This one hasn't a lot of action; a lot of talking though but stuff that needs to be said. I've had several comments about jello water. It's best really diluted; I do it 1L after boiled in 2c. You can chill the first day but it will gel after 24 hrs. Just let it warm up alittle and stir. I drink it hot as well; Makes a great change from coffee or tea. Hope you are still enjoying this, we are almost done!

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Roy couldn't have said whether it had been two minutes, ten minutes or ten hours before the sound of his wife re-entering the kitchen pulled his wandering thoughts back to the here and now.

JoAnne carried the plate back into the kitchen and laid it on the cabinet with a heavy sigh. Roy could plainly see that not much was absent. There were still four pieces of sandwich on it, only one appeared to have several bites missing. He echoed her sigh with one of his own, "He didn't eat."

"No, not much." Jo agreed as she lifted her glass of tea and drank, then joined her husband at the table. Roy caught her eyes, his own dark with worry. "He's too thin."

Jo nodded. Unlike Roy yet, she'd seen the full extent of Johnny's thinned body. Roy tapped a fist on the table surface. "He's gotta eat. His body won't have the strength he needs to heal if he doesn't."

Again Jo nodded then placed a couple of sandwiches onto both of their plates. "Enough about Johnny for now." She told him sharply, making him look up in surprise at her tone. "Eat first. You and I both need the strength as well. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

Roy nodded and applied himself to the meal before him. After Jo had eaten most of one half of her sandwich, and seen her husband begin on his second sandwich, she once more spoke. "Roy? What happened?' She gestured to his bandaged arm so he'd know what she meant. "Not that I'm not grateful for your 'timely intervention' earlier."

He smiled at her and drank some tea before answering. "I . . .uh, kinda got it squished at work."

Her eyebrows rose at that, "Squished?"

He nodded, then told her about the call, and his injury. "Doctor Bentley checked it over and said I need to see him in about three days to have it redone." He finished.

Jo nodded. "Doctor Bentley seems a good doctor. Jenny loves him." she paused, her eyes darting toward the sunroom before again meeting her husband's.

Roy nodded. "He did the surgeries on Johnny as well. He said he needs to see him also and suggested we come in together."

Now that the subject had returned to their ill houseguest, Roy knew he had to tell his wife everything. He nibbled on chips as he tried to put order to his thoughts. Finally he took a deep breath and begin. "JoAnne, I love you. I love you very much and I need to apologize to you over the way I've been behaving the last few weeks. It was uncalled for and undeserving and I'm very sorry it ever happened." He kept his head down as he traced circles in the condensation drops left on the table by his nearly empty glass.

"I love you too, Roy, and I've just been waiting for you to finally come to your senses." Her voice was clear and her words the sweetest he'd ever heard. Deep in his heart, he knew she'd forgive him, had known she had some understanding over this craziness ever since their conversation the morning that shift where Johnny was injured. With that acknowledgment, all the mental pain he'd felt over the last four days came back. Now he had to tell her what he'd done to the one he'd called 'friend'. Would she be as understanding this time?

Jo had been watching the parade of emotions that had marched across her husband's face. Whatever he was contemplating was worse then his previous confession. Somehow, she knew it had to do with Johnny. "Roy, whatever you tell me will not change the way I feel about you." She leaned forward and took his circling right hand in hers, stopping the unconscious motions. "Look at me. Tell me."

Roy looked up and Jo had to force herself not to react to the extremely sad look in his eyes. "I . . . I've probably made these last three weeks of work a living hell for Johnny," He ducked his head back downward, his hand fiddling with the glass again. "Tammy was right in some of the things she said Marc told her. I realized it when Marc told me the same things. I've been abusive and downright cruel in how I've been treating Johnny. If he wanted to, Johnny could probably have me written up."

Jo tried to maintain an even visage over this announcement. Part of her couldn't believe her husband could ever do the things he'd just said. Not to Johnny. Another part of her, the part that had already heard what Dr. Brackett and Dixie had to say as well as had seen herself, knew better now. It was this part she let control her next words and thoughts. She nodded slowly, "So, tell me. Just what did you do?"

