that name again

This story is based on events that occurred in my previous story "Just Because You're Paranoid..."   It might be helpful if you read that one first, but this one can stand alone.

What Was That Name Again?

by Nexxie

The newest addition to Station 15 looked around at his crewmates as Captain Riley introduced them. Mostly they grinned and nodded. The two paramedics glanced at him uneasily before turning to each other and shrugging. Captain Riley had a similar reaction.

"Welcome to 15's, Probie," FF/PM Walt Winston said before offering his hand in greeting. It could be just a great big coincidence...or not. Winston would give a lot to find out. Meanwhile, he helped the new guy find a locker and a bunk to get settled in. He was replacing a good man.

The tones sounded before the probie even managed to hang up a shirt in his locker. Luckily they had taken care of his turnout gear first so he didn't have to scramble for a coat and helmet.

The probie felt all eyes on him as he backed up Crawford, Winston's partner, on an inch-and-a-half at the burning stationery supply store. It was his first fire as part of the engine company and he knew his performance was being weighed. Against what, he wasn't sure but he was game and ready to do his best. It seemed to take forever for the fire to finally be out, the longest, hottest day he could remember.

The air was a little different here than it was in Kansas City, where he grew up. The weather was drier, the scenery browner and the traffic more congested. The mountains, though, were beautiful and seemed to be beckoning him. One day soon he would find a good spot to go backpacking and spend some off-duty time. The Ozarks were pretty, but they paled in size and scope...and the Ozarks were where his grandparents lived.

His crewmates clapped him on the back and told him he did okay. That was something for which to be grateful. He wasn't grateful for the mess he faced as he went to clean the latrine. It looked like a soot monster trashed the place. The floor was a muddy mess, the mirrors smudged and covered with dirty handprints, paper towels scattered on the floor, everything calculated to make the job as unpleasant as possible. It was another test, he knew, and he would pass it.

The probie had been through plenty of tests in his life, mostly because of who he was and what he was. Over the years he learned to just ignore most of the insults and some of the harassment. Sometimes he fought back and paid the price. His pride wouldn't let him ignore everything, after all.

******************
Back in the Midwest Jason McGuire called his nephew Aaron in Los Angeles.

"How is the boy settling in?" he inquired with false concern.

Aaron didn't pretend to misunderstand his grand-uncle. "He hasn't found the man yet," he replied. "I told you I would call when he found him."

"See that you do," Jason demanded. "I'm paying you good money to keep the boy until he finds that...that...animal."

"I promise, Uncle Jason, I'll call you as soon as I know anything." Aaron hung up the phone with a sigh. Blood was thicker than water, but water tasted a hell of a lot better.

******************

Chet Kelly was watching his shiftmates as they slowly gained on the fire. The warehouse was full of boxes and maneuvering inside was difficult. The engineer from 127's kept one eye carefully on the gauges, part of him longing to be on the other end of the hose. Sometimes he felt sidelined.

15's was working the other side of the building. They were toned out after an explosion prompted Kelly's captain to call in a second alarm assignment. Chet's shift was over a good hour ago, but tell that to the fire. He saw a familiar figure round the end of the building wearing SCBA. The mask was down hiding his face, but the man's walk was unmistakable. Chet waved and called to get his attention. He was ignored.

Gee, he thought, I didn't figure he would still be that mad. Something's weird here, where's his helmet? He's wearing the wrong helmet. Oh well, everybody knew he could never keep track of it at a fire anyway. Still, I wonder why he pretended not to hear me? What's he doing here anyway, I didn't hear his station toned out to this one.

******************

Chief Stanley directed the deluge to open up on the north side of the building. This thing was getting out of hand fast and they needed more help. There were already two battalions and three companies working this blaze and they were making little headway.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a new turnout coat with an old name run to back up someone at 15's. What was he doing here? Had the twit lost his helmet again? At least he finally got a haircut. Hank made a mental note to tease his old friend before they packed it away.

That thought was forgotten as the fire became more intense. Putting his handy talky to his face, Hank turned his attention to redirecting one of the engine companies. Old friends would have to wait.

*******************

The brush fire was intense and high winds were sending it toward a small group of homes nestled in the valley. Backfires and water drops had failed to contain the beast that was busily charring a large portion of the Angeles National Forest. Engine Company 99 was in the thick of it, having been there from the first. Captain DeSoto was wondering who would be called out next. 15's was on their way, 118's arrived shortly after 99's, and 8's were over on the next ridge. Roy was glad somebody else was in charge on this one.

The HT was busy with constant directions and re-directions from the command post. Engine 15 was being sent to a position near 99's to try and save the cluster of houses when 51's was finally called in. It would take them a while to get here, Roy knew, but he would be glad to see Johnny. Somehow they still worked best together.

After about half an hour 15's was managing to keep the flames back from the little group of houses with help from another engine company Roy couldn't identify. As a tree started to fall, he saw a familiar figure run and make a flying tackle to push another firefighter out of the way.

Wonder if he busted a rib on that one, DeSoto mused, wouldn't be the first time. How did he get up here so fast?

Chief McConikee took a drink of water and watched as Gage limped up to the paramedics triage area. It figures, he thought before calling, "Hey Gage, lose your helmet again? Nice haircut, by the way!"

As the fireman turned and looked in the chief's direction, throwing him a puzzled glance before continuing toward Walt Winston, McConikee remembered, oh yeah, I forgot about that. Ain't that something?

**********************

"Hey, Probie," Captain Riley came up to him, "you did real good up there...saved Nichols' life too. How's the ankle?"

"It's fine, just a little sore. How's Nichols doing? I didn't see him at the paramedics' station when I went up there."

"He just had the wind knocked out of him. I made him sit out for fifteen minutes and drink some water. He was okay. Kid, that was a hell of a fire up there, one of the worst. Yes sir, you did real good."

His captain's praise was welcome and gave him a warm feeling. The probie felt like he had found a home.

After Cap Riley walked away, Winston and Crawford came over and clapped the newest firefighter on the shoulder. They just heard how the kid ended up twisting his ankle in a flying tackle that saved Nichols' life while putting his own at risk. When they were wrapping the ankle he just said he fell. Yeah, some fall! The kid, they decided, was a keeper.

********************

"STATION 15...STRUCTURE FIRE 2286 MARTINEZ...2-2-8-6 MARTINEZ...TIME OUT 06:14"

The dispatcher's voice had barely finished the call when Engine 15 and Squad 15 rolled out of the station. The structure fire was a two-story home in a nice neighborhood. Paramedics Winston and Crawford checked the house for victims and brought out one canine with smoke inhalation. Everyone else was out of the building.

Captain Riley sent in two firefighters with an inch-and-a-half to put out the fire that started in the upstairs bedroom. It was the probie's third week and the kid was doing fine. He needed to put on a little muscle, but that would come in time. What was important was that he had the heart of a fireman. Not really surprising considering...

A rumble and crash from inside sent Winston and Crawford running back into the house. A few moments later they emerged with both firefighters. The kid was hurt.

"Ceiling collapsed, Cap," Crawford informed him. "The probie was knocked cold and took a hit in the back. Looks like a concussion and maybe cracked ribs. We're gonna need an ambulance."

    Riley shook his head and called for the ambulance. Must have something to do with the name.

***************

   It was an unusually warm day for March when Roy DeSoto received that bizarre telephone call informing him that John R. Gage was in the hospital at Rampart. Knowing Johnny Gage, the phone call in itself was not particularly odd, but...

