Scene One

Scene One
"Roy!" John Gage called, his voice trembling with child-like fear. "Roy?! Where are you?"

The only response was the faint, hollow echo of Johnny's own voice coming back to him. It was the most terrifying sound he had ever heard.

Keep going, Gage. That was the one thought driving him on, on down this empty hallway with its dull, grey walls and door after door after door that led... nowhere. Roy has to be in one of these rooms! Johnny wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that his partner was still alive, but hope was being drowned out by the waves of fear sweeping over his being.

Johnny opened another door. He had been wandering these halls for what felt like an eternity, opening doors and feeling the bitter disappointment every time he found another empty room. This room was just like the others. It was as if little green men had come down from the sky and taken his best friend away.

Johnny coughed. "I smell smoke," he said to no one. He must be getting close to the fire now. It felt like a giant stone was sitting in his stomach. The sense of urgency only grew as he went deeper into this maze, each step bringing him closer, closer... It was getting hard to see now. Smoke obscured Johnny's vision. He slid the oxygen mask over his face. He felt for his handy talkie, but it wasn't there. Why wasn't it there?! He always had it. Not only was Roy's life in immediate peril, but Johnny was taking an enormous risk himself. Captain Stanley would be none too pleased with the way Gage was ignoring proper protocol and just venturing out on his own like a loose cannon.

"Roy!" He called again, desperation pulsating through him like a raging current. "Roy! Answer me!" Johnny saw something! Was it? Yes! He saw a fireman's uniform. It had to be Roy! Johnny bore the weight of an oxygen tank on his back, but that didn't stop him from running toward the figure he saw at the end of this dim corridor.

"Roy! Roy, let's get outta here!" He called out, but no one responded. "Roy!" Frustration replaced the strains of fear in Johnny's voice. How come he wasn't getting an answer?

The celebration ended when Johnny realized that he had been running toward... himself. At the end of the corridor was a huge mirror. A mirror! It wasn't Roy at all.

"I don't believe it," Johnny said, sighing aloud. He stared at himself in the mirror. Billows of smoke reflected behind and around him, semi-obscuring his form. It was as if he were walking the foggy streets of London. The only thing missing was the bellow of ship's horns in the distance.

Johnny noticed a door to his left. It didn't have a knob per se, but a long, curved handle, telling him that this must lead to some kind of auditorium. Johnny felt the door. It's warm! He knew he shouldn't go in there. He shouldn't open it. He would be putting his life at even more risk than it was in now.

"Roy!" He called, pounding on the door, trepidation preventing him from just pulling it open.

"I'm here," called a familiar voice from within the auditorium. The sound was muffled, faint, but it was Roy DeSoto.

Johnny sighed with relief. "I'll be right there." He yanked on the door handle and was shocked to find it... locked. He pulled harder, in a futile effort to force it open.

"I... I can't get in!" Johnny said, worry evident in his voice. "How... how did you get in there?"

"There's another door," Roy said. "Down further, but it's blocked off now. Hurry! ...can't hang on much longer."

"Hang on!" Johnny yelled. "I'll be right back with help. I'll get you out! I will!"

"Hurry!" Roy repeated, his words trailing off as Johnny ran back the way he had come, hoping he remembered all the twists and turns that would lead him out of this place. His friend's life, and his own, depended on it.

He ran... this way, that way, until he finally burst through the front door of the building only to find himself... in a field, ripe with the greenest grass he had ever seen in his life.

"Wha... where... Cap?" Johnny called. "Cap?!" No answer. The shadows from the trees here contrasted with the bright, sunlit grass. What a peaceful place! John Gage felt anything but peaceful. What is going on here? He scanned his field of vision and saw a crowd of people gathered at the far end of this field.

"No," he whispered aloud, as he realized that this was no simple field. This was a cemetery. Up ahead, he could see the cold white, grey and black slabs of rock sticking up out of the ground, each one marking the place where the remains of a human being lay. Johnny walked toward the crowd, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He didn't like this place. No. Not at all. Why was the hair on the back of his neck standing on end? Why was he trembling like a child during a thunderstorm? The foreboding hovered over him like hungry vultures, waiting to devour him, bite by bite.

As he approached the crowd, he realized that they were all people he knew. He wondered what they were doing here. He saw Cap, Stoker, Marco, Chet, Dwyer, more firemen than attended last year's company picnic. He saw Dixie, Doctor Brackett, Doctor Early. Suddenly, Johnny had the sudden urge to back away, far away. He didn't want to know why they were here, but, he also felt a gnawing curiosity in his gut. He had to know. Man, why aren't decisions ever just... black and white?

Johnny was about to open his mouth to ask a question when he noticed, through a space between the people, a tombstone. He suddenly understood how Ebenezer Scrooge must have felt when facing the Spirit of Christmas Future.

"I don't want to look," he said quietly. No one even acknowledged him. He squinted and bent over to see the inscription, content to look from this distance. He didn't know if his wobbly knees would take him any closer anyway.

There, in large, bold letters, carved in a white, marble, upright slab, the name "DeSoto" stood out, piercing Johnny through like a bolt of lightning, causing his knees to buckle, his emotions to explode in a cataclysmic burst of grief, disbelief, anguish.

"Noooooooooo," he cried out, the crushing weight of the truth falling on him all at once, his senses too overloaded to accept what his eyes dictated he must. "It's not true! It's not!" He sank to his knees in the grass, hands clenched, body trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. Then, from the depths of his emotions, a sharp, child-like cry: "Rooooooy!" John Gage bolted upright in his bunk at Station 51, cold beads of sweat oozing out out all over his body, his breathing bordering on hyperventilation.

"Oh... thank God," he sighed, as he glanced over and saw his partner, asleep in his own bunk. Johnny lay back down, his taut muscles slowly, slowly loosening, relaxing, allowing him to rest, the adrenalin flow subsiding at the realization that he had been dreaming.

Scene Two
"You're up early," Chet said as he entered the kitchen. "And you made the coffee too. What's the matter? Let me guess. You got dumped again and forgot to tell us."

Gage shrugged. "Yeah. Sure Chet. Whatever." He wasn't in the mood to banter. His droopy dark eyes betrayed the fact that he needed more sleep. He had made a valiant attempt to go back to sleep after the nightmare last night, but to no avail. Finally, Gage had given up and resigned himself to rising before the birds.

Chet stopped, coffee pot in mid-air. "Are you okay?" He asked, trying not to sound too concerned, but he was. "Don't tell me. You've got insomnia again? Aw Gage, you're pathetic."

Gage got up from the table and headed for the TV. Maybe the morning news would drown out Chet's annoying voice. He didn't feel like dignifying his question with an answer. He didn't feel like himself at all right now. Sure. It was only a dream, but every vivid detail stuck in his mind as if it had been some bigscreen movie at the theater. I gotta shake this off, he thought. Gage didn't like feeling so... out of control.

"Something's wrong with Johnny," Chet said, as Roy shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and stretching and taking a second to rub the sleep from his eyes. Roy glanced over at his partner, who was seemingly engrossed in the morning weather forecast. "Oh yeah?" Roy asked, curiosity slightly piqued. "What makes you say that? Is he gaga over the weather girl or something?"

Chet shook his head. "Roy. I'm serious. He's acting...weird."

Roy grinned. "You say that like it's abnormal for Johnny."

Chet poured Roy some coffee. "No. I mean... not normal Johnny weird... even weirder."

Roy took a sip of coffee, his sluggish body welcoming the intake of caffeine. "Hmmm... weirder, huh?" He shrugged, giving a trademark Roy DeSoto smirk. "Ok. I'll check it out."