Roy sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "Since the morning we returned back to work after our trip, I haven't let Johnny handle any care of the patients we've had. I haven't allowed him to do much more than carry equipment and bring the squad into Rampart. I have made jokes about him, his weight, his. . . being Indian . . . with Marc. I've basically dismissed anything and everything he could do or say as beneath me."

Jo shook her head in disbelief, "Oh Roy. Please tell me you didn't call Johnny a dog like Tammy said."

Roy hunched his shoulders and Jo sighed heavily in response. Roy shook his head, then gave a helpless shrug. "I . . I didn't really call him a dog." He corrected, "I think what I said was that since he was so thin, he could squeeze into tight places like a rescue dog but that he was better trained." Even as he said that, he remembered the joke about Johnny being only marginally better at setting IVs because he had the advantage of opposable thumbs. He could imagine the hurt that comment would have cause his friend and now that he rethought it, he winced over how much thinner Johnny had become. There was nothing remotely funny about his weight now.

Jo looked at her husband with an unreadable expression on her face, then suddenly she sat up a little straighter in her chair, her eyebrows angling upward. "Wait a minute!" She said, her voice sharp. Roy cringed, knowing she had put two and two together. "You said the last three weeks. The morning after our trip." She pinned her husband with a glare. "Since Jenny's accident."

He knew what she wanted and he knew he had to give it. Reluctantly he nodded. She continued to hold him with her gaze as she ground out, "Surely you don't blame Johnny for what happened to Jenny!? It was an accident! Kids are prone to accidents." She leaned toward him. "You know that; you've certainly responded to enough of them."

Roy kept his head down as he inspected the swirling dregs in his glass as if his very life depended on his concentration. Jo's eyes narrowed and she moved even closer. "Roooyyyy?" She drew out his name, her voice cold.

Silence.

Just as she was inhaling to blast him, he sighed and shook his head. "No. I don't blame Johnny for Jenny's accident." Jo looked at him, her head tilted to one side. She knew her husband well enough to know what he'd told her was the truth, but he was still holding something else back. He sighed again. He'd promised he would tell her and he would. They had made a promise years ago to be as honest with each other as possible. He'd already screwed up enough. Time to come clean.

"I don't blame him," He reiterated, "But what I did was worse . . . much worse. I . . .I was jealous of him."

He knew she was confused and he forged on ahead, "Johnny was here to take care of Jenny and I wasn't. I felt out-of-control and helpless and that scared me. Rather than be glad that someone as well trained and level-headed as Johnny was here to handle it, I somehow got it into my thick head that if I was in control of everything, something like that would never happen again. So I set about taking control. Over everything. All the responses, all the calls, even what Johnny and Marc could and couldn't do."

He gave a bitter laugh. "I'm surprised Cap waited as long as he did before he let me have it."

"And Johnny?" Jo's words cut him to the quick as he remembered that conversation.

"First, he was confused. Then he confronted me on the way back from Rampart."

There was silence for several moments before Jo pushed with, "And?"

Roy smacked his glass down hard on the table top—faintly surprised it didn't break—stood up suddenly and paced the floor, running his hands around the back of his neck. "On that first run, I treated him like . . .like a . . . a boot at the scene, . . . no," he shook his head as he remembered, "worse than a boot—'" He recalled, "I treated him like an untrained bystander and he called me on it. He told me I had no right to treat him that way, that he was just as experienced as I was." He could see his wife nod in confirmation.

For a moment, Roy was back in that cab, confronting Johnny once more. Only now it was as if he was observing himself and his partner. He watched the impact his words had on the other man, saw the shock and then defeat in those expressive brown eyes. At that moment he knew that the soul wounds the dream Brice had talked about had cut the deepest. He could almost see Johnny's spirit die from that moment on. He dropped his head. "I . . .I told him he . . . he was nothing like me and that he never would be. I called him a menace and told him his lack of attention was what got him and Duntley sick, and him snake-bit later on. I told him I felt like since I had gotten him into the paramedics I felt responsible to anyone who might get hurt because of him." He hit his balled fist hard into his leg. "God! How could I have told him that! I don't really think that; I've been proud of everything he's done. I couldn't have chosen a better partner!"

