TITLE:  In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb (Or, When In Salem...)
AUTHOR:  Ellen Hursh
RATING:  PG-13
KEYWORDS:  KW/LKo romance; angst; a little this-and-that
LAST EPISODE SEEN:  "Kisangani"
TIMELINE:  "Witch Hunt"
ARCHIVE:  If you must.
DISCLAIMER:  ER and all its characters belong to Warner Bros.  No infringement
of their copyright is intended.  This story was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans
everywhere, and may be downloaded for your own pleasure.
SUMMARY:  Fall-out from the previous "episode" leads a doctor to make a major
decision; Mark returns to work; another long-standing question from the readers (both
of them! ^_~) gets answered.
SPOILERS:  Very tangentially, for "The Crossing"/"Witch Hunt". To some extent, anyway.
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS:  Home and Dry; And Miles to Go Before I Sleep;
Through the Hourglass; Jupiter Aligns with Mars; Shopworn; Come As You Aren't; Out
and About; Up in the Air; Serpent's Tooth; Thanks a Lot!; Shall We Dance?; Yes, Sir,
That's My Baby!; Yule-Tied; Should Auld Acquaintance; Running with Scissors; Six White
Flags Over Chicago; Sea Change; My Time Coming; Can't See the Forest for the Trees;
Boys' Night Out/Girls' Night In; Peace of My Heart; In The Midnight Hour
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Thanks, as always, to Miesque for input and feedback.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER:  Mark underwent surgery to remove a brain tumor, and
later submitted to competency testing to gauge his ability to return to work; Dave treated
suicidal teen Shannon Wallace, after she caused a train derailment; Luka and Kerry - who
are expecting a bundle of joy in July - were married by Bishop Stewart, who later died;
oh yeah... and Dave's got a sweetie!


I went into the fight like a lion
But I came out like a lamb.
    --from "Annie Get Your Gun"

"The lion may lie down with the lamb, but the lamb won't get much sleep."
    --Woody Allen


Luka's arm was draped around her waist, his hand splayed over her belly; he stirred as
Kerry quietly moved to get up, and put out a hand to touch her. "Mrm... y're up early.
Thought y'r shift didn't start 'til 'leven?"

"It doesn't. But I have an appointment with Nadira."

"Still seeing her? 'a's g'd." He was conscious for a few more seconds, and then was out
again. She nearly woke him up again to ask him to do her a favor, but he looked so
peaceful that she didn't have the heart to do it.

She showered and dressed quickly - she would barely have time to grab some breakfast
at Doc's before her appointment - and hurried out the door.

* * *

"Mark, are you certain you're ready to go back?" Elizabeth pecked at the bowl of oatmeal in
front of her, and wondered how the stuff would taste with a dollop of ketchup. There was no
way, though, that Mark was going to let her *not* eat the wretched slop.

"My testing's finished up, I got the green light, and Kerry went ahead and put me back on the
schedule for a half-shift. I am *more* than ready to go back to work, by now." She scowled
at his chipper grin.

"Hmph. You're just tired of being stuck in the house with me all day," she accused grouchily,
and he snickered.

"C'mon, sweetie. Enjoy your time off. Soon enough, we're gonna have the baby keeping us busy."
She grumbled again.

"Get dressed and go to work before I *strangle* you, Mark." He laughed again, and kissed the top
of her head.

* * *

"Are you Dr Kerry Weaver?" Kerry looked up from her paperwork at the two police officers who were
standing there only semi-patiently. Oh, great... what had gone wrong around here *this* time?

"Yes, I am. What's the problem?"

"You have a resident here in the emergency department by the name of David A. Malucci, correct?"

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Okay, we just need to ask you a few questions about him." She glared at the two of them.

"You've already asked two. I'm not saying another word until you tell me what's going on," she told them
firmly. The officers exchanged a look.

"Fine," one of them finally said. "But not out here - do you have someplace the three of us can talk privately?
And we're going to want to talk to any of the other employees that we can - especially the people who were
on duty, um," he consulted a little notebook, "February the 23rd."

"There's the employee lounge."

"That'll do."

* * *

They followed her into the lounge, and one of them turned on a little tape recorder that he then set on the
table. "Officers John Schweitzer and Carl Lewis, speaking with Dr Kerry Weaver. Uh... the time is 0741,
February 27, 2001. Now, you're aware that a patient was brought in after the train derailment--"

"Quite a *few* patients were brought in that night," Kerry snapped. She could tell that the baby ("he",
Luka kept insisting, although she was sure he was mistaken) was ready for her to get a little sleep.
Schweitzer (or was it Lewis?) nodded at her patronizingly.

