A noise. What the . . . ? Aw, forget it, Gage, go back to sleep.

Still this annoying buzz, incessant, determined to catch his attention. Blindly John Gage reached for the sound, groping around and finally finding the off button. He only noticed when he woke up that he had fallen asleep again. Something was not quite right. Why was it so light outside? Slowly the reason for this "strange phenomenon" began to sink in, his mind finally snapping out of the dozing state it had been in for the past eight hours.

Late. Again!

"Oh, shit, Cap's gonna kill me!" John Gage didn't know how many times these words had slipped out of his mouth. Too many times, anyway.

Realizing the predicament he would find himself in if he were late this morning was enough to make him jump out of his bed, grab his clothes and run into the bathroom in practically one movement.

It was less than twenty minutes later that a freshly showered, cleanly shaved and a little less sleepy Los Angeles County Paramedic flew out of his apartment and frantically locked the door behind him.

He had barely finished the thought when an immense force slammed him against the wall. Air exploded from his lungs as the breath was knocked out of him. His head cracked viciously against the rough concrete, his vision darkening as stars danced in front of his eyes. Vaguely, he was aware of a crushing weight against his throat, slowly but effectively shutting down his windpipe.

A voice filled the air, finding its way through his dazed consciousness. "Ha, Gage, thought I forgot ya, didn't ya?"

"Wha . . . ?" The pressure tightened, preventing any other noise from exiting Johnny's mouth.

"Shut up! Don't you think I forgot about what you did to my kid brother! You'll pay for it! And, I will be there and enjoy every minute of it! Beware, Gage."

The tightening around his neck was suddenly gone, allowing precious oxygen to work its way into his system once again.

Johnny's relief was short-lived. As soon as the air had filled his lungs it was forced out again as a tight fist slammed into his solar plexus, another into his ribs. Johnny doubled up in pain, sinking to the floor as he fought to catch his breath. Vaguely, he was aware of receding footsteps and the words, "Watch your back, Gage!" as he slowly, painfully sat up.

*****

"DeSoto! In my office!"

"Uh oh, Roy, what did you do? Did your partner finally rub off on you?"

"Shut up, Chet!"

"No need to be so testy, Roy. It was only a matter of time before . . ."

The rest of Chet Kelly's words were lost on Roy as he stepped into the engine bay and disappeared into Captain Stanley's office. He closed the door.

"What's up, Cap?"

Captain Stanley leaned against his desk and looked at Roy for a long moment before saying anything. "Where's Gage?"

"Don't know, Cap. Late again. It's not yet time for roll call, so don't worry. He'll make it in time."

Again the Captain paused. "I don't know, Roy, do you think he . . ."

He was interrupted when they heard a commotion in the engine room, followed by an unmistakably Gage "Shut up, Chet!"

Roy smiled. "See?"

Stanley's features relaxed visibly. "Sometimes I don't know what's going on in that head of his."

"Who does, Cap?"

"Guess you're right. Get over to Gage and see to it that he makes it to roll call in time."

"Sure, Cap." Roy nodded and left the room. He found his wayward partner changing. "Hey, Junior, finally made it to the station?"

"Yeah," was the curt reply.

"And?"

"And, what?"

"What happened?" Roy sat down in the locker room, observing his partner's lanky form. Johnny hadn't turned to greet him, but kept rummaging in his locker, fishing out a uniform shirt and trousers.

"Nothing. Just overslept." Well, at least that's half the truth. As Johnny bent down to pick up his shoes his ribs and stomach protested in pain. An involuntary groan escaped his lips.

Alarm bells began to go off in Roy's head. He stood up, eyeing his partner more closely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Roy. Just let me get dressed, will you? Cap's gonna skin me alive if I'm late again for roll call." Johnny's voice was tight, hardly hiding the fact that something hurt him. Roy knew him pretty well.

The senior paramedic nodded, deciding to drop the matter for the time being but determined to keep an eye on his friend. "All right, then." And, after a quick look at his watch: "You'd better hurry." To himself, he added, Oh, boy, this is gonna be one of those shifts . . .

*****

"Station 51, unknown type rescue, 2364 West Lancaster Avenue. Two-three-six-four West Lancaster Avenue. Time-out: 9.54."

Johnny dropped the cloth with which he had been polishing the squad and ran to the passenger door. Roy handed him the call slip and they were on their way almost before he had closed his door, the engine right behind them.

The ride took them less than 10 minutes, and they pulled to a stop in front of a neat-looking house.

"Is that the place?" Roy asked.

"Well, it's number 2364. It should be right."

"Okay, let's take a look."

The paramedics grabbed their basic equipment out of the compartments and met Stanley and the others at the front door. Stanley knocked.

"Fire Department, open up." No answer. He tried again. "LA County Fire Department!"

"Come on in!" The female voice carried a mixture of anger and worry.

Roy found the door unlocked and went in with Johnny, the rest of the crew close behind them.

"Where are you, Ma'am?"

"On the left, on the living room."

As they rounded the corner Roy stopped short, causing Johnny to bump into him.

And I thought I'd seen everything . . .

The look on John's face corroborated the senior paramedic's line of thoughts.

In the living room floor was a gaping hole, obviously a kind of trap door leading the way to a cellar below. In the hole stuck a huge man, only his torso visible, the lower part of his body vanishing from vision.

"I told him the frame would be too small for him. I told him so. Last time he climbed down there was over ten years ago. No problem then, but now . . ." The wife gestured to her husband's awkward position. Roy and Johnny proceeded to their patient and set down their gear nearby.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Bob Peterson. Call me Bob, guys."

"All right . . . Bob. My name's Roy DeSoto, I'm a rescue paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. This is my partner, John Gage. Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Well, the frame of that darn door is not too comfortable, you know? I don't think I seriously got myself injured, tough."

"Okay, Bob, we're going to take your vital signs now, all right? Don't worry, it won't hurt."

Since the victim’s arms were free, it was no problem for the senior paramedic to take his blood pressure and pulse. Johnny, meanwhile, had set up the bio-phone and established a line to Rampart General.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51."

"Rampart Base. Go ahead, 51." Dixie's voice came over the wire, slightly filtered by the phone.

"Rampart, we have a male victim, approximately 62 years old--"

"He's 63," Mrs. Peterson corrected.

"Correction, Rampart, victim is 63 years of age, currently stuck in a trap door in his living-room." Johnny could practically see Dixie raising her eyebrow at the other end of the line. "Stand by for vitals, Rampart."

"10-4, 51."

Roy didn't need to be prompted. "Pulse is 92, BP 120/60, respirations are 20."

Johnny relayed the information to Rampart General, simultaneously jotting the numbers down.

"10-4, 51. Keep us informed about any possible injuries."

Johnny acknowledged, then turned to his colleagues. "How do we get him out of there?"

"Well, I'd say the most logical conclusion would be to combine forces and try to haul him out," Captain Stanley suggested.

The firemen positioned themselves as best as they could around the hapless victim, each taking hold of his arms and shoulders and pulling back with all their might.

"Ow, stop it, stop it! It hurts!"

"Hold it!" Roy commanded. "This won't work, Cap. Bob, where does it hurt?"

"My ribs, I think one of my ribs cracked."

I know what you mean Bob. I know too damn well! Johnny tried to keep his attention away from his own sore ribcage, attempting to focus on the situation at hand.

Roy continued to calm the man down. "All right, Bob, stay calm, okay? We'll have you out of there in no time. Johnny, maybe some lubricant will work. Could you get me the tube?"

A few minutes later Roy had applied the lubricant as well as he could between the man's body and the frame of the door.

"All right, guys, let's try again."