   Since the only John R. Gage I know is sitting on my back deck at the moment listening to my sixteen-year-old daughter ramble on about some movie star, it seems pretty unlikely.

   After thanking the informant, a nurse whose voice he didn't recognize, Roy sauntered out the back door into the sweltering heat and cocked one hip on the railing of his deck. His best friend was stretched out in "his" chair, enjoying a well-earned rest.

   DeSoto chuckled to himself at the probable effect the news would have on Johnny. This is going to be good.

   The mist of perspiration on John Gage's forehead and upper lip was not totally due to the heat of the late morning sun beating down on him. After he got off shift he spent the remainder of his Saturday morning off helping repair Roy's deck, and his cut-offs and sleeveless T-shirt were drenched in sweat. Termites and weather had taken its toll on the structure's wood planks and supports over the last few years, and Johnny vowed that he wouldn't forget to seal the darn thing this time----and to make sure Roy remembered to take better care of it.

   His chair was balanced precariously on its back two legs as it leaned against the outside wall of the house. Johnny, his sunglasses pushed out of the way on top of his damp dark hair, was enjoying the gentle breeze that caressed his face and softly rustled the leaves on the nearby shade tree...not that he could actually hear the rustle of the leaves at the moment. With his eyes closed, he could pretend to be listening to Jennifer rave on nonstop while concentrating on plans for his next camping trip.

   Roy absently opened a can of soda and tipped it back for a long drink before shaking his head in amused disbelief at what he had to tell Johnny. I know the whole thing is probably another of The Phantom's pranks, but if it is, Chet has outdone himself this time.

   "Junior," Roy began, "a tragedy has occurred."   Roy chuckled to himself again, and tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face as he prepared to share the information.

   Johnny looked up, raising one dark eyebrow at Roy's announcement, glad for any interruption of Jennifer's seemingly endless monologue.   "If it's a tragedy, Pally, then why are you smiling like that?" Johnny took a long swallow from the Pepsi he was currently nursing and squinted in the bright sunlight of the southern California day at the grin Roy was ineffectually trying to suppress.

   "Get this," Roy began, a smug expression on his face, "You were admitted to Rampart hospital this morning. It looks like you're AWOL."   Roy's grin got bigger as his words had the desired effect.

   "What?" Johnny squeaked, his head jerking in reaction. Gage's chair slid out from under him and crashed to the deck, adding splashes of sticky soda to his already damp clothing. Shaking his wet arms in disgust he got to his feet.

   "I'm serious," Roy insisted. "You know how Rampart always notifies me whenever you are brought in injured?"

   "Yeah, Dix put a memo about that on the base station desk just in case she's not on duty," Johnny stated wryly. He recalled how she made a show of taping it to the desktop after one of the aforementioned injuries. She was teasing him then, but the last time he looked, the note was still there.

   "Well, I just received a call from that desk informing me that 'John R. Gage' was treated in the ER at Rampart this morning. He was injured by falling debris in a structure fire but is now comfortably resting in his room."

   "Roy, that's impossible!" Johnny exploded. He shook his head. "This must be some kind of a gag. I mean...I don't buy that big of a coincidence." Suddenly he smirked, drawing the same conclusion as Roy----another Phantom prank. Chet must have heard him and Roy discussing the upcoming repairs to the deck at the barbecue the other night----he would have known Johnny would be here today.

   "I was thinking about going over there and paying this guy a visit, seeing as how I was informed and all," Roy said with a grin.

   "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Ya gotta figure it's either some colossal mistake, or Chet's behind it somewhere."

   Johnny shook his head ruefully as he recalled some of The Phantom's more outrageous pranks.   Even now that they no longer worked at the same station, the irrepressible Chester B. still occasionally went out of his way to play practical jokes on his "favorite pigeon"...even if it was "Captain Pigeon" now.

   After he and Roy were promoted to captains, 51's A-Shift went through a series of changes over the period of the next few months. First, C-Shift's infamous Captain "Hook" Hookrader finally retired and was replaced with the newly-promoted Captain Gage.

   Roy was also placed on C-Shift as a captain at 99's, so the two often saw each other on responses and seemed to take turns being "incident commander". Their close friendship and knowledge of each other's habits still played a role as they seamlessly meshed their crews when working together.

   Chet Kelly finally made engineer and so did Marco Lopez who stayed at 51's but moved to C-Shift, happy to work with Johnny again. Chet went to 127's, but managed to stay in touch with the rest of the guys.

   Hank Stanley finally bit the bullet and took the chief's test, surprised when he made it. He too had moved up and away from Station 51. Only Mike Stoker stayed put, content to take good care of his beloved "Big Red".

   The old A-Shift was split up, but the guys gathered often like a family----dispersed but still close.

   "Hey Dad," Jennifer hopped up from her seat on the deck, her interest in movies and movie stars forgotten, "Can I go along?   After all, how many girls have two Uncle Johnnys that can't stay out of the hospital?" she teased, giggling when Johnny pretended to be wounded by her words.

   "Besides," Jen continued before Roy could answer, "it's boring here today with Chris working and Mom buying out the mall."

   "Well excuse me, Miss Jennifer!"   Johnny managed to look suitably offended that his company wasn't sufficient entertainment. Barbie dolls had given way to movie stars and rock singers, but Uncle Johnny was still her favorite companion.

   "I know we're gonna be sorry," Johnny sighed, "but I guess Chet's 'pigeon' will have to fall for this one since he seems to have gone to a lot of trouble over it."

   Roy nodded. A little reluctantly, he agreed to let Jennifer go with them. He had no real reason not to, other than an uneasy feeling that they were about to be "had". He didn't want to look foolish in front of his teenage daughter.

   Agreeing to head over to Rampart after lunch, they got busy with the preparations. Jennifer helped her dad put together some sandwiches and dumped chips into a big bowl while Johnny slipped upstairs for a quick shower.

   Gage donned a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, rolling up his sleeves in his customary manner, an action made difficult by the cotton fabric clinging to his still damp skin. As he swiped a path in the steamy mirror so he could see to comb his hair, Johnny grinned at his deeply tanned reflection.

   I can just picture the reaction the Rampart nurses will have to the "wounded pigeon" walking around in perfect health. I bet Chet plans to get more than just me and Roy on this one. The doctors and nurses at Rampart are fair game too...unless they are in on it...

   The grin faded. Man, this could end up being real embarrassing for somebody...like me!

   With a shrug, Johnny scooped up his dirty clothes, wrinkling his nose at the sweaty smell, and chucked them into a plastic bag.   He whistled tunelessly as he hustled down the stairs to the kitchen for lunch.

   Arriving at Rampart an hour later, Roy smiled as he asked the admitting nurse what room John R. Gage was in. She gave them the number, returning his smile pleasantly and the trio quickly made their way upstairs, expecting to find...well, they weren't sure what.

***************

The emergency room was in near chaos that Saturday morning as 15's paramedics Winston and Crawford brought their Code I into Rampart. He wasn't badly hurt and it was a good thing since the only familiar face on the staff was Dr. Morton. It didn't feel like Rampart at all with Brackett and Early at a convention and Dixie not around at the moment. Since the kid was gonna be admitted anyway----no question with a probable concussion----and C-Shift ended an hour ago, Winston decided there was no reason to hang around.

"Hey, Probie," Winston put his hand on the kid's shoulder, "Crawford and I are gonna split. I'll be back this afternoon to see if they're treatin' you right, 'k?"

"Yeah, no sweat. See ya later." Their erstwhile patient's voice croaked weakly, his voice hoarse from the smoke he inhaled when his SCBA mask was knocked off. His head hurt and his ribs were on fire. Laying back and closing his eyes seemed the smart thing to do.

