Dreams And Nightmares

A Halloween story

by: Vicki R.

<>*<>*<>*<>Special Note: Happy Birthday Cheryl!<>*<>*<>*<>
Pard, this one's for you.

Afterwards, he wasn't sure why he did it. It was just something he felt compelled to do at the time. Johnny reached out both hands and laid them on the door in front of him. He ran the tips of his fingers slowly over the raised panels, thrilling at the solid feel of the carved wood.

"This can't be the place, Gage," Chet said, eyeing the leaded glass sidelights on either side of the heavy wooden door.

Johnny quickly withdrew his hands, grateful that Chet hadn't noticed his unusual actions. "This is the address Mitch gave me," Johnny said as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and looked at them hopefully. He held one up in front of the deadbolt and gave his companion a lopsided grin. "Think positive!"

The key slid into place with a little click and turned smoothly. Johnny gave a quick twist to the knob and the door swung open before them. In spite of his professed optimism, the paramedic looked shocked. "Guess this is the right address."

Chet eyed the polished hardwood floor and brass sconces in the foyer as they stepped through the doorway. "Then he must have left a zero off of the rent he told you." The two crossed the foyer to look into a comfortable dining room with wooden wainscoting and an handsome candelabra style chandelier. The small dining room set had the soft sheen of old wood that has been lovingly cared for. "There's no way this place can be cheaper than your apartment."

"I think they just don't want the house sitting vacant until Mitch's cousin can make it out here to take care of
the estate. He's some rich doctor in New York, and Mitch said he's in no rush."

They continued down the hallway and stopped dead at the entrance to a spacious family room. Johnny's exhaled breath whistled through his teeth when he finally moved into the center of the room and did a slow three hundred and sixty degree turn. A stone fireplace flanked by built in bookshelves took up most of one wall. A picture window in the center of the back wall framed a view of the mountains. Chet immediately walked to the large television in the corner, while Johnny started running his hands over the spines of the books on the shelves, his eager eyes scanning the titles.

"What about all this stuff? Do you have to get it packed up or something?" Chet sat down and bounced experimentally on an overstuffed chair set at an angle beside one side of the bookshelves.

Shaking his head, Johnny crossed the room into the attached kitchen, his eyes still wide with amazement. "He said I can use anything and everything I want." He began to flip open cabinet doors, looking at the sparkling glasses, plates, and the neatly stacked table linens. "There's supposed to be room in the basement to store my stuff."

Chet followed Johnny into the kitchen and leaned against the granite counter. He folded his arms over his chest and gave an exaggerated shudder. "Won't it be kind of creepy living in an house where some lady died?"

Johnny moved from testing the sink to the stove. "She didn't die here, Chet. After she had the heart attack, she was in the hospital for a month before she died. C'mon," he said excitedly, "let's check out the rest of the place."

A powder room and small parlor completed the downstairs. The two men moved to the back of the foyer and began to climb the staircase that rose toward the front of the house. A magnificent leaded glass window sat in the wall at the head of the stairs. Johnny ran his hands appreciatively over the ornate wooden balusters and top rail on his way up. The smooth surfaces almost felt warm under his fingertips.

They walked through the upstairs hallway, opening doors to small bedrooms, the bathroom, and a linen closet stocked with sheets and towels. Sunlight flooded the hallway, adding a soft glow to the honey-brown hardwood floor. Johnny's heart quickened when they approached the double doors at the back end of the hall. In contrast, Chet hung back, slowing down as he neared the doors.

Johnny opened both doors at once and a large grin spread over his face. "Master bedroom. Man, this is great!" A large four-poster bed was centered on the opposite wall, facing the door. Windows on that same wall overlooked the mountains. A comfortable wing chair sat beside a lamp table that had been pulled before a small stone fireplace.

Chet crossed to the ornate bureau and hesitantly peeked into one of the drawers with a grimace. "Her stuff isn't still in here, is it?" He relaxed when he saw the drawer was empty.

"No, all of her personal things were either thrown out or given to charity." Johnny crossed to a desk in one corner and examined a collection of music boxes sitting there. "I wonder why they didn't take these? Man! Some of them look like they're pretty old. I'll bet they're worth a lot of money." Almost without thought, his right hand reached out and picked up one of the boxes. He gently turned the ornate knob on the bottom and set the box back down. Strains of classical music began to waft through the air. Warmth flooded through him, and he felt completely at home standing in a room that he had entered for the first time just minutes before. "I hope Mitch's cousin takes his time. I'm going to like living here," he said softly.

He missed the slight chill that tensed Chet's shoulders. By the time Johnny turned to face his friend, the Irishman had managed to shake off his unexpected reaction and was smiling over Johnny's good luck in finding the house.

From his position sitting on the counter, Johnny tossed a beer to Matt as he entered the kitchen. Matt Cresci and Gage had formed a close bond when they were partnered for several weeks while Roy recovered from an injury. Since then, Matt had received his permanent assignment to 45s' A shift. Johnny flipped open the cabinet next to his head and gave his friend a questioning look as he pointed to the glass mugs inside.

Matt picked up the bottle opener from the center island. Smirking, he flipped off the bottle cap. "You wimpy California boys! Like my Uncle Gus back in Philly always used to say, real men don't drink beer from glasses." Muffled snorts from the other men in the room stopped him with the bottle halfway to his mouth. His eyes moved from man to man over 51s' A shift. He didn't see a single beer mug until his gaze came to rest on Hank Stanley, who silently raised his mug in a brief salute. Matt grimaced and continued quickly, "My Uncle Gus, of course, was the family idiot, and I never believed a word he said. John, mug please?"

Roy leaned over and whispered into Matt's ear. "Would you like some salt with that foot?"

"I can't believe we got it all moved in just a few hours," Johnny said from his perch. "I don't know how to thank you guys." They had moved John's furniture into a temporary storage facility, and the house's basement now held a modest pile of boxes.

"Well, Gage, it's not like you have all that much stuff," Chet snorted.

"I should thank you, John," Stoker added. "You got me out of helping my brother-in-law paint his garage."

"I know what you mean, Mike, I don't like to paint, either," Marco agreed.

Stoker grimaced. "Oh, it's not the painting I don't like. It's my brother-in-law."

"Don't thank us, pal, feed us," Captain Stanley said as he put his empty mug down. "This wimpy California boy needs some sustenance."

Johnny laughed when he saw the blush spreading up Matt's face. "Pizza and wings and some other stuff are on the way, Cap," he said as he hopped off of the counter.

Roy looked out the French doors on the wall in back of the kitchen table. "Johnny, you've got a table and chairs out there on the patio. Why don't we eat outside?" The house was admittedly terrific, so Roy was having a difficult time figuring out why he thought it would be much more comfortable to eat out in the fresh air.

"Ya know, Roy, I don't even know which key unlocks that door. Here, give them a try." Johnny tossed the key ring to his partner and went back to gathering paper plates and napkins.

Matt looked at Johnny curiously. "Haven't you even been out there yet, Johnny?"

Shaking his head, Johnny started to grin sheepishly. "I liked everything inside so much when Chet and I were here the other day that I never made it out there." He walked over next to Roy and looked out the door. Wooden steps led down to a neat brick patio lined with planters. The ground beyond the patio sloped down to a small wooded ravine that seemed to accent the beauty of the mountains in the distance. Johnny looked over his shoulder with a cocky grin. "But that's because I knew it would be as great as the rest of the place. Look at that view! Isn't that spectacular? Man, I will never get tired of looking at those mountains."

Roy grinned and clapped his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Don't forget this is only temporary. Eventually the owner is going to want to sell." Roy's grin faltered when a shadow passed over his partner's face. I wonder what that was about? "Yes!" he muttered as one of the keys turned in the lock. "How about we move this party outside?" A cool breeze freshened the room when Roy pulled the door open. He stepped out onto the top of the stairs and paused for just a moment to enjoy the crisp air before starting the rest of the way down.

He felt a moment of shock when his foot came down on the next step and a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him backwards just as the wooden step gave way under him. "ROY, WAIT!" Johnny's shouted warning drowned out Roy's gasp of surprise.

Roy found himself sitting on the kitchen floor with Johnny still holding onto his shoulders and kneeling next to him, while the rest of his friends ran towards them.

"Are you all right?" There was a definite tremor to Johnny's voice.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna end up with a black and blue in a very uncomfortable spot." Roy grimaced as he rubbed at his backside where it had hit the ground.

Hank whistled as he looked past Roy's feet. "Good job, John. He'd have a lot more than a sore rear if you hadn't grabbed him." Splintered ends showed where the second step had broken in two. "He would have gone about eight feet down onto those bricks."

Johnny's hands were trembling slightly on Roy's shoulders when he moved them away. "Johnny," Roy asked quietly, "if you've never been out there, how did you know about the step?" He was alarmed when Johnny paled at the question.

The circle of curious faces looking at Johnny were all interested in hearing his answer. "I guess, I…I just saw it start to break under your foot, or something," he stammered. Johnny looked at the skepticism on the faces of his friends. "Maybe Mitch mentioned it, and I just don't remember," he continued, starting to sound defensive. He lurched to his feet and swayed slightly.

"Whoa, buddy!" Matt said as he grabbed Johnny's arm to steady him. "Do you feel okay?"

"I'm fine." Johnny began to look embarrassed. "I've been too busy to eat anything today. I guess that beer wasn't such a great idea. I'm just hungry."

Chet snorted. "Hey Matt, what's your Uncle Gus say about real men being able to hold their beer?"

Matt's reply was cut off by the doorbell. "That'll be the food," Johnny grinned as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. "I'm gonna need a hand with it. I ordered a lot."

Roy watched in amazement as the rest of the men followed Gage from the room. There was not one backward glance to where he was still seated on the floor, with his feet dangling out the open door. "Guys?" he yelled after them. "Is it okay if we eat inside?"


Johnny finished tucking the end of his familiar sheet under the mattress and quickly threw his blanket over the bed. The idea of using the sheets that had been left in the house made him a little too uncomfortable. Running his hand through his hair, he thought wistfully of the large tub in the master bathroom. He had been extremely tempted to make use of it after he was done brushing his teeth, but it was already late and an eight a.m. shift loomed over him. A quick shower had to suffice. His sore muscles would just have to work themselves out.

He looked around the room in satisfaction. It had taken a couple more hours of work after the guys had left, but he had gotten just about everything put away. His things seemed to meld nicely with the other items in the room. It looked like he had lived there for years.

Dropping his sweat pants to the floor he climbed gratefully into the bed and reached up to turn off the bedside lamp. The moon was bright through the windows and he could still see the room clearly as he settled back. This was the first time he had been alone and at rest in his new home, and he enjoyed listening to all the usual old house creaks and groans as a breeze pushed against the back of the structure. Johnny didn't know if it was the wind through loose shingles or just flowing around the eaves, but there almost seemed to be faint strains of music in the air as his eyes drifted closed.

A grin spread across his face and he climbed out of the bed with his eyes still half shut as a sudden urge came over him. He picked up his discarded sweat pants and folded them neatly before putting them on the desk chair. The place was too nice to let it start getting messy. He reached for the item that had drawn him from his warm bed, and turned the knob on the music box as far as it would go without over-winding the spring. It had been a long time since he was able to enjoy classical music. He had recognized the Mozart when he first heard it a couple of days before, but had decided not to give Chet additional fodder for pranks.

The music lilted gracefully through the moonlit room and he felt that unusual warmth flood through him again. He climbed back into bed and a feeling of welcome enveloped him as he fell into the darkness of a deep sleep.


"Good morning, good morning!" Johnny sang out as he loped into the locker room, already pulling his shirt from his pants.

Roy looked at him with a small scowl. "How in the world can you be so chipper this morning, when I'm feeling muscles I forgot I owned after helping you move yesterday?"

Johnny gave his trademark grin. "The benefits of clean living, Roy!"

"How was your first night in the house, Johnny?" Chet asked from in front of his locker.

Pulling off his shirt, Johnny turned to Chet with his hand spread over his chest. "Chet, I don't know the last time I slept that good. Man, I haven't had this much energy since I was a kid!" Dropping onto the bench he started to whistle while he pulled off his shoes.

Roy and Chet exchanged a dismayed look over his head. Johnny with even more energy than usual would make for a very long shift.


The door to treatment room three eased shut behind the paramedics as they crossed to stand in front of where Dixie was working at the desk by the base station. She looked up as they neared. "Hi fellas, how's your heart patient doing?"

"Pretty good. The chest pains are easing and he's back in a stable sinus rhythm," Johnny answered happily.

"Well, chalk one up for the good guys," Dixie smiled as she bent her head back over her paperwork.

Johnny leaned with his forearms on the counter while Roy headed for the coffee machine. "Hey Dix, guess what I did on my day off yesterday." Johnny's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Dixie looked into his eager face and couldn't help herself. "Oh, I don't know, Johnny. Went out with one of my nurses?"

"C'mon Dix, you know I've been seeing Janie for a couple of months now. She worked yesterday."

"Right, I forgot." Dixie watched the excitement fill Johnny's face again as he opened his mouth to begin talking. "Wait," she said quickly, "I want another guess. Um…you moved into a seventy-five year old house with three bedrooms, two fireplaces, beautiful furniture, a brick patio, and a great view?"

Johnny's mouth snapped shut and Dixie looked at him innocently while Roy started to laugh. "That's just a guess, of course."

"Who told you?" Johnny whined before turning a glare on his partner.

Lowering his coffee mug, Roy shook his head. "Wasn't me," he grinned.

"Now, don't get mad at Roy," Dixie admonished. "Matt was here on a run a little while ago and he told me all about it."

"That dog," Johnny grumbled, "wait till I…"

"The place sounds great, Johnny," Dixie interrupted. "Matt told me how you fell into the deal after your friend's aunt died."

"It was unbelievable timing, Dix. With my apartment going condo, I had to either buy it or get out. My aunt left me some money a long time ago. Between that, and the money I've been saving, I really want to buy my own place. But a glorified apartment?" Johnny scoffed.

"Johnny's got his eye on a small house with enough acres for some horses," Roy said helpfully.

Dixie looked at Johnny with her eyebrows raised. She knew the carefree and goofy attitude hid a keenly intelligent and very responsible young man, but she was still surprised sometimes when Johnny allowed her to see that closely held side of himself. "So what's stopping you from buying it now?" she asked.

"It's been on the market for a while 'cause it needs some work, and I've heard the sellers are getting itchy." Johnny shrugged. "I don't mind doing the work it needs, and I can just rent the house I'm in now month-to-month while I wait for them to drop the price. I'm betting they're gonna do it soon."

Dixie nodded approvingly at his plans. Johnny certainly seemed to be thinking clearly and keeping things in perspective with the house he was renting. She couldn't understand why Matt had seemed a little uncomfortable with Johnny's new living arrangements. Sometimes Matt's protective instincts towards the younger man were even more overactive than Roy's.


The room was filled with the soft sighs and snores of a group of sleeping men. Johnny rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling in frustration. Another uncomfortable and sleepless night. He couldn't understand it, because he had been sleeping so well in his new home for the past month. In contrast, his nights at the station over that period had turned into a type of torture. Every time he tried to sleep he felt like little wires in his muscles were winding tighter and tighter, until the discomfort drove him from his bed to pace the station restlessly. The times he was able to ignore the feeling long enough to start dozing, vague fears filled his semiconscious mind and he startled awake.

