Twenty-three year old Johnny Gage whistled to himself as he headed for his locker in the Lockeroom to change into his uniform.

The young Paramedic opened his locker, only to be met by a spray of water over his face and once dry clothed.

"KELLY!" He bellowed in annoyance, knowing only too well that the 'Phantom' had gotten into his locker. He pulled out his uniform shirt, taking his brown short sleeved shirt off and changing into it.

Just as he was buttoning his shirt, Chet Kelly, the culprit of the water bomb in John's locker walked in, looking only too innocent.

"Something wrong, Gage?" He asked, failing to hide the snicker that clearly showed he was guilty.

John's hair was plastered to his forehead, and water was dripping down his chin. He glared at Chet. "It's not funny, Kelly," he growled.

Chet smirked. "I just couldn't help it. I haven't played any tricks on my Pigeon for at least a week, and well...when I got here first. I guess you can figure out the rest."

Johnny rolled his eyes, greatly resisting the childish urge he felt to stick his tongue out at his crew mate.

Chet grinned triumphantly.

Roy DeSoto, John's partner and best friend walked in. One quick quick glance at Johnny told him Chet had set one of his famous water bombs in John's locker. He grinned. "Phantom get in your locker, Johnny?" He asked, trying to suppress a laugh at the sight of his dripping wet friend.

"You too, Roy?" John growled, turning toward the sink. Grabbing a towel, he dried his face off and stomped out of the lockeroom in annoyance.

In the break room, Marco Lopez and Mike Stoker sat, talking and drinking coffee.

"Hey, guys," Johnny said, grinning and slapping Mike lightly on the shoulder. "'Mornin', mornin', mornin'."

Mike smiled back. "Hey, John."

Marco was clearly trying to hide a laugh as he returned the, "hey, Johnny."

Marco occasionally teased Johnny along with Chet, but Mike usually never had anything to do with the pranks, and he usually didn't laugh like everyone else if he could tell John wasn't in the mood for their pranks.

John rolled his eyes as he saw Marco's face. Grabbing two cups, he poured coffee into both. He sat down at the table, setting one of the cups beside him for Roy.

Captain Stanley walked in. "Mornin', guys," he said, pouring himself his own cup of coffee.

"Mornin', Cap," all three said in unison.

Roy and Chet walked in.

Roy sat down beside Johnny, while Chet took a seat beside Marco.

They had all only just finished their coffee when they heard the SCU Tones.

"Squad 51, man down. 119 Logan Drive. 1-1-9, Logan Drive. Cross street Philip. Time out: 8:05."

Johnny and Roy jumped up and dashed for the squad. Johnny strapped on his helmet, while Chet said into the Mic, "Squad 51, KMG-365." He wrote down the address, handing it to Roy.

Roy sped out onto the highway, with John giving him directions.

John jumped out of the Squad, running toward the accident and carrying his equipment. Roy came behind with the Biophone. The place was practically deserted. No cars were driving by, and there were very few houses.

"Roy, look at this," John sat, kneeling beside the man. "Looks like a knife stab. What do you think?"

Roy nodded in agreement. "And you notice how there's no one around here? Who called us?" He looked confused as he set to work, putting pressure on the wound. The wound was about two inches deep, and not in a good place. If they didn't act fast, thereof paramedics would lose him.. John had just finished talking to Rampart General over the Biophone. When he felt a hand close around his arm, and other close over his mouth, dragging him quickly but silently backward.

John struggled violently, thrashing about, but the man's grip around his arms was vice-like and merciless. All it took was one of his huge hands to easily hold both of John's behind his back.

"John, I'm going to a need a..." Roy started turned around, only to see a huge man, over six feet tall, dragging his partner backwards. His eyes widened in horror.

He started to dash toward them, when the man took his hand from off of John's mouth, drawing a long hunting knife, and pressing it mercilessly against Johnny's throat.

Roy froze in his tracks.

