"You *have* crossed... but you're not where you think you are. You are in between."

"Huh? Between what?" Johnny asks incredulously.

"Here and there," Horgas gestures, in explanation, toward the sky and the ground and to all areas around him.

"Why?" Johnny wonders aloud.

"You have issues you need to come to terms with and, when you do, then you will know where it is you should be going," Horgas notes.

"And what issues do they happen to be?" asks Johnny, confused.

"The fire at the strip mall. You made decisions that you are questioning... right or wrong? Until you answer that, you can't go on with the path of your life."

“Marty, where are we?” Johnny repeats the question, but Horgas doesn't seem to notice or (Johnny contemplates), doesn't seem to care. Horgas clutches Johnny's left elbow.

“Gage, I thought I heard some voices from over there”, Horgas points to the right.

“Don't go that…” Johnny begins but trails off.

“Johnny, I gotta go check it out."

“No! Its not safe… don't use that corridor!” Johnny argues.

Horgas turns and looks Johnny squarely in the face. “Johnny, you have to let me go!” He then turns, takes two steps and disappears into the wall... while Johnny watches in stunned silence.

As quickly as it had started the inferno ends. Johnny finds himself sifting through the watery remains of a fire. Cascades now run through the building, down the inside of the walls and leak through the floorboards. A broken skylight above his head allows the moon to cast an unnatural blue light on Johnny's face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His dream slowly faded and a new sensation began to fill Johnny's mind. Pain, strong pain from left the side of his head. Johnny's instincts were coming back but he still felt strange. As he slowly unfolded his body and stood up, he saw Harry. The con stared at Johnny down the barrel of his gun, for the second time that evening, and with a cool precision, studied him.

“You're the hero type, ain't ya!” Harry sneered. “Are you seriously trying to help this chick? Do you even know her last name?”

Johnny attempted to speak but the strong pain cut deeply and his hand caught small drops of blood falling from his ear.

“What's the problem… got a bump on your head?” Harry taunted. As the two men stood face to face, Harry considered a certain respect for Johnny and he could feel the cocktail of adrenaline and drugs pumping through his veins. “Wow… what a rush!” Harry felt on top again.

“What do you want?” Johnny started.

“What do I want?” Harry laughed. “I want a house in the Bahamas… but right now I have some business to take care of."

As Harry's next move assembled in his mind, a rye smile came over his face. 'This Johnny guy is tough, tougher than most… and he's gone the distance for this chick. But what's he got... and what's it got him?”

'Oh man, I how'd I get into this?' wondered Johnny from his position. 'Roy, Marty, man somebody help me.' Horgas appeared in Johnny's periphery for a brief moment and nodded before vanishing from sight again. Johnny shook his head, half to clear his vision and half to check his immediate environment.

"Whatcha doin' there skinny man?" sneered the criminal as he poked the injured man with the butt of his gun.

Johnny fought to keep aware of his surroundings, he needed to think. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of another violent act. 'I've just had enough,' he though to himself.

"I'm talking to you junior!" continued Harry, poking the 'vacationer' harder with his weapon.

Junior, he called me junior!' The memories flooded back to Johnny at a painful rate. The fire, the guys, Bonnie... it was all too much. His anger rose to beyond what he could control. Then, with surprising agility, Johnny kicked Harry from the ground and quickly got to his feet to tackle the confused man.

"You're not too strong now, are you pal? You aren't holding all the cards now, are you man? You aren't the main man when you're on the ground, now, are you friend?" growled Johnny through gritted teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first it seemed like more of the dream, the disembodied female voice calling frantically from behind him. "Johnny! Johnny, I can't stop the bleeding. It just... I... I don't know what to do!" The California paramedic squinted in confusion and turned to locate the panicking speaker. He got a dim and blurry look at a blonde woman kneeling over a prone man in a uniform. Bonnie... and... maybe a deputy. The lawman must have deciphered the high-beamed SOS at the last moment, turned around in time to see the rollover...

And Harry shot him as he stepped out of his vehicle.

It had been a chore for the injured vacationer to puzzle this out with one whole hemisphere of his head aching deeply in a distantly fuzzy kind of way. Thought and will and pain and nausea struggled for domination, and it left the man dangerously vulnerable. With the teetering Samaritan's back turned, Harry saw his chance and reached for his gun a scant few inches away.

Johnny's entire body jerked and he nearly blacked out when the gun went off.

The deputy's gun... in the hand of the blonde hitchhiker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was just beginning to show signs of brightening when the phone rang. It was a couple of hours before the end of A-shift and the sun was still sleeping, but the senior paramedic of the crew was not. He knew it was about his partner. He knew it was bad news.

And he felt sick inside.

Roy DeSoto was wide awake but Hank Stanley was closer to the day room and the phone. Quickly shaking off the cloak of slumber as he hurried out of the dorm, he picked up the receiver on the 3rd ring. "This is Captain Stanley of the Los Angeles County Fire Department... and you..."

There was a long pause as the veteran's eyes sharpened and became unblinking. They slid up to the doorway where Roy was lingering in manifest denial.

"Yes, he's one of my paramedics," Hank said and his other paramedic began to deflate like a punctured tire. "I take it something's happened."

"Cap," whispered Roy as he watched him gently place the phone back in its cradle and look at the floor. all of Hank Stanley's energy seem to drain out of him and escape through his feet. He visibly slumped against the wall and paled.

"Roy, something's happened to John. Go, get yourself to Graham County, Arizona. It sounds bad."

Roy felt his feet were firmly glued to the floor, he needed more detail, but was also afraid to obtain it. Wordlessly he started to turn to go to the locker room when his Captain's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Roy... wait... Since we can't all go down with you, I want you to call Cael and tell him what's going on. He can go with you."

"OK... But what happened to Johnny, Cap?"

