitter. At their first session, Johnny thought his questions were stupid, inane and irrelevant. Because he refused to open up, the psychiatrist had prescribed antidepressants, hoping they would help. But Johnny was angry and did not like how the antidepressant made him feel. So he stubbornly refused to speak to Dr. Abbott, which only made the doctor increase his dosage of the med, much to Johnny's chagrin. At one point, when the nurse entered to give him the medication, Johnny refused to take it, throwing the pill across the room. Dr. Abbott was called and advised him that if he didn't take his medication, they would have no choice but to attempt tougher tactics. Feeling defeated, Johnny reluctantly agreed. When the antidepressants finally took their proper effect, Gage opened up, cringing as the brutally blunt Dr. Abbott asked him point blank questions. "So, John, do you remember the car accident you were involved in that brought you here to Rampart?" Johnny shook his head, his eyes still unseeing. He had started to get accustomed now to the darkness he was engulfed in. The antidepressant made him feel like it was no longer a big deal, he felt totally relaxed. The room could blow up and it wouldn't bother him. "What do you remember?" "My captain back at the fire station had suspended me. I didn't think he was right in doing so. Just because I took a few extra risks to help those people..." Dr. Abbott knew all about the "extra risks" Johnny had taken. "So you believe that running into a burning house without your oxygen tank was acceptable? You think walking up to a man with three guns, who had already shot a police officer, was the proper thing for someone in your position to do?" Johnny breathed deeply. "No." "Then what do you think was the driving force that made you do it?" Dr. Abbott asked, watching and studying his young patient intently. "I...I wanted to see if...," Johnny stopped, not wishing to go further. But the doctor gently urged him to open up and just say it. The young paramedic stared ahead, relaxed and spoke. "Okay, you want me to say it, I'll say it. I wanted to die. Okay? I wanted to die because I just couldn't deal with the guilt and the terrible feelings of inadequacy that were swallowing me up." "What did you feel guilty about?" "You know this already. I told you this before." "Well, tell me again, John. We're doing this to help you. You need to open up and get all your feelings out," Dr. Abbott advised. He had a notebook and was writing something down in it. "I couldn't stand the thought that I had been responsible for nearly killing my best friend," Johnny spit out. "Why do you think it was your fault that he got hurt? Did you put the bomb inside the building?" Johnny shook his head. Had he not been on antidepressants, he would have felt like strangling this man and walking out of the room, never to return. He folded his arms defiantly in front of his chest, now getting as frustrated as was possible on this medication. "Then why do you think it was your fault? You didn't do anything wrong, John. Your captain said you more than likely saved both you and your partner's life." "Don't you get it, Doc? I made the decision to stay in the warehouse. Me. I wanted to prove I wasn't this soft guy that they had teased me about. I was stupid, and selfish. Staying in that warehouse, after we were ordered out wasn't my decision to make, but I did it anyway and because of that my best buddy was buried and nearly died. It was all my fault. How come you people just don't see that?" "Would it have made a difference if you had left when your captain ordered you to?" "Yes!" Johnny cried out. He was showing obvious signs of exhaustion and frustration. "So had you left when your captain ordered you to, and the bomb went off right in front of you, you and your partner would surely have been killed. Is that the solution that you would have wanted?" "No, but at least it wouldn't have been me who was responsible!" Johnny shouted. He rubbed at his eyes which were quickly becoming moist from the guilt and despair that he felt and was being forced to re-live all over again. Dr. Abbott could see his patient was becoming much too upset to go on. However, he continued, wanting to get to the bottom of this, deciding that his patient needed clarity in resolving this problem. "John, did you cause your car to crash into the tractor trailer on purpose?" the psychiatrist asked, bluntly, watching to see what his patient's reaction would be. Gage's unseeing eyes blazed. "No! I...wouldn't...no! I...," the paramedic stopped speaking, trying hard to remember. Then it all came flooding back. He remembered. The look on his face made that obvious. His voice trembled as he continued. "No. I was mad when I left the station, but it was an accident," Johnny replied quietly. "The transport truck veered into my lane. I was going too fast and I couldn't stop. It was an accident." Dr. Abbott believed Johnny. He wrote something down in his notebook and then looked at the young man. "John, what will it take to get you to believe that the incident in the warehouse was just that. An incident that you had no control over. It was not your fault your partner got hurt. You should be glad you both survived it. You have to stop blaming yourself and believe