A sequel to "PREMONITIONS." Thanks to Emergency!Universe for the use of Challenge # 1

"KNOCKIN' ON HEAVEN'S DOOR"

BY Sparky

The night air was brisk as the motorcyclist expertly negotiated the canyon turns. He was glad he had his thermals on underneath his jeans and chaps. Good investment, he thought to himself, still, it doesn't keep my face from getting frozen. Man, I can't wait to get home and thaw out.

He hadn't passed anyone for ten minutes, and didn't expect to -- not at two in the morning. His headlamp lit the winding turns.

He spied a car in the distance, heading his way. The guy has his brights on,he thought, I hope he remembers to flick them down when he gets to me. Last thing I need is to be blinded going around a turn.

The car's progress was easy to track. Each time it came around a curve, the headlights were brighter and larger.

The were now one turn away from each other.

Oh, man, am I tired, he thought. I really should have taken Roy up on his invitation for dinner. Yeah, but, then, I would've missed the delights of Santa Barbara and Julie.

He smiled, remembering.

The roadside lit up ahead as the headlights from the approaching car raked along the guard rail. It burst around the final turn, fast, right in Johnny's lane. The high beams completely blinded him, and he looked away to try and get his sight back. The driver of the car saw him at the last moment and tried to swerve back into the correct lane, but overcompensated and fishtailed, losing control of the car's rear end. It started sliding perpendicular to the road and then started spinning, as the driver made a futile effort to regain control. He never had a chance. The car plowed into and through the guard rail, and down into the canyon.

Johnny instinctively put the bike down in an effort to slow his momentum, and hung on for the ride. The bike slid towards the railing -- no good, he realized, he was going to go through and follow the car over the edge.

He felt the impact, and then he was airborne, twisting and somersaulting. And, then…, he felt nothing.

* * * * * * * *

"Johnny?"

Roy sat up in bed. His heart was pounding, his pulse racing, his palms sweaty. He looked over at Joanne, still sleeping soundly next to him. It had been four weeks since his accident. Four weeks without a dream. He looked at the clock on the night stand, as he reached for the phone.

2:08 a.m.

Johnny would think he was crazy. Maybe he was.

Maybe not

That voice was back, along with the dream. If it was a dream. He hadn't taken pain meds for weeks.

Roy could barely dial the number, his hand was shaking so badly. Johnny had told him he was going to Santa Barbara, but that he'd be back early. A-shift was on at eight.

Five rings. Six rings. Johnny was a light sleeper. He'd have answered. If he was home. The phone slipped from Roy's hand, banging on the night stand.

Joanne rolled over, startled awake by the sound. "Roy? What's wrong?" In the dark, she couldn't see his face. She didn't need to. A firefighter's wife was no stranger to her husband's nightmares.

"Nothin'," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

She knew by the tremor in his voice it wasn't "nothing." Joanne turned on the light and sat up in bed. Roy was white as the sheets. She'd learned long ago not to overreact, to stay calm and help him through it. "Who were you calling?" she asked softly.

Drawing a breath, Roy put the phone back in place. "Johnny. He… he isn't home."

Joanne slid over and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, putting her arm gently around his waist. Talking usually helped ease the jitters, but sometimes it took some prodding to get him to open up.

"Roy?"

His first few attempts to explain faltered. The moment Johnny had disappeared into the dark still haunted him. In each of his other dreams, Roy had been progressively distanced from Johnny at the time of his death, but Johnny's death had been a certainty. In this one, Roy couldn't see it, couldn't feel it. There was just… nothing. A giant void. The unknown was what had awakened him, what held him even now in its grasp.

"I had another one of those dreams, Joanne. About Johnny. He was in a motorcycle accident. It … it was so real."

Roy had described for her the other dreams, hallucinations really, induced by the Darvocet they'd given him after the car accident. They'd all been vividly real to him at the time, but he'd finally been able to dismiss them for being what they were. Hallucinations.

"I'm sure Johnny's fine," she patiently reassured him. "Maybe he decided to stay in Santa Barbara overnight and go straight to work from there."

"He said he was coming back early."

Joanne gave him a comforting hug. "Maybe it got late and he decided to wait. Or maybe he met someone who changed his mind. Roy, this is Johnny we're talking about. I think you're worrying for nothing. It was just a dream. Like the others."