"Yes, yes, Dr Weaver. But this patient in particular, Shannon Wallace - she was the person who'd caused
the derailment. Do you remember her?"

"Vaguely. I started to examine her, and then I was called away. I had Dr Malucci take over."

"And you left him alone with the patient?" Lewis (or was it Schweitzer?) asked, almost eagerly. She
frowned at him.

"Not as far as I know. The nurse who was assisting me - Lily Jarvik - stayed. What is this all about?"

"Ms Wallace has filed charges against Dr Malucci, claiming that he sexually assaulted her while she was in
this hospital's emergency room."

"That's ridiculous! Shannon Wallace was mentally unbalanced - when she attempted suicide, causing a train
derailment, and when she made that accusation!"

"You're qualified to make that psychological assessment?"

"Of course not! But I've seen Dr DeRaad's evaluation, that he did later that night, and I observed Miss Wallace's
words and actions in the aftermath of the train wreck she'd caused."

"The psychiatry department in this hospital was especially short-staffed for a while, isn't that right?"

"I don't see the relevance, but yes. They were short, after a doctor suddenly resigned in November." Lewis
consulted a little notebook.

"Riiight... Dr Kim Legaspi. Wasn't there some kind of..." He trailed off for a moment, then cleared his throat and
hesitated for a moment before he tried again. "I understand that you and Dr Legaspi were, uh, very close for a
while." Kerry simply stared at him for a moment, and then began laughing.

"We were *friends*, yes. Never anything other than that." She wasn't about to go into details with this person... it
wasn't any of their business, and it wasn't fair to Kim.

"Oh. So it *isn't* true, that she's a--" Kerry stood up, and put her arm into the cuff of her crutch.

"What's true, officers, is that you're on a fishing expedition. Unless you have some questions for me that directly
concern your investigation of the charges against Dr Malucci, I'm through talking to you. I'll provide you with the
list of personnel who were on duty that night, but I have nothing more to say to you."

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"Um, Lily Jarvik." She felt like she was back in the principal's office, being called on the carpet for smoking
behind the gym with the other girls.

"You were on duty the night of the 23rd - February 23rd?"

"With the train derailment? Yeah."

"Were you assigned to," the cop paused and pretended to look through his notes, "a patient named Shannon
Wallace?"

"I guess. We got a lot of people that night."

"She was the patient whose car had been hit by the train that derailed."

"Oh, yeah. Somebody said she was trying to kill herself by parking on the tracks."

"So you remember her?"

"Uh... yeah. Yeah. Dr Weaver examined her first, and then handed her off to Dr Malucci."

"So in the time that Dr Malucci was treating Ms Wallace, did you observe him making any inappropriate contact
with her?"

"Not while I was in the room, no. But he asked me to get him some more lidocaine, so he could finish up, and...
uh..." She trailed off, realizing what she'd said, and the cop gestured for her to continue. "Uh, when I came
back in, she was saying 'ow, stop it'."

"And there wasn't another nurse in there with them at the time?" Lily shook her head. "Excuse me?"

"No. No, there wasn't. But I don't think he would ever *force* himself on anybody." The other cop grunted
7noncommittally.

"So he's never... oh... asked anybody out at work?" She shrugged.

"Sure he has. So have most of the single guys who work here. He's always been very polite about being turned
down, though." The cop looked disappointed by Lily's description of Dave as "polite".

"Now, what can you tell us about Dr Weaver?"

"Weaver? Not much. She's been here for the last... uh... six years, but most of us don't know her that well. Why?
What does she have to do with Malucci?"

"We're asking the questions, Miss Jarvik, but Dr Weaver is Dr Malucci's supervisor, and as such his performance
reflects on her management."

"Well... she just got married, to one of the other doctors. He was also on duty the night of the train wreck, in fact."

"Oh?" The cop was already checking the list that Weaver had given him.

"Yeah. Luka Kovac."

* * *

Luka wasn't pleased to get called away from his duties to talk to a couple of cops. "Yeah, I was at the scene of the
derailment. I was the first one to see her."

"At any time, did you observe any interaction between Dr Malucci and Miss Wallace?"