that you actually caused the best possible scenario in that warehouse. Your partner is alive because you stayed there. And he is alive because you were there to help save him." Johnny looked down and that realization dawned on him, finally. The guilt within, the pent up feelings of anger and self-hatred seemed to suddenly float out of his body. He had beat himself up, nearly caused himself to be killed for nothing. He immediately felt foolish as this conclusion became obvious. After struggling for so long with his desperation and guilt, Gage realized how absolutely wrong he had been to feel that way. He didn't know why he hadn't listened or believed everyone else who'd told him the same thing before. Johnny felt a great weight release from his shoulders and running his hand across his face, glanced his stare towards Dr. Abbott. "You're right, Doc. I can see that now. I understand that now. All this terrible, incapacitating guilt I had been feeling, was for nothing. Why didn't that make sense to me? Why couldn't I see that before?" the paramedic questioned, in a soft voice. Dr. Abbott smiled and patted the young man's arm. "Well, sometimes the feelings of remorse and being responsible for something bad that happens, and the stress we feel over a certain situation can take over and eat us up inside. Sometimes, we need some help from an outside source to realize the things we just don't see ourselves. You have an extremely stressful job. You happen to be close friends with your partner. It is understandable that you would feel responsible and guilty because of what happened. I can see that you are an intelligent, conscientious, caring young man. But I do have one more question for you, John." "What, Doc?" The doctor's tone was serious as he spoke. "Do you still feel any remorse or guilt? How do you feel about yourself now? Do you think you might cause harm to yourself if you left the hospital right now?" Johnny sighed. The huge depression he had felt for a long time now had lifted. He just wanted to concentrate on getting better and going back to work. "No, Doc, honestly. I feel a little foolish for having let my feelings overwhelm me. I really just am hoping I can get my sight back real soon. I want to get on with my life. Hell, I'm only 28, I have a lot of living left to do," Gage remarked, then added sombrely, "I hope I still have a job left to go to. I'll bet they all hate me for the way I acted and what I put them through back at the station." Dr. Abbott smiled and stood up, walking towards the door. "I don't think so, John," he replied and opening the door up, waved in Roy, Chet, Marco, Mike and Captain Stanley, who had been waiting patiently outside to see Johnny for over an hour. The doctor approached Hank, whom he had met and spoke to before beginning therapy with Gage, and whispered that he believed Johnny was well on his way to mental health. It would still take some time, and he would need to be on the antidepressants for awhile, but he was certain John was not suicidal and would be able to resume his job as a paramedic once his physical injuries had healed. Hank smiled and joined the rest of his crew, who were all standing around Johnny's bed, talking about old times. "You know, Gage, you have all the luck," Chet replied, grinning broadly and winking at the other men. "You should see that gorgeous nurse that's on duty here today that you'll have hovering all over you. I'll bet she's even more attracted to you because she knows you can't see her. Chicks really dig this sort of thing. You know, she feels sorry for you." Johnny broke into a wide smile, his first true one in a long time. "Well, Chester, ole pal, eat your heart out, buddy. Because as soon as I am back to my old self, I am going to ask her out and I bet it'll be the best date I've ever been on." The rest of the men stifled their laughter as the nurse they had seen at the desk, came into the room just then to check Johnny's IV. Her timing couldn't have been better. She replaced the bag with a new one and glaring at the men, who had clammed up, but were still wearing huge smiles on their faces, left the room. She was at least sixty years old and that many pounds overweight. Her blue-grey hair was wound up in a tight bun and her weathered face held many wrinkles. But Johnny didn't know that. He smiled. "Yep, even with no sight, I can tell she's a real beauty. And she will be all mine, gentlemen, all mine. Try not to get too jealous," Johnny said confidently. "Boy, that'll be real tough," Marco replied, trying to hold back his giggle. The men spoke and joked a little while longer, happy to see Gage was becoming his old self once again. But he was tiring quickly, and they left, content in the knowledge that he was healing both mentally and physically. Their only concern about him now, was the fact his eyesight had yet to return. