Into the Darkness

By Ginny (Beth) Tice

Part 2

A familiar fragrance woke Johnny. He struggled to orient himself, but he couldn't figure out where he was, and he couldn't remember anything that had happened. The face he saw was Dana's. Her perfume helped him recall her identity. He remembered smelling it on his clothes the day after their first date.

"Hi Johnny, " she moved toward him and smiled when she heard him stir, and saw him open his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"What am I doing here?" Johnny struggled to recall the events preceding this moment, but couldn't remember a thing.

"You're going to be fine. I'm going to go get Doctor Early. He'll explain everything."

Johnny reached over and clasped Dana's wrist, preventing her from moving toward the door.

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Johnny, just relax. I'll be right back with Doctor Early. She pried her wrist from his grasp and left the room.

Johnny lay back against the pillow, and felt a sting. He reached up to his head only to discover that his entire head was bandaged. He had an IV in his left arm, and an oxygen cannula in his nose.

Doctor Early entered the room with Dana close behind. They both walked to his bedside.

"Johnny, it's nice to see you awake." He pulled a penlight from his pocket and examined Johnny's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Doc, tell me what's going on!" Johnny tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea rushed through him.

"Johnny, you had a seizure. When you were brought in, you were in a coma. You had a subdural hematoma, a result of your fall last week. We operated, and you're going to be fine."

Johnny struggled to comprehend what he was being told.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"You've been through a lot. A clot on your brain ruptured, causing the seizure and the coma." Doctor Early could see the panic forming on Johnny's face.

"When did this happen? What day is it? How long have I been here?"

"We operated on Thursday. Today is Saturday. Johnny, look, you're going to be fine. I know it's hard, because you're experiencing some short-term memory loss. It will all come back with time, okay? I promise. You'll be as good as new. We're just very lucky that we caught it before something more serious happened. You should have had a CT scan when you were brought in last week, but there were no indications for it. Now, I want you to get some rest. I'll go tell Dixie to call the station and let them all know you're alright. I know Roy will want to see you."

Johnny couldn't focus his attention on what Doctor Early was saying. As the doctor was leaving the room, Johnny stopped him.

"Doc?"

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Thanks," Johnny smiled weakly.

"No problem. Now get some rest, I'll be back in a little while."

"Are you comfortable?"

Johnny had forgotten that Dana was in the room.

"I'm fine."

She approached Johnny's IV tubing and inserted a syringe of medication into the port.

"This is just morphine. It will help with the pain, so you can get some rest. Just push that button if you need anything, okay?" Dana moved toward the door.

Johnny didn't respond. Dana glanced back at him once and closed the door behind her.

His eyes closed, Johnny tried to force his mind to recall what had happened. He remembered being hurt in the warehouse fire. He remembered the days he spent at home following the injuries. He remembered driving to the station on his first day back to work.

He could remember nothing after that.

####

Johnny awoke the next morning when the sun streamed through the break between the beige curtains of his hospital room at Rampart. He was grateful for the sun. The dream he was having was disjointed and disturbing. He was breathing fast and hard as he reached up and felt the sweat streaming down the back of his neck. He knew that the narcotics he was receiving could account for the nightmares, but logic told him it was much more than that. Traumatic events could cause sleep disturbances as well. He lay back on his pillow, and turned his head away from the bright ray of sunlight.

"Good morning! You're awake early, Johnny, " Dana said as she entered his room carrying a small tray with the equipment used to draw blood.

"Mmmhhm," Johnny replied without turning his head toward her.

Dana sensed Johnny's mood. "I just need to take your vitals and draw some blood, then I'll leave you alone, okay? My shift is over in half an hour, but I'll be back in to see you tonight."

"Whatever," Johnny said, still not turning to face her.

She quickly finished her tasks, and left the room.

Johnny awoke when he heard Roy opening the door to his room. It seemed to him that he must have dozed for quite a while, because the sun had changed position.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Roy was on duty, wearing his uniform and carrying a small white box of IV supplies under his left arm.

"Mmm…. I dunno. It doesn't matter. What time is it?"

Roy set the box down on the other bed and looked at his wristwatch. "Ten-fifteen."