Roy headed to the couch to sit beside Johnny, though he didn't really take Chet's angst too seriously, not until he saw his partner's face anyway. That somber look made Roy realize that, for a change, Chet wasn't fooling. There was something wrong, but that look also told Roy that it might take some wrestling and prodding to get to the truth.

"Good morning," Roy said. It seemed as good a place to start as any.

Johnny started. Hadn't he heard Roy come into the kitchen? Hadn't he been aware of anything in the past few minutes? Apparently not.

"Hey! I didn't mean to scare ya," Roy said, patting him on the shoulder. "You look terrible. What's the matter? Are you feeling sick? Let me check you out."

"No. No, Roy. I'm... I'm fine," Johnny said, protesting the sudden attention.

"You sure?" Roy continued. "You don't look fine. Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine, Roy!" Johnny snapped, then he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. His face, his voice... softened. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Roy's expression grew serious. He didn't like seeing his partner like this. It was so... un-Johnny. "It's ok. Do you wanna talk about it? I've never seen you like this... what's going on?"

Johnny bit his lip. He didn't want Roy to know that he was fighting tears. He didn't want Roy to know anything about this, but he also had a new awareness of the fragility of life. He could lose his best friend anytime and, suddenly, it was all too real for him.

"I... I..." Johnny didn't know what to say. "I'm never going to say a harsh word... not ever again. You... you can bank on it, Roy."

Johnny got up and walked out of the kitchen, hurriedly. It was obvious that he did not want to be followed, so Roy let him go. Still, this conversation had him stumped. What was it all about?

Chet glanced over at Roy and shrugged. "I told you, Roy," he quipped. "Weirder."

Roy nodded. "Yeah. I see that."

The rest of this shift was going to be very strange indeed.

Scene Three
"Squad 51. Man injured at a ranch. 1205 Stormont Road.1-2-0-5 Stormont Road. Time out, 10:15."

"Squad 51, KMG 365," said Stoker, handing Roy the information through the cab window.

Roy and Johnny set off, sirens wailing, curiosity and adrenalin pumping. The information on this call was sketchy at best. They knew they had better be prepared for anything.

"This one's quite a piece away," Johnny commented. "I hope it's not too serious."

"Yeah," Roy agreed, worry evident on his face. They were never supposed to become emotionally involved with the victim, but every time a call came through, Roy instantly felt the weight of responsibility fall on his shoulders, responsibility for the life of the patient. He couldn't get to the scene fast enough.

It felt like they would drive off the edge of the earth. The density of the city, with all its buildings and busy-ness soon gave way to a seemingly endless expanse of green space. Finally, Johnny pointed to a large sign that read, "La Puerta Roja. 1205 Stormont Road."

An obviously distraught brunette in faded blue jeans, denim shirt and cowboy boots ran toward the squad as it meandered down the long, dirt lane way. Her mouth was moving, but they couldn't hear her, not until the squad came to a stop.

"... Manuel! Manuel!" The woman screamed in mid-sentence.

Whatever the trouble was, it had something to do with Manuel, but that was all Roy and Johnny knew. They hurriedly grabbed their equipment and followed the frantic woman to a rail fence that surrounded a large pasture.

"Alli! Alli!" The woman yelled in Spanish, motioning for them to go over the fence.

Sure enough, as the paramedics approached, they could see a young man lying in the grass, moaning loudly. He clutched at his abdomen, his teeth gritted, indicating the intensity of the pain.

"What happened here?" Johnny asked, kneeling beside the man to begin his examination.

"Apurate!" The woman exclaimed, hand waving, motioning at them as though the sheer intensity of her waving would make the examinatin go faster.

"Look at that," Johnny said to Roy, indicating a deep gash in the man's abdomen.

"Yeah," Roy said. "He's bleeding badly. I'll uh... I'll get Rampart."

Johnny applied pressure to the man's wound to stop the free flow of blood. It wasn't doing much good. This was a gusher. With his free hand, he reached for the trauma box.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51," Roy said.

There was a slight pause, then Doctor Brackett's baritone voice came over the wire. "51, this is Rampart. Go ahead."

"Rampart, we have a male victim, approximately 25 years old. He's got a deep gash in the left side of his abdomen. He's losing a lot of blood. There's massive bruising, possibly internal bleeding..."

"How did this happen?" Johnny asked the man while he applied a pressure bandage to see if he could get the bleeding under control.

The man tried to lift his head. "El... el..."

Johnny realized that these folks probably didn't understand a word he was saying. He wondered who had made the initial call to dispatch. Johnny's Spanish was limited, but he had to try. "Uh... Senor...Senor... que pasa?" He pointed to the wound. "Que pasa?"

The young man raised his head again, his eyes growing wide as though he were seeing some horrific monster. "El... el... el toro!"

Johnny tried to calm the man down, but he only grew more agitated.

"El... el toro! El toro!" The man repeated, the pitch in his voice rising sharply.

"El toro?" Johnny said, squinting in puzzlement.

Suddenly, Roy understood. He looked up and saw the same thing the young man saw and now, Roy also knew what had caused this mysterious gash.

"Uh... uh... Johnny?" Roy said, pointing behind his partner. "Johnny?" He turned his attention back to the biophone. "Stand by, Rampart." He hung up.

"Wha..." Johnny said, whirling his head around to see what all the fuss was about. His jaw dropped at the sight of a rather large, black, unamused bull standing by the open barn door. "Oh... oh... we... uh... we better get outta here."

The bull began pawing the ground in a display of obvious aggression. If they weren't careful, Manuel wouldn't be the only victim here.

"We had the squad to protect us last time, but now what do we do?" Roy asked. "If we make a sudden move, that thing's gonna charge us."

Johnny rubbed his chin. He thought. "Well," he began, swallowing hard. "He can't... he can't chase all of us at the same time, can he?"

"What are you suggesting?" Roy retorted.

Johnny cleared his throat. "I'm... I'm suggesting that... uh... that I distract el toro and get him to chase me to the rail fence over there while you get Manuel and the girl outta here."

Roy couldn't believe his ears. "That's about the craziest idea I've ever heard."

Johnny shrugged. "Do you have a better one?" A long pause. "I didn't think so."

Roy's expression turned somber. "Be careful, will ya? I don't want to have to put up with Brice for a partner again. Understand?"

Johnny smiled. "Got it."

Johnny got up, slowly, carefully, and shuffled sideways to put a good distance between himself and the others. He didn't want the bull charging anywhere near the victim. No. He was... a lunatic. I'm a lunatic! He thought. I'm going to entice a bull to charge me! God, if I haven't said so in a while.I... I'm really sorry for all the pranks I've pulled on Chet and... and for anything else that's on my list of... of sinnin'.

It was time. Johnny waved his arms in the air and began to shout. "Hey! Hey bull! Here bull! Over here!"

The bull turned his attention away from Manuel and fixed his disaffectionate gaze on John Gage. He pawed the ground. He pawed it again, the intensity growing each time his hoof scraped the ground. The flaring of his nostrils let them all know that he was ready, ready to run like the wind at any second.

"C'mon!" Johnny said, motioning with his arms for the bull to come. "C'mon bull!"

That did it. Almost simultaneously, the bull charged and Johnny bolted. They were running, one in malicious anger, one in total panic. The bull, despite its massive size and weight, was a fast runner, gaining on Johnny with each stride. Johnny poured it on for all he was worth. The distance between himself and that rail fence seemed like a thousand miles. Any time now, he was certain that he would feel those sharp, merciless horns ripping through his flesh and muscle.

While all this was going on, Roy helped Manuel and his girlfriend across the field and over the rail fence to safety. Roy concentrated on treating Manuel's wounds, but kept one eye on his partner's race with the bull as he did so.