The wrinkles around the older man's eyes seemed to get a little deeper. "Johnny's been hurt... but I'm afraid the details are somewhat sketchy. So, basically, the sooner you can get down there and find out what happened, the better it will be for all of us."

The fearful paramedic couldn't help but sigh. "Yeah, I guess your right. I just hope I can track Cael down. He's a floater."

"I'll call HQ and tell them it's urgent that you get a'hold of him."

"OK Cap," Roy said walking past Chet's bed. The diminutive firefighter looked up at the paramedic and friend.

"I wish we could go with you Roy."

"So do I Chet. But soon as I find out all the details, I'll call you and let you all know."

Chet nodded. "Tell him I said 'hey'."

"I will," Roy agreed as he walked into the locker-room and opened his locker door. Looking up at the ceiling he made a quiet wish. "Don't let this be bad."

It's wasn't long before the men of Station 51 were up and gathering in the kitchen.

"What did JoAnne say?" the normally quiet engineer asked as he test-drove the coffee pot. The sun still could not be seen over the rooftops, but the deep green-blue of dawn was yielding to the light of day and the crew had too much on their minds to sleep.

Roy blinked, suddenly realizing he'd been operating on auto-pilot. The numb yet jittery paramedic had called Cael's apartment as soon as Cap had gotten off the phone with HQ. After about 8 rings, the very sleepy hose hauler finally answered. Of course, other than Cael's suggestion that they meet at the DeSoto household, Roy remembered about as much of that conversation as he did the one he'd just had with his wife.

"She's worried," he said with something of a shrug. "Wish I had something more concrete to tell her."

His words seem to hang in the air and echo mockingly. Something more concrete could easily be unthinkable... unbearable. Johnny had a head injury, and that opened up the very real possibility that his condition could deteriorate rapidly and without notice. Beyond that, the Graham County General Hospital had not been able to provide much more in the way of information than the firemen had originally gotten from the Sheriff's Department. Accident victim. Rendered unconscious. Tests indicate no need for surgery... But hours had elapsed with the patient... Johnny... showing no sign of coming-to.

Autopilot memories were foggy, snapshot memories. Station 51's senior, A-shift paramedic had the vaguest recollection of Chester B. handing him his own coffee mug while the crew waited for Roy's replacement to arrive. There was another snapshot with Dwyer pressing some handwritten driving instructions with an accompanying map into his hand.

Like turning the page of a flood-damaged scrapbook, there was JoAnne, standing at the door in a ponytail and sweats, practically dropping the small suitcase she'd packed for her husband as she rushed to throw her arms around him.

Now, in what felt like the blink of an eye, with the hum of the highway droning in the background, Roy heard Cael ask if maybe *he* (Cael) should drive... for the third time. Or was it the fourth? And Roy wasn't sure, but he thought they had only just crossed the state line.

"Roy...ROY!" shouted Cael after five calls to his friend went unanswered. "Roy, come on, listen to me." the young man urged, finally getting a weak reaction when Roy looked at him with utter confusion on his face.

"Cael, what is it? I'm trying to drive!" responded Roy, a little too anxiously.

"Roy, listen man. Let me drive. Your mind is not on the road, and there's no point in getting us killed before we get there." Cael instantly regretted those words. As soon as they left his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

Roy reacted by slowing the car down and hanging his head. "I just want to know how this happened. I want to get there and find out what the hell happened... I just... need to feel like I'm doing something, I feel so useless right now!"

"Roy, I'm sorry about all of this. You know I am... And I wanna get there too."

"Yeah," conceded Roy as he tossed the keys to Cael to drive a bit. He needed time to think some more and if this would allow for that, then he was willing.

They were barely under way when Cael darted a glance at the man beside him. "Gage off?" he asked.

It was a bewildering question and Roy's hackles started to rise. "What?" the new co-pilot barked with a scowl. "What the heck..."

The young firefighter flinched in confusion at the older man's reaction, but he quickly realized the miss-cue. "The gas gauge. Looks like we're running in the red zone here. I was wondering..."

Roy titled his head back and let out a self-disgusted sigh. "Cael, I'm sorry," he interrupted. "I thought... aw, I don't even know what I thought."

"Yeah, I know. No sweat," the big kid behind the wheel shrugged. Trying to lighten the mood he added, "Well, not unless we have to get out and push anyway." Roy made an effort to smile but said nothing.

"Looks like we're in luck," Cael announced a little too loudly as he tried to break what felt like an awkward silence. "I think that's an exit up ahead." Not another word was spoken until they pulled into a gas station.

"Fill 'er up, would ya?" Roy requested a little hesitantly, handing his companion a 10-spot. "I'm gonna find a phone."

While Roy went to find a phone to call the hospital to see how Johnny was doing, Cael went ahead and filled the car up with gas. Cael's friend weighed heavily on his mind. Thoughts of 'if only this' or 'if only that' ran around, in his head, like dog chasing a bone. If only he had been able to go with Johnny, then maybe things would be different. The young firefighter was lost in thoughts of what he Johnny did in the past. Of chasing the same nurse or risking their lives for each other when they were on the same shift. He knew Johnny and Roy had a special friendship that couldn't be duplicated and he never wanted to intrude on that. Still, Gage always made him feel like one of the guys.

Granted, Cael was a little younger but he seemed to be just like a younger version of Johnny. The risk taker, putting his life on the line. As he continued to think of his friend, he was tapped on the shoulder bringing him back to the present. He looked up and saw Roy take the gas nozzle from him and replace it in the pump.

"What did you do that for?" he asked. Roy pointed to the gas puddle that was under the car and all over the ground prompting Cael to smile in embarrassment. "Ooops, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. We both have a lot on our minds right now," Roy reassured before walking over to the driver's side door.

"Yeah we do," agreed Cael. "Ahhh what the hospital say?"

Roy stared at his hands on the steering wheel. "He's holding on. But his pressure's dropping." Then turning to face his youthful companion, he saw the fear in Cael's eyes. "So we better get back on the road."

