"Now, For My Next Trick...."

BY Emergency! Universe

Author's Notes: This takes place sometime before "Limelight" which aired 04/23/1977

The day had begun in the early am with the onslaught of a rare, icy, Alaskan storm blowing in with vicious speed. The snow level had dropped to 4,500 feet, which heralded a promise that Mt. Wilson and the rest of the San Gabriel's would have a blanket of the white stuff to take the sharp edge off the mountain tops.

The Los Angeles downtown temperature at 7:00am was a brisk 41 degrees and there was an eighty percent chance of rain. Typically, it was more like one hundred percent since it had not stopped raining, but the forecasters always hedged their bets. This was weather that made Angelenos reluctant to get out of bed.

What it meant for the A shift at Station 51 was a miserably cold morning at 7:15 when the first of the men arrived. Each man made a dash through the back door from a comfortably warm car interior to freezing ass to a, "well, it's warmer than the outside," interior of Station 51.

"Oh, man," shivered Johnny, despite wearing his sweater and bomber jacket and rain slicker, as he slid into the locker room. Well, it was marginally warmer in here. Thankfully, someone had turned the wall heater on. "Mornin'!"

"Morning," cheerfully responded Roy.

"Boy, I tell ya, Roy, there's parts of my anatomy that may never thaw out. My dang heater quit!" said Johnny with another shiver.

"I'm sure the women in LA are sighing with relief," quipped Chet, coming up behind him, his smirk peeking out from under his mustache.

"Why, Chet, is that an icicle I see hangin' off your mustache?" said Johnny playfully.

Chet couldn't help himself -- at the mere mention of an icicle his goosebumps suddenly got goosebumps. He hated the cold. He hated cold rain even more. Just another in a long list of reasons why he was glad he didn't live in New York anymore.

Johnny, his best mischievous grin on his face, reached up towards Chet's face and said, "here, let me get that for you."

Chet swatted away Johnny's hand with annoyance. Johnny giggled as he stepped back away from Chet and pivoted towards his locker. He stopped dead, his hand slapping and then bracing himself against the end of the locker row in an effort to stay standing.

"Oh, man!" said Johnny grimacing in pain.

"You all right?" asked Roy, immediately at his side, hand gripping his elbow in support.

"Yeah. Yeah," said Johnny, waving off Roy. The sharp pain passed, leaving that familiar dull ache. "Man, I need to get warmed up! Think I've got time for a hot shower?" He looked down at his watch.

"If you hurry," said Roy, his concern still evident on his face. He walked over to the shower and turned it on for Johnny. "There ya go."

"Good deal. Good deal. Thanks," he said gratefully as he quickly stripped down to his boxer shorts. He grabbed a towel out of his locker, dropped his boxers, quickly wrapped a towel around his narrow waist and moved swiftly but gingerly to the shower.

Once Johnny was in the shower, Chet went over to Roy.

"What was that all about?" asked Chet in all seriousness. He was concerned about Johnny but he couldn't let Johnny know that. He had appearances to keep up.

"Well, you know, he's had two bad breaks in both his legs," began Roy. Chet nodded. "They kinda start acting up when it's freezing and damp like today," continued Roy as he finished dressing. "A hot shower seems to help."

"That's not a half-bad idea," said Chet, unconsciously rotating his right shoulder. "Ever since I broke this darn shoulder, it gives me better weather reports than the news."

"If you need an analgesic, let me know" offered Roy. "Could get a little rough if you've got to jockey around any hose today."

"Yeah, I will," promised Chet.

Roy left the locker room in search of some hot coffee wishing his light jacket wasn't so light as he crossed the very cold, empty apparatus bay. Station 51 had been called out to an early morning warehouse fire. When he entered the recroom, he was delighted to find two full pots on the stove and was amused to see Mike hovering near it, practically inhaling his cup.

"Mornin'," greeted Roy.

Mike nodded.

"Pretty cold this mornin'," said Roy as he pulled down a cup from the cupboard and picked up a pot.

Mike nodded, again, from behind his cup, draining it. He reached for the other pot and refilled his cup quickly.

"You said it," replied Mike finally. He took a little more time with his second cup. "I thought making two pots was a good idea."

Roy savored the warmth of the liquid coursing down his throat. He didn't quite close his eyes in ecstasy, but he came close.

"Mmm," was Roy's only response.

"Hey, guys," greeted Marco as he entered. "Oh, good. Hot coffee!"

