Crossroads

Crossroads

An Emergency! Slash story
By The Fairy Queen

********************

Come on baby let's get out of this town
I got a full tank of gas with the top rolled down
There's a chill in my bones
I don't want to be left alone
So baby you can sleep while I drive

You know I've seen it before
This mist that covers your eyes
You've been looking for something
That's not in your life
My intentions are true
Won't you take me with you
And baby you can sleep while I drive

Melissa Etheridge

~~~~~~~

"Roy, watch out!"

At Johnny's shouted warning, Roy half-turned, instinctively throwing up one arm to protect his face even before he knew what it was he was protecting himself from. A large flaming chunk of the old building's collapsing ceiling hit him, and he staggered. His upraised arm and helmet deflected most of the debris, but a spray of sparks showered him, some of them dancing down the collar of his turnout coat.

Roy dropped the hose he was holding and twisted and flailed, trying to get the cumbersome coat off. Suddenly Johnny was in front of him, pushing his hands away and undoing the fastenings for him, pulling the coat off his shoulders. Then he was leading Roy outside, away from the dense smoke and crushing heat of the intense fire inside the abandoned greeting card factory.

Outside, Johnny gently pushed on Roy's shoulders, urging him to a seated position on the back of the squad. He removed his partner's breathing apparatus and gazed into his clear blue eyes. Roy seemed dazed, reminding Johnny of the time Roy had become disoriented while fighting a blaze in a fancy single's bar. He had been suffering from heat exhaustion then, and Johnny thought he might be suffering from it again.

"Roy, can you hear me? I'm gonna take your shirt off, I need to see if you have any burns, okay?"

"'kay, Johnny," Roy tried to help his partner remove his uniform shirt, now soaked with his sweat, but his fingers would not cooperate. Again Johnny gently pushed his hands away and unfastened the buttons.

"John, what have we got? Is he okay?"

John turned to see Captain Stanley behind him, shouting to be heard above the roaring of the fire and the general cacophony of so many men and so much equipment engaged in the battle against the huge inferno.

This was the second four-alarm blaze in as many weeks in 29's district, and the second time 51 had been called out as backup. The first fire had quickly been ruled arson, and all indications pointed to this one being so as well. Johnny squelched the sudden flare of anger that rose in him at the idea of Roy being hurt in an arson fire. Firefighters realized and accepted the risks they took fighting blazes as part of the job they did as public servants, but a fire caused by an accident or an act of God was one thing - one caused by some sick person's quest for a thrill was quite another.

"I'm not sure yet, Cap. He's acting a little out of it, and I think he's got some burns on his back. A big piece of the ceiling fell on him. I'll know more in a few minutes. Can you get the biophone for me?"

"Sure, pal."

While Cap set the phone up, Johnny finished removing Roy's shirt. As he tugged the sleeves off Roy's arms, Roy leaned forward until his forehead rested against Johnny's chest. "Johnny, 'm so tired," he slurred.

"It's okay, man, just take it easy. Cap, can you get me the oxygen, too?" Johnny tried to move Roy to an upright position so that he could look at his burns, but Roy resisted. Finally Johnny gave up, and let him rest there until the Captain came back with the oxygen. Unable to resist the urge, he brought one hand up to caress Roy's cheek. "Everything's gonna be all right, Roy," he whispered, "I'll take care of you, okay? Just hang in there." Roy responded by nestling deeper into Johnny's chest. Then Cap appeared with the oxygen, and the moment was over.

Captain Stanley held Roy upright so that Johnny could put the oxygen on him and treat the fortunately minor burns on Roy's neck and upper back. John relayed Roy's vital signs to Dr. Early, who recommended immediate transport. John left with Roy in the ambulance, and with the fire now under control, Cap sent Chet to follow them to the hospital in the squad.

As the two vehicles pulled away, no one took notice of the tall blond firefighter who had been watching the entire scene unfold. He wore an expression of disdain that twisted his otherwise blandly handsome features into an ugly mask of hatred.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, Roy, you do seem to have the luck of the Irish on your side." Kelly Brackett removed the stethoscope from his ears and smiled down at Roy, resting on the exam table.

Roy smiled weakly and dragged his arm across his brow, wiping away the cold sweat that seemed determined to reform there just as soon as he removed it. "Can I get out of here, then?"

"Sure, go on. Just keep ointment on those burns till they heal, and don't go back into work today, all right? When is your next scheduled shift?"

"Thursday."

"Well, I think you should be okay by then. Be your own judge, Roy. If you feel up to going to work Thursday, you have my blessing. Today, go home and rest."

"Thanks, doc."

"Sure." Brackett patted Roy's arm and left the room.

Johnny helped Roy sit up. "You still dizzy?"

"Not really. Just really, really tired."

"That's to be expected. Those burns hurt much?"

"Nah. I've had worse sunburns."

"I bet you have, paleface. C'mon, let's get you home."

"You can't go home with me, Johnny. Cap will be expecting you back at the station."

"Don't freak out, Roy. I'll drive you home and then go back in. Cap already okayed it." He handed Roy his wrinkled, rank smelling uniform shirt with an evil gleam in his eye. "Make sure you take a shower before I get home, okay?"

~~~~~~

Over his two days off Roy recovered quickly and with no complications. When Thursday came, he was back on the job. The men of A shift were just sitting down to a friendly game of poker when the tones sounded. "Squad 51, child sick, 104 Terry Road, cross street London, one zero four Terry Road, time out, 14:49."

As the squad pulled out, the man sitting behind the wheel of the white Dodge pickup truck parked across the street quickly slid down in his seat, hiding from the paramedics. As soon as the squad was out of sight, he got out of the truck and jogged across the street and into station 51.

Mike Stoker looked up from his book at the man walking into his station's kitchen. He frowned slightly, then his face cleared. "Mark Miller!" Mike put his book down and jumped to his feet. "How the hell are you?" He grabbed Miller's hand and pumped it twice.

"Hi, Mike. Long time no see. How's your wife doing?"

"Oh, she's great, man. Gosh, good to see you. How's everything at 29's?"

"Just great, for now. We're still resting up from that last firebug's job, and hoping like hell there ain't no more of 'em. Listen, Mike, I need to talk to your Cap. He around?"

"Yeah, sure, he's in his office. I'll walk you over." The two men left the kitchen and walked across the bay to Cap's office, the normally reticent Mike Stoker chatting away excitedly. He and Mark Miller had gone through training together, and had worked at the same station for two years.

Mike rapped on the Captain's office door. "Hey, Cap, I got someone I want you to meet." Mike introduced the two men, who exchanged the usual pleasantries. After a somewhat awkward silence, Miller cleared his throat. "Hey, Mike, think you could give Captain Stanley and me a few minutes?"

"Oh. Oh, sure. Hey, no problem." Mike shook Miller's hand again. "Really great to see you again, Mark. Don't be a stranger."

Cap motioned for Miller to take a seat. "How can I help you, pal?"

Miller took a deep breath. "I'll get right down to it, Cap. How much do you know about those two paramedics you got working out of this shift?"

Stanley frowned, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt question. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Miller gestured impatiently. "I mean, doesn't it strike you as a little bit weird that DeSoto moved in with Gage after he got divorced? I mean, they already work together, and now they're living together. I mean, that's gotta strike you as funny, if you know what I mean. It sure did me, from the minute I heard about it."

Cap pushed himself back in his chair, a frown creasing his lean, handsome face. "I don't think I like where you're going with this, Miller. Are you insinuating something about Gage and DeSoto?"

"I'm not insinuating anything! I'm outright telling you, Cap, those two guys are homos!"