Johnny stretched his arms over his head with a groan and tried to relieve the ache that was already starting to build. He bolted upright in his bunk and angrily rubbed his hands over his face, wondering again why he couldn't relax. He looked enviously at Roy's peacefully sleeping form and thought wistfully of his own bedroom. A stab of longing cut through him at the thought of his home, and the tension in his body edged up a notch.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he slipped his feet into the boots sitting nestled in the center of his turned down bunker pants. He grasped the waist of the pants and stood up, bringing the pants up over his slim hips with practiced ease while he shrugged the suspenders over his shoulders. Johnny rubbed his hands over the goose bumps that had sprung up on his arms before grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over his undershirt. It was always so damned cold in the station lately.

He actually sighed with relief when the lights in the room flashed to life, accompanied by a series of tones. Even a middle of the night run was better than this torture.


Johnny hung the phone up with a sigh and began shedding his uniform. Janie had been called in to work that evening, killing their plans for a quiet dinner out on the patio. They would have to settle for a late lunch at one of the restaurants near Rampart before Janie's shift started.

He always had a good time with the petite nurse, and was looking forward to spending some time with her in the privacy of his new home. Even though he had been living there for over a month, she still hadn't seen the house. When they were able to coordinate their schedules to spend time together, they ended up on double dates with friends, or back at Janie's apartment with her roommates. It had been a while since they were alone with each other.

His mouth settled into a wistful smile while he let his imagination elaborate on what it would be like to have a romantic dinner on the brick patio, followed by wine in front of the fireplace. Maybe the fireplace in the bedroom. Walking into his bathroom, his grin widened when he eyed the oversized tub while turning on the separate stall shower. We could put some candles in here… He started to laugh. Maybe I should make this a cold shower.

The odor of smoke still clung to him from the run that had pulled them from the station in the middle of the night. The fire at the small apartment house had kept them busy for hours. One elderly resident had been in respiratory arrest by the time they brought him out. The paramedics didn't even know if the man was still alive. As soon as they delivered the patient into the capable hands of Rampart's staff, they had to return to the fire. Johnny was exhausted by the time they were released from the scene, and since it was close to shift change, he had decided to wait until he was home to shower.

He climbed under the warm spray with a groan. If he ever met the person who had installed the modern plumbing into the old house, he would give them an heartfelt 'thank you'. He rested his head against the tile wall and felt the water knead shoulders sore from the weight of his SCBA tank. His eyes were growing heavy in the comforting warmth of the shower. The lack of sleep before the run, added to the stress at the scene, were catching up with him.

Leaning more heavily against the wall, he shut his eyes completely. The drumming of the water against the shower walls and floor faded away. Soft, warm fingers massaged his neck and shoulders. Comforting arms wrapped around his waist.

Johnny's head jerked up with a start and he caught himself as he started to slide down the wall. Great, now I'm falling asleep in the shower and dreaming Janie's with me. Giving himself a shake he grabbed the shampoo and moved to let the water start running through his hair. The corners of his mouth moved upwards when he thought about the interrupted dream.


The washing machine full of towels rumbled against Johnny's back while he looked at his pile of belongings in the basement. Like all self-respecting basements, it was musty and full of spider webs. Most of his stuff would be okay, but it was definitely not the best place to leave his books and albums.

He began to shuffle boxes aside trying to reach the ones that had to be moved. The solid thud from upstairs was difficult to identify at first. Johnny looked up at the basement's ceiling and tried to ignore the hard thumping of his heart in his chest. Squeaks in the wooden floor over his head began to move away from the area of his front door and back to the family room and kitchen.

His shoulders slumped and he gave a shaky laugh. As tired as he was when he got home, he must have forgotten to lock his front door. It was not uncommon for one of the guys to stop over without warning. They probably just let themselves in when they saw the Rover out front, and he didn't respond to their knocking.

"I'm down here!" he called to the ceiling above him as he went back to moving the boxes. The soft noises moved through the kitchen over his head, but there was no answering call.

"I could use a hand in the basement!" he yelled a second time. The hair on the back of his neck began to tingle when he was met with silence once again.

Reaching over the boxes, he picked up his baseball bat from the top of a pile of sports equipment. He moved to the bottom of the steps and looked up to the closed door at the top. "Roy? Matt? Chet if that's you, this isn't funny!" The noises had stopped. Holding the bat at his side, he silently moved up the stairs.

Johnny paused with his hand on the doorknob and put his ear near the door. He couldn't make out any unusual sounds. Easing the door open, he raised the bat and stepped through the doorway. Nothing was out of place in the warm and sunny room, but his shoulders tensed in response to the oppressive silence. A quick glance at the French doors confirmed that they were still locked.

Cold sweat stuck his shirt to his back as he began to move from room to room. A complete circuit of the first floor turned up nothing unusual. He stopped at the front door and dropped the bat to his side when he saw that the dead bolt was locked. The key was required to both unlock and lock the door. Since the key was in his pocket, it was impossible for anyone to have entered. Apparently the old house had a few unusual noises he still had to get used to.

The tiredness he had felt in the shower washed over him again as the adrenaline rush faded. Feeling a little foolish, he left the baseball bat leaning in the corner of the foyer and headed towards the stairs. A two hour nap would fit in nicely before his lunch with Janie.

He grinned as he stood next to the bed pulling off his T-shirt and setting his alarm clock. Maybe I can continue that dream from the shower.

The bed felt wonderful when he flopped onto it, and he sank his head into the pillow with a sigh. Drifting in that twilight world on the edge of heavy sleep, his muscles all seemed incredibly heavy while he listened to the Mozart piece drift through the room. Huh…Don't remember winding the music box.

It was hard to tell at what point the last of his consciousness faded away, and the dream began. The hands massaging his back interspersed their ministrations with little kisses. Her love and desire for him was an almost palpable thing. He turned in the bed and pulled her soft, warm presence into his arms. He felt secure and protected in her embrace, and he lost himself in it.

A persistent and rhythmic ringing pulled him back to the sunlit room. Johnny rolled over groggily and his hand slapped down on the phone next to his bed. "Hello?" he mumbled.

"Yo Hotshot! Want to go play some pool later?" Matt's cheery voice echoed over the line.

"Matt, I just fell asleep." Johnny's reply was tinged with annoyance.

"Asleep?" Matt teased, "Where's that famous Gage energy? It's quarter to one!"

"What?!" Johnny sprang up in bed and looked at his alarm clock. "Oh Hell, my alarm must not have gone off! Matt, I've gotta run. I've got to get ready and go meet Janie at the restaurant. Man, am I glad you called."

"What about pool?"

"Donovan's, four o'clock?"

"Sounds good. Look Gage, drink some coffee before you get there or something, okay? You sound out of it."

"Yeah, we'll see if you think I'm out of it when I beat you," Johnny laughed as he hung up the phone. He scrubbed his hands over his still bleary eyes and glanced at his alarm clock again. He'd have to check it over before his shift the following day. Latrine duty was standard for anybody who showed up late at the station.


"You know, when we said 'loser buys dinner' I kind of had a restaurant in mind," Johnny said.

Matt looked up from the pot he was stirring with a grin. "Bite your tongue. This is Rosie's gravy recipe. You're not going to find anything this good at any restaurant."

"Gravy? I thought you were heating tomato sauce?" Johnny pulled the end off a long loaf of bread on the counter and began to chew on it.

Muttering something that sounded like "medigan" under his breath, Matt shook his head. "Gravy is tomato sauce."

"Not on this coast," Johnny smirked. He had heard the term "medigan" a lot since he started to hang out with Matt. It was just an Italian version of "American" and referred to anyone unfamiliar with Italian customs. "When's it going to be done, anyway? I'm starving."

Matt's eyes did a once-over of Johnny's slim form. "Didn't you go out to a late lunch with Janie? How can you eat so much and stay so skinny?"

Johnny turned his back to Matt and suddenly found the loaf of bread fascinating. "I wasn't real hungry at lunch. Didn't eat a lot."

There was silence in back of him for a minute. "You been feeling okay, buddy? Roy said you haven't been eating too much at the station, either."

Defenses bristling, the younger man turned slowly. "You two comparing notes or something?"

Matt shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Your friends care about you. So sue us. You're not eating, and you're not sleeping during your nights at the station." He held his hands up in a placating gesture and smiled. "You know how Roy is. He worries."

Looking at Matt incredulously, Johnny started to laugh. "Oh yeah, just Roy. So tell me, does Roy say I've been acting sick?"

"Nope, he says you've had so much energy when you come into work lately that you've been running him ragged. So he's also wondering why you've been so hyper." Matt dumped a box of thin pasta into a pot of boiling water on the stove while he talked.

"If my partner is so worried, how come he hasn't said anything to me?"

"I volunteered. Roy can be a little nervous about pushing you sometimes. I'm not. You know me and my big mouth. When something bothers me, you hear about it." Matt waved the wooden spoon he was holding at Johnny. "You think I'm bad? You should meet my Aunt Chickie. She'd have sat you down and given you the third degree by now, and then, launched into one of her famous lectures." He put the spoon back into the pot and began to stir the pasta, but his eyes remained fixed on Johnny's face. "So, you want to tell me what is going on?"

The smile on Matt's face didn't make it to his dark brown eyes. They only showed concern. The same concern Johnny had been seeing and trying to ignore in his partner's eyes.

Johnny sighed and leaned back against the counter. "Man, to tell you the truth, I don't know what it is. I mean, I think it might be because I'm getting closer to buying my own place, so half the time I'm excited, and half the time I'm nervous. I guess I just don't think about it at home, 'cause I'm eating and sleeping great there."

Matt's eyes examined him while the sincerity of Johnny's answer was weighed. Finally Matt nodded his head in acceptance. "And if it was anything more than that, you'd let somebody know, right?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good. I'll tell Roy…" The ringing of the telephone interrupted Matt, and he looked back and forth between the large pot he was about to empty into a colander in the sink and the intrusive instrument.

"I've got it." Johnny grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before a pleasant voice started to speak. "I'd like to talk to Mattie, please?"

"Mattie?" Johnny grinned and saw Matt wince at the sink. This sounded like some new girl that his friend had never mentioned, and Johnny decided to enjoy himself. "Well, hi! Who's this?" Johnny used his 'charming' voice.

"This is his mother. To whom am I speaking?"

"Oh! Um…Mrs. Cresci my name is John Gage. I'm a friend of Matt's." It was Johnny's turn to wince as he tried to switch gears and stumbled over his words. He saw Matt's shoulders start to shake with laughter.

"This is Johnny? My Mattie's told me so much about you! How are you doing, hon? Been keeping out of trouble?"

Johnny glared at Matt while he answered. "Um, yes ma'am. I'm doing just fine."

"How's Janie?"

Johnny's glare turned to a look of disbelief as he kept his eyes on his friend. "Janie's doing fine, Ma'am. She had to work tonight." Matt's grin grew.

"Call me Rose, hon. How about my Mattie? He won't tell me anything about the girls he's dating. Remind him I'm not getting any younger waiting for some grandchildren from him."

Eyes narrowing evilly, Johnny started to smirk at Matt. "Rose! Matt didn't tell you about the girl he's been dating?" Matt's mouth dropped open and he turned a few shades paler. "Let me tell you about Tiffany…"

With a strangled cry Matt grabbed the phone from his laughing friend's hand before Johnny could tell Rose all about the exotic dancer her son was currently dating. Matt pointed at the pasta sitting in a large bowl on the counter. "Put more gravy on that!" he hissed. "No, not you Ma. Oh yeah, he's real nice. Tiffany? Um…"


Chuckling, Johnny drove down the street towards his house. Soft light shone out of the windows of the other old houses on the street. The homes were spaced far apart, and with a high screen of shrubs between his home and the nearest neighbors, Johnny hadn't actually met any of them yet.

He wished he'd had his camera with him to capture the expression on Matt's face when he tried to avoid discussing Tiffany with his curious and persistent mother. At least he'd made Matt happy by eating huge portions at dinner. Johnny had to admit, it was even better than Stoker's. His full stomach and lack of sleep had combined into a pervasive lethargy, and he fought back a yawn as he neared his house.

The Land Rover crunched over the gravel as Johnny turned into his driveway. He felt it as soon as he parked and opened the Rover's door. That pull towards the house. The desire to go inside, shut the door, and forget about the rest of the world. The feeling had been growing stronger over the past month. I guess this is what it's like when you have your own house. He walked slowly up the front steps and onto the porch, pulling his jacket more tightly around him in the chilly night.

The heavy wooden door swung open smoothly and he stepped into the dimly lit foyer. He was glad he had left the wall sconces burning when he went out earlier in the day. Suddenly exhausted, he slumped against the door as it closed behind him and the warmth of the foyer wrapped around him. The sun must have really heated up the house this afternoon. It was so cozy, he was sure his muscles would melt into puddles if he stood there any longer. Drafts through the old house stirred little eddies in the warmth, and a small current of air felt like a caress against his cheek. He leaned his face into the imagined touch and had to splay his hands against the door in back of him to keep from falling when a wave of dizziness washed over him.

That nap this afternoon just didn't cut it. He shook his head as he tried to force the cobwebs from his brain. It took a moment before his fuzzy mind realized that the house was not as silent as he had first thought. The noise just seemed such a natural part of the house's welcome that he didn't notice it at first. He pushed away from the door and walked to the rear of the foyer in confusion. Standing at the bottom of the stairway, he looked up at the leaded glass window at its top. The old wiring in the upstairs hallway light must have caused the fixture to flicker imperceptibly. It almost looked like the window's different slanting surfaces reflected gossamer movements on the second floor.

A small chill ran down Johnny's spine. Scoffing at his overactive imagination, he began to climb the staircase as the music drew him forward. He was in such a hurry leaving for his date, he must have left his radio playing. When he rounded the newel post at the top of the stairs and neared his room, he began to doubt it was his radio. It sounded like a number of songs playing at once, in a mix of notes that should have been discordant, but wasn't. The double doors were slightly ajar and he shouldered them open to stand in the doorway.

The small chill from the bottom of the stairs turned into a full blown shudder as the ice spread from his spine outwards. His wide eyes stared at the source of the music while he fought to make sense of it. On top of the desk the music boxes sat with lids open, some with twirling figures on their tops, others with their knobs and keys slowly spinning as their springs wound down. The tunes wove around each other and filled the air of the room.

He stood frozen in place as one by one the boxes' mechanisms slowed and the melodies faded away. He was not surprised when the Mozart was the last one playing. The copper taste of fear pervaded his dry mouth and his eyes remained locked on the old box until it also fell silent. His harsh breathing was the only sound that disturbed the heavy silence that blanketed the room


"So the police didn't even come out there?" Roy looked up in disbelief from where he was checking the squad's air tanks.

Chet walked around the engine with a polishing cloth in hand and spoke with mock concern. "Roy, the police can't do anything about a ghost!"

"There's no ghost, Chet!" Johnny said with annoyance before turning to his partner. "They said they could come out if I wanted, but there wasn't a lot they could do. Nothing was taken, nothing else was even touched. There have been a couple of break-ins in the area, and they figure it's a group of kids."

"Oh yeah, a group of kids with a music box fetish," Chet teased, shaking his head.

"But how did they get in?" Roy's eyebrows lowered as he examined Johnny's pale face.

"I went out back for a minute before I left to meet Janie. I guess I forgot to lock the French doors when I came back in. They were unlocked when I checked them." Johnny sat on the squad's running board and massaged his temples. "Man, I'm lucky I came home when I did. Who knows what they could have done to the house."

"The house? I'm a little more concerned about what they could have done to you, if you had walked in on them. You're lucky you didn't get hurt," Roy pointed out.

