THE FIRST STEP

By Robin Weinrich and Caelie Ryan

The call came in the middle of the night. The blaring klaxons tore Roy DeSoto from a sound sleep, and he stumbled into his turnout pants with his eyes half-closed, trying to still the hammering of his heart. Dimly, he heard the dispassionate voice of the dispatcher sending them to a warehouse fire. Tripping into the apparatus bay with the other members of his shift, he slid behind the wheel of the squad and started the engine, handing Johnny the call slip Hank Stanley stuffed into his hand as Hank swung around the front of the squad on his way to the engine.

The winds were blowing strong, hampering the best efforts of the LA County Fire Department. The battalion chief made assignments on his handy talkie with crisp tones. Station 51 was assigned the south end, drawing closer to the heart of the Beast raging in the large building. Metal groaned, sparks flew, water danced, and as he surveyed the building, Hank knew this performance would demand all the skills and talents of the men around him. He remained stoic as he watched his crew make their way into the inferno. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

“Marco, you and John take that side of the room,” Stanley shouted to his men. “Roy, Chet -- you guys come over here,” he directed.

Their hoses were alive with water as they cautiously maneuvered closer to the blaze. The heat gripped their bodies as they turned, their SCBA gear providing life-giving air amidst the vacuum of this war-zone.

Suddenly, Hank heard the explosions roar above the flames and knew the building was in its last death throes. They could do no more from here. “Let’s pull out -- NOW!” he yelled, motioning for Johnny and Marco while pushing Roy and Chet toward the door. But they weren’t fast enough. The blast sent the crew to the floor -- hard. Each of them struggled to move as the flames lunged out and hungrily sought more to burn. The men -- dazed yet professional -- grabbed their hoses and turned them on the flames as they backed out of the building.

“Man, I’m glad we got out of that one. Good call, Cap!” Johnny gasped as they stumbled outside. He glanced over at Roy, who was shaking his head. “A little too close for you, pal?” Johnny asked him. Roy nodded somberly.

Safely outside, the men pulled off their helmets, wiped the soot and sweat from their brows, and watched grimly as the warehouse shuddered and folded into itself. “This is going to be a bitch to clean up,” Chet muttered.

Chet was right, the clean-up took hours. Each man remained silent as he methodically went about his task. No one noticed as Roy swayed for a moment and leaned against the wall to steady himself. Must be the heat, he thought. The pounding in his head grew louder and his ears were ringing. He concentrated on regulating his breathing and focusing on the clean-up tasks.

Finally, the last length of hose was tucked away on the bed of the engine, and the crew headed back. Roy’s moment of dizziness had passed as quickly as it came, and he thought nothing more of it that night.

*******

Two days later, A-shift found themselves back at the station. The air was cool, the sun was bright, and the spirits of the men were light. Roy smiled easily as he walked into the kitchen. He could tell it was going to be a good day as he grabbed the paper and settled in with his cup of coffee.

“Now, Chet, you know it’s a good idea!” Johnny was raising his voice, not unusual when dealing with yet another one of his ‘issues’ of the day.

“Sorry, Gage. Garbage is garbage. You put it in one can. The garbage man picks it up and POOF, it’s gone!” stated Chet.

“Man, you are so…so…” Johnny stuttered, trying to find the right word, “…unwilling to try anything new. All you have to do is put the stuff that can be recycled into a separate container. It’s not brain science!”

“They can go dig another big hole out there somewhere and save our tax dollars for really important stuff, like a pay raise!” argued Chet.

“Well, I’m going to try it. How hard can it be? Oh, I forgot, part of your brain is always on hold when it comes to new ideas!” Johnny teased.

Roy shook his head. Hank flipped the paper over and sighed. The banter between Chet and Johnny always amazed the older men.

“You can call it what you want, Gage,” countered Chet, “ but new ideas are for . . .”

The klaxon interrupted his jibe.

“Station 51, respond to a motor vehicle accident, car over an embankment, High Mountain Road off Pebblestone Canyon Drive. Car over an embankment, High Mountain Road off Pebblestone Canyon Drive. Time out 9:15,” Dispatch blared over the speaker.

“Station 51, KMG-365,” replied Hank.

*******

Hank looked down the embankment, trying to find the car. It was almost hidden by brush and shrubbery, but Hank spotted two wheels spinning from the top of the overturned vehicle. “There it is, Stoker,” he told Mike.

Smoke was starting to billow from the bottom of the car. As the engine pulled to a stop on the road above, the wind picked up, sending the smoke up the embankment.

“John, Roy, let’s tie off from the rig and see what we’ve got,” Hank called out the window to them. “Kelly, get some water on that car.”

Chet pulled the reel line off the engine as Mike readied the pumps. Marco and Hank rigged the lines as Johnny and Roy secured theirs. After an extra tug on the rope, Roy began his descent and immediately felt flushed. He faltered for a moment as Johnny came down alongside him.

“Hey, you okay?” questioned Johnny, concern in his eyes.

Roy blinked his eyes a couple of times and nodded. “Yeah, Yeah… let’s get moving.”

The two reached the destroyed car. Roy thought he saw some movement and looked in the window. He saw two women inside, one sitting dazed on the upside-down front seat holding her arm, and one hanging from a seat belt in the back.

Roy reached in to check the young woman in the front seat as Chet stumbled down the hill behind them with a reel line to douse the smoke. Johnny pulled on the door on his side of the car. After a few good tugs, it came open. “Roy, can you get the door open on your side, too?” he asked as he climbed into the car. Roy pulled on the door, stumbling backwards as a wave of dizziness hit.

“Roy, you okay?” Chet questioned worriedly.

“Yeah, I just pulled too hard,” Roy insisted. “Can you help me get this door?”

Chet put a final shot of water on the car, then laid down the hose and helped Roy pull open the front door of the car.