Roy's voice caught in a sob. "I destroyed him that day –the jokes and other comments later were just nails in the coffin." He dropped his head again, tears of regret stinging his eyes. "He started fading on that day, not eating with us, withdrawing, becoming quiet and not sleeping." He sighed again, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "If . . . if he d . . dies, I will have been the one who killed him, not that explosion. Me, just as surely as if I'd cut him myself."

"Well then," Roy jumped slightly as he heard his wife's strong voice come from right beside him seconds before he felt her hands on his shoulders. "I'd say, Mr. Paramedic, you'd better do everything in your power to keep him alive." He turned to face her, his blue eyes searching hers. In them he saw sadness, yes, and disappointment, but he also saw love and confidence. Her face softened into a smile as she added, "And Roy?"

He raised his eyebrows in silent question. She smiled tenderly as she raised a hand to gently cup his cheek. "Praying is a good idea too. I think Johnny could use all the help there he can get."

He nodded, slowly at first then more vigorously as he reached out and drew this woman he loved so into a fierce embrace.

They held each other for long moments then Roy pulled away. He went to the fridge, finding himself suddenly very thirsty after all that. He filled his glass, drained it and filled it again then looked at his wife in question. When she nodded he filled her glass and returned the pitcher to the fridge. He sat back down, noticing Jo did as well. "We have a long hard way ahead of us." He murmured. He sensed more than saw his wife's answering nod. Suddenly Roy recalled the thought he'd had earlier. "Jo, Johnny is running a fever, isn't he." That was more stated then questioned and it was Jo's turn to sigh as she answered, "Yes. It's been right around 102 all day."

Roy frowned at that, "All day?"

Jo nodded then began her tale. She told him about her planned 'quiet' day and how that all changed with Lina Lopez's call. "I went immediately to Johnny's house. He was expecting Lina so the door was open. He came into the living room apologizing for not quite being ready." she flipped out her hand, "Something about a dog getting his shoes." She stopped and looked carefully at her husband. "You can imagine his surprise when he saw me. And mine when I saw him."

Roy winced, knowing what she meant. Jo continued, "I asked him what happened and all he'd say at first was that you'd say he didn't run fast enough." Roy winced again and sighed. Jo didn't seem to notice, but she had. "When I helped him get his shoes on, I noticed how warm he was and he admitted that was why he was going in to see Dr. Brackett. Said he'd promised when he left the hospital he'd come back if there were any changes."

"At least he had the good sense to realize that." Roy murmured. Jo nodded and sipped her drink.

"By the time we got to the hospital, his fever was so high he was nearly out. I barely got him into the ER and Dixie immediately took him back. I waited for him in the lounge." Roy gave a faint smile at that, he'd waited in that same lounge many times, sometimes with Johnny, sometimes for Johnny. His attention returned to his wife as she continued with her tale. He looked at her to see her staring at him intently. He frowned, "What?"

"Roy, when Dr. Brackett and Dixie came back in, they were very worried." Her voice was almost stern. Roy thought frantically, trying to figure out where this concerned him except over the wellbeing of his partner. "And?"

"Johnny was refusing to stay, even to the point of refusing treatment if it came to that. Dr. Brackett said the fever was from an infection in his ear. He was debating having Johnny sedated for his own good but was concerned over what that would do to him in the long run."

Roy nodded sagely, "That would have made Johnny very angry and next time something like this happened, he'd refuse to come in."

Jo nodded, "That's exactly what Dr. Brackett feared. Then they told me what they had seen over the last few weeks."

Roy ducked his head as he gave out a small, "oh."

Jo nodded again, "Yes. That's when I told them I'd take him home and nurse him." She took another drink and her expression changed. Roy felt himself tense at the shift. "Johnny nearly refused to agree. He was apprehensive over your reaction."

