TITLE: My Time Coming
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING: R-ish
KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; angst; medical; etc.
LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Lockdown"
TIMELINE: "Thy Will Be Done"
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.
SONG: "Estimated Prophet", written by Bob Weir & John Barlow and
performed by the Grateful Dead
CROATIAN: Check Ceindreadh's story "Sensory Overload" for a
translation. ;-)
SUMMARY: Kerry's back on the chain gang; Dave's dazed and confused;
Carter's goin' to a go-go.
SPOILERS: For "Thy Will Be Done"... more or less.
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
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to the a.t.e.c. folks for assistance with a
Randi-type question. :-) And thanks, as always, to Miesque for feedback
and input.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER: Mark underwent experimental surgery after being
diagnosed with a brain tumor; Kerry took a week off after her former
mentor, Gabe Lawrence, killed himself in front of her; moonlighter Nick
Dennison returned to substitute for Mark.
My time coming, anyday, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
--Grateful Dead, "Estimated Prophet"
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future....
--Steve Miller, "Fly Like an Eagle"
Yosh goggled at the sight of Mark Greene approaching, his jacket in
hand. "Dr Greene! You're not back already, are you?"
"No. I just had my final radiation treatment, and now I'm on my way
home. After I ace my *competency* testing in a couple of weeks," he
added with just a hint of bitterness, "*then* I'll be back."
"Oh. Well, we've missed you around here."
"Thanks, Yosh. It's good to hear that from *somebody*. Tell me, though:
why's the department looking a little... I don't know... out of order?
Kerry hasn't been letting things slide lately, has she?" Yosh frowned
bemusedly.
"You didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Dr Weaver's been out the last week." Off Mark's puzzled glance, Yosh
continued. "After what happened with Dr Lawrence? You *had* to have seen
it on the news, or in the paper - didn't Dr Corday say anything?" Mark
shrugged, and shook his head.
"I haven't been following anything much more complicated than basketball
scores and the comics section of the Sun-Times, for the last month or
so. And I think Elizabeth's trying not to worry me or stress me out -
she doesn't say much about what goes on around here. What happened with
Dr Lawrence? He didn't go running around naked in public or something,
did he?" Mark wondered why Yosh looked slightly green at his joke.
"No, he shot himself. Right over there, actually." He pointed at the
spot where it had happened. Even though Housekeeping had gone over the
floor and wall pretty thoroughly - after the police had finished with
the scene, of course - some of the staff who'd been on that night swore
they could still see red stains. "He did it right in front of Dr Weaver.
She looked pretty shaken up, afterwards."
"Oh." Mark felt supremely ashamed of himself, and very, very small. "I
didn't know," he added unnecessarily. "How's she doing?"
"Dr Kovac says she's doing all right. She's supposed to return today, in
fact."
"That's good. Uh, I'll see you later."
"Take care, Dr Greene." Yosh waved after the departing doctor, then
returned to work.
* * *
"Looks like you're going to need a few stitches in that cut."
"No way! I don't *like* needles!" Nick somehow managed to keep from
smirking at the way the young man's face had gone dead white at the
suggestion of some minor sutures - this was a fun, if chaotic, place to
work.
"Uh huh. You don't like needles. That's why you have all those tattoos,
three earrings in each ear, a nose-ring, and that... *thing* in your
tongue? Because you don't like needles?" The man rolled his eyes, and
sighed as he proffered his arm with obvious reluctance, turning his head
and squeezing his eyes shut.
* * *
Kerry crutched into the lounge, feeling a little unsteady on her feet,
but she chalked that up to nerves. She was, after all, returning to the
place where her ailing mentor had recently killed himself. Luka had
finally managed to badger her into making an appointment with Nadira
for later today. At least she liked the woman. They would probably never
be the best of friends, and she didn't like the idea of being face to
face for an extended time with a woman who was part of his past -
especially part of his sexual past - but she'd been trying to keep her
mind focused on the fact that *she* was part of his *present*. His
present and - ideally - his future.
She spotted Nick opening Dave's locker as she came in, and must have
made a small confused noise - he turned abruptly and smiled at her. "Oh,
hi. Welcome back. Uh, Dave offered to share, so I'd have someplace to
put my coat." She returned his smile as he held up the jacket he'd just
retrieved in preparation for going home.
"I'm sorry. I should have found something for you, like I did when you
were filling in over the summer."
"Yeah, but that meant giving me Carter's locker. I don't think Mark
would be happy to come back and find that *his* locker's been
reassigned." He left unspoken the thought that had been on the minds of
a lot of people: at least Mark was going to be able to return
eventually, which was more than any of them had seriously expected, not
too long ago.
"Still, I wish we had an extra locker to offer you." He shrugged, and
shook his head.
"Nah, this is fine. Um... I'm sorry to hear about Dr Lawrence. How are
*you* doing?" She smiled wryly as she shucked off her coat and hung it
in her locker, trading it for her labcoat and stethoscope.
"Feeling like I'll scream if one more person asks me that? Seriously,
I'm... coping."
"I'm glad to hear that," he told her with a quick sympathetic grin.
"It's good to have you back. And I'm not just saying that because the
place goes to hell when you're not around." He shut Dave's locker, but
leaned against the bank of lockers comfortably, waiting for her to finish.
"You do know that I'll be stepping down in a few months, don't you?" He
groaned, and rolled his eyes.
"I was hoping that was just an ugly rumor. But then, with luck Mark will
be back well before then, and I won't have to worry."
"I'm sure the next chief will be very capable." She'd heard that Robert
had been interviewing candidates, including one who he and the rest of
the committee had interviewed via speaker-phone, due to an inability to
get to Chicago in the short span of time available to take off from
work. That Robert had made that kind of unusual allowance was, she
thought, indication that this candidate probably had the inside track on
the job.
"You've set a pretty good example for your successor; it'll be hard for
him - or her - to measure up." Kerry frowned thoughtfully.
"As long as she - or he - *does*. I'm giving up the job, but I don't
like the idea of the new chief letting things slide so much that I wind
up having to step in."
"I'm sure Luka will restrain you - by force, if necessary - from doing
that." She playfully made a show of brandishing her crutch at him, and
they both laughed.
* * *
Dave couldn't help thinking about Bingo the clown, who'd been the
entertainment at his sixth birthday party. Everybody had thought it was
so funny when Bingo pretended to chase him around with a knife, but
little Dave had been so terrified when Bingo finally caught him, that
he'd puked right on the clown's oversized shoes. Even now, nearly
twenty-five years later, he couldn't stand cake and ice cream. Everybody
had assumed, last year at the Valentine's Day party, that he didn't have
any of the cake because of the weird color, but that hadn't been it at all.