Meanwhile, Johnny was shimmying into the back seat.

“Hi, there, I’m Johnny,” he said, giving the woman there a reassuring smile. “We’re here to get you out of here.”

“There’s a fire…”

“We’ve already taken care of it, you don’t have to worry,” Johnny assured her. “Now we’re going to take care of you.”

“Can you check my daughter first?” the woman asked. “She hurt her shoulder, that’s why she couldn’t help me get down from here.”

“My partner’s taking good care of her,” Johnny reassured the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Helen.”

“What happened here, Helen?” Johnny asked as he expertly ran his hands up and down her arms and legs checking for injuries. Helen watched him closely.

“Some kids were racing and they ran us off the road,” Helen explained. “Could you stop feeling me up and get me down from here?”

Johnny pulled his hands away abruptly. “I wasn’t…”

Helen started to laugh. “It’s okay, Johnny, I’m kidding,” she assured him.

“I want to check you over before we move you any, so we don’t aggravate any injuries you might have,” Johnny informed her. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Not that I can feel.”

“Good. Then we’ll put you on a board and get you out of here,” Johnny said with a reassuring smile. “Marco, can you push that in here?”

Marco nodded and slid the board onto the seat of the car, holding the other end.

“You don’t need the board,” Helen insisted.

“It’s only a precaution, in case you injured your back or your neck when the car turned over,” Johnny explained.

“You don’t have to worry about paralyzing me, a drunk did that 20 years ago,” Helen said matter-of-factly.

“You’re paralyzed?”

“From the chest down. Is that going to make it harder for you boys to get me out of here?” she asked anxiously.

“No, no, don’t you worry,” Johnny said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but then pulling it away awkwardly.

“I can feel it when you touch there,” Helen informed him.

Johnny put his hand back on her shoulder with a smile. “Good. Then you’ll know I’m hanging on to you tight when I cut this seat belt.”

He put an arm around Helen’s shoulders, then cut the seat belt, easily catching the rest of her body as it fell. “I’m going to lay you on the backboard, just to be safe,” Johnny informed her as he carefully lay her down. He secured her to the board, then helped Marco lift it out of the car. “Set her down here, Marco.”

Marco set the backboard down. “Do you need me for anything else?”

“No, we’re good here,” Johnny told him. “How’s Roy doing?”

“Did they get my daughter out?” Helen questioned anxiously.

“Yes, ma’am. She’s on the other side of the car,” Marco told her. “She hurt her shoulder, but otherwise she seems okay.”

“Thank God,” Helen declared with a sigh of relief. “Could one of you check on my wheelchair, see if it’s salvageable? It’s in the trunk of the car.”

“I’ll look,” Marco offered, trotting over to the side of the car.

Johnny looked in Roy’s direction. “Roy!”

Roy shook his head, trying to get rid of the buzzing sound blasting through it. He thought he heard Johnny calling him, but he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination. “Roy, you okay?” Chet asked, noticing his distraction. Roy waved him off.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Are we ready to go?”

“I think Johnny wants you,” Chet told him. “He’s been calling over here.”

So I wasn’t imagining that. “Yeah, Johnny?” he called loudly, not realizing Johnny was now at his side.

“Did you bring down the biophone?” Johnny asked as he rummaged through the Trauma box.

“I thought you had it,” Roy told him.

“No, I had the Trauma box.” He looked up the hill. “It’s not worth the trouble to have Cap send it down. Let me get some vitals on my patient, and then we’ll get them topside and call Rampart from there. I think they’re stable enough. Are you done with these?” He held up the BP cuff and stethoscope. Roy nodded.

Hank’s voice crackled over the H.T. “Squad 51, do you need the Stokes down there?”

“I think we can carry them up,” Johnny told Marco, Chet and Roy. “What do you guys think?”

I don’t even know how I’m going to make it up that hill, let alone carry someone. Roy kept that thought to himself, instead nodding at his partner’s suggestion. Chet and Marco did the same.

The four men started up the hill. Even with the extra burden of the Trauma box in his hand, Johnny loped ahead easily, Marco struggling to keep up with him. Roy paced himself and Chet much more slowly, too slowly for Chet’s liking. “Want me to take the front?” Chet asked about half way up.

“I’m not going to run up this hill and risk hurting my patient,” Roy shot back defensively.

“Okay, but let’s get there sometime today,” Chet muttered softly.

“What?” an annoyed Roy asked.

“Nothing,” Chet said glumly, silently following Roy the rest of the way up the hill.

As Johnny ran back down the hill for Helen’s wheelchair, Roy pulled out the biophone. “Rampart, this is County 51. How do you read?”

“Go ahead, County 51,” Brackett answered.

“Rampart, we have two female patients involved in a rollover automobile accident. Please stand by for vitals.”

Roy fumbled in his shirt pocket for the paper on which he’d written vitals. “Victim one is a 23-year old female, the restrained driver of the vehicle,” he reported, squinting as the words on the paper in front of him began to swim. “Vitals are…” He brought the paper closer. “…BP is 10…sorry, 110 over 64. Pulse is 102. Respirations are 22 (I’m making these a little higher, since she’s still in pain). There is a noticeable deformity in the shoulder…” -- he glanced down at his patient -- “…in the left shoulder, with severe pain. We have the shoulder immobilized. Patient is complaining of no other pain, and there are no other signs of injury except for minor cuts and abrasions.” Roy rubbed his eyes.

“No sign of head injury, 51?” Brackett double-checked.

“Negative, Rampart,” Roy told him. “Request permission for MS.”

“10-4, 51, go ahead with the MS,” Brackett ordered. “Start an IV, Lactated Ringers, and give 4 milligrams MS, IV push.”

Roy tried to write down the instructions, but the pen was shaking too badly in his hand. He tried to steady it with his other hand.

“51, did you get that last transmission?” Brackett asked after failing to get an answer from Roy.

