That Warm Fuzzy Feeling

With great effort and a sliding gait he wearily made his way up the walk to the door where he leaned heavily against the front of the house, planting both hands on the screen door to steady himself. If he hadn't promised the kids that he'd come straight to the party after he got off shift, he would have gone directly home to bed.

The overtime shift had been grueling and to top it off the last call to an apartment complex had lasted two hours after shift change. 'Why do I do this to myself? If it isn't bad enough that I get banged up on my own shift. I have to volunteer to work overtime too.' Johnny was beyond exhausted and although he hadn't told anyone, especially at Rampart, his wrist, now wrapped in an ace bandage, and his knee, that he knew had grown several sizes larger than its normal size, were throbbing to the beat of his heart. His throat hurt and his chest ached from smoke inhalation and his head felt like it had a drum line practicing a steady beat inside. Roy would have insisted he get checked out, but his temporary partner didn't know him that well.

'I better pull myself together before I face Roy. He's gonna know if I'm not careful. Then all the guys will find out. Cap'll make me take a shift off and I can't afford that right now.' Taking a few deep cleansing breaths Johnny rolled his head from side to side and pushed himself away from his perch. He could hear the festivities already started in the back yard through the screen door. He was thankful that his friends had left him his usual spot in the driveway. If he'd had to park down the street, he didn't think he would have made it this far. 'I'll just try to make it to the bathroom without anyone knowing I'm here, splash some water on my face and try to pull myself together.' He sighed. 'I hope no one sees me.'

Johnny pressed his face to the screen trying to see if anyone was in the kitchen before opening the door. He knew the hinges squeaked, and he didn't want to alert anyone to his arrival until he had time to freshen up. Seeing that the coast was clear he slipped inside the house and down the familiar hallway to the guest bath. He knew Roy's house like the back of his hand. He should, he'd spent more than enough time there for it to feel like home. He closed the door and leaned his forehead against it, willing the drums in his head to take a break.

He slowly turned to the sink and again placed both hands out to steady himself. After a few minutes he reached over and turned on the water and with his good hand splashed some on his face. Then he looked up into the mirror to see if he looked as bad as he felt.

To his dismay...he did look bad. His eyes had dark circles beneath them. He looked pale and tired. He'd gotten water on the butterfly bandage he had put on the cut at his hairline, and the bruising had already turned an ugly shade around it. Sighing deeply he grabbed the towel and patted his face dry. He decided another hot, but quick, shower would make his aching muscles feel better and maybe help him wake up, so he stripped quickly while the water heated up.

After standing in the heated spray for a few minutes, Johnny reluctantly turned off the water, slung the water from his hair, which he quickly regretted, and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around himself; picked up his clothes and peeked out of the door to make sure the coast was clear. He limped across the hall into the sewing room where his bed was. Joanne had set it up for him after he had been injured several times and Brackett wouldn't let him go home alone. She had insisted that it was not just for him. Roy's mother could use it when she visited too, but so far he had been the only person to sleep there.

Before sliding into his jeans, Johnny looked at the swelling around his knee. 'Must have really twisted it good this time. Oh well, a little ice later and elevating it will help. I just have to get through this party first.' He finished buckling his belt and sat on the side of the bed to re-wrap his wrist. It was never easy to wrap your own wrist, but he'd done it many times before. Sometimes after a long shift when he hadn't told anyone he'd hurt it, he would go back to his place and have it wrapped for a couple of days before having to go back on shift. 'If I keep having to wrap this up I'll have to get it x-rayed. Every time I think it's gettin' better I screw it up again.' Once he haphazardly wrapped the wrist he leaned back on the bed to fish in his jeans pocket for the extra band aides he had stuffed there before leaving the station. Without sitting up again, he felt for the cut on his forehead, tore open the bandages and refashioned a butterfly bandage on his still damp skin. If he hadn't been so tired he might have realized they wouldn't stick well. He was still laying half on the bed half off when he fell asleep a few minutes later.