I just wish they would get over calling me Probie, he thought, I have a name.

Out in the hall a skeleton staff was trying to handle a busy morning with doctors and nurses on loan from different parts of the hospital. For the most part they were unused to the fast pace and high volume of patients that were normal for the ER, a fact which was driving Mike Morton nuts. He swore he would never again volunteer to handle things solo so Kel and Joe could both be gone at the same time. Dixie wasn't coming in until eleven due to personal business and things were as snarled up as they could get, in his opinion.

A harassed head nurse trying to run the base station was counting the minutes until Nurse McCall would arrive. She would be glad to get back to pediatrics where all she had to worry about was a few dozen sick and miserable children. Absently she looked down at the patient record in front of her. There was something about the name that bugged her. Oh yeah, the memo. With a sigh she picked up the phone and dialed. Only fifty minutes to go...

***************

Johnny and Roy simultaneously focused on the sleeping young man as they started to enter his hospital room, fully anticipating that this was a practical joke. Astonishment and wonder halted them both at the door as effectively as any barricade.

   It was John R. Gage. Johnny closed his eyes and then opened them again slowly.

   The man, hardly more than a teenager really, lay back on the pillow with his eyes closed, face only a shade or two darker than the small bandage above his right eyebrow.

   At an accusing glance from Roy DeSoto, Johnny could only shake his head open-mouthed, his expression fully denying any knowledge of the patient's identity. It wasn't hard to guess what Roy must be thinking, but Johnny was at a loss when it came to explanations about why this kid had his face.

   The name "GAGE" on the card outside the door lent further to the unreality of the situation.   Johnny felt like a refugee from "The Twilight Zone".

   Jennifer DeSoto took a long look at the handsome young fireman so still and pale in the hospital bed. His left arm was thrown casually across his forehead, his long eyelashes resting on pale cheeks. It was like Uncle Johnny had gone back to being a teenager just for her. With a dramatic sigh she fell desperately and completely in love.

Dixie McCall made her way up to the room assigned to one of her best----or at least most frequent----customers. This time, they said he had a minor concussion and some badly bruised ribs. So what else is new? Even making captain doesn't keep John Gage out of hot water.

   I wonder where the guys of "Johnny's Crew" are? They're usually hovering just outside the door. Maybe they had a busy shift and are getting some much-needed rest. I know all about busy shifts...it feels good to get away from that madhouse down there for a minute.

   She smiled as she saw Roy DeSoto in the doorway, one hand resting on his hip and the other nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Jennifer stood poised on tiptoe behind him as she attempted to peek over her father's shoulder.

   Dixie knew Johnny's injuries were fairly minor----for him, but she sighed in exasperation as she saw him standing with Roy in the doorway.   I'll have you back in that bed if I have to hog-tie you, Captain Gage, she vowed.

   "Johnny Gage," Dixie hailed him exasperatedly from just behind his left shoulder, breaking the tomb-like silence. "You get back in that bed!" The ER's head nurse parted the two DeSoto's like the waters of the Red Sea as she attempted to enter the room.

   At the sound of Dixie's voice Johnny turned. "L...look," he whispered hoarsely, his hand visibly shaking as he pointed to the quiet figure occupying the bed.

   Forehead creased in a confused frown, Dixie peered in the direction he indicated and found herself gaping in astonishment.

   It was the image of John Gage as he looked when she first met him almost twelve years ago.

   "WHO IS THAT?" she questioned Johnny in bewilderment, but saw only equal confusion in his eyes.

   "How's the Probie?" a hearty voice boomed from behind the group at the door.

   Johnny turned to see Walt Winston approach. Tall, stocky and as graceful as a bull moose, Winston worked out of 15's. Johnny worked there as a sub a few years back and knew him to be a capable and genial, if loud, paramedic.

   Gage still hadn't recovered enough to give an answer but watched the smile fade from Winston's lips as he compared the face on the pillow to the face in the doorway.

   "Oh, Geez!   Captain Gage, he's gonna be okay, isn't he?   He's...uh...related to you or something, right?   I saw the resemblance as soon he was assigned to us at 15's, but J.R. isn't one to answer personal questions. He doesn't talk much about himself or his family. He's an alright guy, though. Hey, Cap, he's gonna make a heluva good fireman."

   Winston looked more than a little embarrassed, realizing that he was babbling. It didn't do to aggravate a captain. Maybe he was intruding on a family gathering. He knew Dixie of course, and the other guy was Captain DeSoto from 99's, Gage's legendary paramedic partner. Walt figured the young girl must belong to DeSoto.

   "Winston, is that you?" a weak voice hailed him from the bed, eyelashes fluttering as the young patient struggled to focus. He seemed to have a lot of visitors all of a sudden. And why had that nurse told him to get back in bed? Geez, nobody had called him Johnny since second grade...at least not more than once.

   There was a shuffling of bodies as Winston stepped hesitantly into the room and approached the bed. He felt the eyes of the nurse and the two captains boring into his back.

   "C'mon in, man. Who's that with you? Is the fire out? Boy, after that ceiling went, I..." The voice broke off in mid-sentence as the young man made eye contact with his older double standing transfixed in the doorway beside Dixie McCall. "Oh shit!"

   In all his imagined scenarios, and there were probably a dozen or so, he never pictured meeting John Gage for the first time like this. Since he had never even seen a picture, J.R. was unsure whether he would recognize the man once he found him. It was not a problem.

   Winston looked rapidly back and forth between the two before beating a discrete and hasty retreat back to the doorway, not quite ready to leave entirely. J.R. didn't look real happy to see this particular visitor, and Walt felt a little protective of the kid.

   Johnny approached the foot of the bed, staring intently at the familiar features. His voice wavered as he asked, "Are you John R. Gage?" He received a slight head shake that could pass for a nod. "What...does the 'R' stand for?"

   "I think you must know that," the young man snorted. "It's Roderick, John Roderick Gage, just like yours...Father."

   J.R. gulped for air, suddenly less sure of himself, and continued, "I knew you lived in L.A. before I came out here from Kansas City, but I expected to have to look you up, not the other way around."   His voice was a little hoarse, but its timbre and accent could have been Johnny's own.

   After Walt Winston beat a hasty retreat, J.R. focused on the group at the door. There was the nurse with silvery blond hair that asked why he was out of bed...he thought she was nuts at first. Then there was a man the same height as his father, but stockier with reddish blond hair, and a pretty girl, about sixteen or so that was staring at him wide-eyed. She would be worth a second look, he thought, when she was a little older.

   Automatically J.R.'s eyes gravitated back to Johnny's face, carefully studying each feature. He wondered if this was the only chance he would ever get when his father quickly turned and bolted.

   Johnny nearly ran from the room as if chased by demons. Once in the hallway his legs seemed keep going of their own accord.

I've got to breathe, Gage thought, I'm gonna suffocate in here.

Desperate to keep moving Johnny looked at the elevator in disdain as he quickly headed for the stairwell. He vaguely heard Roy call out after him, but the sound failed to register on his brain. The ER went by in a blur, likewise the parking lot as John Gage began to sprint. Which direction? It didn't matter. All that mattered was escape, outrunning the jumbled words and pictures that crowded his mind until he wanted to scream.

Finally as his knees turned to water and refused to hold him up he leaned against the wall of a supermarket and slid panting to the ground. Elbows propped on his jeans-clad knees, he bent forward to rest his forehead in shaking palms. Gage's heart beat a rapid tattoo. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply to avoid passing out. It was a few minutes before he could bring his reeling mind to concentrate on the words uttered by the young man with his face.

