Chapter Text
One week later…
"…so Vince said since Doug confessed to everything, I don't have to take the stand."
Roy grunted as he looked at his partner's chart. His mouth pursed at Dix's notation about nightmares.
"Uh…so I promised Joanne we would steal Big Red and give it to your kids for Christmas. I mean, Cap will be mad, sure, but heck, it's for Christmas. What do you think?"
"Fine," Roy muttered as he flipped idly to the next page of John's chart.
"Roy."
Roy glanced over to find his partner frowning.
"Should I get Brackett?" Roy gave him a critical once over. John didn't look sunburned anymore but his color now went to the other extreme. "Feeling okay?"
John scoffed. "I'm fine. I've been fine for the past four days! Are you feeling all right?"
"Me?" Baffled, Roy could only stare at him. "I'm fine." He wasn't the one left to die in a trunk. He wasn't shot at or left behind by his part—Roy cleared his throat.
"Roy, since you got here, I got you agreeing to rob the First Valley Bank, put skis on our squad and steal Big Red to leave under your Christmas tree for your kids!"
The only thing Roy could think of was, "Mike wouldn't like that."
John glowered at him but after a few moments, he sagged into the pillows.
"You still hung up on that?"
After days of watching his partner slip in and out of delirium, painful convulsions and a coma, everything was reduced to 'that'.
"It shouldn't have happened," Roy sighed.
"Geez, Roy, where you've been these days? 'Cause I think it did."
Roy glared at John before his shoulders slumped.
"I shouldn't have left you at the squad alone. I should have realized what the clues you were leaving behind meant." Roy swallowed hard. "We could have found you faster." He could avoid the sickening lurch his stomach felt when the weak pulse faded under his fingertips. He could have avoided being stuck with the memory of watching his own partner arching up under the defibrillator.
"Aw, Roy. Cap showed me those notes. Heck, I don't think even I could understand what it meant."
The corners of his mouth tugged. "You always did have lousy handwriting."
"Hey, you try writing inside a moving vehicle." John gestured vaguely at Roy then himself. "If we're going to do this, I should have insisted on coming with you. I should have been able to convince that kid not to do this. And…" John's Adam's apple worked. "I should have been able to convince Jake Carson not to kill himself." Sighing, John stared glumly at the tray of food he'd been ignoring since breakfast. He sniffed loudly.
"I tried everything I could think of, Roy. I tried to talk him out of it. But…"
"He was too far gone in his head, Johnny," Roy said quietly.
"We've talked loads of jumpers off ledges." John scowled at his feet.
Roy shook his head. Only his partner would find himself in fault in all this. "It's not the same. He was going through some heavy stuff on his own. He was desperate enough to lie to his own family so he could get them to help OD him." Roy heaved a sigh. He punched John gently on a blanketed knee.
"But you got Stevie Carson to call 911. Him, you got to."
It was heartening to see Johnny nod, a tentative smile slowly spreading on his face. "I guess I did, huh?"
"Yup."
John blinked at the timid knock on the door.
"The guys?" John asked hopefully. He wouldn't mind a visit, especially after Morton put him on bed rest. He had one little fall trying to go to the bathroom yesterday and now there was a wheelchair parked by his bed and hourly check-ins by Dix herself. And boy, Brackett sure was loud yelling at him all the while he was checking John's pupils with his penlight.
"Doubt it," Roy said cryptically. He didn't move from his seat on the edge of John's bed.
John struggled to sit up higher but Roy was right on top of his blanket.
"Where do you think you're going?" Roy asked in a mild voice. He folded his arms in front of him and considered John.
"I was gonna let whoever that is i—Roy, would you get off?" John dropped back into the pillows, winded, his head spinning. Shoot, maybe that was a bad idea.
Roy studied him for a long moment before he said in a calm voice. "Nope." He leaned into the bed some more, resting his elbow on the pullout table pulled over John's legs.
Another knock.
"At least go see who it is! I mean, we shouldn't—they're knocking! We shouldn't leave them standing there." John fidgeted, but Roy wouldn't budge. Darn Dix. She came by and tucked him completely into the bed. He felt like one of those enchiladas from the stand on Murray.
The lazy and knowing smirk Roy wore rankled. John glowered but it only made Roy's smirk widen. Part of John, though, was kind of glad to see it; Roy had been moping around when he dropped by every day.
Roy craned his neck to look over his shoulder but moved nothing else.
