So I don't offend anyone who might actually live in Tulare (pronounced Too-Larry), I visited it in the early 90's and it seemed like such a nice little town, that I used it in this story. I have taken a great deal of license and made it a little smaller than it probably is, or was, in the 70's. I really have no clue how big a police force they employ, so I admit now to all errors in that matter. Warning: Rated R. This story contains adult subject matters and reference to sexual crimes that may be offensive to some readers.
All things Emergency! belong to Mark VII Productions and Universal Studios.

Tulare, California

The last few hours before shift change were pretty boring, but then how much stuff happened between 4 and 7 a.m. in a sleepy burg like Tulare? It wasn't that Michael "Buck" Starnes missed the crime and violence of Los Angeles, but after ten years on the force for LAPD, protecting and serving the citizens of Tulare, California sometimes dulled a little by comparison. The small town, located off Route 99, just south of Fresno, wasn't exactly a hot spot of criminal activity.

Buck sat in his patrol car and took a long drink of coffee. His wife always sent him a big thermos to get him through the night. He smiled when he thought of Teresa and their four kids. It was for them that he moved out here to the sticks. He'd seen so much death and desperation, that it was an easy choice to make. Even at times like this, when he felt that pent up yearning for excitement, he just had to imagine the sweet faces of his darling girls and it didn't matter.

The skyline to the east was just getting light, more gray than blue yet. Buck's eyes moved automatically from the horizon to scan the street he was parked on. A blend of small businesses and private residences, it was the most likely place for any kind of incident. He chuckled to himself at what this town considered an incident - anything from an annoying barking dog to old lady Ross, who always saw prowlers the night after she watched Police Story.

Buck took another swig of coffee, then paused with his hand midway from his mouth. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Someone was weaving down the sidewalk. He'd seen few drunks or bums around in his three years here, and most of them hung out by the train tracks. It was unusual for one of them to wander this far into town.

Setting his cup down on the dash, the officer got out of his car. He knew this was probably no big deal - some local out celebrating or drowning some sorrow, but experience made him cautious. Buck let his hand hover near his gun as he approached the man.

As he got nearer, the officer relaxed a bit. He didn't smell alcohol and the guy didn't have that glazed look someone strung out on drugs wore. He looked more lost than anything else.

"Hey, fella," Buck greeted, keeping his tone non-threatening. "Whatcha doin' out so early?"

The man didn't say anything, and after a time, as if it took awhile to process the question, he shrugged his bony shoulders.

Buck looked him over critically. He didn't recognize him and the officer prided himself on knowing nearly everyone in town. The man was tall - right around 6 feet - lean to the point of looking underfed. In the predawn light it was hard to tell his age, but Buck put him in his mid thirties. His dark hair was long - brushing past his shoulders and hanging in his face. He needed a shave and a bath, and his clothes were ragged.

"Why don't I take ya to a place where you can eat somethin', get cleaned up a bit," the officer suggested and put a hand on the stranger's shoulder, prodding him toward his car.

He came along meekly, and Buck soon realized that what he'd mistaken for a drunken stagger was in reality a pronounced limp in the man's right leg. The stranger seemed used to it, however, like it was an accustomed problem, and got into the back of the Impala without a word. Buck shut the door after him, then climbed in behind the wheel. He glanced at his passenger in the rear view mirror. The man had settled up against the far door, his arms wrapped around himself.

"What's yer name, pal?" Buck asked quietly, as he turned the key in the ignition. He noticed the man jumped a little at the sound of the engine, but that was all. He didn't answer the question.

Guess it doesn't matter right now, Buck decided. He pulled the car into the lane and started toward headquarters.

The ride was uneventful. The quiet stranger never made a sound. When they arrived, Buck saw Jeff Bailey's squad car was already here, anticipating his relief. Tulare was small enough to only require a two man graveyard shift. Their force employed a total of 15 officers and they rotated the unpopular duty between them.

He got his charge out of the car and steered him toward the station house. The bright lights inside made the man flinch, but he didn't put up a fight.

"Hey, Buckie," Bailey greeted from his desk. He looked up, obviously startled to see Starnes had company. "Who's your friend there?"

"Found him over on Magnolia. Not sure who he is." Buck took the stranger's arm and led him down the hall. Bailey must have been bored for he unfolded his lanky frame from behind his desk and followed after them.

"Is he a drunk? A druggie?" Bailey was young, not much more than a rookie, and had much to learn in the way of tact.

"Don't think so," Buck answered. "He hasn't said much though."

"Should ya call the Chief?"

Buck gave Bailey an incredulous look. Though the younger officer towered over him by nearly six inches, Starnes' own sturdy, well-built frame gave him a presence that could cow any of his co-workers. "Yeah, right. I'm gonna wake up the Chief at the crack of dawn to tell him I found a stray."

He stopped when they reached the small locker room. There was a bathroom and a shower for those less pleasant moments of police work. Buck grabbed a towel and then dug through his own locker for something suitable to give the guy to change into. He came up with a pair of sweat pants that looked like they might fit. He was about the same height as the man, though Buck was definitely heavier. He held them out.

"Here, take these and get yourself cleaned up. There's soap and shampoo in there. I'll see about finding you something to eat."

The stranger stared at the bundle for a moment, then reached out a tentative hand to take them. He gave both officers an uncertain look, then shuffled into the shower area. Buck wasn't sure the guy would know what to do, but relaxed when he heard the water come on.

"Man," Bailey whistled. "The guy's a loony, Buckie. You should probably take him into Fresno to the nut house."

Buck shook his head. "Bailey, you don't know jack. He's not crazy. I think something happened to him."

Bailey scratched his short blond hair. "Like what? We woulda heard about anybody runnin' into trouble." He laughed. "You're gettin' soft," he accused.

Starnes just rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful, kid. Look through any missing persons reports we got in. See if anybody fits his description."

"Aw, Buck, what for? You know we don't get diddly squat through this office."

"Just do it for me, Bailey," Buck asked. "You know you've got the knack for finding things."

The younger man obviously thought it was a waste of time, but he wandered back to his desk. Buck was glad to be rid of him for the moment. He was going over in his own mind the possibilities of what might have happened to this man, and Bailey's yapping was annoying.

The water shut off, and after a while the stranger emerged. The sweat pants hung loose on his hips, but they were better than the filthy, threadbare pants he'd been wearing. Without a shirt on, Buck could see even more how skinny the guy was. His ribs were plainly visible, and there were fine white lines across his torso that looked suspiciously like scars. As he came forward, he was having some trouble toweling his hair dry, as if it was too much effort to lift his arms up. Buck moved over to help.

"Here, buddy, lemme give you a hand."

He stepped behind the guy and took the towel, but stopped when he saw the condition of the man's back.

"Good God!" Buck breathed out before he could stop himself.

The stranger jerked away and whirled around to face the policeman, dark eyes haunted with fear. Once more he wrapped his arms around himself protectively.

Somebody sure did a number on him, Buck observed inwardly, but didn't give voice to his thoughts. He studied the man sympathetically.

"Don't be afraid," he soothed. "Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore." He slowly reached into his locker and pulled out an old t-shirt. "Here, put this on." He held it out - a peace offering.

The man regarded it warily, then took the shirt and pulled it over his head.

"There," Buck went on, feeling more and more like he was dealing with a frightened animal. "That's all right now. If you want to come out to my desk, I'll try and find you something to eat."

He started walking, hoping he would be followed. Sure enough, after only a brief hesitation, he heard faltering steps behind him. He pulled a chair up beside his desk and motioned for the man to sit. He rummaged through the small refrigerator, not finding much. He pulled out a lone can of Coke and held it up.

"Okay, we got Coke or milk. What's your poison?"

He wasn't really expecting an answer and shut the fridge, ready to bring the soda over.

"Milk."

He paused, not even sure he'd heard. "What's that, pal?"

The man swallowed and spoke again, not much louder. "Can I have some milk?"

Buck grinned. "Milk it is." He switched the soda for a small carton of milk. He glanced over at Bailey, who was busy flipping through flyers. "Hey, rookie, ya got any of your dinner left?"

The younger officer glanced up and grimaced. "Yeah. My girlfriend keeps sending me these stupid chicken salad sandwiches." He reached into his desk and tossed Starnes a paper sack.

Buck caught it deftly and brought it and the milk over to his desk.

"Here ya go," he offered, pulling a plastic wrapped sandwich out of the bag. He opened the milk and poured it into a paper cup. "Why don't you eat while I start some paperwork here."

He found the right forms and loaded his typewriter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man grab the cup and gulp down half the milk before he reached for the sandwich.

"Okay, here we go. Name..." He glanced at the man. "Sure you can't tell me your name?"

There was no answer, the guy merely kept shoving bread and chicken into his mouth. Buck sighed. Well, one step at a time, he supposed.

"That's okay. I'll just put in John Doe for now."

If he hadn't been looking at him, Buck would have missed the reaction to his words. As it was, the man merely paused in the middle of a bite, looked up in startled recognition, then went back to eating. Buck narrowed his eyes.

"Is your name John?" The man stopped, put the uneaten part of sandwich down. "It's okay, John," Buck urged. "You can keep eating."

He made a point of turning back to the typewriter and in a moment, John resumed eating. Buck typed in John Doe, and approximated the rest of the personal information. When he was done he noticed the food was gone, so he tried once more to get details.

"Do you know where you live?" No answer. "Any friends or family nearby?" Silence. "John... do you know why you were out walking tonight?"

Still no response, and Buck noticed the more he asked, the more stressed John became. He sat stiffly in the chair, twisting his hands nervously. Realizing he wasn't going to get any more at the moment, the officer gave up the report for now. He could always fill it in later.

"Okay, John... relax. No more questions."

"What are you gonna do with him, Buckie?" Bailey piped up. "I still say you need to send him up to the funny farm. At least for a 72."

Buck shook his head. Perhaps Bailey was technically right. That was procedure for people like this - take them in for a 72 hour period of observation. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this guy than a psych case. He also knew the chief would probably rip him a new one for what he was about to do.

"I'm gonna take him home. Let him get some sleep."

Bailey's eyes bugged in disbelief. "Maybe you need to visit Fresno," he stated firmly. "You really think Teresa's gonna just let this weirdo into your house with your kids?"

What Buck thought was that his wife had more compassion in her little finger than Bailey did in his whole soul. But he kept that thought to himself.

"She'll be okay," was all he said. He glanced at the clock. Still another hour before anyone else came on duty. "Call me at home if you find anything. I'll finish my report later today."

"Geeze, Starnes, you could just let him sleep in a cell," Bailey persisted.

Buck shook his head. This guy needed a helping hand and not to be just thrown into a holding cell for the night. He stood up and motioned for John to come with him. The man rose on unsteady feet.

"Keep looking, Bailey," Buck reminded, "I have a feeling about this one."

"Yeah, you and your feelings," was his fellow officer's parting remark, a frown of disapproval darkening his face, but he kept searching the reports nevertheless.