"Just like yours, Father...Just like yours, Father..." The words whirled around and around in his head like a merry-go-round gone haywire.

How could this have happened? Well the how was pretty obvious, Johnny, he thought sarcastically, but where? and when? and with who? If he was already a fireman, the kid had to be at least 18.

Man, this is gonna make the rounds of the hospital fast, Johnny panicked, his stomach beginning to rebel,...not to mention the fire department. I take one look at the kid and run like a scared rabbit. No tellin' what that boy thinks of me now. Yeah, it's gonna be good. Captain Gage finds his kid and loses his mind. Geez!   Get a grip, John! You can't leave it like this. You gotta go back there. He fought for control taking deep cleansing breaths.

No! This isn't happening to me. It's got to be some mistake. I can't deal with this right now. I've gotta think. I've gotta think. Roy! I've gotta talk to Roy! What's Roy gonna think of me? Panic set in again. He's gonna think I'm trash to have done this. Stupid and irresponsible, yes, but hell I must have been just a kid myself. Who was the girl? When did it happen? I can't believe this!

Slowly Johnny rose to his feet, unsure just which direction to go...back to the hospital or home to the ranch. Reality is a b----! he thought. I've got to go back to Rampart and get my truck. Besides Roy and Jennifer are still there. Oh, man! Jennifer! Her Uncle Johnny has sure fallen from his pedestal this time, I bet. How am I ever gonna face Roy's family again? How am I ever gonna face anybody again?

His breathing slowed, Johnny Gage began walking back to the hospital, his steps nearly as heavy as his heart.

********************

J.R. knew it was going to be a very brief relationship when his father took one look at him and ran out the door. His grandparents were probably right about the man...irresponsible and useless.

   Unnoticed, Roy ushered a reluctant Jennifer out into the hall, leaving Dixie to close the door behind them all with shaking hands. She would return in a little while to check on the patient.

He does after all have a concussion, the nurse remembered. He's here as a precautionary measure for observation and rest. I think his daddy could use some of that rest too at the moment. He's really shook up. What a mess! Poor Johnny.

More calmly than she felt Dixie McCall shepherded Roy and his daughter toward the elevator and a cup of coffee in the cafeteria while they waited for Johnny to return. Jennifer sighed, a far-away look in her eyes. Dixie frowned at the girl wondering just how complicated Johnny's life was about to become.

About an hour after they left J.R.'s room, Roy took Jennifer home unsure when or if Johnny would return to Rampart. He didn't know how to tell Joanne what happened. He needn't have worried.

Jennifer spent the next two hours telling her mother about Uncle Johnny's son, who was absolutely the most handsome guy she ever saw, and the dramatic events as they unfolded at Rampart hospital.

To say Joanne was speechless would be an exaggeration...overwhelmed, astounded and amazed----yes; speechless----no. Joanne fired question after question at Roy and Jennifer, frustrated that the most common answer was, "I don't know".

"Are you going to go look for Johnny?" she said finally.

"I'm not sure where to even start looking," Roy admitted. "He was running when he left there, Joanne, and he was scared to death. I yelled for him to wait, but he didn't even hear. I think maybe the best thing to do is wait here. If he goes back to the hospital, Dixie will call me. If he calls here, I can go pick him up. At any rate he will have to come get the Rover eventually.

"I just can't imagine what this is doing to him. I know it's gotta be tearing him up inside. There was just no way we could have known when we went to the hospital that it was anything but a prank call." Roy looked defeated. This went way beyond his experience. He just hoped it would be enough for him to be there for Johnny when he finally showed up.

***********************

When Johnny arrived back at Rampart to find Roy and Jennifer gone, he straightened his shoulders and headed back upstairs to J.R.'s room. Putting this off, he decided, isn't gonna make it any easier.

On his way past the base station Johnny asked Dixie not to reveal to anyone what she had heard that day. He knew she wouldn't spread gossip lightly, it wasn't her nature, but she was apt to confide in the doctors she worked closely with about the people she cared about. Johnny felt that somehow he had, over the years, fallen into that category...the people Dixie cared about. He was right.

Dixie reassured him that it was for Johnny and his son to decide the time and place to reveal their connection. Besides, she thought in amusement, if they were seen together she wouldn't have to reveal anything...the "connection" was pretty obvious.

Johnny stared intently at the young man in the hospital bed wondering whether he should pass out cigars...or just pass out. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for this. What could he say to the boy...man...his son?

   "I...uh...never knew anything about you. Your...uh...mother never told me that...um..." Geez, how do you ask, without looking like a total jerk, the name of your son's mother? That's easy...you can't.

   With a shaking hand Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose as if to relieve the stress of the moment. "Mind if I sit down?" he indicated the lone chair against the wall by his son's bed. At J.R.'s silent nod, Johnny nervously perched on the naugahyde seat and tried desperately to think of what to say next.

J.R.'s eyes were glued to the man seated mere feet from his bed seeking to drink in every detail, every feature, every expression of the father he only knew as a bedtime story all his life. If this was the last glimpse he was ever to have, he wanted to make it count, to commit it fully to his memory.

***************

Cap Gage sat in his office alternately twirling the green pen between his fingers and tapping it on the pile of vacation requests, pay inquiries and routine reports that awaited his attention. It was no wonder he couldn't concentrate...he had just become a father.

Can you get paternity leave for having a nineteen-year-old child? No, but I bet you would make the papers, he answered himself, his crooked grin only half-hearted. Top that one, Brice!

Maturity and experience made some changes to Johnny Gage over the last few years. He was no longer the fresh-faced kid that went through the Fire Academy or even the cocky young paramedic that so got on his shiftmates' nerves. Financial burdens, the responsibilities that go with being a station captain, and the loneliness of his singular life etched lines of character into the smoothness of his cheeks and shadows into his laughing brown eyes. The unruly black hair, worn longer than regulation length in defiance of policy when he was a paramedic, was tamed now and a little closer Department standards.

   The tendency to be a maverick and a crusader, ranting and raving, mentally composing letters of suggestion or complaint, was replaced by the demands of leading and directing firemen, settling disputes within his station, and shouldering the responsibilities associated with his position.

   After his men----they dubbed themselves "Johnny's Crew"----persuaded him to just be himself and have fun on the job, his initial insecurity was gradually replaced with confidence engendered by their loyalty and trust.

   Johnny Gage had grown up. Right now he felt about a hundred years old. He had a grown-up son that, until Saturday, he never knew. It was an awkward meeting to say the least; the tension in that hospital room you could cut with a knife.

   "J.R...that's what you go by, right?" Johnny began uncomfortably.

   When the younger man nodded he continued, "I really don't know of a good way to say this. I'm gonna look like an ass any way I do it, so here goes. I don't have any doubt that you are my son...my own mirror would call me a liar if I tried to deny it. But...nobody ever...that is I can't remember...um...that is, I don't know..."

   In a flash of comprehension J.R. laughed bitterly and looked away. He was prepared for astonishment, anger, denial...even outright rejection...but not this. In one of his daydreams, he even imagined his father welcoming him with open arms as the son he always wanted. Fat chance!

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence he stated flatly. "My mother's name was Marnie McGuire, and she died of cancer three years ago last December." J.R.'s voice grew angry and the hurt was evident as he asked, "Were there so many girls that you couldn't remember which one you ...'um'...screwed twenty years ago? Or was my mother just so...forgettable?"