"Don't try anything," the man said ominously, both to Roy and John, pressing his knife even hard against John's throat. A small drop of blood formed beneath the knife, trickling down under John's blue uniform shirt.

John gulped.

"Look, maybe we can talk this out?" Roy asked, trying to remain calm.

"That was my plan," the man said.

Roy didn't like the way the man said that.

"I'm willing to make a deal with you."

"What is it?" Roy asked.

Johnny's brown eyes were wide with fear.

Roy had been right. He had no idea where he'd get all that. He needed to call the police, but he had no idea how the man would react to that, and he had to get back to his victim. Suddenly it dawned on Roy. The man had what looked like a stab wound. The man holding John captive had a knife.

Roy nodded. "Alright, just stay there, okay? I have to get back to my patient."

"NO!" The man with the knife said, pressing the blade harder against John's throat. John winced in pain.

"What?" Roy asked, afraid for his partner's life, and having no idea what he'd done wrong.

"Leave him be. You touch him, I'll kill your friend."

"I'm...I'm just trying to help him. He's been hurt badly. If I don't, he'll die."

"Well if you do, he'll die," he said, referring to John. "I stabbed him. He needed to die. He shot my friend."

Roy didn't know what to do. He'd have to choose between his partner's life, or his victim's.

"Roy...don't worry about me," John said. "Take care of your patient."

Roy ignored John. "Is...your friend alright?" Roy asked. "If you let me stay with my patient until an ambulance arrives, I'll help him." Roy heard the sirens in the distance.

"Who is that?!" The man shrieked. "Did you call the police?!"

"Calm down," Roy said. "It's just an ambulance. They're gonna take my patient to the hospital, and then I can help your friend. Now what's your name?"

This seemed to please the man. "George," he said.

John seized the opportunity to wrestle the knife out of his captor's hand while he was distracted talking to Roy. But George's hold on his knife was anything but relaxed.

Roy jumped onto the man, only to be knocked off by George, who was extremely strong. John had both hands around George's wrist, trying to wrestle the knife out. But George had another knife. While Roy was climbing to his feet, he didn't see George pulling it out.

The next thing Roy knew, was that he now had a knife in his left hand, and it was plummeting toward Johnny. Roy began to rush back, but too late. John gasped in pain as the knife went deep into his abdomen. When George pulled his hand back, there was a deep stab in John's abdomen. The man let go of John, who collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Johnny!" Roy gasped in utter horror, running to his partners side.

The ambulance pulled to a stop at the curb. What met their eyes shocked them. They lifted the injured man onto the stretcher.

Roy, who was kneeling beside his partner, yelled for them to take the man to Rampart. He couldn't come at the moment. The ambulance attendants looked confused, but the lifted the man onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, and roared off for Rampart.

Roy glared angrily at George. Roy quickly tore open John's blue uniform shirt, not even caring to take the time to unbotton it. Buttons flew off.

Roy ripped John's once white t-shirt down the middle, now stained with dirt a sickly dark reddish brown colour. Roy put John's uniform shirt over the knife wound, pressing down on it with both hands.

Johnny's face was a deathly white. Roy removed one of his hands from the wound to take John's vitals and contact Rampart.

Grabbing the Biophone, had put Rampart on the line.

"Rampart General, this is Squad 51. Do you read me?"

"I read you loud and clear, 51. Go ahead," the voice of Doctor Brackett came through clearly.

"Rampart, we have a victim of a stabbing wound. Rampart, victim is John Gage."

Doctor Brackett exchanged a worried glance with Dixie McCall, who sat in her usual place at the reception desk. Dixie's blue eyes widened in horror for the young Paramedic's safety.

As much as he wanted to ask what had happened, Brackett refrained.

"10-4 51. What are his vitals?"

"Vitals are: BP: 100/65. Pulse: 80. Respirations 18, rapid and shallow, pupils equal and responsive.
Wound is in the lower left quadrant of the abdomen." Roy tried to assume a professional air as he went about his work, but his hands and voice were clearly shaking.

