Brian woke up Friday morning to the sound of loud banging. He sat up quickly in bed, trying to orient himself to his surroundings. He saw the now familiar picture that Gus had drawn hanging on the small piece of cork board, and the two chairs still next to his bed.

"Shit. I can't wait to get out of this hell hole. Sleep when I want to, have a drink if I feel like it, and no body constantly barging in my room," he said under his breath.

His bladder was about to burst, so he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and carefully made his way to the bathroom to take care of it. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, thankful that Justin had brought some of his products to the hospital. He made his way back to bed and flipped on the television, watching the morning news.

A knock on the door about an hour later brought his breakfast. "Fucking oatmeal and toast." He dipped the spoon into the thick cereal and took a tentative bite. He ate half of the bowl, drank his milk and ate the banana on his tray.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he walked to the dresser where a clean pair of lounge pants were folded, dressing in those along with a clean shirt. He sat in the chair and picked up the notebook that Ted had left the night before, then began reading the detailed notes that Ted made regarding the current campaigns they were working on.

Jose came to the door about an hour later. "Ready? I see you've dressed yourself. I'm impressed. I think you will be ready to go home in a few days."

"Music to my ears," Brian said. "When can I go back to work?"

"I'm not your doctor, Brian. I can't tell you that information, but it will be a while. While you can be released from the hospital soon, your body is still healing and regaining strength. You will need some help for a week or so when you get home," Jose explained.

"What kind of help? I'm walking and can get around just fine," Brian explained.

"You're doing great in the hospital, but your home is probably two to three times as big as your hospital room. You will need someone to cook for you, and to help with laundry and cleaning. You might leave the hospital, but it doesn't mean you're able to return to your pre-accident life."

Brian shook his head and frowned. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"OK...time to walk. We'll do a long session this morning. I think you're up to it," Jose remarked.

"Okay." Brian got out of his chair and slowly walked in front of Jose to the therapy room.

"You're making great progress. From a therapy stand point, you can be released by Monday," Jose said as he watched Brian. "Why don't you walk up the stairs twice. That is about the equivalent to a set of stairs in the outside world."

Brian slowly and carefully walked up the small staircase; he didn't linger when he reached the top, but came right back down. He was sweating a little with the exertion, but turned around to walk them again.

"Great job! Why don't you sit for a minute and rest before we do any more walking. Don't want you to get too tired," Jose instructed as he pointed to the chair.

Brian shook his head in disagreement. "If I'm going to get out of here, I'd better have my strength back. I refuse to have people waiting on me hand and foot." I can just see it now...Deb coming over nightly with a carb-filled casserole, telling me to eat - that I'm too skinny. Mikey coming over to show me some geeky comic book that just arrived - trying to turn me back into an adolescent. Lindsay bringing Gus over just to show me that I can't keep up with him and ‘maybe I shouldn't have him for awhile.' Ted being solicitous like he was when I had cancer, and of course, Ms. Honeycutt who will bring me hordes of fattening catering food to try since ‘he knows that I can't cook since I'm convalescing.' Justin'd better get his ass back home before I get discharged...

What the fuck did I just think? Justin better get his ass back home? Since when is Pittsburgh his home? Shit, who am I fooling? No one, not even myself! I want Justin here... can't go there right now. I've got to concentrate on walking right now.

Brian walked up and down the stairs and walked around the therapy room. "You've done a great job. I think its time to go back to your room," Jose said.

Brian sighed loudly, "Yeah. I'm tired. We're still on for this afternoon, though?" Brian questioned.

"I'll see you later in the day, before I go home. You did a lot today and I don't want you getting hurt."

"Yes, mother," Brian answered, tongue in cheek. He returned to his room and sat down in the chair.

Brian looked at the clock, realizing he had several hours before lunch would arrive. He pulled out his notes again and began his work for the day. The afternoon passed quickly, and he was very pleased with his progress. He had read through all the notes Ted brought and talked to Cynthia several times. She was pleased to hear that he'd be discharged soon, and would probably return in several weeks.

