Self Defense

by Lisa Damiani

The soft voice of his wife, JoAnne, filtered through the thick fog of sleep shrouding Roy DeSoto’s brain. He felt her gently shaking his shoulder and let out a weary groan. He forced open one eye and peered at the bedside clock radio -- blurred numbers read: 2:17AM.

Roy let out another groan -- seemed he had only just collapsed into bed after working two consecutive shifts of what amounted to an never-ending string of emergency calls. Seven traffic accidents -- one with two fatalities. Half a dozen structure fires -- the handiwork of an angry 13 year old...the last of which had escalated into a full scale apartment blaze, resulting in multiple burn victims. The topper was a hit and run involving a little boy who’s resemblance to his own son Chris, served to unnerve Roy for the rest of his shift.

“Roy...wake up.”

“JoAnne...?” Roy croaked, turning over. “What’s wrong? One of the kids sick?”

“No...it’s the door. Somebody’s at the door,” JoAnne responded.

He heard it only after she had drawn his attention to it -- the persistent ringing of their front doorbell.

“Hell...what kind of maniac decides to drop by for a visit in the middle of the night!” Roy growled, tossing back covers and climbing out of his nice warm bed.

“None of MY friends....” JoAnne commented dryly, pulling on her robe.

“Well, whoever it is...is soon gonna be an EX-friend!” Roy grumbled, flipping on the bedroom light; squinting against the harsh yellow-white glare. Rounding from his side of the bed, he yanked open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. As he padded along the thick carpeting, heading toward the living room, their mystery visitor began to press steadily on the buzzer. A moment later, urgent knocks also filled the night time silence.

“I’m comin’!” Roy called out angrily.

“Roy...hush! You’ll wake the children.” JoAnne admonished, following behind her husband.

“JoAnne....nothing wakes our kids...they’ve slept through two major earthquakes...!” Roy snapped, just as six-year-old Jennifer, wandered out from her bedroom, rubbing at her eyes and whining over her disrupted sleep.

“You were saying...?” JoAnne quipped, as she scooped up her crying daughter.

“Sorry.” Roy mumbled sheepishly, continuing on to answer the door as his wife carried Jennifer back into her bedroom.

Once in the entryway, he flipped on the porch light and peered through the “peep hole”. His eyes widened in surprise.

“What the hell...?” He quickly unlocked the door and yanked it open.

“Can I help you, Officer?”

“Roy DeSoto?” Questioned the tall, lean LAPD Officer.

“Yes...” Roy pushed open the screen door. “Come in....please...”

The Officer, whose name tag read, “Simons”, stepped into the entryway. “Are you acquainted with--” the man paused to glance down at a small notation pad he held in his right hand. “...with a...John Gage?”

Roy drew in a sharp breath, then swallowed hard...nodding slowly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his throat tight with fear. “What’s happened to Johnny?”

“Roy...?” He turned to his wife as JoAnne joined them. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she questioned, looking anxiously from Roy to the Police Officer.

“I’m not sure...something about Johnny...” Roy responded, reaching out to take her hand.

“Johnny...?” They both turned questioning eyes toward Simons, waiting...dreading what news was to follow.

“I’ve been asked to inform you that Mr. Gage has been involved in a shooting incident.” The officer spoke quietly, calmly.

“Shooting!” Roy echoed.

“Oh-my-god...! Johnny!” JoAnne cried out, tears springing into her eyes. “How badly was he hurt?”

The officer took a step inside the house and removed his hat. "Ah, sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to be vague. Mr. Gage is not injured. He's in custody. The charges are murder and attempted murder...so far!"

"What!" Roy shot a piercing glance at the officer. "What do you mean in custody? Johnny wouldn't hurt a fly. He's a paramedic for Christ's sake. He saves lives, not takes them." Roy shook his head vigorously as if to shake the news out. Joanne continued to stare at her husband trying not to believe any of this was really happening.

Simons continued, "Either way, Mr. DeSoto, we have him under lock and key in the county jail. I am here tonight to ask you some questions about Mr. Gage. We are not quite sure of all the facts and some background into his habits may give us some clues."

Officer Simons continued, "You work with the suspect. Is that correct?"

"Johnny's my partner." Roy said, putting emphasis on the word Johnny, not liking the tone in Simons’ voice as he said the word suspect. "And I still don't believe for one minute that he could have done anything worth all this."