Johnny looked up at Roy, and saw a face he had never seen before. Roy's face was pale, and his eyes were reddening. He was fighting back tears. Johnny decided to lighten up the mood a bit.

"Hey! Did I sleep through breakfast? I was really looking forward to some gruel and instant coffee! It's almost lunch time!"

Roy chuckled and smiled stiffly. "Naw, I think we can arrange for some gruel. I'll talk to Dix for ya."

"Thanks, man."

Roy walked across the room and dragged a chair over to John's bedside.

"I have to get going in a minute, I'm on duty. Working with Dwyer today," Roy said, sitting down at Johnny's bedside.

"I guess even Dwyer is better than Brice," Johnny said.

"Yeah, I guess so. Listen, how are you doing? Do you need anything?"

"Naw. I'm fine. I just can't believe all this," Johnny said, reaching up and touching his bandaged head again, " I don't remember what happened."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Roy asked.

"I remember the fire, I remember being in the hospital, and I remember going back to work, " Johnny tried desperately to recall anything after that. "That's it. Nothing else."

He could see the anguish on Roy's face.

Johnny sat up in his bed and leaned over to face Roy.

"Roy, tell me what happened. Please."

"Johnny, I told you, I have to go. Dwyer's waiting for me downstairs." Roy shifted in his chair.

"Roy…" Johnny began.

"Look, I get off at six o'clock. I'll come back then, okay?"

Johnny laid back against his pillow and turned away.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Roy hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should leave his friend this way. He wasn't prepared to tell John all the details of their last run together. He knew that explaining to Johnny the details of what had happened would require more time than Roy had right now. It would be better to wait.

"I'll see ya later," Roy said and closed the door behind him.

"Yeah," Johnny said to no one in particular.

A nurse came in with a tray containing Johnny's breakfast. She set the tray in front of him and left without the usual niceties. She could sense that his state of mind was not good. After she left, Johnny stared blankly at the tray of food. The smell of the tepid eggs and greasy bacon mixed with the smell of the stale, overbrewed coffee made his stomach turn. He couldn't seem to find the energy to move the tray table away from his bed.

This isn't fair. I have a right to know what happened to me! He felt his face get hot. His heart was beating too fast, and he wanted to cry. He picked up his breakfast tray and hurled it toward the wall at the foot of his bed.

Hearing the racket, an orderly hurried into Johnny's room, followed closely by Dixie. Johnny was lying on his side, away from the door, so he did not see either of them. Dixie approached Johnny's bed, and the orderly left to get a mop and bucket.

"Johnny?" Dixie sat down on the side of Johnny's bed. She put her hands on his shoulders and gently guided so that he was once again on his back. He turned his head and looked at her. He felt comforted as soon as he saw her face.

"How ya doin', kiddo?" She smiled warmly and touched his cheek.

"Dixie," Johnny said, almost in a whisper, "No one will tell me what happened. I need to know." His eyes pleaded with her.

Dixie reached down and took his hand in hers.

"I'll tell you what happened, Johnny. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Going back to work last week after my accident."

"Last Thursday; your first day back at work; you and Roy went on a call -- a heart-attack case. Roy was driving the squad, and you were in the ambulance with the patient. You apparently had a seizure, and lost consciousness. The driver is unsure how long you were out before he became aware of the situation. He radioed to Roy, and they pulled over so Roy could board the ambulance. You and your patient arrived at Rampart about 4 minutes later."

Johnny looked hard into Dixie's eyes. He knew there was something she wasn't telling him.

"What happened to the patient?" Johnny asked. He already knew the answer.

Dixie tightened her fingers around Johnny's hand. Her eyes shifted away from Johnny's, and she took a deep breath.

"He didn't make it, Johnny."

Johnny felt his chest tighten and a lump form in his throat. He pulled his hand away from Dixie's and turned his eyes to the mess on the wall. The coffee was still dripping down the wall and he almost smiled when he saw scrambled eggs clinging to the screen of the ceiling-mounted television set.

"Johnny?" Dixie put her hand on his jaw and moved his head to face her.

"This was not your fault! Mr. Skinner probably would have died anyway. He had a massive M.I. He was in very bad shape!"

"How do you know that, Dix? How do you know he would have died anyway? No one knows how long I was out? It could have been minutes! Minutes that could have saved that man's life!" Johnny said "He needed me! He was counting on me! I let him down!"

