"Now, Roy, it really wasn't my fault," John protested, as he and his partner entered the locker room.

"Oh yeah? Then whose fault was it, Johnny?" the other asked incredulously.

"Well...whoever is supposed to take care of those kinds of things." Johnny reached to open his locker door.

Roy always found it amusing to watch his partner rationalize these kinds of things. For the first time in months, Johnny had been driving the squad back to the station and he hit a pothole that could have been mistaken for a small canyon. It cost them half the day to have the rim and tire fixed and the wheels realigned.

"Oh...I see...so it's the street departments fault that you didn't watch where you were driving?" asked Roy, sarcastically.

"Now...Roy..." Johnny began to argue, but as he pulled open his locker, he was instantly drenched. He stood there for a few moments, seething...and then stomped off - yelling, "CHET!"

Roy waited until his partner was out of earshot, then responded with a chuckle. "That makes 1000 for the Phantom and 0 for you, partner!"

* * * * *

Gage, fists clenched, was on his way to the day room, when he literally ran into Captain Stanley.

"Is there a problem, John?" Hank asked, looking down at Johnny and noticing that the young man was dripping wet.

"Uh..no, Cap," Johnny answered, looking up at his captain, "...just looking for Chet."

"Why is your uniform all wet then, John?" Hank inquired innocently, knowing full well that the Phantom was up to his pranks again.

"Oh….uh...I opened...my locker…" Johnny started to explain, but was interrupted by the tones:

"Station 51...unknown type rescue..."

"Oh great!" Johnny grumbled as he jumped into the passenger’s seat.

Roy climbed into the driver’s side. Taking the slip of paper with the address from the captain, he handed it to John. A broad grin spread across his face as he glanced once more at his wet and irritated partner and then ahead at the road, knowing better than to make any comment.

They drove about twenty minutes to a ranch off of an old fire road. The “rescue” involved a dog stuck on a ledge jutting out on the side of a cliff. The dog’s owner, a woman in her mid - thirties with two young sons, apologized profusely for her sons’ calling the fire department.

"We understand ma'am," Captain Stanley assured her. "We get these kind of calls often. Maybe we can get the dog down for you… Since we're out here. John? Roy?"

"He must have climbed up there after something and then been to afraid to come back down," the woman explained.

"Please mister… please get Peanut down," begged the smaller boy, tugging insistently on Johnny’s blue uniform pants.

"Peanut?" John asked in disbelief, looking up at the big yellow lab.

"I think we can free climb up there, " Roy stated, estimating the dog to be about thirty feet up. "We’ll need a rope." He looked at John, motioning for him to get a rope. "We’ll tie a harness around the dog and just lower him down," Roy stated.

Happy to be free of the tearful child, Johnny trotted over to the squad to get a rope. He and Roy started up the side of the cliff, the blond man in the lead.

"Stupid dog," Johnny muttered, as soon as he figured no one else could hear him. "Chases some rabbit up a cliff and then is too chicken to come back down."

Roy laughed at his partner’s dark mood, as the two men climbed toward the ledge.

The dog looked over the edge of the landing, watching the two paramedics inch closer.

"It's okay boy." The senior paramedic spoke gently, attempting to keep the dog calm.

Finally, within a few feet of the lab, he reached out his hand, slowly, attempting to gain the dog 's trust. The lab backed up, taking on a defensive stance. He gnashed his teeth and lunged forward at the helpless man. Caught off guard , Roy lost his footing. He began to slide, then roll, back down the side of the cliff, taking John with him. The two landed hard at the bottom. Roy's fall was somewhat cushioned by landing on his partner. He lay there for a few seconds, stunned, until he was startled by Captain Stanley's voice.

"Roy, are you okay?" Hank asked kneeling down next to him.

"Uh...yeah... Cap...I think so.." he answered, suddenly realizing someone was underneath him. He quickly moved off Johnny.

"Johnny, you okay?" he queried, kneeling over the younger paramedic who was lying motionless. "Johnny, can you hear me?" Roy asked, fear welling up in his voice. "Johnny..." he gently patted his cheek.

John slowly rolled his head and opened his eyes. He looked up into the concerned faces of Captain Stanley and Roy. He quickly sat up, groaning at the dizziness and pain brought on by the fast motion. Roy and Hank exchanged a worried glance.

A barking noise drew their attention. They looked up to see that the dog had apparently decided to climb down on his own.

“Great,” mumbled John.

The frazzled young mother ran over. “Is he ok? I am so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” John assured her, as he tried to stand up. Roy put his hand on his partner’s shoulder, gently preventing that move.

The captain led the woman away, assuring her that everything was under control. Then he returned to where Roy and John sat. Chet and Marco retrieved the equipment from the Squad and put it next to the now incredibly miserable and still damp John.

“I’m okay,” John protested.

Hank Stanley regarded him calmly, “Why don’t we let Roy check you out, ok, pal.” It was not a request.

John winced as Roy grabbed his head and shined a penlight in his eyes. He quickly checked John’s vitals.

“Everything checks out normal,” he said.

“I told you,” John grumbled.

Roy picked up the bio-phone. Quickly, Johnny grabbed his hand. “What are you doing? You don’t need to call this in. I’m fine. “

“John, you were out cold,” voiced Roy. He looked up at the captain, shrugging his shoulders.

“Do we need an ambulance Roy?” asked Hank, silencing John’s protestations with a look.

“No,” uttered Roy. “But I think I should take him over to Rampart and let them check him out.”

John once again opened his mouth to object, but Stanley quickly cut him off. ”John, that’s enough! You’re going! That’s an order, pal.”

John picked himself up from the ground, ignoring Roy’s proffered hand. He headed to the squad and sulkily climbed into the passenger’s seat. Roy and Hank exchanged a grin. Then, the guys helped Roy load up his equipment. It was a silent ride to Rampart.

As they pulled into the ambulance bay, Roy glanced at John, “You know, this isn’t a punishment. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

John looked out the window without answering. Roy sighed. It’s gonna be one of those shifts! When the squad stopped, the dark-haired man remained in his seat. Roy got out and went over to open the passenger door. Johnny finally climbed out without a word and walked into the hospital. Roy hurried to catch up, thinking to himself that his 6-year-old son acted more mature than his partner.

When they reached the nurses station, they found Dixie and Dr. Morton.

“What have we here?” asked Morton, grinning. “Fire Department relaxing that dress code, Gage? Your uniform’s a bit…messy.”

Silently, Johnny glared at the doctor.

“Hey, Dixie,” Roy said. “Can someone take a look at Johnny? He hit his head on our last run.”

John rolled his eyes as a look of concern crossed the faces of the medical personnel.

“I can take him,” offered Mike Morton, leading the way to a Treatment Room.

"Oh great... Morton," Johnny muttered under his breath. "Thanks a lot, partner!"