It hadn't been like the others. Roy couldn't shake the feeling something had happened. Something bad. The vision of Johnny going through the railing wasn't disappearing. "I should have told him. About the dreams. Maybe...."

"… maybe what, Roy? You said it yourself. He would have obsessed for a week and then forgotten all about it. He sure wouldn't have locked himself in his apartment, and not gone out."

"No," Roy admitted slowly, "but maybe he would have been more careful. You know, about things."

"Johnny's always careful. You know that."

"But, he-"

"-but, he can take care of himself. Roy, you can't stay awake all night feeling guilty that you didn't tell Johnny about some bad dreams you had because of a reaction to pain medication."

"What if they were premonitions, Jo? I could have warned him. He might have been prepared."

"I didn't think you believed in premonitions. Besides, how can you prepare for an accident?" Joanne watched Roy's face, hoping he was listening to her voice of reason. He seemed so convinced though, that it frightened her more than she cared to admit. "Is there someone you can call in Santa Barbara to see if he's still there?"

Roy shook his head. "Johnny goes up there a lot to visit friends, but I only know a few first names. I don't know who they are, or where they live."

"Well, then, there doesn't seem to be anything you can do. I'm sure if you call the station at eight, he'll be there. Roy, it was just a dream." Joanne took his hand and encouraged him to get back under the covers with her. "Let's try to get some sleep. But, no more dreams, okay?"

"Yeah. You're right," he finally agreed. "Crazy, isn't it?"

They laid in each other's arms until Joanne drifted off to sleep again. Roy listened for the voice for a long time, but it was quiet. His eyelids finally closed, and he dreamt no more.

* * * * * * * *

Someone tell me this is just a dream.

Johnny slowly opened his eyes. He was aware of three things. It was dark. It was cold. And, he hurt. Bad, and getting worse with each ragged, painful breath he took. Too groggy still to remember why he hurt, Johnny tried to determine where he hurt most. There was no clear cut winner. His head, his back, and his shoulder all vied for top billing. His ribs and one of his knees were making a strong pitch for inclusion. The more he concentrated, the more he became aware there wasn't anything that didn't hurt. It was just a matter of degrees.

The struggle to remove his helmet left him panting as the pain intensified with each movement. Something wet was running down the side of his face. He didn't need to pull a glove off to feel what it was. It actually felt kind of good. His face was cold and the blood was nice and warm. The fact there was a lot of it should have worried him, but the thought didn't occur. Johnny was too busy trying to figure out why it was so dark. And, where he was.

The rustle of a sudden movement nearby drew his attention. "H'llo? Somebody there?" His voice was so weak, he barely recognized it himself.

No one answered. It was deathly quiet.

He was laying on his back. Logically, he was looking upwards. Granted it was dark at two in the morning, and the skies over Los Angeles weren't exactly famous for starlit nights, but Johnny knew he should be able to see something. He raised a hand over his face. Nothing but black.

He heard movement again. Propping up on his elbows required more strength than he could muster, and he fell back to the ground. It was enough to make his head spin and his stomach churn. Deciding it was just the wind making noise, Johnny finally got a grip on the dizziness. Trying to stay calm enough to think things through, he could only conclude he was in deep trouble.

He was laying in the dirt and brush on the side of a canyon off some small back road through the hills. No one knew where he was. He was alone, injured. It was cold, hours yet until sunrise. He couldn't move, but it really didn't matter. He blinked just to make sure. No mistake. He was blind as a bat.

Exhaustion overtook him, and as hard as he fought it, sleep insisted on closing his eyes.

Someone tell me this is just a dream.

* * * * * * * *

While Joanne was getting the kids up to get ready for school, Roy picked up the phone and dialed the station. It was only 7:15, but Johnny was usually one of the first ones in. Suddenly feeling a little foolish for checking on a grown man, Roy waited for someone to answer.

"Los Angeles County Fire Station 51. Captain Hochrader speaking."

"Cap? It's Roy DeSoto. Sorry to bother you, but is… is Johnny there yet?"

"Gage? No, haven't seen him. Stanley just came in. You want to talk to him?"