Cael had nowhere to look but up to the sky. Quietly, to himself, he essentially prayed, "Hold on Johnny, please hold on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Firefighter/paramedic John Gage studiously surveys the interior of the structure, on edge from a feeling of deja vu. It was not an altogether unusual sensation for him. With his years of experience, it was natural that elements of one call would bring to mind another fire or rescue he'd responded to, sometimes more than one. Normally there was a level of reassurance that accompanied the recollections. After all, experience walked hand in hand with instinct as a fireman's best friends. But this time, as he struggles to call up whatever parallel to this mall fire kept dodging his consciousness, his internal alarms are ringing like crazy.

Intermittently made invisible by the wafting smoke, a receding Cael Perry could be heard to say, "Command, this is HT 10. We've recovered the child and she's safe. Gage is continuing to the second floor to assist in the sweep there."

The second floor. 'Roy and Marty are up there,' Johnny thought with a growing surge of panic. Somehow, he feels certain the floor is in imminent danger of collapse. He has to get to his friends before it's too late. As he approaches the escalator, however, fire comes down from the ceiling like a blistering rain of light off to his left. The flaming debris half buries a pair of unsuspecting firemen. Without warning, instinct and experience, that were typically quite chummy, turn their backs on each other in an attempt to drag John Gage in opposite directions.

'Chet and Marco!' They had been little more than a distant blur in a surreal, shadowy haze. There was no way their station mate could know it was them. Yet Johnny was certain. It's all so familiar. Too familiar. Like he is seeing into the future... or maybe...

A gloved hand passes through the air before the unsettled man's eyes. But whether he is trying to push aside the fog in order to see more clearly or cast aside any visions altogether is indeterminable.

Johnny hesitates, torn between his obligation to his comrades buried under the flaming debris and his fear for his friends on the increasingly unstable second floor. It is eerie nearly to the point of paralysis. How can he make a choice based on knowing something he couldn't possibly know? On the other hand, he can't just stand there. So he yields to the unconscious force that draws him back toward the escalator. That is, he moves forward until another force literally grabs him from behind and brings him to a halt.

"What do you think you're doing?"

It's a familiar voice but John can't quite place it, what with the dull background roar of the growing inferno, pressurized water and occasional shouting. Nonetheless, it doesn't phase the firefighter/paramedic in the slightest when he turns to discover his peer and buddy, Martin Horgas standing there. It isn't at all startling that, although he is in uniform, it's the standard, light-duty blues. There is no turnout coat, no air mask. He isn't even wearing his helmet. And yet it somehow seems perfectly natural to observe, unobscured, his friend's simultaneously pleasant and disapproving expression. Why should he take issue with that when the man couldn't possibly even be on the first floor?

...Some small, dissociated part of Johnny knew that he was dreaming even as he continued on in his current, albeit altered, reality.

"You gotta let go," he said.

Marty cocked his head slightly and gave a little squint. "That can be taken a few ways," he noted almost ominously.

"Take it as... my arm," came the reply.

The other man complied, releasing his grip on the sleeve of the turnout coat. But he clearly wasn't happy about it. "Do you really know what you're doing here?" Horgas queried. Then for emphasis he practically challenged, "I mean... *really*?"

Johnny was beginning to get irritated at the pseudo-human roadblock. "I've got to get you and Roy out of there."

"Only you can't... and you know it."

"I have to try," Johnny responded a little too emphatically.

"Why?"

"You're kidding me, right?" The dreamer was more aware then ever that he was dreaming. But all that meant to him was that this short-sleeved, first floor Marty had to know perfectly well what was going to happen. "Yuh... uh... Some," he stumbled, his eyes plummeting to his feet, "someone's gonna die if I don't do something."

Horgas just shook his head. "Someone's gonna die anyway. There's not enough time... There ISn't... and there WASn't..."

It was Gage's turn to shake his head in abject denial. "You can't know that."

"The hell I can't! Man, why do I even have to tell you this? The only thing there's ever been any time for was upping the casualty list. And you've already done a bang-up job of that." Marty took hold of his friend again, both arms this time. "But don't you think a suicide mission is a good place to draw the line?"

Johnny looked up but couldn't meet the specter eye to eye. "Roy made it... But ya know, if I don't... maybe it was meant to be."

The flames devouring Yardley's paled in comparison to the sparks in Horgas' eyes. "Bullshit!" he fairly spat. "You're the one who needs to let go, my friend." Then quieter, as an aside, he muttered, "Well, you and Roy, both."

"Marty..."

"Don't you get it? You go up there {Horgas glanced upward}... and it all comes crashing down. And I'm not talking 'the second story' here. And when I say 'you need to let go'... I mean this {He gestured to the smoke-filled chaos}... not everything. Cuz you have to hold on, too. You and Roy can get past this, but you have to do it together. And he's on his way, John. You're partner's already on his way..."

The pretty blonde nurse squeezed the limp hand of her patient and continued, "It wouldn't be very nice of you not to be around when he gets here. And, from what I hear, you're a really nice guy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Shea sat there next to Johnny she could see a slight smile start to form on his lips as if he had heard her. The response startled her. "Come on Johnny I know you're in there. Open those eyes." And the patient's eyes did, indeed flicker then slowly begin to open. The nurse smiled. "That's it. Welcome back Mr. Gage," she greeted while reaching for the call button. "I need the doctor in her quick. Mr. Gage is coming around."

She looked down at her charge. "Everything is ok now, Johnny. You're safe and sound. Just relax and the doctor will be here soon." (

Although Johnny understood what the woman was saying, his mind is raced, wondering what happened to his female traveler.

On her way to intercept the doctor, the nurse paused in the doorway as if she saw something in the hall that was noteworthy. She turned to face the handsome, California patient with a smile brighter than a toothpaste commercial. "You must be a pretty popular fellow, Mr. Gage. Not that that comes as a surprise, of course." Normally, the comment would have elicited the paramedic's patented charm, but he was too intent on what the woman was about to say.