Grinning, Roy took his partner by the arm and lead him into the treatment room. He was accustomed to Gage's mood swings. Sometimes he found them annoying while other times they were amusing. This particular day he was finding John's antics to be a mixture of both. At the moment, he wanted to laugh.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Morton asked, as he gestured for Johnny to get on the exam table.

"Nothing...I just fell and hit my head,” John answered, casually.

"He fell...well actually, we both fell, about thirty feet down the side of a cliff,” Roy explained. "I landed on top of him. When I got up, he was out cold."

"Are you okay?" Mike asked, turning to look at Roy.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just had the wind knocked out of me," he answered.

"How long was he out?" Mike queried Roy, knowing Gage wasn't about to offer any information. Johnny crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at his partner and Morton both.

"No more than two minutes," Roy informed him. The doctor nodded, turning back to his recalcitrant patient.

As Morton was checking Gage's pupils, he continued his interrogation. "Any dizziness?"

"No," Gage replied.

"He was dizzy for a few minutes when he came to," Roy offered, ignoring the disgusted look from his partner.

"Nausea?" Morton continued.

"No."

"Blurred vision?"

"Doc! I said I feel fine!" Johnny cried impatiently.

"Yes and I've heard that one from you before, Gage," Morton commented, flatly. "Now, follow the penlight with your eyes..."

"Oh come on!" John snapped.

"Gage, the more you complain, the longer this will take!" Morton barked. "Now follow the penlight with your eyes!" he repeated.

"Man..." Johnny grumbled, as he finally complied.

Roy leaned against the wall, grinning. He always got a charge from watching a good "Gage/Morton exchange". While Brackett and Early tended to placate his partner, Morton didn't have the time or patience to deal with Johnny’s stubbornness.

"Well, I could have him stay overnight for observation," Dr. Morton concluded, knowing that would get a rise out of Gage.

John's eye's grew wide. "Uh...Morton..." he started to protest, but was cut off when the doctor continued.

"I won’t though, Gage. Just because I'm not in the mood to put up with you today." Morton turned to Roy. “Get him out of here. I’ve got sick people to see."

"So, he's okay to go back to work?" Roy asked.

"Well, I don't know about him being okay...in general, but yes, I'm clearing him for duty."

Johnny let out a sigh of relief and hopped down from the table. As his feet hit the floor, he swayed a little as a wave of dizziness engulfed him.

"Whoa, Johnny, are you sure you’re okay?" Roy asked, noticing his unsteadiness.

John shook his head in an attempt to recover and then smiled, trying to play it off. "Yes, dad!" Roy rolled his eyes.

"John, if that dizziness continues you need to let us know," Morton told him, suddenly having second thoughts about releasing him.

"What dizziness?" John smiled and shrugged. "Don't worry, Doc,” he called behind him. He hurried to the door, not giving Morton a chance to change his mind.

"Hey, Roy," Dr. Morton stopped him, sounding a little concerned. "Keep an eye on him."

"Always Doc,” Roy assured him and followed his partner out of the room.

* * * * *

The ride back to the station was much more 'interesting' than the ride to the hospital had been. Johnny rambled on and on about the "dumb dog" from the last rescue. Roy was thankful that his partner’s mood had lightened and he was at least talkative now. Although, he wasn't sure how long he would be thankful for the latter.

Roy backed the squad into the bay and turned the engine off. "I don't know about you but I'm starving!" he said as he got out. He looked over at Johnny who was climbing out of the squad. As John shut the door, Roy noticed that he paused, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

"Still dizzy?" Roy asked trying not to act overly concerned. He knew he had a tendency to worry, and Johnny was often impatient with Roy’s paternal instincts towards him.

"No," his partner answered. "I just have a little headache."

"I'm sure Cap could call in a replacement for you, if you're not feeling well." Roy suggested. He studied his partner closely.

"I'll be okay," Johnny uttered. "I just need some aspirin."

Roy watched as Johnny headed to the locker room. He turned to see Captain Stanley watching also.

“Is he okay?” he asked Roy.

Roy shrugged.

“They approved him for duty. Says he just has a headache.” He turned to his superior. “Probably wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him this shift.”

Hank nodded.

But the rest of that shift passed uneventfully. Within an hour, John seemed fine. All complaints of a headache or dizziness had stopped. Before the shift ended, even Roy had begun to forget about the ill-fated “dog rescue.”

* * * *

Roy entered the locker room, surprised to see his partner there already. Johnny was sitting in front of his locker, his brow furrowed.

“You’re early,” said Roy, startling John.

“Yeah,” Johnny answered shortly. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Women problems...again,” surmised Chet, entering the locker room.

Johnny threw him a dirty look, as he opened his locker. "The Phantom" had also arrived early. Gage's locker had been rigged with a little surprise that burst forth as the unsuspecting paramedic pulled open the door. Soaking wet, John jumped over the bench and threw the stunned fireman against a wall.

“That wasn’t funny, Kelly.” The paramedic was fuming.

Taken aback, Roy quickly stepped in, pulling Johnny off of Chet. “Come on, Johnny. Don’t.” He turned to Kelly. “Chet, I think you better leave.”

The shocked fireman beat a hasty retreat from the locker room. Roy regarded his partner carefully.

“Overreacted a bit, don’t you think?”

“I just didn’t think that was funny!” John voiced angrily as he pulled away from Roy and began to dry off and dress.

Roy looked at his partner, unsure of what to say.

John sighed. “Alright, I’ll apologize.” He turned back around and continued dressing.

Roy continued to stare at Johnny, his eyebrows raised.

“Look, maybe I did overreact. I guess I just…haven't been getting much sleep, lately.”

“You’re not sleeping?” asked Roy, jumping on the physical condition . “Is there a problem?”

John rolled his eyes. He turned to Roy and answered in a clipped tone. “I just had a bad night. Does there have to be a reason for everything?”

Roy’s mouth dropped. Johnny suddenly felt remorseful, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. And I’ll find Chet and say I’m sorry to him, too.” John closed his eyes, massaging his temples.

Slowly, Roy nodded. He followed Johnny into the kitchen area. Johnny grabbed two mugs and filled them with coffee. He handed one to Roy. Then, he approached Chet.

“Look, Chet,“ he began. “I’m sorry. I guess I overreacted a little.”

Chet snorted, “A little!” He turned to Marco. “He calls trying to kill me ‘overreacting a little’.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Oh, who’s overreacting now. I didn’t try to kill you.” He rubbed his forehead.

“I’ll let it go this time, Gage.” He got up and left for roll call, followed by Marco.

John looked at Roy. “Can you believe that guy?”

Roy just shook his head and followed the others. It’s another long shift!

A few hours later, the atmosphere at the station had deteriorated to such that most of the men couldn’t wait for the end of the shift. Johnny and Chet bickered until finally Hank stepped in, demanding they cool it. Johnny turned on his heels and left the room.

He headed to the locker room, rubbing his forehead. He knew that Stanley was right. But for some reason he couldn’t help himself. He had such a headache and Chet was just aggravating it. He opened his locker and removed a bottle of aspirin. He swallowed two. Then, for good measure, he took a third. He leaned his aching head against his cool locker door.