“Negative, Rampart,” Roy lied. “Please repeat.”

Chet shot a curious glance at Johnny, who had returned just as Brackett was giving the instructions. Johnny shrugged as he worriedly watched his partner.

“51, start an IV, Lactated Ringers,” Brackett ordered again. “Then give 4 milligrams MS, IV push.”

“10-4, Rampart, IV Ringers and 4 milligrams MS IV,” Roy repeated back correctly. “Stand by for vitals on Patient two.”

He handed the biophone to Johnny, who gave him a worried look. “You okay?”

Johnny asked. Roy didn’t answer, turning away to grab the IV set-up.

*******

“I’ll go in with them,” Johnny offered as the ambulance pulled up.

“Shouldn’t we both go?” Roy questioned grumpily.

“I can handle it,” Johnny assured him. “Your patient is stable, right?” Roy was distracted by the ache in his temple and didn’t answer. “Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Your patient is stable, right?” Johnny asked again. Roy nodded. “Then I think I can handle both of them. Are you okay to drive the squad?” he questioned Roy worriedly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Roy snapped.

“I don’t know, you seem distracted, that’s all,” Johnny said defensively.

“I’m fine,” Roy hissed. “Let’s get going.”

Roy said nothing else as they loaded the women into the ambulance. “See you at Rampart,” Johnny called as Roy handed in the equipment. Roy answered him with a stony glare as he slammed the doors shut.

“So, ladies, how are we feeling?” Johnny asked with a warm smile as he checked to make sure Helen’s backboard was securely attached to the bench.

“Woozy,” Paula murmured.

“That’s the morphine kicking in,” Johnny explained as he checked her pulse and respirations again. “Is your shoulder feeling better?”

“Much. They’ll be able to fix it, right?” she asked anxiously.

“Yep, they’ll just pop it back into place.” Paula winced. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Johnny assured her. “I’ve had it done twice before.”

“Good,” Paula mumbled as she closed her eyes.

“A little accident-prone, Johnny?” Helen teased.

“No, things just happen to me, that’s all,” he told her with a shrug. “How about you? How are you feeling?”

“I can’t feel my arms and legs,” she joked.

Johnny tried to force a smile, but couldn’t manage it. How can she joke about something like that?

“I either have to laugh about it or cry about it,” Helen told him, reading his thoughts. “I’d much rather go through life laughing.”

“How did it happen?” Johnny blurted out, then thought twice about his question. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t mind,” Helen assured him. “It was a car accident. My husband was driving drunk, he ran a red light, and we were hit by a pick-up. I was lucky, though.”

“Lucky?” Johnny asked incredulously.

“You might not think I have much of a life, living like this,” Helen said knowingly. “But as least I’m still alive. My husband wasn’t that fortunate. He never got to see his daughter grow into that beautiful woman you see over there.” She nodded her head in Paula’s direction. “He’s never going to know his grandchildren, or see another sunset, or go to another Dodgers game the way he loved to. I can do all that.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Johnny admitted.

“You’ve never had to,” Helen stated matter-of-factly.

“What you said before, about me thinking you don’t have a life, that’s not true,” Johnny insisted.

“Yes it is, Johnny,” Helen said gently. “You wouldn’t ever want to be like this, would you?” Johnny didn't answer. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” Johnny admitted softly. “I could never handle it the way you have.”

“I’ve had 20 years to learn to live with this,” Helen reminded him. “In the beginning, I wanted to die every day. But you find things to live for. Thank God I had Paula. Do you have any children?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Not yet. I’d like to, though, if I can find the right person to have them with.”

“How old are you?” Helen asked with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“27. Why?” Johnny asked warily.

“My Paula is 23.”

“Mom, don’t start,” Paula murmured.

“You two would make beautiful grandbabies for me,” Helen teased.

“Mom!” Paula gasped.

Helen ignored her embarrassment. “What do you say, Johnny?”

“Uh…I…I…there are rules about that kind of thing,” Johnny stammered. “Sorry.”

“If we run into you later, when we’re not patients anymore, they don’t have rules against that, do they?” Helen questioned.

“If they did, I bet you’d break them,” Johnny told her with a smile.

“You’re right,” Helen said with a laugh. “This won’t be the last you see of me.”

*******

“So, Roy, how ya doing?” Johnny asked cheerfully, climbing back into the squad after their follow-up at Rampart.

Roy frowned. Why does he keep asking me that? “I’m fine, and you?” he said with caution.

“Great! Haven’t had much time this morning to ask how your days off went. Just curious.”

“Yeah, curious,” muttered Roy, his easy smile from this morning fading fast. He could feel the throbbing in his head starting up again and sighed as he started up the squad.

“You seemed a little distracted with that last rescue. You okay?” asked Johnny again.

“I told you, I’m fine. I did the usual stuff around the house, played with the kids, you know, nothing special,” Roy said in a clipped tone.

Okay. Sorry I asked. “Hey, you should have talked to that woman we just rescued. She was amazing,” Johnny raved. “She’s paralyzed, but she hasn’t let it ruin her life. I don’t know how she does it. She told me it’s because she looks at all she has instead of all she’s lost.”

“That’s unusual,” Roy commented distractedly..

“She was an unusual person,” Johnny commented. “But in a good way.”

Roy nodded, although he wasn’t listening to his partner. I wished I had asked Dix for some aspirin. I sure hope I have some in my locker.

“She wanted to set me up with her daughter,” Johnny was going on. “The girl was pretty cute. What do you think?”

Roy didn't answer. “Roy?”

“What?”

“The daughter. What did you think of her?” Johnny asked.

“I didn’t notice,” Roy admitted. “Why? Are you going to ask her out?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Johnny whined. “The mother wants me to go out with her. Should I do it?”

“I don’t know, Johnny,” Roy sighed. “That’s up to you.”