Stanley winced at the ugly phrase. "You're way off base, and you're also way out of line, Miller. I won't have you coming into my station and making those kinds of unsubstantiated remarks about my men." Stanley was growing angry. "Even if what you're saying is true, which I don't believe for a minute, why the hell do you care?"

Miller sputtered in disbelief. "Why do I care??? Me and my guys have been working these arson fires with your station. We need to know that the guys we have backing us up are dependable!"

Captain Stanley jumped to his feet and leaned forward, placing his hands flat against his desk, his temper finally stoked to the boiling point. Even so, he was careful to keep his voice down. "John Gage and Roy DeSoto are two of the best firefighters in LA county. They are as dependable as they come, mister. Now I think you better get out of here while you can still leave under your own power!"

Cap stared across his desk at Miller, and despite his own anger, still managed to be concerned at what he saw. Miller was enraged. His blue eyes glittered with an almost insane frenzy, his face was flushed and sweating, and he shook uncontrollably. When next he spoke, he sprayed the air with spittle.

"Me and my guys have been talking this over, and we all say it's gotta stop, Cap! Those two guys don't belong in the fire department! They're a disgrace to all of us! If you don't do something about those guys, we will! We already decided! We're going to McConakee! We'll just see what he's got to say about Station 51 letting this kind of thing continue!"

"Miller, get out of my station. And don't come back. If you do, I will have your head on a platter, understand me? You're damn lucky I don't report you to your Captain for this." Stanley stared coldly at the trembling, red-faced man who stood before him clenching his fists. "What you're doing is called 'slander', Miller. Keep doing it, and you'll find yourself in a hell of a lot more trouble than what I can give you. Now get the hell out." Cap fell back into his chair, furious and disturbed.

Miller turned on his heel and almost flew out of the building, passing three open mouthed, staring fire fighters on his way out the door. Mike called to him, but he didn't even slow down. Mike, Marco and Chet exchanged worried glances. What the hell had that all been about? Captain Stanley appeared in the doorway of his office. "Stoker, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mike walked into the Cap's office, still shaking his head in amazement. Before he closed the door in their faces, Chet and Marco heard Cap say, "Tell me everything you know about this guy, Mike."

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

"I'm serious, Roy! I think we have a real chance of winning the inventions competition this year! This invention will revolutionize firefighting!" Johnny leaned back against the seat and scratched his head, frowning slightly. "If I can just figure out a way to get around the explosion risk.."

Roy smothered a grin. "Well, it's got a better chance of winning than Chet's human fly shoes, anyway. But then, what wouldn't?"

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Listen, when we get back to the station, you have to help me work the bugs out, okay?"

Roy groaned. The last thing he wanted right now was to be coerced into helping Johnny with one of his harebrained schemes. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and stretched in his seat, then rolled his head around on his neck. He was very tense, and couldn't seem to relax. This call had been a tough one, as all the ones involving children were.

The sick child turned out to be an 18-month-old baby who was listless and non-responsive, with a very high fever. All sorts of scenarios played out in Roy's head as he treated the infant. . . meningitis, leukemia, there were so many horrible things that could cause the symptoms the little girl presented. When Dr. Early diagnosed the flu and told the girl's parents she would be just fine after rehydration and a few days of rest, the child's mother burst into tears of relief. Roy had felt like weeping as well. It was times like this he realized just how much he missed seeing his own children every day.

"Hello, earth to Roy. Are you going to help me?"

"I don't know, Johnny. I think I'd like to maybe watch a little TV when we get back, just try to unwind a little."

Roy could swear Johnny actually pouted. "Oh, okay. Sure. Fine. Whatever." And he leaned back against the seat, arms crossed across his chest, wearing the petulant look Roy knew all too well. Roy sighed. Why did he have the feeling he'd be out in the station's back yard helping Johnny with his invention five minutes from now?

Roy backed the squad into the bay, and Johnny barely gave it time to stop before he hopped out, headed toward the bay's back doors. Roy started to call to him to wait, he was coming, when Captain Stanley appeared in the doorway of his office, wearing a serious expression. Mike Stoker stood behind him, looking both concerned and something else that Roy couldn't quite put a name to.

"Roy, John, can I see you both in here for a minute?"

Roy and Johnny exchanged worried glances. What sort of trouble were they in now?

"Have a seat, guys. Mike, close the door for me, okay Pal?" Mike nodded and left. Johnny tried to meet Mike's eyes as he walked past John's chair, hoping for some kind of clue to what might be going on, but Mike studiously avoided his gaze. Johnny was beginning to get a very, very bad feeling about this.

With Mike gone, Roy and Johnny turned expectantly to their captain. Neither man showed it outwardly, but inside they were both wrenched with apprehension. Neither had seen Cap this serious since they'd been accused of being thieves. Whatever Stanley was about to tell them, they were certain it wasn't going to be good.

"I don't know how to say this, this is really putting me in a spot, I don't think I've ever had anything quite this . . . unusual . . . happen before. . ." Cap realized he was babbling, and started over. "While you guys were gone, I had a visitor, fireman by the name of Mark Miller, from 29s. Either of you guys know him?"

"No, Cap, not me."

"Never heard of him, Cap."

"Well, he knows you two. And Stoker knows him, they went through training together. Mike says he's a standup guy, he's been commended twice for bravery above and beyond." Cap sighed deeply. He felt as though he was supporting the weight of the world on his shoulders, and much, much older than his 37 years. "Unfortunately, he also had some rather - disturbing things to say."

The suspense finally became too much for Roy, and he spoke up, his voice a bit higher than usual, as it usually became when he was stressed. "Cap, please, what did he say?"

Stanley sucked in a huge breath and forged ahead. "He implied that, hell, no he didn't imply, he came out and told me that you two guys are, are involved with each other. In a sexual way."

Everything switched to slow motion for Roy. He suddenly felt as though he was trying to breathe molasses, he had such trouble getting enough air into his lungs. His mouth fell open, and he took a few gasping breaths. A thousand denials sprang to his lips, but he couldn't get his mouth to work. Captain Stanley's concerned face wavered and faded, and playing out before his eyes, almost as if he were watching a movie, Roy saw himself and Johnny being relieved of duty and drummed out of the fire department. He saw his ex wife's face as she stood before a judge in family court, telling a stern faced, disapproving judge that Roy was unfit to see his children. He saw his coworkers, his brothers in the fire department, turning their backs in disgust when they saw Johnny or him.

"ROY!" Jolted out of his dismal reverie, Roy startled violently and looked up to see Captain Stanley and Johnny both staring at him in alarm. "Roy, are you going to pass out?"

Roy tried to speak, and nothing came out but a distressed squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, Cap, I'm okay." Roy leaned forward, elbows braced against his thighs, hands dangling between his splayed legs, clenched tightly together to keep them from shaking. He took deep, measured breaths, but still feared at any moment he was going to throw up, or faint, or both. The blood roared in his ears so loudly he couldn't hear what either of the other two men was saying. Roy was dimly aware that he was leaving Johnny to defend them alone, but it couldn't be helped. He was paralyzed.

Johnny reluctantly dragged his attention away from his distressed partner after Captain Stanley had called his name twice, and stared mutely at his superior, his dark eyes wide and glittering. He thought he was better off than Roy, who looked like a terrified rabbit ready to bolt for his burrow at any second, but not by much. He knew Captain Stanley expected them to deny the allegations, but Johnny couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Johnny, I have to admit this isn't quite the response I expected, from either of you." Hank Stanley was stunned. Looking at his two men, he realized he didn't need to hear anything further from either of them. Roy's panicked near catatonia and the usually overly garrulous Johnny Gage's muteness gave him all the confirmation he needed.