On three, Kelly, Lopez, Stoker and Gage gave a second mighty pull, this time being rewarded by a resounding 'plop' as Bob Peterson's body all at once came free.

The sudden lack of weight caused the four firemen to stumble backwards, their burden landing on top of them awkwardly. Roy stifled a laugh and forced himself back into paramedic mode, helping Bob off of his colleagues.

"How are you doing, Bob?"

"I think I'm fine, thank you, lad."

"What about your ribs? Let me take a look at them." DeSoto palpated gently for a minute, then turned to Johnny. "I don't think anything's broken, but it might be cracked."

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. Victim is extricated. Patient reports a pain in his ribcage. There's the possibility of a cracked 4th rib on the left side."

"51, tape ribs in question and transport, just to play it safe."

"10-4, Rampart." Johnny turned to the others. "Cap, would you respond an ambulance?"

"Ambulance?" Bob interrupted. "I don't need an ambulance! I'm fine. Just a little bruised."

Roy frowned. "If that's the case, sir, I'll need you to sign these papers here, that you're refusing treatment." He handed the MICU form to the man, along with a pen. As Bob scribbled down his name, Roy continued: "I'd advise you, though, to see your own doctor as soon as possible. Just to be on the safe side."

"I will, I will. Thank you very much, guys. I really thought I was stuck there for good." He shook hands with Johnny and Roy. "Paramedics, eh? I'll recommend ya!"

"Thank you, sir. And be careful."

*****

The ride back to the station was unusually quiet.

"Okay, what's up, John?"

The fact that Roy was not using Johnny's nickname was not lost on Gage.

"Nothing. What should be up?"

"Johnny, you know you're gonna tell me sooner or later. Why don't just spit out whatever's bothering you?"

"Roy, I . . ."

"You know I won't tell anyone."

"I know, Roy, it's just . . . It's a rather long story and we're almost back to the station anyway. Another time, okay?"

Roy hesitated. "All right, Johnny. Whenever you're ready." Something's not right. In retrospect Roy remembered Johnny's pained expression when Bob had caused the four of them to tumble backwards. The low, but nevertheless audible groan this morning in the locker room still echoed in DeSoto's ears. He decided not to let his troubled partner out of sight.

*****

The morning and afternoon passed slowly for the crew of 51's. The squad was called out for a heart attack victim and a kid stuck in a dog door. But, on the whole, the day had been uneventful.

"Man, this sitting around drives me crazy! The entire shift's been this way!" Chet complained.

"Shut up, Chet! If you keep saying that, the night's programmed to be busy as hell!"

"Aw, come on, Marco, that has no influence on our calls . . ."

"Engine 51, dumpster fire, 313 Ellison Road, three-one-three Ellison Road, time-out 18:15."

"See?"

"Engine 51, 10-4, KMG 365."

The engine crew raced to 'Big Red', leaving the station in a hurry. The sudden yet familiar quiet in the station was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone in the day room. Roy went to get it.

"LA County Fire Department, Station 51, Fireman DeSoto."

"I wanna speak to Gage."

"Who's calling?"

"None of your damn business. Get me Gage."

Roy was slightly taken aback by the man's demeanor. He covered the mouth piece with his hand and hollered: "Johnny, phone for you!" It was only then that he consciously realized that his partner had avoided company all day.

"Johnny!"

“Coming!" Gage rounded the corner of the door, and Roy handed him the receiver.

"Fireman Gage."

"Fireman Gage. What a fine little title you got there. I wonder how much longer you'll be able to call yourself 'fireman'? Maybe you won't live to answer the phone again, sonny boy."

"What the hell do you want from me?"

"You know exactly what I want and why I want it. Oh, and sonny boy, don't even think about telling anyone about this. Watch your back, Gage." Before Johnny could say anything he heard a click. The man had hung up. Frustrated he slammed the receiver on its cradle.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" At first Roy thought Johnny would give him the same old line, turn away from him again.

Johnny's shoulders slumped, all anger and frustration deserting him. Slowly, he sank into a nearby chair.

Roy following his example. "So?" he prodded gently.

John looked at him, suddenly appearing much younger than his 26 years. "Roy, I . . . I don't know what to do."

Roy remained silent, waiting.

"All right. It was a long time ago. Eight, ten years, maybe. My best friend, Billy Reynolds, and me were hiking in the mountains. We had a lot of fun that day. Always joking around and in between talking about our future dream careers. Bill always wanted to be a policeman. At the time I actually had no idea what to do after school, I only knew that I didn't want to join the cops. We both knew our ways would part one day, each of us going into another direction. We had no idea how soon we would be . . . that . . ."

Johnny's face twisted slightly. Roy waited patiently.

"After some time we decided to turn back. It was already getting colder and we had to get back to our campsite. As usual, we took a short cut. It was a bit more difficult, but we'd done it lots of times before. At one point the path grew quite narrow, but, hey, we were experts, we could manage . . ."

Johnny smiled sadly. "We could manage everything. Suddenly, Billy lost his footing and stumbled over the edge. I threw myself forward, was able to catch his arm as he dangled a hundred feet over a steep ravine. I can still hear his screams today. Johnny, don't let me fall, pull me up! Please, Johnny, help me! Please! I . . . I did my best, Roy, I held on as best as I could, but I didn't have the strength to pull him up. I had been able to hook an ankle behind some sort of tree, so I wouldn't fall myself."

Again, Johnny paused. "I don't know how long we hung there like that. It seemed like an eternity to me. Then . . . inch by inch his arm slipped out of my hands. He fell."

Roy stared at him, horrified by Johnny' s story. After a minute, he laid a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder as Gage took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"I had nightmares about it for ages. It took a lot of time, but somehow I got through it. I guess it was in those times that I first seriously thought about joining the Fire Department. I wanted to help people, do a better job than on that day in the mountains. Throughout the years I managed to forget the accident. Until this morning."

"What happened?"

"Well, I . . . kind of overslept."

Roy shook his head in resignation. "How do you ever manage to oversleep, Johnny?"

“Well, the alarm clock was quite effective - until I put it off, and . . ."

". . . and went back to sleep faster than you can say 'D5W TKO'."

Johnny's mouth pulled into a shy grin. "Guess so."

"So, what happened next?"

"I dressed in record time, burst through my apartment door and - wham! I saw stars!"

Roy's forehead creased in worry.

"Anyway, apparently Billy's older brother seems to believe that I let Billy die without doing anything to help him."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Nah, not really."

"Johnny . . ."

"All right, he kind of mistook me for a punching ball," Johnny admitted, unconsciously draping his arm across his hurting ribs.

"Let me take a look."

"At what?"

"Do you think I missed that suppressed groan this morning or your face when the guys landed on top of you?"

Johnny knew the look in Roy's eyes, which silently told him he wouldn't back down on this matter. Dejected, he stood up and pulled his shirt out of his trousers, revealing purple bruises on his side.

Roy's eyes grew wide, taking in the extent of the bruising. "'Not really,' eh?" Gently, he checked for cracks or fractures, making his partner gasp in pain."I'm not sure if no rib is broken, Johnny. Better let Brackett have a look next time we're at Rampart."

"Oh, come on . . ."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"Roy, I'm fine, okay? I have other concerns right now."

"He threatened you?"

"He keeps telling me to 'watch my back.' And that I'll pay for what I apparently did to Billy." Johnny's face sobered again as he stuffed his shirt back into place.

"Thought about telling Vince?"

"I don't know. He told me not to say anything to anyone. I guess that includes the police."

After a brief moment of silence Roy said: "Johnny, you have to tell the police. I have no idea if he only wants to shake you up or --"

"Well, that plan worked."

