A/N: Hello again! The start of the semester is coming quickly and I really wanted to get something else written before I get buried with work. So, here's another fun little fic I jotted down. I got the idea when I was listening to the commentary of Missy's movie Stick it. Missy's costar mentioned that she sustained a rather interesting injury while filming so I just ran with it. Anyways, here it is! Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue. I just borrow the characters every once in a while.

Like It's My Freaking Occupational Hazard

Hospitals honestly were her least favorite place. It wasn't that she's had many personal experiences with them. In fact, aside from a few hours in the ER after dislocating a shoulder during a basketball game when she was 17, she's never had to actually stay at the hospital for anything. So it wasn't that. And it wasn't even the fact that in her line of work, hospitals weren't exactly known for their cheer or good news because when you had a job like hers, you didn't go to hospitals for newborn babies or cancer survivors. You went to hospitals because someone was either dead or dying or maybe if you were really lucky, just seriously injured.

No, what she really hated about hospitals was the waiting and everything that came with it. The hours upon hours spent sitting in uncomfortable, anti-septic smelling chairs that always seemed to have been designed by someone who obviously had never had to sit in one position for a prolonged period of time. The endless parade of thoughts of every possible outcome starting with the grim and ending with the downright tragic. That was why she hated hospitals.

And she had never hated them more than she did at that precise moment.

Because she was sitting in one of those godforsaken chairs thinking those godforsaken thoughts in that godforsaken hospital, waiting for the moment when someone finally decided to let them know what the hell was going on. The tight ball of anxiousness that had been sitting in the pit of her stomach despite all of her efforts to undo it clenched angrily, causing her to inhale sharply at the sensation. At this, a hand began to move on her back, rubbing soothing circles into her uniform, and she suddenly remembered Oliver's reassuring presence beside her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a routine call. "Find 'em, cuff 'em, book 'em." as Sam always said. But it didn't happen that way, not exactly.

She slammed on the brakes, maneuvering the cruiser to cut off the fleeing B&E suspect as he tore down the quiet residential street.

"He took off down the alley," Sam said before jumping out of the car and running off on the man's heels.

Acting on autopilot, Andy threw the car into park, waiting just long enough to make sure the brakes stuck, then clambered out the door and tore after her partner. She sped down the alley, the asphalt crunching under her heavy combat boots slippery from the three straight days of rain they had just had.

"This is 1519," she said into her radio. "Requesting back up at 3481 South Regatta. In pursuit of a male party matching the description of the 24-03."

Up ahead, a metal fence blocked their path, a sure end to this chase, but served as nothing more than a minor obstacle when the suspect, in a stunning display of athleticism and acrobatics, proceeded to clear the barrier in two swift movements, leaving Sam to scramble rather clumsily over it. Parkour, she thought briefly before she too was faced with the challenge of clearing the fence.

Dropping on the other side, she took off again, only to find that neither men were in sight, and with no where to go besides another back alley up ahead on her left, decided that that was her best option. She turned onto the adjoining alley and saw both men climbing the adjacent building's metal fire escape ladder. Suddenly, the suspect stopped, frozen in mid-climb, and Sam took the opportunity to ascend several more rungs. But the suspect seemed to have been waiting for that and when Sam was right underneath him, he jumped onto the rung Sam was holding onto, smashing into her partner's fingers. With a strangled yell, Sam reflexively let go of the rung, realizing his error too late as he began to fall backwards. He shot out a hand to grab the suspect's foot to catch himself, his legs scrambling desperately to find some footing. But the rungs were slick and wet from the previous rain and with nothing to get a firm purchase on, both men fell back onto the pavement below while Andy looked on in horror.

Sam landed first, his lower back taking the blunt of the impact before his head hit the moss-covered asphalt with a sickening crack. The suspect landed on top of him, shaken but otherwise unhurt, and when he made to get up and take off again, Andy barely even spared him a second glance as all her attention was currently focused on only one thing.

"Sam!" she screamed as she ran to his side, his limbs flung out in odd directions around him. "Oh, God, Sam!"

She made a move to touch him when another voice echoed through the small alley.

"McNally, don't!"

Jerking her hand away, she looked up to see Oliver sprinting towards her while Chris apprehended the suspect not far behind him. Coming to kneel on Sam's other side, the veteran officer bent low, his cheek hovering just above Sam's nose.

"10-33, officer down! 3481 South Regatta! Send a bus over now! Repeat, officer down!" He relayed this information into his radio before turning to Andy who suddenly felt as if an anvil had been placed on her chest. "He's still breathing. But do not touch him. Do not move him. You don't know what kind of injuries he has. Just sit with him, okay, Andy?"