Jose came to work with Brian about 4:30 in the afternoon. "You ready? Your body should have had plenty of time to rest and recuperate."

"Let's go Hoss," Brian responded.

Jose laughed at the old television reference. "Didn't think you'd be into old Western serials," he commented.

"I'm in advertising. I have to know many references to appeal to different audiences. Besides, the old Western serials were filled with hot men. Gave me many a good wet dream." Brian smirked.

Jose shook his head and grinned. "What would Justin think if he heard you talking like that."

Brian looked at Jose, a puzzled expression on his face. "Justin and I aren't married."

"I know. Just kidding. Let's get started."

Brian walked across the room several times, then went to the steps, where he climbed the mini-staircase twice as well.

"Great job, Brian. You really have regained your strength. I'm going to recommend that you be released on Monday. That gives you two more days before you go home."

"You've been a real torture master, but if that means I get to go home soon, it will all be worth it. Since I'm doing so well, you think I can take a shower? These sponge baths don't really make me feel clean."

"I thought you did that yesterday?" Jose questioned.

"Too tired, but today I feel fine." Brian bowed a little as he answered.

"I don't see why not. It will be a good test of your abilities. Be sure to tell the nurses when you go in, so they can check on you."

"Those nurses want to check on me, all right. It's a good thing I'm queer or I'd have more of them wanting to give me a sponge bath," Brian half kidded.

"Time for you to go back to your room. Do you want to walk or ride in your carriage?"
Jose joked as he pointed to the wheelchair.

"I'll walk. Better get used to it. No one is pushing Brian Kinney in a wheelchair once he leaves this place." Brian made his way to the doorway, and walked slowly but methodically toward his room.

Jose walked beside him, watching for signs of fatigue. Once Brian was safely in his room, he waved and said "See you tomorrow. Enjoy your shower!" Jose grinned as he walked out of the room.

Brian was tired, but he really wanted his shower today. This was a perfect opportunity, alone for the evening and no one expected. He would be really clean for the first time in at least a month. I can't imagine what my stylist would say if he saw the mess on my head. Brian gathered clean clothes and walked to the bathroom. His kit was already in the small room and he got out his shampoo and body wash, placing them in the shower. He took off his dirty clothes and dropped them on the floor, and then turned to the handles, adjusting the water to the correct temperature.

Stepping into the shower, he felt the long-missed warm water against his skin. He sighed in contentment as the water sluiced over his skin, luxuriating in the shower spray. He poured shampoo in his hand, and then washed his hair. Sudsing the liquid, he smelled the familiar scent of Sexual Pour Homme shampoo and smiled. Justin had bought the shampoo as a joke, the name symbolizing Brian's look on life. He ended up liking the product, so he continued to purchase it. He washed his hair twice, running his fingers through his long locks to ensure that the soap was all gone. Gathering the washcloth, he squirted some body wash on the cloth, sudsing the liquid. Carefully he bent down and washed each leg. He allowed his mind to wander when he cleaned his leg with the long scar, trying to avoid the imperfection. He washed his arms, torso and back. He lifted his sack to wash his perineum and felt his cock get hard. Closing his eyes, he envisioned Justin in the shower, stroking his cock, sliding over the slippery hardness.

Justin loved to play with his cock and balls in the shower. He thought it had something to do with nostalgia and that first shower they took together. He remembered how he turned Justin around to wash his hair, and then pushed him against the shower door to fuck him. That sweet virgin ass was tight, but worth the effort. Smiling, he realized he probably fucked Justin thousands of times in the shower... and still enjoyed it. I'm a fucking lesbian. What have they done to my brain?