Chet leaned against the engine and looked at his seated target. "So let me get this straight. A group of kids comes in a door you left open, makes their way to your bedroom without touching anything else, winds up a bunch of music boxes," Chet paused for a breath, "and then they somehow hear you pull up out front, make it down the stairs and out the back door before you come inside?" His comment had started as a joke, but as he continued to talk Chet realized just how improbable that scenario sounded.

Johnny lowered his hands from his face and looked up at Chet with a scowl. "You got a better explanation, Chet?" Johnny held up his hand to halt the Irishman when he seemed about to answer. "Never mind, forget I asked."

"Well, I'm just glad everything turned out okay," Roy said as lifted the oxygen tank back into the squad. "Although I'd feel better if the police had stopped by to check things out."

"If I were you, I'd be glad he didn't end up on my couch last night, Roy." Chet gave an exaggerated shiver. "Gage, I would never have been able to sleep alone in that house after something spooky like that."

Standing up, Johnny gave Chet a little poke in the chest. "Well, that's the difference between me and you, Chester B." He spread his hand across his chest and his face broke into a crooked grin. "I slept great last night!" he said cockily before walking from the engine bay.

Chet moved in back of Roy and spoke over the paramedic's shoulder while they both watched the younger man saunter from the room. "Hey, Roy," Chet spoke quietly while lines of worry deepened on his face, "if he slept so good, how come he looks so bad?"

Roy's head just shook in reply.


Johnny was grateful for a slow day. Even though he had slept so deeply the previous night that his alarm clock had a tough time waking him in the morning, he hadn't felt rested when he got up. Trying to hide his tiredness and lack of appetite from his eagle eyed partner had turned the twinges in the back of his neck into a full-blown headache. He just wanted to go home and go back to bed.

He leaned his head back against the dayroom couch with a sigh and laid the newspaper he was holding down on his lap. The rest of 51's A shift were outside taking advantage of the beautifully crisp late October afternoon by playing basketball. Johnny used a phone call to Janie as an excuse to stay inside. If things went as planned, their long delayed romantic dinner would finally take place on the following evening. A slow grin spread across his face at the thought.

Approaching laughter gave sufficient warning for him to be sitting upright and studiously reading the paper when the rest of the crew came trooping through the door. The sudden push upward aggravated the throbbing behind his eyes, and he raised the paper in front of his face to hide his resulting grimace.

"So, are you set with Janie?" The soft voice came from directly in front of him. Johnny lowered the paper and met Roy's smiling expression.

"Yep, tomorrow night, dinner, my place, just the two of us. Man, I can't wait to see her." The anticipatory sigh he released was genuine. Just thinking about her quick laugh and wide smile started to relax the tension from his neck.

Chet sat on the couch next to Johnny and shook his head with a smirk. "Gage, I've got to hand it to you. You have managed to arrange the perfect set-up."

Johnny looked at Chet through narrowed eyes. Compliments from the Irishman were always a little suspicious. "Set-up?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah. A haunted bachelor pad. It's brilliant!"

Johnny dropped his head into his hands with a groan. He heard Roy's chuckle moving toward the kitchen table.

"I can see it now…" Chet continued dramatically, "a romantic dinner, a roaring fire, a little glimpse of a ghost, and Johnny-boy to protect her. She'll be putty in your hands."

"For the last time, Chet, there is no ghost!"

"C'mon, Johnny, can you honestly tell me you haven't seen or heard anything unusual since you've been in that old house? Especially after what happened last night?" Chet watched Johnny with anticipation.

Johnny had started to push himself up from the couch but froze briefly at Chet's words.

Chet's eyebrows went up at the momentary reaction. He hopped off of the couch and followed Johnny towards the refrigerator. "You did see something, didn't you! C'mon, let's hear it!"

Johnny was determined to ignore both Chet and Roy, who sat at the table watching the exchange with an amused expression. Outwardly Gage remained calm as he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the carton of milk. He was a little surprised that his hands were steady when he poured the milk into a glass. He couldn't have answered Chet's excited questions if he had wanted to. His throat felt like it had closed up when Chet asked about seeing anything unusual. For some reason, he couldn't push the image of subtle movements reflected in a leaded glass window out of his mind. A hint of the remembered coppery taste of fear stole through his mouth.

"But Johnny, one thing has me a little worried. What if the ghost is a woman and she gets jealous when you bring Janie into her house?" Chet continued to push for a response from the disappointingly silent paramedic.

Half of the milk was drained with a few quick gulps. Johnny's knuckles whitened on the glass when his stomach lurched as soon as the cold liquid hit it.

"That's enough, Chet!"

Johnny looked in surprise at the unexpected source of the stern words. There was no trace of humor on Marco's usually easy going features as he shook his head at Chet from in front of the stove. "There are some things that you shouldn't joke about," Marco continued seriously. "My aunt used to say if you spoke of spirits without respect, you were just asking for trouble."

"Who's being disrespectful of the spirits? I've seen enough movies to know what happens if you do that. It's Gage I'm harassing, not them!" Chet argued.

"But still Chet…"

Taking advantage of his coworker's brewing argument, Johnny moved to sit across from Roy. "Can you believe those two?" he said in a low voice. He shook his head and began to chuckle. "Spirits!"

Roy placed his forearms on the kitchen table and leaned over them. "I think all those movies have finally gotten to Chet," he said in a loud whisper. "He's finally started to crack."

"Hey! I heard that!" Chet broke in indignantly.

"Yep, definitely delusional," Johnny said, nodding his head solemnly. "Think we'll have to sedate him?"

"I think we should get Brackett on the biophone first. He may demand more drastic measures," Roy replied sadly.

"Guys!" Chet protested while Marco started to laugh.

Johnny looked at Roy quizzically. "Straight-jacket?"

Roy heaved a heavy sigh before answering. "Lobotomy."

Chet marched to the side of the table. "I never said that I believed in ghosts!"

"Denial. Typical symptom," Johnny continued.

"Look Gage…I don't…I mean…you…" Chet sputtered.

"It's okay Chet, just calm down," Roy said in his best placating voice as he began to pat Chet's hand where it rested on the table. He looked at Johnny and started to shake his head. "How sad. The patient is usually the last one to know he has a problem."

"I give up!" Chet threw his hands into the air and stalked from the kitchen. "You people are nuts!" he yelled over his shoulder.

The two paramedics exchanged grins over the table's surface.

Thanks, Roy.

No problem, Junior.


Business picked up for the paramedics while Marco was still cooking dinner. The adrenaline rush of several back to back calls drove all the traces of exhaustion out of Johnny's body. Even though it was after eleven when they delivered the evening's second victim of a new strain of influenza to Rampart, he was bouncing with his usual energy.

The door to treatment room 4 closed behind him with a soft hiss, cutting off in mid-sentence the list of complaints the elderly patient was delivering to Dr. Morton. As soon as the door was completely closed Johnny gave in to the chuckles that had been threatening to break out for the previous ten minutes. Gage had been subjected to the same list of demands, laments, and symptoms for the entire ambulance ride. Johnny was doing the IV wrong. Didn't they have any oxygen that smelled better? The ambulance driver should have never gotten a license. Wasn't the paramedic too young for the job? He would have gladly switched places with his older partner at that point, if they hadn't been backing up to Rampart's ED doors.

It was all worthwhile, however, when Johnny saw the difficult patient apparently didn't hold any greater regard for doctors than she did for paramedics. The paramedic delayed his departure from the room just to watch Mike Morton's blood pressure rise when the patient turned her attention to the young physician. The brusque doctor's sometimes overbearing manner had finally met its match. Johnny's only regret was that he couldn't stay long enough to witness the upcoming explosion. He honestly wasn't sure which combatant would be left standing.

The hall bustled with activity. Johnny crossed to the counter in front of the base station when he spotted his partner looking over a small box of supplies.

Roy looked up with a grin when Gage leaned his arms against the counter next to him. "How's she doing? She survive the trip okay?"

Johnny looked over with a puzzled expression. "Roy, she's not that sick."

"I'm not talking about the flu. I mean, I was ready to kill her before you even got her into the ambulance. I'm not sure how you made it through the ride without turning homicidal," DeSoto snickered.

"I did consider asking Morton to prescribe a sedative," Johnny said with a grin.

"Well, that might have quieted her down," Roy replied.

"Oh, not for her!" Johnny spread his hand on his chest. "I wanted one for me!"

The young paramedic was totally unprepared for the sudden pinch to his backside that sent him leaping into the air with a small squeak of surprise. He whirled around with an outraged expression on his face to meet two pairs of laughing brown eyes, one pair considerably lower than his, one a bit higher. Looking back and forth between the two suspects he could feel the heat of a blush spreading up his neck as he heard Roy's laughter.

"I certainly hope that was you." Johnny had a tough time keeping the scowl on his face at the sight of Janie's infectious grin.

"Don't worry, Hotshot," Matt said, looking his friend up and down. "You're not my type. Too skinny."

"Well, in my opinion," Janie reached out a hand and began to pinch experimentally at Gage's waist, "he's just right."

Johnny shot a fierce glare over his shoulder when he heard Roy snort in back of him. He couldn't stop the sheepish grin that spread over his face when he turned back to the petite nurse. He leaned down and spoke quietly, ignoring the other two paramedics. "So are we still on for tomorrow?"

"On one condition," she answered with a serious expression. "After the day I've had here today," her face relaxed and she gave a small grin of anticipation, "we spend at least some time just relaxing in front of that fireplace I keep hearing about."

"I'll tell you what, we'll start the night with a roaring fire before dinner." He leaned over and whispered softly into her ear. "And we'll end the night with another fire."

He caught his breath at the sound of her throaty laugh. "Why Mr. Gage, I do believe great minds think alike." She glanced down at her watch. "And this great mind has to get back to her own floor. Call me when you get done tomorrow?"

"You got it."

Janie reached out and touched his hand for a brief moment. "And you be careful working tonight." She moved her gaze around all three paramedics. "All of you."

"She's a sweet girl, Johnny," Roy said appreciatively as he watched the trim form retreating down the hallway. He grinned in amusement when his partner's only reply was a distracted sigh.

The second the nurse disappeared around the corner, a firm grip latched onto Johnny's arm and turned him to face Matt's questioning gaze. "She's been working all day?"

"Yeah, she's been pulling extra shifts 'cause some of the other nurses have been calling in sick. Why?"

Matt ignored Johnny's question. "Then who's the girl you had stashed in your house tonight?"

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Girl in my house? Matt, I've been working all day. There's no girl in my house!"

"Why do you think somebody was in Johnny's house?" Roy asked while he placed a calming hand on his partner's suddenly tense shoulder.

Tapping his fingers rapidly on the base station counter, Matt looked back and forth between the two partners. "We just had a run up your way. When we went up your street Eddie commented about you having some hot looking female company." Eddie Sanchez was Matt's partner at 45s.

"Was she standing outside or something?" Johnny asked, pushing his hand back through his hair. "What did she look like?"

"Eddie said he only saw her silhouette in your upstairs window. He couldn't really make anything out cause the light was in back of her, and we went by pretty quick. He said it looked like she was just standing looking out of the window." The puzzlement on Matt's face was quickly turning to concern.

To Johnny it felt as though a layer of cold air had settled around him, and he shivered slightly. "Was he sure it was my house?" His voice sounded raspy in his own ears.

Matt's shoulders shrugged slightly. "He thought so, but he's never been there. Who knows, maybe he was looking at the house next door or something. We didn't pass that way on the way here, so I never got a chance to look." He looked at Johnny's slightly pale face, and tried a reassuring grin. "C'mon hotshot. You know Eddie's imagination, especially when it comes to women. There was probably nothing there. Hell, it probably wasn't even your house!"

Roy's worried voice penetrated the slight buzzing in Johnny's ears. "Johnny, maybe you should call the police. After what happened—" he broke off when he saw the slight shake of Johnny's head.

"After what? Did something happen?" Matt asked.

Gage forced himself to smile and speak calmly. "No, nothing happened. My neighbor thought she saw a prowler the other night, but she's a bit of a crackpot." He was appalled at how easily the lies came out of his mouth. Roy was looking at him openmouthed. He had never known Johnny to lie like that before.

Eddie Sanchez trotted out of a treatment room waving the handi-talkie in his hand. "Hi guys. Come on Matt, we've got a run."

Casting one last doubtful look at the two paramedics, Matt followed his partner down the hall. "I'll call you tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.

Hanging his head, Johnny refused to look up at his partner's still amazed expression. "A crackpot neighbor? Johnny, you don't even know your neighbors!"

"Yeah, so for all I know one of them is a hot-looking woman who likes to look out of her upstairs window. Just drop it, okay Roy?" Johnny couldn't stop the hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Why can't you just talk to the police and let them check it out?" Roy persisted.

"There was nobody there, Roy! I don't need the police disturbing my house! I don't want outsiders in there!" Johnny hissed before turning to stalk down the hall toward the ED exit.

Roy had stepped back involuntarily from his friend's unexpected outburst. The frown creasing his forehead deepened while he watched Johnny angrily walking away.


Johnny maintained a stony silence during the unnaturally long ride back to the station. On top of his guilt over lying and lashing out at his partner, confusion reigned. How could he explain his reaction to Roy, when he didn't understand it himself? And why did the thought of "outsiders" in his home make him so angry? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Roy turn in his direction several times and open his mouth as if to say something. At those times Johnny slouched down in his seat a little farther and turned his head to look out the side window. The quiet tension in the squad's cab remained unbroken.


The station was hushed when the two paramedics entered, the rest of the crew already asleep. Johnny brushed past Roy without a word and headed into the kitchen. He could feel Roy's presence in back of him when he opened the refrigerator to pull out the casserole left from dinner and place it on the counter in front of him.

"Johnny, what's going on?" The words were softly spoken. "Is there something I should know about?"

The quiet concern in the voice ate through Johnny's defenses and the feelings he had been successfully ignoring flooded through him. Goose bumps rose on his arms while he struggled to make his mouth work. "I'm…" he could feel his throat closing up and he coughed to clear it before trying again. "I'm…" He fought to say it. God, why couldn't he get the word out? …scared. The voice that came from his mouth didn't sound like his own, and he was amazed at the words he heard himself saying. "…fine. Everything's okay, Roy."

There was a moment of silence behind him before he heard Roy's sigh and footsteps retreating from the room. Johnny sagged against the counter while he felt a single shudder course through him.


For the first time in weeks Johnny had no trouble falling asleep at the station. He lay on his back in his customary position with his left arm over his eyes, and almost immediately felt the darkness crowding in on the edges of his consciousness. His muscles felt heavy as he was pulled down into the blackness.

He was in his four-poster bed and things were as they were meant to be. His eyes were drawn through the open bedroom door and down the length of the dimly lit hallway. The leaded glass in the window at the end shimmered and moved while he watched in fascination. Ripples spread from the center panes of glass towards the end, the prism-like cut edges reflecting flashes of rainbow light in undulating waves.

It seemed so natural when the shimmering lights began to coalesce into a seductive presence. He watched eagerly as the form took shape and began to glide slowly towards him. The closer it came, the greater the need in him grew. It was all he wanted, all he had ever desired. By the time it reached the edge of the bed his breath was coming in short pants and he was ready to surrender everything he was to satisfy the craving he felt.

His head arched back on his pillow and he gasped as he felt a heavy warmth envelope him. The first touches of its hunger were exciting, and his mind spun dizzily as he gave up all vestiges of control to the forceful presence. Its powerful desire began to pull at his mind. He felt the first stirrings of fear at its strength. His attempt to withdraw slightly, to regain some traces of his senses, only caused a tightening of its hold on him.