"-- or if he really wants to hurt you. Dammit, this job is dangerous enough without maniacs like this."

"You really think I should tell Vince?"

"I believe it would be the wisest thing to do. And, I guess you should tell the Cap, too. He needs to be informed, anyway."

Gage didn't look too pleased with the idea of informing the police. "Roy?"

"Yeah."

"You watch out for me, right?"

"As always, Junior. As always."

Johnny attempted his infamous crooked grin, but somehow was not really successful.

*****

"Who's cooking tonight?" Marco asked.

"Yeah, I could eat a horse right now," Chet chimed.

"I think it's Roy's turn. So, Roy, what's on?"

The rest of the crew had just returned from their last call, sooty, grimy and obviously hungry. Roy turned around from the sink in the kitchen when his colleagues entered the room.

"Chicken sandwiches and coffee."

"Chicken sandwiches and coffee? In the evening?"

"Quit complaining, Kelly," Captain Stanley said sternly. "Unless you' d like a month of latrine duty?"

Chet opened and closed his mouth. He had done a lot more than his share of latrine duty, a fact which was largely due to his big mouth.

"However," Roy continued, "as I keep telling my children: No dinner with dirty hands, guys. Dinner will be served when everyone is clean as a whistle."

He didn't get as much argument as from his kids, but it still amused him when he saw the sullen looks on the men's faces as they trudged towards the bathroom.

Only Cap seemed unaffected by Roy's reprimand, having repeated to his own children pretty much the same sentence over and over again for many years.

When they finally settled around the table the guys didn't fail to notice Johnny's obvious lack of appetite.

"What's the matter, Gage, not hungry? Did you clean out the fridge while the rest of us real fire-fighters did our jobs?"

"Shut up, Chet!" Johnny snapped, finally taking a little bite of his sandwich.

"Squad 51, man down with possible heart-attack. 587 Luxford Street, five-eight-seven Luxford Street. Time out 18:36."

"Some dinner," Roy mumbled while Stanley acknowledged the call and handed Roy the call slip.

*****

"So, Doc, will he make it?" Johnny asked as Dr Early stepped out of the treatment room.

"It didn't look too good when you two brought him in, but he's stable now. He has a fair chance of a full recovery. Time will tell."

"Oh. That's something, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

"Doc, do you . . ." Roy began, but was interrupted by Early's beeper, which urged him to the ICU.

"Sorry, guys, gotta go. See you later."

Inwardly Johnny sighed. He knew too well what his partner had wanted to say. As if in response to his thoughts, Roy said, "Don't think you're off the hook."

As luck would have it Doctor Brackett just then approached the Nurse's Station, definitely headed for the coffee pot.

"Doctor Brackett, could you spare a minute?" Roy asked. Johnny didn't bother to look up at the Chief of Emergency Medicine as the latter changed course and joined them.

"Sure, Roy, what's up?"

"Well, I guess I know someone who could use a little medical attention, although he probably would never admit it."

A mixture of understanding and concern crossed Brackett's face as it dawned upon him who that someone could be.

"Exam 2 is free. Come on, John."

Gage looked up at that remark. How did he . . . ? Oh, never mind. Too late for escape, anyway.

When the door had closed behind them, Kel asked, "What happened this time, Johnny?"

"Just a little run-in with a wall." Gage could feel Roy's reproachful gaze upon him without looking at him.

"Is that all?"

Heck, Brackett would find out anyway. "And a fist."

"A fist? Did this happen on duty?"

"Not exactly," Johnny said, taking off his uniform shirt. He sat down on the exam table.

Brackett's eyebrows arched, his face bearing an expression similar to the one Gage had seen on Roy's features earlier. Like the senior paramedic, he palpated carefully for a moment.

"Well, I don't think anything's broken, but I'd like an x-ray, nevertheless. Did you get hurt anywhere else?"

"I'm fine."

"'I burst through my apartment door, and--wham! I saw stars'," Roy quoted matter-of-factly, managing a fair Johnny Gage impression. Brackett looked at Roy quizzically, then an expression of resignation passed across his face.

"You saw stars? Did that 'fist' hit your face?" He took a closer look. "I don't see any swellings."

Johnny shot Roy a murderous look, then returned his attention to the doctor. "The guy slammed me against the wall and I cracked my head a bit."

"Enough to make you see stars, I presume. Let me take a look, there should be quite a bump."

You bet your stethoscope there is. Johnny had hoped that it would go unnoticed by the physician, but those chances were getting mighty slim."Ow!"

"As I said, quite a bump. You're lucky it didn't bleed, although that doesn't rule out the possibility of a concussion." He took out his penlight and shone into the younger man's eyes.

Gage squirmed away. "Doc, is this really necessary?"

"You know the drill, Johnny. Look at my shoulder please."

Gage sighed, but did as he was told.

"Equal and reactive," Brackett murmured. "Any dizziness or nausea?"

"No."

"Headache?"

"Yeah, a bit." Johnny admitted.

"All right. The x-ray unit will be here in a few minutes. Then, we'll know more."

*****

"You're lucky, John," Brackett said a half hour later, studying the chest x-rays. "No rib is broken, but the third on the left seems to be cracked. I'll tape it up, and then you're on your way." When he put the finishing touches to the bandages Kel asked, "What did you do to tempt someone to beat you up like this?"

"I don't know, I . . ."

The handie-talkie on Roy's belt beeped. "Squad 51, are you available?"

Roy looked questioningly at Brackett, who nodded. "Affirmative. Squad 51 available from Rampart General."

“Squad 51, woman in distress. 503 Mulberry Street, five-oh-three Mulberry Street. Time out 20:28."

"10-4."

Johnny jumped up from the table. "Thanks, Doc."

"Any time. Roy, watch him for signs of a concussion. Any symptoms and you bring him in."

"Sure, Doc. See ya."

*****

"How do they do it, Roy? How do people always get themselves into such situations? I mean, how do you get yourself into a washing machine?"

"I don't know, Johnny," Roy honestly replied. "But, I think I know someone who just as easily 'gets himself into such situations'."

For a moment Johnny stared blankly at him, and when Roy couldn't hold back a grin any longer, Johnny's face darkened. "Oh, funny, Roy, really funny."

"You gonna talk to Cap?" Roy said after a brief pause.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"I don't think so, Junior. I don't think so."

*****

A quarter of an hour later Johnny and Roy sat in their captain's office, informing him about the troublesome situation Gage found himself in.

After a while Stanley said thoughtfully, "John, I agree with Roy's suggestion. We should call Vince Howard. Tell him what all this is about and let him decide which steps are necessary. I'll give him a call right away."

"Cap, please don't call the police station. If Reynolds gets to know about this I think I'm in serious trouble."

"You are in serious trouble already, John."

"I realize that."

"All right, I think the shift at the police station ended about nine o'clock, anyway. Let's see, it's almost half past ten. He was on duty today, so he should be home by now. Is it all right with you if I call him privately?"

"I guess it's our best bet."

"Okay. We'll get over this, John. Don't let it eat you up. Remember, we're at least six to one at any rescue. He'd be foolhardy to try anything while you're on duty."

"He's foolhardy to begin with," Johnny said glumly, rising out of his chair and heading for the bunkroom.

*****

The next shift found Roy pouring his first cup of coffee of the day when a young man about 25 years old entered the dayroom.

"Hi, there. I'm looking for Captain Hank Stanley. Where can I find him?"

Roy looked at the blond newcomer. He wore a fireman's uniform, his striking features and blue eyes giving the impression of an easy-going appearance. "I think he's in his office. I'll show you the way. My name's Roy DeSoto."

"Steve Sloan."

They shook hands.