Hank struggled with his dilemma. Part of him told him that this was none of his business, but the other part, the part that felt like a surrogate father to his men, needed to know what he was dealing with.

"Look, guys. Oh, good Lord. I don't think I need to hear either of you say anything that's going to make you uncomfortable. I'm assuming that your silence isn't caused merely by the shock of Miller's claims. Before we go any further, does either of you want to deny what he said?"

His question was met by matching stares from equally pale and stricken faces. Neither man said a word.

Cap buried his face in his hands. His head ached. In fifteen years in the LA County fire department, he'd never had to deal with anything remotely like this. Hank Stanley wasn't a bigot. Especially when it came to the men he worked with, he didn't care what anyone's color, background, or religion might be, as long as he did his job. He supposed he didn't care what their sexual orientation might be either. It's just that he'd never thought about it much. Stanley rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and groaned aloud. Then he came to a decision based on instinct and gut feeling, based on his feelings for and experiences with the two men sitting in front of him, looking as miserable as condemned men going to the gallows. He hoped he wouldn't live to regret that decision.

"Okay, guys, this is the way it's going to be. This conversation will never go beyond this room." Roy's head snapped up, and he and Johnny stared at Hank in disbelief. Stanley ignored their incredulity and continued.

"As far as I'm concerned, this discussion never took place. I'm not going to go into my personal feelings about, uh, about your living situation, I'll just say that you can rest assured that my feelings about your competence as firefighters and paramedics hasn't changed a whit."

Roy felt tears spring to his eyes, and blinked furiously, pushing them away. He'd be damned if he'd cry in front of Stanley, but he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. For the first time since Stanley had told them what Miller had said, he started to hope that they might walk out of this office with their lives still somewhat intact. He realized that Cap was still talking.

". . . don't care what you do in your off hours as long as it doesn't affect the job. I just want you both to remember that in this job, your very life depends on your coworkers. I'm sure you know that there are going to be plenty of them who feel like Miller does. They are going to violently disapprove of your uh, situation." Cap grimaced, and Roy almost felt sorry for him. This couldn't be easy for him, either. "I just want you to be discreet, is all. Be CAREFUL, is what I'm saying. This Miller doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who's going to give up on this. He's got a wild hair tickling his ass, and he's not going to just let this go. If he convinces enough of the other guys that he knows what he's talking about, and I think there's a real chance he might, you guys are going to be in for some rough times. I hope you're ready for them."

Stanley stood and John and Roy hastily followed suit. Cap stopped his front of them, looking down sympathetically into their faces.

"Look, guys, you just have to give me some time to mull this over. But you know you can still come to me with any problems you have. I'm still here for you, just the same as I was yesterday, and just like I will be tomorrow. Okay?"

"Thanks, Cap," Johnny said, and he and Roy left, Johnny urging his still somewhat dazed partner out the door.

Cap took his chair again, and rocked slowly back and forth, his chin cupped in one hand. He almost felt like laughing, remembering how everyone at the station and the hospital had been saying their names like they were one word almost from the start. GageandDeSoto. It was a mighty short step from there to the realization of what it meant that these two men who worked together and lived together were more than "just friends". He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. Now that he knew the truth, it seemed ridiculously obvious. He just hoped that it wouldn't seem as obvious to anyone who might not share his fond feelings for Johnny and Roy.

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

Squad 51 had three more runs before bedtime, and Johnny and Roy were extremely grateful for each one. They welcomed the opportunity to leave the confines of the station house, where the atmosphere was pregnant with tension. Chet, Marco and Mike tiptoed around them, obviously privy to what Miller had said to Captain Stanley but loathe to bring it up. To their credit, none of them acted disgusted or repelled by their coworkers, just concerned. Johnny was still disturbed by Mike's reluctance to meet his or Roy's eyes, though. Mike was quiet, sure, but he wasn't timid or bashful. He'd never before been so cool to either man, and it bothered Johnny a lot. He didn't have time to really worry about it, however. He and Roy had tacitly agreed to wait until they got home to discuss the situation, and for the time being all he could think of was what they were going to say to each other when the time came.

They both lay awake that night in their separate bunks, watching as the headlights of the cars passing out on the street played across the ceiling of the dorm. Johnny wanted desperately to go to Roy and hold him, or at least talk, but he knew that circumstances made it impossible. He knew Roy was awake too, and it pained him that they had to suffer this way, so close to each other physically and yet miles apart. He turned over onto his side and buried his face into the pillow. He couldn't say for certain what the fallout would be now that that Mark Miller's accusations were out and sure to soon be the topic of gossip in every station house in the county, but he knew it was nothing he was looking forward to. He worried even more for Roy than for himself. Once Johnny had heard Roy deny being Catholic, but sometimes Johnny doubted him. Even if he wasn't, he certainly had a Catholic's guilt. Johnny was fatalistically certain that Roy would find a way to make himself the scapegoat for this whole calamity.

Finally, without even realizing he was close to falling, he drifted off to slumber troubled by disjointed, anxious dreams. When he woke the next morning, he only remembered the last one. In it, Roy was in dire straits, all alone in a raging sea of fire, without protective gear or breathing apparatus, being slowly and agonizingly consumed by the flames as Johnny watched helplessly. As Johnny pulled on his turnout pants and listened to Cap signal Station 51 on for the shift, he hoped the dream was not, as he feared, a portent of their future together.

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

Morning was as strained as the night before had been. Mike continued to avoid both men, Chet nervously cracked lousy jokes that fell flat, and Marco just looked at them sadly. Johnny sorrowfully wondered if he would ever again share a cup of coffee with these men and not feel as awkward as a whore on the front pew at church. As soon as Dwyer and Bellingham arrived to relieve them for the shift, Johnny and Roy hastily left for home, not even bothering with the usual farewells.

The drive back to their shared apartment was broken only by the occasional banal comment. Now that they could talk freely, neither could seem to find the heart or nerve to begin. As he followed Roy through the front door, Johnny realized as painful as it would undoubtedly be, they had to clear the air. As Roy started for the bedroom John stopped him with a word. Roy froze, swaying in the middle of the room as if unsure whether to keep moving forward or turn back. Finally, with a sigh, he turned.

"We have to talk."

"I know."

Staring across the room at each other, the ten feet between them seemed like an unbridgeable abyss.

"I think I should move out." Roy said finally. Shock like an electric current ran through Johnny.

"WHAT? Are you crazy? What the hell would that prove, Roy? That Miller is right?"

"He is right, Johnny." Very quietly.

John threw up his arms in frustration. "Yeah, but . . that's not the point! It's none of his fucking business what we do!"

"He's made it his business. You can't really be that na�ve," he snapped suddenly, and Johnny flinched at Roy's brusque tone. "What do you think we are playing at here? We got involved, obviously we got careless, and we got found out. You aren't going to make this go away by telling Miller to mind his own business." Roy groaned in frustration and dropped into a chair.

"He's threatened by us, Johnny. And he's not likely to be the only one. Once this becomes common knowledge, and don't you doubt for one damn minute that that's going to happen, and soon, there are guys who are going to give us holy hell over this."

"The world's most macho profession," Johnny said ironically.

"Something like that. All I'm saying is, it can't hurt to pull back a bit, give us some room."

"It would hurt me, Roy." Johnny closed the space between them to stand in front of his partner. "Neither of us has had enough time to really digest all this yet. I mean, I'm not saying I know what we ought to do, but I do think that we should at least wait and see what happens before either of us goes off doing something both of us will regret. Hell, maybe nothing more will come of it."

Roy gave him a peevish look, and Johnny set his jaw stubbornly. "It could happen. Miller has no proof, after all. We haven't told anyone, and we haven't been demonstrative in public. Nobody knows for sure but us. And Cap. And whatever his personal feelings, Cap's not going to rat us out."