“Are you okay?”

Johnny jumped, turning to Mike Stoker. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Just a little headache.”

He left the room, heading back to the dayroom. He flopped into a chair and closed his eyes. In a few minutes he was asleep.

The rest of the men tiptoed around, not wanting to wake him. They were thankful for a reprieve from the hostility going on between Gage and Kelly.

A half-hour later, the tones rang out. "Squad 51...man down..."

Johnny didn’t move. Marco and Mike looked at each other. Finally, Marco shook the sleeping man.

“John,” he said. “Wake up. You got a call.”

"Wha..?" he asked, groggily. He got up unsteadily and headed for the squad. As he reached the door, Captain Stanley grabbed his arm.

“You okay, Gage?”

John nodded and Stanley let him go. He climbed into the passenger seat, where Roy was waiting impatiently. Roy glanced at John, who was sitting with his eyes closed. He decided to let it go, not up for any arguments.

The run turned out to be an elderly man, suffering from the flu and dehydration. Rampart recommended an IV of D5W and .6 liters of oxygen and to transport. Roy readied the injection, waiting for John to hand him the fluid bag. Finally he looked up. His partner was staring at the drug box, not moving.

“Johnny!” Roy said loudly.

Johnny looked blankly at him.

Roy stared at him. “D5W.”

“Right,” uttered John, grabbing the bag and handing it to Roy.

As the man was being loaded into the ambulance, Roy again eyed his partner.

“I’ll ride in with him, Ok?”

John nodded.

“Are you alright to drive?” He could never remember John seeming quite this distracted.

“I’m fine!” John snapped. He headed to the squad. Roy shook his head and climbed into the ambulance.

* * * *

Once at Rampart, John headed off to fill their supplies. Frowning, Roy watched him retreat.

“Earth to Roy DeSoto!”

He spun his head and grinned. “Hi, Dix.”

The head nurse smiled. “So where were you, because you weren’t here.”

Roy sighed, “I was just…well, actually, it’s Johnny that’s not here today.”

Dixie looked surprised. “What do you mean? I just passed him!”

Roy glanced at her. “He’s just not himself today. I don’t know…he seems so…distracted. Not to mention moody! ”

Dixie smiled. “Sounds like Johnny.”

“I was waiting for him to hand me D5W on the last run,” Roy explained flatly, “and he was just sitting, staring at the drug box.”

It was Dixie’s turn to frown. ‘That doesn’t sound like Johnny.”

Roy nodded, opening his mouth, but he shut it as Johnny approached.

“Ready?” asked Johnny.

Roy glanced at his partner’s empty arms. “Where’s the supplies?”

“What supplies?”

“Johnny, you went to get supplies.” Roy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“No, I didn’t,” Johnny argued. “I thought you were getting them.”

Roy glanced at Dixie. Her eyebrows were raised. Before he could say anything else, the HT came to life, "Squad 51...what's your status?”

"Squad 51 - available," Roy said into the HT.

The two paramedics started for the exit. The tones could be heard through the HT "...Station 51...structure fire..."

Dixie watched them leave, shaking her head. She wondered which pretty nurse had bewitched John Gage this time. Then she headed off to the nurses’ station.

* * * *

The engine was already at the scene when the squad arrived. The lower level of the house was partially involved and another engine had been called out to assist. Roy and Johnny hurriedly donned their turnout coats and SCBA gear and ran over to Captain Stanley. The captain was trying to calm a hysterical woman who was screaming and frantically waving her arms.

"She just arrived home and thinks her husband might be in there," Hank explained and then turned back to the woman. "Ma'am, just calm down! As soon as we can, we're gonna get in there to check it out. Roy, John, run around to the back. I think it looks safer to get in that way." Spotting the second engine pull up, Stanley called out,"Lopez, Kelly! Go with Gage and DeSoto!"

The four men ran around to the back of the house. Lopez and Kelly hauled the hose along with them. There was a lot of smoke, but the flames weren't nearly as threatening as in the front. Johnny and Roy made a quick sweep through the lower level, while Marco and Chet tried to hold back the fire. Upstairs, they found the husband unconscious in the master bedroom. John hoisted the man over his shoulders and made his way down the stairs and outside. Roy followed closely behind.

The man was suffering from smoke inhalation and regained consciousness shortly after receiving oxygen. He was protesting any trip to the hospital and refused any further treatment from the paramedics.

"Well, let's just see what a doctor thinks you should do." Roy spoke kindly, trying to convince the man to cooperate, as he set up the bio-phone. "Rampart, this is squad 51."

"Go ahead 51," Dr. Brackett's voice came back.

"Rampart we have a male, 45 years old...victim of smoke inhalation. He was unconscious when we found him, but we've administered O2 and he has since regained consciousness. He is refusing any other treatment, Rampart."

"51, are his vital signs good?" Brackett asked.

"That's affirmative, Rampart."

There was a pause, then Brackett responded, "Advise the victim that he should see his family doctor."

"10-4 Rampart."

Roy put down the phone and looked over at his partner, "Johnny we're gonna have to have him fill out a MICU form."

Johnny didn't acknowledge his partner; instead, he was staring at his hand. He made a fist and then unclenched it, looking puzzled.

"Johnny," Roy repeated impatiently.

"Huh?"

"I need a MICU."

"Okay, okay,” John said shortly. “I'll get one. You don’t have to jump down my throat about it." He reached over to the drug box and pulled the form out and handed it to Roy, who rolled his eyes.

"Sir, I need you to sign this for me," Roy explained, " it just say's that you're refusing treatment." He handed the man the form and a pen. The man signed it, thanking the paramedics for getting him out and promising to see his doctor. Roy and John then packed up their equipment and started loading it into the squad.

"What was going on with you back there?" Roy asked, as he closed the compartment doors.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you seem so distracted. What’s with the fist? Did you hurt your hand or something?"

"No, I don't think so...it...just felt kinda weird," he answered, raising his hand up and making a fist again. "It feels okay, now."

"Maybe you pulled something carrying that guy out?" Roy surmised. "Why don't we have someone take a look at Rampart."

"Oh come on Roy! Lay off!" Johnny snapped. "This "mother hen thing" is really starting to bug me! Don't you have anything better to do?"

Shocked only momentarily, Roy quickly shot back. "Well, if you'd be more careful, maybe I wouldn't have to bug you so much." I don’t know how much more of this I can take!

"Okay, Cap," acknowledged Roy. "We need to stop at Rampart and pick up some supplies." Since someone else forgot to!

* * * * *

The trip to Rampart and then back to the station had been a silent one. Johnny sat sullenly, staring out the window. Roy was thankful for the quiet, but at the same time, disturbed by the tension between them.

Arriving back at the station, they saw the engine was still missing. Roy went straight to the locker room to wash up. He had expected Johnny to do the same. When he didn't, Roy went to find him, determined to work out their problems. He found the other man asleep at the kitchen table.