Otherwise, he'd managed to forget about the incident until the
paramedics had brought in a clown with a balloon stuck in his airway.
He'd made a lame excuse to get Carter to take the guy instead - even the
infected hemorrhoids he had to agree to take in exchange were a damned
sight better than having to deal with his worst nightmare.
* * *
Carter emerged from Trauma One, stripping off his gear and trying not to
think of the dead clown in there. Poor guy... one minute, trying to make
a giraffe, and the next minute choking to death on rubber. The
paramedics had told him that part of the delay in getting the clown here
seemed to be that some of the parents had held off calling 911 until
they'd got pictures and video footage of the choking clown. What kind of
sickos did something so awful? Randi derailed his train of thought with
a pink message slip thrust imperiously in his general direction.
"Carter! Some girl called, said she's got the flu and can't make it
tonight." He groaned.
"Great. That's just great. Where am I supposed to get a date at *this*
late time?" Chuny startled him by speaking up as she passed him in the
direction of the desk.
"Just ask somebody! Fortune favors the brave, you know." He wrinkled his
brow a little at that.
"Your grandmother used to say that?" Chuny smirked at him.
"Nope. I got it off 'Buffy'."
"Oh. So how about it, Chuny?" She smirked again, and shook her head.
"Sorry, Carter. I got other plans for tonight."
He glanced hopefully in Randi's direction - he doubted that Gamma and
Gramps would be particularly impressed by the woman, but at least she
was attractive - but she snapped "Don't look at *me*," before he could
even open his mouth.
* * *
"You're late," Kerry told Luka sweetly. He smiled smugly, and leaned
down to murmur in her ear.
"Sorry. I had a *little* trouble waking up on time. You're gonna *kill*
me, you know, one of these nights - I forgot how energetic the second
trimester makes a woman." She sniffed haughtily, but couldn't help
grinning as she reached up to kiss him.
"And *you* love every minute of it. At least my turtleneck was clean -
my neck is a *mess* today." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously at her,
and silently accepted the chart she handed him before moving off to deal
with the patient. She turned, and realized that Randi had been watching
them intently. "Uh, is there something you need, Randi?" Randi jumped
slightly, startled by being caught watching them, and cleared her throat.
"No, no. It's just... really cool, seeing you so happy. You're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm... okay, Randi. Thanks for asking."
"And the wedding is still on?"
"If you're worried about getting the rest of the payment..." Randi
frowned, then got up and went over to Kerry, so that they were face to
face - or at least face to shoulder, with the height advantage Randi had
- and she could speak quietly.
"No. I'm worried about you throwing away another chance to be happy."
Off Kerry's startled look, she continued. "You may not have noticed, but
you are a strong lady and I've seen that put off guys who can't handle
it. And the ones who *aren't* put off by it, well... it seems like you
do your best to scare them off."
"Oh?" Kerry raised an eyebrow and drew herself up to her full height, in
what she knew was a vain attempt to intimidate Randi. She supposed that
was one of the things she liked about the desk clerk - *nobody*
intimidated Randi Fronczak, not even Robert Romano - but it was also
occasionally irritating. Randi blew and popped a bubble on her
ever-present gum before answering calmly.
"I was around when you had your 'thing' with that Ellis West guy a
couple years back, remember? I don't wanna see that happen with you and
Dr Kovac."
"Randi, I assure you that I have no intention of 'scaring' Dr Kovac -
Luka - away, all right?" She turned away to reach for a chart, then
paused a moment to look back over her shoulder with a little grin.
"Besides, there's probably a pool on when we're supposed to break up -
why would I give 'em the satisfaction?" Randi just rolled her eyes as
Kerry limped away.
* * *
Steve Flint finished examining another batch of x-rays and made notes,
then took off his glasses and rubbed his face with a weary sigh. He
vastly preferred the solitude of radiology to having to deal with
actual, live patients, but sometimes he thought if he had to look at
another feeding tube placement, or upper GI series, or even another
friggin' herniated disc, he'd go nuts. He groaned, and reached for
another film. God, everybody in this place wanted their stuff read
*yesterday*, but nobody in admin wanted to give his department more
money so he could hire a couple more people to help him. There was a
knock on the door, and he briefly considered ignoring it - probably just
another person here to scream at him about wanting something read - then
sighed. "It's open."
"Hey, Steve." He smiled cautiously at Janet Coburn; he hadn't really
spoken to her since the meeting a couple of weeks ago when she'd kicked
him under the table. Those shoes of hers *hurt*!
"Hey, Janet. What can I do for you?" She perched casually on the edge of
his desk, and he could see that she was holding a small baggie of grapes
that she was munching on. She held out the baggie, offering him some,
but he politely declined.
"Oh... I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing." She idly tapped
her fingers on the desk, near his hand.
"Uh... huh." Steve wasn't the most perceptive of people these days when
it came to flirting - which, he knew, was part of why he hadn't been
laid in three years - but even he could see that Janet didn't seem to be
here on a business call.
"Tell me, Steve. I'm curious. At that meeting... were you serious when
you said that you've been celibate for three years?" The question
startled him.
"Maybe. I say a lot of things. Why do you wanna know?" She grinned at
him then - a rather wolfish grin, he thought with some alarm - and
patted his hand.
"I *really* can't believe nobody's snapped you up yet, Steve." She eased
herself from her desktop perch and settled carefully into his lap, where
she proceeded to kiss him. After a moment of being startled by her
ultra-direct approach, he responded enthusiastically. Janet was a woman
who, due to her tall stature and penchant for wearing scrubs, *looked*
like she ought to be bony, but instead she made a delightfully cuddly
armful.
When she made a foray under his shirt, though, he grumbled in
mock-protest. "C'mon, Janet," he quipped, "I'm not that kind of a boy."
"Maybe that's your problem," she informed him mock-seriously. "Come on,
live a little."
"Um... I don't have..." Janet dipped into the pocket of her labcoat, and
came out with a handful of condoms. "Oh. I guess you came prepared,
didn't you?"
"I'm chief of OB, Steve. I do know how to prevent 'em, not just deliver
'em." He chuckled, and playfully nipped at her earlobe.
"Okay, okay. You've convinced me."
* * *
Randi flashed a big smile for the handsome elderly man who approached
her at the desk; she recognized him as the bishop Dr Kovac had treated
only a few weeks ago. "Hi!"
"Oh! Good afternoon. I'm looking for Dr Kovac - is he here today?"
"He sure is, Bishop. How are you doing today?"
"I've been better, Miss..."
"Call me Randi," she invited, with one of her trademark cheeky grins.
