A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. No likee no readee. Not for profit.

So I was thinking the other day... it happens... and I asked myself 'Why is it they (TPTB) provided us with insight on Johnny's career before the program but not Roy's?' And, being a little unhinged at times, I answered myself 'That's a durn good question. Why don't you do that?' And a oneshot was born... It's short but leaves the floor open for more ideas in the future. Oh - the dialogue at the end is taken from the pilot "The Wedsworth-Townsend Act" that aired on January 15, 1972. No infringement intended. They did it better than I could.

Title chosen to pair this fic with my previous 'Elegy for a Partnership'. Like bookends.

Firefighter Roy DeSoto leaned back in his seat, absently nibbling on the cap of his pen as he studied the papers in front of him. Finally he shook his head, sighed and got to his feet. Gathering up his materials, Roy stuffed them into their folder and tucked them under his arm before shoving his hands in his pockets and heading out the door.

"DeSoto! Hey, Roy! Wait up!"

Roy turned and slowed his pace to let another fireman catch up. "Hey, Bill," he replied.

His companion matched his pose, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walked. "So what did you think of all that?" he asked. "Pretty heavy stuff, huh?"

"Yeah." Roy continued a few more paces before he asked "You gonna do it?"

"Me?" Bill countered, placing a hand over his chest. "I don't think so, man. Extra work, no pay raise and no chance at promotion? For what? Something that probably won't ever happen anyway?"

Roy's step faltered. "You really believe that?"

"What, that it won't happen?" Bill nodded. "No way they're gonna let firemen play doctors in the field, Roy."

"Maybe..." Roy let his thoughts wander as they pushed through the heavy double doors and out into the bright California afternoon.

Bill shook his head. "No maybe about it, my friend." He clapped Roy on the shoulder. "Besides... I just got married. How do you think Mary would feel if she found out I wasn't ever gonna get a promotion?" Roy opened his mouth to reply but Bill cut him off. "Speaking of Mary - gotta run! See you around!" He jogged down the steps to where a pretty blonde waited next to a baby blue convertible. He kissed her cheek, opened the car door for her and then sketched a wave at Roy before jogging around to the other side of the car and jumping in.

Roy lifted his hand to wave back but the car was already speeding away. He let his hand drop, pulled the folder from under his arm and stared at it for a long moment. Finally he sighed and trotted down the remaining steps to head for his own vehicle.

The assembled group of men watched carefully as their instructor held up a piece of slender tubing. "This is an intravenous - or IV - line," Dr. Parsons explained. "This bit at the end..." He pointed. "...Is called a cannula. Also commonly called a needle. Used to cause irrational bouts of anxiety." The group laughed. "And this other part," he went on, holding up the other end of the tubing. "Is called a bag spike. Pretty self-explanatory. Any questions so far?"

A few hands went up. Roy only half paid attention as Dr. Parsons called on each one in turn, his mind wandering to the conversation he had with his wife Joanne just the night before.

"Are you really that unsure about it, Roy?" Joanne had asked. "I thought you said it was going to be an important job?"

"It will be," Roy agreed. "When they pass the bill."

"Then what's the problem?"

Roy sighed. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for it, Jo," he replied. "Not to mention the fact that paramedics don't get promotions. That means less money."

Joanne slid her arms around his waist. "Maybe that's the way it is now," she said soothingly. "But once the program's gotten off the ground and had the bugs worked out of it, that might change." She tilted her head up for a quick kiss. "And I, for one, have total faith that you are cut out for this, Mr. DeSoto..."

"...Mr. DeSoto?" Something in the doctor's tone said it wasn't the first time he'd called his name.

Roy flushed with embarrassment at being caught daydreaming. "Uh... Sorry Doctor."

Nodding once, Dr. Parsons said "We've all been guilty of disassociative cognition at one point in time or another, Mr. DeSoto. The trick is not to let it get in the way of the task at hand." He held up the cannula. "Can you explain to the class how one can tell if, when inserting an IV, they've actually stuck a vein?"

"Um..." Roy thought quickly. "Sudden lack of resistance and blood flash?"

Dr. Parsons smiled and his eyes twinkled with merriment. "Congratulations, Mr. DeSoto," he replied. "On getting the correct answer and the upper hand on disassociative cognition." Roy blushed again and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And on that note, gentlemen, we shall break for lunch."

As the group got to their feet and made for the door, Dr. Parsons watched Roy gather his texts. "I see you've been studying," he commented.