“What’s wrong with your head?” Johnny asked as Roy rubbed his temple.

“Nothing.”

“You look like you have a pretty bad headache,” Johnny noticed with concern.

“Nothing a few aspirin and some peace and quiet won’t fix,” Roy grumbled.

Johnny took this as his cue to be quiet and sat back in his seat silently for a few minutes. He couldn’t stand the quiet, though. “So, are you and Joanne going to do the recycling thing?” Johnny questioned, hopping back over to this issue of the day.

Roy winced as the dull throb in his head turned into a stabbing pain. Ignoring Johnny’s question, he pulled into the station’s bay and shut off the squad. He rubbed his right temple and noticed it seemed tender. Must have been too rough with Chris last night while we were wrestling.

Johnny was still talking, not noticing he didn’t have an audience. “So, you see, they can make other things out of the glass, and on the news they were showing how you can even turn plastic trash into reusable stuff. Isn’t that amazing?”

Johnny’s enthusiasm was too much for Roy right now. “Yeah, Junior, amazing,” he responded as he quickly headed for the dorm for his aspirin. Johnny followed him into the locker room. Roy poked through the gear in his locker while Johnny continued talking.

“I mean, this could really revolutionize the way we think about our trash! What do…”

“Look, Johnny,” groused Roy. “I really need to get rid of this headache. Can this wait?”

Johnny looked down at his feet as he stepped back. “Okay, man, okay. Sorry. I’ll just go find my book. You need anything?”

“No, thanks.” Roy watched as Johnny left. He would apologize later, but right now, all he could do was to focus on his aspirin to keep from groaning. Once he’d gulped down the pills, he went into the dorm room and stretched out on his bunk, closing his eyes.

The crew settled into some quiet activities while Roy rested. As he got to his feet an hour later, Roy was relieved to discover his headache was beginning to fade. When he moved his head to his right arm, though, he winced as he felt the tender spot again.

Before he could worry about it, the klaxon sounded. “Squad 51, unknown injury, 111 Rose Street, Cross-street, Fifth Avenue, time out, 14:36.”

“Squad 51, KMG-365,” responded Stanley.

Minutes later the squad arrived at a crumbling apartment building that appeared abandoned. Roy sighed. “Are you sure this is the right address?” he questioned Johnny.

“111 Rose Street,” Johnny said as he double-checked the paper in his hand.

“You better call it in,” Roy advised.

Johnny nodded and picked up the radio. “LA, Squad 51. Could you confirm the location of our incident?” he requested. “111 Rose Street appears to be an abandoned building.”

“10-4, 51.”

Before Dispatch could confirm the address, gunshots were fired from a first floor window. Johnny and Roy nearly knocked heads as they ducked down on the seat. Glass rained down on them as a bullet crashed through the window. Johnny grabbed the radio. “LA, this is Squad 51. Gunshots have been fired at the scene of our incident. Request immediate police assistance!" he yelled.

“I'VE GOT MORE OF THAT!” yelled a man from inside the building. “GET IN HERE NOW! SHE'S DYING!"

The man in the window briefly turned to the woman on the floor. She lay motionless, blood seeping from the bullet wound in her head. He anxiously waved his gun again out of the broken window again. "THIS WOMAN IS GOING TO DIE IN HERE!” the man screeched as he fired another shot at the squad.

Johnny and Roy didn’t move from their seats. “I SWEAR, I’M GOING TO GET VERY UPSET IN A MINUTE!” the man bellowed, desperation beginning to filter into his voice.

"Ah, man, Roy, this isn't good," complained Johnny.

"I know, but I don't think this guy is going to give us a chance to go anywhere," Roy whispered as cautiously peeked out his broken window and saw the man waving his gun at them.

Suddenly, a hand crashed through what remained of the window and grabbed Roy by the neck. “Now, just keep it easy, boys. We’re going to go in there and see my friend.” The rough hand held Roy firmly as a large man with a sawed-off shotgun stepped into view.

The man nervously looked over at the building. “Okay, keep me covered, Jack! We’re coming in now.” He jerked open the door and yelled, “Get out now, let’s move it!”

Roy slid out slowly, Johnny following him. They kept their eyes on the man , trying to steady their shaky limbs. Roy winced as the bright sunlight sent a lighting bolt of pain through his head. He blinked furiously as his eyes started watering.

“Okay, Junior, calm and cool,” reminded Roy as they headed into the building. “Calm and cool, calm and cool,” he repeated to himself.

“Calm and cool? I’ll just close my eyes, and you wake me up when it’s all over, okay Pally?” Johnny was taking deep breaths as they stepped through the broken glass littering the sidewalk in front of the building.

“Shut up,” the large man said as he shoved them into the building.

Roy kept his hands up as he and Johnny entered the room with the other gunman. “Okay, now, we’re here to help. Let’s not do anything rash,” he stated calmly.

Johnny knelt beside the woman and felt for a pulse. Damn, nothing. This is not good. "Uh Roy, I'm not getting anything . . ."

"You’re damn right you’re not getting anything from her. She’s a cop; she’s done, man. But now you two will be our ticket out of here!” Jack poked his gun into Roy’s neck. The large man aimed his gun at Johnny.

“Jack, relax. We’re gonna get out of here, now,” the large man assured his partner. “We’ve got our insurance. Those boys in blue will do anything to get their own back.”

Roy looked at Johnny, but the pain in Roy’s head made it difficult to see his partner clearly. Roy stopped, trying to clear his head, but Jack shoved him forward to the door. The large man prompted Johnny forward too. As they reached the back door of the apartment building and Jack pushed it open, they heard the sirens.

“Shit! Get them in there now!” roared the large man. He dove for the driver’s side of the parked car as Jack shoved the paramedics into the back seat.

Roy let out a yelp of pain as the tender spot on his head hit the car window. Johnny helped his stunned partner sit up. “You okay?” he asked. Roy nodded.