She nodded mutely, unable to form words, and watched as Oliver rushed away to help Chris cuff the suspect. Glancing down, she looked at Sam's still form, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging slightly slack. A wave of nausea rolled through her and hot tears prickled her eyes but she fought to control herself, silently thanking her last year and a half with the force for her ability to do just that.

Hang on, Sam. Just hang on.

When the ambulance finally arrived on scene, she had every intention of jumping in and hitching a ride to the hospital with Sam who had yet to regain consciousness, unable to bring herself to let him leave her sight. But Oliver quickly intercepted her before she did, persuading her to finish off the case at the station where she could actually be useful instead of spending her time pacing a hole into the ground as she waited for news at the hospital. So, she did, pushing through the thoughts of Sam that popped into her mind every other second, and an hour and a half later, Oliver finally agreed to drive her to Toronto General himself.

Having once again just relived one of the worst moments of her life, Andy took a shuddering breath, the cinder block on her chest still trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs. She couldn't lose him. Not when they had finally gotten their act together just a few months ago after a year spent dancing around their feelings. The last couple months had been some of the happiest of her life and she often found herself wondering what could have possibly possessed her to say "no" to him in the first place.

"Officers?"

The new voice broke through the relative silence of the waiting room, jolting her out of her all-consuming thoughts. Tearing her eyes away from the spot on the polished, white floor that she had been staring at intently for the past 20 minutes, Andy looked up and sprang to her feet when she saw that it was a doctor who had spoken.

"H—how is he? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He has a minor concussion, three cracked ribs, and a broken..."

But Andy barely even heard a word of the doctor's report of Sam's injuries, her mind momentarily shutting off the second, "He's fine." met her ears.

"Can I see him?" she asked once brain came to again.

"I'm sorry. He requested that no one be allowed in."

"I don't care what he requested," she snapped a little more harshly than she intended. "I'm his partner."

The doctor shifted his gaze to look past her where she knew a good handful of the division stood including Oliver, Noelle, and Best, all ready to back her up. Seemingly deciding that disobeying one cop was better than disobeying a whole room full, he nodded slowly. "Okay. Come with me."

With a relieved sigh, she followed the doctor through the ER doors, weaving past nurses and other doctors, before arriving at one of the private trauma rooms. The doctor gave a perfunctory knock then inched the door open and stepped into the room.

"I thought I said not to let anyone in here?" came a familiar disgruntled voice from inside.

"I'm sorry, sir. She insisted."

Pushing the door open a little further, she entered, a part of her still refusing to believe he was alright until she saw him for herself.

"Sam!" she exclaimed when she finally laid eyes on him. She made to rush to his side only to stop rather comically mid-step as she realized that there was something rather odd about what she was seeing. He was standing by the bed in his dark blue cargoes and black t-shirt, grasping the IV pole with bruised fingers no doubt from when the suspect had jumped on his hands. A thought niggled at her brain, forcing her to call to mind what the doctor had said about Sam's injuries.

"What are you— I thought— You said he broke something," she said haltingly, turning to the doctor. She had no medical training herself, aside from the required CPR, but from her experience, broken bones involved heavy, uncomfortable casts or awkward splits, none of which she saw on Sam. In fact, apart from his black and blue fingers and the slight grimace on his face, he looked perfectly fine.

"Yes, he sustained a hairline fracture on his coccyx."

She looked at the man as if he had just sprouted a second head. "His…what?"

"His coccyx," he repeated, somehow believing that if he said it again she would understand. At her blank expression, he explained further. "The tailbone. Located in the buttock region."

At this, a small, disbelieving smile crept on her face and she turned to Sam with raised eyebrows.

"You broke your ass?"

He pursed his lips, shooting her an irritated glare, but said nothing.

There was a slight beat of silence before she burst out in a fit of laughter.

"This is why I didn't want anyone here," Sam grumbled to no one in particular.

"I'm sorry…" she gasped in between giggles. "I'm sorry, it's just that…this is too good. You fell off a ladder and broke your ass."

A fresh wave of laughter swept through her and she doubled over, clutching her sides.

Beside her, the doctor seemed to be at a complete loss, not quite sure what to make of the situation. "Uh…we'll need to keep him overnight. Just as a precaution. He'll be good to go in the morning if everything checks out. And sir, you really should be in bed."

"I'll get in bed when she leaves the room."

Having finally sobered enough, Andy straightened up and raised her hands in placation. "Oh c'mon, Sam, I just spent the last two hours thinking you were either dead or a quadriplegic. Have a laugh."

He stared unblinkingly at her, still not the least bit amused.

She sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to back down, then flashed him a resigned smile. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow morning then." Her arms itched to hug him but considering his injuries, thought better of it. Instead, she stepped towards him and placed a soft kiss on his lips, momentarily forgetting about the doctor behind her. "Try to get some rest," she added with a pointed look.

At her touch, his irritation seemed to dissipate somewhat and she saw his eyes visibly soften.