The door opened, and the orderly stepped in carrying a mop and a bucket.

"Can you come back a little later?" Dixie asked.

The orderly left without a word.

"I know because I talked to Kel and Joe about it. They're fairly certain your patient was in cardiac arrest when you lost consciousness, and that he couldn't have survived."

"In cardiac arrest? I could have defibrillated him! You can't tell me that man's death isn't my fault! It is!"

Dixie could see that this discussion was upsetting Johnny to a point that could be dangerous to his health.

"Johnny," Dixie said softly, "you can't get this worked up. You've just had major surgery. You need to rest now as much as possible."

"I can't, Dix! What about that man's family? Do they know what happened? Do they know that I killed him?"

"I don't know anything about the man's family, Johnny. I'll talk to Joe in a little while and see what I can find out. If I do that, will you promise me that you'll at least try and get some rest?"

Johnny looked up at Dixie blankly. He could see the concern in her eyes. Concern for him. He knew she really did care.

"Okay. I'll try, Dix."

"Good. I'll be back in a little while."

####

True to his word, at just after six-thirty that evening, Roy entered Johnny's room. He was wearing street clothes and carrying a fast food bag and a plastic cup.

"Hi Johnny," Roy said as he wheeled Johnny's tray table over to the bed.

"I figured you had had enough gruel for one day, so I picked you up a burger and a milkshake. Don't tell Dixie, okay?"

Johnny moved his tray table closer and opened the bag. The smell of the cheeseburger made his stomach rumble, and he realized that he had not eaten since the day before. A nurse had come by around one o'clock with lunch, but he had asked her to take it away. He unwrapped the burger and dumped the fries out on the wrapper.

"Thanks, Roy. I don't think I could handle the Rampart Blue Plate Special tonight," he said as he consumed almost half of the burger in one bite.

Roy sat down in the chair which had not been moved since Dixie left the room earlier in the day. The two friends sat in silence. A silence that was interrupted only by the sounds of Johnny finishing his cheeseburger and slurping his milkshake through the straw.

When Johnny was finished eating, he wadded up the wrapper and the bag, and tossed them across the room, directly into the wastebasket.

"Four points," Johnny managed a half-smile.

"Yeah." Roy took a deep breath and leaned forward in the chair.  "Look, Dixie told me that she talked to you about what happened, about Mr. Skinner. Johnny, you need to know that it wasn't your fault. He was in really bad shape. He had lost consciousness just before we loaded him in the ambulance."

"Roy, you and I both know that I might have been able to save him," Johnny sighed.

"It doesn't matter now anyway. It's over."

Roy had tears in his eyes. "Johnny, this whole thing is my fault, not yours. I knew there was something wrong, and yet I let you go with the patient in the ambulance. I shouldn't have. I don't know what I was thinking," he covered his face with his hands and tried to stifle his sobs.

Johnny sat up and leaned forward in his bed. He put his arms around the shoulders of his partner and best friend. Roy reached up and returned the embrace, then abruptly pulled his arms back. He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve and sniffed.

"Roy, it's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted what was going to happen. Anyway, like I said, it doesn’t matter much who's at fault. What happened happened, there's no undoing it."

The door opened and Doctor Early entered Johnny's room.

"Hi Johnny, Roy," Joe said solemnly, as he walked around Johnny's bed to the opposite side.

"Hi Doc," Johnny and Roy said almost simultaneously.

"How ya feeling, Johnny?" Joe asked.

"I've been better," Johnny responded.

"I know, Johnny. Are you in pain?" Doctor Early reached over Johnny's head and gently examined the bandages.

"It's not bad. When can I go home?"

Doctor Early pulled a penlight out of his coat pocket and examined Johnny's pupils.

"Well, barring any complications, I'd say you could probably go home on Tuesday. That's if you get plenty of rest between now and then."

A nurse entered Johnny's room carrying a tray, which she set down on the tray-table in front of Johnny. Johnny looked down at the food and then smiled at Roy. Roy smiled back and moved the tray table into the corner of the room.

"Got a problem with our cuisine, Johnny?" Doctor Early asked.

"Naw, I'm just saving it for later, Doc," Johnny answered, as the characteristic crooked grin appeared on his face for the first time in a week.