Roy sighed heavily, "He hates me."

Jo shook her head, "No, he doesn't hate you. He was anxious over what you'd do."

A invisible hand grabbed ahold of Roy's gut and squeezed it –hard. "He's afraid of me?" Somehow, that hurt worse. He remembered the look of fear in his partner's eyes the day he'd pushed forcible past him in the kitchen. He'd hoped it was his imagination.

Jo made a face, "I don't think that's it either. I think he just not sure of you. Or rather where he stands with you right now."

Roy rubbed his face. He doubted his wife on this. He had made it very obvious over the last weeks where Johnny stood in his life and that was nowhere. He thought back to the way Johnny had acted toward him in the hallway; how he'd only stared at him with those vacant eyes. "Then what about the way he was looking at me just now, just looking. What do you think about that?"

"I don't know." She sighed, "Maybe because of his infection and the damage from the blast he couldn't hear you. Dr. Brackett said his hearing was affected, that's why Dixie and I placed him the way we did in that bed. So that his better-hearing ear was outward." She shrugged, "I can't really tell you."

Roy fiddled with the glass, "I can tell you. He hates me." He took a deep breath, "Johnny hates my guts." His voice softer, he finished with, "And I can't say I blame him at all."

Jo shook her head emphatically. "No Roy. I can say with almost certainty that Johnny doesn't hate you."

Roy looked at her, his expression plainly telling her he was hopeful of her words but wanted convinced. "How can you be so sure?"

She smiled at him. "Because I don't think John Gage 'can' hate someone. I don't think he has it in him to hate." She stood and placed the dishes into the sink. "Now, mind you, I don't think the task before you will be easy. Not by any means." She looked him in the eye again. "You hurt him, Roy. You hurt him in a way only two people who mean a lot to each other can hurt one another. Now you just have to convince him that you do care for him. That you never really stopped caring."

Roy nodded solemnly.

She wiped off the table as he took the remaining chips and folded the bag back up and put it away. Once the kitchen was cleaned, she turned to him once more, her expression serious. Roy found himself holding his breath. 'Here it comes' he thought, 'She's thought it over and now she's gonna let me have it.'

Jo leaned against the cabinet, her arms crossed over her chest. "I have two things to say to you, Roy William. First, I hope you've learned something over all this. As I said before, this will take time but I think eventually you'll be able to undo some of the hurt you've caused. Now, I suggest you go and see to your patient. Make sure he's as comfortable as you can make him and then secondly, . . ."

He looked up at her, hope already growing in his heart as he listened to her words. God, that's just what he wanted to do, rush into the sunroom and make sure Johnny was there and as comfortable as he could make him. But his heart froze again at he paused at the end of his wife's words. He looked at her as she stood before him, her face stern, her arms crossed across her body. Then slowly she relaxed and her face shifted into a smile, "secondly, you are going to help me with some minor redecorating. Seems there are some things that have gone missing in this house and they need to be found and put back where they belong."

He grabbed her up in his arms and kissed her firmly until they were both breathless. "I love you, Mrs. DeSoto." He said softly. She stroked his face tenderly, "I love you too, Mr. DeSoto." Then she gave his cheek a playful slap, "now go take care of your partner."

Sounds mixed with touches on his fevered skin in a weird swirling sensation and greeted Johnny as he once more felt his mental world lighten with consciousness. As had happened several times before since he'd arrived at the DeSoto house, he wasn't quite sure what was reality and what wasn't. He'd heard voices, muted but raised in anger, earlier . . . or at least he thought it was earlier. Were they really discussing him? He thought he'd heard his name spoken but what he thought he'd heard had then blended into a similar discussion he was pretty sure was a memory.

"He doesn't belong here; he's not really one of us!" The voice said. Another answered, sullen and low, "That's not our decision to make. This is not our house; it belongs to A'te. He wants the boy here. We have no choice."

