Roy DeSoto turned away from the Emergency base station to follow his partner when Dixie reached out a hand to stop him.

"Will he be okay?" she asked him, concerned for her friend.

"Yeah, he'll snap out of it. Sometimes he gets a little too emotionally involved," Roy replied.

"Speak for yourself," she countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Roy answered with his head down and walked away. "See ya soon, Dix," he called over his shoulder on his way to the squad.

"LA, Squad fifty-one available," he spoke into the H.T. unit as he walked out the Emergency entrance of Rampart Hospital.

"Squad fifty-one," replied LA dispatch.

Johnny sat dejectedly on the back bumper of the rescue squad with hands clasped in front of him. He seemed to be concentrating intently on his shoes. Roy stopped in front of him and placed his right hand on his partner's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"We can't win them all, Junior," he commiserated softly.

"Yeah, but it sure helps if we could win at least part of the time," Johnny replied in a choked voice.

Johnny was referring to the traffic accident they had just responded to only forty minutes ago. Two teenage boys had stolen a car after school and decided to take a joyride at eighty miles per hour. They weren't even old enough to drive.

One victim was pronounced dead at the scene having suffered massive head trauma while the other victim had just expired on the table in Rampart's Emergency treatment room four. Two young lives cut short all for want of a cheap thrill ride through the suburban streets of Carson, California.

Johnny pushed himself to his feet and walked towards the passenger side of the squad. Suddenly he slapped his right hand hard against a compartment door. "Man, I just don't get it! What's the big attraction with stealing cars for joyrides," Johnny vented angrily.

Roy opened his mouth as if to speak, but wisely closed it. He was used to Johnny's causes of the day but in this case, he agreed. His own son was only a year younger than the two teenagers that had died and he shuddered inside just imagining the phone call that those parents would be receiving.

"Come on partner, let's head back to the barn. It's Stoker spaghetti night."

Johnny perked up at the mention of Stoker's spaghetti. "Oh yeah?"

Mike Stoker was a quiet guy and a talented firefighter, an even better engineer; but the A-shift at Station fifty-one really appreciated his spaghetti -- no doubt about it. Even Joanne DeSoto admitted that Stoker's spaghetti was better than hers.

Roy backed the squad into it's normal resting place beside 'Big Red' as Johnny reached over and plucked the radio's microphone from its resting place on the dash.

"LA, Squad fifty-one in quarters."

On the return trip from Rampart, Johnny had seemed to recover from the TA run and had begun explaining his theory on why kids get into trouble. They both climbed out of the cab as Johnny kept on talking.

"The way I see it," he rambled on. "There's a basic lack of communication going on in these kids' home environments."

They entered the station's day room / kitchen to find Mike at the stove stirring his famous sauce. Marco was helping out by draining the boiling water from the spaghetti noodles. Chet was setting the table with dishes and flatware for the evening meal.

Johnny didn't miss a beat as he continued his analysis. "Probably both parents are working and don't have time to pay attention to them or maybe they just don't care. It all adds up to lack of supervision and poor parenting."

"What do YOU know about being a parent, Gage," huffed Chet Kelly. "I mean, you're just getting through puberty yourself, aren't ya?"

"Very funny, Chester B," quipped John as he plopped himself into an empty chair.

"Ya know, John, some kids just naturally seem to get into trouble or in your case, trouble seems to find them," added Captain Hank Stanley from behind a newspaper at the big dining table.

"All I know is if some parents were a little more involved in their children's activities, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. And those kid's parents wouldn't be making funeral arrangements," Johnny finished indignantly.

The guys all remained silent for a moment, each contemplating those words. Being a firefighter was hard, physical work but few civilians appreciated the emotional stress endured on the job. Being witness to others' suffering and misfortune was a hard load to bear for anyone. Firefighters saw a lifetime of pain and anguish in a single week of emergency response calls.

Roy spoke up after a moment and said, "Well I for one like to dwell on all the happy endings. It sure makes for an easier night's sleep."

Johnny pushed the heavy thoughts aside and responded to another perfect opening served up by Roy. With a smirk and a snort, he turned Roy's statement into another insult aimed at his favorite prankster, Chet Kelly.

"Now how can anyone sleep easier around here with Chet's snoring. Man, we should just have dispatch change our call tones to his frequency. But no, on second thought it might damage the mortar and bricks in the walls of the station…"

"Chow's ready," Mike Stoker interrupted Johnny's insult. "Dig in guys."