Buck ignored him, and once more helped John into the back of his squad car. He was acting on pure gut instinct here, and Bailey's words kept ringing in his ears. He had confidence in the good nature of his wife, but he certainly hoped he wasn't pushing her farther than she was willing to go.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, the sun was peeking over the tops of the nearby mountains. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 6:30. His family would just be getting up for the day. He turned off the engine and took a deep breath. This was going to be interesting.

"C'mon, John." He got out of the car and opened the back door. He peered inside when no one emerged. His passenger was once more pressed up against the far corner. "This is my house," Buck explained. "You'll be safe here," he promised kindly.

The dark haired man scooted slowly across the seat and finally climbed out of the squad car. Buck placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"The only thing scary here is the number of females," he warned with a chuckle. He led his companion up the brick walkway to the large, wood frame house.

The smell of bacon and the voice of Cookie Monster greeted them as they opened the door. Buck knew his family's routine seldom varied. Teresa would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The girls would be sprawled over the furniture in their pajamas glued to Sesame Street, though his oldest, at nearly nine, tried to pretend she didn't watch it anymore. They must have heard the door, for the air was suddenly filled with delighted screaming.

"Poppi, Poppi! Poppi's home!"

Four miniature tornadoes rushed to greet him, and Buck found himself busy trying to make sure each of his daughters got the same fierce hug. Sylvia was first. His princess, all girl, from her carefully painted toenails to her neatly combed hair. Five year old Rosa was the complete opposite of her sister. She'd started kindergarten this fall and was already the queen of the monkey bars and the star of all their outdoor games. No matter how often Teresa combed the child's hair, it never looked neat. She had the fiercest temper of all his girls, but she was her father's gem, his buddy and playmate.

Three year old Kara was the tender heart of the bunch. She found and nursed every wounded creature in their back yard and cried when any of her sisters were hurt or sick. The baby, Maria, was not quite a year old, and mostly just followed Kara around.

Buck loved his daughters and considered them all beauties. Each had inherited Teresa's dark Hispanic hair and eyes, and his fair skin. And while his wife barely measured five feet tall, Buck was certain the girls were going to be taller than their mother when they were full grown. Already Sylvia could nearly meet Teresa eye to eye.

As the girls clamored for his attention, they became aware he wasn't alone and quickly grew quiet. Holding Maria in his arms, Buck glanced over at John, afraid all the commotion may have frightened him, but Buck's guest was standing calmly inside the hallway, a shy smile on his face. It was the first time the officer had seen one grace the man's features.

"Okay, chicas, say hi to John here," Buck instructed. "He's gonna be visiting us for a while."

"Hi, John," three young voices chorused, while Maria gurgled happily.

Rosa, always the bravest, wandered over to hold out her hand to the tall stranger. "Come an' watch TV with us, John. Mama's almost got breakfast ready."

John hesitated only a moment before he reached to take the child's hand.

"Scamble eggs," Kara piped up. Emboldened by her sister's actions, she grabbed John's other hand.

"Easy, girls," Buck urged softly. "John's had some bad times and he needs to go a little slow."

Kara's face immediately took on a look of sorrow. "You git hurted, John?" she asked.

John shrugged, obviously flustered. Buck stepped in to rescue him.

"Go ahead, John. It's okay. I'll be in the kitchen."

The trio made their way into the living room. John sat down on the sofa and was immediately flanked on each side by Rosa and Kara. After seeing his limp, Kara naturally assumed that was where their new friend had been hurt. She patted his leg soothingly.

Satisfied that they were all right for the moment, Buck made his way to the kitchen, still holding Maria. Sylvia stuck to his side, a little shier than her sisters. He saw his wife, busy over the stove, and come up behind her to snake an arm around her waist. He planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerily. "Smells great."

"Hola, querida," Teresa replied with a smile. "You're home early, aren't you?"

Buck nodded. "A little," he agreed, then plunged ahead. "I brought home company."

Teresa regarded him curiously. "Who? Jeff?"

Buck shook his head. "Nah. I left him at the station working on some stuff."

"Then who?" His wife's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Miguel, who did you bring?"

"His name's John, Mama," Sylvia provided helpfully.

"Juan? Juan who?"

Buck shrugged sheepishly. "I don't know his last name."

"You don't know?" Teresa turned from the stove, brandishing a spatula. "Miguel..." she began.

"Hold on, honey," he advised. "I wouldn't bring anybody dangerous into our home. I found him wandering alone over on Magnolia. He's a little confused, but I think it's because somebody hurt him. I saw..." He paused and glanced down at his daughter, who was listening much too attentively. "Let's just say I'm pretty positive he's been treated pretty badly."

Teresa listened to him, but her face remained uncertain. She wiped her hands on a towel, and set down her spatula. "Well, introduce me, and I'll see for myself."

Smiling at her willingness to at least give the man a chance, Buck led his wife into the living room. There he saw John and the girls sitting on the sofa where he'd left them. The troubled man glanced up, an uncertain look on his face.

"It's okay, John," Buck assured. "This is my wife, Teresa. Honey, this is John."

"Hola, Juan," Teresa greeted.

"He said to call him Johnny," Rosa informed her mother knowingly.

"He did?" Teresa finally smiled. "Welcome to our home, Juanito," she offered warmly. "Are you hungry?"

John's eyes moved to Buck for approval. The officer grinned. "My Teresa's the best cook in town."

One corner of John's mouth lifted in a crooked smile before he turned back to Teresa.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Okay, what's everybody standing around for?" Teresa waved them all into the kitchen. "Let's go eat."

The girls raced ahead of the adults and took their places at the table. Rosa immediately scooted her place setting over to make room for her new friend.

"Can Johnny sit by me, Mama?" she asked hopefully.

"No, me, me," Kara countered. She turned her big dark eyes on John. "Sit by me, Johnny, please."

"Girls," Buck warned sternly and they fell into a reluctant silence. "John will sit where Mama puts him."

Teresa was shaking her head at her daughters' behavior. She brought an extra plate and set it beside Sylvia, with Buck at the head of the table next to their guest.

"Here you go, Juanito. You can eat in peace."

Looking a little overwhelmed, John limped over to take his seat. He did manage to give the younger girls a self-conscious smile, which went a long way in easing their disappointment.

Teresa served up scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits, but Buck knew there would be one more dish. His poor wife never gave up trying to get her family to eat a little closer to her roots, but it was a losing battle. When she brought over the bowl of chili, the older three children groaned loudly.

"Oh, mama, that's icky," Rosa declared, holding her nose.

"Icky," Kara echoed, copying her sister's gesture.

Buck tried hard not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "I don't know why you keep trying, honey," he chuckled.

Teresa sat down in her place and heaped a big spoonful of the steaming chili onto her plate.

"What can I say, Miguel? I'm the only one in this family who has any taste."

Buck only laughed harder.

Teresa looked offended, but Buck knew it was only a game. Sure enough, a smile appeared in a moment as she rolled her eyes at their lack of culinary spirit. She offered the bowl to their guest.

"Would you like some chili, Juanito?" she asked. "You won't hurt my feelings if you say no."

Buck leaned over to reassure John, not wanting him to take it because he was afraid not to. "It really is all right to say no," the officer said with a chuckle. "She's used to all of us turning her down."

John's eye moved between Buck and Teresa, then he held out his plate. "Marco says chili and eggs are good," he said, softly.

"Is Marco a friend of yours?" Buck asked, jumping at any chance of finding out more about this man.

John didn't answer. He frowned for a moment, as if he was trying to remember something, then looked over at Buck, his eyes bewildered.

"I... I'm sorry, I..." He shook his head. "I don't..."

Teresa stepped in smoothly and dished up a helping of chili onto John's plate. "Well, whoever Marco is, he must have good taste." She gave the dark haired man a warm smile.

Buck met his wife's eyes, grateful for her generous spirit. She winked at him, then turned her attention to her plate.

The rest of the meal went without any problems. Buck watched as John ate his fill along with everyone else, glad the man seemed to be comfortable. The period of calm ended at the same time the food ran out. Soon, Teresa was hustling Sylvia and Rosa to get ready for school. Taking advantage of her sister's absence, Kara slid down from her seat and came over to sit beside John.

"Can you play wif me, Johnny?" she asked, her face hopeful.

Buck glanced over from where he was getting the baby down from her high chair.

"Not now, chickadee," he told her. "John's probably very tired. He needs to sleep."

Kara's lower lip stuck out in a pout, but then she brightened. "Was he working all night like you, Poppi?"

Buck smiled at the three year old. "Something like that. Can you play with Maria quietly this morning like you do for me?"

Kara nodded vigorously. "Okay. I promise I won't let Maria wake Johnny up." She padded over and gave Buck a hug around his neck. "You have a good sleep, Poppi," she instructed him firmly. Buck managed to keep back a laugh and nodded obediently. He then watched as his daughter walked over and startled their guest by giving him the same ferocious hug. "You have a good nap, too, Johnny," she told him. She patted his knee once more. "Make your owie go away."

John gave the child a hesitant smile and Buck was surprised to see a tear running down the man's cheek. The officer decided it was time to intervene.

"Okay, you two, go play now." He scooted his youngest off towards the living room, then placed a hand on John's shoulder. "C'mon, I'll show you around."

The tour was brief, mostly the bathroom and small den that doubled as a guest room. Teresa already had linens set out for the convertible sofa. Buck had the bed made up in no time.

"If you wanna shave, I've got an electric razor you can borrow. You can sack out here," he told his guest. "Sleep as long as you want. Soon as my girls get off to school, I'm gonna hit the hay myself." He paused. John was staring at the bed, his face unreadable. Buck wondered again what this poor guy had been through to make him seem so unsure of himself and others. "It's gonna be all right, John," he said confidently. "You're safe here. Nobody's gonna hurt you." He walked to the door. "If you need anything at all, just ask Teresa, okay?"

John nodded. When he lifted his head, his dark eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Thank you," he managed to get out.

Buck nodded once, then walked out of the room, closing the door and allowing the man some privacy. He stood in the hall for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"Is he okay?"

Buck looked up to find Teresa standing beside him. She must have seen the turmoil in his face, for she reached out and brushed a hand down his cheek.

"Are you all right, Miguel?"

Buck pulled her into an embrace. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just beat. Let me kiss my girls, then I'm going to bed." He kissed his wife soundly. "Te quiero," he whispered in her ear.

* * *

It seemed to Buck that he'd barely laid his head on the pillow before he felt his shoulder being shaken and someone calling his name.

"Miguel... Miguel, wake up."

"Mmmm... wha..." He opened his eyes to see his wife bent over him. He sat up quickly, thinking something must have happened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing... don't worry. Chief Pratt is here is all. He wants to talk to you."

"The chief?" Buck flopped back down on the bed and rubbed his hands over his face and up through his short cropped red hair. He blew out a deep breath. "Okay, hon, I figured he'd be here sooner or later. Lemme throw some water on my face." He swung his legs out of bed. "How's John doing?"

"Still sleeping." Teresa shook her head. "Pobrecito, he was having bad dreams. I could hear him crying, but I didn't know if I should try and wake him up."