"He's not of our blood." Another, even angrier voice snarled. "We barely have supplies for our own! Send him to those others, let him be their responsibility."

Johnny tossed his head as the voices continued to echo in his mind. "He drinks, they all drink. And they get drunk." This snide voice was high pitched, the tone making Johnny wince. "A savage . . . don't trust him . . . An outsider, one who is barely civilized. . . . some sort of disease . . .wrong in their brains. Think . . . about your little girl!"

Johnny tried to understand everything happening around him. His aunt conferred with Tammy Kent, both agreeing that he was unworthy to live with either whites or Indians. Roy nodded as his grandfather told him that the only way to train the savage out of him was to beat it out of him. He paused at that.

Roy? Roy was here? He could see Roy standing over him, yelling at him, telling him he couldn't trust him. Johnny flinched from the anger he saw on the other man's face and pain flared white-hot through his body. He gasped and stiffened. He tried to open his eyes but his sight remained unfocused. He blinked, trying to see if this was reality or another fever dream. But the effort to get them to stay open was beyond him. Something touched his lips and a quiet voice said, "Drink, Johnny." He drank and cool liquid flowed down his parched throat. Once he was done, the straw disappeared as a cool cloth bathed his face, then spread downward across his neck and chest.

Something warm touched the side of his neck. Johnny moved his head, a moan escaping his lips. Instantly a gentle hand stroked his fevered brow. "Shhhh, Johnny. You're alright. Just rest. Everything will be alright." He settled back, giving a heartfelt sigh as the cool cloth again began to bathe his face and neck. It felt so blessedly wonderful. Something about that voice, something . . . He shifted, moving his head again as he tried to make himself more aware. 'Roy? It sounded like . . .Roy. But it couldn't be Roy, Roy hates me. Roy would never help me; he thinks I'm a screw-up or worse. He'll never be my friend again.' Then the gentle hands were back, stroking his hair, calming him. With another sigh, his eyes never fully opening, he allowed himself to sink back into the darkness hovering on the edges of his mind.

Roy kept his hand on his partner's dark head even after Johnny's breathing deepened as he fell into sleep. He'd heard Johnny's mumbled words, heard the pain and confusion in the sick man's voice and hung his head. He could feel the tears running down his face but was too caught up in his thoughts to wipe them away. What had he done? He heard for himself now how badly he'd hurt this man, the man he'd told everyone for the last two years was his best friend. But, was he? Best friends don't demand that you always and only do what they tell you. Jenny's words from the picnic came back to haunt him. And that was exactly what he'd tried to do. He brushed the dark bangs out of his partner's closed eyes. "Oh Junior," he whispered. "I've been a stupid foolish man and you've paid the price. You don't deserve to have me try to be your friend; you deserve so much better than what I can be."

Johnny shifted again and gave a soft grunt of pain. Immediately Roy's hand was back on his friend's face, wiping the cooling cloth gentle over it. As he did, he whispered softly, "Relax Johnny. Sleep. That's right; just sleep and get better. We have a lot to talk about when you do." He gave a sardonic grin, "I just can't wait until you can look me in the eye and tell me what an ass I've been, partner."

Johnny didn't move or make any other action to Roy's words as his breathing again settled out. Roy continued to bathe him and talk in calm, soothing tones. His concentration was all on the thin fevered figure before him. Which is why he jumped and gave a faint yelp of surprise when a hand rested on his elbow. He blinked up into his wife's grinning face as he tried to slow down his heart.

"I came to relieve you." She answered his unspoken question. "I figured by now you could use a shower and some sleep."

Roy frowned and looked back at the sleeping form before him, "But Johnny . . . "

"It's my turn now, Roy" She fingered his sleeve, "And I think you should change out of this now."

Roy looked down, noticing he was still in his soiled uniform. Still he hesitated, "Just a little while more, then I'll go change."

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes, "Roy" she admonished, "That's what you said the last two times I came in here. It's time. Now."

Roy scowled at her, "I haven't been in here that long."

Jo shoved her arm with its watch in his face. "Roy, you've been in here since right after supper. We ate at 6 and it's now 10."