"I'm afraid murder is quite serious, sir, and 'all this' is just the beginning." Simons was not trying to be intimidating but by the same token, he was not going to let down his guard either.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Joanne managed to spit out between sobs.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I am not at liberty to discuss the incident at this time," Simons said with authority, and continued his interrogation. "Mr. Desoto, when was the last time you saw Mr. Gage?"

Roy shifted where he was standing. He was trying to think back to be as accurate as possible. "Well, our shift was supposed to end at 7am today but we had a call just before the shift change and wound up staying out all morning. I guess we left the station around noon."

Officer Simons continued to jot down notes in his little black notebook. He asked, "Did Mr. Gage mention to you if he had any plans after work?"

"Look, I don't know what Johnny does in his spare time. I'm not his keeper!" Roy said, his agitation growing.

Simons didn't miss a beat, "Has Mr. Gage seemed to you to be upset recently?"

"No," Roy replied.

"Has he been accepting more phone calls than usual at the station?" Simons asked.

"No," answered Roy.

"While at work, are there any times when Mr. Gage is out of your sight? Is it possible he could have contacted someone with out you knowing?" Simons asked.

Roy had now reached his boiling point. He yelled, "What kind of questions are these? You are wasting valuable time. I may not know where Johnny was off to after work but I can tell you this much: I spend about 56 hours on duty a week with the guy and I know for a fact, he would never kill anybody. Instead of standing in my doorway in the middle of the night asking me stupid questions, you should be out there trying to find the REAL murderer."

Simons began to crack his stern demeanor. "Look, Mr. DeSoto. I am sorry if my questions are upsetting you. Please be sure they are relevant and I am trying to help your friend. How about if I let you get some rest. Please call me at the station if you remember something you'd like to tell me. Anything, no matter how insignificant it may seem, may help." With that, Simons handed Roy the number to his station and left.

Roy slammed the door and looked at Joanne. For the last 10 minutes all she was able to do was stand there, mouth open, and listen to the exchange between her husband and the officer. She slumped down into the couch and said, "Roy, I don't know what Johnny's gotten himself into, but we've got to help him. I know there's been a terrible mistake. What can we do?"

"We start by finding out what REALLY happened. Look, you stay with the kids. I'm going to the police station. Maybe they'll let me talk to Johnny." Roy headed upstairs to get dressed.

*******

Johnny sat on the top bunk of his cell. His once white polo shirt was now soaked in blood. He wished the cops would have let him back to his apartment to change. He put his head in his hands and was wondering to himself just how the hell he got into this predicament. Just then, he heard the clanging and footsteps of someone walking towards his cell.

A very tall and heavyset man escorted by a guard stopped in front of the cell door. The "prisoner" was wearing a ripped up muscle shirt and a torn pair of jeans. He had numerous tattoos and an unkempt beard. He was also missing several of his teeth. He had multiple cuts and abbrations to his arms, head and face and a gash down the side of his waist which appeared to be bleeding badly. He held a towel to his side trying to clot the blood. He also appeared to be limping.

The guard spoke to him as he fished for the keys to the cell. "O.K., Butch, this is the last time I'm going to ask you. Do you want me to take you to the infirmary or do you want to cool your heels in here? After the chase and fight you gave our men tonight, I'm only going to offer this once."

Butch just stared intently on Gage at first ignoring the guards question.Then he snarled, "I don't want any of you pigs touching me!"

"O.K., have it your way. Just don't come crying to me when your boo-boo's hurt in the middle of the night." The guard opened the cell door and shoved Butch inside.

Up until now, Johnny had been alone, and he was not very excited about getting a roommate, especially Butch. After the guard was out of earshot, Butch spoke to Johnny in an all business tone, "You're in my bunk!"

Johnny immediately jumped down from the bed. "It's all yours!" he said quickly and hurried towards the opposite side of the cell. Butch made his way towards the bunk and with much effort, heaved himself on top. It was obvious to John that the man was in pain and having trouble breathing.

The paramedic in Johnny instinctively took over. "Hey, man, are you O.K.?" he asked. As soon as the words left his mouth Johnny was sorry he had said anything.

Butch shot Johnny a look of daggers and said, "Shut up!"

Johnny shifted his weight from foot to foot trying to decide if he wanted to pursue the conversation. "Look, ah...Butch, I'm a paramedic. Why don't you let me check you out?" Johnny swallowed hard as Butch shot him another dirty look.

"Leave me alone or you'll be hurting worse than me!" he barked.

Just then, more footsteps resounded through the hall. Another guard stopped in front of Johhny's cell and spoke, "John Gage?"