Buck rose and got himself dressed, trying not to dwell on what could make a man cry in his sleep. He pulled on his shirt. "Just let him sleep," he advised as he walked into the bathroom. "Tell the chief I'll be right out."

A few minutes later, Buck walked into his living room and shook hands with his boss. "Hey, Chief," he greeted. "I was expecting you to show up sometime."

Harlan Pratt had been police chief of Tulare for twenty years. Tall and lean, with a thick head of silver hair, he looked younger than his sixty one years. He was a practical man, ready to listen to his men when he felt they might have insight into a situation, but he could also be hard nosed when it came to things he felt strongly about. Buck had a great respect for the older man, and they had a good working relationship. The chief gave Buck a lot of leeway because of his years of experience in Los Angeles.

"Well, I wanted to let you sleep, but I need to know what's happening with this John Doe you found."

Buck glanced at the clock and saw it was after 1:00. The chief really had let him sleep quite a while, all things considered. He motioned for his boss to take a seat on the couch and Buck settled down into the old wooden rocker.

"How much did Bailey tell you?"

The chief shrugged his thin shoulders. "Just that you picked this guy up this morning and you have no idea who he is." The older man chuckled. "I had to order Bailey to go home. That boy may lack a little in the social graces, but he's like a dog with a bone when you give him something to do. He was gonna sit there and go through flyers 'til he dropped."

Buck laughed softly, knowing his boss was probably right.

"Well, Chief," Buck began. "It's pretty much like Bailey told ya. I found him wandering, but he wasn't drunk. Only thing he's told us so far is his name is John." Buck leaned forward intently. "One thing I'm certain of, somebody's been using him for a whipping post. His back is scarred up something fierce... some of 'em newly healed. He's got a bum leg and he's half-starved... but I don't think he's a nut case. I think he must've fallen into somebody's hands... somebody pretty bad. He's got some scars on his ribs, too, that look an awful lot like they were made with some kind of knife."

Chief Pratt shook his head. "I hope we're not dealing with any of those psychos like that Manson gang." He pulled at his chin thoughtfully. "You know, if anybody local was missing, we woulda heard about it."

"He's not from around here," Buck agreed.

"Can I meet him?" the older man asked curiously.

"He's sleeping right now, but I can let you take peek at him."

Buck led his boss down the hall and carefully opened up the door to the den. John was curled up in a fetal position, his mop of dark hair contrasting sharply with the white pillowcase. He must have shaved, and without all the stubble he looked younger than Buck had first thought.

"Looks like he might be part Injun," Pratt commented in a low voice. "I should check with the Tribal Council down in Porterville. Maybe they're missing one of their boys. You know how closed mouthed they can be."

Buck felt his mouth draw into a tight line. One of the few drawbacks of living here was some of the small town bigotries toward other races. Even the chief wasn't completely without it. Buck pulled the door closed and led his boss back into the living room.

"I'm sure it's worth asking them," he conceded as they sat down again. "But for some reason, I don't think he's from anywhere around here."

Chief Pratt mulled that over for a moment. "Well, you're usually right on with your instincts, Buck. You should probably have him checked out by a doctor, though. Maybe take him over to Visalia."

"I'm afraid taking him to a big hospital might spook him," Buck replied. "I was thinking of having Doc Watson come by and look him over, at least for now."

The chief nodded approval. Glen Watson was a semi-retired general practitioner who ran Tulare's small clinic. For anything serious, there was the bigger city of Visalia, which boasted a hospital and several busy medical establishments, and for major trauma or illness, Fresno was less than twenty five miles away. Most of Doctor Watson's business dealt with children's ear infections and sore throats, the aches and pains of the elderly and the few hypochondriacs who made this town their home, but Glen was a good and caring physician.

"Good idea. Let Glen take a look at him. You think your man will let you take his picture? We can circulate it around the county."

"I'll see when he wakes up," Buck agreed. "I wanna take it slow and easy with him."

The chief nodded once, and rose from the couch. "Okay, Buck, we'll play it your way. Let me know if I can help in any way."

"Sure thing, Chief." Buck walked his boss to the front door. "I'll keep you posted," he promised as the Chief started down the walk.

Buck closed the door and took moment to lean against it, his troubled thoughts focused on the man asleep in his guest room.

* * *

The rest of the day was uneventful. John woke up around the same time as Sylvia got home from school, and the girls claimed his attention for the rest of the afternoon. Buck didn't interfere and didn't make any demands on their guest's time. Being with the children seemed to put John at ease, whereas too many questions only caused the man to withdraw into that frightened silence Buck had first encountered. He even decided to put off calling Doc Watson, at least until tomorrow. He wanted to allow John as much time to feel comfortable with them before placing him in any stressful situations.

By the time they were all gathered around the table for dinner, Buck could tell John was beginning to relax. He was answering more questions, still with one or two word responses, but Buck held out hope that, given enough time and encouragement, John would feel safe enough to open up a little more. At the moment though, Teresa's fried chicken was holding everyone's attention. With the exception of the baby, this was his family's favorite and John seemed to be enjoying it as well. Buck was pleased to see his wife serving their guest second helpings. The man definitely needed a few home cooked meals under his belt.

As Buck was reaching for his third piece of chicken, the door bell rang unexpectedly. Buck started to get up, but Teresa waved him to stay in his seat since she was already up.

"Keep eating, Miguel," she said firmly. "I'll send whoever it is away." She wiped her hands on a towel and kept muttering to herself about thoughtless people who interrupt dinner as she headed to the front door. The bell rang again insistently before Teresa could even get there.

Buck heard the door open and his wife's surprised voice.

"Jeff! What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Teresa," Bailey apologized excitedly, and Buck had to smile. All his coworkers knew his wife's feelings on family time. He decided to give Bailey a break and rescue him.

"In here, kid," Buck called and could just imagine the look the rookie got from Teresa as he rushed into the kitchen.

"Hey, Buck." Bailey glanced around the table, smiled at the kids, but paused when he noticed John sitting silently at the table. The young officer turned back to Buck. "Sorry to bother you, but I kinda need to see ya... private like." Bailey jerked his head toward the living room.

Buck knew at once by Bailey's behavior, that this was about John. The gangly young man had a barely suppressed air of anticipation about him and looked like he was close to bursting if he didn't get to talk. Buck scooted back his chair.

"Okay, kid." He caught his wife's disapproving look and winked at her. "I won't be long," he promised. Then he followed Bailey into the living room and stood facing the younger man. "What's so important that it couldn't wait til tomorrow?"

"Geeze, Buckie, when you get a feeling, you really do it up right. I looked through all those flyers at the station, til the Chief made me go home. There wasn't anything there anyway. You know, we never get all the info we're supposed to. So I went home and slept for a couple hours, but I couldn't stay asleep. So I drove up to Fresno to see what they had." The look Bailey gave Buck was full of awestruck admiration. "You hit the jackpot." He shoved a flyer out for Buck to see.

There was a picture of John, but looking far healthier and happier than the man at the dinner table. He was wearing a light blue uniform shirt and a cocky grin on his face. Buck read the info and gave a low whistle. It was satisfying that his hunch had been proven right, but he couldn't help comparing the man in the picture to the poor, frightened soul he'd found wandering the street.

"There's the name of the detective in charge," Buck pointed out, more to himself than Bailey. "Looks like it was still active as of," he checked the date of the flyer, "as of February."

That in itself was a good sign. If there was still somebody working this kind of a case after a year and half, somebody must want this guy back pretty damn bad.

"You call the number?" he asked.

Bailey shook his head. "I didn't think that was my place. You found him. And I didn't know if we should check with the Chief first."

Buck nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess we better do this by the book." He glanced over his shoulder to where his family was waiting for him. "Give me a minute and I'll go down to the station with you."

* * *

When Buck returned to his house several hours later, he found everything quiet. The girls were most likely in bed already, and he knew Teresa was probably upset with him for being gone so long, but there hadn't been any way around it. They'd had to find Chief Pratt, who was at his mother-in-law's house for dinner, then wait for him to come down to the station house, then try and track down this Lieutenant Crockett with the Los Angeles County Sheriff's office. They'd gotten a lot of run around and were finally told the Detective was gone for the day. Buck didn't want to leave a message of this sensitive nature, so they'd had a conference and decided to wait and try again in the morning. All in all, it had been a frustrating evening.

Buck found Teresa watching television in the living room. She had the volume low, and she glanced up and smiled at him as he entered the room. He sighed, glad she wasn't too mad at him.

"Any luck?" she asked as he sat down beside her.

Buck shook his head. "Not really. The guy wasn't in his office. We'll call in the morning." The officer glanced around. "Where's John?"

Teresa's face grew worried. "He went to bed. I know he was tired, but I think he was more concerned that you weren't here. That poor man. I think you were right, Miguel. Someone was very cruel to him to make him so, so..." Teresa struggle to find the words in English, then she shrugged, unable to express herself.

Buck squeezed her hand. "I know, querida. He's a lost soul right now. But hopefully we can help him find his way home.

* * *

Joanne DeSoto stood looking out the window into the back yard as she cleaned up the kitchen after their late breakfast. Roy had come home beat after being out most of the night on a fire, and had crashed for a couple of hours before he'd even thought of eating. It was now nearly ten and she was just now finishing the dishes.

Chris and Jenny were at school, though Easter vacation started next week. The weather was mild and they'd made plans to take the kids to Disneyland. They hadn't been in at least two years, it was nearly Jennifer's birthday, and it seemed like a good time to make a visit to the Magic Kingdom.

Joanne smiled at the memory of how excited the kids had gotten when she and Roy had mentioned the possibility. Chris was eleven and a half, Jenny just shy of nine, and both kids had been lobbying to be treated like the grown ups they felt they were. But their newfound maturity had disappeared instantly and they'd talked about nothing else for days now.

The trip would be a first for the newest member of their family. Joanne watched as one year old Melissa tottered toward Roy on unsteady feet, her arms outstretched, her face beaming at her accomplishment. This dark headed bundle of energy had been a complete surprise. Many years earlier, both Joanne and Roy had come to an unspoken understanding that their family was complete. But while she had been unexpected, and a new baby something they had to get accustomed to, Missy was welcomed into their family with as much love as either Chris or Jenny.

Joanne dried her hands, hung up the towel and wandered over to the screen door that opened out onto the deck. Roy was laying back on one of the chaise lounges, his arms holding Missy suspended above him. Judging from the noises Roy was making and the delighted giggles coming from the baby, they were playing airplane.

Joanne felt a lump rise in her throat at the sight of the two of them, and she had to wipe away an errant tear. There was another reason she'd always be grateful for having this little girl in their lives. She'd brought joy back to Roy's soul. Those dark days that Joanne had feared would last forever had lightened. Not that the pain would ever completely disappear, not for anyone in their family. They'd all been touched by the tragedy, but none so deeply as Roy, and Joanne had begun to despair that her husband would ever be able to climb out of the pit of guilt and grief he'd buried himself in. But with Missy's birth, the sun had peeked out from behind the storm clouds and, little by little, Roy's heart had healed.