He blinked, "It hasn't been that long . . . has it?" He looked at the offered watch. Sure enough, she was right. Suddenly he felt tired as the sleeplessness of the last two nights caught up with him. A intense urge to yawn hit him but he stifled it. His wife noticed and chuckled softly. Then she laid her hand on their patient's forehead. "He feels a little cooler now."

Roy nodded, "His temp is down some. 101 orally the last time I took it." He stood and stretched. His wife was right and he was tired. But. His gaze went again to the bed.

Jo slapped his arm, then not too gently shoved him toward the door. She settled into the chair he'd just rose out of as she told him. "I'll sit with him now. You go shower then get to bed."

He finally nodded, then yawned widely. "You'll call for me . . . "

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye and he grinned sheepishly back at her. "Ok, ok, I'm getting." And he did. As he trudged off toward their bathroom, he could hear his wife's soft voice murmuring soothing words of comfort to their friend.

Once he left the room, exhaustion hit Roy hard. He entered the bathroom and smiled as he saw not only towels laid out, but a fresh set of sweats, his medicines and a glass of juice. By the time he finished in the bathroom, he could barely keep his eyes open. 'Good thing I can find my way around my bedroom even in the dark,' he mused as he crawled into the bed and pulled the sheet over his body. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"Roy. Roy!" Roy opened blurry eyes in response to his name being called as well as his shoulder gently being shook. He smiled at his wife and she smiled back. Then the memories of the past day rushed back in on him and he sat straight up. "Johnny. How's Johnny doing?"

Jo settled on the edge of their bed and Roy felt instant relief that she seemed relaxed. "He's doing about the same. His fever is hovering right around 101. He's also had . . . well . . .I guess you could call them dreams or maybe nightmares."

Roy raised his eyebrows, "Oh?"

Jo nodded, "Yes, he starts moving around and muttering. Then he'll jerk suddenly and his eyes will fly open. I just laid my hand on his shoulders and talked softly to him then he'd settle back into sleep."

Roy nodded as he rose out of the bed. He kissed his wife. "You gonna climb into bed now?"

Jo hesitated, and Roy chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll holler loudly if I need you."

She smiled again as she glanced at the clock by the bed. "I think I will. It's been a pretty busy day." She tried to stifle a yawn and he chuckled as he kissed her forehead. He watched as she settled under the covers then turned off the light and pulled the door partly closed.

Yawning he walked down the stairs toward the kitchen. He took a cup from the cabinet then helped himself to the fresh coffee Jo had left for him in the pot. He sipped it slowly as he worked on waking up. He looked at his hand, seeing it was still swollen although that seemed to have decreased somewhat. Also, even though it throbbed dully, it wasn't with the agonizing rhythm it had earlier. He debated taking a pain pill but decided on just aspirin instead. 'Those pain meds make me drowsy and I don't want to fade off while watching over Johnny.'

His coffee drank and the pills swallowed he made his way to 'Johnny's Room'. He pushed open the sliding door and stood for a long moment in the doorway, just staring at his ill partner. Quietly, he entered the room and sat in the waiting chair. "At least this is more comfortable than those awful things at Rampart." he murmured. Johnny moved his head and shifted his body, mumbling something inarticulately. Roy laid a soothing hand on his partner's forehead and Johnny's breathing resumed it's deeper cadence. "That's right, partner, you just sleep," he told the younger man. "I'll sit in whatever chair I can or just stand, anything if I can just help you."

Writing on a pad next to the thermometer and the ready drinking cup caught his eye. He lifted it up and read it, smiling at his efficient wife. On it Jo had recorded each temp, the time when taken and when any medicines had been dispensed. "She missed her calling," he mused, "Jo woulda made a great head nurse." In his mind he could almost hear his wife's snort and comment 'What do you mean, 'would've', I AM a head nurse! How many times have I nursed somebody right here in this very room, Mr. DeSoto!? And that includes you!'