Roy rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the table was set with a large bowl of salad greens, fragrant garlic bread, a pot of bubbling sauce and a steaming mound of spaghetti noodles. Mike, Marco and Chet each took their seats and the six hungry firefighters tackled the food.

"This is great, Mike," Roy's complement was a little garbled as he ate. "Joanne still can't match your sauce."

Mike grinned in satisfaction and nodded at Roy's appreciation. Quiet reigned except for the murmured complements and requests for a pass of a bowl or plate. Chet Kelly broke the calm by needling Johnny – he was sore about the snoring comment.

"Hey Johnny, maybe you ought to write one of those self-help books for parents since you're such an expert and all," sneered Chet.

"I'm sure that there are thousands of parents who would correct the error of their ways if they could gain some of your wisdom and experience," Marco added helpfully and grabbed a piece of bread.

"You could be the next Doctor Spock," Mike commented.

"It would be a bestseller for sure, man. You could call it something like -- a thousand and one ways kids can get into trouble," Chet finished with false sincerity and twirled spaghetti around his fork. "Just think about all the bread you'd make."

Roy looked over in time to see that familiar look on his partner's face. 'Geesh Chet, why did you have to go and give him another crazy idea like that one,' thought Roy to himself. He could practically see the wheels turning.

John mulled the idea over for a moment and then opened his mouth to respond but the sound of the klaxon cut him off. Dispatch was giving them orders to respond to someone else in trouble.

"Squad fifty-one, unknown type rescue. Safeway Foods, 418 West 230th Street, Four, One, Eight West Two, Thirtieth. Cross street Victoria. Time out; 15:02."

Roy looked heavenward. 'One uninterrupted meal, that's all I ask,' he silently chastised the big fireman in the sky as he bolted for the squad.

Captain Stanley sprinted to the radio bay and quickly wrote the information down and responded to dispatch in a calm voice. "Squad fifty-one, KMG-365." He handed Roy the slip of paper with the rescue address through the squad window and watched as the paramedics pulled out of the bay.

"Unknown rescue," repeated John as Roy maneuvered the Squad through rush hour traffic. "It could be anything from someone without electricity to a kid stuck in a laundry chute."

"Yeah, I wonder what kind of trouble someone could get into in a grocery store?" Roy teased.

Over the years they had responded to their fair share of calls in grocery stores from treating stock boys after stacks of food fell on them, reviving a butcher from a heart attack and even rescuing Dixie when she was caught in a roof cave in.

"Maybe someone decided to cryogenically freeze themselves in the frozen food section," John joked, remembering the kid who tried to do just that using his parents' freezer.

Roy pulled into the Safeway parking lot and stopped the Squad just in front of the automatic doors.

"Well let's find out what trouble awaits us, Junior," Roy said amiably as he and Johnny pulled their equipment out of the side compartments.

"Thank God you're here," stressed the frantic store manager who rushed out to greet them. "Thanks for coming so quickly. Right this way, please," he babbled and led the two paramedics to the frozen food section. "He's stuck and I didn't know what to do."

Roy found his voice first. "I see it, but I don't believe it."

"Man, when are kids ever gonna learn?" John added in frustration.

There, among the french fries, frozen orange juice and TV dinners was a young boy with his tongue stuck to the inside of the freezer compartment.

"Hayb oo dies. Cay oo dit me ow heyah?"

"Ready to get back? We missed the spaghetti. Hopefully Mike saved us some."

Roy really wasn't paying attention to him. His attention was focused on the pretty nurse carrying charts down the hallway. 'She looks so familiar to me. I wonder…'

"Earth to Roy, come in, Roy," Johnny's annoyed voice carried through the hallway.

"Doctor Brackett's checking him over right now. Other than freezer burn and some swelling, he seems to be okay. I don't think he's gonna be licking the ice in the frozen food section at the grocery store ever again," Roy replied absently.

John was momentarily stunned by Roy's uncharacteristic behavior. And staring at pretty nurses was something totally out of character for his partner. Roy was married, not dead and he noticed pretty girls. But no matter how beautiful or sexy they were, he was never distracted long enough to give them more than a passing glance of appreciation. This warranted some investigation.

"Okay, what gives," asked Johnny? "Are you and Joanne having problems?"