Red flags began to go up in Roy's mind. He couldn't put his finger on anything in particular, but something was going on with his partner. It was beginning to worry him. He approached Johnny and shook him lightly. When his friend didn’t react, Roy shook him a little harder, softly calling his name. John startled awake, staring blankly at Roy. Roy studied him for a minute, before calling his name again.

“Yeah,” said John, finally fully awake. He rubbed his eyes hard.

“I thought you’d want to clean up,” said Roy.

“Okay,” answered Johnny. He continued to sit at the table. Roy sat down next to him.

‘Are you okay?” he asked Johnny. “Is something bothering you?”

John looked puzzled. “No. What would be bothering me?”

Roy paused. “You just…don’t seem 'here' today.”

“Oh... well I’m sorry if I'm not perfect, like you,” John snapped. He got up quickly and headed to the locker room.

“Well that went well!” Roy said aloud as he watched Johnny stalk from the room. Hopefully, whatever’s bothering him will work its way out soon…for all our sakes

John was startled awake by the telephone. Fumbling around, he knocked the receiver onto the floor. He swore softly as he groped for the phone. Grabbing it, he placed it up to his head.

“Hello,” he barked.

“Gage?” questioned Captain Howard. “I have you down for an overtime shift today. Is that right or some mistake?”

John was puzzled. “I guess it’s right; I’m sorry. It must have slipped my mind. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Good man.” The captain hung up the phone.

Johnny swore again, as he climbed out of bed. I can’t believe I forgot about the overtime! What a lousy way to start this day. As he reached the bathroom, he was overcome with dizziness. Quickly, he sat on the edge of the tub, holding onto the wall until his head cleared. To top it off, he was feeling nauseous. This is going to be one long miserable day!

John stood at the sink in the locker room, rubbing his head. This was the third or fourth headache he had in about as many days. He swallowed three aspirins and rinsed his face with cool water. Already it had been a long shift. They had dealt with two traffic accidents, a child with his foot stuck in a fence, and a small house fire. The overtime shift the day before had been almost non-stop responses. He was exhausted. To top it off, it was his turn to cook. With this headache, the last thing he felt like doing was dealing with food.

Chet entered the locker room. “Goofin off as usual, Gage.”

John sighed. “Don’t start, Chet.”

“Whassa matter, Johnny boy? Can’t take it?” Chet chortled.

"Chet, just lay off!" he shouted. He immediately regretted raising his voice. His head was pounding.

"Excuse me! Why so grumpy, Gage? Dumped again? Too bad, I guess she must have wanted a real man, huh?"

Without thinking, Johnny struck out. He swung his fist, catching Chet in the jaw. A stunned Chet rubbed his lower jaw, staring at the now remorseful Johnny.

“I-I’m sorry, Chet.” John looked as surprised as Chet was.

Chet yelled angrily, “Man, what is with you lately, Gage? Whoever she is, get over it!” He stomped out of the locker room.

John sank down on the bench of the locker room, his head in his hands. He was miserable. Now on top of feeling just plain lousy, he would probably get suspended for hitting Chet! What was with him? Whatever it was, even he wasn’t sure. He shouldn’t have worked the overtime. He was just too tired…that’s all. He sat for a while, his head in his hands. Finally, he got up and went to the dorm. He lay on his bunk with his arm over his eyes and fell asleep.

A short while later, Captain Stanley walked into the kitchen. “Where’s Gage? Isn’t it his turn to cook?”

“We’d be better off with take-out,” smirked Chet. “The way he’s been lately, I’d worry that the food was poisoned.” Hank shot Chet a warning look.

“I hate to agree with Chet,” added Marco, “but Roy, what is up with John these days?”

Roy shook his head, mystified. “I've been wondering that myself.”

The captain sighed. “Someone go find Gage. And Roy, see if you can talk to him, before I have to.”

Roy got up. I'm probably going to hate myself for this...“Okay.” He searched the Engine bay and the locker room. Then he headed into the dorm. He frowned when he saw Johnny asleep again. He walked over to wake him up. Once again, it took a while to rouse the sleeping paramedic.

Johnny groaned. “What?”

“It’s your turn to cook. “ Roy scrutinized his friend. “Johnny, I know you don’t want to hear it, but you are just not yourself. I’m beginning to really worry about you. Are you sure you’re ok?”

John rubbed his temples. “Tired…long overtime shift with 118 yesterday… just have a headache.”

Roy continued to study his partner. “Maybe you‘re coming down with something.”

John just nodded slightly and dragged himself off the bunk. He swayed as he stood. Roy grabbed his arm to steady him.

“I’m okay,” John told him again. “Just stop hovering over me!”

He shot Roy an angry look as he pulled his arm away and headed for the kitchen.

Fine, partner...have it your way, thought Roy. He was fed up with this disposition of Johnny’s.

* * * *

Johnny entered the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. He grabbed ground meat for hamburgers, completely unaware of the surreptitious looks his fellow co-workers were giving him. He dumped the meat into a bowl. Without warning, he felt his stomach turn over. He fled the room, nearly knocking over Roy.

For a minute, Roy hesitated but guilt got the better of him. He turned around and headed in the same direction as the fleeing Johnny. Roy found him in a stall, losing what little lunch he had bothered to eat. He wet a wash cloth and handed it to his friend. John wiped his face then got up to rinse his mouth. He sat on the small bench and looked sheepishly at Roy.

“I guess I am coming down with something.” John looked at Roy out of the corner of his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Roy sighed, taking pity on the sick man. He reached out to feel his friend’s forehead. “Well, you don’t have a fever.”

“Maybe it’s a migraine…not enough sleep or something,” answered John. “My head really hurts.”

“Let Cap get a replacement for you,” Roy said. “Go home.”

"I agree," Hank interjected, startling both men. "John, pal, maybe you need to cut down the overtime shifts. Do you want me to have Roy drive you home?"

"No, Cap, I don't need anyone to drive me home,” he replied, in a hostile tone. Did I just say that to the Cap? Man, I need some sleep.

"Okay, fine, Gage." Captain Stanley knew it wasn't like John to be disrespectful toward him. He took no offense at the tone of voice Gage had used, attributing it to the headache. "Go home and get some sleep. You look like hell."

Roy and Hank turned and left Johnny alone in the locker room.

John placed his head into his hands and sighed. He couldn’t recall ever having a headache like this, not even when concussed. He sat for a minute, too tired to even change out of his uniform. Then, he grabbed his keys out of the locker and headed to his Land Rover. When he reached for the door handle, he got a tingling sensation from his hand all the way up to his shoulder. Not this again, he thought, shaking his arm in an attempt to make the feeling pass. He wanted to tell Roy, but he couldn’t, not after accusing him of hovering. And with the way he’d been acting lately, why should Roy be concerned? Also, for some reason he was afraid. He kept hoping that he just had a virus or something and that it would all go away. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. Gotta get some sleep!