The breath was drawn from his lungs and he began to struggle in earnest as panic filled him. It seemed to delight in his struggles, in his fear. Soft, breathy laughter caressed his ears. He turned onto his side and curled up into a protective ball as he choked and tried to draw a breath. His will was weakening, and a hint of corrupt anticipation filled the air around him. It grasped his shoulder and began to pull him onto his back as the fight drained out of him.

"Johnny! Wake up!" The hand on Johnny's shoulder solidified as his bedroom faded away. With a tortured gasp he pulled air into his lungs. "C'mon partner, open your eyes."

Johnny forced his eyes open and his vision swam hazily for a moment before he was able to focus on the worried face looking down at him. Reaching up, Johnny rubbed at his face as though trying to wipe away the fuzziness before pushing his hand back through his sweat-soaked hair. "Oh man, Roy," he finally croaked, "what a dream."

Roy's expression relaxed a bit, but his voice shook slightly. "Are you sure you're okay? You sounded like you couldn't breath."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare." He forced himself to smile. "Not my first, and I'm sure it won't be my last." Johnny felt a slight pressure on his wrist easing up as Roy moved his hand away. Must have gotten him nervous if he's taking my pulse. Eyes opening wide, he began to glance nervously around the room. "Aw, man, I didn't wake anybody else up, did I?"

Roy rubbed at his own face before moving to sit wearily on the edge of his own bed. "No, you didn't wake anybody." He paused while a huge yawn split his face. "I don't even know what woke me up. You weren't making any noise." Shaking his head at the memory, Roy frowned at Johnny. "But you sure scared the Hell out of me when I saw you. You looked like you couldn't breath. Sure you're not feeling sick or anything?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Johnny grinned. "Just remind me not to eat one of Marco's spicy concoctions the next time we get back from a late run." Johnny yawned and threw his left arm over his head. "We should try to get some sleep." He heard Roy settling into his bed with a soft rustle of the sheets and blanket. "Hey Roy?" he whispered. "Thanks for the save."

"Anytime, Johnny," Roy's mumbled reply faded away and the normal nighttime quiet returned to blanket the room.

Johnny's eyes slid shut. The details of the dream were already fading away. By morning he would remember nothing about it.


An early morning rubbish fire had the engine crew up and out of their beds as dawn started to lighten the sky. It was a quick run, and by the time two bleary eyed paramedics stumbled into the kitchen in turnout pants and T-shirts they were greeted by the aroma of freshly made coffee and the morning news on the TV. Eyes at half mast, Johnny shuffled to the counter and pulled two coffee mugs from the cabinet. He filled the first and without a word or a look held it out to his side. He knew his partner would be there to grab it.

"Thanks." The mumbled word was accompanied by the feel of the mug being pulled from his fingers. Johnny nodded a silent acknowledgement and ran a hand through his tousled hair before trying to fill his own mug without missing and burning his fingers with scalding coffee. It felt like a major accomplishment when he finally slumped into a kitchen chair without spilling a drop. Johnny laid his left arm on the table and leaned forward to rest his head on his arm.

"Boy, Gage, if this is how pleasant you are every morning, no wonder you can't keep a girlfriend." Chet's wide-awake voice set the paramedic's teeth on edge. "Oh, wait, what am I saying? None of them would ever be there long enough to see what you're like in the morning."

Johnny knew that to Chet, the perfect way to start the day was to engage in a little verbal sparring with his favorite pigeon. Unfortunately, the pigeon was just too tired. Ignoring Chet, Johnny lifted his head and focused his bleary eyes on his partner across the table. "Man, Roy! I thought you're supposed to feel rested when you get up in the morning. Did we have some runs last night that I don't remember? I am beat!" He didn't add that he still had a little headache and his bones and muscles felt like he had spent the night wrestling with a five hundred pound gorilla. An angry five hundred pound gorilla.

Roy looked pointedly at his partner and spoke carefully. "Well, even without any runs in the middle of the night it can be tough to relax and get an undisturbed night of sleep." Roy raised his coffee to his lips, but flicked his eyes in Chet's direction a couple of times.

"Hey Chet! Your girlfriend is on!" Marco's laughing voice called from in front of the television.

Chet's chair pushed back with a screech as he bounced out of his seat. "Francine the weather girl! Gentlemen, someday I'm going to meet the lovely Francine, and then…" He wiggled his eyebrows before turning to race for the television.

"He certainly does have an active fantasy life, doesn't he? Reminds me of Jennifer and her imaginary friend.," Roy laughed while he put his coffee back onto the table. His eyes focused on his partner's tired face and he continued in a low voice. "So what was up with that nightmare last night?"

Johnny shrugged and sat up to drink his coffee. "Must not have been anything too bad, 'cause I can't even remember it now." He leaned over his coffee and breathed in the aroma with a contented smile. "Mexican at midnight will do that to you. I probably dreamed I was being chased by a giant burrito."

"Now that would be scary," Roy laughed. "When it seemed like you were having trouble breathing I was afraid you picked up that new flu. You know Dixie told me yesterday that they're really seeing a lot of it."

"That's why Janie's been working so much. She said even the staff at Rampart is getting hit. I sure hope it doesn't mess up our date tonight." He sipped from his cup with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Wait a minute…" Roy's earlier statement finally penetrated his brain and he started to chuckle. "Jenny has an imaginary friend?"

"Samantha. She's been driving Joanne crazy for the past week. Joanne even talked to the pediatrician, but he said it's normal and to just be patient. But--" Roy broke off as soon as the tones started to sound. Around the room engine crew and paramedics rose to their feet.

"Squad 51, respiratory emergency, 1821 Woodland Drive. 1-8-2-1 Woodland Drive. Cross street Dunkirk. Time out 7:15."

Johnny groaned as he grabbed one last sip of his coffee. "Why do I have a feeling this is payback for a few hours of quiet?"

The engine crew settled gratefully back into their seats while the paramedics trotted towards the engine bay.


For the twentieth time in an hour, the arguments ran through Johnny's mind. When the idea first came to him it was a nonchalant thought, not a serious consideration. Sitting in the peace of the sun dappled kitchen, looking at the mountains framed by the French doors, he had felt the weariness and aches slip from his body. He had stood up and slowly wandered through the entire house. He touched the smooth wooden surfaces, feeling the warmth they seemed to radiate. The fears and insecurities that at times seemed to be a permanent part of his make-up, fell away when he entered the master bedroom. A part deep inside of himself told him this was where he belonged. He wound the old music box and sat in the chair in front of the bedroom fireplace. The music wove itself around him and he leaned his head back with a sigh. The warmth and sense of belonging that filled him when he was at home left no room for doubts. Closing his eyes he began to doze lightly, random thoughts and images filling his mind. This was right. He wanted to be here, the house wanted him here.

At this last thought Johnny's head jerked up and he chuckled. Let's not get carried away, Gage.

Johnny stood up and walked down the hallway, pausing in front of the leaded glass window. A small chill chased through him, on the heels of a hint of memory from the previous night. Something about his nightmare… He shook himself and pushed the thought away. The hesitation he felt when he was outside of the house was probably due to the influence of his so-called friends. He could feel that they didn't like the house. They just didn't understand how he felt, how important it was to him. They were outsiders.

He had the money, he wanted to own his own property. Sure, he had been thinking of the acreage that could accommodate horses, but what it really came down to was his desire to have a home of his own. And he truly felt like he belonged here. He gazed at the prism like edges of the cut glass in front of him while the decision solidified in his mind. This was right, and there was no reason to delay.

He returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the phone onto his lap. He stared at it and pushed his hand back through his hair. Finally, taking a shaky breath, he lifted the handset and dialed. The call was picked up within two rings. "Hey, Mitch? It's John. Listen, I've got a question for you. How serious is your cousin about selling this place?"

"Dead serious. Why, you know somebody who's interested?"

A smile spread across Johnny's face. "You could say that. Me. Do you know what he wants for it?"

"You? You're kidding!" Mitch's laugh echoed over the line. "I know it's a nice place, it's just not the kind of place I picture you in. Are you sure?"

A jump in his heartbeat took Johnny by surprise. His shoulders tensed and his knuckles whitened on the phone. What am I… "Completely." His eyes widened as the word was propelled from his mouth, but his muscles relaxed once it was spoken.

"Well, you sound sure." Mitch laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it. "Look, I don't know for sure what he's gonna ask for it, but I'm gonna give you a little tip for when you're bargaining." The chuckle that accompanied Mitch's comments made it clear there was no love lost between the cousins. "Kevin hates the place. He always has. Said he never felt comfortable there. Get this," he paused dramatically, "he said he always felt like the house didn't want him there. I think he picked a college on the other side of the country just to get away from it. Left after high school and never came back. What a nut job!"

"Even though his mom was here?"

Mitch's voice dropped and grew serious. "The bastard even blamed the house for Aunt Celia's problems. It never entered his mind that him moving across the country could have had something to do with it. After he left, Aunt Celia became kind of a shut in. Never wanted to leave the house. She didn't seem comfortable anywhere else. Turned away from her friends and the rest of the family. I'll tell you, it just about broke my mom's heart to see her sister like that. I think she had that agoraphobia, or whatever it's called. And Kevin? Wouldn't even come back to see her. He had the nerve to tell me he thought she'd still be alive if she had moved out like he wanted. Like it was the house that killed her and not his neglect! What a jerk!"

"I thought she died of a heart attack. I mean, I figured your cousin is no kid since he's a doctor, so she must have been older…" Johnny couldn't hide his confusion.

"The heart attack was just the last straw. She was already wasting away before that. I tell ya John, it was pitiful. She had Kevin when she was just a kid, like sixteen or something. And 'Mister Overachiever' just zipped through school. Aunt Celia was only in her mid-forties when she died."

Johnny did his best to ignore the whispers in the back of his mind.


The afternoon sun warmed the back of his shoulders at the same time it highlighted the peaks of the mountains against the deep blue sky behind them. Birdsong serenaded him from the brush and trees on either side of his patio. The steak was ready for the grill, baked potatoes were in the oven, and salad was in the refrigerator. It was the kind of meal even his paltry cooking talents couldn't destroy. Matt had offered to teach him a couple of Rosie's recipes, but the paramedic decided to hold off on them until he actually owned the house. The kitchen wasn't his to destroy yet. It would be an afternoon dinner because there was a chance Janie would be called in to work more overtime at the hospital. If she didn't have to go, he was sure they would think of something to do during the extra time they would have in the evening.

Soft footsteps padded across the bricks in back of him and a smile spread over Johnny's face. She was right on time. A soft rose scent crept into the air around him. He closed his eyes when her hands came to rest on his shoulders and he leaned back further in his chair, pushing them against her touch. His reward was a soft sigh and a gentle kiss against the top of his head. Her left hand lifted from his shoulder and the tips of her fingers skimmed across the side of his neck. The light touch felt cold against the tender skin there, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the sensation.

"Let's warm you up," he murmured, reaching up for her hand. He was surprised at how chilled it felt in his grasp as he brought it to his lips to plant a soft kiss on her palm. She gently pulled her hand away and rested that same palm against his warm cheek.

"Johnny?" Janie's searching call came from the brick path that lead from the front of the house to the patio.

Eye's flying open, Johnny bolted upright in his chair and twirled around. He was alone on the patio. His heart hammered in his chest as he reached up to trail his fingers over his cheek where a loving hand had momentarily rested.

"Johnny? There you are!" Janie's slim form emerged into view as she stepped from the walkway onto the patio.

The paramedic sat staring at her, his face draining of color. His attempt to stand was thwarted by an intense wave of dizziness and legs that refused to cooperate.

"Honey, are you okay?" Janie was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face in her soft hands. "You're a little warm. How do you feel?"

His eyes darted frantically around the patio before finally coming to rest on her concerned face. "Janie?" emerged in a strangled whisper.

"Who else would I be?" she questioned with a puzzled grin.

Wordlessly he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace against his chest. He buried his nose in her soft hair and breathed in the soft lavender scent with a little gasp. Her arms came up behind him and she stroked one hand up and down his back while the other held him close. "Johnny you're shivering. Tell me what's the matter, honey." Keeping her arms around him she pulled back just enough to look up into his face. "Are you sick? Did something happen? Is it Roy or Matt?"

He shook his head and took a trembling breath. "No, no, everybody's fine…everything's fine." An embarrassed smile settled onto his face. "Um…I think I fell asleep when I was sitting here and started to dream. I just woke up when you came around the house."

"You looked so upset. Was it a nightmare?" She pushed his hair off of his forehead with gentle fingers.

"I guess…I don't really remember." He gave a little shrug and pushed himself to his feet, pulling her up with him. "But it's okay, you saved me," he said with a crooked grin. "My hero." He lowered his face close to hers.

"Glad to help," she whispered before meeting his lips.

As the kiss deepened, prickles on the back of Johnny's neck strengthened until the skin was crawling. Someone is watching us! He broke the kiss off and looked in the direction of the brick path, but it was deserted as far as he could see. Movement stirred on the edge of his peripheral vision and he felt his stomach clench as he twisted his head around to locate it. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the closed French doors. There was nothing there.

"It's so quiet out here. I feel like I'm in a church," Janie whispered next to him. She was looking at the view of the mountains and rubbing her hands over the goose bumps that were growing on her arms.

Johnny brought his attention back to the patio and realized that Janie was right. He wondered when the birds had stopped singing.


Janie placed the bowl of salad on the kitchen table and stood staring at it while she rubbed her arms. Johnny felt her startle slightly when he touched her shoulder. "The steaks are done. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she replied, turning to him with a smile. Eyes darting past him, she seemed to do a quick scan of the kitchen. Her fingers picked nervously at the edge of the plastic wrap over the salad. "I have an idea!" she continued in a rush, with an overly bright smile. "How about if we eat outside? It's a gorgeous day, and I just love your patio!"

"Uh…sure, if that's what you want," Johnny replied looking at her quizzically. "I thought we would eat in here, and I could light a fire…but if you'd rather go outside—"

It was hard to miss the relieved slump of her shoulders. "Great, I'll start taking things out." She turned and reached for the salad but was stopped by Johnny's hand on her wrist as he pulled her around to face him again.

"Wait a minute!" he laughed. "We can eat dinner outside, but how about dessert in front of the fireplace?"

Her face softened when she looked at him. "I think that can be arranged," she murmured. Her breath gave a little hitch when Johnny lifted her hand to his face.

When Johnny's lips met her palm, memories of kissing another palm skittered through his mind. He was determined to ignore the chill that seemed to wind around his ankles when he reached up and cupped her cheek for a moment. "I've missed you," he said softly. A cold draft moved against the back of his neck, tightening the muscles.

She sighed and the corners of her mouth turned up in a little smile. "I know. Schedules have been a little crazy lately. Hopefully things will start slowing down soon." The smile slipped away as her shoulders gave a little shake. She pulled her hand away and picked up the salad. Her eyes roamed the room once again. "A fire might be nice," she said softly, backing towards the French doors. "It's…cold, in here."

Johnny watched in amazement as she turned on her heels and practically fled out of the doors. Turning in a slow circle, he scanned the room in back of him before leaning against the table and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. The flickers in the corner of his vision that had started on the patio were still appearing occasionally, along with the eerie feeling of being watched. A pool of cold air settled around him and he began to shiver as he moved his fingers to his now throbbing temples. Great! I must be coming down with something.

The sound of soft laughter brought his head up and he looked through the French doors, down to where Janie was lifting the steaks off of the grill with her back to him. Warmth stole through him while he watched her, and an answering smile worked across his face while he listened to her continued mirth. I wonder what she's laughing… Janie turned from the grill and there was no humor in her expression. If anything, when she glanced up at the house she looked afraid.