"I realize this is like trying to control the weather," he said, his thumb tracing small circles on her hip. "but can we just keep this to ourselves?"

She bit her lip to suppress another round of giggles and nodded. "Sure."

Cupping his face gently in her hands, she gave him another quick kiss before backing out of the room and heading for the waiting area where she assured the others that Sam was fine but didn't give any specifics. However, it was only when she and Oliver were driving back to the station did she realize that keeping Sam's most embarrassing injury a secret was just about impossible considering the fact that the doctor had already announced it to half the division. And these days, words like "coccyx" were just one Google search away from being understood by the general public.

She stifled a laugh. Sam definitely isn't going to be very happy about that.

...

The following morning she parked her squad car in the ER's patient pick up parking lot, having gotten an hour or two from Best to pick Sam up once he gave her the go-ahead. Still yawning due to the fitful night of sleep she had had without Sam's solid, comforting presence beside her, she climbed out of the car and leaned against the passenger door, her hands cradling a cup of steaming coffee. A figure started to make its way towards her and she squinted against the early morning sun to make it out, realizing as it came closer, that it was actually two people.

A scrub-clad orderly was walking her way, pushing a very unhappy Sam in front of him in a wheelchair.

"Nice wheels, officer," she commented with a small smirk when the two men stopped beside her.

"Well aren't you hilarious?" Sam deadpanned as he flipped up the foot rests with his feet. The orderly made a move to help him stand but Sam just waved him off, instead using the arm rests to haul himself up. He grimaced and Andy immediately set down her coffee to lift one of his arms over her shoulders only to have him shrug her off.

"I'm fine, Andy."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "You do realize that saying that and actually being it are two totally different things."

To this, he said nothing and proceeded to open the passenger door instead while Andy rolled her eyes to high heaven.

"You forgot your cushion, sir."

They both turned to look at the orderly who was holding up a large, doughnut-shaped inflatable cushion.

A wide grin spread across Andy's face. "Wouldn't want that now, would we?" After taking the cushion and thanking the orderly for his help, she turned back to Sam who was openly glaring at the doughnut with distaste.

"And how exactly were you planning on sitting down?

He seemed to consider her question for a moment before grudgingly allowing her to set the cushion on the passenger seat. "No one can know about this," he growled as he gingerly sat down. "Especially Oliver. And Jerry."

"I won't tell a soul."

What she didn't tell him was that Jerry had apparently gone home last night and Googled his friend's injury, prompting him to ask her when she had arrived at the station earlier, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on his face, if Sammy would be getting one of those doughnut pillows to sit on.

Oh, the wonders of the internet.

...

Dusk was just settling across the city when Andy pulled her beloved Jetta, a gift from Sam for her 28th birthday, into the driveway, allowing the car to run idle for a moment as she let out a relieved sigh. It had been a long week. With Sam out of commission for the next month due to his injuries, something that he had made very clear he wasn't the least bit happy about, assignments at the division had been rearranged, causing her to be paired with Chris until further notice and it was a change that took more than a little getting used to. To be fair, Chris really was an awesome cop and a loyal friend. But he wasn't Sam and after eight months of permanently riding with her former T.O., being partnered with someone other than him just felt wrong on all sorts of levels. But it was finally Saturday which meant that she had the next two days off in which she planned to do absolutely nothing except spend time with her temporary ex-partner.

Grabbing her bag, she climbed out of the car and made her way up the porch steps to the house that she and Sam shared.

Silence greeted her as she entered which she found more than odd since Sam had taken to blasting either his music or the TV while he spent his time home alone.

"Sam?" she called out, shutting the door behind her. It closed and she suddenly found herself standing in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the tinted windows in the front door. She furrowed her brow, at the silence, darkness, and lack of response.

"Sam?"

Again, silence was her answer. He probably fell asleep, she thought as she made her way to the kitchen. Since arriving home four days ago, Sam had been having a hard time sleeping, his broken tailbone causing him to lay on his stomach to avoid putting pressure on it, a position he didn't normally sleep in. This, coupled with his pain, resulted in a plethora of sleepless hours, which he only seemed to catch up on during random intervals of the day when the exhaustion simply became too much.

Setting her bag and keys on the counter, Andy flicked on the lights and promptly raised a quizzical brow when a muffled grunt met her ears. She took a step towards the adjoining living room, an idea of what she was about to see already forming in her head, and didn't even bother to hide her smile when her suspicions were confirmed.

There, lying facedown on the sofa in nothing but a pair of old sweatpants, was Sam. He was staring listlessly at the floor, his left arm dangling off the couch while the other was bent above his head, looking every bit like a wounded puppy.

She leaned against the counter and folded her arms, unable to get over just how pathetically adorable he looked despite the obvious discomfort he was in. "Well, gosh, I missed you too. No need to mow me over though," Andy quipped.