* * * * *

Chet was looking through the cupboards trying to find extra ingredients to add to his "special burgers”. He was no longer angry, even though he had been stuck making dinner. Truth be told, he was a little worried about the way John was acting lately. He hardly ever gets mad, no matter what I do to him, Chet thought. Something is definitely going on with him. He wondered if Roy had any ideas. Oh well, thought Chet. Roy’ll handle it.

* * * * *

Johnny hadn't driven more than a mile from the station, when the pain in his skull nearly debilitated him. He was sure that his head had never hurt this badly before. Now, he wished that he had told Roy how bad he really felt. Roy probably hates me, anyway. I’ve been such a jerk…and I can’t believe I hit Chet! They’re all probably glad I left. He wished he at least had let someone drive him home. His vision was becoming blurry. Finally, he had to pull over.

Can't drive like this, he thought. He pulled into an empty service station lot. It was nearly dark out. He hoped no one would see him. Is that a pay phone? Maybe I should call the station. He sat for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, willing the pain to go away. When it didn’t, he dug into his pocket and pulled out change. His vision was so blurred that he was unable to make out the coins. He hoped that he had the right amount.

He got out of his Rover and walked to the pay phone. With each step, he felt as if he was about to pass out. He had a hard time getting the money into the slot, dropping a coin or two on the floor of the phone booth. It took all of his concentration to find the right numbers to dial. Please, let this be right. He waited...

"LA county Fire Station 51." It's Chet...

"Chet...,” he broke off, as a sharp pain filled his head. Oh God, I feel sick.

"Hello... who is this?"

"Chet...it's me..." I'm gonna pass out...

"Johnny, is that you? What do you want?"

Just then, everything went black.

"John...are you there? Gage... if this is your idea of a joke..."

* * * *

Chet waited for a response. After a few moments without hearing anything, he hung up the phone. I wonder what that was all about, he thought to himself as he went back to his cooking. Oh well, if it’s important, he’ll call back.

A short time later, everyone was seated at the table. "Dinner is served," said Chet, placing a platter of his "special burgers" on the table. Tom Dwyer had come in to finish Gage's shift.

"Wow Chet, these look really good!" Roy commented.

"Yeah, they smell pretty good, too," added Mike.

Marco and Hank bit into their burgers at the same time. Marco quickly grabbed a napkin and spat his mouthful into it. Hank made a disgusted face as he slowly finished chewing and took a big gulp of milk.

"Aaaahh... Kelly, what did you do to these?" Stanley questioned, still making the face.

"They taste terrible!" Marco complained, after drinking his entire glass of milk.

Chet was looking at them in disbelief, "I think they taste pretty good! They're not any worse than Gage would make them!"

"I don't know about that!" Marco replied. Even Gage doesn't cook this bad.

"By the way...he called a while ago," Chet told the others. "I don't know why...he just hung up on me."

"Really? When was that?" Roy asked.

"Not too long after he left."

"Well, what did he say?" Captain Stanley asked, seeming concerned.

"I told you... he hung up. He said, "Chet...it's me," and he hung up."

"He was pretty sick today," Stoker commented.

"Well, I hope he's okay. He didn't look too good when he left here," Hank remarked.

Roy frowned, suddenly feeling guilty for letting his anger with Johnny cloud his medical judgement. I probably shouldn’t have let him drive himself home.

"Kelly, you twit! Why didn't you tell us that he called, earlier?" Hank admonished.

"Well, I didn't think it was a big deal!" Chet shrugged.

"You knew he was sick...what if he needed help?" Mike reproved.

"Come on guys..." Chet couldn't believe he was getting the third degree for this.

"No answer," Roy told them. "Cap...he was pretty sick, what if..."

"He's probably just sleeping," Captain Stanley surmised, "but if you and Dwyer want to drive over there...on your way to picking us up some dinner that's edible...that's fine with me."

Roy looked at Dwyer, who nodded and the two of them headed out.

John Gage awoke, finding himself lying on the pavement.

Where am I? He looked around, noting that he was in a parking lot. How in the hell did I get here? He didn't see his Rover anywhere. He looked down, realizing he was in his uniform. I must be out on a run…but where’s Roy? And the squad? Man...Now I gotta walk. He had no recollection of how he had gotten to where he was. The last thing he remembered was getting ready to cook dinner at the station. Then how did I get here?

He got up and started walking. He was feeling dizzy and didn't really know for sure where he was headed.

Roy and Tom Dwyer arrived back at Station 51 with dinner, take out hamburgers and fries. Roy hurried into the kitchen. "Has anyone heard from him?"

"No, we haven't. Wasn’t he at home?" Captain Stanley asked.

"No. We were hoping he called,” Dwyer explained. The men looked uneasy with Roy growing more disturbed by the minute.

"This isn't adding up. He was feeling pretty lousy. He had to be too sick to go anywhere else."

"You think he was sick enough to go to the hospital? Why don't you try calling?" Dwyer picked up the phone, dialed and handed it to Roy.

Roy asked to speak with Dixie. He explained the situation to her, but she assured him that she hadn't seen Johnny at all that evening. Roy mentioned the headaches and the nausea, the disorientation that Johnny seemed to be suffering. He told her how he'd caught his partner asleep at odd times and how hard Johnny was to rouse, even sleeping through the tones! He also mentioned the hostility that was alienating practically everyone at the station.

"Now, Roy, calm down. I'm sure he's fine. Listen, Dr Morton is standing right here. Why don't you fill him in and see what he thinks." Dixie handed the phone to Mike Morton.

Roy repeated the details of his conversation with Dixie to Dr. Morton. After a long pause, Morton asked, "How long has this been going on?"

"Probably a couple of weeks, maybe less," Roy answered.

Morton hesitated again. "Since he took that fall?”

Roy paused. He had forgotten all about the that. Suddenly it all fell into place. "You know you're right Doc! I’d say it all started after that!"

"Well, I hate to say this..." Morton responded, "but you better find him and get him in here. It could be nothing. But with the symptoms you mentioned...well, it could be something serious."

"Doc, you checked him out yourself."

"Yes...I know that. But you know as well as I that complications can arise from even a mild head injury," he stated. Morton was now regretting that he hadn't checked Gage out more thoroughly. "A lot of these complications do occur post-trauma. At any rate, I suggest you get him in here, soon."

"Yeah, that would be nice...if I knew where the hell he was," he said, angrily. Roy knew that Johnny was being difficult that night, but he couldn't help being upset that Morton may not have checked him over as well as he should.

"Sorry, can't help you there...but we'll let you know if he comes in." Morton offered, trying to put a hasty end to the conversation.

Roy hung up the phone. "Cap, we gotta find him."

"Okay, Roy, but first, calm down," Hank insisted. "I'll call the police and see if they know anything or can do anything to help. Then I’ll call this in to dispatch."