Roy looked confused for a moment. "What! Why do you ask that?"

"Roy, you hardly ever spare a female that's not your wife a passing glance and here you are staring at that nurse. What else am I supposed to think?"

"What? Oh, sorry. She just looks familiar to me or maybe she reminds me of someone. I just can't put my finger on it," Roy trailed off in thought.

"Well, if it turns out you do know her, would you mind introducing me?" John asked with a wolfish grin.

"Come on Junior, let's make ourselves available."

"Hey, Partner, I'm always available," Johnny quipped.

Roy just rolled his eyes and picked up the handy-talkie. They were walking down the corridor when the H.T. signaled with three beeps.

"Squad fifty-one, what is your status?"

Roy keyed the button and spoke into the unit. "LA, Squad fifty-one available from Rampart Hospital."

"Ten-four, fifty-one. Stand by."

They listened as the tones sounded and dispatch gave the orders.

"Engine fifty-one, Squad fifty-one, Truck One-ten, Battalion fourteen, Engine sixty; restaurant fire. 14596 Western. One, four, five, nine, six Western. Cross street Jackson. Time out, 16:24."

"Ten-four, LA. Squad fifty-one responding," he replied.

Johnny and Roy bustled into the squad quickly and took off in a dash.

"Aw, man. Aren't we ever gonna get to eat?" Johnny whined as he adjusted his helmet's chin strap.

Mike slowed as they approached the scene. As the first responding unit, Cap was already swinging down from his perch on the front passenger side of the engine as Stoker brought the rig to a stop near a hydrant on the west side of the street. Hank used his handy-talkie to confirm their arrival.

"LA, Engine fifty-one on scene."

The Squad pulled to a quick stop behind the engine and John and Roy exited and hurriedly pulled on their turnout coats. From their vantage point in front of the restaurant, they could see plumes of black and gray smoke billowing from the rear of the building. The flames were engulfing the first floor. Cap eyed the situation for a brief moment and set his crew into motion.

"Marco, Chet, get an inch-and-a-half on the south side of the restaurant. We don't want this thing spreading to those other businesses," indicating either side of the Golden Chopsticks Chinese restaurant where a photography studio and hair salon were located.

"John, Roy, you go next door and evacuate the other building as a precaution. Take an H.T. in case I need you back here, though."

"Right ,Cap," replied Johnny.

"We're on it," Chet answered as he sprang into action.

Chet, Marco, and Mike worked together like finely oiled gears as they set-up to fight the fire.

Chet connected the manifold to the hydrant and Marco pulled an inch and a half hose from the bed of the engine towards the restaurant. Mike adjusted gauges at the apparatus panel, establishing the appropriate water pressure. Chet joined Marco and began to douse the flames with water.

Cap grabbed his H.T. and coordinated the additional manpower as Engine Sixty arrived on the scene. Officer Vince Howard approached Captain Stanley to update him and pass on important information regarding the fire.

"The cook says that it started in the kitchen, some kind of flare-up on one of the stoves. He barely got out of the kitchen in time to rush the customers out of the door. He's a little shook up and he's got some burns."

"I'll have John and Roy look him over. Thanks, Vince."

Roy and John had just completed the evacuation of some very reluctant beauty salon customers when Roy's handy-talkie squawked to life.

"Engine fifty-one to squad fifty-one." It was Cap.

Roy extended the antenna of his H.T. and acknowledged, "Squad fifty-one. Go ahead, Cap."

"Gage! DeSoto! We've got a man injured here," Stanley called to his paramedics.

"Ten-four, Cap. We'll be right there!"

Cap had already grabbed the biophone and drug box from the squad as Roy quickly assessed the man's injuries.

"Okay, sir we're going to take a look at your arm and have a talk with the hospital. What's your name?"

"Sam. Sam Lee," replied the cook in a tense voice.

"Are you injured anywhere else, Sam?"

"No, it's just my arm. It's really starting to hurt."

Johnny had hooked up the biophone telemetry unit and was contacting the hospital as Roy took Sam's vitals.

"Rampart base, this is rescue fifty-one. How do you read?"

Johnny noticed the red, ugly blisters on the man's arm and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Now you just sit tight and we'll see what we can do for that."

Dr. Early's voice replied from Rampart, "Rampart base here. Go ahead, fifty-one."