Johnny clutched the side of the table to prevent his suddenly rubbery legs from spilling him to the floor. The laughter increased in time with the wave of dizziness ripping through him, and he gave a soft moan as he clutched at his head. He wasn't sure how long he remained like that while the dizziness and laughter faded away together, but it couldn't have been very long. The next time his looked, Janie was just setting the platter of steak onto the table.


The phone call came while they were putting their dishes into the sink. The flu still had a grip on the hospital. Not only were staff members being felled by it, they were seeing more and more admissions as a result of it. Janie's face as she stood at the door saying good-bye was a study in contrasting emotions.

"I wish I wasn't going to my sister's tomorrow. Promise me you're going to take some aspirin and just rest," she said as she pulled her hand away from his forehead with a frown.

"I'm fine!" Johnny protested. "I'm just tired. This flu has kept Roy and I pretty busy too." He was glad he didn't tell her about his dizzy spell in the kitchen when he saw how she reacted to his pale face and subdued mood during dinner. "It's barely dinnertime!" he said pointing at the late afternoon sun. "A little too early for bed, mom!"

"I'll 'mom' you!" she said, swatting his backside before trotting across the porch and down the steps. She paused when she reached the driveway and looked at him with a small flicker of worry. "I'll call you when I get a break later."

"Sounds good. Try not to over-do tonight, all right? And I'll give you a rain check on dessert!" he called as she climbed into her car. He heard her laughing before the car door thumped shut. The affection that filled the sound was so different from the laughter he'd thought he heard in the kitchen, he didn't know how he could have been confused.

The expression on her face when she left played through his mind's eye again while he tried to put his finger on why it had disturbed him. There was worry, regret, that look of tenderness she usually seemed to have when she looked at him…and something else. Relief. She had been relieved to be getting away from the house.

Turning to face the foyer's shifting shadows, he started to wonder if she was right.


Johnny moved from room to room, growing increasingly alarmed when he thought of everything that had happened over the previous weeks. What concerned him the most was his reaction to the bizarre events. Instead of being scared out of his wits, he had downplayed and accepted everything. Even now, he was fighting the desire to just ignore the episodes on the patio and in the kitchen. A part of him wanted to just surrender to the alluring comfort of the house. To just lay in his bed and… He leaned against the wall and rested the side of his face against the cool wallpaper. He didn't feel good, and he was overreacting. His bed did seem very inviting.

He was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell startled him. The annoyance on his face fell away when he saw the small ballerina who was waiting outside his door.

"Uncle Johnny! Look at my costume! Isn't it beautiful?" Jennifer DeSoto giggled as she twirled on her tiptoes.

"It certainly is! You are the best looking cowgirl I've ever seen!" Johnny said as he crouched down to be eye level with his small visitor.

The small blonde placed her hands on her hips and struggled for a grown-up look of exasperation. "Uncle Johnny! I'm not a cowgirl!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." A look of intense concentration came over the paramedic's face and he tapped his chin with his index finger. "I know, you're a clown!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes and looked at her father. "Daddy, Uncle Johnny is silly!"

Roy smirked from the doorway where he was leaning. "I've been telling him that for a while, pumpkin."

Johnny stood up and lifted Jennifer in his arms. "Now Roy, even I know she's not dressed as a pumpkin! You know what, sweetie? Looking at you, I just want to dance." He clasped her hand and lifted her arm out to the side as he began to waltz around the foyer. The delighted little girl wrapped her legs around his waist and held tight with her other hand.

"That's because I'm a ballerina," she giggled.

Johnny stopped dead and stared at her with a surprised expression. "A ballerina! Well, that explains why I wanted to dance." He gave her his most charming smile. "And you are the most beautiful ballerina I have ever seen." He placed her gently back onto the ground and turned to Roy. "Daddy, can this prima ballerina have a small piece of cake?"

Looking back and forth from his partner's relaxed grin to his daughter's eager hops, Roy gave a short nod. "But just a small one," he warned as he followed the excited pair into the kitchen.


Johnny ran his finger across his plate to scoop up the last of the fudge frosting smeared there. He licked his finger and grinned at his partner's amused expression. "Couldn't let it go to waste."

Roy shook his head as he pushed his own empty plate away from him. "Just don't let my daughter see you do that," he grinned. "This cake is really good."

"Yeah," Johnny sighed, "It was supposed to be our dessert after dinner." He looked at his partner suspiciously. "You know, Roy, last you heard, Janie was supposed to be here tonight. So what are you doing here? Did she call you?"

The confusion on Roy's face answered the question. "Why would she call me? Last I heard, she wasn't even coming over until seven. We thought we'd sneak in a quick visit before she got here because Jenny wanted to show you her costume. I didn't know your plans were changed until you mentioned her getting called in a little while ago." Roy's eyes narrowed. "Back to my question…why would she call me?"

Standing up, Johnny grabbed the three plates from the table. He used a napkin to wipe crumbs from the table onto one of them while he answered, breaking eye contact with his partner. "Oh, I thought she might be worried that I was mad about her having to work or something," he said as he walked to the sink.

"Are you?"

Johnny shrugged one shoulder while he placed the plates in the sink. "Not really. I mean, we're off tomorrow, so maybe I'll get to see her then if she doesn't go to her sister's."

"I'm glad we are off tomorrow. Have you been watching the weather on the news at all?" Roy asked.

"No, I haven't had a chance. Why?" Johnny turned and leaned against the sink, looking at Roy with curiosity.

"High pressure to the Northeast, low pressure over the ocean, low humidity, et cetera, et cetera. And it's late October. You know what that adds up to."

Johnny groaned and hung his head. "Santa Ana's."

"Yep." Roy stood from the table with a grin. "But the good news is, they think the weather fronts should be changing within a couple of days, so they may 'blow over' before we're back at work."

Johnny groaned again, this time at his partner's rotten pun. "I'll round your wayward daughter up for you." he laughed as he left the kitchen and headed into the foyer. They had allowed Jennifer to go up to one of the spare bedrooms where Johnny had stored a box of books including a volume of photography that she loved to examine.

When he was halfway up the steps the sound of tinkling laughter reached his ears. It would have made him smile if it hadn't been accompanied by music. His heart roared in his ears and he increased his speed until he was flying up the stairs, trying to hold his panic in check. One of the double doors to his bedroom was ajar, and the melody reached to him from the opening, pulling him forward. He froze on the threshold of his room and watched the scene beyond, ice spreading through his veins.

Jennifer was on her toes, arms raised in the air as she waltzed and twirled gracefully around the room, timing her movements to the music of Mozart. She threw her head back and laughed as she spun, her eyes passing over Johnny without seeing him. Johnny walked into the room and reached a trembling hand out, feeling like he was fighting his way through thick, cold, molasses. She stopped abruptly when he finally grasped her arm, and looked up at him with glassy eyes and a dreamy smile. "She danced with me, Uncle Johnny! Samantha was here and she danced with me!" Jennifer's eyelids drooped and she held back a yawn. "I want to come back and dance with her again, Uncle Johnny. She wants me to come back too."

Johnny didn't trust himself to speak. He picked her up and held her in his shaking arms as he backed out of the room, away from the music. "Is it time to go home? I'm tired." She laid her head on his shoulder as he turned to walk down the hallway. The leaded glass window he faced shimmered and reflected the hall around him and the open door in back of him. He gasped and lowered his eyes when it seemed to show movement in back of him. "I wish I could live here with Samantha all the time," Jennifer murmured against his neck. Her warm breath was in marked contrast to the cold air that pressed against his back.


Pushing the door closed behind him, Johnny slid to the floor and leaned back with his arms wrapped around his chest as shudders shook him from head to toe. He leaned his hot forehead against his drawn up knees and forced himself to think rationally. He would have asked Roy for help, but he wanted Jennifer away from the house as soon as possible. Matt was spending the night with Tiffany, and then going straight to 45s for an overtime shift in the morning. Johnny thought of his key to Matt's apartment. Matt had eagerly offered to let Johnny temporarily use his large second bedroom when he first found out that Johnny needed a place to live.

Johnny forced himself to his feet and set to work. Boxes that had just been unpacked a month ago were rapidly brought up from the basement. Some were piled in the family room, while others were carried right up to the bedroom. He decided to start with the things he valued the most. For some reason it seemed important to get those things out of the house as quickly as he could. Photographs, gifts from friends, favorite books, mementos he had gathered, all were frantically stuffed into the first few boxes he packed into the Land Rover. They were followed by photography equipment, albums, and clothes.

By the time Johnny returned from taking the first load to Matt's, the house felt like an icebox to him. The shivering was constant and the ache in his head seemed to have taken up permanent residence. He began to carry out the boxes that had never even been unpacked, moving like an automaton.

He stopped in the bathroom to throw water on his face when the Rover was ready with its second load, and was shocked by the flushed, wide eyed face that stared back at him from the mirror. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his head against the cool glass. His original rush of adrenaline was gone, and exhaustion was creeping into him, along with more logical thought. What am I doing? This is nuts! His breathing was slowing and he was starting to feel warm and comfortable. I'll just have to go to Matt's and get all my stuff back in the morning. He moaned when warm hands massaged the back of his neck. Nice…that's nice… The caress began to hold him more tightly and he jerked away from the mirror with a sudden gasp and twirled to face the empty bathroom.

His stomach clenched in a strong spasm of fear and he barely made it to the toilet before he vomited. Grabbing a tissue, he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand as he pushed himself upright. The room spun and tilted for a moment, and he leaned against the wall trying to slow his breathing. Okay, so maybe it is the flu. The unsteadiness passed as he crossed to the sink to rinse his mouth.

In his mind, all of the strange things he had experienced were nothing more than the symptoms of an impending flu. His gut feeling, however, was that it would be a good idea to get the next load of boxes to Matt's, and try to grab a few hours of sleep there. He looked at his watch and sighed as he dug his keys out of his pants pocket. Two a.m. The remainder of the packing would just have to be finished the next day. Hopefully, things would seem a little more normal in the daylight.


Matt yawned as his apartment door swung open before him and he stumbled into the dark living room. If I had remembered to bring the clean uniforms with me I could still be asleep. But no, Tiffany describes her plans for us and I go rushing out like a—OW! With a startled curse he lifted his sneaker clad foot and began to vigorously rub his toes. He blinked his eyes trying to focus in the dark.

"What the…" he muttered when he saw the small pile of boxes he had collided with. His hand reached out to the nearby wall switch and light flooded the room. On top of the boxes was an 'LA County Fire Department' sweatshirt that he recognized immediately. He walked into the small hallway that ran from the living room and stopped in front of a closed bedroom door. An expanding band of light illuminated the additional boxes in the bedroom as he pushed the door quietly open.

The figure huddled in the bed moved restlessly when the light fell across his face, and Matt pushed the door closed a little after he stepped into the room. He was surprised when the activity didn't wake his friend. Johnny was a notoriously light sleeper. Matt crossed to the side of the bed and warning bells began to go off in his head. He didn't like the sound of the sleeping man's breathing. There was also the way he was laying. He was on his side curled into a ball, looking as though he was trying to protect himself from some threat.

The biggest question was obviously 'what was Johnny doing here'. But Matt wasn't worried about Johnny's presence, he was relieved. Matt had always felt there was something off about Gage's rented home, something dark that set his teeth on edge whenever he was there. Apparently Johnny had finally come to his senses and gotten out. Habits instilled in him during twelve years of Catholic school training came back to the Italian paramedic and he crossed himself quickly and said a small prayer of thanks.


It wasn't until he was closing the refrigerator with a glass of orange juice in his hand that Johnny noticed the note stuck under a magnet on the front of it.

Hey Hotshot. What's up? Everything cool? Make yourself at home and give me a call when you're up. Glad to have you, buddy. MAKE SURE YOU CALL ME! M.

The paramedic smiled and shook his head. He was lucky to have the friends he did. His smile turned to a grimace when the juice hit his inflamed throat. At least he was lucky this flu came on slowly, unlike the virus that had almost killed him a year ago. This time he should have the chance to finish the things he needed to do at the house. He grabbed the phone and dialed 45s.

"Station 45, Firefighter Sanchez speaking."

"Hey Eddie, it's John. Your partner around?"

"Gage? Man, you don't sound too good," Eddie chuckled. "Wild night or something?"

"Or something. Hey, how'd you let Matt talk you into doing the double with him?" Johnny rasped.

"Guess I'm just a glutton for punishment," Eddie laughed. "Hold on, here's Matt."

"Glutton for punishment…Didn't tell you about the new stereo he wants and how handy the extra money will be, did he?" Matt's voice grumbled.

Stereo…man, my stereo is still in a box upstairs…I'll have to make sure I grab it…

"Johnny? Yo Gage! You there man?"

Johnny's fuzzy thoughts came back to the present when he heard Matt's voice calling to him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, calm down! I was just thinking about something." Johnny's voice turned a little hesitant with embarrassment. "Uh…Matt, is it okay I crashed here? It was kind of a sudden decision."

"You know it is, buddy." Matt's voice was softly serious. "So, are you out of that house now?"

"Yeah, I've just got to pick up some more stuff today, and then I'll start looking for my own place." Johnny put his hand over his mouth to muffle a cough.

"Why don't you just leave anything that's left until we're all off in a couple of days, and then you can have some help moving? You don't sound like you should be moving stuff by yourself today." The worry came through clearly on the phone line.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Johnny insisted. "I only have a little bit more to get right now, then I'll leave the rest. One more trip should do it."

There was silence over the line for a minute. "Look, John, I don't really like you finishing it up by yourself, but if you're gonna, then make sure you get it done during the day. The Santa Ana's have died down a little now, but you know they're going to pick up again when the ocean breezes get weaker later. You know what kind of havoc they can cause then, especially out your way."

Johnny rubbed at his burning eyes. "I hear ya, buddy. Don't worry, I'm gonna make this quick."

"Good." Once again there was silence. It was broken when Matt took a deep breath and began to speak rapidly. "Just don't take your time there, all right? You're gonna think I'm nuts and I don't care. I've had a bad feeling since you moved in there. A real bad feeling. It seemed like you loved the place, so I didn't want to say anything, but I'm glad you're getting out. Maybe when you're done in there I'll be able to breathe again. Cause right now I still feel like somebody's walking on my grave, and it's getting me real nervous. Watch yourself there today."


Cursing again, Johnny pulled into the gravel driveway in front of the house. He had made the mistake of lying down after he talked to Matt, and had fallen asleep. By the time he woke up the afternoon was half over and he felt even worse.

As he climbed out of the Rover he felt an immediate pull towards the house. The promise that once he came inside, everything would be fine. The world around him started to spin and he had the sudden urge to get back into the Rover and leave everything that was still in the house until it could be picked up on a different day. A fierce gust of wind pushed his hair off of his hot forehead, and he closed his eyes against the grit that it kicked up. When he reopened them, the world was stable once again. He headed into the house clutching a suitcase he had borrowed from Matt.

The previous evening's icebox had been replaced by a furnace. Sweat beaded on Johnny's top lip as soon as he stepped into the foyer. Whispers of sound surrounded him as the wind outside shifted direction and began to push against the front of the house. Little eddies stirred in the heat around him and Johnny's shoulders tensed when they moved across his cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders to loosen them and moved back to the family room to grab a box before climbing the stairs.

He began to gather his remaining clothes and quickly packed them into the suitcase. The wind had shifted once again and was gusting against the back of the house. Occasional howls of air from the fireplace chimney echoed through the room. At least they drowned out the other noises caused by the sirocco. The ones from the eaves and the attic that sounded like tinkling music. And whispers. The oppressive heat was starting to make him nauseated. He wiped the back of a shaking hand against his mouth as he started down the stairs with the suitcase. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here today.