"Uh, yeah. A bit," Roy replied, glancing at the retreating backs of his classmates. He decided to plunge in. "Doctor... Do you really think the paramedic program will get past all the bureaucratic red tape and become what it's intended to be?"

Dr. Parsons seemed to think over his question. "I think it has to, Roy," he said finally, his tone somber. "There are simply too many people needing help from too few doctors for it not to be."

"And the whole thing about no promotions..." Roy persisted.

"The average retirement age of a fireman is what? Fifty? Fifty-five?" the doctor asked. Roy nodded. "The physical and emotional commitment needed from a paramedic will be intense, Roy," he went on. "I'm not going to lie to you - it will be gruelling work. Harder than your current duties, if you can believe it. Not only will you be a fireman and a rescue man, you'll also be called upon for your medical expertise." He slid his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and rocked back on his heels. "I highly doubt the average paramedic will want to continue in the field after thirty-five or so. After that, taking a promotion in the fire service is probably the next logical step."

Roy nodded again, slowly this time. "Right," he replied, his voice quiet.

Dr. Parsons considered him for a moment. "I suspect that isn't really your concern, is it Roy?" he asked gently.

"Yeah..." Roy paused and then shook his head. "Not totally, no," he confessed.

"Wondering if you'll be able to hack it?"

Roy blinked at the man's perceptiveness. "Uh... Something like that."

Laying a hand on Roy's arm, Dr. Parsons said "There will be times when you're sure you can't, Roy. Being a paramedic isn't going to be easy - there's going to be a lot of resistance to the program at first, and a lot of rough times when you're dealing with a patient, believe me. For what it's worth, in the short time that I've known you I've come to believe that you have an innate ability for this work and that you'll find it very... fulfilling."

"I'm not a doctor," Roy began in mild protest.

"And you don't need to be," the older man said, giving Roy's arm a squeeze before letting his hand drop. "You only have to be his eyes, his ears and his hands. Everything else will be done at the hospital." Roy mulled over the doctor's words. Dr. Parsons nodded toward the door. "There's no point doing heavy thinking on an empty stomach," he said. "Go on... Get some lunch."

Roy's head came up at his command and smiled. "Thanks, Doc," he said, slipping easily into the more familiar form of address. "I appreciate the advice." He turned and strode from the room.

The doctor watched him go, chuckling softly. "You'll be hooked before you know it, Mr. DeSoto," he muttered to himself. "The program depends on men like you."

Roy stood very still as the director of the paramedic program pinned a badge to his shirt. When he was through, the man placed a small button pin in his hand. "Wear it proudly, DeSoto," he intoned.

"Thank you sir," Roy replied with a bob of his head and a small smile. "I will."

The director moved down the line, pinning badges and handing out buttons to the remaining graduates. When he was through, he stepped back. "Congratulations, gentlemen," he said. "You are the first graduating class of the Los Angeles County fire department paramedics." Roy clapped dutifully with his classmates, wondering what came next. The answer wasn't long in coming.

"For now, you are not authorized to operate in a paramedical capacity," the director went on. "But that doesn't mean we won't be training more paramedics in the weeks to come. When bill PM11307 is approved by state legislature, we plan to have enough of you ready to go that Los Angeles won't suffer for lack of adequate emergency care." He moved to the table that had held their pins and badges and picked up a sheet of paper. "This memo has been distributed by your headquarters to all fire stations in LA County," he announced. "The captains of those stations have been requested to urge their rescue personnel to apply to the paramedic program for further training. You men," he added with a flourish. "Will be the program's liaison officers to the fire department."

Roy glanced at the men standing to either side of him and then down the line. Everyone seemed as surprised as he felt. He put up his hand.

"Yes, DeSoto?"

"Uh... I was wondering..." Roy began hesitantly. "Are we expected to go to each station? Or how will this work?"

The director nodded with satisfaction. "Glad to see your eagerness to start, DeSoto," he replied.

Roy shook his head. "N-no, I wasn't-"

"LA County headquarters has set aside an office," the director pushed on, ignoring Roy's protest. "For the next month, each of you will take turns manning that office, fielding questions and signing up potential recruits. This duty will, of course, fall on your scheduled days off so as not to interfere with your regular duties."

There was a general murmur of dissent throughout the line. Roy bit back his own muffled groan at the announcement.

The director turned to Dr. Parsons and nodded. Stepping forward, the doctor announced. "The paramedic courses will be held at Rampart General as well as Harbor General. They have graciously agreed to provide training space and manpower for the upcoming classes and I will be joining my esteemed colleagues there in a teaching capacity. All the details will be supplied to you before you take your turn as liaison officer. Any questions?"