Putting down the washcloth, he soaped his finger and ran it along his crack, enjoying the teasing. With his other hand, he stroked his cock into full hardness. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the dual stimulation of the delicious sensations. He slipped his finger into the tight hole. Damn, I'm tight. While I may not bottom very often, I do love a finger up my ass. I'll have to get Justin to do it more often. I'm sure he won't object. Stroking his cock in time to the pumping motion of his finger, Brian quickly felt his balls tighten, a precursor of his impending release. He sped up his hand, pulling and squeezing at the engorged head, and felt the sweet release of come spread over his fingers. He called out, "Justinnnn," then felt his body jerk as he fell to the floor.
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The night nurse found him there two hours later when she came to check his blood pressure. She turned off the now-cold water and called his name, "Mr. Kinney! Mr. Kinney!" She touched his shoulder, trying to get a response.

He shivered in the cold and turned toward the nurse. "What the fuck am I doing down here?" He placed his hands on the floor and attempted to stand. "AHHH!!!!" he yelled as pain radiated down his leg.

"Are you okay?" the night nurse asked.

"IF I WAS FUCKING OKAY, DO YOU THINK I WOULD YELL LIKE THAT? NO I'M NOT OKAY!"

"Where do you hurt?" She looked at his body, crumpled on the floor, trying to see if there were any visible injuries.

"IT'S MY FUCKING LEG. I CAN'T PUT ANY WEIGHT ON IT, YOU BITCH. NOW HELP ME OUT OF HERE SO I CAN PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

"Of course. I'll be right back." She turned and pressed the button for help. "Mr. Kinney has fallen in the shower and I need some assistance to get him up. He seems to have injured his leg."

Two orderlies came in to the bathroom, lifted Brian out of the shower and dried him off before returning him to bed. The nurse assisted him in to a hospital gown before taking his vitals and looking at this leg. His lower leg was turning a mottled purple and appeared swollen.

She pushed the call button again. "Please call Dr. Moya. I think Mr. Kinney needs to be examined."

Dr. Moya came to the room within half an hour and examined Brian. "Mr. Kinney, do you remember what happened?"

"I took a shower and next thing I knew I woke up on the floor in freezing cold water."

"I see. Did you feel light headed or dizzy when you were showering?"

"A little, but I figured I was tired," Brian explained, wondering where the line of questioning was headed.

"I'd like to do some tests. Make sure everything is okay." He wrote down his orders on the chart.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No. I'll send you down for an x-ray of that leg and then we'll do a head CT and some blood work. Can't be too cautious, Mr. Kinney."

"Whatever."

"I'll see you in a few hours."

After several hours, the tests were finished and Brian was returned to his room.

Dr. Moya came in about 9:00. "Mr. Kinney, you have fractured your tibia. I'll give you something for the pain, apply some ice, and in the morning, we'll see if we can cast it."

"Why can't you cast it now?"

"If it swells a lot, the cast will be too loose as the swelling goes down. We need to wait to cast it. Your other tests came back negative except for somewhat low blood sugar. It is very important for you to eat, Mr. Kinney. You probably passed out in the shower due to hypoglycemia. You're lucky you didn't injure yourself more."

"Yeah, fucking lucky. So, Doc, can I still be sprung from your lovely establishment on Monday?" Brian asked hopefully.

"Do you have someone to assist you when you go home?"

‘Yes," Brian answered, feeling like a child Gus' age.

"Then I don't see any reason to keep you. A broken leg will not prevent you from going home. You've made a remarkable recovery, Mr. Kinney."

"Great," Brian said in relief.

"I'll release you Mr. Kinney, but I would still like you to consider some treatment for addiction."

Brian ignored Dr. Moya's last comment. "Can I have the pain meds now? My leg hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Of course." Turning toward the nurse, Dr. Moya ordered some Vicodin for Brian and wrote his orders in Brian's chart.

"Good night, Mr. Kinney. I'll see you in the morning.

The nurse returned with Brian's medication and he swallowed them quickly, lying back on the pillows, waiting for the drugs to work.
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