Roy hesitated. "No, it's okay. It's nothing. Look, Cap…, would you mind asking Johnny to give me a call as soon as he comes in? I'm at home."

"I'll pass the word. You comin' back to work soon?"

He was surprised Hochrader asked. "Yeah, just another two weeks. Maybe sooner. Cap, I need to talk to Johnny when he gets there. It's kind of important."

"I'll tell him. Anything else?"

"No. That's all. Thanks." Roy hung up, knowing he was going have to come up with something important when Johnny called, or he'd really sound stupid.

Joanne stuck her head around the corner. "Everything okay, Roy?"

"Yeah. Johnny's not there yet. But, it's early. I left a message for him to call when he gets in."

"Ask him if he wants to come for dinner tomorrow night. Tell him he can bring a friend if he'd like to. The kids are spending the night at the Hansen's. It might be fun to have a little dinner party with just adults for a change."

She'd given him his reason for the call. Not that a dinner invitation was "important" but it would serve the purpose. He headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and breakfast with Chris and Jenny, satisfied everything was fine.

No it's not

The voice tore through his mind, and he saw Johnny going over the edge again. He closed his eyes and tried to see more. There was nothing but darkness. And silence.

Roy sat at the table, listening to the kids chatter, watching Joanne make their lunches. He didn't believe in premonitions, or psychic connections, or any of that garbage. There had to be an explanation. This time, he couldn't blame it on narcotics. Maybe his conscience was trying to tell him he should have told Johnny about the other dreams. Why, he wasn't sure. Like Joanne had said, Johnny wouldn't have locked himself in his apartment.

He kept coming back to the fact Johnny had died in each of them… except this one. It had been different. Like the ending was blank, waiting to be written. Roy didn't know if that was good or bad, but he hoped the phone would ring and put him out of his misery.

Joanne gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She looked at him, a little worried at what she saw. "Roy," she said quietly, so the kids wouldn't hear, "he's okay."

"I know," he lied. "I just want to be sure."

"Well, I have to take the kids to school and stop by the store on the way home. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"They have anything for a bored paramedic with nothing better to do than worry about his partner?" Roy tried to laugh, but until the phone rang, he didn't think he could find his sense of humor.

"Bored, huh? Well, anytime you're ready Mr. DeSoto, I have this list...." When he grimaced, Joanne playfully smacked his uninjured shoulder. "And, a few other things I can think of to take your mind off that."

"Yeah?" Roy leaned back in his chair, definitely distracted from his vigil. "I don't know about the list, but I'd like to hear about those other "things" you mentioned."

Joanne kissed him again, and rounded up the kids and headed out the door. Looking back over her shoulder at Roy, she felt a chill prickle the back of her neck.

For heaven's sake, Johnny. Call.

* * * * * * * *

The sun was coming up. He couldn't see it, but he could sense the change in temperature. Stiff from the cold, stiff from laying in one spot, stiff from his injuries, Johnny tried to move some part of his body. Any part. Nothing worked. More unnerving than being unable to see, was being unable to feel anything but numb. Remembering the man in the car, he tried to call out, but his throat was dry and his tongue seemed like it was swollen twice its normal size. Just the effort made him cough and gag on the bitter, metallic taste of dried blood in his mouth.

He had no idea how far apart they may have ended up, but Johnny knew if he was this bad, there wasn't much hope the person in the car had made it. The sounds he'd heard last night must have just been the wind.

Thinking was hard work. It made the pressure in his head worse. Johnny wondered how long it would be before they would start looking for him. Help was only a few miles away, but they wouldn't even know where to begin. He hadn't told anyone which road he was taking. He hadn't known himself until he had turned off the freeway on a whim.

It was too soon to give up hope, but he wasn't able to stop the what-ifs from flooding his thoughts. What if he was paralyzed. What if he was permanently blind. What if he could never work again. What if he could never feel the way he felt when he had made love to Julie last night.

What if he died.

Death was something that lurked in the shadows of every firefighter's mind, but it had never felt so real. Until now. Feeling its presence at his back didn't compare with feeling its breath on his face. He could almost hear it, panting in eagerness.

