Disclaimer: Nothing having to do with the TV Show Emergency! is mine. I just borrowed a few pages from their lives and my imagination. I get nothing for these writings but sore fingers and wrists. Any and all mistakes are mine, medical or otherwise. Feedback is craved for continuance but please be gentle; I bruise easily.

Enduring The Aftermath

Off duty LA County Firefighter/Paramedic John Gage took one last glance at the tow headed girl sleeping under the pink quilt then pulled the door nearly closed. Breathing a heavy sigh, he ran his thin fingers through his thick black hair before bringing his hands, palm up, before his face. He stared at them intently, noticing the slight tremors, almost still seeing the blood though he knew the repeated washing had removed every trace. She's safe. She's safe in her bed. Doc said she'll be fine. He told himself, desperately trying to get his mind to convince his churning stomach and aching heart it was true. With another sigh, he walked reluctantly away from the little girl's room and toward the other end of the house. Every fiber in his being bulked at reentering that room again but he knew he had too.

As he passed the closet, he reached in and grabbed a small bucket and mop. Entering the kitchen, he flipped on the light and stopped cold, letting his eyes travel around the room. The tremors from his hands migrated to his shoulders, across his back then down his legs forcing him to lose hold on the mop and bucket as he leaned heavily against the wooden doorframe.

It looks like some sort of weird red polka dotted wallpaper. Then the dark reddish brown pool in front of the sink caught his eye and his breath caught in his chest. Well, except for that maybe. Resolutely he crossed to the sink, filled one side with hot water, poured some cleaner into it then repeated the process with the bucket. He set the bucket on the floor, careful to avoid the splatters there then grabbed a sponge from under the sink and began.

First he wet the sponge, wrung it out and careful washed off the counters and backsplash, making sure he moved and wiped down every appliance and container. That task completed, he turned his attention to the refrigerator, stove, then the cabinets and finally the walls. His actions became methodical as he worked, blocking from his mind what he did until, as he rinsed the sponge off once again, he noticed the water had turned decidedly red -- blood red. A shudder ran through him as his mind plunged back a mere three hours.

The back screen door banged as Jennifer DeSoto rushed in, her cheeks red with excitement. "Chris said you said we can keep the puppy! Is that true??" Her blue eyes both pled with him and sparkled at him in her eagerness for his consent. She pushed the tendrils of blonde hair that had escaped her braid away from her face. At first he scowled at her, "Young lady, I've told you before about bursting in here like that." She dropped her eyes briefly to the top of her tennies. "Sorry, Uncle Johnny." Then blue eyes again pleaded. "What about the puppy?"

He smiled, "Now, mind you, we don't know what your Dad and Mom will say about this."

Jenny's eyes filled with tears. "But Uncle Johnny. He's all alone and he's sooooo little. He's got no one to take care of him. We can give him a good home. Dad likes doggies; I heard him say so once to mamma. He said sometimes at work he felt like he was taking care of a stray puppy."

Johnny choked on the swallow of coffee he'd just taken as the true meaning of what his partner had probably said hit him. He had no doubt he had been the topic of discussion not a canine. He looked down into those intense blue eyes awash with tears he could rarely say no to. Besides, if Roy said no, he'd take the dog. He'd been thinking about getting a dog now that he had the ranch and the long legged husky mix that had been hanging around the house had wormed its way under the big hearted paramedic's skin. Looking back at his partner's daughter he gave a great sigh, pretending to have let her force his decision. "Ok. I guess so. The poor thing doesn't appear to have a home since it's been hanging around here for the last two days. We'll have to take it to the vet to get it checked out. Till then it'll have to sleep in the garage."

She laughed and pirouetted. "Yes! A puppy!"

"Now Jen, don't get your hopes up too high. Your parents might say no and they have the last say-so." He cautioned.

She sobered then looked thoughtful. "Maybe I can get Chris on my side. Maybe if I promise to take good care of her all by myself mom will let me."

"Him" Johnny automatically corrected. Jenny looked at him bewildered and he elaborated. "The puppy is a him. I checked."

Suddenly Jenny let out a squeal and threw her arms around the paramedic's waist, nearly knocking him over. "Uncle Johnny! You're gonna take the puppy! Oh, I know he'll be soo happy at your house. He'll have the barn to play in and all the fields to run in and when you go camping you can take him with you . . ." Johnny smiled as she prattled on. "My thoughts exactly," he muttered.