"Rampart, we have a male, approximately 30 years old; victim of a kitchen fire. Injuries are 2nd degree burns on his left arm from wrist to elbow. Vitals are: pulse, 74 and strong; BP, 140 over 80. Victim is in pain but is conscious."

"Fifty-one, irrigate his wounds, wrap in sterile dressings, and transport as soon as possible."

"Ten-four, Rampart."

Roy reached for a bottle to clean the burned areas and Johnny readied the dressings as the ambulance arrived on the scene.

"You're gonna be alright, Sam. We'll have you at the hospital in no time," Roy assured his patient.

A middle-aged Oriental man ran up to Mike Stoker as he worked at the engine's apparatus panel. "Pwrease, you haffa help Kim. She is steal in dayor - warking in office on second flur! Pwrease," the distraught man spoke rapidly. His heavy accent was hard to understand but Mike got the gist of it and called to Hank.

"Cap, this man says there's still someone in there, a woman in the office upstairs!" exclaimed Mike.

Cap turned to his paramedics. Johnny was putting on his turnout coat to return to the fire as Roy assisted the ambulance attendants in packaging the burned cook for transport to Rampart.

"John, we've got a report of a female victim in the restaurant, possibly in an office upstairs. You and DeSoto get in and out of there quickly."

Roy heard Captain Stanley's orders and stopped the ambulance attendants from loading the patient while he reached for the biophone.

"Hang on a 'sec. You guys will have to do this one solo. I'll okay it with the hospital."

"Rampart, this is Squad fifty-one," Roy spoke urgently.

"Squad fifty-one, go ahead," Nurse Dixie McCall answered.

"Rampart, be advised that our patient is coming in without paramedic escort. We have another possible casualty at our location."

"Ten-four, fifty-one. Please keep us informed of your situation," Dixie's concerned voice replied.

He turned to the attendants and signaled for them to take Mr. Lee.

"C'mon, Roy, let's go!"

"Right behind you, partner!"

Hank keyed the button on his H.T. "LA, Engine fifty-one. Please respond another ambulance to our location."

The dispatcher answering was quick to respond, "Ten-four, fifty-one. One additional ambulance to 14596 Western."

Both Gage and DeSoto had quickly donned their airtanks and masks and were searching the second floor of the burning restaurant. They found a small office with a couple of desks and chairs. The fire had not yet reached the room, but it was filled with choking smoke.

Outside, Cap was issuing more orders to his crew. "Kelly, get a ladder and ventilate the upstairs through those windows. They'll need a way to get that victim out as well."

"Right away, Cap!"

The smoke was thick and visibility was almost nonexistent; however, Roy and Johnny quickly discovered the young Oriental girl unconscious on the floor next to her desk.

Johnny ran his hands professionally over her checking for broken bones or other injuries. He shook her trying to rouse a response. "Miss, can you hear me?" He shook his head at Roy's unspoken question and took his airmask off and placed it over her face to give her some much needed clean air to breathe.

They heard the sound of breaking glass and Chet calling to them. The smoke began to clear somewhat, making its escape through the now open windows.

"Gage, DeSoto! This way!" yelled Chet Kelly through the thick smoke.

The ominous sounds of creaking floorboards and joists indicated that the floor beneath them was weakening from all the water being used to extinguish the fire. Roy scooped up the girl, who weighed next to nothing and made his way towards Chet. Johnny continued to share his air with her. She was starting to stir but was still out of it.

Roy handed the girl over to Chet and followed him out the window. Chet slowly descended the ladder with his burden and John was leaning out the window to grab the ladder when the floor gave way with a splintering crash. John found himself falling but managed to grab onto the window sill and hang on.

"Johnny!" Roy's normally calm voice held an edge of panic in it. He climbed back up the ladder and leaned into the window to find Johnny hanging on for dear life.

"What are ya doin' hangin' around when there's work to be done, Junior?" Roy hid his concern behind a joke.

"Just get me outta here would ya? We've got a patient to treat."

"Looks like she's taken in a lot of smoke," Johnny commented as he bent to retrieve the blood pressure cuff.

Kim's face was streaked with soot and she struggled a little as Roy placed a high flow oxygen mask over her face.

"Rampart base, this is Squad fifty-one," Roy spoke into the biophone. He paused for a moment after no response and spoke again. "Rampart, this is Rescue five-one."

"Go ahead, fifty-one," answered Doctor Kelly Brackett.