"I know that."

"Then what?"

Roy looked up at him, wearing a tormented expression that tore at Johnny's heart. "I have so much to lose, Johnny."

Johnny knelt on the carpet between Roy's feet and took his hands into his own. "You mean the kids?"

"Yeah. If this gets out . . . I mean, I think Joanne suspects, but she's never really made an issue of it because after all, she was having an affair long before anything happened between us. She didn't want to risk my using that against her in the divorce. But if it were to become common knowledge, even commonly believed suspicion, then I'm not sure what she might do."

"You can't believe that, Roy. Joanne knows you love those kids, and that they need their father."

"They have Jim," Roy's voice was filled with derision as he referred to his ex-wife's new husband.

"Maybe, but Jim isn't their real father. You are, they love you, and Joanne knows it. She's too caring a mother to hurt her own children just to get back at you."

Roy pulled free of Johnny's grip and scrubbed at his face with both hands. "Maybe you're right. I don't know. Christ, I'm so tired. I barely slept all night."

"I know how you feel." Johnny pulled one of Roy's hands away from his face and began to examine it as if he'd never seen it before, kissing the palm, running his lips over the wrist and each long elegant finger by turn, soft, butterfly light kisses with no more substance than spun sugar. "Maybe you need a sleeping pill."

Roy growled and tried to pull Johnny to him, but Johnny resisted and instead managed to pull Roy out of his chair, so that they lay on the floor together. They grappled for domination for only a moment, until Roy ceded the lead to Johnny. Johnny kissed him desperately, as if he would devour him.

Roy brought his hands up to grip Johnny's shoulders, pulling him down, pulling him closer, losing himself in the consuming heat radiating from his partner's body. Neither uttered a sound, they wound together in silence, not gentle, urgent and demanding, roughness born of desperation and fear.

Johnny's fingers groped at the front of Roy's shirt, his usually clever fingers clumsy with desire. With a snarl of frustration, he jerked the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room like tiny missiles. They pinged daintily when they hit the polished wooden floor.

Johnny roughly tore the shirt off and tossed it aside. The two men grappled together, impatiently ridding themselves of the rest of their binding clothing. Naked, Johnny straddled Roy's thighs and pinned his arms down, and Roy let him. John leaned forward and laved Roy's chest, smoothing the thick downy hair down with his tongue before latching firmly onto one rosy nub of a nipple, suckling gently.

He ran his hands over the muscular body beneath him, down the taut muscle of chest and abdomen, combing his fingers through the incredibly soft thick hair covering his lover's chest, so foreign compared to his own smooth skin. His fingers followed the line of hair down the center of Roy's stomach to dance through the wiry nest of curls at his groin, darker than the reddish blond fur that covered the rest of Roy's body.

Roy groaned and arched upward, urging Johnny wordlessly to take him into his mouth, to relieve him of his suffering, but Johnny resisted. He wasn't nearly done admiring his partner. Sometimes Roy's physical beauty made Johnny ache. Roy could be self-conscious about his looks, his tendency to pack on a bit of extra weight if he wasn't scrupulously careful, but Johnny never understood his concerns. To him, Roy was exquisite. Period. Now, in the soft morning daylight that streamed into the otherwise unlit room, he seemed to glow from within. His pale skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and the weak illumination picked up the copper tones in his fair hair, making it shimmer.

Johnny lay full length upon Roy, doing his best to cover Roy's large muscular body with his own wiry one. He ran his hands over Roy's back, squeezing his ass cheeks, showering his face with kisses, worshipping him. Moving his lips from Roy's eyelids, marveling at the thick pale lashes that adorned them, to the hard curve of nose to the roughness of unshaven cheek to the unimaginable softness of lips.

Then John was working his way down his lover's body, his sweaty skin sticking to Roy's, writhing against him in a way that pulled a breathless curse from the older man's lips. Finally he lay between Roy's thighs, kissing and nuzzling and caressing with his lips and tongue every area except the one Roy most wanted attending.

At last he lowered his head and gave Roy's cock a teasing lick, making him groan and twist convulsively, almost breaking Johnny's grip, but John held on. He nibbled at Roy's inner thighs, biting gently then quickly soothing the tiny sharp pains with his tongue until Roy could no longer separate the sensations of pleasure and pain.

Then he was sucking Roy's balls into his unimaginably talented mouth, rolling them with his tongue, letting them dribble out to blow on them gently, cool air that made the dusky skin wrinkle, made the glands pull even closer to Roy's body, made the tortured man moan loudly in frustration.

As Johnny nibbled up along the length of his cock and back down again, Roy realized his hands were buried in Johnny's thick hair, urging him closer. Johnny obliged, finally pulling Roy's cock deep into his mouth. Roy thrust upward helplessly, pushing himself down Johnny's throat.

Johnny continued to work the other man's cock with his mouth, noting with satisfaction the exact moment that the muscles in Roy's legs begin to tremble violently, signaling his impending climax. When the signs were unmistakable, he pulled off.

Roy let out a wail that sounded something like a cat being strangled. Before he could protest further, Johnny slid up his body and claimed his mouth with wild ferocity, and Roy froze, tasting the bitter slick of his own pre-ejaculate on Johnny's tongue.

Johnny pulled away and reached past Roy's head to the table next to the chair Roy had been sitting in earlier, jerking the drawer out with such strength that it flew all the way out, its contents raining down upon the two men. Johnny ignored the shower of odds and ends and seized upon his prize with a soft sound of satisfaction, a small tube of the same lubricant they kept in the drug box. Roy had just enough time to wonder dazedly if Johnny had lube stashed away in every conceivable nook and cranny in the small apartment before Johnny was rearranging his legs, pulling them up so that his ankles rested on his shoulders, roughly shoving the cool goo into his opening, followed seconds later by his cock.

Roy's fingers scrabbled at the floor, seeking some kind of purchase, but it wasn't necessary, Johnny had a death grip on his thighs, so he contented himself with alternately running his hands over his own chest and caressing the sleek, sweat slicked skin of Johnny's chest, nails scratching delicately at the pebbled nubs of nipples he found there. Johnny was thrusting into him and he was pushing back hard, taking everything he was being given and demanding more.

He watched John's face, wearing the seriocomic expression of intense concentration he knew so well, sweat beading and rolling down his lean face to drip off his chin. After what felt like a year or two, Johnny froze, buried to the hilt inside his partner's body so deep Roy thought he could feel cock in his throat, and came.

He felt every single twitch of the spasming organ inside him, and it was too much. With a bone deep groan, he shook, feeling himself clench around the still hard column of flesh inside him as he climaxed himself. Reality began to swim away, and he was conscious of nothing but sweat and semen and a hard, heavy body collapsing on top of him, his legs automatically wrapping around Johnny's, arms going around his back, pulling him close, turning his head to one side as Johnny's face dropped forward to burrow into his neck.

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

Three grim faced men sat at one end of the long, rectangular table in the station house kitchen, sipping strong black coffee and having one of the most serious conversations of their lives. It was just after one in the morning, and the other men on their shift were all asleep in the dorm.

"Guys, this is Johnny Gage we're talking about. Chicks love that Gage, am I right?"

"Do they really, Chet?" Marco asked. "I mean, how long have we all known Johnny? About four years, right? In all that time, how many real relationships has he had? Johnny has never been able to keep a girl longer than a few days or weeks at the most. And didn't he always seem more relieved than torn up when they dumped him?"

Chet squirmed. As much as he hated to admit it, Marco had a point. Chet had always thought that Johnny just didn't want to commit to any one woman, something Chet himself could well understand, but based on what they all now suspected, he wasn't nearly so sure anymore. He wondered if maybe Johnny's lousy luck with women had been due simply to Johnny's lack of interest in keeping a relationship with a woman going.