"From what I understand, you've got a friend on his way here... all the way from LA." With a quick glance at her watch she added, "I expect he'll probably be here within the hour."

'Roy,' Johnny thought with a mixture of gladness and trepidation.

"And as soon as the doctor gives his OK... Well, your... uh... passenger is pretty anxious to see you."

The half reclining paramedic leaned forward just a little, his eyes a bit more intently focused.

"Bonnie? She's all right then?"

Tilting her head, the young woman replied, "We didn't have to treat her, if that's what you mean."

Healers often tend to be wise for their years. In the nurse's eyes, Johnny could see words being held back. In her voice, he heard them. "But," he encouraged her to continue.

"Bonnie... Miss Weston... she's lost in a world of troubles. It's always been that way. We grew up together... it's always been that way." The concern for the plight of another human being that had been written plainly across her face then began to yield to doubt and guilt. "Maybe if someone had... I mean, we probably should have... but we were just kids, ya know?"

Shea sighed, then her body shook ever so slightly as if she were trying to free herself from the shadow of the past. "Anyway, like I said, Bonnie's been lost. But I think, stumbling across you... I think she finally sees the path out of all that. She sees it and she recognizes it for what it is." The woman's teeth shown again, like sunshine through the clouds. "It's too bad you can't put something like this on a calling card, or a resume. Cuz, in a way, I think you just saved a life today, Johnny... At least I hope so."

"Well, enough chit-chat," Nurse Rogers declared as she turned, once again, for the door. "I really do need to find a..."

She reached for the handle but was forced to jump back with a start as the door swung open in her face.

A man dressed in white, medium height and slim of build, whisked past seeming to leave a palpable wake behind him. The brown-black eyes of the dark-skinned transplant from India might have been intimidating if his character were less suffused with joviality. Upon seeing his head-trauma case awake and, seemingly, quite alert, the doctor paused for only the briefest moment, then his gaze flicked down to the chart in his hand.

"So... Mr. Gage..." he began in a melodious accent that indicated he was first generation American, "You have decided to rejoin the land of the living, I see."

Johnny blinked then stared, wide eyed. The comment was unnerving. Surely he wasn't in that bad of shape? Then again, he had just been engaged in something of a heart-to-heart with his dead friend Marty. That had been a dream, though. Hadn't it? Surely, the doctor's choice of words was just a weird coincidence.

"My name is Dr. Kunnimalaiy," the physician introduced himself as he reached in his pocket for a pen light. Then he bent over his patient and began testing his pupillary responses. "But the people, they call me Dr. Kunni. So tell me, now... how are you..." he began, only to interrupt himself. "Mmmmm... Yes... yes. Most excellent."

With a slightly bemused smirk, Johnny inquired of his caregiver, "So doc, what's the verdict?"

"The verdict? Yes, yes. The verdict... Well... you have been a puzzlement for us, young man. Most definitely."

The oft-hospitalized paramedic fought to keep his eyebrows from arching, though he didn't know how successful he was being since the effort made his headache worse. It felt odd to be referred to as 'young man' by a fellow that, by all appearances, would be younger than Doc Brackett. But any reaction seemed rude.

"How so?" Johnny inquired with a squint that was part pain and part curiosity.

"Ah. Well, we are testing and testing... Why is it this man does not come to his senses? The answer must be in his head. But it is not in a place where we can be finding it."

"You got me doc, I don't think I'm following what you're saying here. How am I doing, and what happened?" a frustrated Johnny asked.

"Ah yes, Mr. Gage. You have had a short stay with us but it was very strange, yes. Very strange indeed." The doctor spoke, excitedly. He didn't think he would ever see such an interesting case in his practice.

"Can you elaborate a bit, Doc? My head is pounding..." Johnny pleaded.

Dr. Kunnimalaiy looked at Johnny and could see how drained he was looking. "No, I'm thinking the elaboration can wait. Right now you need to rest. We will be talking later."

"But Doc, please!"

Dr. Kunnimalaiy clucked reproachfully. "I must be asking, which of us the physician and which of us is the patient? As it happens, even if I would like to be staying, I must be making my rounds. But do not worry. I'll be coming back later to check on you."

Johnny prodded, "And explain things right?"

But the doctor just looked at his watch then shook his head. "Rest Mr. Gage." And in the next instant, he had opened the door and walked out leaving Johnny to leans back into the pillows.

"Man I hate this. No one will tell me what's happened. If I stay in this bed one more minute I'm going to go nuts! He slowly sat up. Just then the nurse walked in and the expression on her wasn't a happy one.

"Oh Man."

Nurse Rogers gave the fidgety patient her best 'where do you think you're going?' stare. Somehow, all nurses reminded Johnny of Dixie when they did that, and it was automatic for him to respectfully obey the unspoken command beneath the look. He settled back down against the pillows.

Satisfied, the caregiver's expression changed to one decidedly more inscrutable. "Did I just hear the doctor order bed rest?" she asked with what sounded like a mixture of concern and exasperation. Her head jerked back to the empty doorway for an instant then her eyes returned quickly to her charge. "What have you been up to? You seemed fine when I left."

"No kidding," Johnny agreed. "What's this guy's story anyway?" he asked, starting to tense up a little around the edges. "I mean, is he a head doctor... or a head *shrinker*? He had me going round in circles trying to get a straight answer or two out of him as far as what happened to me and what my current condition is."

The nurse's head dropped for a moment as a knowing smile graced her countenance. The smile grew a little wider still as she gazed up with her head tilted and responded, "He shamanized you." The lilt in her voice was like she had asked a question and answered it simultaneously.

"Huh?"

"Instead of answering your questions directly he deflected them in a way that had you asking yourself other questions entirely?"