"10-4 51. Start him on 5mgs M.S. Start him on an IV with Ringers Lactate, TKO, and put him on six litres of O2.
Keep as much pressure as possible on the wound, and transport as soon as possible."

"Uh, that's negative, Rampart. Victim cannot be transported," Roy said nervously.

Brackett exchanged a curious glance with Dixie. "Could you repeat that, 51?" He asked.

"Victim cannot be transported, Rampart. He is being held hostage by a man with a knife...And a gun," Roy added, as he realized that George had pulled out a gun and had it pressed hard against John's left temple while crouching beside him.

Doctor Brackett had called out another Squad to help Roy take care of John, and informed the Police and the rest of Station 51. They were all on their way down, along with Doctor Brackett and Dixie.

Squad 49 arrived, and Paramedics Dan Walker and Joe Fields jumped out.

"Is he alright, Roy?" Joe asked, worriedly. Joe was about Johns age, and had known John since High school.

Roy shook his head. He started to say something, when the EKG Monitor changed its pattern. "He's in V-fib!" He cried. "Dan, get Rampart on the line. Joe, put pressure on the wound." Roy moved over to John's chest.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. Do you read?"

"I read you, 51. Go ahead," Doctor Joe Early said.

"Victim has gone into V-fib. Beginning CPR. We're sending you a strip."

It seemed like an eternity before Joe Early's voice came back through the line:

"51, defibrillate him, 400 watt seconds. Now."

Joe Fields stepped backwards to let Roy work, removing the oxygen mask from Johnny's face.

Roy grabbed the defibrillators. Dan put the gel on them.

Roy rubbed them together quickly, placing the paddles just above where he wanted them to land on John's upper body. George stepped back a bit, but he kept his gun trained at John's head.

"Clear!" He yelled, slamming the paddles downward. John's body bucked upward in response to the electricity coming in contact with his body.

"No change, 51," Joe Early said. "Zap him again."

"10-4 Rampart."

Roy brought the paddles down once more, and once more, John's body bucked upward.

"He's back, 51," Joe Early said, as the EKG showed his heart was once again beating normally.

Roy sat back in relief, taking the oxygen mask from Joe, and placing it back over John's face.

Just then, a black car pulled up to the curb, and Brackett and Dixie jumped out.

"How is he?" Kelly asked, his brown eyes looking over John's still figure with worry.

The rest of the crew of Station 51 had arrived, and all were equally worried for their youngest crew mate and friend.

Dixie gasped as she saw her favourite Paramedic lying on the ground, blood coming from underneath the shirt that was over the wound, and a man at least six feet four inches holding a gun aimed at Johns head.

Brackett lifted the shirt, wincing slightly at the wound. Dixie gasped in horror.

Placing the bloodied shirt back in place, he took out his stethoscope, placing the ear pieces in his ears, and the bell over John's heart.

"His heartbeat is strong, and he lungs are clear," he informed everyone around."

Sirens sounded, and a two police cars pulled up. Officer Vince Howard stepped out of the first one.

"You called the cops?" George snarled, pressing the gun against the side of John's head.

"Calm down," Vince said, holding up his hands. "I just wanna talk. Now what's your name?"

While Vince went toward George, Officer Henry Drew snuck around one of the police cars. He pulled out his gun, and crouching down, he went around George, with a wide berth, not even noticed by him.

"Now what's your name?" He heard Vince ask.

Before George could reply, Henry had knocked the gun out of his hand. It took four more police to tackle him and hold him down, and two more to get the handcuffs around his wrist. Doctor Brackett had already called out an ambulance.

George was taken away, screaming and kicking wildly, by Vince, and John was hauled into the ambulance. Roy climbed in with him.

They arrived at Rampart with no further incident, and John was wheeled on the gurney into exam room four, by Brackett's orders.