The wind tried to pull the suitcase from his hands as he lifted it into the back of the Rover. Johnny looked at a large tree in his front yard with worried eyes. He didn't like the way it groaned in the relentless wind as it leaned towards the driveway. Maybe I should move the Rover… His eyes examined the distance from his front door to the street and he sighed. Unfortunately he didn't think he had the energy to carry his stereo that distance. After the stereo was loaded, he would move the vehicle.

The wind died and the air became completely still as he moved into the house. The resulting ominous silence inside lifted the hair on the back of his neck as he climbed to the second floor. He grunted as he lifted up the two boxes holding his stereo receiver and turntable and made his way to the stairs. His heart started to beat rapidly and he fought the urge to rush down the steps with the awkward boxes in his arms. The still air made it feel like the house was holding its breath, anticipating something. He was halfway down when a strong blast of air hit the side of the house, rattling the windows and doors. Startled, Johnny fought to maintain his balance. Almost immediately there was a loud crack from the front of the house followed by a solid thud.

The boxes were hastily deposited in the foyer, and Johnny ran out of the front door cursing. The large tree had lost its battle and was now lying next to the driveway. Any hope that the paramedic felt when he realized that the tree hadn't landed on his Land Rover died when he walked around the back of the vehicle and saw the heavy branch that blocked the driveway. The branch would have to be cut for him to get out.


Johnny slammed the phone down and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. Between busy signals and endless unanswered ringing, he had not been able to reach anyone to help him. He had finished loading the Rover between calls, wanting it to be ready to go once the tree was moved.

He was soaked with sweat and grimaced at the unrelenting pain that had settled into his joints. He had made the mistake of trying to chop through the tree with an old axe that he'd found in the basement. The dull edge had barely dented the wood. Swinging it, however, had used up the little energy he had left. A sudden tightening in his chest was enough warning for him to spread his right hand over his sternum while he held his left fist in front of his mouth. Pushing against his chest seemed to ease the pain there slightly when the ragged set of coughs bent him over. The virus may have come on slowly, but once it decided to truly take hold, it had attacked with a vengeance.

The house was still hot, but he was freezing. Every time a gust of wind pushed a draft through the old walls, the sweat on his skin chilled him to the bone. There was no getting around it. If he stayed the way he was, he would end up with pneumonia. He carried an overnight bag containing a change of clothes into the master bathroom. The wind was in one of its lulls, and the sound of the water when he turned the shower on was a welcome break from the oppressive quiet.

With bleary eyes he looked at the empty towel racks and almost turned the water off. Chills wracked his muscles and he leaned into the steam that billowed from the shower. It wouldn't kill him just this once to use the towels that were sitting in the linen closet when he moved in.

He was returning with a pile of towels in his arms when the ringing of the telephone split the air. Eagerly he grabbed it, feeling like someone was throwing him a lifeline.

"Gage! What the hell are you still doing there? I thought you'd be back at my place hours ago!" Matt's voice alternated began anger and worry.

"Yeah, well, I ran into a bit of a snag. Wind brought down a tree in my yard and I'm gonna need a chainsaw to get out of my driveway." Johnny winced at how weak his voice sounded in his own ears.

There was no anger in Matt's voice when he replied, but the worry had notched up a few degrees. "What about Roy or one of the other guys? There's got to be somebody who has a chainsaw!"

"I've been trying to get help for the past couple of hours. I couldn't reach anybody. I even tried to reach you. Kept getting a busy signal." The paramedic sat on the edge of his bed and fought the desire to just lay down.

"Man, I knew something was wrong. I've been ready to jump out of my skin for the last hour. The wind must be causing some problems with your phone, cause nobody's been on the phone here. Look, let me see if I can reach somebody to get you out of—"

"DAMN!" Johnny pulled the phone away from his ear with a harsh shout when an earsplitting screech blasted over the line. He gingerly held the phone to his ear when the sound died away. The line was dead, and he hung his head as he dropped the useless handset back into its cradle.


Matt held the phone in a trembling hand and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. He didn't like this. Things were definitely not right. Johnny had sounded terrible over the phone. Squad 45 had been kept jumping all evening because of problems caused by the wind. He knew there was no way he would be able to get free from the station to help his friend, and the thought filled him with a sense of dread he didn't even try to understand. Tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wall next to him, he cradled the handset between his shoulder and his ear as he started to dial.


The warm water cascaded over Johnny's shoulders, easing the pain in his joints and chasing away the chills. Through the glass doors of the shower he could see the steam that filled the room swirling in ever changing patterns. At first the rapid tattoo of the water against the sides and floor of the shower drowned out the rising hum. Johnny sensed it more than he heard it. The always unpredictable Santa Ana's had picked up strength again, and were pushing relentlessly against the back of the house. The hum built until it reached a heart pounding crescendo before dropping to dead silence.

Johnny held his breath, somehow sensing that this particular bizarre performance was not yet over. The first thump was soft, barely heard and far away. A few seconds passed before the next one. It was louder, and seemed closer. The gap before the next one was a little shorter. Louder and closer. It's gusts of wind, just gusts of wind. The sentence kept repeating itself in his mind. The next thump was closer, and he jumped when the sound reverberated. He could convince himself it was gusts of wind much more easily if it didn't sound like they were moving up the hallway towards the bedroom. Inside the house, not outside. He gasped when the next thump was loud enough to make the floor of the shower jump under his feet. His breath was coming in quick gasps and he stared through the steam towards the bathroom door. The next thump came from the bedroom and boomed around him as it pulsed through the walls. A split second later it was repeated at a volume that had Johnny throwing his fists over his ears and screwing his eyes shut. The bathroom door rattled and the taste of fear filled the stunned man's mouth. The sound faded away, and once again the drumming water was the only sound accompanying his ragged breaths.

He dropped his hands to his sides and slowly forced his eyes open. The steam still swirled through the room as though nothing unusual had happened. His gaze raked over the room, but nothing seemed out of place. His heartbeat started to slow and his breathing grew quieter. A soft breath of air stirred the foggy atmosphere of the bathroom and for just a moment the space in front of the mirror cleared. Then the steam rushed back to fill the void and the mirror was once again obscured. That brief moment had been enough to start him shivering again, shudders that felt like they were trying to tear him apart. The room spun as his head started to pound. He was sick, his fever was up, and he was starting to see things. It was the only explanation that made sense. It was impossible for letters to have been scrawled across the fogged glass surface. Just four letters. M-I-N-E.


The foreign towel felt strangely caressing against his skin as Johnny wiped frantically at the water droplets beaded on his body. When the last of the moisture was gone he threw the towel away from himself with disgust as he glanced at the mirror for the hundredth time. There were no letters there when he got out of the shower, no telltale smudges or lighter patches in the fog that covered the glass. He cursed as he carried his clean clothes into the bedroom and began to pull them on, totally disgusted with the tricks his mind had been playing on him and how they had spooked him. All he wanted to do was make it to Matt's and go to bed.

His first attempt to tie his work boots almost ended in disaster. He leaned forward from his position on the bedroom's wingback chair and barely touched the laces before the room started to spin and his head to pound. With a groan he sat back in the chair and fought to contain a set of deep coughs. He was only partially successful, and the two coughs that did emerge left him shaken.

"Aw, hell," he muttered, wiping a hand over his watery eyes. "I hate the flu." He tried to ignore the worry that wormed its way into his mind. Though there had been some 'on the job' injuries, he hadn't been really sick like this since the virus a year ago. That virus had come close to killing him. Now his nauseating headache, aching joints, all of his symptoms, brought back some very unpleasant memories. Forcing himself to action helped to chase those thoughts away. He lifted his left foot onto the chair in front of him and reached his arms around his leg to tie his boot.

When he was done he needed to use his arms and push against the chair to aid his legs in moving him upright. It scared him to feel the weakness settling into his body. If he didn't get out of the house soon, he wouldn't be going anywhere.

The chills began when he tried the phone again. There was still no dial tone, and the handset was almost back in the cradle when a whisper of sound arrested his movement. It sounded like a faint voice was coming over the line, and Johnny quickly brought the phone back to his ear. Maybe the operator checking the line… Johnny's blood turned icy as he listened. Soft sighs, murmurs, hints of voices, filled the 'dead' air. They were full of a longing that pulled at him, a lifeless cold that worked farther into his bones the longer he listened. He slammed the phone down and pulled his hand away as though it had burned him.

Chills shook him, and he grabbed the edge of the bed to stay upright when violent coughs threatened to turn him inside out. His legs attempted to spill him onto the floor, but he managed to rest one hip on the bed so that when he did collapse it was onto the center of the mattress. He blessed the inattention that had left one of his blankets on the bed and pulled it over himself as he lay there, shivering.


Roy pulled Joanne's station wagon partially onto the grass that edged the street in front of Johnny's house. The hedges that ran up the sides of the property turned at the front corners of the yard, and one side partially obscured his view of the house. He forced himself to walk when he climbed out of the car and started up the driveway. Matt's panic had been contagious, and Roy had practically flown to Johnny's house after he had finally talked to Cresci.

The wind whipped through the branches of the downed tree, and Roy examined the limb that was blocking Johnny's Rover as he climbed over it. It would take some work, but it looked like he would be able to handle it by himself with his chainsaw. If his partner did have the flu, like Matt thought, then he didn't want Johnny helping.

A frown settled onto Roy's face as he moved up the driveway. He disliked the house, but was still surprised when Matt told him that Johnny had apparently decided to move out not long after Roy and Jennifer's visit the previous evening. He thought Johnny loved the place, that he was completely unaffected by the forbidding atmosphere that filled the structure. Roy had hoped that when Johnny had lived there for a little while, had filled the space with his own buoyant personality, then Roy would start to feel welcome there. It hadn't worked. The house still felt cold and unfriendly to him.

A light flickered in the upstairs hall, visible through the leaded glass window. He knew Johnny thought there might be a problem with the old wiring that supplied the second floor, but it was still disconcerting to see how the light made it look like there was movement behind the window.

Leaning on the doorbell turned out to be a futile exercise. No matter how hard he pushed, it remained silent. Roy looked through the sidelights while he knocked on the heavy door. The sconces in the foyer lit the space softly, showing it deserted and silent. His fist thudded into the door more quickly, keeping pace with his heart. Maybe someone else picked him up. His hand went to the knob and he twisted it without much hope. He wasn't sure which emotion was stronger when it turned and the door swung open, relief or fear.

"Johnny?" Roy's yell seemed curiously muffled in the oppressive air of the foyer. He was strangely reluctant to step over the threshold and into the room. There was a feel to the air that stopped him in the doorway and caused a quick tremor to pass through him. It was ridiculous, but it felt like the house was angry at his presence. Scoffing at the idea, he stepped inside.

He opened his jacket up as he walked through the foyer. Geez, Junior, what do you have the heat set at? It's broiling in here! "Johnny?" He glanced into the rooms he passed and continued to the back of the foyer, seeing no trace of his friend until he paused to look up the stairs. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the brown leather jacket laying over the top of the railing on the second floor. Johnny wouldn't leave without that jacket.

Roy trotted up the stairs and turned immediately towards the back of the house. One of the master bedroom doors was open, and in the illumination from the hallway he could see a figure on the bed. His stomach clenched as he rushed down the hallway and into the bedroom.

Standing next to the bed, his shoulders slumped in relief when he saw the slow rise and fall of his partner's chest. His breathing sounded a bit congested, but not as bad as it could have been. Roy didn't try to stop the grin that crossed his face as he took in Johnny's sleeping form. He was sprawled on his back, an arm flung over his eyes. Something about the position always made him look even younger to Roy, stirring a protective instinct in the older man.

The bed gave a little creak as he sat slowly on the edge and leaned over to touch Johnny's forehead with the back of his hand, much like he would one of his children if they were sick. The smile left his face when he felt the warmth there. Not too bad, but the sooner we get you out of here, the better. Johnny turned his face away from Roy's touch, mumbling slightly as his eyes slid open.

The smile returned to Roy's face as he watched his partner blink his eyes several times before focusing on the figure sitting next to him. A sleepy smile turned Johnny's mouth up as he spoke in a raspy voice. "Hey, partner. Come to get me out of here?"

"Me and my trusty chainsaw are at your service."

"Good! Let's get—" Johnny's quick move to sit up stopped abruptly, and he relaxed back down onto his left elbow while his right hand massaged his forehead. "Whoa, that wasn't a good idea. Let's try that a little slower." He raised himself more cautiously the second time, with Roy's hand supporting his back. "That worked better," he sighed when he was sitting up.

"Headache?" Roy's attempts to feel Johnny's forehead again were held off by the younger man's swatting hands.

"Yeah, I just sat up too fast." Johnny turned sideways and rested his long legs over the side of the bed. "Let's get going."

Roy's grasped Johnny's arm firmly. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked incredulously.

"Roy, let go! I've got to cut that branch that's blocking me in."

"No way. You're staying right here." Roy was startled by the panic in the wide eyes that Johnny turned to him. "I'll cut the branch, partner. You're in no shape to be out there playing with a chainsaw," Roy said with a reassuring grin.

"In no shape? I'm fine! I was just a little tired because I was already out there 'playing with' with an old axe I found. Not that I could get it to cut anything," he smiled ruefully. Roy tightened his grip on Johnny's arm when the other paramedic started to cough. Deep, wrenching coughs that were obviously painful.

"Oh yeah, you're in great shape," Roy muttered sardonically. "After I get that branch cut," he continued more firmly, "you're getting into my car and I'll drive you to Matt's." Or to Rampart to get checked.

"Roy, I don't want to leave the Rover here," Johnny replied quietly.

Roy wondered about what had prompted the unspoken message. Johnny wanted his things away from the house. His worry deepened when Johnny jumped and then started to shiver after the wind threw what sounded like a small loose branch against the front of the house where it cracked against the window at the end of the hall. "Don't worry, I'll get one of the guys to come get it for you and bring it to Matt's. I'll have Joanne drive me and come get it myself if I have to."

Johnny seemed to accept this compromise as he leaned forward to hold his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the tops of his legs. "I just want to get out of here, Roy. I'm sorry I ever found this place."

Roy began to wonder if the branch hitting the facetted window might have put a crack in it. A cold draft was starting to wind through the room. He put his hand on the back of Johnny's neck and gave it a little squeeze. He was alarmed at the heat there. The fever seemed to have increased in the small amount of time he had been in the room. "How about if I get you out of here now, and then come back to cut that branch?"

Almost imperceptibly, Johnny shook his head. "No…don't want you here by yourself." He put a fist over his mouth and tried to muffle a harsh cough.

"Okay. But if I have a problem and that branch starts to take longer than I expect, I'm just going to leave it until later, and get you out of here first." And definitely to Rampart. "Agreed?"

"Agreed."


Johnny was unaware of time passing as he sat on the edge of the bed after Roy went back outside. It was difficult to tell with the wind rattling everything around him, but he thought he could here the chainsaw out front. The high pitched squeals it made as it cut through the wood made him smile, a smile that grew when the noise died away completely after a while, and he knew the branch was cut into pieces. His thoughts were becoming hazy as the fever continued to climb. "Not long now," he muttered to the empty room, "you're not keeping me here."

The cold draft swirling through the room increased, accompanied by soft whispers of sound. Out of the corner of his eye he could see flickers of movement in the hallway. Shaking his head, he continued to talk to the empty room, his voice growing angry. "No more games. I'm leaving." His eyes narrowed as they settled on the music boxes sitting on top of the desk.

