Rescue Man (Emergency! fanfic)

DISCLAIMER: "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. and Universal Studios. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction. This story is only written for entertainment. No financial gain is being realized from it. The story, itself, is the property of the author.

This story is a missing scene from "The Wedsworth Townsend Act" when Tony and Johnny left Rampart after the electrocution victim died, and returned to L.A. County Fire Station 10. It is about how Johnny Gage made the decision to sign up for Paramedic training.

Tony Freeman backed the bright fire engine red, 1969 Dodge 300 1-ton engine rescue squad into Station 10's apparatus bay. Before he could even get the truck in park his abnormally silent partner, John Gage jumped from the vehicle slamming the door with enough force to rock it and purposefully strode away.

"Oh Johnny Boy you have to stop letting these rescues get to you. You can't save them all partner," Tony spoke to the empty cab. He lingered in the truck gripping the steering wheel, the tension from losing their victim keeping both men in knots. Tony made himself relax his tight grip, wincing as the blood rushed back into his fingertips.

John Gage didn't stop to speak to any of his shift mates.

Seeing the stone cold expression on his face they moved aside giving him a clear path.

He didn't even stop to take off his turnout coat.

He stormed straight through the apparatus bay and out onto the back lot. The only thing he did do was grab the station's basketball on his way out.

He pushed the back door open letting it bang shut. As soon as he reached the back lot he started dribbling. The ball came bounding back from his forceful thrusts slamming back against his hands leaving them stinging from the impact. The burning sensation satisfied him. He dribbled harder.

'Why? Why do I even want to keep being a rescue man? I couldn't even help that guy. All I did was save a corpse,' he thought to himself as he dribbled the ball harder and faster. 'Administer oxygen, do a few chest compressions. Hell a boy scout can do what I do.' He stopped dribbling.

His emotions in a blur he whirled around and hurled the ball in a straight arc. Immediately in motion, running to meet the ball as it careened off the backboard toward him and grabbing the ball in mid flight, he went in for a layup, his legs forcefully pushing against the ground. Swish, the ball slipped through the net and bounced across the lot.

He eyed the basketball goal, the ring with the net swaying in the light breeze.

The simplicity, of the net's movement, pissing him off even more.

Johnny ripped off his turnout coat and threw it across the front of his old beat up car, the buckles clanging against the hood. He planted the palms of his hands on either side of the hood feeling the heat scalding his palms, and stood taking deep calming breaths.

He turned when he heard the ball bounce against the asphalt.

"That backboard do something to piss you off Boot?"

"I'm not a boot Scotty. I haven't been a boot for years," Johnny slowly walked over toward one of the station's engineers Dale Scott. "Besides, that backboard was just there waiting to be used." He waved his hand at the basketball goal.

"Yeah Johnny Boy, I guess you're right. So anyway what's got you all bent outta shape?" Scotty could see the tension in his friend's face, the sadness shown in his expressive brown eyes, and the slight slump to his stance.