"I think I'll make another pot," offered Roy. "At this rate of consumption, there isn't going to be any!"

A chuckle escaped from behind various mugs.

"Line-up in fifteen minutes, gentlemen," said Stanley as he entered the room, his empty cup in hand. He quickly refilled it and left just as quickly. Roy could have sworn he heard Stanley say something under his breath that was not complimentary to the weather. He smiled to himself.

"All right, everyone stand back and let me at the coffee," exclaimed Chet as he blew into the room.

"I wish I had the coffee concession for today at this station," Roy said to no one in particular. "I'd make a killing."

"You said it," agreed Mike, once again from behind his cup. Yes, a man of few words thought Roy.

"Did we get the paper?" asked Chet looking around.

"Yeah, but it's soaked," supplied Mike. "I've got it in the oven."

Chet had to look. He opened up the oven and sure enough there was a sodden mess of paper pulp.

"Yuck!" said Chet. "You'd think the paperboy would actually read the paper and know when it's supposed to rain. Maybe one of these days, we'll get a dry paper!"

"Fat chance," replied Mike.

"Well," said Roy setting his coffee cup down reluctantly, "about time for line-up."

The men were standing attentively when Stanley came out of his office holding his clipboard. He looked up and did a quick head count.

"Where's Gage?" asked Stanley.

"Uh, Johnny's in the shower trying to warm up, Cap," supplied Roy. "The cold's bothering him."

"Yeah, that's understandable," nodded Stanley. "Took me several tries to get out of bed this mornin' m'self."

"I'm here," said Johnny as he pushed open the locker room door, his step a lot lighter. "Sorry, I'm late." He slipped into his usual place.

"No problem, John."

"Thanks, Cap"

"You know what? Since I'm not in the mood to freeze my butt off…. Let's take this into the recroom. Go ahead and stow your caps."

"Well, I was warmer until I walked out here," said Johnny to Roy sotto voce as he passed him. The men all entered back into the recroom.

"Grab chairs and gather 'round," said Stanley thinking everyone might as well be comfortable.

Instead of taking a seat with the others, Johnny went and stood in front of the heater, hands stuffed into his pockets.

After handing out the chore assignments, Stanley got down to the serious business.

"As I'm sure you've noticed with this latest rain, we've got a ground saturation situation. So, there's a good possibility of mudslides today -- especially over at Hillhurst Estates with that brushfire from a couple of months ago. Fortunately, the weather might be on our side. The storm is actually supposed to blow out of here in a couple of hours and it's probably going to end up being a sunny day!"

"Amen to that!" said Chet.

"Yeah, except it's not supposed to top 62 degrees today," said Stanley, looking directly at Chet.

Johnny shuddered. The rest of the crew moaned. The last thing you want on a cold day was get doused by a firehose.

Just then, the bay door could be heard cycling open. A blast of cold rain and wind preceded the squad as it backed in followed by the engine. A few epithets erupted from the men, but Stanley closed the door behind him as he reluctantly headed out to the bay to meet up with C shift's captain. Unfortunately, the occasional gusts caused the door to flap back and forth, letting more cold air into the recroom. Finally, they heard the bay door slide shut.

"Stop hoggin' the heat, Gage," said Chet as he moved to take a spot at the table in front of the heater.

"Sorry," said Johnny. He reluctantly sidestepped the wall heater, then decided to get another cup of coffee. He just managed to fill his cup when C shift tiredly entered. They eagerly pushed aside Johnny to get at the stove. Johnny took it with good graces and went to join Roy.

Once Dwyer had secured a cup of Joe, he walked over to his fellow paramedics.

"Hi, you two. Squad's all yours," said Dwyer. He drained half his cup before continuing, "I'd suggest you clean it out though. Pretty muddy out there."

"Just great," said Johnny unhappily.

Dwyer shrugged and said, "couldn't help it. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," conceded Johnny.

"I'll go check it out," said Roy simply. "Hang tight."

Johnny nodded at Roy then turned his attention back to Dwyer and asked, "So, what was the shift like?"

"The usual for wet weather. Been goin' all night…. Couple of accidents," said Dwyer. "Fortunately, nothin' was too serious. Then, we get this warehouse fire! Nothing like putting a fire out in the pouring rain…. At least it cut down the time for containment. No one injured. Not even a hangnail."

"Good to hear. Good to hear," intoned Johnny.