What a question for a kid to have to ask his old man, Johnny thought. And how awful that he was right.

   A knock on the office door startled Johnny back to the present. Dave Konnitsky leaned in and announced, "Lunch, Cap. Marco made Irish Stew."

"Thanks, Dave, I'll be right there, okay."

Johnny ran one hand through his dark hair and stood up to join his men in the kitchen. His problems could wait, he had a station to run.

Konnitsky shoveled in the stew while managing to talk non-stop about a girl he met last night. Johnny was amused. Did I use to do that? No wonder the guys got annoyed with me.

C-Shift, though, didn't appear to be overly annoyed with Konnitsky, they were used to hearing the trials and tribulations of his love life. He was their own private version of Dobie Gillis.

   "...was my mother just so...forgettable?" J.R.'s angry face appeared in Johnny's mind, the phrase more an accusation than a question.

   Instantly the memory of long straight chestnut hair framing flashing, mischievous eyes and a stubborn, dimpled chin, brought a startled look to Johnny's face. Marnie was a visitor to the reservation, he recalled, a guest of one of his cousins, and they were introduced reluctantly.

   Johnny at nearly seventeen was a black sheep as far as his relatives were concerned, capable of all kinds of trouble and mayhem. Invitations to family functions were issued with no little degree of hesitation, family loyalty finally winning out over the desire to keep him away.

   He found a perverse satisfaction, he recalled, in playing his bad-boy image to the hilt around his disapproving relations. His long-suffering parents just shook their heads at him and pleaded "please be good this time, John".

   Marnie McGuire was restless, sixteen and looking for adventure, he remembered. She had some kind of notion about Indians being mysterious and exciting. I know they warned her against getting involved with me. She wanted a taste of danger, the thrill of breaking the rules, and I guess I was ready, willing and able to oblige.

   John squired Marnie around in the battered old Ford pickup he kept running with used parts and elbow grease. It wasn't an elegant mode of travel, by any means, but it fit right in with his skin-tight jeans, rolled-up sleeves and well-worn boots.

   Man, half the time she acted like I was a Hell's Angel and she was my biker babe. It was kind of a kick, to be admired like that. And boy, could she kiss...

   Johnny kept his bedroll and camping gear in the back of the truck, and Marnie delighted in thinking of it as a sort of rolling love nest.

   He was restless energy personified----always on the move, full of ambitions and the desire to make them come true. He was also surprisingly gentle and considerate and Marnie quickly fancied herself in love, dreamily making plans for a future that centered around eventual marriage to her dark-eyed Romeo.

   That romance ended a few days later when my parents died in a car crash on the way back from some family thing...I think it was dinner at one of the relative's houses. I know I sure wasn't invited. Everything was a blur after that, the wake, the funeral, going through the farm being sold. Everybody argued over who would have to take on the bad boy for the year or so until I graduated high school. Finally they decided to ship me to Los Angeles, to my aunt. That was the best thing they could have done for me.

   In all that chaos, I was so angry and hurt and so damned...rejected. No wonder I completely forgot about Marnie McGuire. I didn't want to remember life before L.A. Forgetting was comfortable, it covered up the pain.

   "No," Johnny replied at last to his son's bitter query, "your mother was not forgettable."

   "...unforgettable, right Cap?...Cap?" At Dwyer's question Johnny noticed the forkful of stew that he held in front of his face. He wondered how long that had been there.

"Right, Charlie. The stew is great as always." Gage hoped his response was fitting to the conversation, but he could see right away that it wasn't. Garnering strange looks from the men around the table, Johnny decided to concentrate on his lunch and leave the memories for later.

"Thanks, Cap," a puzzled Marco Lopez responded, looking around the table at his equally puzzled shiftmates. Johnny was obviously preoccupied with something. Maybe he would tell them later what was bothering him.

"STATION 51...UNKNOWN TYPE RESCUE...4788 REYNOLDS AVENUE...4-7-8-8 REYOLDS AVENUE"

The tones summoning them from lunch were a welcome interruption to Cap Gage. He'd lost his appetite and needed to concentrate on something besides the new complication in his life.

"STATION 51, KMG-365," Johnny responded.

When Station 51 arrived at the rescue scene Johnny was once again amazed by the absurd things people do to get themselves in trouble.

Practicing for a fundraising event, several teenagers decided to find out how many people they could fit into a Volkswagen Beetle. Problem was, once they all got in, nobody could get out. There were people on the bottom that had not been heard from for several minutes and more than a few of them were panicked.

Vince Howard was standing near the driver's door shaking his head. He knew this should be against the law, but if it was, he didn't know about it. They couldn't be cited for stupidity.

"Cap, we're gonna need a couple of ambulances," Manley said. "There's some broken bones in this mess somewhere and several of them are having difficulty breathing.

"Manley," Johnny exclaimed, "how many kids do you think are in there?"

"Best I can figure...about 25."

"You gotta be kiddin' me! Well, let's get 'em out, it's pretty hot out here, I can only guess what it's like in there."

"L.A., Engine 51, respond two ambulances to our location." Johnny replaced the microphone and shook his head at Marco.

"Taylor, break out the K-12. We may have to open up the roof. Dwyer, what do ya need, Pal?"

After a few minutes of wiggling and maneuvering the crew managed to pull one victim out the side window. A little more effort released two more. After that they managed to open the doors and the teens came tumbling out. As they exited the small vehicle the firemen applied oxygen as necessary and sat the victims beside the engine----the only source of shade in the hot, sunny parking lot.

Surprisingly the paramedics only had to treat one fracture, two cases of heat stroke, an asthma attack and four bloody noses. Marco kept a count as the victims were drawn from the car----there were 26. Cap Gage and FF Rudy Taylor worked at calming the victims of the most common ailment...hysteria.

As they packed up to head back to the station, Johnny reflected on their good luck. This comedy could have easily become a tragedy.

Kids are resilient, I guess, he mused. Immediately his mind shot back to his own son.

"Well, DADDY," J.R. looked resentfully at the man who had run out of the room earlier, "what now?"

"I don't really know, J.R.," Johnny sighed. "Why don't we start with introductions? I'm John R. Gage. I'm a station captain at Los Angeles County Fire Station 51 and I've been with the department for about 15 years----4 years as a firefighter, 11 years as a paramedic and about 4 months as a captain. I came to L.A. when I was seventeen and have lived here ever since. I have a small ranch out near the San Gabriels with a few horses and a little acreage. I'm not married----never have been----and not in any special relationship now.

"Captain DeSoto, Roy, you met earlier. He's my best friend and his wife and kids are the closest thing I've had to family for a long time. I'm an only child, my parents are dead and I don't keep in touch much with my relatives back on the reservation." Johnny paused, his look saying That's who I am, what about you?

Can I trust you, J.R. wondered? Or are you gonna shove me away too?

   Deciding, in deference to his mother, to give it a chance, J.R. made eye contact with Johnny.

"Mom's parents," J.R. began, "always said I was their daughter's punishment for her 'wild ways' . Hell, maybe they were right. They could have helped her more than they did, but they preferred to sit back and watch her struggle to raise "the Indian's little brat" alone."

Johnny winced at J.R.'s words That he even unknowingly caused a young girl and an innocent child to be the victim of the same racism that had plagued his own childhood and adolescence stabbed him to the core. The sorrow and regret in Johnny's eyes prompted his son to continue.

"When my mother died of cancer, my grandparents absolutely refused to take me into their home----for that at least, I'm grateful. It made me determined to look for my father as soon as I could. I figured if my grandparents hated you, hell, you couldn't be all bad."