The weary paramedic thought for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then they closed altogether as he allowed himself a couple of very deep breaths. He wasn't sure how much of his headache was organic and how much had it's roots in his psyche.

"Maybe," he reluctantly conceded.

Nodding, Nurse Rogers continued, "Certain patients bring out the mystic in him more than others. And since the precise nature of your ailment has been an enigma ever since your first test results came back negative... Well, you can't really blame him for being enigmatic, now can you?"

Johnny did what came naturally, he shrugged boyishly. Then his mind grabbed onto an idea like a dog grabbing onto a mailman. With an eager light in his eyes he asked, "Are you saying there's nothing wrong with me?"

"Whoa there, tiger," the young nurse admonished as she stepped closer. "I most certainly am *not* saying there's nothing wrong with you... I... I'm just saying we haven't come up with a diagnosis... yet."

"Yeah, but..." The beaming paramedic welcomed back his youth even as the young nurse aged to sound more and more like Dixie McCall with every stern word.

"Don't 'yeah, but' me, buster. I've been 'yeah, butted' more times than I can count. And by patients better looking and more charming than you!" It was a lie, of course, and something in the hang-dog look Mr. GQ gave her suggested he knew it too. Nurse Rogers focused very hard on the seriousness of what she had to say to maintain her somber appearance. "Tests or no tests, a person who's been unconscious with depressed vitals for several hours is *not* fine."

"Depressed?" Johnny muttered, suddenly reflective in mood. "How depressed?..." When he paused, the nurse started to give him an answer, but he waved her off. "Never mind. I think I know."

"Dr. Kunni really did get to you, didn't he?"

"There's a lot that's been getting to me," Johnny admitted.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No. Well, yeah... but, no... *Want* to?" The paramedic who'd been stumbling under his burden for so long ran his fingers through his wavy hair and shook his head in the negative as his final answer. Then he sighed. "*Need* to? That's a different story."

"I could pull up a chair..." the kind-hearted nurse offered.

Johnny blinked, visibly taken aback by the offer. It shouldn't have startled him but his mind was somewhere else. With someone else.

"No... I mean, I appreciate it. I do. But what I have to say... it's gonna be hard enough to say just once. And I don't know which is more important... my saying it or the person who needs to hear it."

"The friend on the way," the woman noted instinctively and Johnny lowered his eyes signaling she was right. Nurse Rogers straightened her shoulders as she adopted a more professional air. "So, how are you feeling now? Are you up for another visitor while you wait for him?"

"What about the doc..." Johnny began but then trailed off as a look of complete puzzlement settled on his face. "Another visitor? ...Who..." Then he remembered. "Bonnie? Is she still here?." He peered over to the vacant doorway as Nurse Rogers nodded.

"Oh yes. Definitely. I'm definitely feeling up for visitors... You bet."

Bonnie walked in the door with her head hung low. When she looked up at Johnny he could see the scrapes and bumps on her face. Neither said a word for a short while. Bonnie wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he would react. Then a slight, crooked smile began to form on his lips and she couldn't help but smile back, nervously. As she walked closer to his bed, he held out his hand. Why would he offer her his hand after what she put him through with Harry? There was so much she needed to tell him. The question was, would he listen? But looking into his chocolate colored eyes, she knew she had to tell him the truth about her and Harry. Of course, before she could tell him that, she had to tell him something else first.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," Bonnie said in a quite voice. A stray tear started to fall down her cheek and the rescue-man reached up and wiped it away with his thumb. "I know what I did you can never forgive me for and I don't expect you to. I never meant to drag you into this mess. I never wanted you get hurt." The tears were falling full force down her cheeks as she talked between sobs. "If I could take back that day our meeting, I would in a heartbeat. I should have just stayed with Harry and..."

Johnny had to stop her right there. "You did the right thing Bonnie, getting away from him... But you should have told me the truth. If you had, that officer wouldn't have been shot... You should have trusted me. Trust is a powerful thing. I have people trusting me everyday to make the right decisions about their lives. I trust my partner with my life and he trusts me with his."

"I know that I should have Johnny," Bonnie allowed, "but with Harry I never had that... Anyway, I hope maybe somewhere down the road you'll be able to forgive me."

"I don't think that will happening."

The words surprised the fragile young hitchhiker. Bonnie looked at Johnny, somehow not believing he wouldn't forgive her later on. She removed her hand from his and took a step backwards. "I'm so sorry, Johnny," she repeated as she turned to leave.

But Johnny wasn't finished with her yet. "I forgive you now Bonnie. I'm not the type of person that holds a grudge for months... Well unless its Chet," he added with a chuckle.

"Johnny are you sure?"

"Positive."

His smile made her feel ever so happy so she leaned in and gave him a long hug. Just then there was a knock at the door.

John Gage's doe brown eyes drifted over Bonnie's shoulder and widened like a deer caught in headlights. A hundred emotions broke over him like a wave at the timely appearance of the man he both desperately needed and desperately feared talking to. The young paramedic's often easy grin failed him as he took note of his partner's stillness, pale and hard in the institutional lighting.

Bonnie felt the embrace of her unexpected hero go stiff. She wasn't picking up on the hot or cold of unchecked emotions, but the tension that had entered the room was unmistakable. 'The Partner,' she thought as she turned to the door, but she barely caught sight of the sandy haired man before another, noticeably younger, fellow shouldered his way past.

"What is it Roy? Has he taken... another..." firefighter and friend Cael Perry queried anxiously, breezing into the hospital room before Bonnie had fully straightened herself. Cael's eyebrows raised a little then his teeth gleamed brightly and his eyes twinkled. "Oh yeah... Yep... He *has* taken 'another'."

Nobody laughed. Nobody got irritated or embarrassed. Bonnie and Cael looked uneasily from the man in the bed to the man in the doorway then they finally locked eyes, helplessly, on one another. The young hose jockey didn't care much for the silence, not that he let it last very long before he addressed the lovely albeit battered woman across from him.