She knew perfectly well that he was, as a priest, strictly off-limits...
but darn it, he was a good-looking guy. Besides, he didn't seem to mind
her flirting... much. "I'll let him know you're here. Ooh, speak of the
devil-- I mean, uh, Dr Kovac!" She made an excited bouncing motion as
she semaphored to get Luka's attention.
He tried to ignore her hail when he saw who was with her, but it was
clearly too late for that. He sighed and went to the desk with a
half-hearted smile. "Where's your cane?" he demanded.
"Oh, that. I must have forgotten it." Luka's smile - what little of it
there was - disappeared completely, and he plucked a cane from a nearby
rack and thrust it at Stewart.
"Here. Use it. What's the problem?" Randi studied their interplay
curiously - once again, they'd forgotten that she was there.
Interesting... she wasn't used to men forgetting about her presence.
Straight men were usually looking at *her*, and the less-than-straight
men were often more interested in her RandiWear outfits than in her, but
it was pretty rare for them to tune her out *altogether*.
"My prescription ran out. I need more sala- solo- steroids." Luka knew
he was probably doing what the nurses thought he didn't know they
referred to as "active brooding". Some people, though....
"We'll need to run more tests first." Stewart nodded a trifle uncertainly.
"Ah. You know, my blood sugar might be a little high."
"You really should go to your own doctor for this." Stewart shrugged.
"I don't like him. I prefer your care." Luka gritted his teeth and
turned to Randi.
"Is anything even open?"
"Exam 4 is free and clear for your medical convenience," she informed
him with a bright, chirpy smile that made him a little nervous.
* * *
It was weird, walking into the office that had once been Kim's - the
furniture was the same, but the furnishings were so *different*. Books
all over the place, instead of the toys that Kim had liked, with the
only dash of frivolity a colorful banner draped across a couple of
filing cabinets behind the desk.
"Hi, Kerry." Nadira was gesturing at the seat with her chopsticks even
as Kerry's rump settled into it. She had a plate of what looked like
Chinese takeaway in front of her, and she was contentedly munching away.
"Nadira." She coughed softly, to try to cover up the way her stomach was
growling at the smell of Nadira's dinner.
"You're the only one I haven't met with yet, of the people who were
on... uh... the night..." Kerry raised an eyebrow at Nadira's reluctance
to say it.
"The night Gabe Lawrence killed himself in front of me?" Nadira smiled
in acknowledgment.
"Yes. How have you been doing since then?"
"Well... I've, uh, been a little depressed, I guess. But never enough to
actually hurt myself." Nadira nodded.
"Good. I'm glad you're all right in *that* sense. Luka told me that
you're expecting. When are you due?"
"Oh. Uh... some time in July." She paused a moment. "Your... you had..."
It was Nadira's turn to smile at Kerry's unwillingness to ask.
"My baby? After everything *they* put me through to make me pregnant...
it's ironic. It died at some point, and there was an infection. By the
time it was discovered, everything had to come out."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Have you and your partner ever considered adoption?"
Nadira shrugged.
"We can talk about that some other time. Meanwhile, we're here to talk
about *you*." Kerry half-smiled, and glanced around the room in an
effort to avoid eye contact.
"Doug would never have believed that I might be reluctant to talk about
myself - he didn't think I knew about his 'Kerry and the sound of her
own voice: a love story' cracks," she added grimly.
"But I prefer not to give people ammunition by letting them know too
much about me, or even let them get too close to me."
"Because then they could hurt you." Kerry stared at her hands in her
lap, and rubbed them together idly.
"You're the psychiatrist. Isn't it obvious?" Nadira chuckled softly.
"Humor me, eh? What do you think?"
"I think it's amazing that I've managed to go this long with Luka,
without sabotaging our relationship. Our desk clerk, down in the ER--
she's been here almost as long as I have, so she's had a lot of time to
observe me. That's what she does, in between doing her job and working
on the clothing she designs as a sideline: she observes people. Quietly,
at least for her, so it's not really obvious how much she sees. Anyway,
she commented earlier today about how I'd 'scared off' a man I was
involved with, about three years ago." Nadira idly slipped a piece of
cucumber into her mouth and crunched it thoughtfully.
"Mm-hm. What happened with him?"
"He... was with a company that provided management coverage services to
hospitals. They would've taken over-- well, a lot of the administrative
aspects of the ER, along with supplying extra hands when we were short."
She paused, and Nadira gave her an encouraging "go on" nod. "We were...
intimate for a while. I supported Sy-- his company taking over, at
first, and then I started to have my doubts. I started to think that he
was using me to get the contract." Nadira nodded intently as she scooped
up the last bit of Szechuan noodles and nudged the empty plate to the
edge of her desk, out of her way.
"Do you think he was? Looking back on it now?" Kerry thought about the
question for a while before answering.
"I... don't think I really believed it *then*. Uh... my parents died -
were killed, in a car crash - while he and I were away on holiday in the
Caribbean. Technically, it was a convention - his company was paying the
bill - but everybody knows that's why conventions are usually someplace
like Miami or St Barts: for most people, the convention is just an
excuse to get a tan and drink margaritas. And I got home and I found a
message on my machine from my sister, and... I felt so guilty for being
out of town when they needed me."
"Because you could've given them a blood transfusion?"
"No. The ME declared that they were killed instantly. It's just plain
old irrational guilt. And I blamed Ell- him for taking me far away from
here, and I seized on that excuse - that he was just using me - for
pushing him away from me. But I probably would've found something
eventually *anyway*, I don't-- I never had much longevity with a man,
before Luka. They say a child learns how to bond with people at an early
age, right?" Nadira casually tapped her pen against her desk blotter.
"That's one theory, yes."
"I was adopted. I spent most of the first few years of my life in a
hospital before that, being poked and prodded and hurt by various
people. They meant well, I know now, but they didn't have much use for
input from a little girl."
"They didn't listen to you."
"No. They didn't. That just wasn't the way things were done then.
Sometimes I'd only find out that they were going to do a procedure when
they came to get me." She thought again about the way she'd become
unnerved after Paul Sobriki was brought back in after being hit by a
car; she knew the others must have thought that her state was due to
what the man had just done to John and Lucy, when it had been more of a
flashback to when *she'd* been the one in the bed... screaming because
she was being used as a pincushion by the latest doctor.
* * *
Randi found Dave in the lounge, muttering into a microphone as he looked
over a chart. "*You're* actually doing dictations?" He clicked a button
to pause the tape, and glanced up at her calmly.
"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?"
"Wrong? No. Surprising?" She answered her own question with a derisive
little snort, and flounced out. Dave sighed and shook his head, then
went back to it.