"Huh? No, no. Uh..." he massaged his forehead, trying to stave off the headache he
could feel trying to form. "I treated Miss Wallace in the field, got her ready to be transported here, and moved on to
the next patient. When I returned to County, I, uh, examined a few more patients in the hallway and saw Ke-- Dr
Weaver exit the trauma room where, I later found out, she'd been treating Miss Wallace. She told me that Dr Malucci
had taken over the case. Then I left." He didn't volunteer any details of what he'd done after signing out - his going
upstairs to see Bishop Stewart had, he knew, nothing to do with the case these men were questioning him about.
Besides, it was none of their damned business.

"So what *is* your relationship with Dr Weaver, anyway?" He sighed at the question.

"We got married a couple of weeks ago."

"Huh. You're not from around here, are you?"

"I'm from Idaho," he shot back sarcastically, somehow refraining from rolling his eyes - the police weren't as bad as
some of the ones he'd encountered back home, but it still wasn't, he reckoned, a good idea to provoke them *too*
much. "Croatia," he finally relented.

"So your marriage has nothing to do with, say, any issues you might be having with your residency in this country?"

"No issues, just love. Do you have any more questions for me about *Dr Malucci*, or am I done here?"

"Just one - what has your observation been of Dr Malucci's personal interactions with women?"

"Personal--? I dunno. I haven't noticed." He figured it would probably be a bad idea to mention his feeling that the guy
had a "thing" for his wife.

* * *

"I'm going to lie down for a little while," Kerry told Frank, yawning as she headed for the on-call room. What she *really*
wanted to do was just sign out and go home early, so she could get some proper sleep in her own bed at home. Unfortunately,
those two cops were still prowling around in their search for proof that Dr Malucci was some kind of big bad sexual predator,
and she wasn't about to leave them unsupervised. She also wondered what was up with their questions about Kim... weird.

"You look like you're draggin' a little today, Dr Weaver," he observed - she could've sworn he sounded sympathetic. Even
weirder.

"Yes. That would be why I'm going to lie down," she replied more calmly, and more politely, than she felt. Maybe on her
way home from work she'd stop by the health foods store, and pick up some more herbal tea - this time, some of the blend
with lemon balm and valerian for her nerves.

She sat on the side of the bed and propped her crutch against the table, then took off her glasses and set them on top of the
table... before scooching her butt the rest of the way onto the bed and flopping over on her side. There was a span of a few
seconds where she started to wonder if she'd be able to sleep... then she was out.

* * *

Lewis and Schweitzer simply stared at Dave, who stared back across the table at them. "Dr Malucci. You know why you're
here, I trust."

"Dr Weaver mentioned something about a patient making a complaint," he replied cautiously.

"So. Why'd you do it?" Dave blinked a few times in confusion before answering.

"What did I do?"

"You know damned well what you did to that poor girl!"

"Who are you talking about?" The situation reminded him of a book that his Lit 101 professor in college had been *nuts*
about. Kafka wasn't Dave's favorite author by any means (the guy's writing made for a bad trip, for one thing), but that
book had been *seriously* creepy - it had struck him, at the time, as an exercise in paranoia, but he was starting to really
appreciate the protagonist's situation. Could be worse, he supposed - at least he wasn't turning into a giant bug. In the
meantime, the cops hadn't answered his question - they were sitting there with their arms crossed, glowering at him.

* * *

Frank turned at the sound of the girl hailing him. "Can I help you, miss?" She peered up at him curiously.

"I sure hope so. See, I just bought something on the street that's supposed to be Valium, but I don't trust the guy
I got it from. Could you look at it and tell me if it's really Valium?" He knew he was going to regret asking the
question that was on his mind, but that had to be one of the dumbest questions he'd ever been asked... and that was
including some of the questions he got from med students.

"So why'd ya buy it, if you don't trust the guy?" She gawped at him.

"Are you *kidding*? It was a great deal!"

* * *

Dave fervently hoped that Shannon Wallace would change her story eventually - the cops had seemed not at all averse
to the idea of taking him away then and there, and shooting him in the ambulance bay, but fortunately they'd let him leave
the lounge with a growled warning for him not to leave town. He shook his head, and reached for the next chart in the rack;
maybe a good case would help him get his mind off his troubles... oh, dear lord, the patient's *name*. Oh well... he could try
to fake it, he supposed, and hope that the patient was paying attention for his name. He headed for chairs and read - or tried
to read - the name on the chart aloud.