Johnny shivered. From cold. From fear. Not so much from fear of dying, as the fear that strikes a man when given too much time to contemplate his mortality. A fear of finality, of the unknown. He'd been raised under the influence of two cultures, both of which believed in an afterlife, but each taking a different route to get there. His beliefs had always been deeply personal, held close. If this was a test of those beliefs, he wanted to play hooky.

His eyelids grew heavy again. The sound was back, closer. Johnny couldn't feel the wind this time. Something… someone was there, watching him. Waiting for him.

Not yet. I'm not ready.

* * * * * * * *

Roy cleaned up the kitchen. He did the dishes. He took out the trash. At 8:15, he picked up the phone and dialed the station again. It rang ten times and no one answered. He hung up, trying to slow his heartbeat. The station must have gotten toned out right around the time of the shift change. A-shift took the run, and C-shift had left.

If he didn't live so far away, he would have gotten in his car and driven there, just to see Johnny's bike or Rover in the parking lot. Roy tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous, but the feeling that something was wrong grew stronger with every passing minute. The only way to resolve it was to drive the forty-five minutes to Carson, or to wait and call the station again a little later.

After a heated debate with himself, Roy decided to wait. He went out to the garage and aimlessly puttered around. It had been a long time since he'd done any pottery work, and he thought maybe that would be something he could do over the next few weeks until he was cleared to return to work. Busying himself cleaning some of his tools, he lost track of time.

Joanne pulled the car in the driveway. He looked at the clock. It was almost ten. Roy wiped his hands on a rag, and went inside, heading straight for the kitchen phone.

"County Fire Station 51. Captain Stanley speaking."

They were back. Johnny hadn't called. At Rampart still? Maybe Hochrader had forgotten to give him the message, or hadn't seen Johnny before they had been toned out. Roy's pulse was racing a little faster than he would have liked.

"Cap. Roy. Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, can I… uh, can I talk to Johnny?"

Joanne walked into the kitchen. Her heart stopped when she saw the look on Roy's face.

"He hasn't called in?"

"No. I just got off the phone with headquarters. They haven't heard from him. Roy? Is there something wrong?"

"I don't know, Cap. Johnny went to Santa Barbara for a few days, but he said he was coming back last night. I tried calling his place kinda late, but there was no answer." Roy looked beseechingly at Joanne, not knowing what to do. "Cap, can I call you right back?"

"Roy, if something's wrong...."

"I know. I'll get right back to you." Roy slowly hung up the phone. Eight hours since he'd had the dream. Eight hours he'd wasted. Eight hours of who knows what Johnny was going through.

"Roy, you're scaring me." Joanne put her hand on his arm. "But, I don't know if I'm scared for you or for Johnny. We don't know that anything has happened. He could still be in Santa Barbara."

"No, Joanne," Roy said insistently. "Johnny would have called in. If something had happened in Santa Barbara, one of his friends would have called. I don't know how or why, but I saw the accident. He went over the side of the road, somewhere between here and there."

Joanne no longer doubted Roy's belief in what he had seen. That was different from believing that Johnny had been in an accident, but she wasn't going to argue the point.

"What are you going to do, Roy? What can you do? Doesn't someone have to be missing for two days before the police will look? There's so many questions you can't answer. They're bound to think you're… you're...."

"Crazy? Go ahead and say it, Joanne. It's crazy. I know that. But, if I'm right, we can't wait two days. We may have waited too long already."

"How do you know where to start looking? Roy, I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm as worried as you are, but…, I don't see how you're going to find him. There's a hundred miles between here and Santa Barbara."

"Don't ask how I know, but he's in the hills somewhere off the freeway. Maybe Cap can get the department to send a helicopter from one of the camp crews. Maybe they could spot something from the air. The broken rail, his bike, the other car."

"The other car? Roy, you are scaring me."

"I know. I'm scaring myself."

"How are you going to explain this to Captain Stanley? I mean, I believe you, Roy. But, I'm your wife, and I know you're not making it up. The department might not be so willing to listen."

"I'll just tell him that Johnny called last night from Camarillo, and said he was on his way here for dinner, and never showed up."

"That's a lie, Roy. What if he turns up in the meantime? Or, what if he's north of Camarillo still?"