"Rampart, we have a female, approximately 22 years of age; victim of a fire. She appears to be suffering from smoke inhalation. No other apparent injuries. She is breathing on her own, but is not yet fully conscious. We have her on oxygen at the moment."

"Ten-four, fifty-one. What are her vital signs?"

"Rampart, vital signs are: Pulse - seventy, respiration - twenty-two, pupils are equal and reactive. Blood pressure is one hundred-four over sixty," reported Roy in a confident voice.

"Okay, fifty-one. Start an IV, D5W, keep the oxygen going and continue monitoring vitals. Transport as soon as possible."

"Ten-four, Rampart. ETA, 10 minutes," replied Roy as Johnny was already inserting the needle to establish the IV solution.

Johnny approached the base station and supply area outside the emergency treatment rooms. Roy was already there, filling Dixie in on the fire and helping himself to a cup of her coffee.

"Coffee?" questioned Dixie, holding up the freshly made pot invitingly in one hand.

"Sure, thanks," replied John as he took a fresh cup. "How's the girl?" he asked.

With a wink at Roy, Dixie replied, "Looks like she's one lucky young lady. Thanks to a couple of macho, good-looking firemen she'll be good as new after a day of Rampart hospitality."

"Well that ought to feed my partner's ego until we get back to the station," snorted Roy.

Johnny shot Roy a wounded, dirty look. "Thanks for the coffee, Dix."

"Anytime, gentlemen. Anytime."

"Grab those supplies would ya, Johnny," Roy ordered as he swaggered down the hallway. "I'm a macho fireman."

"Hey, now! That must mean that I'm good looking," John shot back and grinned at Dixie. He scooped up the IV bags and dressings to jog after Roy.

Returning to the charts she was updating, Dixie smiled and shook her head at their antics.

Roy shut the door of the squad and leaned forward to turn the key when Johnny's voice stopped him.

"Ya know, Roy, I've been thinking," John said in the voice Roy had learned to dread.

'Oh man, why couldn't Chet just keep his mouth shut for once?' Roy thought. "Oh, yeah? What about this time – is there another rattle in the squad that only you can hear?" Roy attempted to distract his partner.

"No – although there was that pinging sound this morning," Johnny replied, momentarily distracted. "No! I've been thinking about what Chet said earlier at the station, about writing a book. I mean for once, Chet may be on to something," he sounded surprised by the comment.

"Well, it sure would be interesting reading," Roy stated diplomatically.

John picked up on Roy's tone and bristled, "What? Doncha' think I could do it?"

Roy started the engine and pulled away from the Emergency entrance of Rampart. He remained silent, which was his right.

"Roy! Roy…"

After a dinner of Stoker's cold, leftover spaghetti, John and Roy settled in front of the television set with the rest of the guys to enjoy an old movie. Chet loved old monster flicks and sat mesmerized at the action on the screen, absently eating and passing popcorn.

At 11:00 pm Captain Stanley turned to his crew. "Alright, children, bedtime."

"Aw, Cap, do we have to?" Chet Kelly whined. "The original Dracula is next. Ya know the one with Bella Lugosi?" he added dramatically.

"Chet, get to bed," Cap's voice brooked no arguments.

The alarm rang out to rouse six sleepy firefighters into their gear.

"Station fifty-one, Engine sixty-nine; structure fire. 1338 Indiana. One, three, three, eight Indiana. Cross street Sommerville. Time out 02:14."

"Station fifty-one, ten-four, KMG-365," acknowledged Stanley into the microphone by his bedside.

They all raced to their vehicles to speed through the dark, with sirens screaming.

The typical southern California ranch house was engulfed in flames as the two vehicles from station fifty-one arrived. A stunned couple sat on the lawn as a deputy tried to get some information that might help the fire crews and complete his incident report.

Captain Stanley's crew immediately went into action, pulling out air tanks and strapping them on their backs. He ordered two inch-and-a-half lines from his men and coordinated engine sixty-nine's additional manpower with Captain Bailey. Several lengths of hose littered the street and neighbors in their pajamas stood staring, transfixed at the burning house.

The fire was extinguished and the crews were mopping up the mess. Unfortunately, the home had been destroyed. The neighboring houses; however, had been saved from the same fate.

Beside the Squad sat three sooty and exhausted firefighters. Roy was examining Johnny as Chet sat moaning and clutching his injured foot.