It wasn't an auspicious beginning, Johnny sighed, but it was a start. If he had known about the boy, nothing would have kept him from Marnie and his son. That the kid suffered poverty and rejection all those years tore at his heart. Maybe there was some way he could make it up to his son now. He could never bring back the lost years, but maybe he could make the future a little happier and take some of the shadows out of J.R.'s eyes.

"Cap...Cap?" Johnny looked over at Marco's anxious face. "You gonna get out of the engine?"

They were back at the station and Johnny was leaning on the window, his cheek resting on his hand. He sat up abruptly and exited the cab. He had to stop doing this.

"Man," Marco commented to Dwyer a few minutes later as they worked to hang hose from the tower in back of the station. "Cap is really preoccupied with something. He's been staring off into space all day. I wonder if something happened last weekend."

"Yeah," Dwyer agreed, "he hasn't been this moody for months. He's walking around the station like a...a...zombie or something."

"You think we should ask him? I mean he got mad when we didn't talk to him before." Marco was uncertain if this was the same type of thing though----Cap meant when they had a problem with him. Well, maybe it was the same thing.

"Let's finish this first," Dwyer said, "then go see if he wants to talk about whatever it is."

Marco nodded in agreement got back to work, a troubled expression on his face.

***************

The telephone rang in Aaron McGuire's apartment late at night. When J.R. answered there was only a click on the other end followed by the dial tone. Must be a wrong number, he thought sleepily and plopped back down on the lumpy couch that was his bed for the last few months. Working a shift tomorrow with sore ribs was probably not the best of ideas, but at least his bunk at the station didn't have springs poking through.

He took a couple minutes yesterday to call Walt Winston and ask him to keep secret the things he heard in J.R.'s hospital room and to let the father and son decide when and how much to tell their shiftmates and friends. Walt, for all his ebullience, was no gossip and easily agreed to keep their secret although, like Dixie McCall, he knew the resemblance between father and son wouldn't allow it to be a secret for very long.

J.R. changed positions trying to get comfortable and finally turned on the TV, unable to sleep. Even the old movies couldn't hold his attention for long. No matter how he tried, he just couldn't seem to think of anything besides the past, painful as it was. In no time J.R. was lost in the memories of the events that finally led him to Los Angeles...and a search for the man he'd heard about for years.

   Marnie McGuire's description of John Roderick Gage came off as some kind of cross between James Dean and John Wayne. She knew from his cousin Claire, the friend she stayed with on the reservation, that John was sent to L.A. after his parents died. From the same source she knew that he eventually worked for the fire department there. That source dried up when Claire got married and moved away, so Marnie made up stories for J.R. about his wonderful father, the hero.

   One time he asked his mother why she gave him his father's last name instead of her own.

   "Your grandparents were so angry with me," she began, "that I wasn't sure what I was going to do when you were born. At first I planned to run away to Los Angeles and find your father, but there wasn't enough money, and Claire seemed to think it would cause trouble with his aunt if I showed up there. I made sure though, by giving you his name, that he won't ever turn you away if you have to go to him. He will know you are his son by your name and by your face. You look so much like him, J.R.

Being an illegitimate child was bad enough, but his father's Indian heritage was readily apparent in the son's features as well, an unforgivable offense to his mother's very prejudiced family. J.R. didn't mention to Johnny the fact that his mother had kept John Gage's whereabouts from her parents. Her father had sworn to kill the man if he ever found him.

"Someday, I hope we can save up enough money to go find John Gage and, if he is still single, maybe we'll get married and we can be a family. But if that never happens, J.R., remember that you are named for a good man, and try to be like him, okay?"

   He was all of twelve when that conversation occurred. That summer his mother told him she had cancer. The following four years were pure hell. Treatment after treatment left Marnie with little strength and less hope. Money was scarce and J.R. found himself struggling to take care of them both. Before she died, she made him promise to go look for John Gage some day, and he gave his word more to reassure his mother than from any real intent to keep it.

   When his grandparents refused to take J.R. in, his mother's friend, an old lady whose name really was Mrs. Smith, offered him her spare room in exchange for chores and a small amount of rent. Evenings and weekends he worked part-time in a fast-food restaurant and thought he found a place for himself at last. After working there a year, they offered to train him as an assistant manager when he graduated high school. It wasn't to be.

   As J.R. dropped another batch of fries into the deep-fryer vat, he could smell the smoke drifting from the storage room. He knew some of the other kids sneaked back there occasionally for a cigarette, and might have started something on fire. A quick investigation found the room already in flames, the perpetrator having fled. Faulty wiring, ignored for more pressing expenses, caused the sprinkler system to malfunction and the fire spread in record time. The restaurant was a total loss.

   The fire department pulled up in time to protect the surrounding businesses. J.R. was out of a job, but he found something to salvage from the situation. As he watched the firemen battle the blaze, he imagined his father being one of them. They seemed so fearless and sure, and the fire engine inspired nothing less than awe. He wondered how much they got paid. He bet it was more than he got working as a cook.

   In his mind's eye, J.R. Gage pictured himself by his father's side, tired and sooty as they finished putting out a fire and jumped onto the truck together to return to the station. He remembered his promise to his mother to find John Gage.

   Events tumbled into place quickly after that. A visit to the local fire station proved very useful. In a conversation with the captain, he revealed that his own father was a fireman somewhere in L.A.. The man gave him a trade magazine with a recent article about the LACoFD.   There was an address at the end to write to for further information, and J.R. was quick to do just that, determined to keep his promise to his mother while pursuing this new dream.

   An application came in the mail for him a couple weeks later. His rent to Mrs. Smith was paid until the end of the month, and a cousin somewhat surprisingly agreed to let him stay at his place in Los Angeles until he found somewhere of his own to live...if he was accepted at the Fire Academy.

After completing the Academy, the proudest accomplishment of his life, he was assigned as the newest----and youngest----firefighter at LACoFD Station 15. From the very first day he got funny looks from the other men, especially the paramedics. But when pointed questions about his family were ignored or answered with vague, non-committal answers, eventually the questions stopped and the odd looks ceased. Hazing and ribbing the probie failed to get a rise out of J.R., who had dealt with much worse, and was abandoned as well. He seemed to have found his niche at work, now he needed a place of his own to live. The cousin was giving him not-too-subtle hints to move out.

   "Well, John Gage, " J.R. said two days ago, looking at the man watching him intently from his chair beside the bed, "I found you."

   I have so many questions for this man, but he's so...unapproachable in some ways. I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing.

It was long after midnight when he finally fell asleep.

********************

Aaron McGuire picked up the phone and dialed hesitantly. He knew it was a betrayal of his young cousin, but family was family and Uncle Jason wasn't one to cross.

"Hello," Jason McGuire answered gruffly.

"Uncle Jason? I have news." Aaron shook his head, regretting what he would do next.

"Well quit stalling, boy, tell me what you found out." Jason's eyes gleamed with anticipation. After all these years his little girl was going to be avenged, he could feel it. And about time; for nearly twenty years he had hated and waited to get revenge on that no-good half-breed. Now it was time.

"J.R. just got out of the hospital. He's been visited by his daddy. I had to follow the guy all over L.A. County before he finally went home, but I know where he lives now, and this morning I found out where he works."

"I'll be there tomorrow morning," Jason assured him, his voice triumphant. He hung up without another word. None were necessary; Aaron knew what his uncle wanted, what he had wanted since his only daughter got mixed up with John Gage. He wanted the man dead. Jason called the airline.