"Well, if he shows up at work, I guess my butt's in a sling. There aren't many hills off the freeway between Santa Barbara and Camarillo. He wouldn't get off the freeway except to take a road that would cut down to the coast highway, so he's got to be south of there. That puts him in the County. It's still a big area, but there aren't that many roads he could have taken. If I'm right, it'll be worth the risk. Joanne…, I-I can't sit by and do nothing."

Joanne felt like she'd asked enough questions, and it was time to get behind Roy and help. "What do you want me to do?"

He picked up the phone again to call Hank Stanley. "You're right. There isn't much we can do, except hope Cap can be persuasive and call in some favors."

"Are you going to tell him the truth, Roy? I think you owe him that."

"Yeah," Roy agreed. "You're right. I'll do that. After they find Johnny. That way, if I'm wrong, Cap's in the clear."

Joanne knew Roy wouldn't hesitate to put his life on the line for Johnny. But, pulling Hank Stanley into it without telling him the truth, and putting his job on the line over a dream was a huge leap of faith, one she would never have expected him to take. Worried as she was about Johnny, she hoped Roy wasn't making a costly mistake.

The problem with hoping Roy was right, was that it meant Johnny was in trouble. Joanne didn't know whether to cross her fingers, say a prayer, or make some more coffee.

By the time Roy finished talking with Captain Stanley, she'd done all three.

* * * * * * * *

The sun was hot. His thermals and chaps had given him some protection from the cold during the night, but now he was sweating. At least it felt like it, although he knew his desperate craving for water meant he was severely dehydrated. There was no way to determine how much bleeding there had been. Further loss of body fluids could be devastating. Deadly. Disorientation was setting in. Johnny had no concept of time, no idea how long he'd been laying there.

Flies buzzed around his head, drawn like vultures to the caked blood on the side of his face. Johnny was able to pull one arm over his eyes, keeping both the insects and the sun from driving him insane. As each minute crawled by, his tenuous grip on sanity slipped away, bit by bit. He felt like he was burning up. All he wanted was a drink of cool water and some shade from the sweltering heat of the sun.

Johnny fought to stay awake, though, afraid if he closed his eyes, he'd never open them again. Even if all he ever saw was black, being alive was more important. The same went for living life confined to a wheelchair. Somewhere along the line, in the long, lonely hours, all those what-ifs had paled in comparison to the big what-if. If forced to choose, he'd choose life, because not knowing what lay beyond death was a hell of lot more frightening than anything living could throw his way.

Knowing he might not be given a choice meant he would have to examine his beliefs. For him, there had never been a middle ground between the complicated covenants of the Church and the simplicity of the old ways. Maybe if he'd grown up with one or the other in his life, rather than both, it wouldn't be such a struggle now to accept that one could choose one's own destiny, even in death.

Time wore on. The sun beat down hotter. Johnny was positive he was being watched by more than one set of eyes. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't help. It was as though they were waiting for him to make up his mind about something. In his delirium, he was already forgetting what that was.

He was tired. So tired.

Maybe at the end of sleep, he'd find his answers.

* * * * * * * *

Each time the phone had rung in the last three hours, Roy had held his breath, hoping for the news that they'd found Johnny, alive. Each time, it had been Captain Stanley, calling with an update. Another area searched, nothing spotted.

This time, Joanne answered. Roy kept his eyes on her and by her reaction, knew this was it. She asked no questions of the caller, just held the phone out to him.

"Roy. They found him. The chopper's on its way to Rampart."

Roy managed a strained smile for Joanne, letting her know that Johnny had been found, and that he was alive.

"Cap?"

The smile vanished when there was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"How soon can you get there?"

Funny how men can say so much to each other in so few words sometimes.

Roy almost hung up the phone before he answered. "I'm on my way."

Joanne had already arranged for their next door neighbor to pick up the kids from school. She waited until they were in the car and on their way before asking questions again.

"How badly is he hurt?"

"Cap didn't say. Bad, though."

"How do you know?"

"Because Cap didn't say."

"But, if he didn't say...."

"Then it means it's bad."

This was one of those times Joanne was sure men and women were worlds apart. They drove in nervous silence, Roy obviously trying not to exceed the speed limit on the freeway any more than was safe. When they finally exited onto the street and headed for Rampart, Joanne looked at him, amazed to think the dream had been more than a dream.

