"Be careful on that ice. Because, let's face it... If one of us is going to fall and get hurt, it's going to be you!" Unit 643, Clay County EMS

"Why is it always me?" Johnny groaned, from the passenger seat of the squad. He fought back a pained whimper as a pothole in the road jarred him. "What was that, Roy?" he asked pitifully, cradling his broken and splinted left arm. "My punishment for not riding in the ambulance?"

Roy winced, sorry for causing his friend pain but unable to help it. "I'm sorry. You know I'm not trying to punish you. But you should have ridden in the ambulance. You could be badly injured, and should be lying flat. In fact, you should be in full spinal precautions!"

Johnny made a face. "It's not that bad. Broken arm. Couple of –ah!- broken ribs. A few scrapes. No need for an ambulance, and certainly no need for a spine board. All I did was-"

Roy smirked and cut him off. "Yeah, just how did you manage that, John? Last thing I saw, you were going to get a splint and then you were screaming."

"I was not screaming!" Johnny protested vehemently, hissing as the attempt to draw air into his lungs sent flames shooting down the left side of his chest. "Yelling, maybe. Yeah. Yelling in agony. I fell down two flights of stairs, bounced onto the concrete floor. You would have yelled. Point of fact, you would have screamed." The self-satisfied look on his face faltered as they hit another bump in the road, and he gasped sharply. This one was a little bigger, and pain engulfed him.

Roy's face twisted in sympathetic pain. "I'm sorry. I'm taking it as easy as I can. You know how this road is." Johnny nodded, and looked away so Roy wouldn't see how much the simple motion hurt him. There was nothing that tore the older medic up more than causing someone pain, and his best friend was at the top of the list of those he couldn't stand to see in pain. "If you want to stop, I can call Rampart and see if I can get you some morphine…"

"That's okay," Johnny said. "Just get me there, as easily as possible." He slumped his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

"So," Roy went on, trying to distract his junior partner from his injuries. "What caused you to fall this time? Going for the record? They don't give a purple heart for firemen, you know…"

Johnny groaned. "It was that stupid dog, Roy. If you can even call that thing a dog. It was more like a barking rat. One lousy piece of cheese could have prevented all this!"

Roy grinned, remembering the tiny Chihuahua that didn't seem to get the memo that it wasn't a Doberman. It had growled and snarled at them as they had gone inside the apartment, despite the constant shushing from its owner. "So what did Cujo do to you? Bite your toe?"

Johnny seemed to consider whether or not to answer, and Roy took an intuitive leap. "Come on. I swear I'll never breathe a word. What happened?"

Johnny looked at him, searching for sincerity. "Okay, but if Chet gets ahold of this one, I'll know it was you." Roy nodded for him to go ahead. "I was headed for the stairs, and I heard the little rat yapping behind me. The next thing I know, something's got ahold of my boot laces. I tried to shake it loose, and lost my balance."

It was a bad idea to laugh, Roy knew it, but his attempt at smothering it yielded a weird choking sound that made Johnny actually crack a smile. "Yeah, yeah… Laugh it up. Make fun of your partner when he's hurting."

That crack smarted a little, even though he knew Johnny was teasing. "I wish I could make this ride a little smoother, Junior."

Johnny forced a grin for his partner's benefit. "I know."

After almost twenty minutes of torture, driving on uneven roads toward Rampart, each bump and pothole jarring Johnny's shattered arm and his broken ribs, they arrived at Rampart. Every whimper that escaped the younger medic's attempts at control tore at Roy's guts, which was as much a reason for Johnny to try to keep quiet as his pride. He knew how badly it affected Roy when people he cared about were in pain. They pulled into the ER lot, and Johnny looked at the door, dreading moving. Roy saw it in his eyes. "Wheelchair?" He offered.

With nothing more than a withering glance, Johnny opened the squad door so Roy had to rush around to help him stand on unsteady legs. "How about you let me help you?"

A ghost of a smirk crossed Johnny's face. "Well, if you insist…"

Roy slipped under his partner's uninjured right arm and placed his hand near Johnny's armpit, well above the painful mess of his mangled ribs lower on that side. Together, they slowly made their way inside. "Doc!" Roy yelled as Dr. Brackett came out of a room down the hall. "Got a place to put Johnny?"

Brackett took in the splinted arm, the guarding of his ribs, the bruises on his face, and the slight trickle of blood dried in front of his right ear. And the almost sheepish look on his face. "Okay, which of you wants to explain this one?"

Roy shook his head with a grin. "I'm not touching this one."

Johnny moaned, though not from pain this time. "Why is it always me?"