"C'mon, Johnny," he whispered, biting his lip as he watched the bull closing in on his best friend, stride by stride.

Johnny raced for that fence as though it were the ribbon at the end of a foot race, the muscles in his body tightening as he struggled and strained to reach the finish line before that bull maimed or killed him.

"Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!" He groaned and grunted loudly, arms flailing wildly, like laundry flapping in the breeze.

"C'mon!" Roy said aloud. "C'mon! You can do it!" He cheered Johnny on, his own heart pounding wildly. He couldn't take it anymore. He took the girl's hand and showed her how to apply pressure to Manuel's gash, then he ran for the fence as Johnny and the bull closed in on it, the bull only a few feet behind now. "I'm... pant pant... not... pant pant... gonna... pant pant... make it!" Johnny cried out, the fear in the air almost tangible.

"You are!" Roy cheered. "You are gonna make it! Run! Johnny! Run!"

This was going to be close. Johnny dug deep within for one last helping of strength. Please, God. Just enough to get me over that fence! Johnny sprinted the last yard, the bull gaining fast. Johnny grabbed for the top rail in mid-sprint, using both hands. Without hesitation, he used the momentum and his upper body strength to hoist himself into the air as if the rail were a vault. Up, up, up and over the rail fence... Johnny was airborne, his body clearing the top of the fence at the precise second when the bull's hard head smacked into the rails. Johnny did an awkward, unplanned somersault in mid-air before making a less than graceful landing on his feet, opposite the disgruntled bull, but out of reach of the animal's deadly horns.

"Sorry. Not today, El Toro," Johnny said, offering the animal one of his trademark crooked smiles. Gage leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Whew! What a rush!"

Roy shook his head. His partner had just about become a human shish kabob, and all he could say was 'what a rush'? "I'd better get back to Manuel," he said, motioning toward the patient.

"Yeah," Johnny said. "I'm coming. Ha! Maybe next year I'll go to Spain for the running of the bulls. I've already had good practice."

Roy refused to dignify that with an answer. He just rolled his eyes and smirked.

Scene Four
"How is he, Doc?" Roy asked. He and Johnny stood, loitering by the nurse's station for a cup of coffee and a chat with Dixie.

Doctor Brackett poured himself a cup of the steaming brew. "Well," he replied, "he's on his way up to surgery right now. He lost a fair amount of blood, but with some patching up, I think he'll make it, if there are no complications."

Dixie grinned. "Did you hear about Johnny? He's been moonlighting as a matador."

Johnny's face turned a little red. "Yeah. Well..."

"I heard," Doctor Brackett responded, patting Gage on the shoulder. "How do you like it?"

Johnny smiled. "I think I'll stick with a less hazardous profession. Oh... let's say... firefighting."

"It was a close call, huh?" Brackett quipped.

Roy interjected. "Let's just say... the galloping greyhound got a run for his money."

They all shared a laugh.

"Yeah. Well, I'm just glad you're all right," Dixie said. "You could've been badly hurt... or worse."

Roy set his empty cup on the counter. "That's Johnny for you. He's got more lives than a cat. I guess it's a good thing. I'd hate to have to break in a new partner." He turned his attention to Johnny. "Are you ready to go?"

Johnny didn't answer. He was hanging on Roy's words. "...I'd hate to have to break in a new partner." Yeah. Me too, he thought. It all came back to him at once; the dream, the anguish, the sadness.

"Johnny?" Roy repeated. "Johnny, are you ready to go?"

Gage snapped back to reality. "Oh... oh... oh yeah. Yeah, Roy. I'm ready."

Roy gave Johnny a puzzled look. He had often said his partner was from another planet. At times like these, he wondered if he wasn't right.

Scene Five
By the time Station 51 arrived at 757 East Richmond, the three story apartment building was well engaged. Hank Stanley barked orders into his handy talkie, calling for a second alarm assignment, directing the other engines to attack this blaze at strategic points. He grimaced and shook his head. "Damn! If we don't get this under control, it could spread down the block!"

"You're right," McKonikee agreed. Yes. This was the infamous Chief McKonikee, Cap's nemesis, but at a time like this, nothing else mattered but saving lives and fighting their common foe, this ancient dragon called fire.

"This is an old section," Hank continued. "No wonder the place went up like a tinder box."

"I have faith in you, Hank," McKonikee said, patting him on the shoulder. Whatever misunderstandings lay between Chief McKonikee and Hank Stanley, there was no doubt that they were both professional and seasoned men, both deserving of their respective positions.

Cap sighed. They would do their best, of course, but he wasn't sure they could pull this off. He considered giving the order to evacuate the entire section. If it spread much further, he would have no choice.

"Cap," Roy said. "We got a report that there's an elderly woman trapped on the second floor."

Hank Stanley grimaced. He didn't honestly feel confident that his men could get to the second floor now, and even if they did, would they come out again? These were the times when he envied the men under him, envied the fact that they didn't have to send their colleagues, no, their friends, into situations where they were likely to be injured... or killed.

"What do you think?" he asked. Roy was a good man, level-headed. Heck. Stanley felt that Roy was just as much captain material as anyone. His opinion would be invaluable now, and Hank needed it, though he didn't want Roy to see how much.

"It's pretty bad," Roy said. He paused. "But, we've braved worse."

Stanley half-grinned. DeSoto wasn't one to exaggerate. His opinion could be trusted. "Ok," the captain conceded. "Just make it fast."

Walking into the building felt like diving into muddy water. Roy and Johnny could barely see their own hands in front of them, and they groped like blind men, feeling their way to the stairwell, wondering how anyone could possibly be alive, yet knowing they couldn't live with themselves if they didn't try. The men had rigged a line and attached it to themselves. That way, they could follow it back out and save valuable time once they found the victim.

"Ok! I found the stairs!" Johnny said loudly, his voice muffled by his oxygen mask and the background white noise of flames, shouts and fully-open firehoses.

They started up, carefully, quickly as they dared, going deeper and deeper into the lair of the fiery dragon. It was hot up here. There were too many rooms, and no neon sign saying "Follow the arrow to the victim".

Johnny and Roy began banging on doors, though they knew the victim was likely unconscious by now. "Hello? Hello? Is anybody in here?!" Some of the doors were already open. The tenants had fled in panic, leaving their homes, their possessions, their very lives behind them. Such enormous loss. It was something the boys of 51 saw too often.

They searched apartment 22a, 22b, 22c, 22d... "Here!" Johnny yelled, raising his arm automatically. "I found her!"

The woman was slumped by the door, face down, an old, tattered housecoat wrapped loosely around her. Johnny picked her up over his shoulder. She was skeletal, frail, and Johnny wondered if he couldn't just drop her out the window and watch her float this way, that way, like a feather in flight, wafting til the breeze set her down ever so gently. If only it were that simple. He had to find his way out of this mess with this woman's life depending on his instincts and his courage.

"Come on, Roy. Let's get out of here," Johnny called out into the smoky haze.

"In a minute," Roy responded. "I hear something down the hall. I'll check it out and meet you outside."

Johnny hesitated. He didn't like this, but he had no choice. "All right." He continued toward the exit with his victim, not stopping until he set her safely and gently down on a sheet across the street on a small section of green space. He began his examination.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?" Johnny spoke into the biophone.

"51, this is Rampart. We read you loud and clear," Doctor Brackett said.

Johnny kept half an eye on his patient, half an eye on the building. Where is Roy? "Uh... uh...Rampart, I've got a female patient here, approximately 70 years old. She's a victim of smoke inhalation in a fire. Vital signs are... pulse is 100, BP is 110/70 and respirations are 20 and shallow. I've got her on O2. She's still unconscious, but I can't see any other apparent injuries. Uh... it appears as if she did take a fall in her apartment, but I don't know if she hit her head or not and there are no external indications of that."