The six men shook their heads, almost in unison. Rubbing his hands together, the director said "Well then that's all, gentlemen. Coffee and refreshments will be waiting for you in the nurses' lounge. And once again - Congratulations!" They all expressed their thanks as they left the room one by one. Not wanting to be singled out for anything else, Roy made sure he was near the front of the line as they filed out.

Roy sighed as he stared out the window of the small room reserved for the recruiting program. The schedule drawn up by the director had somehow weighed heavily in Roy's favor and he was sure he'd spent more time in the ten-by-twelve space than any of his colleagues. Not that he really minded, of course, but it just seemed like a waste of time. No matter how many firefighters came through the door - and there hadn't been many - it felt as though his words fell on deaf ears. Oh, he'd handed out lots of application forms but the majority of potential recruits had been non-committal at best.

In the beginning Roy had armed himself with as much material and information as he could, preparatory to being questioned about the program and what it entailed. It didn't take long, however, to realize that most of the men coming into the office fell within two major groups: those who wanted to satisfy their curiosity and those who wanted to try something different - no matter what it was. The significance of the program was lost on them.

At least today would be the last day he'd have to sit through it. The sign he'd put up on the outside of the door this morning warned today was the final day for fielding questions about the paramedic program. After three o'clock it would no longer be his headache.

Roy turned as the door opened suddenly and a dark-haired man leaned in, one hand on the doorknob. "Uh, hi," he said. " 'Paramedic questions answered'?"

"Come on in," Roy invited with a smile. He lowered himself into the chair placed on his side of the table and laced his fingers together on the tabletop.

The young man nodded, returning the smile. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and offered Roy a sheet of paper before turning the chair in front of him out a little and dropping into the seat. He crossed one leg casually at the knee and rested his elbow on the table, seemingly waiting for something.

Roy scanned the page. It was the application form for the paramedic program, listing the man's name as 'John R. Gage' and his current assignment as the rescue unit out of station 10. Roy kept his features carefully neutral as he skimmed through the information provided but couldn't help being impressed. A lot of experience for someone his age, Roy thought. It wasn't until he reached the bottom that he allowed a small frown. "This application isn't signed," he said, holding the page out to the other man.

"I wanted to talk to you first," Gage answered firmly.

"Sure," Roy replied. "What d'you wanna know?"

Keeping his eyes on the tabletop, the young man asked "You went through that first class of special medical training, right?"

"Right."

"If you rolled on a rescue call now - today," Gage went on, splaying his fingertips on the table. "Could you use that training to treat a victim on the scene?"

Feeling a little pleased at the young man's interest Roy replied "No."

Gage took a breath. "Then why should I - or anybody else - spend twelve weeks or twelve minutes learning to do what we can't do?"

"Because you said today," Roy answered with a smile, jabbing with his finger for emphasis. "There's a bill before the state legislature right now - assembly bill PM11307 - which will permit qualified fire department personnel to administer medical assistance in the field."

Gage finally looked at him. "If it's passed."

"Mm." Roy got to his feet. "You asked a few questions before you came in here, didn't you?" he asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning in.

"I wanna find out if it's a job or just a title," the young man replied.

"It's a job alright," Roy said with conviction, straightening. "It's gonna be the most important advance in emergency medicine in the last fifty years." He hitched one hip on the edge of the wood.

"Going to be. Well maybe you just better hang onto that application till it is," Gage drawled.

Roy glanced down at the page. "That'll be too late," he said. "We're already late. Gage - there are over six and a half million people in Los Angeles county right now and not nearly enough doctors to handle them even under normal conditions. When you get into emergency situations - freeway accidents, drownings, heart attacks... a thousand others - people are dying at the scene." Gage looked away, a frown marring his face. Roy continued intensely "People who could stay alive if there were somebody on the spot who knew what to do!"

"But they won't let you function," Gage protested.

"They will," Roy insisted. "They'll have to." Roy got up and moved back to his chair. "Look - if that bill passes the legislature today, do you know how many people we'd have ready for the job?" Gage shook his head. "Just me." Smiling grimly, Roy went on "And five other guys who took the training course. Six men for six and a half million people." Gage looked up sharply. "No, we can't wait for the go-ahead and then train our people. If there's one chance in a million that bill will pass, we have to be ready."

Gage glanced at the application form, looked at Roy and asked "Use your pen?"

Roy sat back with a satisfied smile and watched as the young man signed his application with a flourish. Somehow he knew... Winning over this fireman was an important achievement. There was something about him that told Roy his life had just changed for the better.