“Shut up,” Jack barked, waving the gun at them.

Roy leaned his throbbing head against the window, and looked out the front windshield, noticing how narrow the alley was. We’re not going to make it out of here.

Gunshots rang through the alley as the car jerked forward. The large man grunted as he spotted police cars to his left. He yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, throwing everyone in the back seat off balance. As Jack tumbled, he lost control of his gun and it landed at Roy’s feet.

More shots rang out, and a louder grunt came from the front seat as the large man was shot through the windshield. The car kept moving forward into a stack of trash cans, pushing the dazed men in the back seat forward. Roy shook his head and grabbed the gun, not knowing where to point. He struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Thunder was now crashing through his head. He noticed Johnny to his left sliding out of the car, and Jack to his right looking at him. Jack swung his fist into Roy’s midsection, grabbing for the gun. As Roy let out a cry, Johnny turned and tried to reach for him.

Gunshots rang out amidst the commotion. Johnny felt a searing hot pain in his back and hit the pavement, writhing in pain. Jack turned for his escape, stopping only long enough to fire another shot at Johnny. He grinned as his latest victim moaned in agony. Roy’s hands grabbed again for the gunman, but he had to stop as his headache exploded into excruciating pain.

“Roy,” Johnny gasped.

Roy slammed a fist into his temple, trying to will away the pain. “I’m right here, Johnny,” he said tightly. “Just stay still a minute until the police get us out of here safely.

“Police! Drop your weapons, now!”

Pounding footsteps, the clattering of guns and muffled angry voices were the last things Roy heard as the darkness closed in.

*******

When Squad 16 arrived on the scene it was complete chaos. All they knew was that two of their own were down, but they didn’t know who or how bad it was. Brice winced as they turned the corner by the apartment building and saw a bullet-riddled Squad 51 sitting out front. Gage and DeSoto--oh no.

They hurried into the alley, where they saw the car surrounded by police and detectives. Vince Howard greeted them. “Over here. We’ve pulled Roy out the car and he’s out, but I can’t tell where he’s hurt. Gage is more serious. He took some bullets,” he informed them.

Bob headed over to Roy, while Brice kneeled down by Johnny. He noticed the large pool of blood under Johnny and began to assess his overall condition. Johnny was gasping for breath and was groggy.

“Roy…” he murmured. He tried to find his partner but could only see spots dance before his eyes and the ghostly outline of Brice’s face.

“Be still, Gage, you’ve been shot. I’ve got to get you stabilized,” Brice said calmly. He quickly cut off Johnny’s shirt. Assessing Johnny’s chest, he found two bullet holes, one by his left shoulder, the other in his neck. He carefully log rolled Johnny to check for an exit wound, finding only one for the shoulder wound.

Ignoring his shaking hands, Brice efficiently put occlusive dressings on both wounds, then took Johnny’s vitals.

“Bad?” Johnny asked.

“Just stay still and stay quiet, Gage,” Brice ordered, slipping an oxygen mask over Johnny’s face. Johnny closed his eyes as Brice grabbed the biophone.

“Rampart, this is Squad 16. We have a male, age 29, the victim of a shooting. There are two entrance wounds, one just inferior to the left clavicle, the other in the posterior of the neck. Only the bullet from the first wound exited. Skin is pale, cool and diaphoretic. Vitals are BP 84/50, pulse 140 and thready, respirations 28 shallow and labored…”

“Oh . . . man . . . hurts like hell . . . my chest is burning!” Johnny couldn’t stop the tears falling from his face.

“It’s okay, Gage, just hang in there,” Brice soothed.

“Rampart, patient is still conscious and complaining of severe pain,” Brice continued. “There are no other signs of injury besides the gunshot wounds, which we’ve covered with occlusive dressings. We’ve also put him on 10 liters O2 by mask.”

“16, start two IVs, Lactated Ringers, wide open,” Brackett ordered. “Give 2 milligrams MS, slow IV push, immobilize the patient and transport as soon as possible.”

“10-4, Rampart. Two IVs, Lactated Ringers wide open, and 2 milligrams MS, slow IV push,” Brice repeated back to him. “Stand by for information on our second victim.” He handed the biophone to Bob and pulled out the IV set-up.

*******

Roy opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. The room was too bright, and he still had that blasted headache. What’s going on? He moved his head to the right looking for clues as to where he was and felt the pounding worsen in his ears. Everything was hazy, and his eyes kept watering as he tried to focus on his surroundings. As he continued to stir, he noticed someone entering the room and tried to look that way.

“Wha…what, I…where am I?” He tried to get his voice louder as he struggled for the right words.

“Roy, this is Dr. Brackett. Do you know me?” Brackett asked, pulling out his penlight.

“Uh, yeah . . .” Roy jerked his head away as Brackett flashed the light in his eyes. He moaned at the pain the movement caused and closed his eyes. “Don’t…do…that.”

“Sorry, Roy, you know I have to check your pupils,” Brackett reminded him. “You got a pretty good knock on your head. Can you tell me your name?”

“Roy DeSoto,” Roy murmured.

“Good. What day is it?” Brackett asked.

Roy thought for a long moment, but his mind refused to give up the answer. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

Brackett’s mouth twitched, but he reassured Roy, “It’s okay, it will all come back to you. Do you know where you are?”

“Rampart.”

"That’s right, you’re at Rampart. Do you remember anything else?”

He searched his hazy mind, but only came up blank. “Uh, not really,” he stated. “Why am I here?”

“There was a shooting,” Brackett started to tell him. Roy shook his head slightly as he heard the gunshots. Then came loud voices as the wave of memory crashed over him. Johnny…Johnny was shot...No!... Roy looked down at his hands and saw himself holding a gun. He shuddered and closed his eyes, hoping to end this moment. Instead, the darkness only brought more gruesome images, as he saw Johnny lying in a pool of blood.