Joanne knew the children had taken their cue from their dad, and when they saw him smiling and laughing again, they knew it was okay for them to have those feelings, too. After a long, painful year, the entire family was on the road to recovery.

Roy caught sight of Joanne and got up with Missy in his arms.

"Look who's done in the kitchen," he baby-talked as he walked over and slipped an arm around Joanne's waist. "Thanks for breakfast, hon," he told her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I think I'll see if this little one will go down for a nap before lunch, then maybe I'll put Mommy to bed." He grinned slyly.

"I'll hold you to that," Joanne laughed. They both knew that since the baby had come most of their "naps" never materialized for one reason or another. She reached out and brushed Missy's unruly hair away from her face. "You be good for Papa, Missy Jo, and go night night."

The baby waved her arms at Joanne and babbled "ni ni", her customary response. Joanne kissed her, and Roy started up the stairs.

The phone rang and Joanne picked it up, almost laughing at the timing. She would have to tell Roy "I told you so" if this was the Department calling him in to cover for somebody.

"Hello, DeSoto's," she answered.

"Hi, Joanne, it's Ron."

The smile vanished from Joanne's face and her throat grew tight. It had been over a month since he had called and she had begun to hope they would never hear from him again.

"Hi," she greeted dully, trying to cover her emotions. The situation wasn't this man's fault. He just happened to always be the messenger. "I guess you want to talk to Roy."

"If he's there."

"Sure, I'll get him." Joanne set the phone down and walked slowly to the bottom of the stairs. Roy was just coming down. Joanne had to resist the temptation to ignore the call. She knew that as soon as she told her husband who wanted to talk to him, the light would leave his eyes. But she couldn't do that. Roy would never have forgiven her.

"Phone's for you," she told him.

"Okay," he acknowledged. He started to breeze past her, and she grabbed his arm.

"It's Crockett," she stated softly and cringed when she saw that look come into his eyes. One word - one name, and all the pain was there again.

"Oh." Roy paused for a beat, then continued over to pick up the phone. He took a moment to collect himself. Joanne knew how hard this was on Roy and for an instant she hated the man on the other end.

"Yeah, Lieutenant. What's up?"

Joanne watched as Roy listened, wondering what bit of trivial nothing the man had called to tell them this time. What update of absolutely no worth had he disrupted their lives to give them. She hated the bitterness she'd developed over the months and months of the investigation, but she couldn't help it. It was Crockett's choice to carry on a one man crusade and never give up, but she wished with all her heart that he didn't feel the need to take Roy along with him on these hopeless quests.

That this phone call was different from the countless others was apparent to Joanne the minute she saw the color leave Roy's face. She reached for him as he fell back against the stairs, sinking down onto them as if he had no strength left in his legs.

"Roy? Honey, what is it?"

He didn't answer. He sat in silence for a long time, the phone still clutched in his hand.

"Roy? Roy... tell me," she begged, silently pleading not to hear the words she knew Crockett must have said. After all this time, there could only have been one end.

The voice on the line was saying something, and Roy suddenly came back to himself. He straightened up and spoke into the phone again.

"Yeah, I'm here. Yeah. Okay, I'll see ya then."

He tried to hang up the receiver, fumbled and finally got it on straight. When he at last turned his gaze to Joanne, she could see a myriad of emotions in his blue eyes.

"Roy?" As much as she didn't want to hear it, she knew he would have to tell her, and that maybe, after all, it would actually be a blessing to finally have some closure.

His face was unreadable for the longest time. He tried to speak, had to clear his throat before he could get the words out.

"They found Johnny."

There it was. The news they'd dreaded for so long. Joanne felt tears well up in her eyes, the grief raw, even after all these months. She reached for her husband's hand, ready to give him whatever support he would need.

"Oh, Roy," she whispered, then stopped.

Roy didn't look sad. In fact, the faint traces of a smile were lifting the corners of his mouth, hesitantly, as if he was afraid to let the expression loose.

"Roy? Roy, what is it? What's happened?"

Roy looked at her and she could see his eyes were filled, but not with the tears of sorrow she'd expected.

"He's alive," he whispered softly. "Jo... he's alive. Johnny's alive." His voice broke and he grabbed her into an embrace, giving in at last and letting the smile and the tears come.

* * *

Roy hung his arm out the open window of Lieutenant Ron Crockett's '69 Mustang and drummed his fingers nervously on the side of the car door. It was already warm, and would get warmer as they neared Bakersfield and headed into the Central Valley. Shortly, the wind whipping through his hair would no longer have a cooling effect. Already Roy missed Carson and its proximity to the ocean. It kept even the hottest days of summer to a bearable level. He didn't know how anybody lived out here.

He leaned back against the headrest. The detective had stopped by the DeSoto home around noon to pick Roy up for the trip, and the couple of hours between receiving the phone call and when Crockett had pulled into the driveway had seemed the longest of Roy's life. He did manage to call Dr. Brackett and alert him to what was happening and to make arrangements to bring Johnny in for an examination, but apart from that, most of what he'd had to do was sit around and wait. He'd thought it was bad then, but now his patience was being tried even more. There was absolutely nothing he could do to make this trip go faster. He couldn't get to Johnny any sooner than Crockett's car would take him.

Roy glanced over at his companion. The black detective kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Roy knew he had to be feeling a lot of different emotions, not the least of which was probably vindication for all those months of sticking to the case and not caving into pressure from the brass to close it and mark it unsolved.

Roy's own emotions were all over the map: from disbelief to joy to anxiety, and even anger. Anger at the sick bastard who caused it all, who took Johnny and hurt him in ways Roy was afraid to find out. Their information was sketchy. The police in Tulare hadn't gone into particulars, but Roy didn't have to be told to know that his friend wouldn't come out of this ordeal unscathed.

No matter how hard he tried not to, Roy couldn't help wondering what might have happened to Johnny during the last year and a half, what hell his best friend had suffered through because of Johnny's personal sense of loyalty and willingness to sacrifice himself to save his friend and partner.

Roy closed his eyes. They had at least two more hours of driving on this trip. Two more hours of doing nothing but sitting and thinking, thinking about the events that led up to that day - that horrendous day.

* * *

The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the clean up crews from L.A. County Fire Stations 36, 10 and 51. The fire had been a stubborn one, ending up claiming two large industrial buildings before it was beaten. The only good thing about the incident was that because it was Sunday, there had only been a few security personnel on the property and no one inside the buildings themselves. As a result, no one had been injured. Now, after several hours battling the blaze, most of the companies had been released. The three crews remaining were mopping up.

John Gage paused in his work and wiped an arm across his sweat-streaked forehead. His and Roy's paramedic services hadn't been needed this run, although if everybody was sweltering as much as Johnny, he was positive they'd be summoned to treat a few cases of heat exhaustion. The turnouts that were designed to protect him from the flames unfortunately trapped his body heat and perspiration inside and by now were acting like his own personal sauna. Under his helmet, his normally shaggy dark hair was plastered to his head. He wanted to take the blasted thing off, but there were two other captains besides his own on the scene, and Chief McConnike was still hanging around as well. It wasn't that Johnny cared that much about getting barked at about rules and regulations, but he didn't want his actions to reflect badly on Cap. So, he kept his helmet on and went back to sifting through the still-smoking ruins.

"Hey, Gage, you take more breaks than my grandma."

Johnny glanced up to glare at Chet Kelly, too tired to even try and think of a comeback. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

"You're one to talk, Chet. I saw you leaning pretty heavy on your shovel a few minutes ago," Marco observed, and Johnny couldn't keep back a giggle that Kelly had been put down by his own buddy.

"Oh, funny, Marco," Chet retorted. "I'll have you know, I was adjusting the handle."

"Sure you were, Chet, sure you were."

"Hey, I was just pointing out that Gage and DeSoto have gotten soft, man. They almost never have to do any of the real work."

Johnny rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain. Even though he knew Kelly was baiting him, he couldn't keep back a retort. "Oh yeah, Chet, well next time we have to jump into the ocean out of a helicopter, you can do it. See how much you like getting beat up against the rocks."

"At least that'd be cooler than this," Kelly argued.

"Try doing it in the middle of winter," Roy suggested dryly. "You'd be begging to be at a fire just to get warm."

Johnny laughed and high-fived his partner. Naturally more reticent, Roy didn't ordinarily enter into these debates.

"Okay, okay," Chet conceded, "But how often do you guys have to do that? Two, maybe three times a year? All I'm saying's that real firefighters work a lot harder than paramedics."

The banter continued as the men all continued working. Johnny took some consolation in the fact that everyone else looked as bad as he felt; hot, tired, covered with soot and sweat. They all probably smelled awful as well, but so far the acrid odor of smoke and charred wood was all his nose could detect. The thought of standing under a cool shower back at the station served as an added incentive to get this mop up job done.

Johnny wiped his arm across his forehead again and stuck his pike pole into the nearest pile of rubble. He paused when he felt the soft resistance to his probe and stooped down to see what he'd found. He lifted a long piece of scorched drywall and shoved it aside.

"Aw, damn." The paramedic's shoulders slumped wearily. Sticking out from under the debris was part of a badly burned human leg. "Roy?" Johnny called, and motioned for his partner to join him.

Roy picked his way over, the parts of his fair face that weren't streaked with soot were flushed with the heat. "Whatcha got?" he asked, then didn't need an answer as he saw what Johnny had uncovered. Roy's tired face grew somber as he pulled out his HT.

Johnny began uncovering the rest of the victim, only half listening as his partner notified Cap that they had a Code F. As soon as Roy was done, he bent down to give Johnny a hand. Marco and Chet had noticed something was going on and made their way over.

"Damn," Kelly muttered at the grisly sight. "They told us nobody was in here." He stooped to help with the soggy debris.

"Maybe a vagrant," Roy offered as he hefted aside a half burnt timber. "Some poor guy nobody knew was here."

With the four of them working, it took only a few minutes before they had the lower half of the victim uncovered. Most of the clothing had been burned away and from the condition of the body, Johnny didn't think they'd have much chance of making an ID on the poor guy.

"John? Roy? You get him out?"

Johnny looked up to see Captain Stanley standing over them, a concerned look on his lean features. Stoker was with him as well, carrying a stokes and a body bag. They had both been out with Big Red, packing hose and getting her ready for the trip back to the barn.

"Not yet, Cap," Roy answered. "There's a lot of junk that came down on top of him."

"I notified headquarters and the police. I'm sure they'll have a forensics team out here. They said to try not to disturb the scene too much."

"Yeah, right, Cap," Chet snorted. They'd already moved aside a large amount of rubble.

Johnny shook his head. "They'll have to just try and... Shit." His eyes had caught sight of something he didn't want to see. He leaned forward and reached under a piece of wall board, pushing it aside. His hands could reach the torso now, and he felt the tough canvas material that had managed to survive the fire that had killed the man wearing it. A knot suddenly formed in his gut as he recognized what it was. He sat back on heels, swiping his arm across his forehead.

Roy leaned closer to his partner. "Johnny... what's wrong?"