"So, who did you the immense favor to send you to 51's, the biggest and most thrilling station of the district?"

The man just smiled. "Who knows? I only know I'm supposed to report to Captain Stanley this morning."

Roy knocked on the door, and after the expected "Come!" opened the door. "Cap, Steve Sloan here wants to talk to you."

"Sloan, I've already expected you. I . . ." Roy closed the door after Steve had entered the office, and went back to the kitchen. Just as he had reached his coffee cup, John and Chet joined him, the stocky Irishman already jibing his crewmate about being so early this morning.

Maybe, if Chet had studied Johnny a little closer he probably would have noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired, worn out, not at all like a man who had had a day off. Maybe the Phantom would have had enough mercy to warn Gage as he absent-mindedly approached the fridge.

"Aaaaahhhhh! Chet!!" An ice-cold water bomb hit Gage soundly in the face, drenching his uniform-shirt and the upper half of his pants completely. He danced away from the refrigerator, soaked in freezing water and shivering--the sudden shock and his anger combining inside him and making him look like, well, a very wet and angry fireman.

Roy had a hard time not choking on his coffee. He fought hard to keep a neutral expression on his face. His partner never seemed to learn. The Phantom's traps seemed to attract him magnetically. On the other hand, who'd expect a water bomb in the fridge? Just as he waited for any kind of reaction other than his initial outcry, the Cap yelled: "Gage, DeSoto! My office!"

As Johnny passed Chet he said, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "You enjoying yourself, Chester B.?"

Chet grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Immensely."

"That's nice, Chester B. Really nice. Keep it on while it lasts, which certainly won't be that much longer, count on it."

"I'm scared, Gage." Chet' s words followed the others out of the room.

As Gage and DeSoto entered Stanley's office, their captain sighed when he saw his younger paramedic's condition. He shook his head in desperation."Steve Sloan, this dripping fireman here is John Gage. I believe you've already met Roy DeSoto. The momentarily drier half of my paramedic team," he added with a stern look in Gage's direction.

Johnny shook hands with Sloan. "Hi, you new here?"

"Well, kind of," Steve admitted. "Actually, I am Detective Steve Sloan, Los Angeles Police Department. I've been assigned to this station as an undercover agent. Captain Stanley has brought me up to date with your situation. However, I'd like to talk to you personally."

"Sure, no problem. If you don't mind, though, I'd appreciate it if I could change into something dry first. It's getting pretty cold."

"Of course, go ahead."

*****

It was a matter of luck, but the conversation between Johnny and Steve was thankfully not interrupted by the klaxons. Captain Stanley ordered his troops together in the dayroom. The crew had to be informed about Steve's identity and John had agreed to let Sloan tell them about his precarious situation.

The men became unusually quiet when they were told the truth about Steve's reason for this undercover operation.

"Basically, I'm here to keep an eye on Gage and his surroundings. I am quite aware of the fact that the five of you will be more capable of watching out for your colleague than me; however, as opposed to you, I am trained to look for anything unusual, be it a suspicious face in a crowd or a weird-acting fireman. Anything out of the ordinary. After all, you guys are focused on the catastrophe at hand. You have other problems to take care of. I will stick around with a note book and pretend I'm making notes about the fires."

"Detective, we all call ourselves by our first names. You'd be less conspicuous if we could call you Steve," Marco suggested.

"Fine by me," Steve agreed.

After introductions had been made, Hank said, "Steve, you'll be riding on the squad. And remember, it is cleared with the Chief that you are supposed to be a desk jockey, not a hose jockey. Keep away from the fire or any immediate rescue scene if it involves chemicals or any other dangerous stuff."

"Got it, Cap!"

The crew laughed at Steve's easy use of their superior officer's nickname. Everyone but John. He forced a little smile, but his mind was focused on the voice of Bill's older brother which still echoed in his head. Watch your back, Gage.

Nobody of them noticed the figure in the engine bay.

*****

"Squad 51, Engine 51, child stuck on tree. 761 Whispering Oaks Place, seven-six-one Whispering Oaks Place. Time out 8:37."

"Station 51. KMG 365."

The address given to them was a nice neighborhood with lots of oaks and other trees. The approach of the fire vehicles seemed to disturb the peaceful atmosphere as they neared their destination.

A frantic woman came running up to the squad and pulled open the passenger door before Johnny had a chance to do it. He climbed out, the woman trying to speed up the process by taking his arm and pulling in an obvious state of panic.

"Easy, Ma'am. Tell us what happened, we are here to help you. Everything will be fine. What happened?" Johnny gently pried her hands away from his arms as he turned on his Gage charm to calm the woman down.

As so often before, he was successful, for the lady took a deep breath and then said: "My little son. He climbed on the tree in our garden. He's too afraid to come down, and he's awfully high up."

"Please take us to him, Ma'am," Cap said, as Johnny grabbed his safety belt and a rope from the compartment on his side of the squad.

As they arrived in the garden, Roy asked, "What's his name and how old is he?"

"His name's Jesse Travis, he's five."

"Quite a climber for his age, isn't he?"

"That's right, but I think this time he exceeded his limits."

"Don't worry, we'll get him down safely. We do these things all the time," Cap assured her.

Roy called up, "Hey, Jesse, how're you doing up there?"

"I'm scared. I want my mummy."

"No problem, Jesse. Just stay calm for a few more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Jesse sniffed audibly. "I guess so."

"That's perfect, Jesse. We'll have you down here in no time." Roy lowered his voice and addressed his colleagues. "He must be at least 20 feet up."

Johnny put on his safety belt and threw the rope high up, letting it swing around a thick branch, grabbing the down-coming end and handing it to his partner while simultaneously looping the other end through his belt. "I'll climb up and get him. Someone get me a second safety belt for the little guy."

"All right," the Cap agreed. "Roy, you and Chet secure his line."

Again, Roy called up to the boy, "Jesse, my partner Johnny will come up and get you down, okay?"

A little whimper. "Okay."

"A few more minutes and you'll be with your mummy again. Just sit tight."

Johnny meanwhile had a second belt attached to his own and made his way up the tree. When he was halfway up, Gage's foot suddenly hit a wet spot on the trunk and he lost his handholds. He let out a cry of surprise and for a brief second felt himself falling. Then, he was only aware of the familiar tuck of the rope and the safety belt as his fall was jerked to a stop. For a moment he swung back and forth.

Just as he let out a huge sigh of relief, he heard an ominous snap . This time nothing stopped his rapid descend as the ground rushed up to meet him.

Roy and Chet stumbled a step backwards as the rope suddenly gave way. As if in slow motion they saw their friend tumble to the ground, where he lay motionless.

"Johnny!" Roy shouted, hurrying to his partner's side.

Johnny was on his back. He had landed on his feet, but had had enough momentum to get thrown to the ground quite forcefully, anyway. As he stared up at Roy he had a spooked expression on his face.

Roy realized at once what troubled his partner, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Johnny. You got the wind knocked out of you pretty good there. Don't panic. Take slow, deep breaths. Try to relax."

Johnny's legs twitched in growing panic until the invisible constriction around his lungs finally loosened and he was able to breathe again. His features relaxed.

"You all right?" Roy asked.

"I think so," Johnny croaked. He carefully moved his arms and legs, doing a mental inventory of his body. When he was sure nothing was seriously hurt, he slowly sat up.

Roy helped him to his feet as Steve joined them. "I'm gonna go and get me another belt. You take it easy, okay?"

A few moments later Roy wore an identical safety belt and soon made his own way up to the boy. When he had reached him, he smiled at Jesse. "So, you ready to come down, or do you want to stay here for the rest of the day?"

"Wanna go down."