"Patient presented with some lower abdominal discomfort, but was
afebrile, with no tenderness or guarding. Blood tests were normal, but a
pelvic x-ray taken to rule out perforations revealed a foreign body
consistent in appearance with a bottle." Dave decided that it was
pointless to note that the man had claimed that he'd slipped and fallen
on top of it, since that was the story that *most* people in that
position used. "Extraction was achieved after adminstering lidocaine
jelly for local mucosal anesthesia, and general sedation with 5 migs of
Versed, IV, and drawing out the bottle with a pair of sponge forceps.
Post-procedural sigmoidoscopy revealed no damage to the patient's
bowels, and he was sent home after refusing an offer of psychological
counseling."
He sighed as he finished. It was strange, but somehow rectal foreign
bodies just weren't as funny to him as they'd once been. On the other
hand, squicking his med student with the ketchup bottle had had some
entertainment value... even though the poor kid would probably never be
able to eat ketchup on his food again.
* * *
"Why *were* you in the hospital?" Kerry sighed and rubbed her eyes: that
question had become inevitable the moment she brought up her early
childhood.
"My hips. Congenital dysplasia. Surgery and braces fixed them, more or
less, but I still have severe arthritis on the left side."
"Thus the crutch. I assume Luka knows about it?"
"Yes. Nobody else does, though. I told you - I don't talk about myself
if I don't have to. Even the closest thing I had to a close friend
here... I tried to keep the focus on *her* as much as I could." Nadira
wrote something on a piece of paper, and pushed it aside.
"What happened to her?"
"She was a PA, down in the ER. She met and fell in love with a cop
about... oh... a year, year and a half ago. She also got the opportunity
to adopt a baby who's HIV positive, just before they got married."
"That must be tough on a new marriage, to adopt a baby who's that sick."
"Jea-- she's an amazing woman. She's HIV positive herself, so she and
her husband are both familiar with the necessary precautions for a baby.
And she managed to hold it together in spite of her husband - her
ex-husband - running around on her, and ultimately infecting her. I
don't know how *I* would deal with something like that, for instance."
"You certainly haven't had it easy, yourself, have you, though?" Nadira
mused.
* * *
Mark retrieved the bag of Act II Butter Lovers popcorn from the
microwave, and settled in front of the TV. He hadn't been completely
honest with Yosh about his viewing habits, but he didn't really feel
like admitting that he watched the soaps - it was such *banal*
entertainment. True, sports scores probably weren't much better in the
grand scheme of things, but at least it was more 'macho' than knowing
what was happening to Blake and Hope and Timmy from day to day.
* * *
Haleh groaned as she spotted Dr Romano approaching. "Well, well... if it
isn't the universal ambassador of good will and cheer," she said snidely
to Chuny. who snickered. "Dr Romano... what brings you down here?"
"The endless urge to help out my fellow man," he replied dryly. "Who
paged me?"
"How the hell should *I* know? Check at the desk." She bustled past him,
and continued in her search for Dr Kovac - she had some lab results for
him that weren't going to make him very happy. She finally found him
catching up on journals in the lounge, since the traffic in the ER had
slowed down a lot.
"Hey, Dr Kovac. The bishop's labs are back." He plopped the journal down
on the table with a weary sigh.
"Oh, good. Finally."
"Well... not so good, actually. Have a look." She showed him the
printout, and he frowned.
"That son of a bitch," he muttered. No wonder the man had been so evasive!
* * *
Carter whistled casually as he flipped through Jeff Mason's chart.
"Okay... you're here because you have canker sores, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," the young man perched on the bed told him. "Wicked
sore sores," he added with a lame little laugh. Carter tapped his pen
idly on the clipboard.
"Okay. I'm gonna order lidocaine ointment, which should help with the
discomfort. And I'll also get a nurse in here to draw some blood, since
you've also had a fever for, uh... how long was it?"
"Two weeks."
"Right. Two weeks. And that can be *very* serious, you know." He missed
the look of dawning hope on Mason's face as he scribbled notes in the
chart and headed back out of the room.
* * *
Kerry came upon Luka pacing angrily in the lounge, a sheet of paper
clutched in one hand, and planted herself in his path to make him stop.
"Hey. Dragi. What's going on?" He silently held out the paper to her and
waited for her to slip her reading glasses on to read it.
"Hm," was all she said as she read the lab results. "Have you spoken to
him yet about these numbers?"
"No. I don't trust myself not to blow out at him." She shrugged, and
held out her hand.
"Fine. Give me the chart, then." She returned his stubborn glare, and he
reluctantly handed it over. "I'll talk to him, and see if I can get
things straightened out."
"Good luck getting *him* 'straightened out'." He put a hand on her
shoulder to stop her as she headed for the door. "How did your
appointment with Nadira go?"
"Not too bad, I guess. It was a little strange at first, but it went all
right."
"That's good. So, uh, you two got along?" She thought for a moment, then
smiled in that mischievous way that sometimes made him a little nervous.
"Yes. But I'm not going to run off with her, if that's what you're
worried about."
"I wasn't worried," he protested, although she noticed that he looked a
little relieved to hear that. "I just don't want the two of you to
fight, like you were before."
"No, we'd already settled that problem. Like ladies, like adults." She
reached up to straighten his tie, and smoothed out his lapels. "I like
that blue shirt - it's a good color on you. Looks even better on the
*floor*, of course," she added with a flirtatious little grin.
* * *
"Bishop Stewart. Good afternoon." He started at the sight of a petite
woman entering the room, carrying what he assumed was his chart. She was
limping rather heavily, and walking with the aid of a
complicated-looking crutch that seemed to hook onto her arm. Interesting.
"Uh, good afternoon, Dr...?" She put on her best "stern doctor" face,
suitable for lecturing noncompliant patients; she'd demonstrated it for
Luka just before leaving the lounge, and he'd gasped in mock horror.
"I'm Dr Weaver. I'd like to discuss your labs with you."
* * *
"Do you know if those films have come back yet on Patel in exam 4?" Luka
glanced up at Dave's question.
"I'll go up and see," he volunteered. He wasn't, though, prepared for
what he saw when he opened the door to Steve Flint's office. He stood
there, frozen with shock, for a few moments, then slammed the door shut.
Okay... obviously things were a *little* backed up. He cautiously opened
the door again. "Um... the films on Rajib Patel?" Steve gestured in the
direction of his desk, and Luka picked up the folder. "Uh, thanks," he
called out, and quickly left, shutting the door as he went. Steve sat
up, tucking his shirt around him even though Janet had already seen
everything and Luka was long gone.
"Ohhh, god, my reputation'll be *ruined*!" She smirked at him.
"Your reputation as what... a boring guy who looks at pictures of
people's innards all day long?" He shot her an indignant glare, and she
snickered. "Believe me, 'boring' isn't exactly how *I'd* describe you.