The dark haired paramedic pointed at what he'd uncovered. "Turnouts," he whispered, cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Turnouts. Cap, he's one of ours."

There was a long moment of disbelieving silence. Finally Cap spoke, his voice quiet, but firm.

"Let's get him out of there, guys."

They resumed their work with grim determination. This was no longer some unknown drunk or bum, some poor guy who wandered in for a warm place to sleep it off. This was family, a brother, and though they didn't know his name or what company he was from, he deserved their best effort and respect.

It didn't take long for word to spread, and the men from 51 were joined by the other crews. They talked quietly among themselves as they pitched in to help, wondering who it was and why they hadn't heard someone was unaccounted for. Johnny listened to their questions, wondering the same thing himself. No engine company would have left the fire scene with a man missing. It didn't make sense.

One last piece of ceiling was lifted off, freeing the fallen man completely.

"You ready to move him?" Cap asked quietly.

"Yeah," Roy answered in a weary voice. "Johnny, you got that end?"

The younger paramedic nodded and positioned himself at the feet, while Roy took the shoulders. Chet and Marco took the middle.

Carefully, so not to risk damaging the corpse any further, the men lifted together. In one motion they removed him from the debris, turning him face up to lay in the body bag.

"Holy..." Chet's expletive stopped short, but it was enough to make Johnny glance up.

He saw what they all could now see. The dead firefighter was burned beyond recognition, but it wasn't the condition of the body that caused Kelly's reaction. The victim's hands were cuffed together in front of him, the metal binders still intact, despite the intense heat of the fire.

For a long moment, it was deathly quiet as all the men stared in disbelief at what they'd uncovered. Finally, Captain Stanley cleared his throat and took charge.

"Okay, don't touch him anymore. This is definitely a police matter now. Marco, go get a blanket to cover him up." He pulled out his HT to report the new development.

Johnny stood where he was, unable to take his eyes from the gruesome scene. He couldn't even begin to come up with a reason why this poor guy should end up this way. As a firefighter, a part of his brain had always accepted the possibility of dying in a fire, but this was something completely different. This was unimaginable.

"You okay?"

Johnny felt Roy's hand on his shoulder and he turned to face his partner. He could see his own shock reflected in Roy's blue eyes. The younger paramedic nodded slowly.

"Yeah... I guess so. It's just so... so..." He shrugged, for once at a loss for words.

"I know what you mean," Roy agreed.

* * *

The ride back to the station was unnaturally quiet and Roy knew it was more than just how tired they both were. He glanced over at his partner. Johnny was leaning his head on his hand, his elbow propped up on the open passenger side window. They were both filthy. The call had come in around 5:30 this morning. A glance at his watch told him it was after 1:00. The whole crew had put in some major overtime. The only good thing was that B shift would have to do all the follow up work of making sure both the engine and squad were cleaned up, recharged, refueled, resupplied and ready to go again. All the weary members of A shift would have to do is shower, change and go home.

Roy took one hand off the wheel and rubbed at his tired, burning eyes. Maybe Chet was right. Maybe the years of being paramedics had worn down some of the edge. But Roy could still recall vividly the shocked faces of all the firefighters as they turned the man over, and he knew it wasn't just him and Johnny who had been affected by the sight.

They'd been ordered out of the rubble and all three crews had waited by their vehicles in eerie silence until the forensics team had shown up, followed by the arson squad and a seemingly endless number of plainclothes detectives. Roy supposed they each had a job to do, but it seemed to him like they were all running around the scene without any specific purpose.

Finally, McConnike released two of the three crews, keeping 14 on scene in case they were needed. It was with mixed feelings that the men left; grateful to be going home, yet anxious to find out what had happened to their unidentified brother.

Roy turned the corner onto 223^rd. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Big Red behind him. Mike was slowing down to allow the squad to back in first.

"We're home," Roy said quietly, as he maneuvered the truck into its familiar spot.

"Huh?" Johnny lifted his head, as if he'd been totally unaware of where they were. He glanced around and quickly realized they were at the station. The engine was backing noisily into place beside them. Johnny gave Roy a half hearted grin. "Sorry. I guess I was day dreaming."

Roy knew that wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't press it. What was there to say anyway?

"I guess we better take a number for the shower," he chuckled.

Johnny rolled his eyes as he reached for the door. "If Chet gets in there, the rest of us'll be takin' cold showers. You know he hogs all the hot water." He got out of the squad and shut the door.

Roy got out as well, listening as Johnny continued on about Chet's lack of manners. The comments only got louder as the engine crew climbed down from Big Red and Chet started protesting the attack on his character. Roy smiled to himself. That was the way of it, he supposed. Pretend it hadn't happened. It was better than the alternative, sitting around feeling depressed about something you had no control over.

The guys from B shift had come out to greet them, and to see what work awaited them. Roy happily turned the squad over to Michaels.

"You're gonna need some Ringers," he told the tall, blond paramedic, who looked disgustingly clean to Roy's bleary eyes. "Oh, and some syringes, too."

"We got it, Roy," Kevin told him and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Go take a shower and go home."

Roy gave the man a grateful nod and followed after his shift mates. He passed Cap's office on the way and saw him talking to B shift's captain. He figured Cap would probably be here doing paperwork long after the rest of them had headed home to hit the sack.

The shower was going full blast when Roy entered the locker room. He counted noses and figured Marco had won the toss to go first. Mike, Chet and Johnny were all sitting on the benches, in various stages of undress. It was pretty quiet. Evidently, Chet and Johnny's argument had run out of steam. Roy found a place on the bench next to his partner and dropped the suspenders on his bunker pants. With the call coming so early in the morning, none of them wore more than their underwear under their turnouts, which probably had been a big blessing, considering how hot it was. Marco came out of the shower stall, a towel wrapped around his waist. Chet stepped up to take his turn without even bothering to gloat at Johnny. If Roy hadn't known before just how worn out everyone was, that alone would have told him.

"I'd sure like to know who the genius was who only put one shower in a firehouse," Roy remarked with a shake of his head. It was a longstanding complaint, and Roy hoped bringing it up would serve to lighten the mood of the locker room.

His comment elicited a few snorts and rolled eyes, but little else. Roy glanced at his partner. Johnny could always be counted on for at least twenty minutes of harangue on the subject of showers, but the younger man sat silent, barefooted and bare-chested, still wearing his canvas pants. A little concerned, Roy leaned over and nudged his friend.

"Earth to Johnny."

Johnny turned to Roy, his face blank for a moment. Then he suddenly straightened up. "What? Oh, sorry, Roy. I was just thinkin'."

"I know," Roy said, almost wishing Chet was out of the shower and ready with some smart alek come back. "But there's not much any of us can do. I figure McConnike will let us know when he finds out who the guy was and what happened to him."

"Roy's right, Johnny," Marco put in. He was pulling his t-shirt over his head. "We don't even know for sure the guy was really a fireman. I mean, anybody coulda put that coat on him."

Johnny shook his head. "Fireman or not, he was still a person." His dark eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend something none of them ever could. "I mean, what would make somebody do that?"

The shower opened at that moment and Chet walked out, his curly hair dripping onto his face. "Do what?" he asked as he shook his head, spraying them all with drops of water.

"Hey," Johnny protested indignantly. "What are you, Chet, a cocker spaniel?"

"Ha, ha, Gage," Chet replied, catching the spare towel Roy tossed him and rubbing his hair vigorously. "If anything, I'm an Irish Setter," he claimed proudly.

"Yeah? Well, that still makes you a dog," Johnny shot back as he walked past Chet and headed in to take his turn.

"Oh, funny, Gage, very funny," Chet answered.

Roy caught his partner's amused snicker right before the water turned on and was relieved that Johnny's spirits had lifted enough to give Kelly a hard time.

Johnny didn't take long, but Chet and Marco were both gone by the time he got out. Roy still had to wait for Mike and was almost tempted to just go home and clean up there, but knew Joanne hated it when he brought the smell of smoke into the house. He glanced at his watch. Nearly 2:00. None of the guys had dawdled, but at this rate, Roy didn't figure he'd get home much before three o'clock. He knew Joanne wouldn't be worried. There were plenty of times when he'd pulled overtime. She knew that if something bad happened she'd get a phone call. They very seldom planned anything important for his first day off shift. Big plans were left for day number two.

"So, ya got anything going on?" he asked Johnny as his partner pulled on clean clothes.

Johnny chuckled. "Not for the next ten or twelve hours, I don't," he stated emphatically. "I plan on getting reacquainted with my bed. Tomorrow, I don't know for sure. Kathy has to work 'til 3:00."

Kathy was Johnny's latest fling, though Roy supposed he should stop thinking of her in that way. The two had been dating for several months now. Roy wasn't sure how Kathy felt about a long term relationship, but Johnny seemed pretty smitten.

"You wanna come over for dinner? Bring Kathy if you want. The kids told me the other day they hadn't seen you in forever." Roy knew forever for Chris and Jenny could be as short a time as a few days, but it was true, since Johnny had been dating Kathy, they'd seen less of him.

"Sounds good to me," Johnny replied through the shirt he was pulling over his head. "I'll check with Kath and let ya know." He quickly tied his shoes, ran his fingers through his wet hair in a half hearted attempt to comb it and slipped on his sunglasses. He slapped Roy on the back and gave him a grin. "I'm outta here, Pally," he stated. "Hope Mike doesn't use the last of the hot water."

"Yeah, yeah," Roy grumbled good naturedly. They'd all had their turns at being last, and with as hot as the weather was, he really didn't care if he had to stand under a cold shower.

* * *

Johnny walked through the door of his apartment, glad he'd finally made it home. He was bone weary. The early morning fire hadn't been his and Roy's only call to interrupt their night's sleep. They'd had a man with chest pains around midnight. Fortunately for the guy, he'd only eaten too much pizza before he'd gone to bed. The next call had come in at 1:45 and was more serious. A single car roll over on Artesia. A couple of years ago, state funds had run out and construction of the 91 stopped, turning the freeway into a highway with only a few warning signs. Most motorists forgot to slow down and Station 51 had responded to more than a few calls on that stretch of road. The driver last night had broken several bones, but was alive when they left him at Rampart.

They'd finally gotten back to the station around 3:30. A couple hours later the call had come in for the fire.

Once more the image of the dead fireman flashed through Johnny's mind. He'd seen his share of dead bodies, but there was just something unsettling about the way this one had been found. The paramedic ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair, as if he could somehow brush the image out of his memory, but it didn't seem to help. He thought about calling Roy. His partner was always ready with a listening ear, and Johnny found talking things out usually helped when he was stressed about something.

He glanced at the clock and decided against it. Poor Roy had been last in the shower and was probably only now getting home. The last thing he'd want would be to have his yappy partner bug him with a phone call while he was trying to catch some sleep. They'd probably see each other tomorrow anyway, and that would be soon enough to talk about stuff.

Johnny blew out a tired breath and walked into the kitchen, tossing his keys on the table. He debated whether or not to eat before he sacked out. Opening the fridge and not finding anything edible made up his mind for him.