He leaned back into the soft cushion of the chair then glanced at his watch. He corrected the motion as he realized his watch wasn't on left his wrist; it'd had to be removed do to the bulky bandage. After his shower, he'd placed it on his right wrist. He checked it. 2:35 am. Jo had allowed him several hours of good sleep. He was still tired, but not feeling the bone-weariness he had before. He yawned and stretched then looked back at the sleeping Johnny. According to the last time Jo had taken his temp it had been still down, 101 on the dot and that had been at 2 am. He wouldn't really need to check him again for at least a couple hours. Roy relaxed, watching the reassuring respirations of his friend.

Sudden squeaking from the daybed springs grabbed Roy's attention. 'Damn things are too noisy. I'm gonna oil them whether Jo likes it or not' was his first thought. His second was a curse on himself as he realized he'd fallen asleep and his next was a sinking feeling as he jumped to his feet and moved closer to his friend. Johnny was shaking, his whole body trembling , his teeth chattering as he tried to curl up as tightly as possible. His shivers were making the bed squeak. Roy knew instantly what the problem was. "On no, Johnny, no," he muttered as he laid a hand on the dark haired man's forehead. It was almost painfully hot. He ran to the doorway and shouted up toward the bedroom. "Jo! JoAnne! I need you down here! JoAnne! Wake up!"

He returned to the other man's side as Johnny began to moan. Rapid footsteps racing down the stairs told him his wife had heard him. She must have indeed been listening for his call, even as she slept.

JoAnne rushed into the room, her eyes wide. "Roy, I heard you. What's happening?" She glanced toward the bed and groaned, "Oh no, he's worse."

True enough, although Johnny had been fever flushed when she'd left, his face wasn't the dramatic combination of pale skin and deep ruddy cheeks that it now was. Although his eyes were open, there was no sign of awareness in their dark depths. He tried to curl up for warmth as his body shook with chills but this action along with the force of his shivers pulled on his damaged muscles and stitches, causing him to moan constantly.

"His fever's spiking." Roy kept his voice low as he tried to comfort his friend. "Johnny, try to relax. You're only making it worse."

"Hiya, macuwita, Hiya, hiya." Johnny moaned as Roy forced him once more back on his back. Roy looked up at his wife. "Jo, do we still have those old rubber water bottles?"

She thought for only a second on their location then nodded, "Fill them with ice water?" She asked even as she whirled around to the closet in the hall. She raced to the kitchen and Roy heard the sound of the ice tray being broken open, then the sound of the water running in the bathroom.

"Yes, we've got to bring his fever down." Roy held the thermometer under his friend's arm, with the unbandaged fingers of his left hand while his right firmly pinned Johnny on his back by pressure on his uninjured shoulder.. "He's shaking so bad I was afraid to put this in his mouth."

"What's he saying? Is he just babbling from the fever?" He could still hear his wife from the bathroom as she quickly filled the bottles.

"No, he's speaking in Dakota." Jo nodded to her husband as she re-entered the room. She knew that when extremely tired or under great stress Johnny sometimes slipped into the language of his youth. "What's he saying?"

Roy looked sadly at his wife, "He's begging me to stop, he's telling me he's cold."

Johnny tossed his head from side to side, "Macuwita, macuwita," he whimpered. Roy sighed heavily as he rested his hand on his partner's forehead. "No, Johnny." He spoke softly and soothingly, "You're not cold; you're chilling. Your fever is climbing. We have to cool you down." Roy removed the thermometer and rolled it into the light to read it. He sighed again and looked up at his wife. "104.6."

Jo winced as she glanced at their shaking friend. Johnny was burning up from the inside out. Roy was right; they had to get his fever down.

"Here's the three I could find. I made a couple more from ice wrapped in washcloths and put into plastic bags." Jo held out the laundry basket filled with the requested items as well as more towels.