"Right here," Johnny replied.

"You have a visitor, Mr. Gage." The guard said as he unlocked the holding cell. Johnny followed the man through the corridors and stopped in front of a door to a small room. "No funny stuff." The guard said as he opened the door for Johnny and gestured for him to walk inside.

Johnny stepped through the door and was overwhelmed to see Roy sitting in a chair near a table. At Johnny's entrance, Roy sprang up. Roy couldn't help but see Johnny's blood soaked shirt.

"Oh, my God-Johhny! Are you O.K.?" Roy cried.

"I'm fine, Roy," Johnny said as he looked down at his shirt. Then he explained more somberly, "It's not my blood." Johnny shook his head and just stared at Roy making sure his friend was really standing before him and not the latest hallucination in this nightmare. "Oh, man, am I glad to see you!" Johnny reached out and hugged Roy tightly. He needed some contact from a friend right now and Roy fit the bill perfectly.

"Johnny," Roy said as the two disengaged, "What the hell is going on? Please tell me this is all a big mistake!"

A look of utter depression came over John's features. He slumped into the chair by the table. "Roy, I'm in big trouble. I think I'm going to hang for this one!"

Roy took the seat opposite Johnny. "What happened?"

Johnny took a deep breath. "Well, Roy, after our shift I went home and showered. I was supposed to be meeting Cheryl for dinner tonight. I called her around 4:30 to see if we were still on. Well, as it turned out, Cheryl was real sick and had to cancel. It was such a beautiful night that I just couldn't stay couped up inside. So I decided to play Florence Nightingale. I whipped up a batch of home made chicken soup and I was going to walk it over to Cheryl's house." Johnny almost smiled to himself at the thought. He looked up at Roy with a 'pattened' John Gage crooked smile. "I figured she'd really dig me after a chicken soup delivery. Chicks love that kind of stuff, ya know?" Johnny paused slightly and then continued his story.

"Anyway, when I got to Cheryl's house, about 7:30, I noticed that all the lights were out and her car wasn't in the driveway. I guess she had somewhere better to be than out with me. Roy, she lied to me." Hurt was evident in Johnny's voice. "I really liked her too. I thought we might have had something....Anyway, I was really upset, y'know? So I think I threw the soup and I just stormed off. I needed to just walk and collect my thoughts."

He took a breath and continued, "So I just began to wander aimlessly through the streets. I happened across this restaurant on Sepulveda. You know the one with the big open bay window. Well I don't know why, but I peered inside. And there at a table was Cheryl and some guy having dinner. I don't know, I guess I just snapped. I stormed into the restaurant and in front of everyone made a huge scene with Cheryl. I was yelling, 'How sick are you now? What wonder drug did you take tonight?' and things like that. Then the man she was with stood up to me. I didn't really have a beef with him, I was mad at Cheryl. So I just kinda shoved him back into his seat saying something like, shut up, I'll deal with you later! Then the manager came over. He suggested we take our argument outside. So this guy that Cheryl was with threw some money on the table and we all proceeded outside."

Roy just sat and listened intently as John's story unfolded.

"Well, once we were outside, we went behind the restaurant to some alley. Cheryl was saying to me, 'Johnny, you shouldn't have come here, it's not what you think' and things like that. I was still mad so I just kept shouting back things that probably weren't even making sense at the time. All of a sudden, this guy pulls out a gun! He said, 'Listen to the lady, John. You should never have come here. She's with me! Always has been. And I don't like competition!' Then he aimed the gun at me! Roy, I was scared. What was I supposed to do? So I lunged at him. We struggled for a couple of minutes. The gun went off but neither one of us was hit so we continued the struggle.

“ Then, I don't know how, but I managed to pivot the gun till it was facing him. I can't be sure if I pressed the trigger or he did. All I know is, it went off again and this time he fell. Hard! Immediately I turned over his body and accessed that the bullet had entered his chest with no exit wound. There was a lot of bleeding and I knew he wasn't going to last much longer. I yelled out for Cheryl to call 911 but she didn't answer. I turned around to face her and was shocked to find her lying on the ground. The first bullet hit her Roy! She was just standing there and IT HIT HER!!"

Johnny began to cry as he remembered the details of that night's events. Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Please, John, continue. I know it's hard, but if I'm going to help you, I need to know the rest."