"You were right, Roy," she said quietly. "I didn't want to believe it, but you were right."

Waiting at the last red light before the hospital's driveway, Roy had to admit he almost hadn't believed it himself.

"Yeah. But you know, I would have given anything to be wrong. Anything."

They waited an hour before Dr. Brackett came out to talk to them. His report was grim. Johnny's prognosis was guarded, uncertain. Only time would tell if he would see again, walk again, laugh again.

Roy was allowed to see him for a minute. He stood there, looking at his friend's battered body, wondering what it had been like for Johnny, what he'd thought about, if he'd been as scared of the unknown as Roy had been.

Maybe it was something they could talk about one day, in those few words that said so much.

* * * * * * * *

Even though the hours and the days had dragged unmercifully, by all accounts, Johnny's recovery had been quick. Brackett credited his determination to beat the odds for much of that. In those first days, when so much was uncertain, it had been Johnny's strength of spirit that had given the rest of them hope, when hope was hard to come by. From the first moment he could distinguish light from dark, to the moment he got out of the wheelchair and walked to the car, Johnny had never given up.

Weeks of rest were followed by weeks of rehab, and he was finally ready to return to work. He had asked Roy to come with him today, because he didn't want to face it alone. Johnny pulled the Rover as far off the road as the shallow turnout would allow. They both got out and walked the twenty yards to the spot. The rail hadn't been repaired yet.

"You sure you want to do this, Johnny?"

"Yeah. I have to."

He had this inexplicable need to return to the scene. Not unlike attending a funeral. Tough, but necessary. Johnny was seeking closure. There was more to it than putting the accident behind him. Something else called to him. An unanswered question, the meaning for it all unclear.

They slowly made their way down the hill until they reached what was left of his bike. "I guess there's no point thinking about selling it any more, is there?" he asked quietly.

"No. Doesn't look like it."

Johnny crouched down and picked up the broken headlight, turning it over in his hands. He looked back up the hill, deep in thought.

Roy felt uneasy, not sure why they were there. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I was just thinkin' how close I came. At the door. If you know what I mean."

"Brackett said you were lucky."

Johnny looked at the remains of his bike. It could have easily been his remains, broken and scattered on the hillside, hidden by the brush. Could have been, but for Roy.

"Was I, Roy? Was it luck?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you wondered why you had the dreams?"

Wondered? It had driven him crazy. There hadn't been another, and the voice was long gone.

"A time or two, I suppose."

Johnny stood up and walked around the other pieces of the motorcycle. "You know, Roy, when I was layin' here all that time, I could've sworn someone was watching me. Waiting."

"Coyotes."

"Coyotes?"

"The guys said there were tracks all around. Right next to where you were."

"Oh." He paused, a puzzled expression settling in his eyes. "Coyotes, huh?"

"What'd you think they were?"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't matter."

"They thought maybe there were three or four of them."

"Three," Johnny said, without hesitation.

It was Roy's turn to be puzzled. "I thought you couldn't see."

He waited for an explanation that never came. Wondering exactly which piece he was looking for, Roy watched Johnny carefully poke around the twisted metal.

"Something bothering you, Johnny?"

He hesitated. It was deeply personal. Intensely private. Not something easily confided, even to a friend as close as Roy. But, this was why he had come back to this place. To confront his doubts, his fears.

"You ever think about dying, Roy? I mean about what happens after? What's waitin' for you?"

"Some, I guess. It's only natural."

"Have you figured it out yet?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

Johnny stood silent for a long time, looking at the sky. It was a clear, cloudless day. A gentle breeze ruffled through his hair. The sun was warm on his face. It felt good to be alive.

"Yeah, I think I have."

Roy glanced at Johnny. He seemed at peace, like he'd found what he'd been searching for.

"You gonna share it with me?"

Johnny smiled and gestured up the hill. It was time to leave.

"Some day, Roy. Not today, but someday. 'Cept, I think maybe... maybe, you have to find your own answer. Knock on a door. See who opens it."

As they climbed their way back to the road, they heard the cry of a coyote echo in the distance, answered by another on the opposite side of the canyon. Somewhere in the middle, a third joined in.

Their song of life met and mingled, then slowly faded away.

* * * * * * * *