"Okay. Have you hurt yourself?" The paramedic wanted to be sure the child was all right before he attached the second belt to him.

"I have an owie on my arm."

"Let me see. Well, it doesn't look too bad. We'll get you a Band-Aid for that as soon as we're back down, okay?"

"Okay."

"Fine, then let's go." To the others he shouted, "We're coming down now!" He attached the boy's belt to his own and slowly the pair made their way downwards.

While Roy cleaned and dressed the scrape on Jesse's forearm Johnny took his pulse, more out of habit than anything. It seemed a little fast. He took out their BP-cuff.

"His pulse is a little fast; I'm gonna check his blood-pressure, just as a precaution." When he saw Jesse's eyes grow wide with fear, he added. "Don't worry, Jesse. This won’t hurt a bit. It'll be as though someone squeezes your arm really tight for a moment. Funny feeling, isn't it?" Johnny kept distracting the boy while he continued to pump the cuff, and slowly released the pressure.

"The readings are fine. He's probably just a bit scared." While Johnny packed the BP-cuff away, Jesse grabbed his stethoscope and put it in his ears. He put the other end joyfully against Gage's chest. Roy, who put the Band-Aid on, had to smile.

When Jesse earnestly said, "He ain't got a heartbeat." Roy and Steve burst out laughing.

Johnny pretended to be hurt. "What's so funny when I don't have a heartbeat?" he demanded. He returned his attention to the boy: "You wanna hear a heartbeat?"

When Jesse nodded, Johnny grabbed Steve's arm and pulled him down to them. Before the police man could react, Gage had already opened his shirt in one swift movement and put the stethoscope on a certain spot of his chest. Steve just glared at him.

"Hear something?" The gleam in Jesse's eyes told him everything.

When Johnny took the stethoscope back, Jesse told him, "When I grow up I wanna be a doctor!"

"That's a fine profession, Jesse," Steve said, tucking his shirt back in. "You know, my father's a doctor, too."

"Is your father Dr. Mark Sloan?" Roy asked.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"Kind of. He headed the last CCU course. Fine man."

"That he is," Steve said.

To Mrs. Travis Roy said: "I think he's all right, Ma'am. Maybe he shouldn't climb that tree next time. A fall from that height can be pretty nasty."

"I'll see to it, Mr . . ." she squinted at his name tag, "DeSoto. Thank you very much. I'm so glad nothing happened. Is your partner all right, as well?"

"He should be, yes. Bye, Jesse."

"Bye!"

When they had reached their vehicles, Steve said, "What happened up there? Rope fatigue?" He took a look at the rope. It seemed to be okay, no raw spots, and, more importantly, not snapped. "Let me take a look at your safety belt." Johnny picked it up and handed it to Sloan.

"Now, that's interesting. The metal hook seems to have been tampered with."

"Sabotage?"

"Appears that way."

A look of fear passed across Gage's face. "Dammit, how did Reynolds get to our equipment?"

"You think Bill's brother did that?"

"Who else?"

"Then, we have to be extra careful from now on. I suggest you check all your equipment as soon as we're back at the station, Johnny."

"How the hell did he get into our engine bay? Is he gonna be waiting for me when I get home tomorrow morning so he can kill me off with no witnesses?"

"I don't think so, Johnny," Steve said. "He could have done that in front of your apartment the last time you 'met'. I know people like him. He probably wants to drive you more and more crazy. He gets a kick out of seeing you tear yourself apart with fear, seeing you suffer, as insane as that may sound."

"So, what about the belt?"

"Should serve to upset you even further, and, if possible, even hurt you."

Roy interrupted their speculations. "Well, he almost succeeded in hurting you. How are you feeling now?"

"I'm okay," Johnny said, walking away, limping slightly.

"Then, what's wrong with your foot?"

"I twisted my ankle a bit when I fell. Nothing serious. A bit of soaking in hot water and Epsom salts and it'll be as good as new. No need for Rampart, really," he added, when Roy opened his mouth.

Roy didn't look very convinced. "Fine, if you say so. But let me take a look at the station."

"Sure, Dad," John mocked. Roy only shook his head.

*****

That night the guys decided to play a game of poker after dinner. Johnny knew his mind wouldn't be on the game, so he convinced Steve to take his usual place in the game and went to bed early. After about an hour Roy quit the game and went looking for Johnny. He found him in the bunkroom.

Silently, he sat down on his own bed, opposite to Johnny's. "You okay?"

Johnny lay on his bed, an arm on his face, but obviously not asleep. "Yeah."

"Ankle still bothering you?" Arriving at the station, Roy had insisted upon taking a look at Johnny's ankle, which he had afterwards iced and taped.

"A bit. No big deal."

"Good."

When Roy didn't say anything else, John said, "You know, Roy, I've been thinking."

"Shoot."

"I always thought in a job like this you hardly fear anything. I mean, we walk into burning buildings, wedge ourselves in the tightest spots to save someone, face the possibility of explosions almost every day. This job threatens to kill me every day.... Why does this damned Reynolds brother me this way?"

"Everyone of us would be as terrified as you, Johnny. You know, any unwanted intrusion into our privacy shakes us up. It can be something minor like a prank caller. Until you know it's really just a joker you can't sleep through the night."

"Can't he understand that I couldn't help his brother? I did everything I could. Damn it! What the hell does he want from me?"

"The only goal of such men is to see how you get all worked up. Like Steve said, he wants to see you suffer. The positive aspect is that such a procedure buys us time. The police will get that guy, Johnny. It's important that you don't give up."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, Johnny. Our own private little world seems to collapse on us in such situations, doesn't it? Don't forget you have friends, though. We'll be there for you. Nothing will happen to you. Not if we can help it." Roy paused for a moment to let the words sink in. Then, he said, "Of course, I can't guarantee that you don't walk straight into the next disaster, but as your partner I've come to accept those work-related injuries as your normal state of health."

"Ha, ha. As if I were the only one ending up in the hospital every now and then. You've been there at least as often as me." Johnny feigned hurt feelings but the attempt to change the subject was welcome.

"Well, you only have to ask Brackett. He'll tell you the same thing."

"Aw, go away and let me sleep. Falling off trees always makes me a bit tired. What are you smiling at? Go!"

Roy continued to grin from ear to ear. "Getting older, aren't ya? Not bouncing back that quickly anymore. Tsk, tsk, Johnny, guess I can't call you 'Junior' any longer." Still chuckling quietly, Roy ducked the pillow aimed at his head.

*****

The klaxons reverberated through the bunkroom, cruelly tearing the firemen and their temporary observer out of a well-earned sleep.

"Station 51, Engine 16, Ladder Truck 10, structure fire. 2568 Nimsy Street, two-five-six-eight Nimsy Street. Time out: 3:28."

The fire-fighters immediately jumped into their turn-outs and out of habit at once ran to their respective vehicles. It was Mike who had anticipated that Steve wasn't used to night alarms like this and made sure that he wasn't left behind.

*****

From three different directions sirens could be heard as they neared the ominous red glow in the night sky. One final time Dennis Reynolds made sure that he could get out of the burning building by a side window. Expectantly, he looked out. The fire vehicles pulled to a stop in front of the deserted house. With an expression of insane glee in his eyes, Reynolds saw the golden 51 on the side of the squad.

"Tonight, John Roderick Gage, is the time to say good-bye."

*****

"Chet, Marco, take an inch-and-a-half and go to the left side of the building. John, Roy, you do the same on the right." Captain Stanley briefly conferred with Captain Shaffer from 16's as Johnny and Roy heard distraught cries.

"Help, help me! Get me out! Johnny, that you? Help me! Get me out!"