John was lifted from the gurney to the exam table, and Dixie switched oxygen tank and heart monitor to the ones in the room. Then she peeled away the shirt, replacing it with gauze. Roy looked on in worry.

"John, can you hear me?" Brackett asked. No response. "John, can you hear me?" he repeated a little louder, but with the same response. "John, if you hear me, lift your right index finger." Nothing.

Brackett gave Dixie a few orders, which she called in on the phone.

"Will he be alright, Doc?" Roy asked as they stepped out of the room and headed for the doctor's lounge.

"I don't know yet, Roy. He's still unconscious, but I think we'll be able to learn more when he is. Let's get some coffee, and when we're finished, we'll check on him again, alright?"

Roy nodded. "Doc...why'd he he go into V-fib? It doesn't make sense. I was applying pressure, and everything you said to do."

Kelly gave him a small smile. "From what I can tell, it was from blood loss and shock. It wasn't your fault. And you did very good in remaining calm the whole time, despite that you were working with your partner and best friend."

Roy smiled weakly as Kelly squeezed his shoulder. "Don worry, Roy. John is by far the most stubborn person I've ever know. He strong and tough. He'll be okay." Roy couldn't help but chuckle at this.

A while later, they all stepped into the treatment room. John's brown eyes were open, roaming about the room.

Roy grinned, noticing his partner was awake. But the smile faded when he realized how pain filled John's eyes were. "You alright, John? You've been through a lot," he said squeezing his hand gently.

John nodded, throwing Roy a small wan crooked grin. "It hurts," he managed to say weakly.

"I know, Johnny. I know," Roy said, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Dixie smiled at the affection Roy was unashamed to show toward his partner.

Sally Walters tapped on the door, opening it and walking in. "I have the x-rays, Doctor," she informed Kelly, handing them over and stepping out of the room.

Brackett slapped the photos onto the viewing light.

"Well, John," he said, grinning knowingly, "you haven't broken a bone in your body. And," he added to Roy, "no internal bleeding." Roy let out a sigh of relief.

"We'll just need some sutures to close the wound, and a blood transfusion to take up for the blood he's lost, and a forty-eight hour stay in the hospital, and he should be fine."

"Forty-eight hours?" Johnny complained.

"That's right, John. And no going back to work until the day after you're released.

"But, Doc," John began to protest in a weak voice.

"No arguing, John Gage," Kelly said.

Brackett had finished stitching up John's knife wound, and John was awake.

"Doc..." Johnny started, but Brackett interrupted, knowing what was about be asked of him. "No, John," he said, dead set against Johnny getting advantage of his weaker spot for the young Paramedic. "Stop while you're still ahead, young man. You're not going home for forty-eight hours, and that's final. No more arguing. 10-4?"

John settled back against his pillow, up pout crossing his handsome face. "Fine," he muttered.

"Cheer up, handsome," Dixie teased, sweeping his hair out of his face.

He swatted her hands away, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Cut it out," he muttered, but he flashed Dixie a crooked grin, despite himself.

"Just think. You'll get to see me a lot."

John crossed his arms over his chest. "I see you a lot as it is, Dix," he muttered.

They all chuckled.

*****Next day*****

"So Roy," John asked, "did our knife victim make it?"

Roy nodded. "Yep. He wasn't in nearly as bad condition as you were. And we got George's friend, too. Turns out George's friend had attempted to stab the man, so he shot shot the friend. And well, George stabbed him, and then afraid he'd killed him, he called us. George is in custody of the police, but he's still in the hospital."

John sat back against his pillow, satisfied that Roy hadn't left any of the story out.

"You gonna stay with us until you're released to duty again?" Roy asked, knowing Johnny had a big appetite, no matter how skinny he was, and had a passion for Roy's wife Joanne's cooking.

"Are you kidding me?" He said, grinning. "I wouldn't miss Joanne's cooking for the world."

THE END