"Okay, then, what about Roy? He was married for what, ten years? What about that?"

"I don't know," Marco admitted. "That's harder to figure out. But Roy's not married any more, is he? Have either of you seen him with a girl since his divorce? Heard him talk about a woman? Mention having been on a date?" Marco leaned forward and cradled his chin on his fists. "Okay, we know they're living together. I admit after Roy moved in with Johnny after his divorce, I thought it was a little odd. I mean, I didn't really at first, since it was right after Johnny got shot and it seemed, I dunno, normal that Roy would want to be there for Johnny while he was recovering. But once Johnny came back to work and Roy didn't move out, didn't any of you think that was a little weird?"

Chet nodded vigorously. "Yeah, and another thing. Whenever Roy and John have the day off, what do they do? They go somewhere together, right? Usually take off to the mountains to go camping or something." He paused, pondering. "They work together, and live together, and spend their days off together . . . man, I know married couples who don't spend that much time together! I just can't believe it took somebody else bringing it to our attention for us to realize it. What a bunch of bozos!"

"Hey, speak for yourself, Chet," Marco protested.

Chet ignored him. "Okay, so then we agree. As hard as it is to believe, Mark Miller is right. John and Roy are, are. . ."

"Gay."

"What?" Chet and Marco chorused, staring at Mike who had just spoken for the first time all evening.

"Gay. That's the word you're looking for. Unless you'd like to say queer, or homosexual. What difference does it make? They're all just labels."

Chet and Marco exchanged a look. "How do you feel about this, Mike? I mean, Miller is your friend. We all heard what he said to Cap that day. He's not going to make things easy on Roy and Johnny," Chet said.

Mike was silent for so long that the other two men were beginning to think he wasn't going to answer. Finally he said, "I don't think it matters how I feel about John and Roy's personal life. What matters is how we all feel about their ability to do their jobs." He moved restlessly in his chair. "We all have to watch each other's backs out there. We have to be able to depend on each other, without hesitation. Right? So do you two believe you can depend on Roy and John to be there, willing to eat smoke for you if it came down to it?"

Now it was Chet and Marco's turn to be silent. Chet was the first to speak. "I've always trusted John and Roy to back me up. I never had a second thought about either of them not living up to the requirements of the job. I think they've both proved over and over that they are as capable as any one of us." He hesitated. "More capable than some guys I know."

"And your opinion hasn't changed."

"No."

"Marco?"

"I feel the same way. I'd trust either John or Roy with my life in a second."

Mike nodded slowly. "Good. That's just the way I feel, too."

"But what about Miller, Mike?" Marco persisted.

Mike frowned. "I don't know. I guess I could try talking to him, but I'm not sure it would do much good. Mark is . . . kinda different. He's an A one fireman, but he's got some peculiar ideas sometimes. When he and I were in training together, he used to get really pissed off if he didn't come out first in every single test and drill. He drove himself harder than any man I've ever known. And he's a bigot." Mike shrugged. "I've always known that about him, but I accepted it. I suppose that was wrong, but the guy is one of the best, you know? I guess I admired him, and that made it easy to overlook his flaws." Mike sighed deeply. "But if I have to choose between supporting John and Roy and my friendship with Mark Miller, Mark's gonna lose. I've seen Johnny and Roy save too many lives that would've been lost otherwise. My loyalty lies with them," he finished simply.

Marco and Chet nodded slowly. As if rehearsed, each man brought his coffee mug up and clinked it gently against the others. They all knew that the matter was resolved, at least for them.

Every light in the station flashed on, and the claxons blared. "Station 29, truck 8, Battalion 14, Station 51, structure fire, 1211 Industrial Drive, one two one one Industrial Drive, time out 01:47."

"Oh, geeze, that's 29's territory. I sure hope it's not another arson." Chet spoke for all of them as the men of 51 ran for their vehicles.

The scene at the warehouse on Industrial Drive was chaos in every sense of the word. Emergency vehicles crowded the building's vast parking lot and spilled over into the adjacent street. The building was fully involved, with heavy black smoke and flames roiling out of the building's many broken windows.

Hank Stanley swung down from the engine and almost literally ran into Chief McConakee.

"Where do you need us, Chief?"

"We have three points of ignition, Hank. Twenty-nine and six are working on them; one is at the east side of the first floor, another at the south end of the first floor, and the third appears to be on the second floor. Can you get your guys up there to help locate that hot spot?"

"You got it, Chief." McConakee nodded and trotted off. Following Hank's orders, Chet and Marco pulled two inch-and-a-halves. After Mike had charged the lines and they had their breathing gear on, they dragged their hoses into the building, staggering a bit under the incredible force of the water shooting through the lines.

John and Roy began setting up their equipment near the squad, preparing to treat any firefighters who might be overcome by smoke or heat, or injured by falling debris. The next few hours passed quickly as the men fought to bring the blaze under control. Johnny and Roy treated minor burns, bumps, smoke inhalation and soot filled eyes, but fortunately nothing truly serious.

Finally the blaze was contained, and the weary men of 51 began the arduous task of packing up their gear to return to the station, to perhaps get a few hours of sleep before they had to face the morning. Roy and John were discussing the most efficient way to repack the decimated drug box when a clear voice rang out in the now eerily still, smoky morning air.

"Hey, Gage, how do you fit four fags on one barstool? Turn it upside down!" Raucous laughter followed the vile gag. Johnny's head snapped up and he was halfway to where the four laughing, jeering firefighters stood before Roy could catch up with him. Roy reached out and snagged the collar of Johnny's turnout coat, just managing to stop him in his tracks. Johnny began to struggle furiously, but Roy held on.

"Johnny, stop! It's not worth it!" Johnny twisted in Roy's grasp. He was livid, and out for blood. "Lemme go, Roy, Goddamn it!"

"Johnny, use your head! You're just playing right into their hands!"

"Hey, look at 'em! They're having a lover's spat!" One of the voices shouted, and there was more laughter.

Roy put both hands on both John's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Johnny, listen to me. This will solve nothing. In fact, it's certain to make things worse. The only recourse we have is to ignore them, not fly off the handle and give them ammunition to use against us." Roy gazed imploringly into Johnny's face. "Johnny, please. Let it go." Finally, with one last, murderous look at the knot of firefighters who were still catcalling and laughing, Johnny allowed Roy to turn him around and they started back towards the squad. Mark Miller watched them go. 'Round one goes to the good guys,' he thought with malicious glee, and smiled to himself.

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

Roy did a lot of thinking over the next few hours. Even after they returned to the station house and everyone else slept, he lay awake, thinking. He listened to Johnny's soft breathing, broken by the occasional snuffle or muttered, unintelligible word, and smiled sadly to himself. Those sounds were like music to him. He fell asleep every night to those sounds, whether John lay in the bunk next to his, or next to him in bed at home. A sudden wave of pain passed through him, and he squeezed his eyes closed. 'Dear Lord,' he thought, 'where am I going to find the strength?"

Three hours later Roy and Johnny finally walked through the front door of their apartment.

"Thank God! Man, am I ever glad to be home." Johnny headed straight for the kitchen and the coffeepot. Roy followed him slowly. "Want some coffee?"

"No, thanks."

Johnny put the pot down and turned to Roy with an lascivious grin. "I get you. Straight to bed, then? We do have some catching up to do. Oh, and we could even get some sleep, too."

Roy smiled in spite of himself. "Johnny, we have to talk."

Johnny groaned. "Jesus, Roy, not again! I thought we got everything settled the last time."