"Fred Sch... uh..."

"Schirunkael," a heavy-set middle-aged woman piped up, and pointed at the man with her, whose right forearm was wrapped
in a bandage. Fred was an equally midde-aged man, though much more slender than his wife. The t-shirt was a surprising choice
of attire for this time of year, considering the weather, but it was possible that his jacket was out in their car.

"Shirr-uncle. Right. If you'll follow me to Exam 2. And you are?" he asked the woman when she got up to follow them.

"Molly. Fred's my husband. It *is* okay if I go back there with him?"

"As long as your husband doesn't mind?" Fred shrugged.

"Uh... no, no. I don't mind. I prefer it, actually. Keeps my Molly out of trouble, if I can keep an eye on her." He elbowed her
gently, causing her to laugh.

Dave led them to Exam 2, and had Fred sit down on the bed. Molly took a seat in a nearby chair, to hold Fred's hand. Fred
flinched when Dave tossed him a gown. "What-- I don't need this. All I need are stitches for my arm - you can do that with my
shirt on, can't you?" Dave shrugged, and took back the gown when Molly handed it to him.

"Sure, sure. Go ahead and sit down." The dynamic with these two was, he thought, *weird*. He glanced at the slash on
Fred's arm. "That's a nasty cut. How'd you get it?"

"Defending my honor," Molly said promptly, which immediately raised Dave's suspicions.

"Fred? Is that what happened?" He saw Fred's eyes start to flick towards Molly, then pause and come back to him.

"Yeah, that's what happened."

"Okay, you know what? I need to get some extra gauze. Sit tight, I'll be right back." He spotted Mark almost immediately,
and flagged him down. "Hey, boss, I've got a couple in Exam 2. I think the wife is injuring her husband." Mark rubbed at
the scar on his head for a moment.

"Is that what *he* says?"

"No, but there's something weird about them. Can't I call the police for him or something?"

"Dave, if we called the police every time there was something 'weird' about one of our patients, they'd never have time to
do anything else. He has to want help - see if you can get the wife out of the room, and talk to him privately."

"Sure thing, boss." Dave headed back into the exam room, and was startled to see that Fred had his t-shirt rucked up to his
armpits, with Molly examining another set of bandages around his chest. "Hey!" Fred dropped the shirt back down when
Dave called out, and the two of them looked alarmed. "You didn't tell me you had *another* injury under there!"

"It's not an injury," Fred protested. "It's, um--"

"It's private," Molly cut in firmly. "Can't you just, you know, pretend you didn't see that, and stitch him up?"

"Look, if there's some kind of abuse going on, I can't--"

Fred and Molly exchanged a glance - they seemed to be conducting some kind of silent debate. Finally Fred turned to
Dave, and took a deep, fortifying breath. "My name is Winifred--"

"Winifred."

"Yes, Winifred. Winnie for short. I'm a woman." Dave stared at them, as the penny dropped. Okay, it wasn't like that
was the weirdest thing he'd ever seen here.

"So... that 'bandage' on your chest."

"Breast binding. Yeah." Fred's - or rather, Winnie's - demeanor had changed subtly, and now she looked like a butch
woman instead of a thin man. Molly just looked unhappy with the situation.

"What's with this disguise? Transv--"

"No, I'm not a crossdresser. Molly came up with it as a way that we could be public without being... *public*."

"*Oh*. You're her partner." Winnie eyed him coolly, gauging his reaction.

"Yeah. I originally agreed to do it 'cause Molly's parents didn't approve of the idea of their little girl being 'Dutch'. We
got around a wedding by telling them that we'd 'eloped'."

"And the cut on your arm?" Molly broke into the conversation.

"That was from Winnie insisting on going out as herself earlier. She really *was* defending my honor - some kid made a
comment about the two 'dykes' and she tried to confront him."

"He objected to getting a lesson in manners," Winnie added wearily. "So *now* can you stitch me up, please?"

"Uh, sure. Set your arm down there," he directed, and laid the drape over Winnie's cut. The process was quick, and Winnie
soon had a new bandage covering her stitched-up cut. "Come back for suture removal in ten days to two weeks... sooner, if
it starts looking infected. That is, it starts getting red, or red streaks start appearing." Winnie examined her arm, inspecting
the bandage.

"Looks good. Do you think it'll scar?" Dave shook his head.

"Aah. Not too badly, since you got *me* to stitch it up. You'll probably just have a little white line, okay?"