He pushed himself off of the bed, and stood holding on to one of the bed posts until the room stopped spinning. Wobbly legs brought him to the desk. He grabbed the oldest music box. He gasped at how icy it felt in his hand when he picked it up, and he brought his arm up to hurl it away. With a sigh he lowered the box and held it in front of him. It was rapidly warming to his touch, the heat spreading through his chilled bones. Closing his eyes, he caressed the lid. He must have wound it at some point, because Mozart filled the air around him. The music seemed to warm the air, and the daggers of pain began to ease out of his joints and head. A comforting presence pressed against the front of him, and arms wrapped around him. Strong hands caressed his back, and he felt his knees start to buckle.

With a gasp, he forced himself upright and brought his arm back. Strengthened by anger and fear, he whipped his arm forward. The music box sailed through the air and shattered against the stone of the fireplace. The air in the room grew very still, as even the Santa Ana's outside died down into one of their momentary lulls. The warmth that had surrounded him a moment before rapidly leached away, replaced by a bone-numbing, angry, cold.


In the end, it wasn't the wiring to the second floor that failed. It was a separate little wire that ran behind the kitchen wall and eventually supplied a clock there. The wind played havoc with the electric supply throughout the area, bringing down wires and blowing out transformers. Usually brownouts or blackouts were the result, but occasionally, when conditions were just right, a power surge flew down the line instead.

The power surge had actually occurred before Roy even arrived at the house. It might have even happened about the time when the mysterious thumps shook the house. The extra electricity was easily handled by newer wires; whole, intact wires, whose coverings weren't cracked and brittle from years of carrying just a little bit more electricity than they could handle.

The wire in the kitchen wall was already hot from the constant pull of power through it. When the power surge hit, it immediately sparked and burnt through. It short circuited a portion of the maze of electrical lines behind the walls, including the one supplying the doorbell. The heat and sparks from the wire behind the kitchen wall settled in the sawdust and wood chips that had been carelessly left behind during repairs many years ago. They smoldered for a long time, supported by the abundance of fuel, and the oxygen that filtered through small openings in the wall.

The temperature in the small space continued to rise, until eventually it reached the ignition point of the wooden beams framing the confined area. Flames spread hungrily throughout the small space outlined by the wooden studs and wall panels, then died down as they consumed the available oxygen. The additional supply coming through the gaps wasn't sufficient to support them. Their size dropped as hot flammable gases filled the confined space. The first barrier to give way was the bottom corner of an outside wooden panel. The flames crept through the new gap and easily ignited the old dried clapboard, eventually creating an opening to the plentiful oxygen gusting around the house. The result was instantaneous. Air was sucked forcefully through the gap, causing an explosion of flame inside the wall. Fire spewed out of the gap as well, and began to play over the clapboard covering the back of the house, strengthened and pushed haphazardly by the destructive Santa Ana's.


Johnny's attempt to get out of the room ended after just a few feet. The cold that surrounded him sapped the small amount of strength that held him up, and he sank to his knees. Slumping forward, he held his upper body off of the floor with his right arm, his elbow locked. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear the haziness from the edges of his vision. A soft moan came from his mouth when he felt the familiar tightening in his chest and he sagged to the ground under the pummeling of the coughs that followed.

By the time the coughing passed, he was dazed and sweaty. He pushed himself onto his back as he struggled to breathe. Turning his head to the side, he could see down the hallway to the window that sparkled and moved before his blurry eyes. No matter how hard he fought to turn his head away, his eyes remained glued to the expanse of glass. Roy…


Roy carried the last section of wood to the side of the driveway and gratefully laid it down on top of the pile sitting there. He stripped off his work gloves and stood with his hands on his hips as he looked at the clear area in back of the Rover with satisfaction. The wind changed direction for a moment and he sniffed, his nose catching a hint of smoke in the air that swirled around him. It only lasted for a second before the wind once again rushed at the front of the house, and all he could smell was the dry, dust filled air.

Looking up at the house, he debated whether to immediately retrieve his partner, or move the Rover first. Subtle cracks and creaks coming from the other trees in the yard decided him. He had no desire to cut any more trees apart. The Rover should definitely be moved out to the street while it was still possible. Now, if he could just figure out where he had put Johnny's jacket when he carried it out with him. The keys were hidden somewhere in one of its pockets.

The missing apparel was finally tracked down on the front seat of Joanne's car, exactly where he had thrown it when he grabbed the chainsaw. Roy found the keys and backed Johnny's precious Land Rover out of the driveway, parking it on the street well away from any threat.


Johnny's eyes widened. The sweat on his face and neck turned icy as he watched the ripples that undulated through multiple panes of glass, flashing blinding rainbow colors at him. The colors drew him in, and he felt his muscles relax under the visual onslaught. Heat rose from the floor under him and surrounded his chilled body. The warmth was pleasant and soothing, and he moaned at the pure physical pleasure of it. A part of his mind knew he should be concerned by the sound of shattering glass that came from below him, and the haze that was building near the ceiling, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Fear and anger were distant memories.

The shimmering lights in front of the window mesmerized him. He watched with fascination as they danced and twirled, slowly blending and coming together into a more solid form. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and wished he had the strength to stand and walk to the alluring presence at the end of the hall. His breath caught in his throat when the presence seemed to respond to his building desire and moved towards him. A shudder ran through him as the hazy figure came closer. He had never needed something, craved something, as much as he did a touch from the seductive force that approached.

It had known from the moment he stepped into the house that this was the one place he was meant to be. Its desire matched his own, and the feeling was intoxicating. His mind whirled in the increasing heat that enveloped him when it finally reached his side. Soft hands caressed his burning face and ran lightly over his trembling arms. The touch soothed him until he lay still and his breath came in short pants. The caresses became more forceful. He groaned as he arched to meet them. The orange flickers beyond the bedroom window cast a warm glow on the floor around him.

The warmth bathed his face and he parted his lips in anticipation of its sultry kiss. The pressure on his lips was gentle at first, and he relinquished control as he lost himself in the soft pleasure. The pressure bore down more strongly and fear began to whisper in the corners of his mind. He pushed against the floor. He tried to slide out from under the increasingly painful touch, but a weight bore down on him, pinning him in place.


Roy climbed out of the Rover and cocked his head to better hear the sirens that were tearing through the night, still distant but getting closer with each passing second. He shook his head in sympathy for the crews that were on tonight. The Santa Ana's always meant a challenging shift.

He reached the driveway and stopped dead with a startled gasp when he looked up at the house. The orange glow leaping towards the dark sky behind it was difficult to miss. The sound of glass shattering in the night air propelled his shocked muscles into action and he raced towards the front door. Wind swirled, and he began to choke when a cloud of smoke descended around him, filling the space between him and the house with a heavy fog. He covered his face with his arm and barreled blindly forward, undeterred. He reached the porch and stumbled up the steps, finally colliding with the front door.

The wind whipped again and the smoke was sucked away as he grasped the doorknob. The knob turned, but the door wouldn't budge. A look through the sidelights filled him with dread when he saw the flames that were already eating at the back wall in the family room and spreading farther into the room as they rolled across the ceiling.

"JOHNNY!" Roy pounded at the door and began to throw his weight against it. It still refused to admit him, and his eyes scanned the porch for another option. The axe that Johnny had mentioned was leaning against a porch column. He snatched it up and turned to the dining room window. It was a sturdy double hung mullioned window, the small panes of heavy glass set solidly in the old wood. The axe made quick work of the pane directly above the lock, allowing him to reach through and unlock the window. It only took a moment to raise the bottom sash and gain entrance to the dining room.

Crouching low, he ran into the foyer. He tore off his heavy denim jacket and threw it over his head, tying the sleeves under his chin and leaving just a small slit so he could see. The fire was still in the back half of the family room and the heat beat against him as he ran to the foot of the stairs. At a minimum, he feared he would leave the house with first degree burns on his hands. At least he had done what he could to protect his head and neck. He charged up the stairs, the axe that years of fire fighting experience had kept in his hand smacking against the wooden balusters as he climbed.


It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and Johnny's struggles to escape became more frantic. He coughed and was unable to draw a clear breath back into his lungs. Smoke from the bedroom's back wall swirled to the ceiling, and loud crackles filled his ears as his movements started to weaken. Soft laughter was hidden in the popping and creaking noises and the air around him darkened obscenely as his struggles ceased. The darkness that had been threatening, narrowed his world to a pinpoint view of hell. The laughter filled with corrupt satisfaction. His eyes fluttered shut to the sound of pounding footsteps ascending the staircase.


Roy's heart thundered in his ears when he rounded the top of the stairs and saw his partner's still form on the floor, back lit by the fire that was starting to eat at the wall behind him. Flames shot into the air on the outside of the window. The wind gusting against the back of the house made the flames look like they were trying to break through the glass to reach the unconscious paramedic.

The roar of fire on the first floor grew markedly louder and a billow of smoke rose up the stairs. The gusts of wind were coming in the broken windows in the family room and kitchen, pushing the fire before them. Time was rapidly running out. Roy scuttled forward in a four point crouch, staying below the worst of the smoke and fire gases. He glanced worriedly at the orange beast that was starting to lap over the top of the desk in the corner, surrounding the music boxes that sat there. It moved fluidly up the blanket that was draped over the side of the bed and began to spread across the mattress.

Grasping Johnny's limp form under the arms, he began to push himself backwards out of the room. Once he had Johnny completely out of the bedroom, he quickly climbed over him to pull the door shut. Saying a quick prayer, he finally looked down and closed his eyes for a moment in relief. Johnny's breathing was shallow and labored, punctuated by an occasional soft gasp. But at least he was breathing.

He continued his journey to the leaded glass window and the porch roof beyond it, towing his partner along with him. A quick glance down the stairs confirmed there was no escape in that direction. The hungry orange glow on the first floor was almost at the base of the steps. The only thing buying them some time was the fact that the house was old and drafty. In a more modern 'energy efficient' house, the smoke held in by the airtight seal would have already asphyxiated them.

Roy grabbed the axe he had left in the hall and stood up in front of the window, holding his breath against the haze that engulfed his head and shoulders. His knees almost buckled when he saw flashing red lights reflecting off of the numerous surfaces. Thank God! The heat of the gases pressed against the denim jacket that he still had tied over his head. We're not out of here yet.

He swung the axe and a crack appeared across the heavy panes. Out of the corner of his eye he could dimly see Johnny's body jerk when the axe hit the glass. The sight fueled unusual anger in the normally easy going man. His mind focused on all of his animosity for the house, all of the worries and misgivings that he had felt since Johnny moved in. The next swing was vicious and a web of cracks exploded across the facetted surfaces. Once again Johnny thrashed on the floor, and began to moan softly. Additional cracks spread outward as the heat and smoke pushed against the window. A low howl started somewhere in the house, and built in strength when he swung the axe again. A large chunk flew out of the window this time, and the howl grew to a roar. Johnny turned onto his side and curled into a ball, grimacing. Roy watched in amazed satisfaction when his final swing slammed into the glass and almost the entire window exploded outwards in an hail of glittering shards. The eerie roar died down to silence. I hope that means the wind is dying down for a while.

The smoke that had gathered in the hallway surged out of the opening. Roy crouched in front of the window and took a few quick breaths of the fresh air. He used the axe to clear away the remnants of glass. As the last glittering piece fell to the floor, a loud groan sounded from the rear of the building and the hallway light finally went dark.

The top rungs of a ladder appeared at the edge of the roof as Roy turned away and knelt down next to his partner. In the flickering glow emanating from the staircase, he could see that Johnny was coughing and gasping for breath. He grimaced when his hands touched Johnny's skin. The heat radiating from him felt like it could rival the fire's. "We're almost out of here," Roy whispered soothingly as he pulled Johnny up and then allowed him to slump forward across his sturdy shoulder. He carefully stood and moved towards the window, his actions made more urgent by the increasing volume of the groan in back of him, and the loud cracks and pops that accompanied it.

A turnout clad figure in an air mask met him at the window, and the limp form was gently eased off of his shoulder. Roy leaned the top of his body onto the porch roof and gasped for breath while he rubbed at his burning eyes. Hands clasped his arms and began to urge him to climb out of the window.

"Roy, let's go! It's gonna flash!" Matt's muffled voice cut through the haze in his brain, and Roy became aware of the increase in the heat against his back. A look over his shoulder showed the source. The bedroom door had an ominous glow around its edges as the temperature in the closed bedroom neared the flashover point.

"Is there anyone else in there?" Matt peered into the hallway past Roy.

"No," Roy grunted as he pulled himself upwards.

Matt's grip on his arm steadied Roy as he scrambled out of the window, and the two of them hurried to the ladder. Sirens split the night as additional units approached the scene. They were both safely on the ground before a muffled roar sounded. Roy looked up at the cleared window as they quickly backed away from the porch. The bedroom door must have finally given way, because rolling waves of flame boiled across the hallway ceiling like a freight train before exploding past the top edge of the window to devour the clapboard above it.

Matt twisted the air valve on his regulator and pulled off his air mask. "Rollover. Impressive to see…from a distance," he muttered as they hurried across the street to where Johnny was being laid down onto a yellow blanket near Squad 45. Roy could barely hear him through the noise of generators and apparatus' engines and pumps that surrounded them.

Don Mason, 45's C shift captain, stood at the base of the driveway with his handi-talkie near his ear, serving as incident commander. He shook his head and frowned as he brought it around to his mouth. "10-4 HT 45. All you can do is keep the 2 ½ back there and try to prevent it from spreading into the ravine. Another line is on its way back to assist." He barely took a breath before launching into the next set of orders. "Truck 127, Montview command. Catch the hydrant at Pine and Montview and do a forward lay. Set up your water tower to protect the northern exposure and get a master stream going. We've got to keep it away from the trees. This just turned into a surround and drown. LA, Montview command. Dispatch two brush units to our location."

Other units were already in place to the south, their deluge guns blanketing the doomed structure with water. The combination of dry old wood and whipping, shifting winds, had made saving the house impossible. Now the biggest danger was of the fire spreading to the surrounding trees and into the ravine. If it wasn't controlled quickly, the Santa Ana's could turn the house fire into a raging brushfire, destroying many more homes and acres of wildland.

Eddie Sanchez unbuckled the waist belt of his SCBA harness and shrugged out of the pack as he knelt next to Johnny. Roy's arm was snagged in a firm grip when he attempted to kneel in the grass on the other side. "Uh-uh," Matt said as he gently steered him to the ground a few feet away. "You took in some smoke in there too, Roy. You're going to have to let me check you over." He held up his hand as soon as Roy opened his mouth to protest, and continued in a no-nonsense voice. "You can cooperate and we'll be done in two minutes, and then I can help Johnny, too. Or you can make it difficult and I'll have to waste my time fighting you instead of helping your partner."

Roy looked at Matt's worried frown and understood what it cost the man to not already be at Gage's side. He nodded mutely and submitted to the examination, keeping his gaze fixed on the restless form on the blanket and speaking only when he needed to answer questions about his or Johnny's condition. His heart sank when a deep frown creased Eddie's face as he read the thermometer that he removed from the ill paramedic's mouth. Roy could see his partner's nostrils flaring with each breath before Eddie slipped the oxygen mask over Johnny's face.

He was startled when one of Matt's solid hands clapped down on his shoulder while the other handed him an oxygen mask of his own. "Everything checks out fine. Just keep the oxygen on for a while. Okay?"