“Roy?” Dr. Brackett asked. “Are you still with me? Are you in pain?” Brackett’s words dragged Roy from his memories.

"What happened?” he questioned. Brackett, trying hard to focus on the doctor’s face. "Where’s Johnny?”

"Like I said before, you hit your head pretty good, I guess when the car crashed you sustained a concussion,” Brackett informed him.

I don’t care about that. “Where’s Johnny?” he asked again, louder this time.

“Well, from what we’ve been told by the police, you two got caught in some cross-fire at a holdup,” Brackett stated.

Roy stared blankly at Brackett, not believing what he was hearing. I can’t remember anything but holding that gun. And Johnny bleeding.

“Johnny was shot,” Brackett continued. The doctor’s words sliced through the hazy fog of Roy’s thoughts. Shot? But I had the gun. Did I…?

“Is he….Is he okay?” managed Roy. Images of Johnny bleeding, Roy holding the gun, and the furious shouting all around him continued to flash through Roy’s mind. He couldn’t shake the dread that now penetrated his very being. Did I . . .? He didn’t want to finish the awful thought, but his mind wouldn’t let it go. I must have shot Johnny while I was trying to get the gun. That’s why Brackett is acting so funny. He doesn’t want to tell me!

Brackett watched the array of emotions on Roy’s face as he struggled with remembering the incident. “Roy, he’s in stable condition,” Brackett reassured him. “I’m going to look in on him as soon as I’m done here. Why don’t you get some rest, and I’ll come back with an update as soon as I know more?”

“Johnny…” whispered Roy as his mind kept replaying the image of his partner falling to the ground in agony. “Johnny. Johnny,” he continued to mutter until he slipped into unconsciousness again.

*******

Johnny felt no pain, only a deep emptiness. He tried to move, but only his eyes responded to the effort. The vent alarm went off as sweat beaded down Johnny’s face. Oh, God, I’m so tired and I don’t even know why.

Johnny couldn’t stop the tears. The breathing tube prevented his attempts to groan or speak. What is going on? Why can’t I feel my arms or legs? He began to panic as he tried to move his head, and found it wouldn’t move where he wanted to look. The alarm continued to beep. Is anyone going to turn that thing off?

“Shh, Johnny, it’s okay,” soothed the voice of an angel as she lay a cool cloth on his head. “Let me reset this alarm and see about getting you more comfortable.” The alarm was silenced, and Johnny felt the pillows behind his head move as the nurse adjusted them. “I’m Julie and I’ll be here all night. Don’t be alarmed about not moving. We’ve given you something to keep you still.” She brushed a stray lock of hair off Johnny’s forehead. “I’m going to get Dr. Brackett, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Johnny watched her go, then explored the room with his eyes. He noticed the numerous tubes extending from his bed to various pieces of equipment beside the bed. He also noticed the dim lights and heard the distinct hums and beeps of that equipment around him. I must be at Rampart, in ICU. What happened, though? Brackett will let me know. He’s always straight with me. She did say she was going to get him, didn’t she?

He blinked back the sweat dripping into his eyes. Oh man, I’m hot. Someone better hurry up and tell me what’s going on. He tried to quell the continuing panic rising in him, but a tear escaped his tired eyes. I think I’m in trouble this time.

Julie appeared at his side again. “Dr. Brackett is on the way, Johnny,” she assured him. “I know you can’t talk, but let’s try this. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Okay, let’s see yes,” she encouraged him with a smile.

Okay, if I must. Maybe I’ll get some answers this way. He blinked once.

“Now, let’s see no.”

Blink, blink. Man, I’m so tired. Hurry up and tell me what’s wrong with me. And where’s Roy?

“Are you in any pain?” Blink, blink. “I think you’re very warm, though, right?” she asked as she read 101.2 on thermometer. Johnny blinked once.

Julie’s pleasant smile disappeared briefly, but she pasted it on again. Johnny stared hard at her, willing his eyes to stay open. He heard a door opening and the sound of Brackett’s heavy footsteps. “How’s it going, Julie?”

“His temp is up to 101.2,” she informed him. “He’s fairly alert, though, and is trying to communicate. He’s blinking twice for no and once for yes.”

“I’ll write orders to increase the dosage on the antibiotic,” Brackett ordered. “I want to be sure we keep away any complications.”

Okay Doc, give me some answers. What’s going on? Johnny tried to find Brackett’s eyes to let him know he was waiting for some details.

“Johnny, do you know where you are?” Blink.

“Do you know what happened?” Blink, blink.

Brackett sighed. “Johnny, you were shot, twice.” Johnny’s eyes stayed focused on Brackett as he tried to remember the details. “Apparently, there was some sort of cross-fire, and you took one bullet in the chest and another in your neck. We haven’t taken the bullet out of your neck yet, which is why you can’t feel anything.

Johnny tried to breathe, but all he could do was to let the machine do its mechanical bidding. He tried to move his head, but his damaged neck wouldn’t allow him to do anything other than look up at Brackett and stare. He tried to scream out for some sort of release, but no sound came from his attempts. Panic clung to his heart and mind, and he couldn’t control the many tears that now slipped away from his eyes. Betrayed by my own emotions, and I can’t do a damn thing about it!

Johnny couldn’t feel Julie pick up his hand and squeeze it, conveying her sympathy for his situation. He didn’t know that Brackett had had a vise grip on his arm while conveying the details of his injuries.

“We have you on the vent to give your lungs a chance to heal from the chest wound,” Brackett was explaining, although he could tell a distracted Johnny probably wasn’t hearing him. “I’ve got you in cervical traction to keep your back in alignment. We’ll keep monitoring your neck as the swelling goes down, and as soon as we can, we’ll operate to try to repair the damage. I suspect that this paralysis will be temporary.”

That word caught Johnny’s attention. Temporary? Thank God! I won’t be able to take more than a few days of living like this.