As they were talking, Molly stared out the window of the door, right at Mark, who was giving the three of them in Exam 2
a curious look. "Hey, doc. I think you forgot your gauze." Dave winced - he'd forgotten to grab a package on his way back in!

"Molly, he meant well," Winnie protested. "Look, maybe we should give up this pretense. That's what made him suspicious in
the first place. Am I right, doctor?"

"Uhm... yeah," Dave said uncomfortably. He hated the thought of getting dragged into the middle of this argument. "I'll just,
uh, give you this wound care sheet for when you get home..." Winnie took the folded piece of paper from him and tucked it
into the pocket of her jeans. "I gotta have an attending look your arm over real quick, and then you can go. But that's it."

"Thank you, doctor, for all your help." Winnie settled back into her role as "Fred", and shook Dave's hand.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Molly snapped.

* * *

Mark was still waiting just outside Exam 2. "So what's the story with them?"

"Just, uh, cultural differences. His arm is all ready for you to look at, and I already gave him instructions for home care."

"Okay. I'm glad that you're looking out for your patients, Dave."

"Oh. Thanks, boss." He handed over the chart, and watched Mark go into the exam room. God knew, *he* sure wasn't in any
position to judge "Fred" and Molly. He made his way over to the desk, where Frank had just hung up on what had apparently
been a deaf and/or drunk caller. "Frank, have you seen the Chief?"

"Dr Weaver? She said she was gonna lie down for a little while." He turned away from Dave to answer the phone again.

* * *

He opened the door to the on-call room as quietly as possible, and shut it behind him. There was a little light from the hallway
coming through the window, enough for him to spot Dr Weaver sprawled out on the bed. Ooh, she snored! He paused for a
moment to choke back a snicker, then advanced.

"Chief? Chief, wake up. I gotta talk to you. Please." She groaned, and slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. She should have, she
thought muzzily, gone home after all, and left the police to their dirt-digging.

"This had better be good, Dave," she muttered. "What do you want?"

"Uh, it's about the thing with Shannon Wallace. It's just... well... you *know* I didn't do it, right?" She squinted at him wearily,
and groped for her glasses; he plucked them off the bedside table and put them in her hand, and she put them on to look at him
more clearly.

"Dr Malucci, I know that you are frequently tactless, sometimes lazy when you think I'm not paying attention, and even a pig at
times, but I have never seen anything about your behavior that even suggests that Ms Wallace's accusations have any basis in
reality. Unfortunately, that isn't going to be enough to convince the police, unless she recants her story after getting treatment.
I'm appalled that this has even gone *this* far, in fact!"

"So you believe me." His relief showed in his voice and his posture.

"Why shouldn't I? You *didn't* do it, right?" She was a little appalled to see Dave begin to squirm a little. "*Malucci*...."

"No! I mean, I uh... I don't... I *couldn't* have. If you know what I mean." Her eyes narrowed at him.

"No, I don't think I do."

"Uh, I've been seein' somebody. We're pretty serious... I mean, I *think* we're serious. *I* am, anyway." Kerry's eyes lit up when
she heard that; she'd wondered what kind of girl could hold the interest of someone like Dave, who sometimes seemed to have the
attention span of a toddler after an espresso binge.

"Dave, that's wonderful! Who is she? Bring her in, and she can vouch for your character."

"Uh, that's the thing. I've, uh, I mean, I'm involved with... uh... dkradgbln..." He trailed off, and tried to look everywhere but at Kerry.

"Dave. I can't help you if you won't tell me who your girlfriend is, so I can talk to her." He turned bright red, and gulped. "Are
you dating a student? Is *that* why you've been reluctant to be public about your relationship?"

"Uh, no. 'She' is *not* a student." Kerry gave him the Stare of Death.

"Dave, I am *not* in the mood to play Twenty Questions. With whom are you having a relationship?"

"I, uh, I can't tell you his name. I- I mean, he's not publicly 'out'. I don't want to guilt-trip him into it, and I'm not gonna blow his
cover. He's worked too hard, for me to do that to him." Dave watched as the gears slowly clicked into place behind Dr Weaver's eyes.

"Oh. *Oh*. Then you understand that I have no other choice but to suspend you while the investigation is carried out, unless Ms
Wallace changes her story before then?" Dave nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm sorry. I wish there were some other way."

"Me too, Chief." Inspiration struck her as Dave was standing up to leave.