"Ok, 51. Keep her on O2 and start an IV D5W. Monitor her and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart," Johnny said, hanging up the receiver. He hurriedly grabbed the drug box and searched the lady's bony arm for a vein. These kinds of patients gave him a sinking feeling inside. It was as if she would break in his hands like a piece of glass, and he felt as though the IV needle would go right through her. Still, years of training and experience conditioned him to act despite his feelings.

Johnny glanced toward the building again. Roy should be outta there by now. Something's wrong! "Cap! Cap!" He called, trying not to sound panicky.

Hank Stanley heard one of his men calling to him. It was Gage and he didn't look too good. "What is it?"

"Cap! Roy's still in there! I gotta go after him!" Johnny said, his words clear, but starting to run together as his emotions surfaced.

Cap looked at the blazing building and winced. "Lopez! Kelly! DeSoto is still in there. Go and assist him. See if you can clear a path for him to get out!"

Johnny grabbed Cap's sleeve. "Let me go after him! Please! I know he should have come out by now."

Cap shook his head. "You stay with the victim. Marco and Chet will get Roy." He could see that Gage wasn't buying it. He knelt down beside Johnny so they could see eye to eye. "Johnny... they'll get him out. You stay out of there. That's an order!"

Gage didn't like this. Part of him knew the Cap was right. He was too emotional right now. He could barge in there half-cocked and do more harm than good. His place was here, with his patient, but still, it took everything in him to keep himself from running like a maniac into that building. He suddenly understood how the victims felt, the countless victims that he had restrained from running into burning buildings and so many other dangerous situations. This was torture. He knew he would have more compassion for them now than ever before.

Johnny wasn't a praying man. He never claimed to be, but he knew how. He knew there was a God out there. If nothing else, his native heritage had taught him to respect his Creator, even if he didn't talk about the deeper side of himself much. Right now, he didn't care about being macho. This was his best friend and just last night, he had dreamed his funeral.

"Please, God," Johnny said. "Wow... I know this is a record. The second prayer I've said today, but...well... this one's not even for me. It's Roy. He's got a family, God. He's got kids and... and... he's my best friend. Could you... could you help him out? Please... help him out..."

Violent coughing interrupted Johnny's chat with God. The lady he rescued woke up, her lungs dispelling the poisonous smoke and chemicals that had invaded them not so long ago. The lady reached for the oxygen mask, disoriented, arms flailing, her slight frame struggling to get up off the ground.

"Ma'am? Ma'am," Johnny said. "Calm down. Just calm down. There's been a fire. You're gonna be all right. You're gonna be all right. Now, just calm... Ow!" Tiny packed a big whallup and Johnny could barely believe the blood trickling from his lip.

"Harold! Harold!" The woman cried out. Her grey eyes grew wide, like saucers, and she stared at the flames as if they were a monster, intent on devouring... well... Harold.

"Ma'am. Who... who's Harold?" Johnny asked, trying to distract her attention from the fire. "Is... Is Harold your husband?"

This lady was a going concern. She still coughed and sputtered, but was determined to escape Johnny's grasp so she could run back into the flames. "Harold! Oh... let me go! I have to find him!"

"I can't let you go," Johnny said, his voice firm, but compassionate. "I'm sorry. It's... it's too dangerous for you to go back in there. My..." It was painful for him to say it. "My partner's in there right now. I'm sure he'll find your husband."

The lady kept squirming, but she was running out of steam. Finally, she rested her head against Johnny's chest and broke down sobbing. "Harold... he's all I've got left..."

Johnny put his arms around her, offering sincere comfort. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," he said. "I know how you feel. My best friend is in there too."

There they sat, two distraught people hanging on to the end of a fraying cord of hope. They were strangers, yet they shared a common grief, a common fear, a common bond. It was a moment frozen in tableau, touching, poignant, interrupted...

"Did somebody lose this?" Roy DeSoto stood there grinning through the black soot that covered his face. He held an orange marmalade cat that also looked a little sooty, but other than that, was none the worse for wear. "This little guy was hiding in the bathtub."

"Oh..." the little lady smiled, her eyes glisteningwith tears. "Oh... Harold. Harold, you naughty kitty. I told you not to run away. I thought I lost you forever." She reached out to hold the cat, Johnny grabbing the IV cord so that it wouldn't fall out. This wasn't exactly proper protocol.

"I got stuck," Roy explained. "Chet and Marco cleared a path for me to get out."

Johnny smirked. He usually would be grinning ear to ear at a time like this, but he didn't know if he was relieved or angry. "You risked your neck to save a cat?"

Roy shrugged. "Well... I... I didn't know it was a cat. I mean, it could have been a person."

"Uh huh," Johnny quipped. "Sometimes you amaze me."

"Why are you so touchy?" Roy asked.

"I'm not touchy!" Johnny snapped.

Roy backed away. "Ok. You're not touchy." He whistled innocently and walked off.

Scene 6
"What's this?" Roy asked, looking bewildered.

"What does it look like?" Johnny asked, smiling. "It's mint chocolate chip ice cream."

Roy smiled, his mouth watering at the sight. "Mint chocolate chip, huh?" he said. "That's... that's my favourite ice cream."

Johnny grinned, setting a bowl full of the stuff in front of his partner. "Yes. I know it's your favourite. Dig in."

Roy picked up the spoon. The ice cold treat would feel good going down his throat. It felt a bit scratchy after his earlier stint saving the cat. He didn't understand what was going on with Johnny, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth either. "Uh... thanks," he said, blushing. "What's the occasion?"

Johnny watched eagerly as Roy put a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. "Well," Johnny said. "I.. I know I was a little short with you at the fire. I know I'm not always the easiest person to get along with either, but... that's all over. I'm turning over a new leaf. From now on, I'm gonna be the best best friend you could ever want."

Roy couldn't believe his ears. He wanted to pinch himself to see if it was a dream. He had seen Johnny run down a lot of rabbit trails in his day, but never, never had they been like this. A kinder, gentlerJohnny? It's way too good to be true, Roy thought. But, what the hey... I'll enjoy it while it lasts. Roy smiled. This was the best dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream he had ever tasted. He could get used to this... new best friend.

"That's not all," Johnny said, once he was certain that Roy liked the ice cream. "I've ordered tickets... two tickets... for you and me to go to a Lakers game."

Roy nearly spit out his ice cream. "A... a Lakers game?" Oh great. Here's the catch. He feeds me ice cream and I've gotta cover tickets to a Lakers game. Roy always got stiffed with the bill. He braced himself for the bad news and asked, "How much is the damage?"

Johnny's smile faded. "What do you mean?"

Roy paused. "How much for the tickets?"

Johnny shook his head. "Oh no... no way, my friend. I'm not telling. You might be tempted to pick up the tab and I'm not letting you do that. No. No Sir. This one's on me. Are you free on the 25th?"

"Ok. Who kidnaped Johnny? I don't know who you are, but I want my best friend back right now!" Roy demanded.

Johnny smirked. "Aw, come on, Roy. That's not funny. What's so strange about you and me going to a basketball game?"

Roy could have given a list, but decided not to rock the boat. After all, this was a good thing. He could take in a Lakers game for free. "What time do we leave?"

Johnny smiled. "Attaboy Roy. It'll be fun. You'll see. No women. No hassles. Just you and me and the NBA playoffs."

Roy gobbled down his last scoop of mint chocolate chip just as the claxon sounded, signaling that they were needed elsewhere.