Dwyer drained the rest of his cup and said, "Well, time to get out of these wet cloths before I catch my death and get on home. See ya later."

Roy came back in carrying the drug box and the biophone -- both were mud splattered.

"Johnny, could you get something for the table so I can set these down?" asked Roy.

"Sure, just a sec," said Johnny.

Stanley peeked his head into the recroom and pinned his engine crew with a look.

"All right, you guys. The engine's not going to clean itself! On the double!"

A shift's engine crew scrambled out to the bay followed more slowly by the C shift crew leaving Roy and Johnny some peace and quiet. Johnny cleaned the outside of the biophone and then opened it up for the radio and telemetry check. The inside was splattered also, much to his disgust, so he wiped it down first then called Rampart. After Dixie acknowledged, Johnny signed off, closing the case.

"We're almost out of MICU forms," said Johnny. He picked up his coffee cup.

"We're going to need to get some supplies, too. They didn't leave us with much," said Roy.

Johnny moved around the table and sat down in front of the heater. Roy didn't miss the fact that the movement caused obvious pain.

"Why don't you ask for some Naprosin from Early or Brackett while we're at Rampart?" suggested Roy.

"Hm," replied Johnny absently. He was trying to crawl inside his coffee cup. Physics was against him.

"Johnny," said Roy, trying to get his attention. "Johnny."

Johnny looked up.

"I'm done here. Let's get to the squad."

Johnny pushed himself slowly up from the table and reluctantly followed Roy out. He took in the sight of the dirty squad with trepidation and stepped up to the driver's side to peek into the cab.

"Dwyer wasn't kiddin'," said Johnny.

"You think that's bad! I'll trade you," said Chet with feeling from the very dirty side of the engine that he was scrubbing down.

Johnny looked up to the Ward LaFrance and was amazed at the sight. The engine was covered from bumper to bumper in mud!

"Man! I've never seen the engine…," began Johnny.

Roy came up behind Johnny and tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He handed over half of his shop towels and gently pushed Johnny out of the way of the driver's door to the other side of the squad.

"Get to it, Junior."

"Yeah. Yeah."

The two made quick work cleaning the cab interior.

"We can't take any more time on the squad. We really need to get supplies," said Roy giving one last swipe to the steering wheel.

"Yeah, we'll just let the rain clean the rest," grinned Johnny.

"Cap," called out Roy, "we're headin' to Rampart for supplies."

Stanley leaned out from behind the engine and replied, "right!" The engine crew started to gravitate to the back of the bay behind the engine to avoid getting drenched when the door opened. Stanley jumped up into the engine's cab and put a hand on the remote, ready to open the bay door.

After grabbing and putting on their turnout coats, the two paramedics climbed into the squad, doors slamming. As Roy started the engine and began to pull out of the bay, Johnny put the heater on high and rolled up his window, stretching his long legs towards the vent. He then picked up the mike and called in 10-8 to Rampart. Dispatch acknowledged.

Roy backed into their usual spot at the emergency entrance. As soon as the squad came to a stop, Johnny was out and running towards the entrance before Roy had a chance to turn off the engine. Roy made his own short dash through the rain, joining Johnny inside. They both shook off the water on their turnouts and helmets at the entrance.

The first thing Johnny did when they arrived at the nurse's station was to grab yet another cup of coffee and wrap his hands around it, trying to soak up the warmth.

"Hiya, Dix," greeted Johnny. "I swear, Roy, I just can't seem to get warm today!"

"Do you see me walking around in a bathing suit?" asked Dixie. Johnny, taken off guard when she said that, almost choked. "You're not the only one who's cold," said Dixie as she pulled her hands into her sweater.

Roy just smiled bemusedly and said, "We've come to get supplies."

"Uh, huh. You know where they are," she smiled at Roy.

He nodded and started pulling out what they needed. The silence stretched out.

"You're awfully quiet today, John," said Dixie.

Johnny didn't answer, just concentrated on his coffee.

"Johnny?" asked Dixie.

"Is Dr. Brackett or Early around?" interjected Roy.

"Let's see. I think Dr. Early is in three. What do you need?" asked Dixie.

"Junior here needs some Naprosin," replied Roy.

Johnny just grimaced at Roy in irritation. He hated to take medication and he hated to be examined but he hated limping even more. The pain was definitely tipping the scales to give in to the inevitable because it sure wasn't going to go away on its own. Not today. He decided to remain silent instead of protesting the mothering because, dog gone it, his partner was right. Roy finished the restock and handed Dixie the paperwork.