********************

After two more runs, a trash fire and an MVA, Johnny was more tired but no less preoccupied.

J.R. is so unapproachable, he thought in frustration. I want to talk to him, find out what he's like, what his life was like, what he wants from me...but I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing.

The ringing phone startled Johnny out of his thoughts again and he picked up the receiver to hear the very welcome voice of Captain Roy DeSoto.

"Hey, Junior," Roy began, "how's it goin'?"

"Hey, Pally, I'm really glad you called. I'm going a little nuts here."

"Busy day?"

"No," Johnny admitted, "it's been pretty quiet, but I just can't concentrate. I'm so uptight about what happened Saturday. I know the guys here have noticed, but I just don't know how to tell them yet. It's such a big thing to me, and I don't really know how to deal with it."

"I thought that might be the case, Johnny," Roy admitted, glad he followed his impulse to call. He figured his friend might need to talk.

"J.R.'s just had it so rough all his life, I think he's scared to trust anybody, afraid anything good will be taken away from him. Hell, I can relate to that...real well."

After all these years there were still things about Johnny that Roy didn't know, things in his past that were too painful...or too private to tell even his best friend. Roy wasn't there for the conversation between the father and son, but he could see the devastation on Johnny's face when he went back to pick him up.

"Say, Junior, what about coming over to dinner Friday evening after shift? Joanne is really anxious to meet J.R., and before you ask, no, I haven't told anyone else and I told Jennifer not to tell either. That kind of announcement is yours to make."

Johnny heaved a sigh of relief. That would give them three days to get acquainted before J.R. was faced with Joanne and Jennifer...not that he was nervous about that, he told himself.

"Sounds good, Pally. I'll have to talk to J.R. about it, but if he says 'yes' it is definitely on."

A few more moments of conversation with Roy served to help Johnny focus and relax. He suddenly realized that none of the requisite paperwork for the day was done and it was nearing suppertime. With a better outlook, he settled down to work.

Marco Lopez and Charlie Dwyer were relieved to find Cap Gage more his old self at dinner time, able to join in the conversation and enjoy their company.

There were two more responses that evening, a grease fire at a restaurant and a bad MVA with two fatalities. Gage talked over the accident with his men afterwards, discussing the grisly scene and their reactions, letting them cope with it as best they could before he called lights out.

The rest of the shift was uneventful and Johnny whistled as he turned over the station to the A-Shift captain the next morning. He was hoping for a few days of privacy and relaxation to get better acquainted with his son.

***************

After going over the scene in the hospital in his mind until it was numb, J.R. concluded that his intrusion into John Gage's life was unfair. He brought all his hopes with him to L.A. and expected some stranger to live up to them. They were going to get together over their days off and become more acquainted. Suddenly that sounded like a bad idea.

There was a knock at the door and he opened it to find John Gage standing in the hall, hands in his hip pockets biting his lower lip nervously.

J.R. motioned his father to come in. His cousin Aaron wasn't home and it seemed like an opportune time to tell Johnny that he had changed his mind about spending time together. He opened his mouth to do just that, but nothing came out. It was as if his tongue and lips were conspiring with his throat to keep him from it.

Johnny entered the apartment. It was small, dark and cramped, he noted before clearing his throat and plunging in.

"Um...Son...J.R., I was wondering if you would like to come out to the ranch with me for a couple days. We could talk in private there and I have a guest room that you could use." Johnny added the last as he noted the pillow and old quilt folded up at the end of the sofa, a battered suitcase on the floor nearby.

He saw J.R. start to decline then look at the sofa, which had definitely seen better days. With a small sigh of capitulation, he nodded and scribbled a note to his cousin, sliding it under a magnet on the front of the refrigerator before picking up his suitcase. He motioned to the door in an "after you" gesture and followed his father into the hall.

J.R. wandered idly around his father's house feeling a little like an intruder and a little like a kid in a candy store. The ranch house had a wide-open feel to it, not at all like the claustrophobic apartments he and his mother always seemed to end up in. Framed photographs of mountain vistas and waterfalls gave a further feeling of embracing the outdoors. The pine mantle held some pictures of people that piqued his curiosity, but the most entrancing feature of his father's home was the way the whole place subtly paid tribute to his Native American background. The rich colors and textures of the woven throws and rugs and small art pieces blended perfectly with the worn leather sofa and warm pine paneling in a home that was uniquely Johnny's.

The only jarring note was a rather garish patchwork pillow in mod colors, crookedly stitched and lumpy. J.R. smiled to himself. He bet there was a story behind that pillow. He was anxious to ask Johnny about all kinds of things, not the least of which was his own Native American heritage. That had been a forbidden subject with his grandparents and his mother just didn't know.

They came to an uneasy truce. J.R. needed a place to live and when Johnny offered his guest room, curiosity overcame caution and he accepted. It would be a chance to get to know each other and decide what, if anything, they wanted in the way of a father-son relationship. As a condition to the arrangement, J.R. offered to pay rent. It would put him under less obligation if they decided to part ways.

There had been a lot of partings in his life already. Remaining aloof was a good way to avoid pain. Pain of loss, pain of rejection, pain of never really belonging anywhere, all were part of his life. All were feelings he wasn't anxious to repeat.

********************
Jason exited the plane and made his way to a telephone. No reason to take a taxi----he was paying his nephew well to do his bidding, and his bidding now was to pick him up at the airport and take him to find John Gage...by way of a gun dealer.

A conversation with Aaron revealed that J.R. was currently staying with his father, having left his cousin's apartment yesterday. The two Gages would both be working tomorrow and would get off Thursday morning. For today they would watch...and wait. Jason didn't want any mistakes. He wanted to be in total control of the time and place he would shoot and kill John Gage.

Aaron McGuire was a veritable treasure trove of useful contacts. He knew where to find an inexpensive and unremarkable rental car. He knew where to buy a 38-special with the serial number filed off from a dealer who asked no questions. He knew where John Gage lived, what kind of car he drove and a good place from which to watch the ranch. He even knew when the shift change occurred at all the fire stations in L.A. County. He knew when John Gage would be dropping off his son at Station 15...and when he would be picking him up.

With all this knowledge, Jason was able to choose the time and place of Johnny's demise.
He would be in position and ready. He would watch the half-breed die. And he would be avenged. Now he would rest. He was in control.

********************

Two days of riding, talking and working together gave J.R. an appreciation for all his father had accomplished with the ranch. They talked of likes and dislikes, hobbies, favorite foods and music. They talked of camping trips, the Fire Academy, current events and cars. They didn't talk about Johnny's past, J.R.'s mother, or what the father and son wanted from each other.

Johnny felt the superficiality of the conversations he had with J.R., but he hoped that time and trust would bring understanding. It was still too soon to bring out all the hurtful stuff. It was still too soon to talk about the past. They were still, for all practical purposes, strangers.

But, it was a start. Tomorrow they would be back at work and the next night was dinner at the DeSoto's house. Good thing, too, Johnny had exhausted his repertoire of menus and Joanne was a good cook.

From behind a small grove of trees in the meadow in back of Johnny's ranch, Jason watched and seethed as the two men he had come to hate most in the world kept company with one another. He watched Johnny give J.R. lessons in how to saddle and ride a horse and saw the two relax on the porch to enjoy the sunset and watch the stars come out. He would have been even angrier to overhear the legend Johnny was telling his son about Coyote who caught a Star as it came over the mountain top and danced with it across the night sky.