Jenny reached up and pulled her uncle's head downward, giving him a resounding kiss on the cheek before she danced happily away. Then she frowned. "But it's hungry. What can I feed it?" Even as the words came out of her mouth, she pulled open the fridge and grabbed a package of hotdogs.

Before she could run back outside, he grabbed the hot dogs out of her hands with a stern, "I don't think so missy, that's our supper."

"But the puppy's hungry! I just know he is." She pouted up at him and his heart melted like an abandoned snow cone on a Hawaiian beach.

"Awright. Um. How 'bout you give him a can of Mousie's food. I'm sure she won't mind."

She bounced off toward the pantry and returned with a can of cat food. He took the rescued hotdogs and laid them on the counter while he pulled out a sauce pan then filling it with water, placed it on the stove. At the other end of the counter, he heard the sound of the electric can opener, then a mumbled, "Great. Lid's still stuck on. Eeeeuuuuu, what is that gunk in there? Yuck!" He chortled as he placed the hotdogs in the pan, listening without looking as water from the faucet ran full blast. She must have gotten some of that gel on her hand. He thought, Yeah, she's right, what is that gunk anyway?

The scream assaulted his ears just as something wet assaulted his face. He turned. Jenny now bounced from one foot to the other by the sink, shaking her right hand as hard as she could. Drops from her hand splattered the ceiling, the counter, the floor, her, him. Red drops. Blood.

His eyes went wide and in two steps, he reached her, grabbing for her shaking hand. "Stop! Jenny stop! Hold still. Let me look at it." She stopped, tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed. "It hurts! It hurts!" He pulled the hand back under the running water in an attempt to rinse off enough of the blood to see the damage. How did she . . . the can! He glanced at the guilty bit of tin; saw the lid at a 45 angle from the can, tiny bits of metal still connecting the two. Instantly he knew what had happened. He looked back at the hand. Fingers still all there, but not looking right. With his other hand, he grabbed a clean dishcloth, placed it over the fingers, and pressed down. He crouched down beside her as he noticed the paleness of her face. "I …I feel funny." She murmured as her eyes went wide. Without any hesitation, he scooped her up, plopped her on a chair and forced her head between her knees. She gave a faint giggle. "Now I can't breath." She struggled against his hand, trying to get to the floor.

"It's awright, this will help." he soothed her.

"I know my first aid, Uncle Johnny. For shock you lay the victim down and elevate the feet. Then I can breath." With a forced smile, he let her down, keeping his hand on her hand and the hand well above her heart. "Better?" He asked. She nodded.

He turned his attention back to the hand, pulling the towel carefully away, trying to ascertain the extent of the injury. It was deep. It was bad. The front of the thumb gaped open, nearly severed. He wrapped it again and looked about. The phone hung on the wall in front of him barely out of reach. He looked back down at his blood-splattered charge. "Jenny I want you to hold real still and put your other hand right here." He showed her how to grasp the hand wrapped in the towel and tightened her fingers around it. "It hurts, Uncle Johnny." She cried. Each word was a dagger into his heart but he kept his voice calm and even. "I know sweetheart but you must keep pressure on it." She did as he asked and he stood. She gave out a cry and grabbed for his leg, "Don't leave me!"

He knelt back again, placing a gentle hand on her face. "I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. I just need to reach the phone so I can call for help." He stood again, "See, I'm right here. Keep that pressure on your hand."

Blue eyes streaming tears remained glued to him as he leapt for the phone, the receiver barely in his hand before he spun the dial in a number well known. As soon as dispatch answered, he explained who he was, where, and what the problem was. The answers he received made him slam the receiver back with a muffled curse.

"Unco Shonny" The slurring of his name set him immediately back to her side, his hand replacing hers where it had eased off. "It's awright Jenny. I'm right here. I'll take care of you." He murmured, his other hand stroking her hair from her forehead.

How am I going to take care of her? No ambulances available for 25 minutes. The nearest squad is ½ an hour away. I need to get her to a hospital now. She needs replacement fluids. She's going to go into shock. He watched as she shivered and moved her closer against him, striving to provide warmth with his own body heat.