Then Brackett burst his bubble. “But we’ll have to wait and see.” He paused as he saw the despair in Johnny’s eyes. “I’m going to increase your sedative so you can get some more sleep. You need to give your body a chance to heal, Johnny. I have every hope that you will make a full recovery. You’ve got to believe that.”

Johnny closed his eyes. This has to be a nightmare. There was no shooting, I’m not really here. I’m going to wake up in a few hours and everything will be fine.

Johnny clung desperately to that thought as he allowed his tired mind to nod off again.

*******

“Roy, it appears that you’ve bruised the pre-frontal cortex of the brain,” Dr. Early was explaining to him. Roy nodded emotionlessly as Early continued, “You’ve got some swelling and tenderness, which I’m certain has been the cause of your recent headaches. I’m going to keep you another day for observation, but the medication we’ve had you on has greatly reduced the swelling, so you should be just fine,” Dr. Early assured him with a smile.

Roy looked confused. “So why am I having difficulty remembering the shooting?”

“The brain is a funny thing. Sometimes, it winks out, and other times you’ll be amazed at how much you will remember. Just give it time, Roy.” Dr. Early smiled. “Head injuries are strange.”

Joanne pushed open the door. “I’m sorry, should I come back?” she asked as she spotted the doctor.

“No, I’m done,” Dr. Early told her. “Roy, remember what I said. It’s nothing to worry about. Joanne, nice to see you.”

“You, too, Dr. Early.”

“I’ll check back in soon,” Early promised, giving Joanne a reassuring pat on the arm before he left.

Joanne moved to Roy’s side and kissed him.

“Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” she asked.

Roy sighed, not wanting to burden his wife with the truth. “I’m fine, Jo,” he assured her.

“So what did Dr. Early say? Can you go home today?”

“No, he wants me to wait until tomorrow. But only as a precaution,” Roy added quickly as he saw a worried shadow cross his wife’s face. “He says I’m going to be fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Please tell me what’s bothering you, honey,” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m not really sure, but…I think…” He hesitated, unsure of how his wife might take his confession. “Joanne, I was the one who hurt Johnny. I shot him.”

Joanne inhaled sharply. Roy couldn’t bear her stricken face and rolled over so he wouldn’t have to face her. Joanne pulled him back. “Honey, you can’t be right about this. You would never hurt Johnny.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Roy explained anxiously. “I saw the gun in front of me, so I grabbed it, and I guess it went off somehow.”

“You don’t remember actually shooting him?”

Roy shook his head miserably. “But I had to be the one who did it. I had the gun.”

“The police would have said something if you’d been the one who shot him,” Joanne told him. “And they found the gun on the guy who kidnapped you.

“He must have grabbed it back,” Roy guessed. “I had that gun in my hand, Joanne. And the next thing I know Johnny’s lying on the ground.”

Joanne took him by the hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Roy, you did not do this. You could never hurt someone like that, especially Johnny.”

“I don’t know, Jo,” he muttered with a shake of his head. He rubbed the tender spot on his temple as he looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “I just don’t know.”

******

“Good, you’re still here,” Brackett said as he entered Roy’s room and spotted Roy, Joanne and Hank. “I thought maybe you’d left already.”

“I wanted to wait until we heard something about Johnny,” Roy explained. “Is the surgery over?”

Brackett nodded.

“Doc, how did it come out?” Hank asked.

“Well, we were able to get the bullet out safely and repaired a great deal of the damage,” Brackett informed them, glancing away as Roy caught his eye. “However, his injuries were more extensive than we thought. Dr. Hayes was able to reconstruct the vertebrae, but there was nerve damage, too. We’re not sure yet how extensive that is. The good news is, he will be able to breathe on his own again. But we don’t know how much more function he’ll have. We have to wait until the swelling goes down some more before we can find that out."

“The paralysis…will he…?“ Roy faltered. His mind refused to believe his best friend would never walk again. “I mean, this is temporary, right?”

Brackett finally looked directly at Roy. “We don’t believe he’ll regain complete function,” he said heavily. Roy simply stared at him. Brackett continued. “The damage occurred about on the C4 vertebrae level. That’s why we can take him off the ventilator. He’ll be able to swallow. After the swelling goes down, we believe that he’ll be able to move his shoulders and some upper arm muscles. Maybe we’ll see a little hand movement.” Brackett placed his hand on Roy’s shoulder.

Roy heard the words, but he wasn’t sure he was listening. This can’t be happening. This nightmare is just getting worse!

Stanley cleared his throat. “Well, Doc, we know you’ve done everything you can. We’ll just have to wait and see how it all turns out.” He hefted Roy’s bag onto his shoulder as Joanne started to wheel Roy out of the room.

“When can I see him?” Roy inquired with a whisper.

“Let’s get him out of recovery and then I’ll let you in,” said Brackett. His eyes locked again with Roy’s, and Roy could see Brackett’s empathy and compassion. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m able to walk away from what happened. Thanks to me, Johnny may never have that chance.

*******

Dixie kept a comforting hand on Roy’s arm as she led him down the hall toward the ICU. “Are you sure you’re ready to see him?” she asked as Roy stumbled on his shaky legs. Roy nodded.

“He’s hooked up to pretty much every machine we have in here,” she warned him. “It’s pretty scary to see, even for those of us who are used to it.”

“I can handle it,” Roy declared. Dixie didn’t miss the note of uncertainty in his voice.

“Good.” She opened the door, and Roy heard the monitors keeping track of Johnny's heartbeat, respirations and blood pressure. He flinched as he heard the mechanical hiss of the respirator. The room was dim and silent except for the symphony of the machine noises. Roy took a deep breath and looked down at his partner, willing himself to face the reality that Johnny was now in. He struggled to maintain his control while Dixie adjusted a few wires.