Guess I'll order a pizza later, he decided.

As he shut the refrigerator door, he spied the small note taped there. He pulled it off, recognizing Kathy's neat handwriting.

Johnny was sorry she'd been worried, but he was kind of glad she wasn't here right now. He wouldn't have to try and stay awake. He'd call her later. Maybe she'd want to come over and share his pizza - among other things. The corners of his mouth lifted at that thought, and he walked into the bedroom wearing a goofy sort of smile.

He quickly stripped down to his boxers, and climbed into bed. It was hot and he didn't need the sheet. As Johnny shifted his pillows, settling down for a nice, long sleep, he caught the faint scent of perfume. The smile on his face grew wider at the memory of the other night. He hadn't had a chance to change the sheets yet, and he was glad. Visions of Kathy, her long, dark hair and deep blue eyes filled his mind. Now, he could fall asleep with warm, beautiful memories in his thoughts instead of the ugliness he'd left behind at the fire scene.

* * *

Roy had been right. By the time he'd showered, changed and driven home, it was nearly 3:00. The station wagon wasn't in the garage, so he knew Joanne and the kids wouldn't be home. The note on the fridge only confirmed it. He plucked it off the fire truck magnet and read through it.

As much as he loved his family, Roy was rather glad no one was here. All he wanted to do was find his bed and fall into it.

His stomach chose that moment to remind him he hadn't eaten at all today, so he paused long enough to grab one of the sandwiches Jo had made. He had it half devoured before he even noticed what kind it was. Ham and Swiss, one of his favorites. He almost grabbed the other one, but decided they'd be eating dinner soon enough, he could wait. He downed a full glass of ice water in a few gulps, then headed upstairs, shedding clothes as he went.

He had no trouble falling asleep. Joanne had long ago put a heavy backing on their bedroom curtains to keep the daylight out, so the late afternoon sun wasn't ever a problem. He didn't get the few hours of deep, relaxing sleep that he'd been hoping for, however. His dreams were disturbing, filled with images of burned firemen and a crazy man laughing wildly while Roy and his shift mates searched frantically for somebody buried in the rubble.

The first time he woke, he was covered in sweat and gasping for air. A quick glance at the clock caused him to groan in dismay. He'd been asleep for less than an hour. The weary paramedic lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, consciously working to relax. It took a few minutes, but he was at last able to drift off again.

The second time he opened his eyes, it was hunger that drove him. He rubbed at his face and again checked the clock. This time it was after 6:00. That was better. Enough to hold him for now, but not so much that he wouldn't be able to go to sleep tonight. He sat up and swung his feet to the side of the bed and took a deep breath.

The tantalizing smell of barbecuing chicken brought him all the way awake. Joanne's usual mode of cooking on a hot day was to do it on the grill, and that suited Roy just fine. His stomach rumbled loudly, prompting him to pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and head downstairs.

The homey sounds that greeted him brought a smile to his face. Chris was hollering from outside that the chicken was done. Roy heard the screen slide open and knew Joanne had gone outside to retrieve their dinner. The clink of plates and silverware told him Jenny was setting the table. As Roy turned the corner and entered the dining room, his daughter lifted her blonde head from her task and spied him. She broke into a huge grin and rushed to greet him.

"Hi, Daddy!" Her voice was muffled slightly from her face being pressed into his stomach as she hugged him tightly.

"Hi, punkin," he answered and reached down to pick her up. "Oooh," he groaned loudly and pretended his back hurt. "You're growing so much, Daddy won't be able to do this much longer."

It was an old joke between them and Jenny giggled at his teasing, but Roy knew in his heart that his seven and a half year old daughter really was growing faster than he wanted. There would come a day when she wouldn't clamor to be picked up, so for now he enjoyed the moment.

"Hi, honey," Joanne greeted from the patio.

Roy set Jennifer down. The two of them moved outside and onto the deck.

"Hi, Dad," Chris called from the barbecue. "I'm helping Mom cook dinner."

"I can see that," Roy observed as he walked down the steps. He reached out and ruffled his son's blond hair, then slipped an arm through Joanne's waist and briefly nuzzled her neck. "Smells good."

"What, me or the chicken?" Joanne laughed.

"Both," Roy answered and reached down to give her a quick peck on the cheek before he took the platter from her. "I'll carry this," he offered.

"Let me do it, Dad," Chris begged and Roy reluctantly handed the delicious smelling meat over to his nine year old son. "Just be careful," he cautioned.

"I will," Chris promised and walked slowly up the steps to the deck.

Roy smiled at how grown up his son was becoming and once more slipped his hand around his wife's waist. Together the followed after Chris.

"Was it a bad one?" Joanne asked softly.

Roy shrugged. "Bad enough. I'll tell you about it after dinner."

Joanne nodded her understanding. They'd developed a kind of code over the years. If Roy felt his day at the fire station wasn't something the kids needed to hear, he would wait until later, after they'd gone to bed, before he would discuss it with Joanne.

The chicken was the last thing ready, so they were soon all seated at the table and digging into dinner. The next few minutes passed quietly, but the silence was soon broken.

"Did you ask Uncle Johnny to come over?" Jennifer asked as she wiped her greasy hands on a napkin.

"Yeah, Dad," Chris joined in. "What did he say?"

"I asked him," Roy answered. "He said he'd have to check with Kathy first."

Roy saw his kid's faces fall. They were so used to having his partner as their own personal plaything, that it was hard for them to share him with someone else. And in Jennifer's case, it was harder because that someone happened to be a female.

"Hey, he didn't say no," he reminded them. "He said it sounded like fun. He just needed to see if Kathy wanted to come, too."

Chris seemed okay with that, and he resumed eating. But Jenny's expression had deteriorated into a full blown pout.

"How come she has to come?" the little girl complained.

"Jennifer," Joanne reminded in a firm voice. "Her name is Kathy, and you need to be nice."

Jenny blew out a long suffering sigh and picked up her fork. Roy glanced at his wife, but she shook her head. She obviously didn't want to go into it further in front of the kids. Roy was more than a little curious. This was the first indication he'd had that Jennifer didn't like Johnny's girlfriend. For once, he disregarded his wife's signal and decided to press the issue.

"What's wrong with Kathy?" he asked, purposefully not meeting Joanne's eyes as he heard her clear her throat.

"Aw, Jen's just jealous," Chris teased, but fell silent at his mother's glare.

"I am not!" Jenny declared hotly. "Uncle Johnny's had lots of girlfriends before, and I didn't care when he brought them here."

Roy reached over to lay his hand on top of Jennifer's in an effort to calm her. She glanced up, and he saw real tears in her big blue eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked gently.

Jenny swiped at her eyes and sniffed, trying not to cry. "I don't know," she started hesitantly. "I don't think she likes us very much."

Roy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. To his knowledge, Kathy had never been anything but nice to any of his family. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment, then finally spoke up. "She never wants to stay here," she said sadly. "She's always buggin' Uncle Johnny to go when they're here and he's havin' fun with us."

Roy had to fight to keep a straight face. Obviously, Kathy had committed a grievous offense in Jennifer's eyes if the woman wanted to take Johnny away from all the fun he was having with a seven year old girl.

"Jennifer Lynn," Joanne spoke up. "Has Kathy ever done anything mean to you?"

Jenny's eyes fell to the table and Roy knew mother and daughter had gone over this before.

"No," she answered quietly.

"And has she ever said one bad thing to you or about you?"

Jenny shook her head. "No," she breathed out in exasperation.

"Then I don't want to hear any more about this. She's Uncle Johnny's friend and you will be nice to her."

"Okaaaayyy," Jenny drawled slowly. "Can I be excused please."

Roy glanced at his daughter's plate. Most of her dinner was gone, and he nodded his permission. Jenny took her plate into the kitchen and Roy heard her stomp upstairs.

"Me too, please?" Chris asked. He showed his empty plate to both his parents, then carried it to the sink. In a few minutes, the television could be heard from the living room.

Roy took a few moments to finish his dinner, then glanced up to catch Joanne's eyes. Surprisingly, she didn't look angry with him.

"Sorry," he apologized anyway. It never hurt to have credit built up in that department. "I just wanted to get to the bottom of it."

"I know," Joanne answered. She got up and started clearing the table. Roy moved to help her. "It's only that I just had that entire conversation with her yesterday. I didn't want to rehash it."

Years of habit found them each at a side of the sink; Joanne washing and Roy drying. They worked in companionable silence for a few moments.

"So," Roy finally spoke. "Do you think she really is just jealous of Kathy?"

"That's probably part of it." Joanne's mouth twisted in a thoughtful expression. She set down the platter she'd been washing and faced Roy. "Actually, though, I agree with her. Kathy doesn't like being here very much. It's obvious she'd rather she and Johnny were someplace else... alone."

Roy was confused now. "But, Jo... if she's right, then why..."

"Because, it's something Johnny and Kathy need to work out," Joanne explained patiently. "Look, Roy... Johnny is obviously comfortable being here... with us and Chris and Jenny. And I'm glad he feels that way. But if he can't see that his girlfriend isn't happy hanging around an old married couple and their kids... well, that's between the two of them. And it's not something that should be influenced by our daughter having a tantrum about it. I won't let Jennifer come between them."

Roy regarded his wife with something close to awe. "How do you do that?" he asked.

Joanne gave him an odd look. "Do what?"

Roy shrugged helplessly. "Figure life out like that."

Joanne gave a little laugh and shook her head. "It's not that hard, Roy. I'm not saying Kathy is going to turn out to be Johnny's one and only. Maybe she will, maybe she won't. But I'm thinking of Jennifer here, too. She's got to understand that one day Johnny will find somebody to settle down with and then he most likely won't be spending as much time here as he used to. Possibly that won't happen until Jenny's older and can understand better, but she needs to get used to the idea now, just in case. I don't want our little girl to end up hating some poor woman who she thinks stole her Uncle Johnny from her."

There seemed to be nothing else to say on the matter and they finished the dishes without any further conversation. When they were done, Roy wandered out to the deck and settled down in one of the chaise lounges. It was still light outside and the coastal breeze had cooled the air down to a pleasant level.

Joanne soon followed him out, handing him a bowl of ice cream as she pulled up a chair beside him.

"So, you want to tell me about your day? I saw the fire on the news. It looked pretty bad."

Roy didn't answer right away. He watched the sunset for a time before he turned to gaze at Joanne. His wife's blue eyes were focused on the sky as well and Roy took a moment to just look at her. Her dark hair framed her lovely face and just brushed her shoulders. She'd managed to keep her figure, even after two kids, though Roy knew sometimes it had been a struggle, and he loved her for her efforts. In fact, there wasn't anything about this woman he didn't love, and he thanked his lucky stars every day for that pretty little girl he'd fallen hard for in the fourth grade. He never felt like he'd missed out on anything by marrying his childhood sweetheart, and when he watched what Johnny, Chet and Marco went through playing the dating game, he was even more grateful he'd never had to experience it. Somehow he didn't think he'd be very good at it.