Scene 7
"What do we got, Captain?" Johnny asked as he and Roy joined Station 8 at the scene of their latest rescue/adventure.

"Jumper," Captain Sharpe replied. "At least, I think that's what he's trying to do. I don't know if he knows."

Roy and Johnny followed the captain's pointing finger. Sure enough, there was a tall, thin man at the top of the building, about ten floors up. From where they stood, the paramedics could see his arms flailing wildly as he obviously conversed with somebody.

"Who's up there with him?" Roy asked, perplexed.

"That's just it," Captain Sharpe said. "Salvadore and Sweeney offered to go up, but they haven't had time to get to the roof. The elevator doesn't work. This place is abandoned. I think ChemCo went bankrupt."

Johnny and Roy looked at each other with that we've-entered-the-twilight-zone look. Johnny spoke. "Well then... who..."

"Johnny," Roy interrupted. "I think this guy's conversing with... his imaginary friends, if you get my drift."

The captain nodded affirmatively. This was a live one, the worst case scenario, an unpredictable loose cannon and there was no protocol, no procedure that could guarantee that either the victim or the firemen would get out of this without injury.

"You better get up there," the captain instructed. "And bring your gear with you."

The boys of 51 didn't need any further invitation. They hurriedly gathered their gear and hustled to the building and up the brutal ten flights of stairs that would take them to this lost sheep in need of a rescue.

"Man, are we glad to see you?" Salvadore whispered as the two paramedics reached the roof.

"Hi Sal," Johnny greeted, smiling. He wished he were meeting Salvadore under brighter circumstances. He liked the "Gentle Giant" who towered over most of his colleagues at 6' 7". "What's going on?"

Salvadore winced. "Well, it's a rough one. I tried to reason with him while Sweeney sneaked up from the other side." He shook his head. "No dice. The guy's got rabbit ears. He guessed our every move and... and... and I don't know how to reason with him. I mean, he's not rational, not even half rational. It'll take a miracle and... well... I guess I could put in a word for one of those."

Johnny smiled. Salvadore's faith was simple, child-like, profound. He never shoved it down anybody's throat, but if you needed a word put in with the Chief Inspector in the Sky, Tony Salvadore seemed to have a direct line.

"Ok. We'll see what we can do," Roy said, suddenly feeling less than adequate. He always felt that way during these types of runs. A broken leg he could deal with easily, but this situation couldn't be fixed with merely a bandage and a bag of D5W. "I'll... uh... I'll try to reason with the guy and... and you and Johnny and Sweeney come at him from... from different angles. Maybe that'll work."

They all nodded and waited for Roy's cue. "Hey there," Roy began, trying to get the victim's attention.

"They're... they're after me," the man said, his eyes wide with terror and dementia.

Roy would have to play along if he hoped to get anywhere with this man. "Who's after you?" The man's arms flailed again and Roy felt his muscles tensing up as he prepared for the possibility that this guy would lose his balance before they could get to him.

"Them," the man replied. "Don't you see? They're all around me. They... they want information, but... but I won't talk. No! You can't make me talk!!!"

"Who are they?" Roy repeated, while the other members of the rescue team tiptoed stealthily closer, closer, closer. The man noticed Dave Sweeney out of the corner of his eye and put up one hand to stop his advances. Sweeney froze... mid-stride.

The man's brow furrowed. He looked puzzled. "You don't know? You fool! It's the aliens. They... they want to read my thoughts. They want to know government secrets, but... but, I can resist. I can resist their mind probes."

"It's good that you can... resist their mind probes, "Roy said. "That makes... that makes you a strong person, doesn't it?"

Was that a half smile? Yes. It was. "It does," the man replied. "They'll never get anything outta me. Did you hear that?! Did you hear that, you... you ruthless, probing... *&^%$#@! I'll die first!"

Roy put his hand up to stop the man from jumping. "No. Please. Wait." Roy hoped his next move was right. If it wasn't, the focus would likely change from saving the living to bringing out the dead. "Well, if you're so strong, then... then why do you want to jump off the building? They can't probe you. You're safe..."

The man paused, examining Roy's face, perhaps looking for a hint of insincerity, trickery. "Idiot! I have to do it! Don't tell me I have to explain that to you!"

Roy took the bait. What else could he do? "Yeah. I'm a little thick. Could you explain it to me?"

The man smirked. He was downright condescending now. He poked himself in the chest with his index finger. "I'm the conduit."

"The... the conduit?" Roy felt like he was in a bad B movie.

"Yes. It's these implants. The aliens can find Earth easily because my implants act as a tracking device. If I jump off this building, the aliens can't find us anymore."

"I see," Roy said. "So, you're trying to save the world by... by jumping off a building..."

The man nodded. "Finally, Bright Boy! Sheesh! I can't believe you don't know that!"

Johnny and Salvadore continued closing in. They had all underestimated Roy's ability to reason with even the most unreasonable person. There was something mystically disarming about Roy DeSoto.

"Well, why do you have to jump? Isn't there some other way?" Roy asked.

The man rolled his eyes. "Duh! If there was another way, do you think I'd be on top of this building annoying all those firemen down there?"

Ok. That's logical... I think. Roy took a deep breath. This was intense. "Well," he said. "Why can't you just have the implants removed? I know a great doctor at Rampart who... who's an expert at removing... foreign objects."

A pause. You could see the light bulb going on above the man's head. It was true. He honestly had not thought of this before. He never got to finish thinking about it. At that moment, Johnny and Salvadore converged on the man like a swarm of locusts. The momentary distraction had been enough and suddenly, the two firemen wrestled the victim to the ground, thwarting today's plans to save the earth from aliens.

"Boy, he's strong for his size," Salvadore said, as they loaded him into the waiting ambulance. "Phew! I'd rather fight a raging brush fire than have another call like this one."

Johnny agreed. "Tell me about it. The next time you guys decide to have a party like this, you better invite us along." He turned to Roy.

"You got it. How could we do it without Dr. Joyce Brothers there?" Salvadore laughed. He always laughed at his own jokes. Roy just gave him a semi-dirty look, the type that said he was mildly annoyed, but it was nothing to worry about.

"You take care," Johnny said, giving the engine door a smack as the door closed and the engineer started her up.

"Saturday night, poker night at my place," Salvadore announced. "Michelle is away at her mother's and I'm having... men's night... mwahahaha..."

"Sounds great," Johnny said. "Uh... as... as long as you're not cooking, Sal."

Sal shook his head. "Nope. Pizza and pretzels. My culinary skills consist of dialing for take-out."

"Count me in... uh... if Joanne lets me," Roy said. Salvadore laughed again. The only thing that made him laugh more than his own jokes was watching a fellow hen-pecked husband squirm.

Scene 8
"Roy? Roy? Where are you?"

The scene was familiar, in an eerie way. The hallway, the endless empty rooms, the smoke, that sinking, foreboding in Johnny's gut. He followed the same route he had for three nights in a row now. He knew the inevitable waited for him, yet he seemed powerless to change the course of the dream. "Roooy?!"

Johnny followed nearly the exact same sequence of events. It varied a little, but not enough to make it noticeable. He ran toward his reflection. He found the gymnasium door. He heard Roy on the other side of the door, but there was no way to get to him. And then... and then... the running, the field, the tombstones... No! This can't be happening. Not again! Let me out! Let me out! Roy? Roy, you're not dead! You're not!

"Roy!" Gage sprang up in bed, the words projecting from his throat like bullets, loud, sharp, piercing. Large beads of sweat formed on his brow and his breathing was heavy, stilted, bordering on panic. The adrenalin rush slowly subsided, leaving Johnny alone, in his own apartment, with nothing but the darkness and this overhanging fear for company. Gage slid out of bed, welcoming the sensation of the cold floor beneath his feet. At least, he was in reality. This whole dream business was shaking his perception, clouding the line between the three-dimensional world and what lies beneath.