Roy looked questioningly at his partner, but he saw the same look on John's face that probably was on his own face.

"Cap, there's someone in there. We have to go in there."

"Okay, but make it quick. This doesn't look too stable, so one sweep and you're out!"

"Got it!"

Roy and Johnny donned their breathing gear and headed into the building, the cries for help now slightly muffled. Johnny pointed up and Roy nodded. "I think it's coming from the left," Johnny said. To accentuate his words he pointed to the left and led the way.

They opened a few doors. "Anybody in here? Where are you?" When they found the rooms empty they chalked the doors to mark the vacant ones.

The cries grew louder, and Gage purposefully kicked the next door open and found--nothing! The cries were as loud as ever. "Help me, Johnny! Get me out!"

Still Johnny saw nobody. But, he did see a tape player. Anger seized him and blocked out any reasonable thought. He grabbed the recorder and furiously hurled it against the wall.

Help me, Johnny! Don't let me fall, please! Billy Reynolds! Alarm bells went off in his head. Johnny reacted without thinking. Roy never knew what hit him when Johnny tackled him from behind and pushed him out of the room with as much strength and power as he could muster.

Behind him Johnny felt a wave of heat as a forceful shockwave lifted him off his feet and slammed him against the wall. As he crumpled to the ground he felt the building rock beneath him. Something unbearably heavy crashed down on him and excruciating pain shot through his left arm and side. The oxygen mask was knocked off his face, along with his helmet.

Johnny' s senses faded as the pain in his head and side grew beyond tolerable limits.

*****

A giant hand seemed to grab Roy from behind and for a few scary seconds he was airborne. Then, he hit the ground with stunning force as his little flying lesson came to an abrupt end. He heard a low rumble and instinctively covered his head, curled up into a ball. Small pieces of debris rained down on him and for some moments dust covered his vision completely.

Roy DeSoto didn't move until the vibrations stopped. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked around. The door to the room he and Johnny had checked was no longer existent.

Johnny.

Oh, my God!

"Johnny!" he hollered. No answer. "Johnny, where are you?" Still he heard nothing. He reached for the handie-talkie at his belt. It was gone. Hell and damnation!

Frantically, he began searching for it, groping around in the dark. Thankfully, his flashlight still worked, although its beam was swallowed in the thick smoke. There! A couple of feet away. Dear God, let it work! Let it be okay!

"HT 51 to Engine 51!"

After a few endless seconds of static, Hank's frantic voice drifted out of the handie-talkie. "HT 51, are you all right?"

"Cap, we're in the west wing of the house, first floor. There was an explosion in the third room. Johnny is still in there." A thought stuck him. "There was absolutely no warning--no fire, no particular heat, no gas. The cries we heard came from a recorder. Cap, this was a trap; have Steve pay attention to any person who doesn't belong here. And send somebody up to help me. The ceiling collapsed."

"Are you all right, Roy?"

"I'm fine. But I don't know about Johnny. HT 51 out."

"10-4." Captain Stanley summoned Chet and Marco. "Kelly, Lopez, get over to the west wing, first floor. A minor explosion. Gage seems to be down. Roy needs your help!"

"Right away!"

"Cap, maybe I'd better go over to the west end of the house, too. I got a feeling that Reynolds guy may still be around to admire the fireworks he started."

"Okay, Sloan, but be careful. The west wing's not really involved, but you never know. You got a handie-talkie?"

Steve nodded at his belt and said: "Wish me luck. For Gage's sake."

Stanley's eyes told Steve everything he needed to know. He jogged off to the western part of the house, doing his best to look and act like the firemen around him.

*****

Roy, meanwhile, climbed over some chunks of concrete into the room. Again he called out for his partner but again he didn't receive a response. As he tried to move a large piece of stone out of the way he thought he heard a low groan.

"Johnny?"

Another groan reached his ears. His heart jumped up in his chest. He's alive!

“Johnny, don't try to move, help's on the way!" After mounting some more large rocks he saw a pair of turn-out trousers. Thank God.

"Johnny, can you hear me? Open your eyes!"

John Gage made a valiant attempt to force his eyes open. He blinked to reunite Roy's two faces into one.

"R . . . Roy?"

"Yeah, it's me, Junior."

"T . . . told you not to call me that."

"Too late, Junior. You know us old guys: habits are hard to kick."

"You . . . You all right?"

"Thanks to you, yes."

Roy eyes assessed Johnny's condition more closely. His partner had a bleeding gash over his right eye and his helmet was no longer on his head. His left arm disappeared beneath a large slab of concrete.

"Johnny, where do you hurt?"

Another moan was Gage's only response.

"Johnny, stay with me! Where does it hurt?"

Slowly, John's eyes fluttered halfway open, again. "M' ribs . . . and m' arm . . . Everything hurts . . . "

Mentally, the paramedic in Roy evaluated his partner's possible injuries. Concussion most likely. He couldn't say anything about the arm before they had him out of here, but eyeing the large weight which trapped it Roy was not very optimistic. Carefully, he opened Johnny's turn-out coat to feel for broken ribs. The tape which Doctor Brackett had applied was still in place, so Roy couldn't check all the ribs. He figured that the already cracked ones had now been broken. He heard heavy footsteps behind him.

"Roy, Johnny, where are you?"

Chet and Marco. Finally. "Over here, Chet!"

After a few moments Kelly and Lopez rounded the corner and joined them.

Chet said, "The fire's under control, Roy. This part of the house is in no

further danger."

"Johnny, Dios mio, are you all right?" Marco exclaimed when he saw the downed paramedic.

"B-been better, Marco. Get me out of here, guys, w-will you? My arm is starting to hurt real bad."

Chet leaned over Gage. "Don't worry, Johnny, we'll have you out of here in a jiffy. After all, I wouldn't want to--"

"--break in a new pigeon, I know," Johnny whispered. The little strength he had was slowly fading.

"Okay, guys, we need to get this chunk off of him. If you take that side over there and I try to lift this end we should be able to free him. Johnny, think you can pull your arm out on your own?"

"I . . . I don't think so, but I can try."

"It's okay. Otherwise I'll help you. On three, guys. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay. One . . . two. . . three!"

With combined forces the firemen were able to lift the slab of concrete away.

"Augghhh!" Johnny yelled when the weight was suddenly gone. He tried to move his arm out of the way, but the agony was too much to bear. The darkness which had threatened to overcome him for the past few minutes intensified tenfold as he slid down the long chute to oblivion.

When he heard Johnny's scream and saw him lapse back into unconsciousness, Roy said through clenched teeth, "Can you hold on to this without me?"

"Sure, Roy, help Johnny."

Carefully Roy let go of the slab. He grabbed Johnny's turn-out jacket and pants and cautiously pulled him out of the way. Relieved, Kelly and Lopez set their burden down.

Roy meanwhile anxiously checked his partner's pulse, and let out a sigh of relief when he felt a slight and regular pressure against his fingers. He then gingerly moved his fingers down Johnny's injured arm. Through the thick material of the coat, he couldn't say if he felt any fractures. Turning to his colleagues he said, "Let's get him out of here. Chet, you take his feet and legs, Marco, you secure his middle, and be sure to keep his arm where it is." As Marco took his place, Roy moved up to Johnny's head. "I'll support his head and neck."

On three they gingerly lifted their friend and slowly carried him out into the night air. Once they had him safely on the smooth ground, Roy commanded, "I need the trauma and the drug box, the bio-phone and a backboard." As Chet and Marco hurried to get the items Roy had named, Johnny again showed signs of life. He blinked his eyes and slowly moved his head.

"Hey, there, welcome back. How're you doing?"

"Hurts."

"I know, Johnny. I'll get Rampart on the horn and see if we can do something about that."