"Roy?"

He felt Jo's hand on his and he blinked back to the present. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking." He gave her a warm smile.

"I could tell." She squeezed his hand and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

"Hmmm... the fire." Roy shook his head. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. But we were told nobody was inside, so we just did a basic sweep. No big deal. Johnny and I didn't have anybody to treat, so we helped with the hoses." He paused, remembering the flame and heat and sweat. "Anyway," he resumed, "It took a few hours to get it all out. Then we had to stay and do the mop up. Johnny..." He stopped as a vivid image of the handcuffed corpse flashed through his mind. "That's when Johnny found a victim."

"Oh, Roy," Joanne murmured. "So somebody was working there?"

Roy slowly shook his head. "No. He wasn't an employee." Once more he paused as he tried to put the right words together. He rubbed at his eyes and could almost feel the soot that had been there earlier in the day. When he opened them again, he let them rest on the beauty of the setting sun.

"He was a fireman, Jo," Roy whispered.

He heard his wife's sharp intake of breath. They usually didn't let the specter of death loom over their house, but they both knew it was never far away.

"Was it someone we know?" Joanne asked softly.

Roy shook his head. "No. I don't even think he was from around here. Joanne..." Roy had to clear his throat before he could tell her the rest. "Jo... he didn't die fighting the fire. Somebody murdered him."

"What?" Joanne's voice rose louder than she meant it to, and she glanced around to be sure the kids were still out of earshot. "What are you saying?"

Roy turned to face her and met her gaze. "When we found him... he was handcuffed." Roy let out a heavy sigh. "The police are going to investigate, we don't know for sure what happened, but... but it looked like somebody purposefully dumped him in the fire. I guess it'll be up to the coroner to figure out if he was killed first or if he died in the fire."

Roy fell silent. The sun was gone now, sunk below their line of sight, the rest of the track of houses in their neighborhood cutting off the actual view of the horizon. In a little while, it would grow dark and night would fall. Time to get the kids bathed and into bed. Time to spend alone with Joanne.

He felt her sit down beside him on the lounge and scooted over a bit to make room, raising his arm to allow her to settle in against his chest. He held her close, drawing comfort from her presence as he always did during difficult times.

* * *

"Hey, Mom! Watch this!"

Joanne glanced up from setting the plates down on the picnic table just in time to see Chris, perched on Johnny's shoulders, suddenly leap off and do a cannonball into their 4 foot deep dough boy pool. He came up sputtering, grinning from ear to ear.

"Chris, be careful," Joanne reminded him automatically, knowing that with both Roy and Johnny in the pool with the kids, nothing overly dangerous would be allowed.

With the table set and the grill ready for the burgers, they only had to wait for the swimmers to either tire or get cold enough to call it quits. Neither seemed an imminent possibility. Joanne sat down in a chair on the deck, and cast a glance at Kathy who stood leaning against the railing, watching the antics in the pool with an impatient expression on her face.

"Why don't you sit down," Joanne invited pleasantly. "It may be a while."

Kathy rolled her eyes in acknowledgment of the inevitable and came over to join her hostess. She cast a glance at her watch before she sat down.

"You and Johnny have plans after dinner?" Joanne asked.

The tall brunette shrugged. "Nothing solid," she answered. "I was kind of hoping to catch a movie or something."

Joanne didn't have to be Einstein to realize the "or something" was any kind of activity alone with Johnny. She felt rather sorry for this pretty girl who just couldn't seem to figure out why John Gage would want to spend time here playing with a couple of kids rather than be out on the town with a beautiful woman.

"Maybe if we start cooking the hamburgers, they'll get hungry enough to get out."

Kathy laughed. "That might be the only way to do it," she agreed.

"Come on, then."

The two women walked into the kitchen and quickly set about making patties. They chatted for a while about unimportant things, then Joanne's curiosity got the better of her.

"So, tell me about you and Johnny," she blurted out impulsively. "Are you two getting serious?"

Joanne wasn't sure what reaction she'd been expecting, but the one she got definitely wasn't it.

"Oh, heavens no," Kathy laughed lightly. "I've got way too much schooling ahead of me to get into anything serious. Did Johnny tell you I got accepted into the Masters Program at UCLA?"

Joanne nodded, remembering how excited Johnny had been. Kathy was currently an RN at Rampart in CCU, but getting her Masters in Nursing would open up all kinds of administrative career opportunities.

"Anyway, my classes start at the end of the month, and between school and work I really don't have room for anything remotely serious in the romance department."

Joanne didn't look up from the patty she was working on. "Does Johnny know all this?" she asked evenly.

"Sure," Kathy replied with a shrug. "He and I are just having a good time, that's all." She cast a quick glance outside. "Sometimes," she added with a touch of asperity in her voice. She shook her head and smiled again. "Besides, when I seriously start shopping for husband material, I plan on looking for somebody who makes a whole lot more money than Johnny does."

Kathy stopped suddenly and blushed. "Hey, I'm sorry, Joanne. I didn't mean anything bad about Roy or anything."

"It's okay," Joanne assured her, keeping her anger in check. She wasn't offended for Roy and herself. She was upset for Johnny, that he could be cast aside so blithely and on such superficial grounds. "You don't have to tell me how underpaid paramedics are."

Kathy smiled tentatively, obviously not sure how to take Joanne's response. "Yeah, well, that's a long time down the road. For now, Johnny's fun... to do stuff with."

Joanne didn't comment. That slight pause told her well enough what fun Kathy was talking about. It wasn't really her business, and she knew her and Roy's views on morality were fast being considered old fashioned. Still, Johnny was more than just Roy's partner. He was their friend, and she couldn't help feeling like he was being used, and he deserved better than that.

She finished up the last patty and washed her hands, wondering how two adults could date each other for months and have such completely different ideas of where their relationship was going. She hadn't actually talked to Johnny about it, but she knew him well enough to read the signs. He liked Kathy a lot and for John Gage to manage to hang onto the same girl for more than a few weeks, he had to want to keep her pretty badly.

"Well, let's get these burgers going," she declared, changing the subject. She picked up the platter of meat and headed outside. Kathy followed, bringing the spatula and a package of cheese slices.

Joanne had been right. As soon as the aroma of barbecued hamburger wafted over to the pool, the water lost most of its appeal. The kids climbed out shivering and wrapped themselves up in their towels. Roy herded them into the house for quick showers and dry clothes. Johnny settled for drying off haphazardly and slipping his t-shirt on, leaving his wet trunks to drip water down his legs. He walked over to the grill, slipped an arm around Kathy's waist and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"You want me to cook, Jo?" he offered.

"That's okay," Joanne told him. "I've got it covered. You and Kathy can go sit for a while. These'll be done in a few minutes."

Kathy beamed a smile of gratitude, while Johnny shot Joanne a quizzical look, but he shrugged and the pair wandered over to sit on the deck. They were soon deep in a conversation Joanne couldn't hear, and she realized at once, that was what Kathy wanted - Johnny's undivided attention.

She didn't have him to herself for long. Roy came out, wearing a pair of dry shorts and a clean shirt. He sat down beside his partner, oblivious to what he might have been interrupting. A few minutes later, Chris and Jenny galloped downstairs and onto the deck, thus ending any hope Kathy may have had of reclaiming her date.

Then the hamburgers were done and they had to fight the battle of who got to sit next to whom. Jenny, of course, was jumping up and down, holding Johnny's hand.

"Uncle Johnny, please sit by me, please."

Joanne rolled her eyes and was about to take her daughter to task when Roy stepped in.

"Jenny, you and Chris sit here. Uncle Johnny and Kathy can sit across from you." The tone in his voice brooked no argument.

Chris took his place willingly enough, but Jennifer was not above showing her displeasure. She plopped down with a dramatic sigh, looking like she'd just lost her best friend. Never able to sit by and let his best girl feel sad, Johnny reached across the table and tweaked Jenny's nose.

"Next time, Jenny Bean," he promised with a wink and a grin.

Talk flowed again as they all started eating. Eventually, even Jenny perked up and forgot her annoyance. Joanne had been a little worried about Johnny inadvertently bringing up the subject of yesterday's fire, but her fears were groundless. She didn't know whether Roy had mentioned it to his partner, or whether Johnny figured out on his own not to talk about it in front of the kids, but she was grateful nonetheless. Their conversation was light and centered mostly on the day's activities, school starting soon, and the kids badgering Johnny about what he wanted for his upcoming birthday.

As the meal wound down, however, Joanne once more noticed the slight impatience on Kathy's face. She hadn't been rude. She'd participated in all the dinnertime talk, but now she was obviously eager to finish up the evening and have Johnny all to herself, but it looked like he was letting himself get talked into playing a game of Aggravation with the kids. Joanne finally took pity on the poor woman.

"No games tonight, kids. I think Kathy and Uncle Johnny have plans."

"We do?" Johnny asked and Joanne nearly laughed at the confused expression on his face. Kathy, however, smiled and mouthed a silent thank you, while the kids groaned their disappointment.

"Sure," Joanne continued innocently, ignoring the glare she got from her daughter. "Kathy was mentioning something about going to a movie."

Johnny's eyes narrowed as he obviously tried to remember when they'd made these plans, but true to his nature, he didn't overly worry about it. After a moment, he shrugged it off.

"Sure. That's sounds great." He glanced down at his still damp swimming trunks. "Guess I should go change."

"Oh, we can go to your place first," Kathy suggested. "I'll look up movie times while you shower and change."

Johnny seemed okay with that plan, but he turned to Joanne once more. "Sure you don't want some help cleaning up?"

Joanne made shooing motions with her hands. "Don't worry about it. Go ahead or you won't catch a decent show time."

"Oh, okay." Johnny got up and took Kathy's hand to help her up off the bench. He leaned over to give Joanne a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner, Jo."

"Yes, Joanne, Roy," Kathy added. "Thanks so much for inviting me."

Joanne managed to keep a straight face at the woman's valiant attempt to sound sincere. Roy, however, made an odd coughing sound, and Joanne didn't dare meet his eyes or she knew they would both burst out laughing.

The kids rushed over to tell Johnny good night. Johnny tousled Chris' hair and then picked Jennifer up so she could give him a huge hug.

"Come back soon," Jenny instructed firmly. "We miss you too much when we don't see you."

"Me too, kiddo, me too."

Johnny set her down and slapped Roy on the back. "See ya tomorrow, Pally."

"Yeah, see ya," Roy replied. He got up to see the couple to the door, but his partner motioned him to stay where he was.

"Heck, I know the way out," Johnny laughed. He took Kathy by the elbow and led her through the house to the front door.

When she heard the door shut, Joanne finally let herself glance over at Roy. They both started laughing.

"What's so funny, Mom?" Chris asked.

Joanne shook her head. "Nothing, sweetie. Your dad and I are just being silly."

"I think all grown ups are silly," Jenny announced solemnly from where she stood staring after her Uncle Johnny.

* * *

Johnny was whistling cheerily as he walked from the parking lot into the station. The engine and the squad were both gone, but there was still nearly half an hour before A shift officially started. And even if they weren't back on time, he was pretty sure Cap would be able to find things for them to do.