"Wait. Dave, do you know Maggie Doyle? She did part of her residency here, and transferred to Mercy just before her last year.
The last I heard, she's still there as an attending. You and your, uh, partner should go talk to her about your situation."

"'Situation'?"

"Of being a gay doctor. I didn't know her very well, aside from pursuing a sexual harassment complaint on her behalf, but I
think she could give you some good advice about being out at work." He rubbed at his neck awkwardly.

"Hm. I'll think about it, Chief. Thanks."

"Do your parents know? About you and your... boyfriend?"

"Nah. They've never... you know... *understood* about homosexuals. My dad even told me once that he'd shoot me, if he
ever found out that I was gay. I, uh, felt them out on the subject, when I was sixteen, and then I decided that I'd just been
going through a phase and pushed that side of myself down, and forced myself to get *really* interested in women. Figured
I'd succeeded, until I recently ran into *him* again for the first time since... uh, in a while."

"I'm sorry to hear that. About your parents." Dave shrugged.

"Don't be. It wasn't really a surprise, y'know?" She suspected she *did* know - not all parents were as understanding about
a child turning out to be gay as Mom and Dad had been about Monica.

"We have some excellent people in Psych, if you ever need to--" He broke into her spiel - she was a nice person sometimes,
but she didn't always know when to shut up.

"Chief. *Please*."

"Okay. You should go hand off your patients, sign out, and go home."

"Yep. Maggie Doyle, at Mercy, right?" She nodded, and he left her alone in the room with her thoughts. Wow... David
Malucci was about the *last* person she would've expected to be gay. Then again, while he'd always been quick to flirt
with women, he'd been equally quick to accept rejection gracefully.

She sighed and lay back down, though she didn't get any more sleep - her pager went off about five minutes after Dave
had left.

* * *

"Hey, Dr Weaver, is it true?"

"Is *what* true, Malik?" He stared at her oddly, and shook his head.

"Never mind, Dr Weaver. Where do you want Mr Maharassa?"

* * *

Dave carried his bike up the stairs to his lover's apartment, and dug in his pocket for the spare key he'd been given.
"Honey, I'm ho-ome," he called out in his best impression of a '50s TV dad.

"Hey, sweetie." Nick put down the pages of rental listings he'd been perusing, and looked up as Dave came in the door.
"I thought your shift wasn't over for another few hours?"

"Long boring story." He hesitated for a few seconds before speaking again. "Nick, I talked to the Chief - Dr Weaver -
today. She thinks it would be a good idea for us to talk with a woman she knows at Mercy."

"You talked to Dr Weaver about us?" Nick immediately regretted the panic in his voice.

"*I* came out to her, yeah. But I didn't mention your name, so *you* don't have to worry," Dave said, more sharply
than he'd intended.

"I'm sorry. C'mon. Bore me with that long story, okay?" So Dave told Nick all about the case with Shannon Wallace, and
the accusations that the young woman had made against him, ending with his declaration that he didn't want Nick to come
out simply from feelings of guilt.

"I don't want you to end up resenting me," Dave explained somberly, and Nick stroked his cheek affectionately.

"As if. I'm supposed to be an adult, I guess I should start *acting* like an adult." He looked in the phone book, then picked
up the phone and dialed the number he found for Mercy's emergency department.

* * *

"Hey, Maggie! Phone call."

"Thanks, Paul." She picked up. "This is Dr Doyle."

"Maggie Doyle?" Nick clarified.

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Uh, Kerry Weaver at County gave me your name as someone to talk to about being an 'out' doctor."

"I see. And you are?"

"Well, I've been doing temp work at County, and my partner - a resident there - and I need to know how to go about, you
know, *doing* that."

"Doing what?"

"We need to know the, uh, ins and outs of coming out at work as a gay doctor."

"Uh huh." Her tone invited him to continue.

"Because, uh, my parter is gay." He heard a long pause on the other end, and stumbled on. "And... I'm gay, too."

"Is this the first time you've ever said that out loud?"

"I guess it is."

"You did fine. For the most part, it gets easier from there. Look, my shift ends in about 20 minutes."

"Oh. Uh, would you have time to meet with us then? We can buy you a drink, if you like, or something."

"Sure, sure. Do you know a bar called Wonton?"

"On the corner of Dearborn and Clark? Yeah. It's pretty close."

"Great, okay. I'll meet you there in about thirty minutes, then."