"So, you must be the one who..." he began, only to falter. Deciding for once not to let his mouth get ahead of him, he switched gears. "So you must be the one the... uh... Deputy... is waiting for."

Johnny's head ached and everything was starting to feel a little surreal to him. So it took a second for him to process what his buddy had said. Then it started to sink in. "Deputy?" Then he started to get aggravated. "Deputy?!"

Bonnie saw his concern for her welfare and marveled at it, feeling all the more unworthy. Certainly the last thing she wanted now was for this beautiful man with this beautiful heart to work himself into a state. "He gave me a ride here," she offered.

But the dark haired patient had already risen from the pillows with eyes narrowed. "That's not why he's out there right now."

"Johnny..."

"No! For cryin' out loud, you're the victim here!"

The paramedic's remark elicited the first response from his senior partner who rolled his eyes with a snorting half laugh. Johnny raised an accusatory finger but, before he could get a word out, Bonnie caught his hand and gently but firmly pushed it back down to the bed.

"Johnny, don't," she pleaded, then shifted her position a little to force him to look at her. "Johnny... It's more complicated than that. I lost my innocence a long time ago."

"Bonnie..."

"Don't," she insisted then took a deep breath to steady herself. "When I said I never wanted you to get hurt, I meant it. Really. But I *was* planning to grab your wheels and turn them over to Harry... He isn't all about fear, you know."

The errant hitch-hiker had been scrutinizing the Samaritan's face carefully and, when he appeared ready to object, she cut him off. "No... I'm not trying to defend him this time. Really, I'm not. I'm just trying to be honest. I can never pay you back for what you've done for me, but that much I can give you."

"He was violent."

"Yeah. Yeah he was... sometimes. And that's all you saw 'cause that's what he thought would work best. But that wasn't all he was... You know, it's true. I was a victim, once upon a time, when I was a kid. And actually, so was Harry. We were both a mess when we found each other, and together... we were just a bigger mess... If I want to stop being a victim I have to let go of the child I used to be. I need to grow up and start taking responsibility for my actions. I'm ready to do that now... thanks to you."

Fighting to maintain her composure, Bonnie bent down and kissed her benefactor on the cheek.

"You gonna be all-right?"

"That Deputy outside? Paul was my prom date back in high school... He didn't have to bring me here. He says he wants to help me, and I believe him. Paul's a good guy. I'd forgotten there were guys like that still left in the world. At least I had until today... er, yesterday."

With a gentle half-smile, Johnny squeezed Bonnie's hand. "If you need anything..."

The woman resisted the impulse to say, 'If I need anything, you better be a long-distance phone call away!' Instead she went with, "You've already acted above and beyond the call of duty. I'll take it from here... and I won't let you down." And with that, the lost young woman walked away from the brutal shadow of her youth with the promise of changing her life by changing herself.

Oddly, for all that John Gage had willingly risked to help the young woman, her exit didn't fully register for him. Her words about the call of duty and not letting people down cut him hard and deep, reminding him of what had been lost and what was still in jeopardy. It was as painful as salt in an unhealed wound and the hospitalized paramedic winced before dropping back wearily to the pillows beneath him.

The reaction wasn't lost on the senior paramedic who took several steps toward his partner and friend. Roy did an incomplete job of masking concern with professionalism when he asked, "Johnny... you all-right?"

Unexpectedly, the question elicited a half chuckle and the tracings of a self-deprecating grin. "Yeah," Johnny replied. "It only hurts when I think."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several weeks have passed since Johnny's ill-gotten get way. He's been back to work but he's still not himself. He's still carrying the baggage of the day Martin Horgas died. Every fire they are called to he breaks out in a cold sweat. Roy thinks he should talk to a 'professional' but Johnny refuses saying he's fine. Now, Johnny is up late watching The Phantom of the Library for 388th time. He drifts to sleep but not long after he hears his name being called. He slowly opens his eyes thinking its Roy. But who he sees makes his eyes get wide fear comes quickly over him.

"Marty!" Johnny exclaims, "wha... wha... what do you want?

Gage leans as far back in the chair as he can as Horgas leans down closer to him. "I'm not here to hurt you, Johnny. I'm here to talk to you. Your heart is heavy and your mind is scattered... well a little more than usual in your case," he adds with a smile.

Johnny wishes he would wake up from this nightmare he pinches himself. "Ouch."

Marty grins, "Johnny, you're awake this is no dream. I'm real as I ever was."

"You're dead. I saw your body," he says about an octave higher than usual. "You're dead because of me."

Horgas had been smiling, but the grin fades from his face. "Yes you saw my body but not my sprit. You can't kill a spirit. I was hoping that after all that's happened you would see that it wasn't your fault. But you refuse to see that and now I have to make you understand that you aren't to blame for what happened."

"And how are you going to do that," Johnny asks, somewhat afraid now.

" I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. I don't have much time Johnny, but I have to get you past this. You loose yourself now and you'll always be afraid of what you can't stop or change. Now listen and listen well Johnny, to what I'm about to tell you..."

"I'm listening," Johnny mumbled.

"What? Wha... what do you want me to say?" It was Roy's voice, not Marty's. "I... I didn't realize you were awake," the senior partner continued, uncertainly.

John Gage opened his eyes... barely. It was unclear whether the squint was from sleepiness, confusion or uneasiness about what he might see when he opened them. What he saw was that he was still in the hospital. It hadn't been weeks after all. "*Am* I awake?" he asked with surprising earnestness. To address his own question he pinched himself on the arm and promptly twisted up his face in an effort not to say "Ow" this time. This time?

"Yeah, like *that* proves anything."

The sandy-haired paramedic didn't rise from his seat, but he did put aside the newspaper he was reading, then folded his arms and regarded his friend somberly.

"You weren't talking to *me*, were you."