"Dixie said you were asking about the heart patient who died."

"It's okay, Doc. Roy told me what happened," Johnny said.

"Johnny still thinks it's his fault, Doc."

"We have no evidence of that, Johnny."

"I know." Johnny leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Well, try and rest tonight, and I'll come by and see you tomorrow," Doctor Early said as he stepped toward the door.

"Thanks, Doc. I will. See ya later."

"I should go, too. Let you get some rest." Roy stood up.

Johnny suddenly felt as if there was something more to say to Roy, but he couldn't find the words.

"Roy?"

Roy stopped and turned to face Johnny. He disliked seeing his partner this way, helpless in a hospital bed, his head bandaged, hooked up to IVs……

"Hmm?"

Even from where Roy was standing, he could see the tear roll down Johnny's cheek. Johnny could say nothing.

"It's okay, Johnny. I'll see you tomorrow."

Johnny lay back against his pillow and tried to sleep.

####

Johnny jumped when he heard the knock at his door. He remained seated in the thickly cushioned chair for a moment as he caught his breath. His momentary start turned to disgust at the thought of having to exchange pleasantries with whoever stood on the other side of his door. For the five weeks since he had left the hospital, not a day had gone by that a friend, a neighbor, or a fellow firefighter hadn't stopped by. He knew why they came. Even without being at the station, he could hear the words. Words of concern. Concern for him.

Slowly, Johnny pulled himself out of the chair, and re-tied the belt to his robe as he walked to the door.

He opened the door to see Chet standing in the hallway holding a large covered pot. "Hey, John." Johnny hadn't opened the door all the way before Chet was pushing him aside and making his way to the apartment's small kitchen. Johnny followed him.

"I made some Irish Stew for the guys and I had some left over, " Chet said as he tried to find a spot on the avocado-green stove. He turned the burner to low heat.

"Thanks Chet."

Chet looked at Johnny again, and his stomach sank. His hair was almost to his shoulders, and didn't appear to have been washed in weeks. He hadn't shaved in at least as long.

"Nice beard, man. When was the last time you got a hair-cut?"

"You mean getting half my head shaved for brain surgery doesn't count as a hair-cut?"

As he was talking, Johnny watched Chet's eyes move around the kitchen.

Three black garbage bags sat on the floor in the corner between the refrigerator and the window. It seemed that every pot and pan Johnny owned was on top of the stove, most crusted with remnants of what had been cooked within. Empty cans which had at one point contained various staples such as spaghetti, baked beans and tuna littered the countertops.

Chet wrinkled his nose and reached over the garbage bags to slide the window open. "John, how long's it been since you took out the garbage, man?"

Johnny felt his cheeks get hot. He couldn't decide if he was angry at Chet for sticking his rather prominent nose where it didn't belong, or humiliated that his friend was bearing witness to what was left of his existence.

"Chet…" Johnny's voice trailed off as he turned and headed back to the chair in which he'd basically lived for the past five weeks.

Chet followed and seated himself on Johnny's sofa. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and faced Johnny.

"John, you gotta snap out of this buddy," Chet said. Johnny wouldn't even turn his head to look at him. Three pizza boxes were strewn on the floor in front of, and underneath the coffee table.

"The Cap wants to know when you're coming back. We all miss you, man. Doctor Early said you're okay to work, so what's goin' on here?"

John finally turned to face Chet. "I'm not ready. Okay? I'm not ready! You got that?"

Chet rose from the sofa and stood for a moment, looking down at Johnny. He could think of nothing else to say. John seemed in far worse shape than he had prepared himself for.

"Don't forget about the stew, it's on the stove," Chet said, kicking two pizza boxes out of his way and moving toward the door.

####

"I'm tellin' you, Roy… I've never, ever seen Gage like this. He's losin' it, man! We gotta do something!"

The lunch dishes had all been pushed aside by the respective members of Station 51. No one could concentrate on eating after what Chet had described to them about his visit the day before.

Roy stared out the window. All eyes were on him. As Johnny's partner and best friend, everyone expected him to have an answer. He didn't. He had seen for himself the state in which Johnny was existing. On one visit several weeks prior, he had been told by Johnny himself not to return, after offering some unsolicited and unwelcome advice. There seemed to be no getting through to him. He appeared to have given up.