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* During the next few days, Johnny made remarkable progress. The pneumonia was gone and his lungs were healing nicely. The incisions from his surgeries were also well healed. His broken ribs were mending and he was not in alot of pain. Dr. Abbott spoke with him several more times, and after assessing him mentally fit he wrote him a prescription for a greatly decreased dosage of the antidepressants for a one month period. He also made an appointment to see him at the end of that month, just for one last check up and to discuss any issues that the paramedic felt he required help with. Johnny thanked Dr. Abbott and realized his initial dislike of the man had disappeared. The psychiatrist was indeed a very caring and professional individual. Johnny felt he had him to thank for making the feelings of anger and guilt that had consumed his thoughts diminish. Dr. Brackett and Dixie came into his room to examine him. Although they were happy with his speedy progress, he still did not have his sight back. But he was well enough that the doctor had decided he would release Johnny to go home for the rest of his recovery, the next day. Upon hearing that, Gage became somewhat upset. His face visibly paled. "Johnny, is something wrong?" Dixie asked, noticing his reaction. Gage stared past her, shaking his head. "I...um...I don't think I'm ready to go home yet," he admitted and pointed to his eyes. I can barely find my way across the room to use the washroom here! "Johnny, we don't know when you are going to get your sight back fully, but we can't keep you in the hospital for that. You are physically healed well enough that you can continue your recuperation at home. It could still be weeks before you can see," Brackett advised, feeling sympathetic towards the paramedic, but knowing Johnny would have to start learning how to care for himself, in the event his blindness may be permanent. Kel had not mentioned that fact to anyone, he had tried to have them believe that the sight loss was only temporary, but he knew the longer it lasted, the more chance there was that the paramedic could be blind indefinately. But Johnny surprised him with his next statement. "Or I may never see again, right, Doc? And you want me to go home and learn how to function for myself, isn't that the truth, Dr. Brackett?" Brackett's hesitation was painfully obvious to Johnny. He cringed, upset, and folded his arms across his chest. Kel tried to talk to him, but the paramedic refused to acknowledge him, fearing that the doctor had stretched the truth regarding his blindness. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I told you I didn't know when your eyesight would return, and that is no lie. But you're right - you have to learn how to take care of yourself. I'm releasing you from Rampart in the morning. I've called Roy and he and Chet are coming out to get you and take you home. We just have to wait. I believe your eyesight will return and you have to believe that too, Johnny." Johnny felt despondent. He had been without vision for nearly two weeks and he didn't think he would ever get it back. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Dressing himself in the morning was a huge problem that Gage had never considered could possibly ever be a problem. Dixie set the jeans, shorts, socks and shirt, that Roy had brought by previously for his ride home, out on the bed in front of him. She left his hiking boots on the floor to his left and made sure he knew where everything was before she left. Johnny felt for his shorts, and on his first try, had put them on backwards and inside out. Embarrassed, and glad he was alone, he became aware of this and turned them around, not realizing in the process of doing so, that he had knocked his socks and shirt off the bed. He felt his jeans and pictured in his mind how to grab them by the waist and he pulled them on, without any problem as he sat on the bed. Reaching for his socks and shirt, he became alarmed when, after several seconds of feeling for where they should be, he could not find them. Standing up slightly uneasily from his bed, wearing only his jeans, the paramedic felt something soft brush his feet. Feels like my shirt he reasoned and bent down to scoop it up. As he did so, disoriented, he had no idea that he was now directly under the small metal table beside his bed and coming back up, he banged his head extremely hard on it. Johnny felt the pain from the blow to the back of his head. For a moment he wavered, feeling dizzy. He tried to keep his balance, but fell heavily to the floor just as Roy and Chet entered his room. They saw him fall, and concerned, ran immediately over to his aid. "Johnny?" Roy called, worried as they turned the dark haired paramedic around onto his back. Chet ran to get Dr. Brackett, while DeSoto began to assess his partner. Johnny was blinking wildly, and moaned slightly as Roy held him. The older man watched as Gage seemed somewhat disoriented and his eyes closed. "Johnny? Don't go to sleep on me!" DeSoto ordered, fearing his friend had suffered yet another concussion. Chet returned to the room, with Dr. Brackett in tow. The men lifted him up back on the bed and began to get a set of vitals on him. But Johnny moaned again, and his eyes opened. He pushed their hands away from him. "Just lie back, Johnny. You hit your head," Chet advised, a worried expression on his face. "I know that, Chet. Will you guys just stop hovering over me, please? I'm fine!" Gage insisted. They ignored him. Dr. Brackett pulled out his pen light and was about to examine Johnny's eyes, when the paramedic pushed the doctor's hand away. "And you don't need to look at my eyes, Doc, because I can see. I can see!