Gage walked into his own bathroom, flipped the switch and stared into his spotty, desperately-in-need-of-a-cleaning mirror. He stared at his haggard face, his tussled hair, the tortured dark eyes that he knew were his, but where was the spark, the zeal, the life?

"I..." He spoke to no one in particular. "I...can't... take... this..." He leaned back against the door frame, his weight welcoming the support. He had to lean on someone, something. No. This was too personal, too deep. He didn't feel that he could trust anyone with this thing.

"I can't lose Roy," he whispered. He shook his head emphatically. "I can't..."

Slowly, his emotions weakened and battered, John Gage slid down, down, down toward the bathroom floor. The hole in the dam was too big. His emotions gushed out in one impulsive, involuntary outburst. Sobbing and heaving, groaning and grieving, all converged in this tiny corner of space as John Gage the paramedic, John Gage the fireman, John Gage the tough guy faded away for a moment, letting John Gage the human being, just the human being, emerge from behind all his masks.

How long was he curled up there in the bathroom doorway? When he finally came out of it, daylight streamed through the window, greeting him like an old friend, bringing him comfort in knowing that the night and the dreams that went with it were gone, at least for the next few hours.

Scene 9
"I've noticed it too, Roy. Johnny is acting a little... strange." Dixie's words were a major understatement, part of her non-judgmental stance when dealing with colleagues that she respected and loved. Gage and DeSoto were two of those people. They were the brothers she had always wanted and she took every opportunity possible to chat and hear their latest exploits.

"I've seen him go off the deep end before," Roy continued. I've watched him chase girls, pipe dreams, windmills... you name it. This... this is something different and I can't quite put my finger on the cause."

Dixie smiled. When she did, the deep blue waters of her eyes sparkled. "It's bugging the heck outta you, isn't it?"

Roy sipped his coffee. "Yeah. Yeah... you bet it's bugging me." He nodded for emphasis. "I don't get it."

Dixie stifled a giggle. "Maybe Johnny is just trying to show you how much he... appreciates your friendship."

There was a pause. Roy chewed on that for a minute, then shook his head. "No, Dix. It's more than that. One minute he wants to take my head off and the next he's... rolling out the red carpet as if I were the president. Irrational... that's what it is."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Dixie sipped her own coffee. She savoured it as if it were the answer to all life's problems.

Roy sighed. "Yeah. I tried. He just... clams up or changes the subject, but... but, something's definitely eating him."

They sat in silence for a moment in the hospital cafeteria, enjoying each other's company, pondering Johnny's problem and what to do about it. Finally, Roy broke the silence.

"In the past two weeks, Johnny has given me... mint chocolate chip ice cream... twice..., tickets to a Lakers game, dibs on where to eat out... twice, Chinese take out and... that's only the half of it. He's been... well..."

"What?" Dixie's curiosity was piqued.

"He's been... nice."

Dixie giggled. "And that's a problem?"

Roy smiled too, suddenly realizing how ridiculous that sounded. "Yeah. It is... for Johnny. I mean, Johnny's a good guy, but he's not usually this... nice. He's... sickening."

Dixie grinned, an impish, mischievous grin. "Why don't you just sit back and enjoy it? I mean, you're benefitting from this... nice Johnny."

Roy grinned back. "Tempting, but no. I want the old Johnny back. I know it sounds crazy, but I want the brash, impulsive, bragging, selfish, yappy Johnny back. This guy... he just isn't my partner. Man... I'm crazy. I don't believe I'm saying this."

Dixie patted Roy's shoulder. "I understand. I wouldn't want him any other way either. Maybe... maybe it's a phase... you know... like he's been through before."

"I sure hope so," Roy confessed. "I don't know how much longer I can stand it."

Scene 10
"Station 51, Engine 116, Engine 36, structure fire. 1111 Sheffield. 1111 Sheffield. Cross-street Hampton. Time out: 18:40."

Captain Stanley grabbed the microphone. "Station 51 KMG 365." He scribbled the information down and rushed to join his men already in the engine.

Engines revving. Sirens blaring. Horns blasting. These familiar sounds greeted the surrounding neighbourhood as the "A" shift at Station 51 rolled out onto the street. They were axe-wielding, hose-spraying, soot-covered knights in bright red armor, the closest thing to round table heroes that the modern age had seen, and they were off to fight their common foe... again.

51 arrived first, followed momentarily by the engines from 116 and 36. "Hey! That's St. Pius!" Stoker commented. "My niece goes to school here."

"I don't see any smoke," Marco said, shaking his head. "Probably some kid pulled the fire alarm again."

"Sheesh... three engine companies on a false alarm? I hope not," Stoker replied. "I mean, I don't want the place to burn down, but..."

Hank Stanley didn't like this sinking feeling in his gut. He didn't like it because 99% of the time, it was right. It was giving him a warning that things were not what they seemed. "We better check it out," he said. "I hope it is a false alarm, but we gotta know."

"School's been out for hours," Roy commented. "I'll be surprised if the doors are open."

Johnny tugged on the front door. To his surprise, it opened with ease. He smiled and gestured an "after you" to his partner and to their present sidekicks, Tony Salvadore and Dave Sweeney.

"Surprise," Salvadore quipped, half-giggling the way he always did.

"Yeah," Roy said, smirking. "Go figure. I hope this is just some kids on a lark."

"That's one dangerous lark though," Johnny complained. "I mean, we got three engine companies here and the squad. What if some real emergency happens while we're here on a wild goose chase? That just burns me up... er..."

"You're a real punster, hey?" Salvadore laughed. "Burns you up... hahaha..."

Johnny rolled his eyes. Sal was laughing at his expense, but then again, he had walked into this one." Yeah, well, you weren't laughing so hard Saturday night."

Salvadore laughed all the harder. "Johnny, you had a little stroke of luck Saturday night. Best game of poker you ever played, hey? I hope you enjoyed it.You seem to have a stroke of luck... oh... say... about as often as we see Halley's comet."

Roy and Sweeney joined in the giggle. Sal had a way of putting things, but he wasn't malicious about it. He did it with such a smile, with such pleasantness.

"There's no smoke. No nothing," Sweeney said. He checked this way and that. "I think we've been duped."

At the end of the short lobby, the hallway forked two ways. The men decided that Roy and Sal would take one way and Johnny and Sweeney would take the other. That way there was a paramedic on both sides, just in case they did run into trouble, particularly victims.

Gage and Sweeney hadn't gone very far when they heard a noise. "It was this way."

"No. I thought it was this way," Sweeney said, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Man, it's hard to tell. This place echoes," Johnny complained.

They stood for a few seconds, hoping to hear it again. Nothing. Then... there! Another noise. This time it was distinctly the sound of... a sneeze.

"Roy! Sal!" Johnny called, wondering if his colleagues somehow managed to be nearby.

Another sneeze alerted the men that they were not alone here. Sweeney reached for a solid brown door, one of those heavy doors that were usually used for fire exits and stairwells. As the door opened, two figures, each measuring about 4 feet tall took flight, giggling and squealing as they ran from the firemen, obviously terrified at the thought of capture.

"Hmph!" Johnny grunted, disgust evident in his tone. "Just as we thought. Kids."

Sweeney reached for his handy talkie. "I'll radio the captains."

"Yeah. What a wasted trip!" Johnny smirked. He felt a grouch coming on. He might be grouchy for the rest of the shift at this rate.