"I don't know what to do, Chet. He clearly doesn't want my help - he's told me so. It doesn't appear as if he wants any help!"

From directly across the table, Captain Stanely leaned forward on his elbows.

"What about if all of us went over there together? He at least needs to know that we care about him!"

"That just might work, Cap," Mike said. "I say let's do it.

"I agree. It's worth a try." Roy stood up and cleared away his lunch dishes.

####

Two days later, on their day off, Roy, Chet, Mike, Captain Stanley and Marco all met in front of Johnny's apartment. They had not planned what they would say to him, and they had no idea what his reaction would be to their surprise appearance. Solemnly, all five walked up the sidewalk to the front door and entered the building. When they got to Johnny's apartment door, Roy took a deep breath and knocked.

Dammit, what now? Johnny thought as he climbed out of bed. He had been in a deep sleep, and did not welcome the interruption. On the way to the front door, he stopped in the bathroom to check the mirror, but the entire apartment was so dark, he couldn't see anything. He rarely turned lights on anymore.

He unlocked the door and turned the knob.

Johnny's first instinct upon seeing his five co-workers in the hallway was to slam the door in their faces. He knew that would not help, and in fact, would probably make things worse. Instead, he greeted them as if seeing them all there was a normal occurrence.

"Hey guys. What's up?" He remained standing in the doorway, and tried to avoid opening the door further than he had to. Although he didn't mind it, he knew what his apartment looked like to others. Dark, all the curtains had been pulled, strewn with garbage, and worst of all, reeking.

"John, we'd like to come in," Roy said. "Is that okay?"

"Um, now's not really a good time." John began to slowly close the door.

Chet stepped forward and put his foot between the door and the jamb to prevent it from closing. "John, we just wanna talk to you, man."

Johnny opened the door to allow his friends to enter, and stepping over piles of newspapers, made his way to his favorite chair into which he sank and put his head in his hands.

His friends filed into the living room, seating themselves on the sofa and two available chairs. Mike turned on two lamps

Johnny wouldn't look at any of them. He squinted at the television set until his eyes adjusted to the light. In the blank television screen, he could see the reflection of the entire room; he could see the concern in their faces.

Roy began to speak.

"Johnny, we all know what a rough time you've been having. What happened to Mr. Skinner clearly wasn't your fault, but that doesn't really matter anymore. You feel responsible for his death. You can't go on like this. You haven't showered or shaved in weeks. You've lost a lot of weight. You look terrible!"

"This has nothing to do with Skinner, man!" Johnny stood up and began to yell, "I just had surgery! I'm recovering!"

"Johnny, Doctor Brackett cleared you to return to work three weeks ago. You're just fine, physically," Roy said.

"What does he know?! He's not me! What happens if I go back to work, and someone else dies because of me! Then what?" Tears were rolling down Johnny's face and into his beard. He was furious at himself for letting his friends witness this despair.

There was silence in the room. Johnny had accidentally admitted that his depression stemmed from his feeling of responsibility for the death of Mr. Skinner, and for fear that it could happen again.

"Johnny, you wanna know something?" Roy asked. "I feel that I was far more responsible for Skinner's death than anyone! I knew you weren't well, and yet I let you go on the call that day. I was so wrong!"

Captain Stanley stood up to face Johnny. "John, you need to come back to work. You're just letting your life slip away here.  Day by day, you're sinking deeper and deeper. I have arranged for you to see someone through the Department. He's a counselor. He helps firefighters and paramedics deal with stuff like this. It's his job."

"John, please come back, " Marco said from the sofa, "we really need you."

Johnny sniffed and reached for a dirty napkin off the floor with which to wipe his nose.

"Johnny, I promise you, I won't let you enter a situation like that again." Roy said, "I'm your partner and you're my best friend. We need to look out for one another. I promise to do a better job at that."

Johnny looked around the room at his friends. He was amazed that any of them could possibly still care about him. Especially after the way he had treated them over the past several weeks.

In his entire life, no one had cared for him the way these five men did. As he looked at Roy, he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

Johnny reached over and handed Roy the dirty napkin.

"Here, man, " Johnny grinned at his best friend, "wipe your nose."

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