He pushed his way into the locker room and spotted Roy sitting on the bench by his locker buttoning his shirt.

"Mornin'" Johnny greeted happily. He opened his own locker and hung up the load of clean uniforms he'd carried in.

"You're pretty chipper," Roy observed with a chuckle. "Must have been some movie last night."

"Movie?" Johnny looked bewildered for a moment before he remembered what Roy was talking about. "Oh, yeah... the movie." He flashed his partner a lopsided grin. "Actually, Roy, we... see, we never quite made it to the movies." He pulled his shirt tails from his pants and began working on the buttons.

Johnny could have sworn Roy was trying not to laugh when he answered. "Really? Gee, I thought that's why you left so early."

The grin faded a bit from the dark haired paramedic's face. "Yeah, me too. It was weird, ya know. As soon as I got cleaned up, Kathy suddenly didn't want to go to the movies anymore." He brightened again at the memory of how they kept themselves entertained. "No big deal, though," he assured his partner as he hung up his shirt and pulled out his pale blue uniform one. "We found other things to do."

"I don't think I wanna hear about it," Roy murmured dryly.

Johnny just laughed. "Don't worry, I wasn't plannin' on tellin' ya."

"You can tell me, John," Chet piped up.

Johnny frowned. Kelly had the most annoying habit of showing up unexpectedly in the middle of conversations that were none of his business. If he were a more suspicious person, Johnny would think the worst of Chet and accuse him of eavesdropping.

"I'm not tellin' you anything," Johnny informed the stocky Irishman.

"Only cuz there's nothing to tell," Chet taunted.

Johnny knew very well that Kelly was only trying to get a rise out of him, but for some reason he could never keep his mouth shut when Chet started in on him.

"I have plenty I could tell," he retorted. "I'm just too much of a gentleman."

"Yeah, right," Chet shot back. "You're just too pathetic."

The sound of Roy's locker closing interrupted the bickering and Johnny watched his partner leave the room. Roy was the most patient man Johnny knew, but the senior paramedic rarely stayed around once Chet got things riled up.

"See what ya did," Johnny accused.

"I didn't do..."

Chet paused and Johnny turned to see Cap standing there, hands on hips, his expression perturbed.

"It's a little early for that, don't you think?"

It was definitely a rhetorical question, so neither Johnny nor Chet made an attempt to answer.

"Come on into the day room as soon as you're ready," Cap continued. "We've got some business to go over."

He left without another word. Johnny glanced over at Chet, who merely shrugged and began changing his clothes. Johnny finished dressing quickly and slammed his locker shut loudly to annoy Chet.

"Thanks for breaking my eardrums," Kelly protested.

Johnny snickered as he left the room.

The rest of their shift was already sitting around the table drinking coffee when Johnny walked into the day room. He also spied an open box of Winchell's.

"Grab some coffee, John, and sit down," Cap instructed. "We'll get started as soon as Chet's here."

"Sure, Cap."

Curious about what was going on, Johnny poured himself a cup, then came back to the table and took a seat next to Roy. He looked to his partner with raised eyebrows, silently asking what was happening. Roy just shook his head.

Resigned to having to wait, Johnny reached into the box of donuts and found a jelly filled. He bit into it, smiling that for once he'd beat Chet to their shared favorite.

They only had to wait for a few minutes. Chet rushed in, tucking in his shirt.

"Sorry, Cap," he apologized, though none of them were actually late.

"That's okay, Kelly. Have a seat."

Chet pulled up a chair beside Marco, reached toward the donuts, then glared at Johnny. The paramedic didn't say anything, he merely sat there with a smug smile on his face. Their exchange wasn't lost on Captain Stanley. He cleared his throat loudly.

"If you children are through," he began.

"Sorry, Cap," Johnny mumbled, wondering again what had their captain so worked up. He was ordinarily a laid back kind of guy, unless he had to deal with McConnike.

Cap cleared his throat again. "First of all, thanks for coming in early for this meeting. I just wanted to let you know, I heard from the Chief. They got an ID on the victim we found in the fire."

Johnny sat up straight. The mood in the room had immediately sobered.

"He was a firefighter all right, but not from around here. His name was Rob Jansen. He'd worked with the Fresno City Fire Department for ten years. He had a wife and three kids."

"Do they know what happened to him?" Roy asked quietly.

"Yeah, Cap," Marco added. "How did he get down here and in that fire?"

Captain Stanley held up his hands to stop the questions. "They don't know everything yet. The police in Fresno hadn't made much progress on the case. All they know is that he went missing from a fire scene a few weeks ago."

"He disappeared while they were at a fire?" Johnny asked incredulously.

Cap nodded. "So it would seem. And that's all we know for now. Headquarters has instructed us to cooperate fully with the police. They may come by and ask some questions. Just tell them what you know."

"But we don't know anything, Cap," Chet insisted.

Johnny snorted, but managed to keep the natural come back to himself. Cap shot him a glance, but refrained from commenting.

"They just want to know anything you might remember from the scene. Any little thing at all might help."

The rattle of the garage door opening told them C shift was returning. Johnny glanced at his watch. Just about on time.

"Okay, that's all," Cap told them. "Let's give C shift a break and take care of the equipment for them. Let them go home on time. We'll have roll call after."

Johnny was actually glad for the physical work of hanging hose. It helped keep his mind off of a man he didn't know.

* * *

"Okay, Dix, I think we got everything." Johnny stacked the last two bags of saline on top of the box of syringes. He carefully lifted up the load of supplies, ready to carry them out to the squad, but when he turned, he nearly dropped the precariously balanced bags.

"Whoa," Roy cautioned. He tried to stabilize the last two boxes, then gave it up. "Here, let me help you." He took most of the items from Johnny's hands, then gave his partner a teasing grin. "Can't have the birthday boy working too hard, now can we?"

"Ro-oy..." Johnny began, but stopped at the look on Dixie's face.

"John Gage, were you trying to get through this day without letting anybody know it was your birthday?"

Johnny started to shake his head, but Roy interrupted him.

"He's a little sensitive. This is the big three-oh."

Dixie's eyes twinkled as she nodded her understanding. Johnny apparently decided enough was enough.

"Oh, knock it off you guys. Dixie, you know very well today's my birthday. I already got the card you sent me in the mail."

The head nurse merely smiled wider. "You're right," she said, looking at Roy. "He is a bit touchy, isn't he?"

"I'm not touchy," Johnny protested indignantly. "I just..." He stopped, seeing the amusement in both his friends' faces. He shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "Okay, so I am a little touchy," he relented. "But who wouldn't be. The phantom hasn't left me alone all day."

Roy at last looked sympathetic. "He's right there, Dix.," he informed her. "Chet's taken Johnny's thirtieth birthday and run with it. I think this is the third uniform he's gone through."

"Third?" Johnny squeaked. "The fourth at least." He shifted his remaining box of supplies. "I think I'm gonna have to send Chet my laundry bill."

Dixie's smile was now genuinely affectionate. "Well, Johnny, don't let Chet get you down. You must have something fun planned for your birthday?"

Johnny's face lit up. "Oh, yeah. In the morning, after we get off, I'm going to Roy's. Joanne and the kids are fixing me a birthday breakfast. Then Kathy and I are going to go out to dinner when she gets off work."

"Are you still seeing Kathy?" Dixie asked. She hadn't realized the two were that much of an item.

Johnny's face took on an annoyed look, and Dixie instantly regretted her question. She realized Johnny must get that reaction from a lot of people and was probably tired of it.

"Yeah, Dix, I am." He grinned, letting her know he wasn't angry with her. "We hit it off really good. She's great."

Dixie gave him a warm smile. "That's nice. I'm glad for you, Johnny." She wanted to say more, but refrained. Johnny was a big boy and his romantic life was his own concern. If Kathy Palmer wanted to date Johnny and still flirt openly with the very single chief resident up in CCU, that wasn't any of Dixie's business.

The HT dangling from Roy's hand crackled to life.

Roy juggled the supplies, while working the hand radio.

"Squad 51, available."

Muted tones began to sound over the HT. Roy held up his hand in farewell.

"See ya, Dix." The two paramedics strode briskly down the hall.

"Bye, guys. Happy birthday, Johnny," she called after them.

She saw a lanky arm raise in acknowledgment of her good wishes.

* * *

September in Los Angeles brought the beginning of school, as well as Santa Ana winds and, unfortunately for firefighters, brush fire season. Station 51, though not located in the more rural, hilly areas of the county, still felt the effects of the numerous fires. Sometimes they would get called up to help man the fire lines, but more frequently they stayed in the cities, helping to cover the territories of those crews working the blaze. When it was really bad, shifts were extended; sometimes lasting as much as forty eight hours.

Roy wasn't sure which was worse - the unending, exhausting hours of eating smoke and grit, or pulling an overtime shift filled with two to three times the normal amount of responses, traveling extremely long distances, sometimes for nothing calls, or worse, to be canceled and turned around after driving for twenty or thirty minutes.

Roy stifled a yawn as he pulled out of the La Palma Intercommunity Hospital ER parking area. They'd just delivered a cardiac case into the hands of a very competent staff of doctors, and it looked pretty good for the patient's full recovery. Johnny, however, had worked himself up into full rant over a glitch in the system that had them driving into Orange County for this response.

"I mean, come on, I can see covering territory, but crossing county lines... that's a little much, don't you think?

"Johnny, it wasn't that big a..."

"And why the heck couldn't Orange County send somebody to the call? You can't tell me every city in this county has their fire department up in Chatsworth at the brush fire. Heck, they're not even near Chatsworth. Chatsworth's in our county... on the other end of our county."

"There's a fire in Anaheim Hills," Roy tried to reason. "They're probably dealing with that."

"Oh, and that means they can't cover other territory? We manage to cover a whole lot more area than that and we handle twice... three times the amount of brush fires."

Roy shook his head. There was no use pointing out to his partner that their run to La Palma had only taken them a few minutes since they had already been in Norwalk anyway, backing up a call in 115's territory, that there wasn't a county fire department here yet, though there was a movement to form one, that independent city departments had a harder time coordinating help than a county wide agency. Johnny knew all that as well as Roy did, but the younger man wasn't in the mood to listen. He just needed to vent for a while and Roy happened to be stuck sitting next to him.

Johnny carried on for nearly the entire drive back to the station. Roy had enough experience with his partner's tirades that he could pretty much tune the other man out and still nod in the appropriate places. As they found themselves back in their own area, Johnny finally seemed to be winding down and Roy drew in a breath of relief. As fond as he was of his friend, sometimes the constant harping gave Roy a headache.

By the time they turned onto their street, it was actually quiet in the squad. The silence lasted only a few minutes, however, when they spied the now familiar cars parked on the street.

"Crockett's here," Johnny commented evenly. "And McConnike."

Roy nodded as he turned the truck around to back it into its place beside the engine. In the few weeks since the warehouse fire, they'd had several visits from different law enforcement officials. From the Arson squad, to homicide, to