"Hey!" Sweeney said, banging on the handy talkie. "Aw... this thing isn't working. I changed the batteries this morning. Don't you just love modern equipment?"

Johnny grinned and reached for his own handy talkie. "Here. Try mine."

"Thanks."

Sweeney proceeded to inform the captains of Engines 51, 116 and 36 that this was indeed a false alarm assignment and that they had a couple of prankster kids somewhere on the premises. John Gage didn't hear what Sweeney said. Something caught his attention. Something flashed. He noticed it out of the corner of his eye.

"What the... Sweeney, you go ahead. I'll be right back. I think I spotted those kids."

Sweeney nodded, acknowledging Gage's words. Johnny disappeared around a corner, in hot pursuit of the fire alarm bandits. He wanted to catch them so badly, he could almost taste it. Man! Will I give them a piece o' my mind! Man! I'm gonna lecture them for an hour... no... two hours! When I get finished with those kids, they're gonna respect firemen. They're gonna be crying Mama! Johnny's mind ranted. If Roy had been there, his mouth would have ranted too, but without company, that was no fun.

How long did Johnny pursue the would-be pranksters? He didn't know, but suddenly, instead of anger and the dogged determination to catch those kids, Johnny felt something else. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his gut burned with... recognition. The dull grey halls. Endless doors and corridors. This scene was familiar... too familiar. A lump formed in Johnny's throat. Man! Major deja vu!

Sweat beads broke out on Johnny's forehead. He fought a feeling of panic. "Calm down," he said to himself. "It's all right. It was... it was... it was just... just a... ROY! We gotta get outta here... NOW!" The words were barely out of Gage's mouth when, as if by some mysterious prophetic unction, thunder exploded, the ground beneath shook and the distinct smell of smoke began to offend Johnny's nostrils, barely at first, but growing fast.

"Something exploded!" Johnny said to no one. There was no one to say it to. Sweeney had left the building and here Gage was, standing in the hallway of a school he had never attended, yet he knew these halls better than he wanted to admit.

Instinctively, Johnny reached for the handy talkie on his belt. It wasn't there! Why wasn't it there?! He always had it! Sweeney! You loaned it to Sweeney, he remembered.

"Roy!? Roy!!!" Johnny yelled, reaching for his oxygen mask. The smoke swirled around him, like a million monstrous tentacles, grabbing, groping, gobbling up the little fireman that dared to defy it.

I should go back and alert Cap. I don't even know for sure that Roy's in here. Who was he kidding? He knew. He knew it as surely as he knew his own face. Roy was here and he knew just where to find him.

"I'm gonna save time," Johnny said, determined to beat fate. "I'm not even gonna check the other rooms. I'm just... gunnin'..."

Johnny ran as fast as any man can with an oxygen tank on his back. It helped to have so much adrenalin pumping through his system. It helped that he was in such good physical condition. It helped that his best friend's life depended on it.

"Roy!" he yelled. "I know you're here. Rooooy!!!" He ran toward the phantom fireman at the end of the hall, the one that ended up being a mirror, but this time, he stopped. He stopped just before the end of the hall and began to grope the wall. It should be here. Dammit! That door should be here!

"Roy???" Johnny yelled. "Can you hear me? Roy!!!" A muffled sound. Roy's voice. Johnny followed the sound and found the long, curved handle of the auditorium door. It's warm. Of course it is. "Roy! I'm here! Are you all right?" Johnny yelled, feeling bile rise in his throat. He had a stomach of iron and he had seen many harrowing things in his day, but this situation made him want to throw up.

"The other door... it's..."

"It's blocked," Johnny finished. "Yeah. I know. I'll get help. Just hold on!"

"Hurry!" Roy said. "... can't hold on... much longer..."

Johnny ran. He could have been Hermes, the messenger god with wings on his feet. He barely noticed his aching left ham string. This was the life of his partner, of his best friend. In many ways, this was his own life on the line.

"Cap! Cap!" Johnny yelled as he burst through the front doors of the building.

Captain Stanley met him, grabbing his shoulders to calm him down. "What is it? Gage... you're... white as a sheet."

"Roy! Roy's trapped in... in the school gym. I'm sure it's the gym."

A man in coveralls stood next to Captain Stanley. "There is a shorter way to the gym," he said.

Hank nodded. "Gage, this is the janitor. He'll show us how to get to the gym. Those kids must have set something off in the science lab on the second floor."

"Let's go!" Johnny said. "Roy's hurt."

Cap shook his head. "I don't think you should go in there. You don't look so good."

Johnny would not be denied. "Cap! Please! I gotta go in there. You don't understand. I saw this... I dreamed this... I... I..."

What made Hank Stanley go against his better judgment and allow Gage to go with the other firemen? He didn't know. Was it the absolute desperation in Gage's voice, in his eyes? Was it his own memory of losing a best friend and a partner years before? Whatever the reason, Hank nodded approval and sent Gage with Lopez, Kelly, Sweeney and Myers, from 116's.

"Here!" The janitor pointed. There was a door with no handle on the south side of the building. This was a bonafide fire exit, but would it lead them to Roy? It didn't seem logical that Roy wouldn't have used this door to get out of the building... unless... Marco started up the K-12. They were going through come hell or high water. The sparks flew. The machine whined, the door gave way to the blade and, in minutes, though it felt like hours to Gage, there was a hole in the door.

Gage wanted to run in like a maniac. He was stopped by flames leaping out of the doorway. Sweeney flooded the hole with foam, making a path for all of the men to get inside.

"Hurry!" Sweeney yelled. "I don't know how much time this buys!"

Gage ran into... a war zone. The explosion must have happened in a room directly above this one. There was a huge hole in the ceiling and fixtures and wires hung all over the place. Charred wood lay strewn everywhere and it was hard to tell what was what. The word 'mess' would be an understatement here.

"Roy!" Johnny yelled. "Roy! Where are you???" No answer. Johnny fought the urge to hyperventilate. "Roy!! Roy DeSoto!"

"Here!" yelled Chet, motioning for the men to help him pick up some fallen debris. Beneath that fallen debris lay... a man.

"Roy?" Johnny asked, rushing to the scene. His eyes were closed, complexion pallid, but it was Roy DeSoto. Johnny pulled off his own oxygen mask and put it over his partner's face. In no time, Roy lay across Marco's shoulders as the burly Mexican carried him out of the building, fireman style.

"Come on," Kelly said. "We better get outta here."

Johnny nodded. He didn't need any coaxing. "Come on," he motioned to Sweeney.

Sweeney didn't move.

"Sweeney! Come on!" Johnny urged, walking over to tug on his sleeve.

Suddenly, Johnny stopped dead in his tracks. Instead of motioning for Sweeney to leave, he motioned for Chet to come over.

There, lying in a heap, like a crumpled up wad of paper, was Tony Salvadore. It was obvious, just by looking at him, that he had been in the direct path of the projectiles from the blast. Johnny reached out to take a pulse, knowing already the inevitable, knowing that he would have to say the unbearable words, "He's gone" to Dave Sweeney.

"He was... my best friend," Sweeney said, his voice crackling like an old Victrola.

"Come on, Sweeney. We gotta go," Johnny said, patting his shoulder. "Let's... let's carry him out, ok?"

Chet instinctively took off his hat. His own blue eyes drooped with sadness as he realized the scope of what he was seeing. Sal. They all had a ball playing poker with him last Saturday. Now... he was gone. "Sweeney. I'm... I'm sorry, Pal," Chet said. "Man, I'm... I'm sorry."

Dave Sweeney said nothing. He picked his best friend up over his shoulders and, together, they carried his body out of this cruel, giant tomb.