Not after what we just did, and definitely not with the rug burns I have
on my--" He interrupted fretfully.
"You know what I mean. We should've-- *you* should've locked the door."
"Right. Because *that* wouldn't be at *all* suspicious. Don't worry.
Luka isn't one to gossip." Steve rubbed his cheek reflectively against
Janet's shoulder.
"You're not in *love* with him, are you?" Janet spluttered with laughter.
"Luka?!? Oh, hell no! He's a sweet guy, and Kerry's lucky to have him,
but he's far from being my type."
"So what *is* your type?" She cuffed him gently, grinning.
"Um, *hello*."
"Oh. You mean I'm not a casual pity-fu--"
"Bite your tongue," she ordered sharply. He rubbed against her shoulder
again, this time resting his head there.
"So... uh... how many more of those condoms do you have?"
"More than enough, but we both need to get back to our duties, before
somebody *else* walks in. Do you want to go by my house after work, or
yours?"
"Well, considering the state my place is in, I guess your house is
probably safer."
"Okay." She promptly blew the few intact circuits he had left, with a
scorching kiss just before she slipped her scrubs back on. "See ya later."
* * *
"Mr Mason," Carter said breezily as he re-entered the exam room with the
lab slip. "We've got your test results back - you just have
mononucleosis. So just take it easy for the next couple of weeks, and--"
"How's my white count?"
"Uhm, it's a little elevated," Carter told him, nodding slightly. "Lots
of fluids, you'll definitely want to drink lots of--"
"And what about my CD-4 count?"
"I don't know - we only run *that* test on patients who are HIV positive."
"Oh. Well, I tested negative five months ago, but I've had unprotected
sex with my boyfriend, and he's HIV-positive." Carter frowned at that
revelation - *he* hadn't had unprotected sex since that fiasco with Liz,
back in med school, and couldn't imagine *not* taking all available
precautions against STDs.
"That's *very* dangerous, you know..."
"Yes, I know. But Sean and I just get so *caught up* in the moment that
we don't really, well, you know."
"Um... okay. I'll order that test, then."
"Thanks, Doctor."
* * *
Luka dropped off the x-rays, then ducked into the bathroom, where he
took long, deep breaths as he leaned against a sink, and tried to forget
what he'd seen a few minutes ago. He *really* hadn't, for instance,
wanted to know what Steve Flint looked like without any clothes. And
while Janet Coburn was a striking woman in *or* out of her clothes,
knowing what she looked like naked had never been high on his list of
priorities in life.
He splashed cold water on his face again and again, shuddering a little
at the memory of the two of them cavorting on the floor of Steve's
office. It was lucky, he supposed, that Dave hadn't been the one to go
after the x-rays - with the big mouth *that* man had, news of their
liaison would've undoubtedly beaten him back down here.
* * *
"Did somebody page me?" Abby hoped she wasn't being called down to the
ER to start *another* tricky IV on a child - she was off in twenty
minutes, and she really didn't want to get stuck staying after to work
on charts... again. Randi rolled her eyes and wordlessly jerked her
thumb in Carter's direction, and Abby sighed. "Carter?"
"Hi, Abby. Glad you could make it down here. I wanted to ask you a favor."
"You called me down here to ask me a *favor*? I'm not your sponsor
anymore, you know."
"I know. And I do have a new sponsor... although he's not as pretty as
you are." He smiled, and she reluctantly echoed the grin. "My
grandparents have a charity ball on tonight, and they're expecting me to
make an appearance. The girl who was *supposed* to go with me got sick
at the last minute, and I haven't been able to find anybody to go with
me." She raised her eyebrows, and crossed her arms in front of her
chest, stepping back from him slightly.
"Oh, so I'm the bottom of the barrel? I'm *flattered*."
"Aw, c'mon," he tried to wheedle. "I just lost a patient earlier today.
A *clown*. Doodles, or Sparkles, or something like that. He inhaled a
balloon at a birthday party while trying to make an animal, and choked.
Don't laugh, it's very very sad," he warned when Abby began to snicker.
"I know, I know. But *geez*. What a way to go!"
"Yep. You know, I'm not sure I should be *alone* tonight, after that
kind of traum-- stop laughing!" She put a hand over her mouth, but
continued to shake with silent laughter.
"I'm sorry! All right, all right, I'll go. What time is this thing, anyway?"
"I'll pick you up at 7:30." It didn't occur to him to clue her in that
it was a black-tie event, since he'd dated so many women who would
automatically *know* that a charity ball involved tuxes and fancy dresses.
Dave had been eavesdropping nearby. "The clown died?" Carter wondered
why he looked so nervous - after all, it wasn't like the clown had been
*Dave's* patient.
"Yeah. Poor guy. What a way to go, huh?" Carter shook his head and
turned away without waiting for Dave's answer. Dave gulped, and hoped
that his nightmares about a knife-wielding Bingo wouldn't start coming back.
* * *
As she stood next to the bishop's bed, holding the chart, Kerry could
well see why Luka had been pacing so furiously earlier. "Lupus... *and*
diabetes? How long have you known?" He had the decency to look guilty.
"For some time now. I've been taking 400 milligrams of Plaquenil a day
for the lupus, and controlling the diabetes through diet. I guess the
solumedrol must've thrown my blood sugar off a little." She arched an
eyebrow at him, and he wondered why he felt the sudden urge to cringe -
this Dr Weaver would have made an excellent Mother Superior!
"You... *guess*. I assume you deliberately didn't mention this part of
your medical history to Dr Kovac, otherwise he would never have
prescribed the solumedrol in the first place."
"No, I don't suppose he would have," the bishop too readily agreed.
"Where *is* he?" As if I didn't know, he thought, eyeing her crutch
again, with some trepidation.
"He got tied up with another matter, and asked me to take over for him."
It wasn't *strictly* true, but it sounded better than admitting that
Luka was too pissed about those lab tests to be reasonable.
"Ah. So you and Dr Kovac are close, then?" He'd been waiting for her to
tell him that he really *ought* to start using his cane, in order to be
able to function in daily life as well as *she* did, but maybe Dr Kovac
really *had* had to do something else.
"Close enough," she replied briskly. Even if Luka hadn't already warned
her about the bishop's endless curiosity, she still wouldn't have
answered such a personal question. Nevertheless, he spotted the ring on
her finger and, a moment later, the bulge in her belly where her
pregnancy was *just* beginning to show. He was celibate, but he wasn't
stupid.
"*Oh*. I *see*." She glared at him; that tone of voice was pretty
transparent, and she didn't like it any more than she liked the questions.
* * *
The nurses on duty gathered around the latest subject of the BAL pool,
and offered their guesses with their five dollar bills. ".375!" ".425!"