The awkwardness that had descended upon the room when Roy DeSoto and Cael Perry had arrived was back in full force. Or perhaps it had never really left. Johnny adjusted his pillows, ostensibly so that he could sit upright but it also, conveniently, gave him a reason to avoid eye-contact. "I guess I... I wasn't really..." he began but paused for a moment when there seemed no place to look but at his partner... or former partner... his friend at least. "You changed?"

Roy's shoulders tensed as he prepared to spread his arms wide in a questioning gesture, but he caught Johnny's meaning before his hands rose off his lap. "Clothes, you mean?" he asked as he looked down at his blue jeans and plaid cotton shirt. "Yeah. JoAnne threw an overnight bag together for me."

"Get any sleep?" When Roy nodded in the affirmative Johnny asked another question. "Did ya make it out to the cabin?" More head movement, this time in the negative.

"No. I was tired. It was dark and I don't know the area. Didn't seem wise to go looking for it. There's... uh... there's something that passes for a motel about a mile and a half down the road."

Johnny's slight head bob signaled his approval. "So, is that where Cael's hiding?"

Roy rolled his eyes a mildly then rubbed his chin. "Nope."

"No?"

With a twist of his arm, the visitor stole a look at his watch then stretched a little before answering. " No, I imagine he's home in bed right now. Or at least I hope that's where he is... Kids!"

"Wait a minute! Are you saying he drove out here, then turned right around and drove all the way back? And you let him do it?!"

"Yeah, that's right, Junior. He went with my blessing."

Sarcasm was a startling thing when it came from Roy DeSoto's mouth. The younger paramedic dialed his intensity down a notch. "He wouldn't listen to reason?"

The older man settled down too and folded his arms again. "You could say that." It was classic 'Roy'. Johnny could tell there was something more, something his reticent companion didn't feel inclined to chatter on about. The natural follow-up course of action was to prod for more information with a wordless, exasperated 'look'.

"He didn't wait around for me to talk him out of it."

"You mean he just took off?"

Roy indicated that was the case. Then with an uneasy expression he shifted in his chair to pull a small, slightly wrinkled sheet of paper from his pocket. "He did... uh... Well, he left a note." He looked at it a tad reluctantly before handing it to the man in the hospital bed.

Guys,

Talk to each other... right here, right now.

Or talk at the cabin.

Or talk on the drive home.

But damn it, don't come back until you TALK.

-Cael

With a bowed head, Roy stole a glance upward to assess his partner's reaction.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh and turned unfocused eyes toward the window. Then, running a hand through his bed-head of dark locks, he craned his neck and mustered up something resembling his famous grin. "The guy disappears silently into the night but leaves us a note, basically commanding us to speak to one another. Maaaan... ya gotta be impressed by the irony!"

"Gotta, huh?" came the reply, accompanied by a genuine smile.

The room was relatively bright, the institutional white enhanced by sunlight albeit indirect. That realization prompted Johnny to ask, "What time is it by the way?"

"9:17"

"Get me outta here."

"Johnny..."

"Hey... They said 'overnight for observation'. The night ended a while ago."

"You sure about that?" Roy asked, and it was evident that he had more on his mind than the rising and setting of the sun.

Johnny had already slid his lanky frame around so that he could stand up, an action that propelled his friend from the visitor's chair. The newspaper fluttered to the ground as Roy caught at Johnny's arm, but the man proved to be surprisingly steady on his feet. With a conspiratorial hush the paramedic-turned-patient said, "You find out where they put my Rover..." With jerky head movements John began scanning the room. "...and I'll find out where they put my clothes..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like the foreshadowing of a beneficent peace, brushstrokes of midnight blue began to seep into the brilliant reds and oranges of the Black Hills' sky. Communal in aura, the wondrous natural vista was itself becoming a backdrop for the orchestra of insects, their symphony every bit as colorful as the kaleidoscopic Arizona sunset. The heavens and the earth were connected by the faint chill of a whispering breeze that sang lullabies older than time itself.

And at a weathered, hand-hewn picnic table beside a rustic cabin, sat two Los Angeles paramedics, beers in hand, ruminating on events that had brought them together and torn them apart. But mostly, reflecting on the events that had done all of that and then some. Handfuls of 'fallen soldiers' lay scattered about with nothing but a bag of potato chips presenting itself as food.

The men had had lunch at least. It had been around noon when they finally broke free of the hospital, so they stopped at a diner to grab a bite and fill each other in on recent events. Roy, as usual, didn't have much to say. Things at the department were slowly getting back to normal. Manpower was approaching full strength again so overtime was dropping off, leaving on-the-job mishaps to follow suit... which in turn meant less of a drain on personnel... etc.

In contrast, Johnny's story had been longer and the storyteller decidedly more animated. It left the older fellow shaking his head with a bemused smile. Gage was 'impossible'. He had a knack for making his friend feel concern, pride and, sometimes, a little jealousy, all at the same time; and he could charm you to death while he was at it. If there was trouble to be found anywhere in the area, there was no doubt John Gage was going to walk right up to it and shake hands, particularly if a pretty girl was involved. The man was basically a divining rod for trouble. But putting himself in harm's way was just the price his friend was always willing to pay in order to help people. Why the cost had to be higher for Johnny than most, Roy didn't understand. If he made the rules it wouldn't be that way. But he didn't make the rules... and that was that.

After the diner it was off to the market and from there on to the cabin. And from the outside looking in, everything seemed normal. The fact that there was 'an elephant in the room', or more precisely a ghost, was something that could only be felt but not observed. The duo had decided on chili for dinner and Roy started the fire while Johnny dug up cooking utensils. They were halfway through the preparations when the senior partner snapped out of a trance the dancing flames seemed to have put him into.

"What are we doing?" he asked out of the blue.

The younger man furled his brow, glanced at the fixin's then back at Roy. "Uh... is that supposed to be a trick question there, Pally?"