Scene 11
"I still can't believe it," Chet said somberly, sitting at Station 51's kitchen table with his cold coffee. He couldn't drink it, but it comforted him just to hold it.

"Yeah. I know," Marco agreed. "Sal was... special." He crossed himself as he remembered his colleague. "Vaya con Dios, mi amigo."

Stoker walked into the kitchen. "I put the flag at half mast, Cap. I know he wasn't from our station..."

Cap nodded. "That's good. That's... ah, nuts... I got some paperwork to do." He retreated to the sanctuary of his office.

The rest of the crew sat there together, each man lost in his thoughts, in his grief. There was no bantering, no boasting, just the routine of a new morning. None of the boys had slept well and a dark cloud hung over them as surely as if some hot shot animator had drawn it above their heads.

Johnny hung up the telephone. He smiled. "That was Dixie. Roy's asking when he can go home. He'll be up and around in no time."

That was a cause to smile, a silver lining after all. "That's great," Marco said. "I can't wait for him to come back."

"Me neither," Johnny agreed. "I gotta put up with... Bellingham for the next few shifts."

"The animal," Chet said, trying to sound jovial, but it wasn't working. "I'm glad for Roy... uh... not so glad for you Gage..." His voice dropped off. "Sal...he had a wife and kids. Man... I feel for them. He wasn't just a fireman. He was a great guy too."

Johnny patted Chet's shoulder. "Chet, for once, I totally agree with you." Johnny hung his head, sighing loudly. "If only... if only I had gotten there sooner. I could've... I mean... and it shoulda been me with Roy in the first place, so I shoulda been the one to go. If only I..."

"Stop it," Chet said, firmly. "Stop it, Johnny. We got there plenty fast. There was no way to know what was going to happen and... and... furthermore, if you hadn't found Roy as fast as you did, we wouldn't have him either."

Marco looked up from his coffee. "That's true. Hey Gage... you never did tell us. How did you know where Roy was? I mean, that building is complicated. It winds and turns and... how did you find Roy so quickly? That's what saved his life, you know."

Johnny paused. He hadn't thought of that. Maybe that dream wasn't a curse after all. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was the reason Roy DeSoto was still living. "I... it's a long story," Johnny said.

"Come on, Gage," Chet urged. "Spill it. You didn't even have a handy talkie."

"Well," Johnny began. "I'll tell ya..." Gage looked at his colleagues, their eager faces. He wanted to blather everything. He opened his mouth to tell them."I... I..." A pause. "It was just one of those things. I mean, maybe Roy has an angel looking out for him or something."

John Gage didn't give his friends time to disagree with that. He walked out of the kitchen to let them stew it over, convinced that his dream, his story, would remain a secret between him, the lamp post and God.

Scene 12
"Sal was the finest firefighter I ever knew. He was more than that. He was the finest man I ever knew. And more than that. He was my best friend. Sal... I'm going to miss you, Buddy. I know you're having the time of your life right now. You always talked about Heaven and Jesus and angels and faith all the things that were so important to you. I laughed it off. I made fun of you sometimes, but... but, when the chips were down, you would say a prayer and... and somehow things would be ok. And you weren't afraid to get your own hands dirty and help out a friend."

Firefighters, doctors, nurses, civilians stood at St. John the Divine Cemetery, pondering the heartfelt words of Dave Sweeney as he eulogized his friend and colleague. The sun shone. The birds sang. The earth seemed at peace and at rest, and perhaps it was. Tony Salvadore was with God, the God he held in such high esteem. He was all right. It was the rest of the world that grieved and mourned at the loss of such a valuable life... too soon.

"Roy DeSoto told me that Sal pushed him out of harm's way in his last moment of life. That doesn't surprise me. Sal died the way he lived, as a servant to his fellow man. I think... I think that the one thing Sal left me is... is his faith. I never wanted it when he was here, but... but, now that he's gone... Oh... I wish I could tell him, but somehow..." Sweeney looked toward the sky. "I think he knows and he's smilin' at me. I want what he had and... and I'm going to try and be half the man he was. Sal... Sal... I swear I will..."

Dave Sweeney was a man of few words, but when he did speak, he meant every syllable. Tears streaked down many of the faces present as Sweeney spoke, not with great eloquence, but with deep meaning. In many ways, he represented all the firefighters, all of the men and women whose job took them to the brink of eternity every day. They all felt deeply for their colleagues, but held it in, reserving all of their emotions for moments like these.

Gage and DeSoto stood side by side, each silently thankful for the presence of the other. How easily it could have been one of them! Surely it would have been if not for the bravery of one man... and a dream.

As the crowd turned to walk away at the end of it all, Roy finally spoke. "I never did say thanks." "Thanks for what?" Johnny asked, perplexed. He handed Roy his crutches.

"Well..." Roy smiled. "For saving my life. If I'd been in there any longer, I..."

Johnny smiled. "I know. I know. The important thing is, you're ok." He looked back at Sal's coffin as they lowered it into the earth. "I wish... I wish..."

"Yeah, I know," Roy said.

Johnny did a double take. There, behind Sal's grave, something he hadn't noticed before. A huge slab of white rock stuck up out of the ground, engraved boldly with the word, "DeSoto... "Edward DeSoto." "Edward DeSoto?" Johnny said, shaking his head.

"What?" Roy asked, puzzled.

"Oh... nothing," Johnny replied. "Let's get outta here. This place gives me the creeps."

Scene 13
"Hey Roy! It's great to have you back," Cap said, patting him on the back as he walked into the kitchen for the first time since the incident.

"Yeah. It feels great to be back," Roy said, smiling. He plunked himself beside Johnny at the kitchen table. "Hey Johnny..."

"Hey Roy," Johnny quipped, his nose buried in the morning paper.

Roy DeSoto planned to start up a conversation, but he was distracted when he saw what Johnny was doing. "Uh... Johnny... what is that?"

"Ice cream," came the reply.

"First thing in the morning?" Roy asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. I'm hungry," Johnny replied, looking up from the paper. "So what's your problem?"

"No... nothing," Roy said. "It's just... strange, that's all. Most folks don't eat ice cream first thing in the morning."

"Well, I do. If I feel like a bowl of mint chocolate chip first thing in the morning, I'll have..."

"Mint chocolate chip?" Roy asked. "You... you're eating my mint chocolate chip ice cream?"

Johnny stopped... mid-bite. "Well, I bought it."

Roy got up and checked out the freezer. Sure enough, it was all gone. "You said you bought it for me."

Johnny never missed a beat. "I did, but... but, you weren't eating it anyway."

"Whaddya mean I wasn't eating it? I was recovering from an injury."

Gage shoved another spoonful into his mouth. "Well, that's not my fault."

Roy couldn't believe his ears. "Still, you don't buy somebody ice cream and then eat it! What if I felt like having some? What if I felt like it right now? In fact, what if I do?"

Gage shoved the last scoop into his mouth. "Well... you'll just have to mosey on down to the store and get your own ice cream, won't you?"

Roy was about to answer. He was about to argue. Suddenly, it dawned on him. He stood there for moment, absorbing the truth, then he suddenly slapped Johnny squarely in the back. "You're back! You're back! I'm so glad you're back!"

Johnny's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?

"Never mind," Roy said. "Enjoy your ice cream. I'm having a cup of coffee." Roy shuffled over to the coffee pot as Chet, Cap and Marco looked on in bewilderment. "He's back to his old self," Roy explained as he poured a cup of the steaming java.

"Whatever you say Pal," Chet replied. "Are you sure you don't need a few more sick days?"

Roy smiled. "Nope. I've never felt better in my entire life."

Johnny was selfish. Roy was alive. The boys of 51 were together and all was right with the world...

THE END - KMG 365

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