Johnny wiped his nose on his sleeve and tried to regain his composure. "Well, as soon as I saw Cheryl, I tried to help her. She was in bad shape. Her stomach was bleeding real bad. I tried to stop it. I applied pressure using my jacket to stop the bleeding. By now, other patrons had started out of the restaurant. There was some screaming and I think that's when I yelled again for someone to call the rescue squad and the police.

"By the time the squad arrived, Cheryl had stopped breathing and I was administering rescue breaths in between trying to stop the bleeding. Hal and Mike from 42's arrived finally and took over. The last I saw of her, they were loading her up into the ambulance. I just sat there, paralyzed. Next thing I knew, the cops were there slapping handcuffs on me and throwing me into the patrol car."

Johnny looked up at Roy. "Roy, the man died. What if Cheryl dies too? It's possible I am responsible. I can't live with that. Maybe I deserve to fry over this!" Johnny said with grief and guilt laced in his voice. He cried uncontrollably.

Roy sat there trying to find the words that would help Johnny deal with what had happened. Unfortunetly, Roy was not certain what he could say in a time like this. He put his hands on Johnny's shoulders and shook him gently. Johnny looked up at Roy, his eye's bloodshot and streaming with tears.

Roy said softly, but sternly, "John, you have to believe me when I tell you this wasn't your fault. That man was out to hurt someone. He was probably going to hurt Cheryl. You can't let yourself believe that you caused any of this to happen. There was going to be an incident even had you not shown up.Only this time, instead of Cheryl in the hospital, she may be dead. At least she has a fighting chance. They can't charge you for murder, Johnny. It is an obvious case of self defense. Don't beat yourself up about this. He's not worth it."

"And what about Cheryl? Isn't SHE worth it?" Johnny retorted with venom in his voice. "Roy, if she dies, it will be my fault and nothing you can say will lead me to change that belief. So stop trying to exonerate me. I deserve to be here. I deserve whatever they throw at me."

"Johnny, calm down. you are being irrational. Under the circumstances, I can't say I blame you. Right now you need to get some rest and tomorrow reevaluate what happened with a clear head. You're too emotional right now. You can't think straight." Roy said trying to sooth Johnny.

But Johnny's temper did not die down. Instead, it grew. "Roy, you just don't get it, do you?" he yelled. "I KILLED A MAN, MAYBE EVEN CHERYL TOO!"

"Johnny, you said it yourself, he may have pulled the trigger, not you, remember?" Roy said.

"Stop splitting hairs with me Roy. I was there, not you," John answered.

The argument stopped suddenly when the door to the small conference room opened. The same guard who led Johnny from his cell entered. "Time's up, Mr. Gage," was all he said.

Johnny gave one last look at Roy and followed the guard out of the room.

******

After John left, Roy slumped into the chair by the table. He could not believe all this was happening to his best friend. But worse yet, he could not believe Johnny's self destructive attitude about taking the fall. Johnny was always too sensitive. Unfortunetly, that sensitivity was about to get him locked up with no parole.

Finally, Roy was able to move again. He got up from the chair and wandered out into the hallway. He was somewhat surprised yet relieved to see a friendly face in the corridor. Vince Howard was standing in front of the soda machine trying to get a wrinkled old dollar bill to come through with a Cola. The machine continuously rejected it's pleas.

"Need a loan, Vince," Roy said as he snuck up behind him and handed Vince a crisp one dollar bill.

"Hey, Roy! Yeah, I guess I can use a little help. Trade you," Vince said, as he exchanged his dollar for Roy's.

"What are you doing here at this hour Vince?" Roy asked.

"I'm pulling a little OT." Vince paused then continued, "I wish I didn't know why you are here but I heard about Johnny. I should have expected to see you tonight."

"Vince, can you tell me anything about this case? Johnny's blaming himself and if he's not careful, he's going to get himself sent to the Big House."

Vince grabbed Roy by the arm and led him down the hallway. They stopped in front of a small lounge where Vince motioned for Roy to sit down. "Look, Roy, I'm really not supposed to divulge any information, but I'm going to make an exception in this case because I know Johnny's like a brother to you and this has to be killing you inside. But please don't break this confidence."

Roy stared at Vince with eyes that wanted to know more. He remained silent but nodded his head in agreement.

"Johnny's in a bad way. We have several witnesses from the restaurant swearing that Johnny stormed into the eatery with intent to kill. They said the look in his eye's was that of shear rage. He was also heard making verbal threats to Mr. Harrison and his ex-wife, Cheryl. The conclusion thus far is that Johnny caught his girlfriend cheating on him and took matters into his own hands. They are speculating that he went to that restaurant with the idea to kill Mr. Harrison. Somehow Cheryl got mixed up in the crossfire. Bad case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Roy was appalled and his face could not hide the shock. "You can't honestly believe that, Vince? You know Johnny for God's sake! You know he could never hurt anyone like that."