"Johnny, we got nothing settled the last time! You said we shouldn't worry, that maybe Miller's visit to Cap would be the end of it. Well, obviously it wasn't, was it? We are in a serious situation here, Johnny. We have to figure out what to do."

Johnny set his jaw stubbornly, and mentally Roy compared him quite uncharitably to a mule. "I know what we have to do. We have to go on like we always have. I'm not letting some bigoted idiot come between us." Johnny crossed the kitchen to take hold of Roy's hands. "You were right back there, Roy. I almost let my temper get the better of me, but I promise it won't happen again."

"It's not just that, Johnny. It's like I told you before, I just can't afford to have this kind of thing become common knowledge. Joanne. . ."

Johnny dropped Roy's hands and glared at him coldly. "That's what's worrying you? What your fucking ex-wife thinks about you?"

Roy felt himself getting angry. "Yeah, that's what worrying me. My fucking ex-wife, the same fucking ex-wife who has my KIDS. The kids I might never get to see again if she decides to make a big deal out of this!" Roy dropped his voice, pleading. "That's not all we have to consider, Johnny. Can't you stop being pig headed long enough to consider what's going to happen to us if the powers that be in the department get wind of this? There will be an investigation, and I can't lie. I couldn't lie to Cap, I can't lie to anyone. We CAN'T go on like we always have, Johnny. We just can't afford to."

Johnny stared at him, stunned. "What exactly are you saying?"

Roy couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm moving out. As soon as possible. I'm going to check into a hotel and start looking for an apartment. I'm sorry, Johnny. It's the best thing for both of us, for our careers, for my kids."

"Roy, you can't." Johnny felt himself starting to panic. "I love you, Roy. I live for you. You can't leave me!"

Roy choked. "Johnny, please. Don't make this any harder than it already is. You know I love you, and I always will. But we can't keep living together, and we can't keep . . . we can't continue this relationship. We both have too much to lose."

"No, you're the one who keeps talking about what you have to lose! Your kids, your fucking job! What about me? The only thing I care if I lose is you!"

"Johnny, you're not really losing me. We'll still be working together, we'll still see each other. We'll always be close in a way that most people can't hope to experience. And I'm not only worried about what I have to lose in this. When you calm down and think about it, you'll realize I'm doing this for both of us, Johnny. You told me once that your dream of being a fireman in LA County was the only thing that helped you survive your childhood. We both know that the fire department is the most important thing in your life, right? It's your family."

"You're my family, Roy," Johnny said softly, pleadingly, and Roy's heart broke. He reached within himself and drew upon reserves of strength he hadn't known he possessed.

"I'm sorry."

Johnny turned his back so that Roy wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't bother to argue. He knew Roy well enough to know when he could work his charm on Roy and get him to do whatever Johnny wanted, and he knew when Roy had made up his mind and would not be swayed, regardless of what Johnny might do.

"Johnny, I'll see you at work." Roy said softly. Johnny didn't answer. The slamming of the front door sounded to him exactly like the sound of his life falling into a thousand pieces around him.

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

Johnny paused for a moment before pushing open the swinging door to the station locker room. He knew Roy was there, he'd seen his car when he pulled into the station's back yard. Today would be their first shift together since the fiasco with Mark Miller and his cronies at the fire on Industrial Drive, a fire which to no one's surprise had been ruled another arson.

He'd talked to Roy only once in the two days since he'd walked out of their apartment, when Roy called him to give him the name of the hotel he'd checked into. It was near the station, Roy explained, really very nice, with a pool and workout room, he could get a discount by paying by the week until he'd found an apartment. . . Johnny listened in stony silence until Roy ran out of steam, and the uncomfortable silence between them lengthened.

"Roy, come back. Please."

"Johnny, I can't. Please, let's not go over the same ground again. I'm not going to change my mind, and talking about it just hurts us both."

"No, Roy, what's hurting me is not talking, it's having you throw away our relationship over one ignorant, troublemaking bigot. I can't believe that what we had, HAVE, dammit, means so little to you."

Roy sighed. "You know that's not the way it is at all, Johnny. I love you more than anyone in the world, next to my kids. Johnny, please try to understand. Chris and Brandy need me. My dad died when I was six, and I know what it's like to grow up without a father." Roy paused, and when he continued his voice was filled with anger. "And I'll be GODDAMNED if I'll let Jim do my job for me! They're MY kids, I love them, and I'll by God be the only father they have." His voice softened again, became pleading. "Johnny, they're my babies. The only children I'll likely ever have now. . . "

"Because of me, right?"

"What?"

"You said the only kids you'll ever likely have. Because of me, right? Because I corrupted you, turned you queer, right?"

"I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth, Johnny!"

"Why don't you just talk to Joanne, Roy? You may be worrying over nothing. Maybe she'll understand. Give her a chance!"

"I can't do that. You know Joanne's father was a minister, John. A BAPTIST minister. She doesn't exactly hate gays, or anyone, but she's not the most enlightened person when it comes to accepting anyone who's different. She'd never accept this, I know it. I just can't risk it."

"And you really think she'd keep you from seeing your kids if she knew?"

"I don't KNOW, Johnny," Roy's voice was filled with anguish. "Can't you understand that I just can't risk finding out?"

"Fine. I'll see you at the station, Roy. Goodbye."

That was two days ago. Johnny had spent the time between that phone call and this moment in misery, hanging around his apartment, too proud to call Roy, hoping Roy would call him back. He hadn't.

Johnny sighed and pushed the door open. There was no reason to put off the inevitable any longer. Roy sat on the bench in front of his locker, taking off his shoes. He was still in his street clothes, wearing jeans and the faded blue and white plaid shirt that Johnny loved to see him in because it made his blue eyes seem luminous. He glanced up when Johnny came in, and they both froze, eyes locked.

Johnny managed to find his voice first. "Morning, everybody," he said evenly, amazed that his voice sounded so normal.

"Morning, Gage," Chet replied, and turned to look at Marco, who stood next to him buttoning his shirt.

"Morning, John," Marco said, meeting Chet's gaze. Neither of them had seen or talked to Johnny or Roy since the last shift ended and so had not known anything was amiss until that morning when Roy arrived. Even Chet, not anyone's idea of a sensitive or perceptive person, could tell immediately that something was wrong. The happy, life loving sparkle was gone from Roy's eyes.

"Morning, Johnny," Roy said quietly.

"Roy."

Johnny crossed to his locker and began to undress in silence. Chet gestured, Marco nodded, and silently they left the room.

"How have you been?" Roy asked tentatively.

"Fine. You?"

"Oh, fine. The, uh, the hotel is really nice. It has an indoor pool. . ."

"You told me that already," Johnny's voice was sharper than he'd intended.

"I'm sorry."

"Would you stop saying that?" Johnny exploded. "I'm pretty fucking tired of hearing you say you're sorry!"

"I'm. . ." Roy began, then shut his mouth with such force that Johnny heard his teeth click together.

Johnny turned on him fiercely. "Did you find an apartment yet?

"No. No, not yet."

"Then you can still come home."

Roy groaned. "Please, Johnny, don't start. Not here, okay? This is not the place for these kinds of discussions. We have to concentrate on the job."

"Yeah. You're right. Concentrate on the job. I guess I'd better do that, since it's just about all I have left." Johnny slammed his locker door so hard the wood splintered and walked out, leaving Roy gazing sorrowfully after him.

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

Time seemed to slow to a mind killing crawl. Roy and Johnny continued to work their shifts together as always. They had agreed after the scene in the locker room that regardless of what was happening between them personally, it could not be allowed interfere with the job they were both devoted to.