"...'kay."

Captain Stanley joined them and squatted down next to his injured man. "Everything will be fine, Johnny. Don't worry, just lay back and let Roy do all the work."

"Heard that line before," John murmured and closed his eyes yet again.

*****

In the meantime, Steve kept looking for civilians who were standing by, who were thankfully not that many in this time of the night. He had carefully memorized the picture John had shown him. He only hoped that the man hadn't aged that much.

Just when he was about to give up his search he saw a person who fit the description. He stood in a small crowd of bystanders, probably people from the neighborhood who were too fascinated by the inferno to stay in their beds. Slowly, Steve approached the little group, trying not to look like a police lieutenant who had just uncovered the murder suspect.

With a start he realized that he had no weapon. Unaccustomed to calls in the middle of the night he had simply forgotten to take it with him. It couldn't be helped. It was now or never.

Suddenly, Reynolds locked eyes with him. With that sixth sense that criminals often possess, Dennis Reynolds sensed that no ordinary fire-fighter approached him, and turned his head and ran.

Damn! Steve Sloan took off after the villain, dodging firemen and jumping over hoses lying on the ground. Reynolds was a good twenty feet ahead of him, but Steve was younger and in better condition. The lead eventually melted away as Sloan caught up. When he was only a couple of meters away, Steve hit him around the legs with a low-flying tackle that threw both of them to the ground.

They rolled over several times, and Steve found out that although running was not the man's strong point, that didn't necessarily mean he was a slouch concerning street fighting. A fist crashed into his abdomen, and Steve folded in pain. Instinct made him throw his arms in front of his face. Just in time he was able to block off the second blow. And the third. A vicious kick at his knee made him cry out in pain, and for a moment he let his guard up. Reynolds didn't miss this and his elbow met Steve's jaw with unbelievable precision.

No wonder that wiry Gage had no chance against this guy, Steve thought as he fought to stay on his feet. And, he doesn't have the police training I have. Through the haze of pain in his head and knee, he decided it was time for a little payback.

A well-aimed blow hit Reynolds squarely in the nose, followed by a right into the man's solar-plexus. As the criminal doubled over Steve finished him off with a karate chop to the neck that left him lying motionless on the ground.

*****

"Johnny, open your eyes for me, stay with me!" Roy called. He took out several sterile gauze patches with which he covered the still bleeding laceration on his partner' s forehead.

"Cap, could you hold this for me please? When the bleeding stops tape it down."

He pulled out a penlight and examined his partner's pupils.

Roy grabbed for the bio-com and established a line to Rampart. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, come in please." Please let Brackett be on night duty.

A second time that night Roy's wish was granted, as Brackett's voice said, "This is Rampart Base. Go ahead, 51."

"Rampart, I have a male fire-fighter, 26 years of age, victim of an explosion. He is unconscious at the time and has a deep laceration on his forehead. He has possible broken ribs, and a possible broken left arm. Rampart, be advised that the victim is John Gage. Stand by for vitals."

"10-4, 51."

As Roy began to cut off the thick garment of the turn-out, Johnny came around again. "R-Roy, I don't feel so good." He began swallowing, hoping the nausea would subside but instead it became worse. "Roy, I think I . . . "

"Cap, turn him!"

They rolled Gage onto his right side, careful not to disturb the injured arm, as Johnny began retching. A few minutes later the vomiting subsided to dry heaves and soon stopped altogether. Exhausted, Johnny sank back. "S-sorry."

"It's okay. Don't worry about that," Roy said, wiping his partner's face with a cool cloth. He laid a hand on his partner's abdomen to count his respirations. After a few minutes he grabbed the receiver of the bio-phone, again. "Rampart, vital signs are as follows: BP 90/60, pulse 138, respirations are 20. Pupils are equal and reactive, but a little sluggish. The bleeding on his forehead has stopped. Patient has vomited and is slightly diaphoretic."

"10-4, 51. What about the arm?"

"Stand by, Rampart."

Roy tried to keep his touch gentle as he carefully palpated the arm. He heard a low grating sound as he reached Johnny's forearm. Definitely broken, he figured.

"Rampart, victim most probably sustained a broken left radius and ulna."

"51, administer IV, Lactated Ringers."

"10-4, Rampart. IV, Lactated Ringers," Roy repeated.

As he readied the IV Johnny whispered, "Hurts...real bad, Roy. Can hardly breathe. C-Can't you do something about that?"

"I'll ask Brackett, just a minute. Let's get this IV started, all right?"

When the IV was properly inserted, Roy said, "Rampart, patient is in severe pain, ask permission to administer MS. Patient also complains about having trouble breathing, probably due to broken ribs."

"10-4, 51. Get him started on O2. Negative on the MS. We don't know the extent of the head injury, yet. 51, do you have an ambulance on the scene?"

"That’s affirmative, Rampart."

"Okay, transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart."

A few minutes later, they had Johnny packaged and ready for transport. The ride to the hospital was uneventful, and a quarter of an hour later the ambulance pulled up in Rampart General's emergency bay. They were met by Dixie, Brackett and a handful of orderlies and nurses who, with hustling efficiency, rushed the gurney into treatment room one.

Brackett immediately barked a number of tests he wanted performed: "I want a CBC, CHEM 12, get x-ray down here, tell them I want a full skull series, chest P&A, left arm, radius and ulna, complete set."

He leaned over Johnny, and said loudly, "Johnny, can you hear me?"

*****

Blackness. Blackness filled with noises and voices. Can't they cut it out for a minute? How am I supposed to sleep with all this racket around me? Wait, am I

supposed to sleep? I don't remember. Better wake up before I'm late again. . . .

*****

"He's coming round, Doc. Johnny, I know you're awake, open your eyes for us, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, John Gage's eyes opened.

"Welcome back, Johnny. Do you know where you are?"

"Ram . . . Rampart?"

"Good guess. What do like about our treatment rooms that makes you keep coming back?"

"Don't know. Must be the nurses."

"That's old Johnny Gage like we know and love him," Dixie said with a smile.

"All right, let's get down to business. Let me take a look at your ribs. Oh, how convenient, they're already taped. Dix, cut that tape off. How do you feel, Johnny?"

"Miserable. I could do with a little bit of MS if you got any."

"We do have any, but let's get x-ray in here first, okay? Make sure you don't have any more broken bones than your ribs....Johnny?"

Johnny had already gone back to sleep.

"The wisest thing to do at 4:30 in the morning," Brackett said dryly.

"Will he be all right, Doc?"

"Well, he probably has a concussion. The taped ribs seem to be broken, and the cut above his eye will need a few stitches. I don't like the looks of his arm, either. It seems like a comminuted fracture to me. From what you've told me about the nature of his entrapment this would hardly be a surprise. Why don't you go to the Doctor's Lounge, Roy. I'll be there as soon as x-ray's done and we know more. You look like you could use a little shut-eye, too."

Roy didn't really want to leave his friend's side, but reluctantly stepped into the hall. When he trudged over to the Doctor's Lounge he bumped into Chet and Steve Sloan.

"How's Johnny?" Chet asked solicitously. "Is he going to be all right?"

" Well, he' s still waiting for x-rays to come back. Steve, what happened to you?" Roy asked as he took in Sloan's bruised face and the slight limp.

"We got the guy. He's on his way to the jail. Stood among the bystanders enjoying the scenario."

"Whew, that's good news. Johnny will be glad to hear that this nightmare is finally over. But is doesn't answer my question. What happened?"

"Well, let's say he didn't come with me voluntarily."

"Let's get you into treatment two, I'll see if I can get Doctor Early or Morton."