As the lights went out in the ranch house, Jason McGuire left to return to his hotel room. He only had another day and a half to wait.

********************

"ENGINE 99...STATION 15...TRUCK 127...MAN TRAPPED ON A LEDGE...122 REPPERT...1-2-2 REPPERT...CROSS STREET WARNER...TIME OUT 07:25"

Captain Riley handed the call slip to Winston then skirted the squad to jump into the engine beside Del Nichols before they pulled out into traffic and headed downtown. It was a bad way to end a long busy shift. He hated heights and this was likely a jumper, somebody that was willing to endanger other people. Somebody with nothing to lose.

Riley, as the first station captain to arrive, was the incident commander. He knew DeSoto would be here soon and was hoping that Truck 127, the snorkel truck, would show up before they had to send Winston and Crawford out onto the ledge after that guy.

The victim turned out not to be a jumper after all, just a very scared burglar chased out the window and on to the ledge by a very angry rottweiler. The dog was still barking and growling as he leaned on the window sill keeping the burglar pinned to a very small corner of the ledge, out of reach of his snapping jaws.

The apartment manager tried, without success, to reach the tenant and Captain Riley called for animal control. One way and another there didn't seem to be much time for the man on the ledge who was desperately cringing into the corner and trying to find something to hold on to. Winston and Crawford headed for the roof of the building with lifebelts and ropes, prepared to rappel down to the victim. They were less than thrilled, however, about facing the dog. Reluctantly, Riley motioned the rest of his crew to follow him to the roof and man the lines for the paramedics.

Officer Vince Howard and his partner showed up at the same time Engine 99 pulled up to the curb. Riley filled in Captain DeSoto over the HT and requested that 99's engine crew join them on the roof. There was nothing up there to secure the lines, so the paramedics were going to be relying on manpower alone to anchor the ropes. Vince told his partner to remain below and trotted toward the elevator with Roy's men.

Winston went over the side first with an extra lifebelt, Crawford having to wait for 99's men to help hold his line. They could hear an altercation taking place between Winston and the burglar as he sought to get the belt on the frightened victim. Nichols, J.R. and Cap Riley were holding Winston's rope when they felt it suddenly lurch forward as the burglar clutched frantically to Winston. The added weight threatened to send the paramedic and his victim crashing to the ground as the men on the roof lost traction.

J.R. dug in with his heels, throwing everything he had into keeping that rope from moving, but time seemed to stand still as the three men were drawn slowly toward the ledge in a deadly tug-o-war. The other member of 15's crew was helping to secure the ropes to Crawford's harness and failed to notice the plight of his shiftmates.

"Hey! Give us a hand! We're losing them," Captain Riley called frantically.

Immediately perceiving the danger as his engine crew emerged on the roof, Roy DeSoto hurried to grip the rope behind one of 15's men who was rapidly losing ground as the group was pulled toward the edge of the roof. The turnout coat in front of him had the name "GAGE" stenciled on it and the grunts and groans issuing from the person under it sounded eerily familiar.

Suddenly the burden eased as the men from Engine 99 threw their strength into the struggle. As quickly as could be done the paramedic and his charge were drawn up to the roof and over the top. Winston was exhausted from supporting the whole weight of the burglar and collapsed in a heap on the roof, sweating and panting.

Vince took the burglar into custody and nodded at the weary firefighters as he handcuffed his charge and escorted him none too gently down to his waiting patrol car.

Roy expected to see Johnny when the men turned around to thank their colleagues. He hadn't seen J.R. since the afternoon at the hospital and was startled again at the uncanny resemblance to his former partner.

J.R. held out his hand, noting the "skunk stripe" on the helmet of the man in front of him. "Cap, thank ya. I thought we were goin' over."

Roy hesitated before taking the proffered hand and nodding. "J.R." he acknowledged turning away. Then he turned back briefly and gave a half-smile, "See you tomorrow night."

Reading the name on the back of Roy's turnout, J.R. realized that this was Captain
DeSoto----Roy----his father's best friend.

********************

Johnny's Rover sat in the parking lot behind Station 15 waiting for C-Shift to return. The guys from A-Shift gave him some funny looks as they entered the station, but he just waved. He knew that the 15's was toned out that morning not long before shift change, so there would most likely be some time to wait before J.R. got back. He looked at his watch; it was 8:15 now. A-Shift was inside the building and he was in the parking lot alone.

Not far away, crouching behind the decorative hedge that separated Station 15 from the convenience store next door, Jason McGuire made ready to finally have his revenge. The situation was perfect. None of the firemen in the building were standing near the open rear bay door and John Gage was alone...and vulnerable. He stood and hid the gun behind his back then approached the Rover.

The morning D.J.'s were making Johnny smile with their usual jokes intended to lighten the hearts of commuters when a shadow fell over his left shoulder. He looked up inquiringly at the mid-sixty-ish man with salt-and-pepper hair as he stood looking down at Gage.

Johnny leaned over and turned down the radio before inquiring, "Can I help you?"

"I've waited a long time for this, John Gage," the man stated, beginning to smile.

Uneasily the captain cleared his throat and asked, "Do I know you?"

"No," Jason replied, allowing his anger to take over, "but you knew my daughter you slimy piece of Indian filth." Jason pulled out the 38-special and pointed at a spot between Johnny's eyes.

"Wh...What? What do you want with me?" Johnny's eyes widened in panic as he stared down the bore of the pistol held in hands shaking with anger.

"That's easy...I want you dead."

Neither paid any attention to the engine and squad backing into the station, but J.R. spotted the familiar figure as they pulled into the drive.

"Oh shit! He's gonna kill my father!" J.R. yelled before he jumped from his seat behind Cap Riley. Del Nichols parked the engine and ran to the back while Riley called in a request for the police from his radio in the cab. The other firemen of both shifts ran out to the parking lot.

"No!" J.R. shouted, running toward the Rover, his heart in his throat.

Jason shifted his aim toward J.R. effectively halting him as Johnny moved to open the door of the truck.

"Don't!" the furious McGuire cried over his shoulder, "or I'll kill your brat first...I swear!"

Johnny froze. As Jason McGuire kept his gun trained on J.R., he instructed the elder Gage to move over beside his son, backing into a more advantageous position from which to keep both men in his sights. He could hear the approaching sirens as he took a final look at the man he had hated for twenty years.

"Goodbye, John Gage," he said simply and raised the gun to fire.

Suddenly Jason found himself knocked on his back the gun flying from his hand as Del Nichols trained an inch-and-a-half full force on the now-harmless man. Unable to rise until police officers signaled Del to shut off the water, the thwarted would-be killer was taken into custody. J.R. sank to his knees, his shaking hands running nervously through his dark hair.

"You alright?" Nichols asked J.R. solicitously as he joined Johnny in helping the young man to his feet.

"Yeah. Thanks, Del, you saved our lives."

"I owed you one, Gage," Nichols replied to J.R. before he nodded a silent farewell to Johnny and walked away.

"Don't sweat it J.R.," Winston said from amid the group of firefighters that came to surround the pair in the parking lot. "You've got brothers to take care of you." He winked at both men and walked toward the station, the rest of the group in his wake.

"That was your grandfather, wasn't it?" Johnny asked his son.

"Yeah." J.R. said, staring at the pavement where his booted foot was tracing small circles on the asphalt. Suddenly he looked up, for once his eyes shining.

"Hey, they didn't call me Probie!"

THE END

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The story of Coyote Who Danced With a Star is a Cheyenne legend and can be found in
"American Indian Myths and Legends", Copyright 1984 by Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz.

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