"Come in," Roy said out loud. He snickered when John growled under his breath.
John paused though when the door opened, revealing Vince. John exchanged a look with Roy.
"Hey, Vince," Roy greeted with a wave.
"Hey, guys. John, how’re you feeling?" Vince stayed by the door.
"Fine." John tugged at his blankets, hoping Roy would take the hint. He didn't. "I'm just—Roy cut it out—just fine, Vince."
"Have a seat, Vince!" Roy offered cheerfully. He made a show of gesturing towards one of the chairs.
"Uh, thanks. I can't stay long. Just wanted to see if John was up for a visitor."
"So long he doesn't have to get up," Roy quipped.
"Roy!" John hissed. He yanked hard on the covers but it was like trying to pry a car out from under a truck without the jaws.
"Okay," Vince said slowly. He looked to his left and nodded.
John stilled when Stevie stepped into view. The teen looked a little different, younger now, his hair combed back, his clothing straightened and tucked in.
"Hi," Stevie said with a quaver. He rubbed a hand to the back of his neck. "I uh…I wanted to see how you were doing."
"Good. I'm doing great." John offered the boy a broad smile even though his stomach was still doing funny flip flops. Even though he knew Doug was in jail, John couldn't help expecting to see that bear coming out with that gun of his.
The Carson kid stumbled in a step after a nudge from Vince. Stevie rubbed his hands on his jeans.
"I uh…wanted to tell you. Jake's doing lots better. The doctors just got him off that list."
It was easier to smile now. "The critical list? That's great news."
Stevie looked at him wide-eyed. "Really?"
"Sure," Roy jumped in, "It means your brother is improving."
"No, no, I mean…" Stevie ducked his head. "I thought you would be sore at us; at Jake. After everything…um…"
"After everything Doug did?" John cut in. He paused when Stevie flushed. "Vince told me Doug Carson turned himself in. Told the police it was all his doing: the robbery, the kidnapping, everything."
It made his belly go into knots when Stevie screwed up his face, looking like he was about to cry. Aw, man.
"Guess you're gonna have to take care of Jake while Doug's away," John added hastily.
Startled, Stevie stared at John.
"Your brother has a hard road ahead of him," Roy added. "He's gonna need your help."
John met Stevie's gaze, waiting. He relaxed when Stevie slowly nodded. John slumped into the pillows even deeper.
Roy patted John's knee, his eyes on him, dark with understanding.
"Stevie's going to stay with Mr. Dunning while Jake cleans up," Vince told them. He dropped a hand on Stevie's shoulder. "Jake's going to check into the VA hospital. Stevie here is thinking of asking Mr. Dunning to help them fix up that salvage yard of theirs. Get it back in business again."
"Mr. Dunning's been cooped up in his apartment since his kid didn't come back from the war." Stevie shrugged. He smiled shyly. "Figured maybe it'll keep him busy." Stevie paused. "He's all right for an old man."
"Well, all right," John cheered. The day was definitely looking up and once Roy got off his bed, the day would be even better.
"Thank you for what you did," Stevie whispered. He rocked from foot to foot. "You tried to warn me. I-I wished I listened earlier. I wished a whole bunch of stuff was done different."
"Sometimes things happen," John replied, sobering. He glanced over to Roy and gave him a poke on the leg. "Doesn't make it your fault."
Roy glanced over to John and smiled faintly. He nodded.
"And it all turned out good," Vince assured Stevie.
"Except for Doug," Stevie pointed out softly.
"Your brother turned himself in and confessed to everything," John said somberly. He swallowed and tried to ignore the sensation of that gun digging into the back of his neck. "He's your brother; probably thought he needed to do what he had to do."
"Yeah, but he…I mean, the car…he stuck you in that c—"
"I'm fine," John interrupted in a firm voice. "My friends got me out. I'm fine."
"He's going to be all right," Roy added. He nodded farewell as the two left.
"Going to be?" John repeated archly once the door was shut
"The minute you can sit up without passing out, you're fine."
"I can sit up if you would just get off!"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means someone here has been having too many helpings of Marco's chili."
Roy glowered at him, mouth opened to retort when there was another knock on the door.
"Come in," Roy called out. He pointedly ignored John's glower.
"Hey, guys!" John grinned broadly as Cap and the others filed in.