* * * *

A short while later, Tom Dwyer and Roy were in the squad searching for John. Vince Howard had spoken with the captain and agreed to keep an eye out for Johnny and his Land Rover. Roy and Dwyer checked out all of the possible routes to John’s house. Their search was fruitless. About two hours later, they received word from the police station that John’s Land Rover had been found. Two teenagers had been joy riding in it. The teens swore they found it abandoned, keys in the engine, near an old service station. The squad sped to that location.

“Do you see anything?” Roy asked frantically. In the last couple hours, he had been replaying the past few shifts in his head. All of the red flags that had been raised by Johnny’s behavior now taunted him. He berated himself for not insisting John level with him. He should have forced his partner to see a doctor. He should have remembered the head injury. What kind of paramedic am I? What kind of friend am I?

* * * *

Back at the station, the rest of the men waited for word. Chet was also was riddled with guilt. He knew Johnny wasn’t himself…Gage would never have hit me. And here, the guy calls, probably for help, and what did I do? I hang up the phone. Just hung it up, no questions asked!

The tones went off, calling out the Engine. Reluctantly, the men hurried to respond, hating to leave without word of their friend. All hoped that Roy and Dwyer reported in soon.

* * * *

The two paramedics were not having much luck. All Roy found was some change at the bottom of the phone booth. Frustrated, he struck the side of the pay phone with his clenched fist. Where are you, Johnny?.

Suddenly, Dwyer called out, "Hey Roy! Look at this."

“What did you find?” asked the other, anxiously

Dwyer held out a small object that read... J. Gage. John’s nametag. Roy sighed.

“Well, he was definitely here. But, where could he have gone?”

“Look,” answered Tom. “I think we should head back to the station. Maybe he’ll call. We can swing by his apartment before we go back. For all we know, he headed home.”

Roy frowned. “Without his car? Without calling his car in stolen?”

Roy knew Dwyer was right, but he just felt so damned helpless.

He looked at Dwyer. “All Chet had to do was take the call. If he wouldn’t have hung up on him, we’d have had him by now.”

“Come on, Roy,” said Dwyer. “Look, we’re both upset. Let’s just …get moving.”

Stoker carefully backed the Engine into the Bay. There call had been a false alarm; the run was cancelled before they had even arrived at the scene. The men climbed down from the engine and headed towards the kitchen, Stoker in the lead.

"I'll make some coffee," he offered. Then he glanced over at the couch and did a double take.

“Cap!” he cried. There was John, sleeping on the couch. Hank hurried over, taking in the younger man’s disheveled appearance. He gently shook John’s shoulder.

“John?” he called. “Pal? What are you doing here?”

Johnny slowly opened his eyes and looked into the concerned faces of his co-workers. He started to rise.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I musta fell asleep.”

Hank Stanley frowned. “Gage, you’re supposed to be home sleeping. You scared us, buddy.”

John looked confused, “Home? But it’s my turn to cook…right?” Shakily, he tried to stand again.

Alarmed, Stanley gently pushed him back onto the couch. “No, pal, it’s ok. Chet already made dinner. Take it easy.” He turned to the others. “Marco, call dispatch. Still alarm, code I… and get the squad here fast.” He turned back to Gage. Johnny was leaning back with his eyes closed, rubbing his forehead.

"Chet cooked dinner?" asked Johnny. "Did I eat?” He moaned. “I'm not very hungry."

“It’s ok, pal. We’re gonna have Roy come back and take a look at you.” Hank kept a restraining arm on the paramedic’s shoulder.

“I’m ok,” John protested, weakly, “Jus… jus a little headache.” He closed his eyes, leaning back onto the couch, his face sheet-white.

Chet looked at his friend. This is more than a little headache. I should have known that something was wrong with Johnny days ago. But I was too busy teasing him. Chet felt a knot in the pit of his stomach.

John attempted to sit up once more, but was again restrained. "Cap, really, I feel better...don't tell Roy...he’ll make a big deal...” He squirmed on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position to make his head stop pounding. He began to groan in great pain.

Hank looked up at Mike Stoker.

“Where’s that squad?” he asked, as he gently held a writhing Johnny down. Stoker ran to check the squad’s ETA. Johnny moaned and closed his eyes. Just then, the squad’s siren could be heard approaching.

“Thank God, “ said Marco nervously.

* * * *

Roy jumped out of the squad and ran into the dayroom. Stoker helped Dwyer grab the equipment and they quickly followed the blonde paramedic, who was already kneeling at Johnny’s side.

“Hey Johnny, we've been worried about you. ” Roy rambled, as he placed his fingers on the ill man’s wrist and checked his pulse. “Decide to take a little walk tonight?” He turned to Dwyer. “Pulse is 110."

Johnny never responded.

Dwyer was already on the phone to Rampart.

Dixie had taken the call from 51. She quickly paged Dr. Brackett to the phone. Earlier that evening, she had filled him in on Roy’s concerns, and they were anxiously awaiting news on John.

"Johnny...are you with me?” Roy continued his exam.

"Roy?" Johnny opened his eyes, trying to stand.

"Yeah, Junior, it's me. You just take it easy!" He put a hand on John's chest, restraining him.

"What are you doing?" John demanded, struggling against his partner.

"Hey, just take it easy...we're just going to check you out, okay?" Roy answered, calmly. "Johnny...do you know where you are?" Johnny looked confused, and not very happy to find himself held down and being examined.

Captain Stanley moved next to Roy, trying to keep the agitated young man still. The more they tried to control him, the more he seemed to fight.

"Rampart, patient has become combative. Stand by." Dwyer handed the phone to Marco, ready to help out with Gage, if needed.

At Rampart, both Dr. Brackett and Dixie were upset to hear this turn of events. John’s symptoms did not bode well.

Johnny continued to fight off his friends. Finally, Roy put his hand up, gesturing for everyone to back off. "Cap...hold on a second." He turned back to the combative man . "Johnny, listen to me..." he said in a gentle tone. "We’ll let you go, but you have to calm down. Do you understand?" Roy motioned for the captain to let go, ready to grab his partner if the plan didn't work.

As Hank slowly released his grip, John quit struggling.

Roy sighed with relief. "Okay, Johnny...now, listen to me, no one is going to hurt you. You know that don't you?"

John nodded his head, now somewhat subdued. But Roy was aware of the look of fear in his eyes.

“Can you tell me what day this is?" Roy asked. Johnny stared at him, uncomprehending. Roy frowned.

"I'm going to check your pupils, okay?"

Again Gage nodded, warily. Roy quickly flashed the penlight in John’s eyes. "Pupils are unequal," he stated to Dwyer, who relayed the information to Rampart. “Johnny, have you taken anything, any medication?” Once again, his partner stared at him, looking confused.

The sound of the ambulance sirens filled the air, throwing the confused man into another rampage. This time it took both Roy and Hank to hold him down. Trapped, Johnny started making low, guttural noises, like an animal, fighting to escape. No one noticed Chet leave the room. Guilt had consumed him to a point where he couldn’t bear to watch.

Dwyer requested permission to sedate the patient.