".515!" and so on. Malik?s guess, of .575, was the closest, and he
happily pocketed the pool... just before wheeling George off to hose him
down.
* * *
Carter erased another line from the board and sighed. "I'm out of here
in five. Kerry, can you take my patient in exam two? Jeff Mason? There's
still some lab results pending on him."
"Dr Malucci can take him," she responded easily, but Carter held on to
the chart almost protectively.
"I don't know about that. This is a case that requires tact and
sensitivity." Dave shrugged, and held out his hand for Jeff's chart.
"Hey, c'mon. I'll wrap it all up in a nice big pretty bow for him,
okay?" Kerry rolled her eyes behind Dave's back, but signalled to
Carter. He sighed, and surrendered the chart to Dave. "Cool. Have a good
time at your whatsit." As Carter was walking away, Dave muttered, "Ya
big *clown-killer*." The comment was too quiet for Carter to hear, and
Kerry could only hear that he'd said *something* in what sounded like an
unpleasant tone of voice.
"I'm sorry, Dr Malucci. What was that you said?" He winced slightly at
her icily polite tone of voice.
"Oh... uh... nothin', Chief."
"Right. Go see to your patient."
* * *
Dave smiled when he saw the results of Jeff's test, and tapped the sheet
of paper happily: it was always great to be able to deliver this kind of
good news. He made a quick detour to grab some condoms from the supply
room, then headed to exam 2, where he found a young man standing next to
Jeff, with an arm around his shoulders. It was a gesture that appeared
supportive on the surface, but there was something about it that
seemed... *territorial* to Dave. "This is Sean, my boyfriend," Jeff
explained when he saw Dave's questioning glance.
"Oh. Hiya, Sean. Could you just step outside for a sec, while I talk to
Jeff about his test results?"
"I'd rather stay, if it's all right." Jeff nodded, and Dave shrugged
slightly - as long as it was okay with the patient, it was okay with him.
"It's all good, Jeff - your test came back negative. Now, you two are
going to have to be very careful about risky behavior. I know how easy
it is, to get carried away in the heat of the moment, but it's *very*
importa--" He trailed off, confused by the failure of Jeff and Sean to
show any signs of relief at news of Jeff's continued negative status.
"Uh, am I missing something here?"
"We're together through *everything*, Dr Malucci," Sean told him
dismissively, and stroked Jeff's hair gently. Dave held back a shudder -
he'd heard about this kind of thing.
"You a bug chaser, Jeff?"
"We don't call it that," Sean told him, a little sharply.
"Yeah? I don't know what *else* to call it, 'cept 'suicide'." Sean
ignored Dave's sarcastic retort.
"Look, can't you just take a direct measure of his viral load? That'll
be a sure indicator of whether or not he's *really* negative."
"Yeah. Sure. Lemme get a nurse back in here to draw some more blood." He
couldn't look at Sean - it was bad enough that Jeff was apparently
willing to risk his health... his *life* for the sake of this
"togetherness", but for this man to *encourage* him to try to catch it!
* * *
Abby whistled as she removed the curlers from her hair, and brushed the
slightly wild curls into order before giving her hair a light touch of
spray. She kept catching herself wondering what his grandparents were
like, as she carefully applied the makeup that she rarely wore at work,
and kept scolding herself for those thoughts. I'm not his type, she
reminded herself. Not the type who winds up with "the handsome prince"
in the end, anyway. She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror as
she heard the knock on her door, and nodded at what she saw: nothing
fancy, but she supposed she'd do.
She opened the door, and her face fell when she saw Carter. "We don't
match," she noted sadly, her gaze going from his crisp tux to her pantsuit.
"Oh, I dunno," he replied gallantly, his eyes taking in the sight she
made: slim and pretty, with her hair in an attractive tumble of curls
around her shoulders and her face glowing. "We're both wearing black and
white. You look *great*!"
"Thanks. But I'm not *dressed* right. I wish you'd told me you were
going to be wearing a tux!" He was sure that he *had* told her, but
shrugged casually.
"Wanna go buy a dress? We've got plenty of time." She chuckled softly at
that... it was all so *easy* for him!
"Maybe, but I don't have the *money* for something like that. I'm a med
student, remember?"
"*I* have the money. It's not a problem," he insisted when he saw the
mulish look appear on her face.
"No, no, no. I know I've got something... I think." She disappeared into
her bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. Carter couldn't help
himself: he peeked through the cracked doorway, and saw - reflected in a
mirror - that Abby had already removed her pantsuit and was wearing a
black bra that looked as good on her as the pantsuit had. He gulped and
turned away - every instinct was telling him to go in there to her - and
concentrated on looking for a vase for the flowers he'd brought.
She reappeared a few minutes later, wearing a pretty satin dress in a
shade of pink that complemented her skin tone. "I guess I don't get to
wear dresses that often: this is just my bridesmaid's dress from my
ex-sister-in-law's wedding." He gulped, and tried not to stare at the
bare skin exposed by the top of the dress - he didn't want to come
across like Dave, after all!
"It looks fantastic, Abby. I wouldn't have known if you hadn't said
anything." She smiled shyly, and brushed at a nonexistent spot on the skirt.
"Well, she *did* try to pick out dresses that we could wear again."
"She did a good job of it." He suddenly remembered the bouquet in his
hand. "Oh, I brought these for you. I wasn't sure where to find a vase,
to put 'em in water."
"Oh! They're very pretty..."
"But?"
"I prefer dried flowers." She saw his look of confusion. "Fresh flowers
are prettier, but... they wilt eventually. Dried flowers stay the way
they are almost forever." She gestured to a dried bouquet in a container
on the table, and Carter was suddenly very glad that he hadn't yielded
to the inclination to dump out the "dead" flowers and replace them with
his own.
* * *
"If you drive me to the airport and tell me this ball is in *Paris*,"
Abby warned Carter teasingly as they went outside to the limo. Her hand
was tucked comfortably in the crook of his elbow, and she felt a little
like she was walking on air. God, wasn't it usually when things were
this good, that they started going bad?
"No, it's right here in town. Natural History Museum. Don't worry."
"Mm. Just as long as this thing doesn't turn into a pumpkin at
midnight." She patted the side of the enormous car contemplatively.
She'd never been in a limo before - the closest she'd ever come to one
before tonight was watching "Dynasty" as a teenager. Or at least, she'd
watched the show until Maggie smashed the TV set during one of her
periodic rampages.
"Don't worry," he repeated. "This is a strictly pumpkin-proof vehicle -
we can stay out as late as we like."
* * *
Abby glanced out the window of the limo, at all the people milling
around outside the museum. "You weren't kidding about this being a
'ball', were you?" She felt like she should be wearing glass slippers,
which was absurd: she wasn't some fairy-tale princess, and she certainly
didn't come from a world where people had chauffeurs who came around to
open the door for passengers! She thanked the driver shyly, and got out.