Vince quickly threw his hands up in defense. "Of coarse I don't believe it, Roy. What kind of guy do you take me for?" Vince sounded insulted.

Roy immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Vince. I'm having a real hard time here...I didn't mean to insinuate that you...."

Vince put his hand on Roy's arm. "Don't even think about it, Roy, I know it's hard on you. But you haven't heard the worst part yet." Worry grew on Roy's face. "There's more?" he asked.

"Remember that self destructive attitude you mentioned earlier? Well, John has taken it to a new level. He is not accepting legal counsel. He's representing himself. In a case like this- and in his current frame of mind- he doesn't stand a chance. The prosecution will eat him alive. Roy, you got to talk some sense into him. You have to get him to accept help. This could go sour real fast if he doesn't start looking out for himself," Vince concluded.

"Vince, I'll see what I can do. But unfortunetly, you know how stubborn Johnny can be when he get's something stuck in his head," Roy admitted hopelessly.

"Do what you can, Roy," Vince finished as he got up from the table. I got to get back to work. You take care, O.K.?"

"Yeah, Vince, I'll try but I'm not promising," Roy conceded.

******

Johnny walked back into his cell. He cringed as he heard the bars lock behind him. Hearing the sounds of labored breathing, Johnny looked up and confirmed that Butch was still a reality. "When will this nightmare end?" he thought to himself as he laid down on the bottom bunk.

Johnny stared up into the underside of the bunk above him. He was exhausted but he just couldn't rest. His mind raced as he replayed the events of the horrible night again in his mind. "It's my fault," he repeated to himself over and over again.

Two hours had gone by and John was no closer to rest than he had been earlier. Somewhere, his mind registered the monotonous background sounds of Butch's breathing had changed. No, not changed....Stopped.

Instinctively, Johnny sprung out from his bunk and hoisted himself onto the top bunk. He positioned himself to the side of Butch carefully trying not to move him. Fortunetly, John was thin enough to accommodate the small space. He quickly checked for a pulse. He was unable to find one. John had surmised that Butch had received a punctured lung from his brawl with the police and after hours of ignoring medical treatment, it finally gave out. But the real problem was the fact that his side was still bleeding profusely. That steady loss of blood was going to be the deciding factor.

He yelled out at the top of his lungs, "Guard...Guard! Somebody! Get a doctor in here!...Now!" Johnny was already performing one man CPR.

After what seemed like for ever, a guard finally made his way up to the cell. After seeing the commotion inside he feverishly searched for his keys. "What the hell is going on in here, Gage? Two murders tonight wasn't good enough for you?" the guard yelled at John in mock disgust.

John was immensely irritated with the guard's last remark but was trying not to lose his rhythm with the CPR. He quickly replied, "This man is dying, he needs medical attention now!"

The guard spoke into his walkie talkie and several minutes later a gurney, equipment and a docor arrived to attend to Butch. After 10 minutes, the doctor was able to get the bleeding to stop. While he attended to that, Johnny told the doctor he was a paramedic and volunteered to help. The doctor was relieved and accepted the help graciously. Even if John was lying, he couldn't do any more harm to Butch than was already done. However, after seeing the professional way in which Johnny followed the doctors orders, he knew right away Johnny was what he had claimed to be. He pumped a shot of adrenaline directly into Butch's heart and after administering several more drugs and defiberlating twice, Johnny somehow managed to get a pulse.

Two officers loaded Butch onto the gurney and began to wheel him out of the cell. Just as the doctor was ready to leave, he turned in his tracks almost as an after thought. "Good job, young man. You just saved his life," the doctor announced.

With that, everyone left the cell leaving Johnny alone again with his self tortured thoughts. Somehow, saving one life still did not amend for the life he took earlier.

******

Bright and early the next morning, Roy lay in bed. It was 7 am and he hadn't slept all night. He was up worried about his partner and was feeling useless because he hadn't figured out a way to help Johnny yet. Running low on ideas, he decided he needed to talk to another witness. He dressed quickly and made his way down to Rampart.

As Roy approached the nurses station, he was relieved to find Nurse Dixie McCall at her post. "Thank God," he thought to himself. "Visiting hours aren't for another 2 hours but maybe Dix will let me slide."