"Owww!" John screeched as Roy found a tender spot on his shoulder. "Eeeeeeasy, Roy! Geez man, have you been taking bedside manner lessons from Morton?" groused Johnny.

"Well I hate to be the one to break it to ya partner, but it looks like you're going to need some x-rays," Roy attempted a light tone. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked and continued to check for broken bones.

"Stop that!" John winced and sat up. "I'm okay - just a little winded and bruised."

"Sure, partner - whatever you say," Roy tried to placate him.

"Hey, Roy, what about me?" Chet moaned. "I'm dyin' here, buddy."

"Come on, gentleman. Let's get you looked at." Dixie led the two firefighters into treatment room three. "I'm thinking of starting a frequent patient program," she continued. "And you, my friend," she said, pointing at John, "will be our first card carrying member."

"Now, Dix, I thought you were going to reward me for BRINGING you so many patients." Johnny said in a mocking tone.

"Hey, you better watch out for him, Dixie," Chet warned. "Now he's recruiting patients all on his own," he groused.

"Stow it, Chet," Johnny warned.

She gave them her best head nurse look of reproach and then couldn't stop herself from smiling. For all his skirt chasing charm and cavalier attitude, John Gage was one of her favorite paramedics along with his partner, Roy DeSoto. She had a soft spot for the entire crew at station fifty-one as well.

"Okay, boys – enough," she ordered, hands on hips. "Take your clothes off," Dixie said in a no nonsense tone.

"How do you guys get yourself into these situations anyway?" Joe Early questioned the embarrassed firefighters in treatment room three.

"Well, Doc, if my pal the super paramedic here had been watching where he was going…" Chet Kelly complained but was interrupted by John Gage defending himself.

"Hey, PAL, I wasn't the one that let go of that hose!" Johnny insisted from the other gurney.

"Well, Johnny – you did a good job of bruising that shoulder. You'll be stiff and sore for a few days but I think you'll live," Joe recited in an amused voice.

"What about me, Doc, will I be able to walk again?" Chet asked fearfully.

"Nothing's broken, but you did an equally good job on that ankle. It's a severe sprain that'll put you on crutches for a week. I don't think amputation is necessary, though. You should be back to normal in two or three weeks."

"Normal," scoffed Johnny. "Doc, you obviously haven't seen Chet Kelly normal."

Joe Early couldn't stop himself from laughing as he turned to address Dixie. "Let's keep them for a few hours of observation, just in case. They can go home later this morning."

Johnny rearranged himself amongst the sheets and pillows on the hospital bed in Observation room two and tried to tune out the ramblings of one Chester Kelly.

"I sure am bored. Where are the guys? A-shift ended over three hours ago!"

He was saved from a reply when fifty-one's crewmembers entered the room. His partner, Roy, led the way followed by Mike Stoker, Hank Stanley and Marco Lopez.

"Hey, it sure is good to see you guys!" Johnny greeted them enthusiastically, wincing as he sat up too quickly.

"Man, I can't wait to get outta here," Chet was grumbling. "What they try to pass off as food is worse than anything either John or Roy could create," he continued.

"Chet?" Johnny tried to get his attention.

"Yeah, Gage - what is it?" Chet answered his roommate.

"Shut up," was John Gage's simple reply.

Chet feigned outrage from his bed on the other side of the room. "Now, that's gratitude for you! You might not remember, pal, but I got injured hauling your sorry hide from danger," he vented.

"Who put me in danger to begin with, hmmm?" Johnny prodded.

"I mean what are friends for? You'd think he'd be a little nicer to a fellow firefighter injured in the line of duty…" Chet gestured to his friends for support.

"Uh, Chet?" Captain Stanley interrupted his tirade.

"Yeah, Cap?" Chet replied.

"Shut up, ya twit!"

"Hey, I resent that remark," Chet protested in a hurt voice.

"Don't you mean you resemble that remark," Mike teased.

The bantering continued and Roy sighed and contemplated this group of men. 'Maybe I should be the one to write a book,' he thought. 'I'll call it 1,001 Ways Partners Get into Trouble.'

Author's Note: It's my first E! story and feedback is always appreciated. I've had a ton of ideas for a long time but just couldn't get them into the computer because of work, house, husband, whatever. I've taken a vow to not let those things get in the way of writing! Hope you enjoy -- more to come…(you have been warned)

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