“Negative, 51. We don’t want to mask any head trauma symptoms until we know what we’re dealing with,” responsed Kelly Brackett. “Do your best to restrain him. Start an IV of D5W TKO. Continue monitoring vitals and transport immediately.”

“10-4,” Dwyer acknowledged. He turned to Roy and the others. The ambulance attendants had turned off the sirens, which seemed to calm Johnny down. Roy and the captain were both speaking to him in soothing tones.

* * * *

Johnny felt panicky. His head hurt, his vision was blurred and all he could hear was a loud buzzing. He felt something holding him down and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t move. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head. He cried out softly. Then everything went black.

* * * *

Roy felt his heart skip a beat. He yelled to Dwyer, “He’s out.” Dwyer relayed the update to Rampart. They quickly loaded Johnny onto the stretcher and rushed him into the waiting ambulance. Roy was climbing in behind him when someone grabbed his arm. He turned to face Hank Stanley.

“Make sure you call us.”

Roy nodded. Minutes later, the ambulance sped off into the night.

Marco, Mike and Hank watched the ambulance and squad depart. Hank sighed and looked at his men. Then he looked around the room, frowning.

“Where’s Chet?” he asked. Mike and Marco looked around. Marco went to find him, becoming concerned when he wasn't able to locate him.

“I can’t find him, Cap.”

Stanley looked puzzled, “Where could he have gone? Did you look outside?”

Marco shook his head. Hank walked to the back of the station. There in the parking lot, he found Chet leaning against his car, his head in his hands.

“Kelly, please tell me you have a garden variety headache. I don’t think I’m ready for another scene like that.”

Chet looked away, his eyes red. Hank looked surprised, “Are you okay?” Chet didn’t answer. “Kelly?” Cap questioned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s all my fault,” he whispered.

Hank Stanley sighed, “Kelly, it’s not your fault. You heard Roy. Morton said complications could arise after a head injury. You didn’t hit Gage in the head and you didn’t push him down that cliff. Come on, pal.”

Chet resisted, “I knew something was wrong. He wasn’t himself, you know. I should have known when he hit me.” Chet was becoming more agitated by the minute. “What did I do? I hung up the phone….I hung up the phone. Do I think to tell Roy…or you? No. I just hang up on him. Some friend!”

Hank leaned next to Chet on the car. “Chet, if you’re guilty for those reasons, then pal, we’re all guilty. We all saw Gage acting strange. None of us thought he was sick. Not even Roy. Not even the medical staff at Rampart. You can’t blame yourself for this one.”

Kelly was quiet. Stanley regarded him for a moment. “Come on. Let’s go put on some coffee. Roy will call when he can. I’m sure they’ll take good care of John at Rampart.”

Chet nodded and stood up. They started walking back into the station. Hank suddenly stopped and looked at Chet, “Gage hit you?"

Chet nodded "He didn't mean it, though, Cap.

"Well...hope he got in a good shot,” Stanley laughed, trying to lighten his anxiety.

Chet’s lips quirked, ‘Nah, it was a sucker punch.” He smiled at his captain, some of the tension relieved. But inside, he still felt responsible.

Dixie directed the men transporting John to Treatment Room 3. Both Brackett and Early were waiting to treat the critical paramedic. Quickly, they set about getting vitals, listening to Roy bring them up to date on Johnny’s condition.

“He’s been in and out in the ambulance. Increasingly disoriented. Complaining of severe head pain. His pupils are unequal. He’s getting kind of shocky.”

Early began giving orders for diagnostic tests that were needed to a nurse, while Brackett continued accessing John. "It's a good thing you found him when you did..." Brackett stated.

"Is it bad, Doc?" Roy asked, emotion welling up in his voice.

"Well, it doesn't look good. We’ll know more when we get the results of the labs Joe ordered, and do a CT scan," Brackett responded. Turning to the nurse he added, “Get a tox screen, too.”

"Come on Roy...Tom." Dix took Roy by the arm, attempting to lead him out of the treatment room.

"I'd rather stay, Dix," he said, not taking his eyes off of his partner.

"You heard Kel. They need to run some tests," Dix said, not unkindly. "We'll just be a few doors down. Johnny's in good hands. Come on. You too, Tom."

Reluctantly, Roy allowed Dixie to lead him down the hall, to the doctor's lounge, Dwyer right behind them.

Dixie poured each of the paramedics a cup of coffee, then poured one for herself. She sat down with them at the table. "Okay... spill it, Roy DeSoto." She knew Roy pretty well and it was apparent to her that he was on one of his usual guilt trips. It seemed that every time things didn't go right, 'according to Roy', the paramedic would end up blaming himself, whether he had any control over the situation or not.

He gave her a weak smile, "Oh you know..."

"Well, let me guess.....Johnny's condition is somehow all your fault," she surmised dramatically.

"Something like that," he mumbled, looking down at his coffee cup.

"I hate to tell you this, but every bad thing that happens to John Gage, or anyone else for that matter, cannot be blamed on YOU," Dixie informed him, sternly.

"Yeah, but I should have known better," he insisted. "I should have been able to..."

"To what? See into the future? Read his mind?"

"No Dix. I just should have seen the symptoms. I was too busy feeling angry with him to see what was right in front of me. "

"From what you've told us... and knowing your partner, I'd say some of those symptoms border his usual, unusual, personality," she told him, with a smile.

That brought a small chuckle from both of the worried men. "You know she's right, Roy," Dwyer added.

Roy looked up with a disheartened smile and nodded.

"Well, I better get back to work," stated Dixie. "As soon as we know anything, we'll let you know."

"Thanks Dix," said Tom.

"Yeah... thanks." Roy gave her the best reassuring smile that he could manage.

Joe and Kelly stood examining the CT scan result.

“There it is, Kel. Looks like some midline displacement. Definite subdural hematoma, sub-acute phase.”

“I’ll alert the O.R.,” said Brackett. Joe Early nodded and turned back to re-examine the CT results.

Roy and Tom looked up expectantly as the door opened. Dixie entered the room and sat at the table. Roy looked at her, nervously.

“Well, you sat down.” He sighed. “That can’t be a good sign.”

Dixie tried to smile before elaborating. “Kel and Joe have just taken John to surgery. He has a sub-acute subdural hematoma. They need to perform a craniotomy, to evacuate the blood clot.”

Tom Dwyer sighed and sat back. Roy looked down at his hands, a worried expression on his face. Dixie put her hands on top of his.

“Roy, he has an excellent chance of a full recovery. ”

Roy nodded, still upset. Dwyer said, “Roy, if you want, I’ll call the station.”

Roy looked up. “No thanks, Tom. I’ll call.” Dwyer nodded and Roy walked over to the phone and dialed the Station.

Mike Stoker answered the phone.

"Hi Mike, this is Roy. I need to talk to the Cap."

"Hey Roy...okay, hold on a sec. I'll get him." It must be bad...he doesn't sound right! He set the receiver down and hurried to find Captain Stanley.

"Cap...Roy's on the phone."