Matt moved to the grass next to the blanket without waiting for a reply. Silently Roy shifted his position so that he could reach the orange biophone case. He opened it and attached the antennae before sitting patiently with the handset in his clenched fist. Matt turned to him with a look of exasperation, but bit back whatever he was going to say when he saw Roy's face. Instead he gave a small smile and spoke quietly. "We'll get him through this."

Cresci pulled the front of Johnny's shirt open and rested a hand on his flat abdomen. His eyes widened and shot to Eddie. "What's his temperature?" he hissed.

"104.6," Eddie answered grimly. "Pulse is 114, BP 95 over 65, no sign of airway burns." He reached across the blanket and handed a small notebook containing the information to Roy, who pushed his oxygen mask aside and made contact with Doctor Morton at Rampart.

"Respiration 30…" Matt looked at Johnny's chest and neck, the intercostal retractions and corded neck muscles were obvious with each breath. "…and labored." He slipped the earpieces of a stethoscope into place and leaned forward to listen intently.

Eddie placed a hand under Johnny's head and tilted it forward until his chin touched his chest before laying it back down. "No stiffness," he said with relief before moving down to examine Johnny's fingers, pinching the skin at the tips. "Showing signs of dehydration."

"Bilateral rhonchi, some rales," Matt said as he pulled the stethoscope off. He grabbed Johnny's forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Damn, Hotshot, did you go right from the flu to pneumonia?"

Roy passed the information along in a dazed voice, and reached out to rest a hand on his partner's hot shoulder when frantic mumbling started to sound from under the oxygen mask. "Take it easy Johnny, you're going to be fine. You're out of the house, and Matt and Eddie are here, too."

Johnny's movements quieted at Roy's touch, and his eyelids fluttered open and closed several times before finally coming to rest at half mast. His glassy stare moved languidly around the faces circling him, but it was impossible to tell if he was actually seeing them.

"Hey, buddy, just a little pinch while I put this IV in," Matt said with a smile, "nothing fancy, Doc Morton just wants you on some saline."

Johnny's tongue ran over his dry lips under the mask. "Ho…hot…thirsty." He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, raising his free hand to his chest. "Hurts…breathe."

"We'll get you to Rampart in no time, partner, and they'll be able to take care of that." Roy prayed that he was telling the truth. He looked up to see Eddie approaching with several blanket packs. "Let's sit you up a little and see if that helps."

Matt stepped over to Johnny's other side and helped Roy to lift him up, as Eddie slipped the blanket packs under him. After easing him back down, Matt stood and surveyed the scene. "Where's the damn ambulance?" he snarled.

"Take it easy, Matt. They've been pretty busy tonight too," Eddie soothed.

Sitting up slightly gave Johnny a clear view of the conflagration across the street. The house was wreathed in flames, but was still stubbornly refusing to fall. Johnny's eyes widened and his already quick respiration began to get faster, until each breath became an agonized pant. "Won't…let …go…" came out in little puffs of air. "Wants…me…"

"Johnny! Calm down!" Roy grasped Johnny's shoulders, trying to calm him, while Eddie grabbed the datascope and prepared to connect him to the heart monitor.

Sudden shouts from across the street barely registered in the minds of the three concerned paramedics. The back of the house slowly collapsed in on itself with a roar and a belch of flame.

Johnny hunched forward and his chest heaved under an onslaught of painful coughs. He hit Eddie's hands away and began to fight against Roy's hold as he pushed with his legs to propel himself backwards. "Let…me…go…" he gasped, his wide eyes fixed on the heavy window frame that could barely be seen in the middle of the undulating orange wall across the street.

Roy went cold when he saw the unadulterated fear on his partner's face. With strength that should have been impossible for the ill man, Johnny managed to heave himself backwards away from Roy, sending the blanket packs behind him flying, and toppling his friend off balance.

Matt dropped to his knees in back of Johnny, directly in the path of his scrambling escape. Johnny's back collided solidly with Matt's chest, and Matt wrapped his large arms around the slighter man. "It's okay buddy, just take it easy," he crooned soothingly into the struggling man's ear.

On shaky legs, Roy moved to kneel next to them. Johnny's movements had weakened, but he still fought against Matt's hold, his limbs trembling with the effort. Johnny's blankly staring eyes shook him, and Roy slowly turned his head to follow the fixed gaze.

Across the street, the front of the house stood engulfed in flames that crackled and roared as they reached skyward, undaunted by the deluge of water being poured onto them.

Harsh gasps for air brought Roy's attention back to the struggle in front of him. Matt looked at Roy with frightened eyes. "He pulled his IV…it must be the fever…" His voice caught and he cleared his throat, continuing in a whisper. "I've never seen him like this. He's so scared, Roy!" Matt tore his gaze from Roy and his eyes narrowed as he looked across the street. "It's the damn house," he muttered. "I swear I feel it too."

Roy looked at Matt's expression. It alternated between anger and fear. A tingle worked its way over Roy's scalp but he shook his head in denial. I don't feel anything. It's just a house, right?

Eddie stopped with the biophone lifted partway to his face and looked at them curiously. "The way he's acting…is it just the fever or is there something I should know about? Something I should tell Rampart?"

Once again Roy met Matt's eyes, and the two of them shook their heads in unison. "It's the fever," Roy answered quietly. "There's nothing else to tell." He shifted his position so that his back was to the burning structure and he could no longer see it in his peripheral vision. Funny, I should feel some heat from the fire, but it just feels cold.

Johnny's head thrashed back and forth, making it difficult for Roy's trembling hands to fit the oxygen mask back in place. They would have to calm him down before they attempted to reinsert the IV. Roy's stomach lurched at the thought of having to use restraints to keep him still during transport. Johnny would hate that.

The Santa Ana's swirled around them as Roy poured water onto a gauze pad and wiped it slowly against Johnny's forehead, pushing the sweat soaked hair out of the way. Matt continued to murmur softly into Johnny's ear, and his frantic movements began to slowly diminish.

"You're doing good partner. That's it, just relax." Roy said as his partner's labored breathing began to steady and his eyelids drooped. Matt relaxed his grip as Johnny leaned tiredly back against him.

Neither was prepared when Johnny's eyes flew open again and fixed on the fire as he began to gasp softly. The leaping flames were reflected in his glassy eyes and his expression shifted from fear, to yearning, to a deep sadness. Roy shuddered as he watched. He wasn't sure if the chill he felt came from inside himself, or from the air surrounding them.

Matt's arms trembled as they tightened around Gage again, and his face showed panic. He leaned forward and began to whisper into Johnny's ear. "Stay with…fight…almost gone…don't listen…" Roy couldn't make any sense of the occasional words he heard Matt's soothing voice mutter.

The heartrending scream of collapsing wood announced the death of the house as the remaining structure collapsed amid a shower of glowing embers. The embers tried to escape into the sky, but they were brought down to earth by the sprays of water that blanketed them. The house was gone, replaced by a haphazard pile of burning lumber.

Roy heard Matt gasp when Johnny sagged limply in his arms. The sight hit Roy like a physical blow. No. He couldn't understand what he was seeing when Matt reached out and held Eddie's arm as he was about to reach for the defibrillator. "Don't give up!" Roy meant it to come out as a shout, but it was barely a whisper.

"Matt, I just want to check his—" Eddie's protests were cut off by Matt's calm words. His eyes were drawn to Johnny's chest when the words finally registered.

"It's okay. He's breathing okay." He moved back and gently laid the still man down. "Let's get that IV restarted," Matt said as he reached for the stethoscope.

Edging forward, Roy grasped Johnny's wrist while Eddie worked on the IV in the other arm. The rapid pulse under his fingers seemed to be slowing while he counted it. Brown eyes blinked open and fixed on him. Roy leaned forward with a worried smile. "How you doin' there, Junior?"

"mmm' okay…not as hot," Johnny slurred tiredly. "Jus' tired. Damn flu."

"How's your chest? Still hurt to breathe?" Roy laid Johnny's wrist down and placed the back of his hand against Gage's forehead.

"Jus' a little…tight. It's better," Johnny sighed as his eyes drifted shut.

It might have been wishful thinking, but Roy thought Johnny's face felt a little cooler. He started to chuckle when Johnny began to half-heartedly swat at his hand. The chuckle broke off quickly when it threatened to turn into a much less dignified display of the relief flooding through him. He blinked back the sudden tears in his eyes, shocked to realize just how much the whole strange situation had terrified him. Looking up, he watched silently as Matt surreptitiously moved the fingertips of his right hand from his forehead to his chest, and then from one shoulder to the other. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had found the whole experience unnerving.

Amen, Matt.


The brightly lit and bustling halls of Rampart felt incredibly welcoming and normal after the tension laced fire scene. Matt swirled the coffee in the bottom of his cup and focused on Roy's question. "Huh? Oh, one of the houses across the ravine saw the flames and called it in. That's why it took us a while to get there. The way the street and houses are laid out, none of Johnny's neighbors could see the fire, and we couldn't find it until it got bigger. Roy, I just about had a heart attack when we pulled up. And then when we saw you at that window…" Matt clenched his jaw and looked at the table top.

"Things weren't a lot calmer on my side of the window," Roy chuckled. He sobered when he continued. "If you hadn't gotten there when you did, I don't think things would have turned out very well." They were both lost in thought for a moment, Roy finally breaking the silence by clearing his throat. "Matt, what did you say to Johnny when you were whispering to him?"

Matt looked silently at him and Roy quickly held his hands up blushing. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business, it's between you and Johnny."

"No, it's not that, it's just…well, I don't want you to think I'm nuts. Some superstitious looney." Matt shifted in his seat and drummed his fingers against the table a couple of times. He looked at Roy and sighed at the curious gaze that was fixed on him. "Something just didn't feel right, and Johnny seemed so afraid of the house…it was like something was pulling at him, trying to take him from us. I just told him to fight it, that he was stronger and not to give in to it." He broke off with a wave of his hand. "It seems kind of stupid now, here." He swept his arm around, indicating the brightly lit room.

"Did you believe it?"

Matt grinned. "I'm half Sicilian, Roy. My family believes a lot of crazy things. Did you ever hear about the malocchio?"

Roy shook his head.

"The Italian evil eye. That's a big one in my family. My Aunt Sophie is always running around making hand gestures and giving out 'horns' to protect against it." Matt held up his hand, index finger and pinkie extended. "And remember, I'm Catholic. Did you know the church still has a ritual for exorcisms?" He chuckled as he shrugged his shoulders. "But what I believed out there tonight isn't important. What Johnny believed is. I just did what I thought was right, said things I thought he needed to hear." Matt wondered if Roy even noticed that his question had been sidestepped. He honestly didn't know what he believed had happened. All he knew was that he finally felt like he could breathe easily again.


Mike Morton tapped the x-rays to make his point. "I'm not saying you didn't hear anything in his lungs. I'm just saying the x-rays don't show anything. You know acute bronchitis can sound just like pneumonia sometimes."

"But what about the fever?" Matt continued to argue. "High fevers aren't normal with bronchitis."

"And he doesn't have a high fever now. It's just a little over 101. Are you sure it was that high on the scene?" Morton looked at Roy and Matt skeptically.

"Doc…" Matt started to growl.

Roy grinned and laid his hand on Matt's arm. "All three of us couldn't have been that far off, Doc," he answered reasonably.

"Well then, I don't know what to tell you. Look, it might have had to do with the heat of the fire and the slight dehydration he was suffering from. Or it might have been from the flu, since that's what started the whole thing. We'll keep an eye on him tonight just to be sure there's nothing else going on. But if he doesn't spike another fever, and everything else holds steady, then I don't see why he can't go home tomorrow. It's just the end of the flu with a touch of bronchitis." Mike turned to the amused figure on the treatment table who had been busy observing the debate. "You have anything to add Gage?" he asked in an annoyed tone.

Johnny spread his hand over his chest and grinned. "I'm not the one arguing with you. I don't even remember what happened," he said in a raspy voice. "For once I agree with you. I'm fine."

Morton's expression softened when he took in the pale face and deep set eyes. "Well, I don't know if I'd go so far as saying you're fine. But I think you will be once you get some bedrest. The meds should keep your cough under control for a while so you can get some sleep." He turned to Matt, and the annoyance sparked again as he opened the treatment room door. "Don't you have some work you should be doing? I want Gage to rest as soon as we get him settled in a room."

Roy almost laughed at the look of pure innocence on Matt's face.

"I can't help it if things slowed down. I'll head back to the station as soon as he's moved upstairs, if I don't get a run before that," Matt shrugged.

Mike just scowled as he continued out of the door.

"You really don't remember anything, Johnny?" Roy asked, carefully watching his partner's face.

A shadow passed briefly over Johnny's face and he rubbed his eyes. "I'm a little hazy about the last day and a half. And I'm just getting some flashes about the fire itself. The things I remember from then…the hallucinations from the fever, nightmares, whatever they were…it was some pretty wild stuff." Johnny shivered and stared blankly across the room. "I don't think I want to remember any more of it," he finished quietly. "The house is gone now. It is gone, right? I didn't imagine that part did I?" The forced smile on his face couldn't completely hide the trace of panic behind the question.

"It's gone, hotshot. You got just about all your stuff out, nobody was hurt…" Matt started.

Roy picked up the conversation. "…and I talked to Mitch and he didn't expect his cousin to be too broken up about it. With all that old wiring and the wood construction, he had it insured to the hilt. Mitch actually said his cousin would probably be thrilled the house was destroyed."

"He's not the only one," Matt muttered. "They brought it under control before it could spread into the ravine, but the house was a complete loss. Crews are out there overhauling now, but they're just pulling apart piles of rubble to make sure they get all the hot spots. There's nothing left. It's over."

"I guess you've got a roommate for a little while," Johnny grinned tiredly at Matt. His expression turned thoughtful. "I'll call the realtor in a couple of days and see if there's been any movement on that little ranch…"

Roy just grinned and shook his head while Matt put his hands over his face and stifled a groan.


The butt of the ladder was seated securely in a clear area in the midst of the rubble that had fallen into the basement. Since there was no structure over the basement, it more closely resembled a swimming pool full of trash, than anything else. The firefighter stepped onto the ladder and easily climbed down before motioning for the pike pole to be handed down. He stepped aside to make room for the additional crew members who joined him with their tools.

"All right, the last thing we need are any rekindles. Since the last crew was kind enough to clear this area for us before they went to rehab, I think it's only fair that we kick some butt down here and get it ready for the crew after us."

The men groaned as they began to pull apart the heavy wet timbers in front of them, the water wicking up into their already cumbersome bunker pants and soaking into their gloves.

"C'mon girls," yelled the figure standing above them at the edge of the basement with a charged hose line, ready to handle any flare-ups. "The sooner this is done, the sooner we're out of here."

"And into the shower. I'd kill for a nice cool shower." The dark-haired firefighter leaned his head to the side to wipe the sweat dripping from under his helmet onto the shoulder of his turnout coat.

"Yeah Grady, we'd kill to get you into a shower, too," one of the others laughed, sniffing loudly.

"You're not smelling like roses yourself, Hanes," Grady grunted as he dug the shovel into the pile in front of him and lifted loose rubble aside. He froze in place and lifted his hand to quiet the wisecracks that continued around him. "Did anybody else hear that?"

"Hear what?" Nervous eyes scanned the piles near them, but none were in a position to endanger the crew.

Grady lowered his hand and shook his head. "Nothing. Must have just been the wind." He ignored the good-natured barbs that flew his way as he dug the shovel in again. No way I can tell these guys I thought I heard music. Mozart to be exact.



Authors Note: Many of the scary incidents included, happened to either myself, or people I know. Thank you for all the helpful suggestions, Pat! Pard, didn't you wonder where this story disappeared to after you read the beginning?