"I'm fine, Roy, really, nothing serious."

"Let a doctor be the judge of that."

*****

Another thirty minutes later Roy, Chet and Steve sat waiting in the Doctor's Lounge, the latter now sporting a bandage on his knee and holding an ice pack to his chin. His ribs thankfully had only been badly bruised. Silence hung in the room like a heavy blanket. Roy DeSoto was used to such waiting sessions, yet the feeling of dread and desperation was always the same.

The sound of the door being pushed open pulled each of them out of the privacy of their own thoughts. Brackett entered, and the three men automatically jumped to their feet, like convicts about to be sentenced.

Kel Brackett's mouth curled up into a reassuring smile, as he answered their unspoken question. "He's going to be fine, guys. I was right about the comminuted fracture, though. Both radius and ulna were broken several times--we'll have to operate on that. He'll be wheeled up to surgery in a little while. And, his ribs are now really broken. But, that's Johnny Gage, isn't it? If you want to see him you'd better do it now. He’s a little groggy, but he' ll know you' re there."

Roy nodded. "Thanks, Doc, for everything."

"Don't mention it." While Roy followed Brackett out of the room, Chet let out a huge sigh of relief and slumped back into his seat.

"You were really worried about him, weren't you?" Steve said quietly.

Kelly thought for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I really was." After a second he realized what he had said and quickly added, "But, don't you ever tell him, you hear me?"

*****

The next evening John Gage felt a whole lot better. His newly-repaired left arm had been wrapped and splinted and now hung slightly above him. Mostly, he felt like he always did when he ended up in the hospital: terribly bored. He decided to take a nap, and closed his eyes. A knock on the door made his eyes snap wide open again.

The door opened a crack and Roy DeSoto popped his head in. "Hi, want some company?"

Johnny's face broke into a weary smile when he saw his partner. "Roy! Am I glad to see you! Come on in."

Roy approached his friend's bed and set down the duffel bag he was carrying.

"I've been at your apartment. Thought I'd bring you some clothes and stuff."

"Thanks, Roy."

"So, how're you doing? Brackett said you got through surgery with flying colors. How do you feel?"

Johnny's face sobered. "Like someone just tried to kill me." He looked away, staring at nothing in particular. "Damn! He nearly got me! Those cries for help! How can I ever go searching for missing people who cry for help if I constantly have to fear that it's a trap?"

"Johnny I . . . ."

"No, Roy, let me finish this. It doesn't only affect me anymore. It could just as well have been you who got seriously injured. Or worse. What if . . ." His voice rose an octave as the panic still inside him threatened to take the upper hand. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, quickening his heartbeat. He began gasping for air as his injured ribs protested such exertion.

Roy was on his feet in a second, pushing the call button as he tried to calm his partner. "Johnny, listen to me. It's over! Steve got the guy, nothing more will happen to you or anyone else. It's over. Everything will be okay. Calm down. You're hyperventilating. Slow your breathing."

Slowly, the words began to seep through to Johnny's consciousness. He relaxed beneath Roy's reassuring hands on his shoulders.

The door burst open and Doctor Brackett rushed in, followed by a nurse.

"What's wrong, Johnny? Roy, what happened?" the physician asked as he reached his patient and automatically checked his pulse.

"He started thinking about what happened and panicked. I told him that the police caught the guy," Roy said, his eyes only briefly leaving his partner as he looked at Brackett.

"Do you feel better now, Johnny?" Kel asked, noticing that Gage's breathing had slowed down to an acceptable level. Johnny just nodded, still not entirely able to believe that the terror had finally found an end.

"Well, since I'm already here I might just as well take a look at the postoperative wound."

While the nurse carefully unwrapped the bandages Brackett flipped through Johnny's chart, then gently lifted the gauze covering the wound. "Looks good, Johnny. The incision should heal fine, and the bones should mend nicely." He replaced the gauze patches and set about splinting it again.

While the doctor was busy, Johnny closed his eyes and whispered, "Man, I can't believe it's over. Steve really got the guy?"

"Yeah, he did. The guy made a full confession."

Johnny's mood lifted visibly. "Doc, can I get out of here?"

"You're joking. In your condition I wouldn't make plans for the next wee. When I said your arm should mend nicely I didn't mean that it's well enough for you to go out there and get into the next difficulty around the corner."

"Ah, come on, Doc, I'm not that bad."

"You are." Both Roy and Brackett spoke in unison.

"Apart from that,: Brackett went on, " you've got a major concussion and enough broken ribs to keep you in bed for a day or two. If everything works out we'll start early mobilization the day after tomorrow. Under the condition, of course, that you know the meaning of the word 'bedrest'."

Johnny opened his mouth, but when he saw the look in Brackett's eyes he decided to keep quiet for once. He knew him well enough to recognize when the doctor went no-nonsense.

“I'll look in again later tonight, and you'd better be in bed then where you belong," Brackett said sternly. He, also, knew Johnny only too well. Gage was quite notorious for the subtleties of his own very special interpretation of doctor's orders.

He nodded at Roy and was almost out of the room when he turned back. "Oh, and Roy, don't forget he needs plenty of rest. Even if he would never admit it."

"I won't, Doc, thanks."

When the door had closed behind the doctor, a familiar sparkle lit Johnny's eyes. "Roy, now that the whole Reynolds-affair is over, I think I need your help . . ."

*****

After their shift ended two days later, the guys from 51s, together with Lieutenant Sloan, trooped over to Rampart General to visit Johnny. As they entered room they found that he appeared to be sleeping. Carefully, they came closer to the bed.

Cap spoke up. "John?"

Johnny' s eyes opened easily. "Hey, Cap, thanks for coming over." He took a look around. "Oh, you're all here! How are you guys?"

"That's what we wanted to know from you," Mike said. "How do you feel?"

"A little better, I think."

"You certainly \i look \i0 better than the last time I saw you," Chet declared.

"Gee, Chet, is that a compliment?"

"Not at all Gage, just an observation."

For the first time Johnny noticed that Steve was there, too. "Hey, Steve. Thanks for being here."

"No problem, John. I wanted to see if it was true what they say about you."

John cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"That you've got nine lives."

Johnny grimaced. "Yeah, I got that impression, too, over the years. Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to thank you for nailing that Reynolds guy. He really scared me for a while. I can't tell you how relieved I am that he can't harm me anymore. At first I couldn't quite believe it. Thank you."

"You're welcome, John. I'm just glad everything worked out the way it did. I'm sorry about your being here, though. I wish we could've caught him before he hurt you."

"It's okay, Steve. No permanent harm done." At least I hope so.

The conversation seemed to sap Johnny's strength, and he leaned back exhaustedly.

"Chet, could you get me a little water? It's in the cabinet over there."

"Sure, Johnny." Kelly said, and approached the cupboard.

When he opened the door, a large and white and soft something hurtled towards him, and before he could react it hit him squarely in the face and he saw nothing. His hearing was still very much intact. Laughter filled the room.

"Gotcha, Kelly! The Phantom's fallen for his own practical joke!" Somehow Johnny sounded much fitter than just a moment before.

Slowly, Chet turned around. "Just wait, Gage. We'll see who gets the last laugh. The Phantom will grant you some time to recover, but then there'll be no mercy, Gage."

"Whew, I'm frightened, Chet. Help me guys, there's a Phantom with shaving cream all over his head behind me!" Johnny could barely restrain himself from laughing, although his aching ribs did not exactly welcome such movements. His laughter all too soon turned into painful groans.

While Chet went to wash his face and get the shaving cream off his hair and shirt, Johnny high-fived Roy with his good hand.

"Good work, partner."

"Everything back to normal, Junior?"

"You bet, Pally."