Captain Stanley walked into the kitchen, followed by Stoker, Kelly and Lopez. He picked up the receiver, "Roy?"

"Hi Cap."

"So what's the news, pal?" He could tell by his paramedic's tone, that it wasn't good.

"Well, he's on his way to surgery." Roy continued explaining the details of his partner's condition to the captain, and then finished by saying, "So...we won't know anything for awhile."

"You two are free to hang out there as long as you want, Roy." Hank offered. He had already allowed them stay available from Rampart earlier. "Just let us know as soon as you hear anything. We're all pulling for him."

"Yeah, I know, Cap. Thanks."

"Hey, try not to worry too much," Hank advised. That's like telling a fish not to swim. "I'm sure everything will turn out okay."

"Thanks, I'll talk to ya later." Roy hung the phone up and walked back over to pour himself another cup of coffee. The tones sounded from his H.T. "Squad 51...child trapped..."

Dwyer was thankful for something to do besides wait, Roy too, seemed relieved to have a task to get his mind off of Johnny for awhile. They were soon in the squad, speeding off to their destination, but their thoughts were still with John.

"I don't know how she got all the way up there," the mother told the paramedic's, worriedly. Located very high up in a tree, was a five-year old girl, clinging to a branch.

"Hey Tom, why don't you get an engine? We may need some help." Roy requested. "What's your daughters name?"

"Samantha...er...Sammie," the woman told Roy.

"Sammie..." Roy called up to the girl, "we're gonna come up there real soon and help you down. Okay?"

He could see the little girl nod her head. "She looks pretty scared, how long has she been up there?"

"I heard her yelling about tweny minutes ago; I called you right away," the woman said.

"Just hang on, Sammie," Roy shouted, trying to focus his complete attention on the rescue at hand.

It took approximately an hour to get the little girl safely down to her mother. The branches were not very sturdy at the height the girl had climbed and that made things a little more difficult. As soon as Roy and Dwyer made themselves available, they were called out again. "Station 51...motor vehicle accident..."

"This looks like a bad one," Tom remarked, as they pulled up to the scene. There were four cars involved, with victims trapped in two of them. Marco and Tom used the jaws to extricate one victim, while Roy performed CPR on another, to no avail. Roy and Tom both rode in with the critically injured man they had freed. Hopefully, he would survive. Roy could smell alcohol on the man and it made him feel ill. The others’ involved, with the exception of the fatality, had been uninjured. Chet followed them into the hospital in the squad and waited for Roy and Tom in the lounge.

It had been hours since they had left Rampart. Roy was hoping for news on Johnny. He and Tom went to join a very subdued Chet . All three continued waiting for news. Chet hoped they’d hear something before the Engine crew swung by to pick him up.

About fifteen minutes later, Dr. Early walked in, smiling. "He looks good, fellas."

Roy let out a huge sigh of relief. Dwyer slapped him on the shoulder, "See, I told you, Pally!" Tom said, purposely using the term he had heard Gage address his partner with frequently.

"He's not out of the woods yet though, boys." Early stated. "There are still complications that could arise. He's in the recovery room right now."

"How long until we can see him?" asked Roy.

"Well...they’ll be moving him into the ICU from recovery. I'll see what I can do about getting you in for a couple of minutes after that." Early smiled, putting a hand on Roy's shoulder.

“Thanks, Doc.”

After spending a sleepless night consumed with guilt, Chet had driven right to Rampart. He quietly entered the ICU room and watched John’s chest move up and down with each breath. He took in his friend’s pallor, the medical equipment attached to him…the bandages wrapped around his head. Johnny was still unconsciousness. Chet approached the bed and squeezed his friend’s hand. He whispered, “It shouldn’t have come to this.” His voice broke as he repeated, “It shouldn’t have come to this…”

“Chet?”

Chet jumped, turning around to find Roy looking at him. Obviously, Roy had raced here, also. Quickly, Chet let go of John’s hand and tried to gain control of his emotions. “I just had to…”

Roy nodded. He knew the affection that these two shared, even if they themselves wouldn’t admit to it. They both stood by Johnny’s bed.

Chet shook his head. “It shouldn’t have come to this!”

Roy nodded; still feeling pangs of guilt himself. Chet suddenly blurted, “I’m sorry, Roy. I should have said something. I should have known there was something wrong.”

Roy looked up surprised. Here I’m busy blaming himself and obviously Chet’s doing the same thing! He turned to Chet.

”It’s not your fault. I’m sorry we all jumped down your throat earlier. I guess I was so mad at myself for not seeing this that I took it out on you.”

Chet shook his head. “No, you were all right. I was to blame.”

Roy sighed. “Chet, we can all sit and blame ourselves! Hell, Johnny is as much to blame as anybody is. He should have told us how he was feeling. And who knows? I don’t even think he realized how bad he was. And if he didn’t see it, and I didn’t see it, how can you blame yourself? We all saw the same behavior you did. And we all thought it was just John’s latest mood.”

“Look Chet,” said Roy. “The important thing is that he’s going to be fine. It was a lousy accident, Chet. Just a …bad break. ”

Chet looked at John, once more. Then he mouthed softly, “Thanks, Roy.”

“We better get going. We’re only supposed to stay a minute.” Roy grinned. ” Besides, I think you may have to go home and think of a way for the Phantom to welcome John back to work. You’ll only have ..oh a few weeks!”

“…heard that,” said a voice softly. The two men looked down, surprised to see John squinting at them from his hospital bed. “Oooh, my head… wha ..happened.”

Roy smiled. “You had surgery to evacuate a blood clot from your brain. But you’re gonna be fine.”

“Hey Gage, “ Chet spoke softly. “I came by to pay Roy the five bucks I owe him. I bet him you didn’t have a brain in there!”

John grinned, then groaned. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Roy and Chet smiled.

“Get some sleep,” ordered Roy. John immediately closed his eyes. Roy turned to Chet. “Come on, we’ll get the nurse. “

Chet began to follow Roy. When he reached the door he stopped and turned, giving his sleeping friend another look. He smiled with relief as he allowed the door to close softly behind him.

“Morning all,“ John called out as he entered the locker room. This was his first shift back since the surgery.

“Hey Johnny,” Marco said.

“Welcome back, Gage,” added Mike.

“Hey partner, ‘bout time!” Roy smiled. “I couldn’t have handled another shift of Brice alphabetizing the drug box!”

“Well, there goes the nice peace and quiet we’ve had around here,” Chet said, as he slipped out of the locker room.

“Yeah, yeah, Chet!” answered John.

Kelly yelled in, “Great comeback, Gage. Glad some things haven’t changed.”

“Do you believe that guy?” voiced John to Roy as he opened his locker. Once again, the Phantom had beaten him into the station. John stood there soaking wet, his mouth hanging open. The other guys began to laugh.

“CHET!” shouted Johnny, storming out of the locker room.

Roy, Mike and Marco grinned at each other.

“Hopefully, some things will never change!” Roy uttered sincerely.

THE END