"Thanks. We'll see you there. Bye." He hung up, and turned to Dave with a ragged little sigh. "C'mon. She's
agreed to talk to us over beers."

"A woman after my own heart," Dave cracked. "So to speak, of course," he added hastily. Nick dragged him into
a bear hug, and lavished noogies on his head.

* * *


"You're either the guys who called me at work earlier, or you're auditioning for the world's worst remake of Starsky &
Hutch. Maggie Doyle." Dave looked up at the brunette who'd stopped at their table - she looked and sounded an awful
lot like that girl on CSI.

"Dave Malucci. This is Nick Dennison, my... partner," he added, nodding at the blond man with him. "Thanks for
agreeing to meet us." Maggie smirked as she joined them. Nick looked really uncomfortable to be there - she wondered
if maybe he was worried about being seen in the company of <gasp!> a known homosexual (in whimsical hindsight,
she supposed that wearing her "I'm not a lesbian, but my girlfriend is" t-shirt would probably have been too much for
the situation).

"As if I'd pass up free beer?" She winked at the waitress, and cheerfully ordered a Heineken. "So. You two are
thinking about coming out at work, huh?"

"Do you think we should?" She shrugged.

"I think you should do it because *you* feel comfortable doing it, not because I say so or because somebody else says
so. And I won't lie to you.  Being out as a doctor can be really, really rough sometimes." Nick nodded solemnly.
"Thanks, hon," she said as the waitress brought her drink.

"I know. The profession's very homophobic." Maggie chortled, and took a swig of her beer.

"Yeah, and it's packed with queers! Funny, that. On the other hand, being out means freedom. You don't have to be
worried all the time that somebody's gonna make your secret public, you don't have to worry about playing the pronoun
game when you're talking about your partner..."

"In other words, you would recommend it."

"Damn straight, so to speak. Look, I was once where you are now - in the closet, and afraid of what other people
would think. Finally I just said 'fuck it', and treated it like I always have the rest of my life: no apologies for who and
what I am. But, I'm also smart enough to be careful."

"You mean like not kissing your partner in public?" Maggie waved away Nick's question.

"Pff. Hets do it all the time. Anyhow, any affection my partner and I show each other in public is *way* more discreet
than the spit-swapping I see going on around me every day."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I think the nurses have a pool going, as to when Dr Weaver's going to be caught doin' Dr
Kovac right there in the lounge." Maggie sputtered slightly when she heard the second name.

"Kovac-- *Luka* Kovac?"

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Sure I do. He moonlighted at Mercy a few times - he's a great guy. And *Weaver's* with him, huh? Well, go Kerry!" She
raised her bottle in an ironic salute, and Dave shook his head bemusedly.

"Huh. So, uh, you got any suggestions for how to go about it? Coming out, I mean?" Maggie grinned wickedly, and
drained her beer.

"Well, there's always email. CC *everybody*, and all that. Or, uh, the hospital newsletter. Telling it to the local gossip, in
the *strictest* of confidence," she winked sarcastically at them, and Nick laughed nervously, "might be a little faster. "But
seriously. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the people you work with have picked up on *something* from you, even if
they don't know what it is. Look, I know some lawyers who work with the Gay and Lesbian Defense Fund. Give me a call
if you run into problems - stuff like your shifts suddenly being changed unreasonably, reprimands, that kind of thing - and
I'll set you up with them." Nick laughed.

"I wish I'd known you ten years ago, Maggie. Would've been nice to at least have *support* in escaping the closet." Dave
elbowed him suddenly.

"Hey! If you'd been out ten years ago, you'd be hooked up with somebody *else* by now."

"Oh, sure. Don't you believe in soulmates?" He grabbed Dave before the younger man could come up with another
smart-ass retort, and kissed him soundly as Maggie watched, amused.

"Ah, young love," she quipped as she gathered her coat and scarf. "Guys, it's been a pleasure. You still have my number,
right?"

"You bet. Thanks, Maggie."

"No problem." She shook hands with both of them, and strolled out the door.

"I like her," Dave said reflectively. "When we find our new place, we should invite her to the housewarming. Speaking of
which...?"

"Well, I found some listings that look promising. Since you've been suspended, we can go check out some of them tomorrow."

* * *

"Hey, you beat me home." Kerry had already taken off her shoes and loosened the waistband of her slacks, and was stretched
out on her couch, but she propped herself up on her elbows halfway when she heard Luka's entrance.