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Dr. Brackett decided to keep Johnny in bed at the hospital for a few hours, under observation, to ensure that he did not suffer any complications from his latest whack on the head. Although Gage's eyesight had returned, it was somewhat fuzzy and out of focus. He could see shapes and colors and lights, but had difficulty making out exact objects. Regardless, however,  Johnny and his friends were elated, believing it would be only a matter of time before his vision was back to his normal 20/20. Roy and Chet stayed with him and watched as Johnny went through the transition of regaining his sight. Two hours after the blow to his head, his vision had improved even more and he could now make out the face of the person closest to him. A short while after that, Johnny could see and recognize people and objects at a distance. And within four hours, he was able to read the fine print in a paperback book. For Johnny, this part of his recovery was an amazing experience, and he knew he would never take his eyesight for granted again. He shuddered when he recalled how terrifying it had been to have his eyes completely open and be able to see nothing except total darkness. How difficult it had been for him to do a simple task, such as dress himself, or walk to the bathroom. Johnny had been afraid to go back home sightless, realizing he would have an enormous amount of trouble just finding his way around his large ranch house. And he just couldn't bring himself to ask for help from his friends. After all, they had their own lives to live. Dr. Brackett released Johnny finally, and excited, he left Rampart with Roy and Chet. His eyes were not yet at a hundred percent, he was still experiencing some blurriness, but Kel assured him that symptom would pass and was only temporary. On the drive to his home, Johnny became very quiet, all of a sudden, holding his head down, alarming Roy and Chet. "Johnny, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Roy asked, looking over at his partner who looked as though he were very upset by something. Chet, who was in the back seat of DeSoto's Chevy pick-up, lurched forward, also concerned. Johnny lifted his head, slowly, his eyes still fuzzy, and both men noticed they were watery. Roy pulled his truck over to the side of the road, afraid something had happened. "No, I'm okay, I'm sorry, but I was kinda having a flashback, you know? I was remembering how we were in the warehouse fire and the explosion happened, and I looked around for you, Roy, and you were buried...and I was so afraid. I mean, I really thought you were dead, and that it was because of me being selfish. It still hurts me that that could have happened at all. I believed that I almost cost you your life. I felt so horrible and guilty thinking I nearly took a husband and father away from his family. I can't believe how powerfully those thoughts took over me. I began to think that I was so bad that I...didn't deserve to live," Gage finished, in a low voice. He fought the urge to weep, thinking that it had been years since he had broke down and cried, the way he had during his few weeks of self torture. Both Roy and Chet knew that it would still be some time before Johnny was completely over this. They were glad he was continuing to open up and involve them in his healing process. All the men at the station wanted Johnny to get better, both physically and mentally, and they all would not hesitate to offer him a helping hand. "Johnny, you know now that it was not your fault I got hurt, right?" DeSoto asked, and received a nod from his partner for an answer. "You also know that it's because of you that I am here, alive and able to still be with my family. And you are part of my family, Johnny. Don't ever forget that or assume otherwise. You are the little brother I never had. You are my kids 'Uncle' Johnny. That is how I feel about you. You saved my life back there at that warehouse and that is the truth. You have to really try to not punish yourself anymore over this. I know it will be difficult, but you have me and Chet and all the guys back at the station who want to help you in anyway we can." Chet, honestly touched by the emotional conversation, cleared his throat, and spoke up. "He's right, Johnny. Anything we can do to help you, we'll do, you know that, don't you? I mean, we are friends and friends do that for each other." Johnny smiled, feeling much better. As he straightened up, and Roy accelerated back into traffic, he glanced out through the windshield. The feeling that his life was finally back on track, and he was blessed to have such fine men for friends and coworkers, never left his mind. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Three weeks later, Johnny was feeling great and he was back to his former jovial, cheerful self. His vision had cleared completely and he now possessed the perfect sight he'd had before his car accident. His Land Rover had been a write-off, and the insurance had replaced it with a shiny new one. Gage was excited to start back to work the next morning, happy that Roy was now also back, having beat him there by only one shift. Station 51's A shift would finally be back to it's full, original crewmembers. As Gage walked through the door of the station, whistling, a thought crossed his mind that had not occurred to him before. He wanted nothing more than to get back to reality, the way things were before he became so messed up. He hated the thought that the men might still be somewhat wary of him, thinking he needed some time to get back into things. Nothing could be further from the truth. Johnny did not want anyone to feel uncomfortable around him or treat him any differently than they had previously. What if they still think I'm not myself...what if they act differently towards me? I don't want them to treat me differently, knowing what I went through. I just want things to go on being just like they were before...I'm gonna make sure Cap doesn't baby me because it's my first shift back. Hearing voices coming from the kitchen, Johnny headed straight in, slowly, apprehensively. He saw Captain Stanley sitting at the table, drinking coffee, reading a newspaper. Chet was on the couch, feeding Henry, their dog, part of his cinnamon donut. Mike was reaching over towards the part of the paper that Hank had discarded and Marco was sitting over by the television set. He got up from his seat and changed channels as Gage entered. Roy was over by the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. Not one of the men looked up or acknowledged him as he walked in and his broad grin turned into a frown. Johnny walked to the cupboard, pulled out a cup and went to pour himself a cup of coffee, noticing with chagrin that the pot was almost empty. Well at least that never changed, he thought and began to make a new pot. He was surprised by the men's lack of interest in his first day back. They barely looked up at him as he finally said hello, and received five short "hi, Johnny's" back. Suspicious and confused, thinking maybe he was correct in his assumption that the crew would be apprehensive towards him for a while, Johnny poured his coffee and sat down at the table, looking at the clock. He still had some time before roll call, having arrived at the station nearly a half hour early. The silence seemed deafening to him and he was alarmed by the men's somewhat strange attitudes in ignoring him. He attempted to drum up some type of a conversation. "So, Roy, how's your leg? Been giving you any trouble? How was last shift?" Gage asked, sipping his coffee. "Great, no problems. Last shift was pretty quiet. Worked with Craig Brice, so it's a miracle I managed to get through it. How come every time you're off I get stuck with that guy? You get Dwyer, I get Brice, it's just not fair," Roy complained, sitting down next to his partner. "Hey Gage, how are you feeling?" Chet asked, from over at the couch. Mike looked up at him from his paper and Cap was staring sideways at him. Johnny felt uncomfortable; things were not back to normal like he'd have hoped. He decided to voice his opinion. "Look, guys, I'm fine. Really, you don't have to feel like you're walking on eggshells around me. I just wanted to come back to work, you know, have some normalcy come back into my life, and you guys are so quiet, so abnormally quiet. Is something wrong? Are you worried about me? Because I'm fine, you don't have to be," Johnny insisted. "No, John, really, everything is back to normal. Why don't you go get changed, roll call is in five minutes, pal," Captain Stanley advised. Johnny looked over, feeling everyone staring at him, and thinking that this was anything but normal. Suddenly, sadly, he realized that it would be some time before life at the station would fully resume back to the way things had been. How could he have thought anything differently? His last few shifts here had been disastrous, he had acted horribly and the men all knew he had become suicidal. He had not worked in over a month and how could they help not feeling differently towards him? Sighing, somewhat dejectedly, Gage rose from the table and walked slowly into the locker room. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Man, Gage, did you blow it this time. They're never gonna believe you're the same person you were before. He was so involved in his thoughts, that he did not hear the rest of Station 51's crew as they quietly entered the room and hid behind the spare lockers at the back. Sighing again, running a hand through his dark hair, Johnny opened his locker, totally unprepared for the tub of water that erupted from a spring from within, shooting out water which hit him in the face and chest. Momentarily stunned, and standing there soaking wet, the young paramedic wiped his hand over his face and listened to the laughter that had broke out around him. The Phantom! Johnny thought, at first with chagrin. Then, as Roy, Cap, Chet, Marco and Mike joined him at his locker, he smiled and laughed with them. Nothing had changed; the Phantom had struck as usual and the men were enjoying the fact that he had once again been the victim. Life was finally becoming normal. Cap even went as far as to inform the dark-haired paramedic that he was on latrine duty for the day, which brought a huge smile to Gage's face. It's great to back, Johnny thought, happily, unaware that the others were thinking the same thing. Their Johnny was back. The End feedback for Mary return to main menu