A weary glance was her only response.

"Or not." Stepping towards him and crouching low so they were eye to eye, she continued much more sincerely. "How're you feeling?"

"Like someone lit a match on every single one of my nerve endings."

She bit her lip. Clearly, Sam had decided to forgo his whole "I'm fine." shtick, which he had been stoically maintaining since coming home, abandoning it sometime between her walking out the door this morning and walking in just now. "That bad, huh? Here, let me see."

He obliged, albeit rather reluctantly, and shifted his head for her to see his concussion. Satisfied with the wound's appearance, she turned her attention to his bruised fingers, caressing them lightly with her own, ghosted a hand over the tender flesh of his cracked ribs before sneaking a quick peak at his tailbone. "They're definitely healing," she said, trying to soothe him although she couldn't for the life of her tell whether or not they actually looked any better. "How many Vicodin did you have?"

"Not enough."

"Sam."

"Three," he grumbled. "But I might as well be eating candy."

"They don't work?"

"Oh, they work. For about two hours."

A beat. "Do you wanna see the doctor?"

"No. No, I don't wanna see the doctor," he pouted, sounding very much like a little boy.

She smiled softly at his tone. "Well, then there's really nothing more we can do. You're just gonna have to tough it out."

He groaned and buried his head in the crook of his elbow and Andy fought the urge to take him into her arms, knowing that such an action would probably just exacerbate his pain.

"Why don't we ice the break?" she suggested instead. "The doctor said every couple hours right?"

He made an indistinguishable sound which she took as her answer and quickly rose to get the ice pack from the freezer. She made a motion for him to scoot over, sitting down beside him when he did, and watched with mild amusement as he proceeded to lay back down across her lap, his bare chest resting on top of her jean-clad thighs.

"Watch it, McNally!" he barked, flinching when the ice pack touched his skin.

"It's ice. It's gonna sting no matter what."

He scowled but said nothing, once again sticking his nose in the crook of his arm.

"Everyone's asking about you, you know," she said after a moment.

"What do you tell them?"

"That you're at home. Resting. Going stir crazy from the lack of human contact."

"You don't say anything else, right?"

"No." She hesitated slightly before adding, "But Jerry and Oliver found out."

"You have got to be kidding me…"

"Sam, anyone with internet access knows what a coccyx is. And where it is. It was gonna come out eventually."

"Yeah, well with those two it'll be all over the 5:00 news."

At this, she smiled and gave his bottom a gentle pat. "As much as I like your ass, I doubt the rest of Toronto actually cares much about it." A thought struck her then, causing her smile to fade slightly. "Where's your cushion anyway?"

There was a guilty pause.

"Sam," she scolded. "You need to use it. You can't spend the next month either standing up or lying down."

"Yeah, I can," he muttered sulkily.

She shot the back of his head an unhappy glance. "Samuel Swarek."

"Have you seen that thing? It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, that 'thing' is gonna help you."

Burying his head further into his elbow, he let out a heaving groan. "This is such bullshit."

"This is karma. Didn't I tell you that complaining about the Indian summer was gonna come back and get you in the ass?" Literally.

"Whatever," he mumbled into the couch. "I just…I wanna go back to work. I wanna not be in pain. I wanna be able to sit down without having a giant inflatable doughnut under my ass."

Her lips quirked at the adorableness of his very un-Sam-like pouting. "I know you do," she replied, combing her fingers soothingly through his hair. "But maybe you'll keep this little incident in mind the next time you decide to follow a parkour runner up a ladder after it's been raining for three days straight."

He merely gave a defeated sigh then fell silent, having simply run out of energy to keep the conversation going. Several minutes passed as she continued to stroke his hair, the ice pack still laying rather delicately at the very base of his spine just below the waistband of his sweatpants, before she noticed that his breathing had evened out and his body had gone completely slack. She chuckled softly and placed the ice pack in the plastic bag beside her. Leaning forward, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek, noting with a smile the stubble tickling her lips that he was growing increasingly lazy to shave.

"But broken or not," she murmured into his ear. "your ass is still the best one around."

Satisfied with her playful dig, she settled back against the couch and allowed her own eyes to finally give in to sleep, completely missing the small smirk that ghosted across Sam's lips as she did.

A/N: There's a word in my second language that kept popping in my head as I was writing this. "Kawawa" which basically means "You poor thing." or something that's so pathetically sad your heart breaks for them and I was really going for that during that last part haha. Pathetically adorable, kawawa Sam. XD Kudos if you know what language that is.

Anyways, what'd you think? I always love hearing your thoughts. I have a billion other ideas I'd love to get to but with classes starting Monday, it'd be a miracle if I did. So, until my next window of free time! I had a blast writing this summer. :)