However, beyond what conversation was required of them at work, they communicated little. When they were on shift but not on a call, they studiously avoided each other. Cap had pulled each man aside to talk to him privately, telling him that he was there if they needed to talk. Both thanked him, but neither took him up on the offer. Mike, Marco and Chet watched the goings on with resigned sadness. They all missed the "old" Johnny, full of get rich quick schemes and soapbox ideals, and the "old" Roy, ready with the razor sharp one-liner or carefully considered opinion.

Roy was still living in the hotel. He wasn't trying very hard to find an apartment, even though living in the hotel was really more expensive than he could afford. He just couldn't bring himself to face the finality of finding his own place. Johnny could no longer bear to stay in his apartment without Roy there, and now on nights when he didn't sleep at the station, he made camp and slept in the tent. Both were more miserable than they could ever remember being.

At least there had been no more arson fires, and blessedly, no more contact with Mark Miller. All of Station 51 had walked on eggs for a week after the last arson, expecting at any minute for the Battalion chief to show up asking for explanations of the allegations made by 29s' hero firefighter. When it didn't happen, they all eventually relaxed somewhat, but there was still a pall over the station. Johnny and Roy's melancholia was contagious to those who cared for them.

"Station 29, Station 51, truck 6, fire at the refinery, 8715 Cook Drive, eight seven one five Cook, time out 14:11."

No one bothered to comment that this fire was, like the previous three, in 29s' territory, involving a large commercial structure. They all took for granted they were responding to another arson fire.

Engine 29 was already there when they arrived, and the truck from 6s' pulled up almost concurrently with 51. Hank Stanley took one look at the monster blaze roaring out utterly out of control and knew that they would need help with this one. Lots of help.

"LA, this is Engine 51."

"Go ahead, 51."

"LA, we need another alarm on this incident. Alert 16s we need foam, and contact the Chief, we need him on scene right away."

"10-4, 51."

Hank met 29s' Captain Larch near the entrance of the huge facility.

"Where do you need us, Walt?" Hank asked.

"Can you get your guys on the south side, Hank? We'll need your paramedics in there, too. The plant manager says one of his workers is still inside."

"You got it," Hank turned to see Chet and Marco already dragging hoses towards the building as Mike prepared to charge the lines. Roy and John were unpacking their equipment from the squad.

Hank cupped his hands around his mouth. "John! Roy! Get in there! The foreman says there is a man still inside!"

Johnny waved and he and Roy set off towards the building at a trot. They both paused for a moment just outside to put on their breathing gear, then went inside.

'This is like stepping into hell', Johnny thought. There was fire everywhere he looked. Marco and Chet appeared behind him, spraying the flames that were eating up the walls and everything contained by them before the firefighters' eyes. 'Nobody could still be alive in here,' Johnny thought, but nevertheless, they had to look. Chet and Marco finally made some headway at knocking down the flames, and the two paramedics began to cautiously explore their surroundings.

"Roy, this way!" Roy turned to see Johnny motioning for him to follow. Roy nodded, and they pushed on through the flames, deeper into the bowels of the building.

Johnny saw him first, and for a moment he couldn't quite comprehend what it was he was witnessing. A man, a firefighter in full turnout gear, squatted near a stand of pipes, putting something into a gym bag. Johnny squinted, struggling to make out what was happening through the thick smoke. He went cold when he saw the man place a large, battered alarm clock into the bag. There were still remnants of lead wires dangling from the clock's face. His eyes went to the name etched on the back of the man's turnout coat. 'MILLER!'

Johnny pulled his mask away from his face. "Hey, Miller," he yelled, almost screaming to be heard above the roaring of the flames, and Miller startled violently. He whirled to face John and Roy, and for a moment the three of them just stood there, eyes locked. Johnny flashed on the idea that they presented a tableau reminiscent of the "spaghetti" westerns Roy was so fond of, the ones with Clint Eastwood facing down an enemy out for his blood.

"Miller, what the hell are you doing," Johnny shouted.

"What does it look like, Gage," Miller yelled back. "Don't you believe what your eyes tell you, or are you stupid as well as perverted?" Incredibly, he started to laugh. "Of all the guys it could have been to find me out, it was you two. Well, it doesn't really matter. You're not going to be telling anyone!"

"Pretty big talk, Miller, considering there are two of us and only one of you," Johnny shouted. "Or do you think a couple of gay men can't kick your ass for you? How about we show you how wrong you are?" He advanced on Miller, but even before Roy could put out a hand to stop him, Miller pulled a very large gun out of the pocket of his turnout coat.

"What are you waiting for, Gage," he taunted. "Come kick my ass. We're waiting for you." He waved the gun, and laughed harshly.

Roy felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn't forgotten what had happened the last time a man pointed a gun at Johnny, and he wasn't ever likely to. 'Oh, God, not again,' he thought.

Johnny froze, and Roy moved forward, ready to put his own body between John and the gunman, but Johnny stopped him. They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing down the madman.

Miller's eyes darted from the firefighters standing in front of him to their surroundings. The fire was rapidly consuming the room. They could all feel the intense heat from it, even through their turnout gear. There was no time left for debate, someone had to do something, and soon. Roy was furiously trying to think of way to distract Miller long enough for them to try to rush him. It was a lousy plan doomed to fail, but it was the best he could come up with.

Miller waved the gun at them. "Move!" he shouted. "Against that wall!" Miller began to move, slowly circling Johnny and Roy as they moved towards wall he indicated, their hands raised. Miller's attention was so fixed on Johnny and Roy that he failed to see Marco and Chet appear at the doorway to the room. However, their entrance didn't escape Johnny. John tore his facemask away. "Chet, knock him down!" he shouted.

Reacting to Johnny's command and motivated more by instinct and trust in Johnny than by his own initiative, since he was still having trouble processing the amazing scene he was witnessing, Chet obeyed. He opened up the hose full force and pointed it right at Miller.

The effects were immediate and impressive. The blast of water hit Miller with the power of an explosion, lifting him off his feet, carrying him across the room and slamming him into the wall. The force of the impact of Miller's body and the enormous weight of the water that carried him there were too much for the weakened structure to withstand, and as the men of Station 51 watched, the ceiling and walls surrounding Miller folded in upon him like a house of cards.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Johnny shouted, and he didn't have to repeat himself. With Chet and Marco leading the way with the hose, the four men braved the intense flames and made their way out of the structure in record time.

Outside, Roy pulled his mask off. "Cap, we have a Code I," he shouted. "Mark Miller's still in there!"

Roy felt a touch on his arm, and turned to look down into Chet's wide eyes. "Roy, what the hell just happened in there?" he asked, and Roy could hear the disbelief in his voice. Roy knew Chet was having trouble accepting what he had seen Miller do, and what he himself had done. Roy put an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "It's okay, Chet. You did the right thing." Roy sighed heavily, and gazed sadly at the pandemonium surrounding him. "Lord, it's gonna be a long day."

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

It took six hours to get the blaze contained and find the bodies of Mark Miller and the missing worker. During those six hours, John, Roy, Chet and Marco told first Captain Stanley, then the Battalion Chief, and finally the police what had transpired inside the refinery during those few anxious moments when Miller held Johnny and Roy hostage.

After questioning the four men of Station 51 separately and getting basically the same version of events from all of them, the police finally confided to Captain Stanley and the Chief that while the investigation would likely continue for a time in order to tie up loose ends, it was for all intents and purposes over. They were satisfied that the arsonist who had plagued LA for the past few months was dead, and that Chet had acted appropriately in defense of his colleagues.

Back at the station, six dazed and bewildered men sat around their dining table, struggling to make sense of the senseless events of the day.

"I just can't understand why Miller would do something like that," Chet said finally. He blinked rapidly, anger flashing in his eyes. "I can't believe that all this time it was a fireman setting those fires!"