Roy had pulled down the sheet and swiftly removed the scrubs Johnny had been wearing. Now he pulled the sheet back up to his partner's waist and grabbed the first water bottle. He gently placed it between Johnny's legs, clinching it up close to the other man's groin. Then he took the other two and placed them under each of Johnny's arms. The other bags they placed around Johnny's body. The sheet pulled snug against him with their weight but prevented the bags from being next to his over heated skin. Johnny tried to pull away from the added discomfort but he hadn't the strength. Instead he only shuddered and moaned.

Jo took the basin away and quickly returned with it refilled with cool water. Roy dipped a clean washcloth in it, wrung it out and begin wiping off Johnny's face, chest, neck and shoulders.

Johnny turned his head and looked up. His eyes caught on Roy and he blinked as if seeing him there for the first time. He wet his lips with a dry tongue and Roy placed the straw against them. But rather than drink as Roy expected, Johnny flinched from him. Stung, Roy pulled back.

Johnny was caught up in a world of hurt. The whole right side of his face felt swollen and painful, his chest felt tight causing his breath to come in gasps. His eyes burned, his head pounded and the shudders shaking his frame caused the newly healing muscles around his wounds to spasm. Suddenly a new unwelcomed sensation flooded his body from his groin and under his arms. Someone was pouring . . . icewater?? on him?? Couldn't they tell he was already freezing?? He pulled his aching eyes open wider and tried to look around; trying to see what was happening to him.

He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision and made out the form of a face looming over him. He struggled to focus on it. Roy? It was Roy . . . and he was frowning. Johnny moved his head restlessly. Roy was mad at him; he remembered Roy had cursed at him while he hurt. Was Roy hurting him now? Why?

"Why?' he finally managed. He had to apologize, had to pacify Roy.

"Sorry," Johnny breathed, "'m sorry. Please stop. 'm men'ce; I admit. Please stop, please . . ." He tried to lift his arms but something pinned his wrists to the bed. Something else likewise held down his legs. Unknowingly his eyes filled with tears which began to spill out into his hair. He moved his head, the only thing he could move. "Please stop. Cold," he begged again, the fever had taken away all of his pride. "Let me go." He struggled more but too quickly tired. Maybe if he was respectful. "Please. Please, I'll . . .try . . .harder. Mr. . .Mr. DeSoto." He tried to focus on the blurry image above him but his burning eyes failed him and his eyelids began to close. "Why?" he questioned again. "Why?"

Roy felt like something had impacted his chest, causing his breath to rush out in a gasp when Johnny flinched away from him. Then those brown eyes filled with such pain and pleading it physically hurt Roy to see. But nothing compared to the agony he felt when Johnny's weak voice began to beg him to stop, or how badly the sight of the other man's tears affected him. He stepped quickly back away from the bed, only able to watch as Johnny's limited strength gave out and those soulful eyes closed once more.

Jo move forward taking his place, stroking Johnny's hair, crooning soothing words while she gently wiped off Johnny's face. Finally, heaving a great sigh, Johnny shuddered once and slipped back into an exhausted sleep. Once she was sure he was asleep and as comfortable as they could make him while keeping up the life-saving cooling measures, Jo turned her attention toward her husband.

Roy had backed himself into the far corner of the room where he watched with wide horrified eyes. She moved toward him, placing her hand on his arm as she said, "Roy?"

Roy's gaze stayed on his partner as his voice toned, "He's . . .he's afraid of me."

Jo tried to smile. "No, he's not."

Roy nodded and faced her, "Yes. Yes he is. Worse he thinks I'm deliberately hurting him." He scrubbed at his face hard and groaned loudly. "Oh God JoAnne! What have I done!" He dropped his hands and looked at her, his eyes filled with tears of regret. "To think that he could even consider I would torture him like that."

Jo struggle for words to deny what her husband said. To tell the truth, the younger man's tears and words had impacted her as well. In her head, she knew that what they were doing was needed to bring down the fever robbing him of life. And her head knew that deep inside Johnny knew it too. But her heart ached over the childlike pleading. At this moment, Johnny wasn't a highly trained paramedic. He only knew he hurt and he was cold and someone he'd once trusted was making the pain and discomfort he felt worse.