“Press the call button if you need anything,” Dixie told him, giving Roy’s shoulder a squeeze before she slipped out quietly, leaving Roy to his inner turmoil. Roy continued to stare down at Johnny until a wave of dizziness hit. He sank into the chair next to the bed, the magnitude of his guilt washing over him in waves. "Johnny…I'm…" Roy stopped, his voice faltering. He gulped in some shallow breaths.

I have to talk to him, even if he can’t hear me. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get on with my life. Roy knew the only other option was to dive deeper into the pit of despair, and he wasn't sure he would be able to pull himself out if that happened. So he grabbed Johnny’s hand and pressed it hard in his own.

He has to know that I’m here. He has to know that I can feel this, even if he can’t. How could I’ve been so clumsy and so stupid? "Johnny, I'm here. I…I don't know what exactly happened.” He took a deep breath. “But, if I’ve caused this for you, I’m...”

I’m what? Sorry? Hell of a lot of good that will do him. “I can’t understand how I could have…” The tears began to fall, first one by one, then in a torrent of emotion. Roy lowered his head and sobbed, letting the tension, nerves and anguish out. Loneliness swept over him and he simply let it happen. His heart ached, and he couldn't bear the thought that Johnny would never be the same person because of something Roy had done.

Roy heard the beeps on the heart rate monitor quicken and looked up. He noticed Johnny’s eyelids fluttering. "Johnny? I'm right here." Roy put on his best smile while trying to catch his breath and stop his sobs.

Johnny looked at Roy and tried to speak, but couldn't. "Shh, Johnny, it’s okay,” Roy soothed. “You’ve just come out of surgery, don’t try to talk." Roy saw the confusion in Johnny's eyes. His breaths came in short puffs as he tried to fight the mechanical breathing being imposed on him.

"Come on, Johnny, relax, relax. You can't get all worked up right now. You need to stay calm and let the machine breathe for you," Roy commanded gently. He reached up and pressed the call button. “Let’s get Brackett in here and let him know you’re awake, okay?”

Johnny’s eyes moved back and forth, searching out Roy’s. Roy locked onto Johnny’s gaze and smiled reassuringly. Johnny’s ragged breathing slowly returned to a more normal rhythm. "That's better. Now just keep focusing on your breathing, Johnny. Let the machine do all the work. Good. Good."

Roy desperately held on to his smile as he looked down at his partner, but had to turn away when he saw the questions in Johnny’s eyes. How much do I say? What do I tell him? What if he doesn’t remember either?

Johnny watched the emotions flickering across Roy’s face. This must really be bad. I’ve never seen him so upset before.

He wanted to reach out to Roy and comfort his anguished partner, but his hands refused to follow his commands to move. Dammit! Why aren’t I able to move yet?

Roy saw the anger on Johnny’s face and mistook the reason behind it. He does remember. And he’s blaming me for everything.

*******

Two days later, Johnny was more alert, and with the tube now out of his throat, he was able to speak with some effort. He quietly endured the constant parade of nurses and techs that took blood, adjusted monitors, checked wires and changed dressings. He sighed as he was poked and prodded, shifted and moved about, and coaxed into downing the liquid diet he was on. His wounds were beginning to heal, but he grew more irritable and depressed as his paralysis moved into another day. His only relief was daily visits from Roy, Joanne, Dixie and Hank. Dr. Brackett had ordered no one else visit until Johnny’s strength improved and he was able to tolerate more activity.

Johnny sighed as the door opened, expecting another round of medical attention.

“Hey, Johnny,” said Roy. He pulled up the chair close to Johnny’s bed so he was in Johnny’s line of sight. Johnny was propped up with his arms settled at his sides.

“Roy,” rasped Johnny.

“How are you doing this morning? Anything?” Roy asked anxiously.

“Nothing. I’m so…Dammit!” He paused to catch his breath. Roy reached over instinctively.

“Roy, I’m…” Johnny closed his eyes and sighed. “I can’t believe this.” A sob caught up in his throat. Johnny shuddered. “I’m not feeling a thing, Roy. I…I can’t do this,” he rasped.

“Johnny, it’s still early,” Roy tried to reassure him. “Let’s see what happens as the swelling goes down. Things could change. You’ve got to hang on to that.”

Johnny’s eyes watered and his lids felt heavy. At least I can feel my eyelids. “I can’t live…” He struggled to voice his darkest thoughts. “Not like this…not like this,” he whispered.

His despair now voiced, Johnny wasn’t sure what do next. He noticed Roy looking down, his eyes unable to meet Johnny’s. When Roy finally did look at him again, the pain and anguish in Roy’s eyes made Johnny shudder. He’d never seen such raw emotion on his partner’s face, even during the worst of times. Fear crept through him as he wondered about the reasons behind the pain. This is never going to go away. I’m never going to get better. And he knows it. That’s why he’s looking at me that way.

“Johnny, I am so sorry,” Roy started.

No! I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to hear I’m not going to get better.

“I think that…I might have had something to do…with that gun,” Roy confessed softly.

“The gun?” a confused Johnny asked. Is that what has him so upset?

“I’m still trying to figure out what exactly happened,” Roy continued. “All I remember is holding that gun.” Roy looked back to the floor.

“Roy,” Johnny said. He wanted to grab his friend’s hand but couldn’t. He watched as Roy continued to struggle with his inner turmoil regarding the shooting, yet Johnny couldn’t find the words to comfort him. I should tell him this isn’t his fault. But what if it is? What if he was the one who did this to me? Johnny’s anger overshadowed his desire to comfort his best friend, and all he could do was simply look at Roy for a long moment.

“Roy,” he finally began again. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Johnny’s own despair kept him from finding any hope to give Roy. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t have it to give. And as much as he wanted things to be normal, he didn’t believe they ever would be again. Everything was a mess, and Johnny didn’t know how to rescue himself or his partner.