"It's not really unheard of, Chet," Cap told him gently. "Most of us are here because we want to save lives and protect property, but there will always be the ones who join the fire department because they crave the 'high' that comes from fighting fires. The adrenaline rush is like a drug. I suppose that Miller might have been one of those adrenaline junkies."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Marco chimed in. "Maybe he got addicted to that high, and had to begin setting the fires to get enough of his 'drug'. You know, like how a heroin user has to start taking more and more to get the same high. Maybe the genuine runs 29s was getting weren't enough anymore."

"Maybe," Mike said quietly. "But I knew Mark better than any of you guys. I bet there was more to it than that. Mark was the most competitive guy I ever knew, and the department was his life. I think that's why he was so upset by Johnny and Roy." Mike glanced at his two colleagues briefly before returning his gaze to the tabletop. "He thought they were bad for the department's image, and that was the same as them being a personal threat. He was a good fireman, one of the best I ever knew, but that was ALL he was, you know what I mean? Everything he was, was tied up with being a firefighter." Mike paused, thinking, and no one else spoke, spellbound by their taciturn associate's unusual loquacity. "I wouldn't be surprised if they find out that Mark was doing this because he wanted to build up 29s as the best firefighting team in the county." He sighed, and rubbed his eyes wearily. "That is, if they EVER find out why he did it."

"I think that's enough discussion for one day, guys." Cap looked at his watch. "It's about time we all get cleaned up and get some shut eye. I for one am anxious to start dreaming about how I'm going to spend the next two days off."

The men dispersed, but Roy and Johnny stopped Cap before he could leave. "Cap, what about us?" Roy asked. "I mean, what do you think will happen with mine and Johnny's . . . situation, now that Miller is dead?"

Cap looked down at his two favorite paramedics, feeling a twinge of sympathy at their matching exhausted, concerned expressions.

"Well guys, I can't say for sure of course, but I have a feeling that Miller's troublemaking died with him. I'm willing to bet his fellow bigots at 29s are going to be too concerned about trying to deal with one of their own being a firebug to give you guys much thought." Cap clapped Roy on the shoulder. "This whole Miller thing is going to be enough scandal for the department to deal with, Roy. I don't think that anyone downtown is going to be too anxious to hear any talk that might tarnish the department's image further."

As Johnny began to protest, Cap held his hands up. "I know, Johnny, I know. It's not fair that the brass would think that you and Roy are a detriment to the department. You're preaching to the converted here." Cap smiled at him, then sobered. "But we have to face reality. This is a mucho macho profession we're in. You can't expect to be accepted with open arms, not in this day and age." He looked at them kindly. "At least, not by everyone. I think you know by now how the other guys and I feel about you. I think I'm safe enough speaking for them to say that as far as we are concerned, this is the end of this whole episode. Keep your private life at home, keep doing your job, and you'll never have a problem from any of us. And maybe, someday in the future, things will be different. Maybe you two guys will even be the ones to help change things."

With that he gave each man a brief, fond squeeze to the arm and walked out, leaving Johnny and Roy looking after him thoughtfully.

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

Despite thinking he would never get to sleep after all the excitement and commotion of the day, Johnny was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He wasn't aware of anything until the morning wake up tones went off, and he heard Cap signing the station on for the day.

He and Roy hadn't done much talking the night before, both were too exhausted and shaken for deep discussion. Johnny glanced over at Roy's bunk before he rose, not surprised to see it already empty.

He dressed slowly and made his way to the kitchen. Roy was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and talking quietly with Mike. Johnny walked past them without comment and poured his own cup, leaning against the counter to drink it. Roy left as soon as the first of B shift's paramedics showed up, and Johnny sadly watched him go. As soon as Follett showed up to replace Johnny, he bid his coworkers a good day and left, walking head down through the bay to the station's back yard. He was putting the key into his truck's door when a soft voice behind him made him jump.

"Can I ride home with you, Johnny? I'd like to talk to you, if you'll let me." Johnny turned and found Roy standing behind him, expressions of resignation and hope warring for dominance on his face. Johnny had to force back a grin. As if there were any doubt. "Get in, man. Let's go home."

Johnny followed Roy inside, and watched as a puzzled look appeared on Roy's face as he took in the stale atmosphere of the apartment. At Roy's quizzical look, John just shrugged. "I couldn't bear to be here alone. I've been camping out when I wasn't at the station."

Roy sighed. "Johnny, I'm so sorry. I've been a jerk. You were right. No matter what anybody else says or thinks, we belong together. And I'd like to come home if you'll let me."

Johnny heart began to sing. He fought to keep a foolish grin off his face, and failed miserably. Then he remembered something, an important point he'd forgotten in the excitement over Miller's exposure and death, and he frowned. "What about Joanne, Roy? Miller may be out of the picture, but she's not. What are you going to do about her?"

"Nothing. I'd like to be able to tell you that I'm going to get in my car and drive over there and tell her everything about us, but it ain't gonna happen. I guess I'm a coward, Johnny. As long as she doesn't make an issue of our relationship, I'm not going to bring anything to her attention that I think she doesn't need to know." He looked at his feet. "I guess that disappoints you."

"No, Roy. Not me. If that's the way you think is best to handle the situation, then I'm not going to try to convince you otherwise. Maybe someday you'll change your mind. And you know, there's always the chance Joanne might surprise you. Remember, I knew her as long as I knew you, until the two of you broke up. I think you're underestimating her."

"Maybe. But right now I can't risk finding out. Can you understand that? I just don't want to rock the boat, Johnny. We've been through enough."

"No argument there, friend." Johnny's voice dropped. "C'mere."

Roy moved into his arms, and for a long moment they stood together in the middle of the room, locked in an embrace, both afraid to let go. Johnny pressed his forehead to Roy's, whose skin felt almost feverish. Johnny raised his hands and ran them over that beloved face, caressing the planes and angles of cheekbone and jawline, reveling in the softness of skin. He traced one finger along the line of Roy's bottom lip, and Roy nipped at the fingertip before sucking it into his mouth. He watched Johnny's brown eyes deepen to black.

"Bed," he whispered, and Roy nodded.

They rolled onto the mattress, kissing hungrily, trying to devour each other, all the pain and deprivation of the last few weeks fueling their desire. They pulled at any loose material they could reach, until they lay together naked, limbs entwined. Johnny marveled, not for the first time, at the effect shedding his clothing had on Roy. At times he could be quite inhibited while dressed, but as soon as his clothing was off he became like another man, wild and savage in his passion.

Roy rolled Johnny onto his back and covered him with his body, hands roaming everywhere they could reach, twining their legs together, kissing him with enough force to bruise. Johnny responded eagerly and in kind, caressing every bit of skin he could find. Soon he'd had enough of the teasing, and arched his back, digging his erection into Roy's hip at the same time he ran one hand up Roy's spine from base to apex, searing each vertebra with the heat of his touch.

Roy groaned and forced a hand between their bodies, wrapping it around both shafts, pulling and squeezing. It didn't take much; there had been too much time working so closely together while forced to remain apart, too much time without, too much emotion.

Johnny came first, with three last frantic thrusts into the tight hard grip around him and the hard body behind it, whimpering, burying his face into the soft curve of Roy's shoulder, feeling even before his own orgasm had ended the jerking of Roy's cock against his own shaft, feeling his breath in his ear as he moaned loudly. Then he collapsed on top of Johnny, nuzzling his ear, kissing his neck, making John shiver. "I love you, Johnny Gage," he whispered, and Johnny's arms went up to clutch at him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the tears that burned them, and swallowed hard. Everything was right again, the way it was supposed to be.

The End