"How's it going there, pal?" Cap—even in civilian gear, it was hard not to think of him as 'Cap'—rapped the foot board. Cap frowned. He nodded towards the bandage on John's forehead.
"Now, wait a second. That looks new."
If Roy wasn't pinning him on the bed, John would slide deeper into his covers. "Well," John fumbled. "It was…I kinda…"
"Have a seat, Chet," Roy said loudly. He reached over and patted the other side of the bed with a grin.
Chet looked at Roy then at John, his eyes narrowing on John's forehead. He grunted, a thumb idly scratching his mustache before he sauntered over and dropped down on the edge of the bed.
There was a slight bounce and when John tried to wiggle up higher on the bed, he found he couldn't and no, it wasn't because his legs still felt like mush or his head felt like it was barely attached.
"Chet, there's a chair over there," John gritted out.
"I'm good."
John tried to reach over to shove Chet off but that meant stretching and moving; energy he didn't have right now. He found himself slouched back into the pillows again, chest tight like he had just ran the 440.
"Forget it," John grumbled. He picked at the edge of his blanket.
"Cheer up," Marco said as he and Stoker sat down on the empty bed next to John. "Dix said you're only here for another two days."
"And Joanne has the guest room ready when you get out of here," Roy reminded him.
"And you're back on duty a week later," Cap added, his brow furrowed. He gave John a look which pretty much told John that his plan to cajole Cap to let him come back sooner was not going to work. John made a face but he peered up at Roy and thought about how the shadows were still under Roy's eyes. Guess being waited on hand and foot for a few days couldn't hurt, John thought. He gave Roy a toothy grin, to which Roy rolled his eyes as if he knew what John was thinking. Somehow, Roy always seemed to have the knack for that.
"Great." John offered the rest of the guys a crooked smile. "Appreciate you guys coming here on your day off." He squinted at the box Stoker set down on the pull out table. "What's that?"
"Heard you missed out on this before." Cap patted the box like it was a big, friendly dog. "We thought we’d bring you some."
"Unfortunately," Chet snickered, "We couldn't get Marco's sister to make that meatloaf again."
John blanched. Wait, he remembered that greenish gray lump. "Uh…"
"Glad to hear you liked it so much," Marco piped in. "My sister's trying something new. Hey, I'll bring some over for you guys to try!"
Cap hesitated. He asked carefully. "What is it?"
"Tofu burgers."
Roy fidgeted. He cleared his throat. "T-tofu…tofu burgers?"
John made a face. "Ain't tofu that white, wiggly…oh…" John swallowed. "Sounds delicious."
Chet guffawed. "No turkey or tofu in there. Just some good ole fashion Stoker fried chicken."
"Bon appetit!" Mike quipped.
"Um…" John hedged as he watched Chet and Marco eagerly open up the carton and steam from Mike's chicken wafted up. Cap clapped his hands together in appreciation.
"What is it?" Leave it to Roy to know something was wrong.
John scratched his jaw. He laughed awkwardly, looking up at everyone. Chet already had a drumstick in each fist, getting crumbs over John's bed, Cap stopped midway from pulling out his favorite piece (Cap only liked the dark meat) and Mike cocked his head at John, his hands still holding onto the plates he was passing around.
"Well," John averted his gaze but that didn't work because everywhere he tried, there was a mild frown turned in his direction. John brushed a hand over his chest.
"You see, I guess with everything going on…I-I and well, Doc said it's only natural I was still feeling kinda tired…" And drained, dizzy, wobbly and so darn thirsty all the time. "And the food here is just…well…you know…" John squirmed.
"No, we don't know…" Roy said. He leaned forward, a hand on John's arm, his brow furrowed. "What?"
John cringed and he shrugged one shoulder at them, his eyes on Roy. He smiled sheepishly.
"I'm not really hungry."
Roy's eyes widened and crinkled into that mix of exasperation and humor John pretty much knew and relied on when things got rough. If nothing else went right, John knew at least he could count on Roy; more reliable than any lifebelt or line he held on to. His partner never stayed mad at him too long and it didn't matter if John was drowning, choking or flailing in the dark, John knew whose hand would be reaching down to pull him up.
Roy shook his head even as the others groaned. Mike slapped a hand to his face. Cap and Marco pretended to throw a piece of chicken at him. Chet set down a plate hot and heaping full of chicken and coleslaw on his lap while muttering "Well you're eating anyway, Gage."
John grabbed a drumstick, raised it up in salute and grinned.