DeSoto had reached into his pocket and then slapped his hand down on the counter top. His counterpart was stunned to see Cael's note once again. He thought he'd left it on the bed in the hospital. "We had pretty explicit instructions," Roy noted with irritation.

Johnny placed both hands on the counter arching his back to lean against it. "Yeah," he admitted. "I guess we did."

"How 'bout I grab a six pack?"

"Sure... but what are *you* gonna drink?"

So, with two sixers instead of one, the pair headed outside and settled down at the picnic table, where nothing but silence ensued. At last, it was Roy who primed the conversation with a question.

"Who were you talking to, before?" Johnny's reply was a quizzical glance. "In the hospital this morning... you were talking when you woke up. At first I thought you were talking to me, but you weren't, were you?"

"Roy..." Johnny tried to beg off, rubbing his eyes then his temples as if just his thoughts were causing physical pain.

"Cuz... OK, this is probably going to sound crazy... but if it was Marty you were talking to... well, I've been seeing quite a bit of him myself lately."

Johnny turned to stare, unblinking, at his companion, his partner, his brother by destiny and even by blood, though not in the traditional sense. The lines of communication were finally open.

One by one, the hours, the beers and the men, themselves, were spent, emptied... drained. Although there was a certain level of relief, it didn't come without a price tag of its own. While the old fears and guilt began to fade during their conversation, it simply made room for new concerns to step forward - their failures to truly understand and appreciate the dark place that had caught up the other. The only thing that prevented self-reproachment from gaining too strong a foothold was the sense of incredulity.

"Ya know, Roy; I... man, I still don't get it."

"Which part?"

Johnny shrugged and shook his head. "Take your pick."

"Yeah, well that narrows it down."

"I don't... I mean, how could..." the dark haired man stumbled as he fidgeted with his empty bottle. His partner watched the struggle in patient silence until Johnny set the bottle heavily on its side. Neither moved a muscle as it rolled to the table's edge and fell to the ground.

The restless paramedic stared it for a moment then out towards the darkening horizon until he again found his voice. "It sounds... it sounds wrong to say this, but we got lucky that day, Roy. You were right there. You were on that escalator too... You did your time in the hospital to prove it... I don't know how you come up with... with Marty being your fault."

Roy sighed then opened his mouth to speak. But he shut it again when Johnny continued.

"And I *really* don't get how you think you let *me* down... think I don't trust you."

Satisfied that his friend was finished, the veteran raised his hand as if to grab the right words out of thin air. But he was too slow and Johnny kept on going.

"Christ, Roy. You're my partner... If anyone let anyone down..."

"That's right," the usually soft-spoken listener blurted out in frustration causing Johnny to flinch backward in response. Afraid his friend might have mistaken his meaning, Roy rubbed his forehead. "No, that's not...You're right. I *am* your partner; and you're mine. We have to be able to trust each other with our lives."

"Yeah. And I'm telling you, I have that trust. In you anyway."

"Well, maybe your doubt isn't the problem." With a look from Johnny, Roy offered a pained smile and amended his observation. "OK, Maybe it's *a* problem... I didn't know where you were, junior. We were stopped on that escalator because Marty was afraid we'd left you up there... and I couldn't reassure him that we hadn't."

"Because I should have been."

"What? And ignore the possible Code I's on the 1st floor?"

"Chet and Marco were fine."

"And you were just supposed to know that... psychically?"

"I could ask you the same question there, pally."

The older man stared at his friend, unblinking, for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose you've got a point." He drained the last drop of the beer in his hand then added, "You know what the worst part of all this is?"

"That if Marty were here right now he'd probably kick our sorry behinds all the way 'cross the county and back? Seriously, this whole thing would just... well... make him nuts."

"Yeah. So he keeps saying, " Roy agreed.

"Mmmm. But, uh... we're not gonna tell Chet about that, right?"

"Or anyone else for that matter."

Johnny nodded, relieved. "Hey! Speaking of that, how're you gonna get back? No, that was a stupid question... When do you need to get back?" Once again, the young paramedic continued before his friend had a chance to speak. "You know what, never mind. How 'bout we head home first thing in the morning?"

It was settled.

The men sat together in comfortable silence for a bit. But it wasn't too long before exhaustion and alcohol took their toll and they decided to call it a night. After they had settled into their cots, in the camouflage of darkness, Johnny offered up, "You know, I wasn't kidding before when I talked about us being lucky. Good partners are hard to find."

So as not to be heard, Roy fairly breathed, "They're even harder to lose."

And as the two began to drift off into a long elusive, peaceful night of slumber, a fading and disembodied voice could be heard to echo, "Amen to that, my friends. Amen to that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Unbeknownst to his comrades, Martin Horgas had stood there watching the men talk their way through their worries and fears. He was glad they both understood that what happened was neither of their faults. He smiled as they came to terms with what had happened back at that fire. They now could move on with their lives as he was to move on with his. He walked over to the cabin door and opened it causing a high wind to blow in. Johnny and Roy sat up quickly wondering how the door opened. They both stared at wooden boards on the rusty hinges wondering if something is coming in.

Marty smiled then waved, saying, "See ya around boys. I'll be watching you." Then he turned and walked through the door, his body disappearing even as the door slowly closed shut... all by itself.

Johnny and Roy looked at each other, stunned.

"I swear I heard Marty," Johnny admitted.

In the darkness, Roy nodded in agreement. "Yeah me too."

"Man, we either had waaay too much to drink and hallucinated that... or it really was Marty."

Roy merely shrugged. "I don't know, but I we really do need to grab some sleep. We've got a long drive back to tomorrow." Then he added, But as long as I'm up," and with that he headed out to the privy.

Johnny stretched out on the couch looked around. With his partner conveniently out of earshot he said quietly...

"Bye Marty. I know you have our backs." Then Johnny grinned and closed his eyes.

Soon the pair of men were fast a sleep content that, for tonight at least, no nightmares would wake them... at long last, the past would be able to stay back in the past.