"It's just a benefit. No big deal," Carter protested, as he followed her
out of the limo.
She jumped slightly as somebody took her picture. "Wow! If this is what
you call 'no big deal', I'd hate to see what you *do* think is a big deal!"
"Huh? Oh. I guess I don't even notice it anymore."
"I guess you wouldn't, growing up with all this." She indicated the
grand setup with a sweep of her arm, ending with a gesture at his tux.
"Must've been pretty nice?"
"It had its disadvantages, believe me."
"Hmmm. I've never been here - is it a good museum??
"Never been here? You've been living in Chicago *how* long, and you've
never been to the Natural History Museum?!"
"I've been *working*!" she retorted indignantly, but couldn't help
snickering a little at Carter's tone of exaggerated seriousness. "Not
all of us have leisure time to go looking at... at... *bones*!"
"Not just bones. There's... um..." Carter trailed off hesitantly, trying
to think, and Abby laughed.
"And how long has it been since *you* were here last?"
"I've been working, too," he sheepishly admitted. "Shall we go in?" He
offered his arm, and Abby tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow
and smiled up at him.
"We shall."
* * *
"Ah..." Carter murmured as he led Abby through the crowds, and pointed
at a distinguished older man who was talking to some people. "*There* he
is. C'mon, I'll introduce you." He towed her over before she could come
up with an excuse. "Hi, Gramps," Carter said politely to the elderly
man. "This is Abby, a friend of mine who works at the hospital with me.
Abby, this is my grandfather, John Truman Carter, Senior."
"Oh. Um, pleased to meet you, sir." She held out her hand cautiously,
unsure if this was how things were done in this kind of social circle,
and held back a sigh of relief when John Truman Carter, Senior, shook
her hand.
"Likewise, Abby. John, you didn't tell me you were working with such a
lovely and charming young woman - why haven't you brought her around to
meet us before tonight?" Carter hid a little smile at the cute way Abby
blushed at his grandfather's words.
"Uh... it's been pretty busy," Carter hedged carefully.
* * *
Carter swept Abby onto the dance floor, pleasantly surprised by how well
they fit together. "This reminds me of the spring formal at my high
school," Abby mused. "I went with a guy named... uh... Seth, but I
ditched him for this really cool guy who smoked. Oh... what was his
name? Ummm... Tim Stillman! God, I haven't thought about any of that for
*years*. Anyway, I went outside to smoke a cigarette with him, and I
never went back in." Carter laughed.
"I feel for poor Seth."
* * *
Kerry and the bishop glanced through the window, into the next room
where a boy was being aggressively resuscitated. "I know I'm going to
die," the bishop told her suddenly. "Sometimes I'm afraid."
"Lupus and diabetes don't *have* to kill you, you know. If you take
proper care of yourself, instead of pushing yourself and taking drugs
that *will* harm your body--" He interrupted her impatiently.
"I appreciate your concern, Dr Weaver. Really, I do. But if you're not
going to prescribe solumedrol or prednisone for me, I don't really see
much point in me staying here." She sighed - she recognized this kind of
attitude.
"I can't, in good conscience, do that. Not with your medical history. I
realize that you may decide to go to another hospital in order to get
the drugs you're after--" He laughed softly.
"It's not like I'm some junkie, asking you for Demerol, doctor! I need
the steroids to help me function!"
"You *want* it, in order to help you ignore the limitations of your body."
"I still have things I want to do, Dr Weaver. If you can't understand
that, I might as well go to my own doctor, instead."
"Is that why you come here? Because your doctor won't give you the
steroids that aggravate your diabetes?" He started at her gentle tone.
"You know, when you first came in here, I was sure that Dr Kovac had
sent you in here to badger me about using my cane, because of your own
crutch. Now I wish that *had* been the case."
"All right, Bishop Stewart," Kerry said, ignoring his comment. "You can
get dressed and go home."
"So that's a 'no' on the steroids?"
* * *
Dave found Jeff Mason dressed and getting ready to leave. "Hey, Jeff.
Sean left?" He hoped that he didn't sound too hopeful about that
possibility.
"No. He went to move the car. He'll be back in a minute to get me."
"Anyway, the results of your viral test are back, and it's definite: You
are certified HIV-negative." There was no obvious reaction from Jeff.
"You and Sean are pretty close, huh?"
"Yeah. We've been together nearly a year."
"That's great. But is the relationship-- is *he* worth dying for? You're
23, bro. You have 50 or 60 years ahead of you." Jeff turned to Dave, his
eyes huge and troubled.
"Getting HIV is inevitable. Besides, it can be managed now." To Dave,
Jeff sounded like he was reciting a line he'd rehearsed... or been taught.
"It can also kill you. You're safe now, but you won't stay safe forever
unless you practice safer sex."
"But condoms make him feel like he's contaminated, and he says that the
only way we can *really* be intimate is if we do it without condoms."
"Sure. It's easy for *him* to say that - he's already *got* the virus."
"I *love* Sean. Have *you* ever been in love, Dr Malucci?"
"Yeah. But I wouldn't throw away my health, my *life*, just so I could
be sick with the same illness as my lover. An illness that's going to
kill him eventually."
"But I don't *have* anybody else besides Sean!" Dave sighed.
"You have yourself. In the end, that's all anybody really has. C'mon,
man. I'll walk you out." He opened the door for Jeff. "You should make
an appointment at the clinic for follow-up."
"I'll see," Jeff muttered noncommittally, and turned to look at Sean,
who was waiting in the hallway.
"Are you going to protect yourself from now on?" Jeff smiled sadly at him.
"Maybe. Probably not."
* * *
"Shall we dance, shall we dance, shall we dance?" Abby sang softly as
they left the ball and headed for the limo. It had been an *incredible*
evening - she'd actually started to believe that
this kind of magic could last for longer than one night, even though she
really knew better. Still, she had a good-looking escort, his
grandparents had been really nice, and she'd had an all-around
fan-fuckin'-tastic evening.
"You sound like you had a good time." Carter smiled indulgently at the
sight of the smile that wouldn't stay off Abby's face.
"Oh, I did. Do you want to stop for some coffee on the way back to my
place?"
"I'd like to, but I have a shift in the morning - coffee'll keep me up
all night."
"Okay."
* * *
Harris liked it when Kerry and Luka left him a nice quiet ER - it sure
beat the nights when everything was ultra-chaotic and crazy! The sound
of the phone ringing barely registered on him, but Amira's petulant hail
finally got his attention. "Hey. Dr LaVelle. Phone call for you on line
2." Amira held out the phone to him.
