Saving Me

"Gomenasai for everything, gomenasai, I know I let you down. Gomenasai till the end, I never needed a friend like I do now." -t.A.T.u, 'Gomenasai'

Roy stayed unconcious when they pulled him out o the car, when the ambulance sped to the hospital, and halfway through the exam. When he did come around, he wished he hadn't. There was a pain in his head that was throbbing along with his heartbeat in rapid time. His entire body felt heavy and useless and his eyelids were refusing to open. He tried to move his neck to the side, hoping it would help the pain, but something was preventing the movement. Roy's eyes moved frantically, opening just enough for a little light to peek through. It was enough to make the throbbing morph into sharp stabbing. His eyes closed and Roy groaned.

"Roy? Roy, open your eyes," a familiar voice commanded. "Roy, open your eyes now."

Roy groaned again, this time from effort, and somehow he managed it. A blurry shape was in front of a bright light, and for one minute, Roy thought he was dead. He blinked to clear his vision and bring the shape into focus, but it wasn't working.

"Roy, do you have pain anywhere," that voice asked again.

It took a little while to process the question. "Head," he muttered.

Thee was a firm probbing on his abdomen. "Anywhere else? Like your neck or back?"

He had to focus, get past the pain in his head to take a bodily inventory. It was hard because it made the head injury worse and harder to concentrate. It was a painful circle Roy wanted to escape from.

"Roy," he was prompted.

"Uh...m'should'r. Dun know wha...head h'rts." Even to Roy, his words sounded garbled and unintelligable. Was he drunk? God, he hadn't been drinking had he? But the blurry shape moved out of his hazy vision, causing the light to pierce his skull again and Roy scrunched his eyes shut. Cold flooded through the crook of his arm and spread through his body. It didn't take the pain away or loosen it, but it made him shiver a little.

"Kids," he mumbled, unable to do more.

"They're gonna be okay. Morton and Early are checking them out. We're going to get..."

The rest of the words, along with everything else, faded away.

Something was beeping. Roy reached over to shut off the alarm clock and frowned when something tugged on his hand. His eyes were still shut and he didn't much want to open them so he fell back into the dark, alarm clock forgotten.

The next thing he heard was a low humming, but not quite. His head cleared a little more and he realized the humming was actually voices. Roy couldn't make out the words and besides wanting to know what was being said, there was something else he had to know, something so important. It was hard to think, though, so it was nearly impossible to recall what was so important. The voices were closer to him and Roy doubled his efforts to open his eyes.

"That's it Roy, open your eyes now," Brackett was saying.

"Roy." That was Karen. He could tell it was them, but something was off. Karen didn't sound right, she sounded...sniffly, kind of scared. Was she hurt? What was wrong with her?

His eyes finally managed to slit open, but it didn't help him see anything. He could feel Karen next to him though, knew when she carefully picked up his hand and squeezed. He squeezed it back and there was a painful flash of another moment similar to that one, one with pain and death involved. Tears pricked his eyes, unbidden, and he tried to reign it all back in. It was okay now, Karen was there with him and her touch was all he needed to get through that pain.

"Sweetheart, it's alright. Are you in pain?"

But, there was that sniffly sound again. Something was wrong, someone had hurt her. He forced his eyes to open more and was rewarded with a spinning ceiling. Roy moaned from the wave of dizziness and nasuea and closed his eyes, took a few breaths, then slowly opened them again. He focused on a point and the room slowed until it just tilted. Not better, exactly but managable.

"Are you in pain, Roy?" Brackett again.

Being careful so he wouldn't end up on the mock up of a carnival ride, Roy turned his head. Karen was sitting next to him, eyes bloodshot and shiny, looking scared and happy and hopeful. Brackett was hovering just beside her, eyebrows knit together in that expression of proffessional concentration and conern that Roy was familiar with. He ignored Brackett for the moment and turned his attention (figurativly speaking) to his bigger concern.

"Kar," he slurred, tounge feeling heavy and fuzzy. Yeah, he was definetely on something. "Y'kay?"

A choked laugh made it's way past her lips and she brushed at her eyes. "I will be. Worry about you right now, you're the one who was hit by a car."

Hit by a car? He frowned. Another painful memory, one associated with the hand squeezing barged it's way in his mind, but like the last one, the pain of memory at finding out his wife had been hit was slowly easing under Karen's gaze and touch. No, something else was tugging at his mind, something related, but what...

Like that moment, it hit him without warning and blinding speed.

Metal on metal groaned as it smashed together...glass flew from everywhere...Jenny was slumped against the door, a little trickle of blood running from her hairline down her face...Chris was still, listing towards his sister...his left arm was bent at an unnatrual angle...

The nasuea came back full force and before he knew exactly how it happened, he was rolling to his side and throwing up everything in his stomach.

Right all over Karen.

Exhausted, limbs trembling, head throbbing, and heart sore he allowed himself to be gently pushed onto his back again, unable to do much else. Roy looked at Karen. "S'rry," he said weakly.

Karen quirked a grin at him even as she did that little nose wrinkle he loved so much. "It's alright Roy, don't worry about it. Not the first time something like this has happened," she soothed.