"Come on," he said to Johnny. "Later, Dix."

"Bye, guys."

Johnny just sighed and followed Roy in search of Dr. Early. From his demeanor, you would have thought that he was on his way to a fate worse than death. Early was indeed in three as Dixie had said, going through a chart. He looked up over his reading glasses as they entered. Again, Roy took the initiative and explained what they needed. Early nodded and went over to the medical cabinet.

"Here," said Early, pulling out a sample bottle. He put on his reading glasses again to make certain he had the right one. He turned to Johnny, handing it to him. "850 mg. Take twice a day with food. No aspirin while you're taking this … only acetaminophen."

"Right, Doc," said Johnny.

"If you need more, just let me know and I'll fill out a prescription for you," said Early.

"Thanks, Doc. 'Preciate it," said Johnny.

"Sure, Johnny. No charge," he said as he exited the treatment room. The paramedics followed him out and headed down the hall to the staff lounge.

For once, there were still donuts to be had. Johnny grabbed two of them and immediately stuffed one in his mouth. He poured himself a cup of coffee while miming at Roy if he wanted him to fill a cup. Roy shook his head.

"If I drink anymore of that, I'm going to wash away with the rain!" said Roy.

Johnny stuffed the second donut in his mouth, put down his cup and opened the bottle, shaking out one huge pill.

"I hate it when these things are so big. They're hard to get down." He smacked the pill into his mouth and immediately gulped down some coffee as a chaser. "And, they taste terrible, too!" he choked out.

Roy just smiled at his partner. Johnny reminded him of his kids when they were forced to take meds. He didn't have to chase them down, exactly, but sometimes....

"Lord, this is ridiculous, Roy," exclaimed Johnny as he joined his partner at the table. "I'm too young to be at the mercy of the weather! They're gonna have ta wheel me to the fires and victims! At this rate, I'm not gonna even make retirement!"

Roy understood his frustration but really couldn't think of anything that would be helpful. He decided to let Johnny rant on; hoping that vocalizing his frustration would help. It always did in the past, even though at times the rants would exasperate even Roy's patience. Those were the days that he would just… walk away.

The three distinctive beeps sounded over the handy talky, cutting through Johnny's diatribe.

SQUAD 51, STAND-BY FOR RESPONSE.

In a heartbeat, they both headed for the exit. Johnny pulled out a notepad, ready to write down the street address.

SQUAD 51, MEET ENGINE 110 AT THE STATION DOCK. HEART ATTACK ONE MILE SOUTH OF THE BREAKWATER. TIMEOUT 09:40.

"Squad 51, 10-4," said Johnny into the handy talky as the emergency doors swung out. They both climbed into the squad and Roy had them rapidly on their way.

"I just can't win," groaned Johnny.

Roy peered up at the sky at the dissipating clouds. "At least it stop raining," he said. "You better take some Dramamine. It's going to be real choppy out there."

"That's all I need today," grumbled Johnny in response.

Roy pulled the squad up near the dock where the Harbor boat was waiting.

"Squad 51 at Station 110," reported Johnny.

SQUAD 51. TIME 09:55.

110's captain met them, giving a brief rundown on the situation. He gave the paramedics a hand carrying the oxygen to the boat and helped load their gear. As soon as they were settled, Johnny opened up the drug box and took out a small packet. Man, he thought, like this is going to do me any good now! I should have taken these thirty minutes ago. Johnny was fervently wishing that the size of the boat would change to something bigger - like a supertanker. Roy, unfortunately, had been right about the choppy seas.

Roy looked sympathetically over at Johnny -- green was not his best color. It had been awhile since they had gotten a call with 110 and they had never had to deal with rough seas before. Unlike Johnny, Roy was familiar with how to ride out choppy seas - not his favorite thing. He too would have preferred to be in a larger ocean going vessel -- with the chilling spray, heading into the wind and the high swells, it was slow going. He was starting to feel the cold himself as he was starting to get soaked. He saw that Johnny was already shivering, adding to his misery, despite the fact that he was smashed into the cabin.

The Harbor boat finally reached its destination, none too soon for Johnny. As they came up alongside, a woman's head popped up from the cabin doorway.

"He's in here," she said frantically. "He's dying!"

This spurred the men from 51 into high gear.