"Good Morning, Dix," Roy said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"Your morning doesn't look so good, Roy. You look awful. Did you sleep at all last night?" Dixie asked with concern.

"Would you if you were in my place?" Roy asked.

By now, news about Johnny was all over L.A. Dixie knew what Roy was going through. "I guess not," she admitted.

"How is Cheryl, Dix? Is she going to make it?" Roy asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"It was touch and go for a while there, Roy. But the good news is she survived the night and was conscious this morning. The doctors said that was her biggest hurdle. They predict a full recovery." Dixie was happy to report.

"Can I talk to her, Dix? I have to hear her side if I'm going to help Johnny," Roy almost pleaded with Dix.

Dixie's eye's would not meet Roy's. "You're too late, Roy. Vince was already here this morning and got a statement. I don't know what she said, but Vince was outta here in a hurry."

That last piece of information set Roy running out the door. "Thanks, Dix," he called back over his shoulder.

******

Roy drove so fast down to the police station that his car's tires hardly touched the tar on the street. Roy burst through the doors of the police station and ran straight for the desk clerk. "I need to talk to John Gage," he said.

The desk clerk eyed him up for a moment and then spoke. "You're too late. He's been released."

Before the clerk had finished his statement, Roy was already back out the door. He had a feeling he knew where to find Johnny.

Unfortunetly, the return trip to Rampart was hindered by an accident on the freeway. After half an hour, Roy finally made it to Rampart. He ran up to the nurses station where Dixie was still perched.

Before he could even get the words out, Dixie beat him to the punch, "Room 403," she said, anticipating Roy's question.

Roy smiled and hurried to the elevator.

******

Roy knocked on the hospital room door. "Come in," came a man's reply. Roy stepped through to see John Gage sitting on the bed next to Cheryl.

Thankfully he was wearing a blue L.A. County Police Dept. Tee shirt instead of the blood soaked polo of the night before.

"Hey partner, hi Cheryl," he said.

"Roy," came Johnny's reply. "Good to see you."

"How are you feeling, Cheryl?" Roy asked.

"I'll be O.K." Cheryl rasped. She was obviously drained.

Johnny got up from the bed. "Well sweetheart, I'm going to leave you for now so you can get some rest. I'll check in on you again in a little while." Cheryl nodded and then drifted off to sleep.

Roy and Johnny left the room and went to get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria.

"Well, what happened?" Roy asked not being able to hold his patience any longer.

Johnny sipped his coffee and began the explanation, "Apparently, Cheryl's ex-husband, Dan, showed up at her doorstep. He wanted to talk to her about getting back together. He wanted to discuss it over dinner. Then the phone rang, it was me. Cheryl figured she would have dinner with him and end it once and for all. That's why she lied to me. Thought what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

"But as the evening went on, she became more and more terrified of the man. She said it seemed as though something had finally snapped inside him. Cheryl was positive that the reason he had a gun was to insure if he could not have her, no one else would."

"She told the police about the struggle and what Dan had said before he pulled the gun. She also told them that she was hit by accident when the gun went off. Fortunetly, she was still conscious to see me and Dan still struggling when the gun went off a second time. Cheryl isn't pressing charges against me and has sworn on my behalf that the Dan was shot either by me or himself in an act of self defense on my part."

Johnny sat back in his chair and sighed as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was finally waking up from his nightmare.

Roy also sighed feeling a similar weight lift from his shoulders as well. Johnny looked at his partner with true friendship in his eyes.

"Roy.....thanks," he said sincerely.

"For what?" Roy asked.

"For believing in me and being there for me even if I was choosing not to listen to you." Johnny paused and then continued, "I needed Cheryl to tell me that she didn't blame me for what happened. But I was convinced I was never going to see her again....." Johnny's voice trailed off as his voice began to quiver.

Sensing Johnny was about to become overwhelmed, Roy decided to let things sink in for a while. "It's O.K. partner," he said. "Everything's going to be all right. Why don't you let me take you home so you can shower and get some rest. We can talk about it later if you'd like." Then he stood up from the table.

Johnny stood up also but did not make a move for the door. Instead he extended his right hand out in front of Roy.

Roy shook Johnny's proffered hand. As Johnny shook Roy's hand he pulled him close and embraced Roy with his left arm. "I mean it." he said, his voice bearly audible.

The two men separated. Roy looked into Johnny's eyes and gave him a 'you're welcome' smile.

The best friends headed out the door.

"Self Defense" ©1999 Lisa Damiani. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

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