Roy's brow furrowed, panicking again and drawing in deep, short, panting breaths. "Chris 'nd Jenny? They okay? Where 'rethey?"

Brackett leaned in, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Easy, easy. Breath Roy, nice and slow. Just like me."

The doctor picked up one of Roy's hands and put it against his chest, slowing his breaths to an even rhythm. It seemed silly and ridiculous, but feeling the steady rise and fall, hearing and seeing the deliberate inhale and exhale helped Roy focus his own breathing. A few moments later, and Roy wasn't hyperventillating anymore. Brackett kept his hand in place a second longer, nodded to himself, then put Roy's hand back on the bed, leaving fingers on his wrist to take the pulse.

"Chris and Jenny," he said again, stronger.

Karen brushed her thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing gesture. Unfortunatly, Roy didn't want to be soothed. He wanted to know about his kids, and was perfectly willing to get up and walk through the hospital to find out about them, indecent hospital gown and all flapping in the wind. He tried to raise himself up, but didn't get too far before he was collapsing back down onto the bed, much to his head's chargin.

Perfectly willing apparently didn't mean perfectly able, Roy grimaced.

"Stay still Roy, you've got a pretty bad concussion," Karen told him, a little scolding.

"Figured," he muttered then said louder, "Chris and Jenny, or else I'll discharge AMA."

Roy had to appreciate that no one laughed right out loud at him for that statement, seeing as how he could hardly talk convincingly much less walk out on his own.

"They're okay. Chris broke his arm in two places, got a cast, and has a small hairline fracture in his skull. Both are painful, and we're watching the swelling in his brain, but there's no reason for him not to recover fully," Brackett told him.

"Jenny?"

"A nice gash on her head, took about six stitches to sew it up but that's the worst of it. A little bruised, a little cut up, and plenty scared but she's doing better than the two of you," smiled the doctor.

Roy searched his face, then Karen's, to see if either of them were holding something back, sugar coating the truth. It wasn't the case for either of them and Roy relaxed a little. The fear in his gut wasn't gone completely, not yet.

"How long?" He was getting tired, his eyelids drooping.

"Early morning the day after the accident," filled in Karen. Roy considered that.

"Can I see 'em?" It was getting harder to get his eyes open after they closed.

"Give it a couple more hours, then we'll see," plactated Kel, smiling knowingly.

Roy turned his tired gaze over to Karen, smiling at him and looking dewy eyed.

"Kar? Ya kinda smell," he mumbled, drifting off to sleep.

Roy heard an indignant snort and her reply of, "Well, I can't imagine why..." and then he was gone.

Fortunatly for everyone, the next time Roy woke up he was much more coherent and his head wasn't trying to split open. When his eyes opened with no trouble and the room wasn't trying to impersinate a merry-go-round, he figured he was on the way to recovery. There was someone standing at the window, a familiar sillouet that made Roy second guess his self diagnosis.

"Johnny," he asked.

John spun around from the window and smiled a little. He moved closer to the bed so Roy wouldn't have to strain so much to see from his flatback position on the bed. John shuffled nervously and ducked his head, peeking at Roy through his bangs. A long silence filled the room, broken occassionally by the sound of throat clearing.

"So," Johnny drew out.

"So," Roy replied amiably, settling back against his pillows with a wince.

In a flash, Johnny was there and bombarding him with questions. Was he in pain? Was he feeling alright? Did he need water? Did Johnny need to get someone? While basically mother henning Roy, Johnny was straightening anything he could get his hands on, checking Roy's IV line, the little square of bandage on his forehead.

"Johnny...Johnny!" Just as quickly as it started, it all stopped. Johnny moved back, flushed with embaressment and looking a little down. He shuffled again.

"Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean...uh...you want me to go?"

Almost afraid the younger man would, Roy reached out and snagged Johnny's wrist to keep him in place, eyebrows furrowed. "What? No I don't want you to go. Have a seat or something."

Maybe it was just Roy, but Johnny looked relieved. "Thanks. Um, I'll just stay standing, if you don't mind."

"Fine, fine." More silence, but not as akward. "How are things at 8's?"

"Oh, uh, it's alright." Johnny shoved his hands into his pockets, pulled them out again to run them through his thick hair, then put them back in his pockets. "Listen, Roy, I'm so, so, so sorry about everything."

Roy raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't react.

"For the drugs, the cold shoulder, the silent treatment, hitting you, everything. I'm really sorry, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I'm checking myself into rehab as soon as possible."

Johnny had done a lot of thinking since he'd responded to the car accident the other day. He knew that if he kept going the way he was, the consequences could be dire; maybe he'd be the one behind the wheel next time, and maybe that time, he just might end up killing someone. He had a lot of reasons for taking the pills, half of them pitiful exscuses and the other half ideas that seemed pretty stupid now, and he didn't know exactly why it got so far or how, or what it really was again that made him start to begin with. Johnny had plenty of excuses, reasons, ideas, halftruths, halflies, and hidden truths that he used to take the stuff, but he had only one reason to stop.