"There are *some* advantages to taking the El, like less traffic."

"Yeah, but I like your company on the way home." He paused only a few steps into the room. "Do you mind if I have a drink?"
She smiled.

"After a day like today, I think *I'd* be having a drink if I weren't pregnant. So the police talked to you?"

"Oh yes they did." He groaned as he headed for the cabinet where the liquor was stored. Hm... maybe today was a good day for
scotch. Or tequila, perhaps. "Not really something I want to do again any time soon."

"Nor do I." She hesitated a moment. "Dave came to see me at some point after he was questioned."

"Yeah?" She heard a >clink< as he got out a glass and set it on the counter.

"He just wanted to ask me if it would help that he's seeing someone." Luka whistled softly.

"He said that he had a girlfriend, but I wasn't sure if I should take him seriously!" Kerry didn't want to keep a secret from her
husband, of all people, but she also wasn't sure whether or not Dave had intended to "come out", once and for all. Calling
Maggie Doyle had only been a *suggestion*, after all.

"Um, yeah. Unfortunately, he didn't think that his, uh, girlfriend would be in a position to vouch for his character." His head
poked around the corner at that.

"As long as that girlfriend isn't *you*, Kerry." She smiled at his distinctly disapproving tone.

"No, dear." She sat up as he returned, glass in hand, and made room for him next to her.

"Mrm. You didn't have to move."

"I know, but I like you to sit with me." She patted the cushion next to her, to emphasize her point.

"Okay. Thank you." He set the glass down on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch, then reached for his drink.
"Do you think the police are done, or will they be lurking around County for a while longer?"

"I don't know. I don't remember if everybody who was on that night was working today." He chuckled softly.

"*You* don't know? You're slipping."

"Maybe. Most of the time, I find, I don't really care about that crap anymore."

"Kind of a change for you, huh?" She shrugged.

"It'll definitely be a change, once the new chief arrives to take over."

"You still haven't heard yet who has the job?"

"No. And I'm trying not to think about that."

"I guess I'm trying not to think about it, either," he said, gulping down the last of his drink. The alcohol quickly had him
feeling pretty mellow, and he shifted his body around on the couch so that he could rest his head in her lap... or at least,
what was left of her shrinking lap. On the other hand, he reflected, her bigger belly meant an interesting change in the
way she sat - he wasn't about to complain. He slipped a hand onto her leg, and began exploring the parts of her thigh that
were within easy reach.

"We've been lucky," she mused as she stroked his hair, and he sighed.

"No, no, no. Words like 'lucky' make me nervous."

"Superstitious?" He shrugged, and continued to massage her inner thigh.

"Maybe a li'l."

"Are you drunk, or just sleepy?"

"Yeah." She couldn't see him smile, but it was plain from the sound of his voice that he was doing so.

"Just so you keep in mind that I can't carry you to bed. I can't even *drag* you." He turned and raised himself up
gingerly on his elbows, swaying slightly, and she could see that he was giving her his very best naughty grin.

"Don't you dare even try. Too much for you, even without--" he patted her tummy gently... if a bit woozily.

"Okay, then. Move over a little bit, so I can put my legs up. Umph... a little more *that* way - raise up - yeah." When
they'd finished shifting around, he was lying half on top of her, with their bodies carefully intertwined and his face
nestled comfortably between her breasts and her shoulder and massaging her belly as he muttered something in Croatian
that was clearly directed towards the baby - Kerry thought she could make out him promising to love and spoil the child
once she (though Luka persisted in referring to it as a boy) came along. Weeellll... she'd see about the spoiling part, but
there would, she knew, be no question about the love.

Her last thought before falling asleep, as she absently flexed her fingers through his hair,  was of how much her life had
changed for the better since last January. That, and wondering if they'd eventually move to the bedroom in time for the
alarm to wake them.


POST-OP NOTES: 

* So, now you know who Dave's mystery date was. What can I say... Dave pinged my gaydar *way* more than Kerry
ever has. Congratulations to Fat Cat for figuring it out.

* The comment about medicine being a homophobic profession that's "packed with queers" was stol-- er, "borrowed" from
a thread on soc.bi

* And it's not just your imagination: I cut the basement wrestlers. What can I say... the entire plotline both bored and
annoyed me. (Then again, "bored and annoyed" nicely describes my feelings about Season 7 in general. Mileage
varies.)


< Back to "In the Midnight Hour"                                    Forwards to "Infamy!" >