"Huh? Oh, sure. Thanks. I'll take it in the lounge, okay?" He
disappeared through the door, and a few minutes later everybody in the
general vicinity turned at the sound of a rather loud "WAHOOOO!" from
inside the room.
"Is everything all right, Dr LaVelle?" Conni hurried into the lounge,
alarmed by the shout, to find Harris doing a little victory dance around
the room.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I just heard from a buddy who's in a private practice in
New York. One of their doctors is retiring, and he'd suggested that I
submit my resume."
"And you got the job," she guessed.
"Yep. They're right in one of the World Trade Centers... all kinds of
great cultural opportunities in the immediate area. Ah... New York. I
can't *wait*. I mean, I won't be leaving until June, but...." Conni
smirked at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Okay. Sounds like fun."
"Yeah, I know. I mean, I'll be taking all the calls and weekends for the
first year or so, as a junior associate, but the money's *terrific*."
"I hear New York's even more expensive than Chicago," she observed calmly.
"Yeah, that's a downside. Still, I figure I should be able to do okay on
the pay I'll be getting - way more than I'm getting *here*." Conni
rolled her eyes and pfffed softly. Damn doctors.
* * *
Luka looked up from the living room desk and saw that Kerry was leaning
back against the couch watching him work, wearing what appeared to be
nothing but his shirt. He hmmed speculatively at the sight. "So... are
you actually wearing anything underneath that?"
"Come on over here, and find out." He rolled his eyes, but also smiled
as he stood up and went to her.
"What happened to your zest for getting work done?"
"Second trimester happened," she informed him as he quickly went to work
on unbuttoning her-- *his* shirt. "Suddenly I'm not as concerned about
getting work done as making love with you as often as possible." She
abruptly shoved his t-shirt up far enough for her to be able to touch
his skin.
"Mmm. Be careful. I hear the boss gets a little cranky when paperwork is
late." He finished opening the shirt, and stared, almost curiously, at
her belly. "You're showing." He massaged the bulge almost cautiously.
"You should maybe be on top - I'm a little worried I might squash--" She
reached up and traced his lips lazily with one finger.
"You know better than that."
"Yeah, I do." She grinned.
"You just like to sit back and make me do all the work." He waggled his
eyebrows suggestively.
"Don't forget that your breasts are easier to play with when you're on
top."
"Hey!" She lunged at him as he started giggling helplessly, and knocked
him down and onto his back. His excited yelp came a few moments later,
followed shortly by her own.
"Tvrdoglav hrvatski," she whispered *much* later.
"Nezasitna amerikanac," he replied, as he pulled her closer to kiss the
tip of her nose.
* * *
The sound of noise from downstairs woke Doug from a sound sleep; last
night had been a long haul, with flu patients all over the place, and
he'd made it home and to bed practically on automatic pilot. He sat up
and yawned, and noticed that Carol was already up. Now he could hear her
puttering around downstairs in the kitchen - she had the radio on, and
it was playing some Grateful Dead song from the '70s.
He sang along quietly as he threw on a t-shirt and jeans and headed
downstairs. It was more Mark's kind of music than Doug's, but it was
pleasant enough.
My time coming, anyday, don't worry about me, no
It's gonna be just like they say, them voices tell me so
Seems so long I felt this way and time sure passin' slow
Still I know I lead the way, they tell me where I go.
Don't worry about me, no no no, don't worry about me, no
and I'm in no hurry, no no no, I know where to go.
"Hey, babe. Babes." He greeted Carol with a kiss on the cheek, but Kate
and Tess - parked in their high chairs - got a more cautious greeting:
their faces were decorated with cereal, from a very recent breakfast.
Kate turned and splurted happily at him just as he was aiming for a
relatively clean part of her face, and Carol giggled. She mopped him off
with a washcloth before swiping at her daughters' faces, and kissed him
again - properly, this time.
"I think I heard the mail arrive. Could you go out and get that, while I
finish hosing down the kitchen?"
"Carol, I already told ya. Let me hire a maid to keep up with this
place. You have enough to worry about, with classes starting in September."
"Mm... it's not so bad, when I don't *have* to do it," she teased him.
"At least I don't have both of 'em crying while the smoke detector's
going off." He chuckled, and bent to nuzzle her neck.
"That was *your* choice, remember?" She swatted him away, grinning.
"Yeah, yeah. Go."
The neighborhood where he'd bought his house - *their* house - was as
blissfully quiet today as it usually was. Bobby Schulman was out riding
his bike, and waved as Doug ambled down the front walk and returned the
wave. He pawed open the mailbox, and reached inside. Hm... bills, a
couple of magazines, junk... hey, some actual letters. He sorted through
the letters, and smiled when he recognized the return address on one of
them.
"Whatcha got?" Carol had finished cleaning up the girls, and had freed
them from their high chair prisons to go play in the family room.
"Phone and electric bill, your copy of 'Journal of Emergency Nursing',
and oh yeah, we got something from Mark and Elizabeth."
"Let me see. No, silly, the one from Mark and Elizabeth," she protested
when he jokingly tried to hand her the bills, and practically shredded
the requested envelope open when he finally surrendered it. "Oh, man.
They're finally getting married, in April."
"Yeah? I don't suppose this helps you change *your* mind about it, does it?"
"Just because you've been harping on me about that for the last... what,
three or four years? What date did you have in mind?"
"Hm... I dunno. It would be kinda nice to do it before we go to their
wedding-- I assume you wanna go?"
"Yes, I want to go. They were very supportive while I was trying to
get my head together. And yeah, it would be 'kinda nice' to show up as
a married couple. Besides, I bet my mom wouldn't mind looking after the
girls while we go to the wedding - she's been giving me major hints that
she misses her granddaughters."
"The girls? You mean we can't just leave them here on their own while we
go?" Carol cracked up at the mock disappointment in Doug's voice.
"Noooo, we can't. They'd probably have boys over, and throw a huge
party. Beer kegs and everything."
"Oh. Well, in that case we'll definitely take them along."
"Good idea," she said sarcastically. "As for our wedding, I think
white is kind of out for me - it's one thing for me not to be a virgin,
but another thing entirely for me to have our toddler twins there!"
Doug nuzzled her neck again.
"A nice scarlet, then?" She snickered, and elbowed him gently.
"Riiiiiight. Scarlet, with cleavage down to my navel."
"Hey, I can totally get behind *that* idea." Carol snorted at him.
POST-OPERATIVE NOTES:
* BuffyQuote is from the season 4 episode "Hush".
* Re Coburn & Flint - okay, so I can't really see 'em as a couple
either. Just seemed like a fun thought experiment.
< Back to "Sea Change" Forwards to "Can't See the Forest For the Trees" >