He didn't want to hurt anyone, or more importantly, kill anyone.

Roy was staring at Johnny, gauging and wondering. Johnny seemed a bit more like himself, but Roy knew from experience that when a person was sober, it was easy to seem like yourself. His friend seemed very sincere about his apology, and his conviction to go to rehab, but was his reason enough to get him through the pain of detox, the counseling? Would it be enough later to keep him clean? Roy wanted to believe it, had to believe it because the alternative meant loosing his best friend for good.

"Roy?" Johnny was looking at him with concern and worry, waiting for his answer and more importantly his acceptance.

"Apology accepted," Roy said simply, as if that was all he'd been waiting for all this time.

"That's it. That's all you have to say," John asked, now with disbelief.

Roy shook his head. "Johnny, I have plenty to say to you about this; most of it you aren't ready to hear." He lifted a hand to forestall the argument he could see John beginning to make. "You aren't. It's all mostly hard truths"

Johnny started pacing, not with nervous energy or because he was thinking too hard, but because his anger needed some kind of venting. "Remember when you told me that we were parnters? Like, equal partners, and that was the reason you didn't call me junior anymore?"

It took Roy a minute but he did recall that conversation. "Yeah," he said warily.

Johnny stopped and stood close to Roy's bed, hands on his hips and looking down at Roy with a glare mixed with sadness and hurt. "Were you lying?"

"No!"

"Then why are you still treating me like a rookie?" The anger was gone, leaving only the sadness and hurt.

Roy blinked. Was that what he was doing? Treating Johnny like a wet nosed rookie who didn't have any sort of sense? Had he been doing that the entire time? Thinking back and looking hard at the events leading up to this moment, Roy realized that yeah, maybe he had to a degree. Treating John with kid gloves hadn't helped then and it wasn't helping now.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," he said sincerly. "I didn't realize that was how it looked to you, and that that's how it was. There were good intentions behind it, but that's no excuse. I really and truely am sorry."

Johnny studied him a moment, then nodded slowly. "That's alright. Now, you wanna tell me these hard truths, if you think I can take it."

The older man glanced up sharply, but Johnny was grinning. Roy relaxed and took the barb as the olive branch it was.

"You really aren't gonna like it," he warned.

"Roy," Johnny did some warning of his own.

"Okay, okay." Roy settled back again. "John, I know you well enough that you had to have a pretty strong reason to start taking pills. And I know that somewhere along the way, you maybe forgot the why of it. I also know that you've got a pretty strong reason to stop taking the pills too." Roy took a breath and let it out slow, to help ease his headache and give himself some time to think about his words.

"It's always easy enough to start, to deal with it in the worst way rather than deal at all. Once you start, it's even easier to keep going. The hard part is stopping. Whatever good intentions you had, whatever reasons you gave yourself when you started, suddenly they seem to fly out the window when you're throwing your guts up and whimpering from the detox. Nothing matters at that point except that your hurt, you don't want to, and you're willing to do whatever you have to to stop.

"When you're not thinking much because of the pain, you don't remember why you quit, just that you did and maybe it was the stupidest thing you ever did. If you don't have a damn good reason to stop, to keep from quitting rehab, to keep you from starting again when you are clean, then it won't matter. None of it. You'll just be in this cycle of stop, go, stop, go and it'll end up killing you, either the detox or the overdose."

Roy stopped to let Johnny absorb that for a minute and then he leaned forward, piercing blue eyes gazing directly into brown ones and asked, "Johnny, why do you want to quit?"

John's voice was small and timid and totally unlike himself when he answered. "I don't want to kill anyone."

Even as he said it, Johnny wondered if that would be enough.

Roy nodded firmly, completely confident in the answer. While Johnny was willing to put himself into harm's way, a big reason why he was so good at his job, he avoided putting someone else into those situations. A big part of getting help was doing it for yourself, otherwise it just wasn't any good. In Johnny's case, by helping others he helped himself. Going to rehab to get clean so he wouldn't hurt or (God forbid) kill someone meant that Johnny would realize while there that he was also doing it for himself. With the strong motivator of keeping people safe from himself, Johnny could get clean and stay clean with the right help. Roy knew that, and now he had to reassure Johnny of that too.

"I said that you've got a pretty strong reason to stop, but I was wrong." Before Johnny could panic too much, Roy smiled genuienly. "You've got one hell of a reason to get clean."

Johnny watched him a minute, then slowly smiled back.

Things weren't fixed. Things weren't totally better. Things defienetly weren't ever going to be the same. But from where they were, it was better, just a bit. And now that they'd taken the step in the right direction, neither of them doubted they would eventually get there all the way.

Black-Angel-001: wow, not bad huh? yeah, kinda left off on the protective daddy roy thing there, but he and johnny needed this! besides, there'll be plenty in the next chapter for ya. also some more johnny getting better in the future (like i can do anything else now without getting lynched) ps: thanks for the kind concerns from the last chapter y'all. appreciate it, and yup, doing better. no rampart and no more scratching the paint on mike's engine lol mike: damn straight.