-------------------------------Chapter One: Last Time -------------------------------

I'm not the first you sucked down

I drank your pleasure slow

Then stumbled out from your veil

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"You did not," Luka heard Carter say as he opened the door, obviously not believing something that the other person was talking about. Luka adjusted the heat of the water, feeling a slight chill as the door opened and let the cold air from the adjoining men's room in.

"Yes I did!" Dave's voice now, incredulous that Carter did not believe him. The door to the showers closed behind him, and then he heard scrubs being removed and thrown into the trash. "How can that be so hard to believe?"

"First of all, because *I* have never performed one, and I'm a senior resident," Carter replied as he came into Luka's view. He reached inside one of the stalls and turned on the shower. Luka had never seen him naked, and he had a surprisingly nice body, though if he worked out it would've looked much better. "And second of all, we're talking about Doctor Benton here, Dave. He would never let you do that if you promised him a million bucks."

"Yeah, well whether or not you believe it," Dave retorted, now coming into Luka's view as well, "he let me do it. That's another procedure to tack onto my residency. Besides, you can just ask Chen. She was there. And she looked pretty damn cute in those trauma scrubs. I think she thought I looked cute too."

Carter laughed, shaking his head as he stepped into a stall, not bothering to close the door, like most of the doctors did when they took showers. Luka let his eyes wander over Dave's body, taking in his muscles, his tight ass...and if he turned around just a little bit, he might be able to get a glimpse of his cock.

As if he had heard his silent request, Dave suddenly turned, taking Luka by surprise, and the resident smiled knowingly. Luka had been caught, but he didn't look away. "Hey, Luka. How's it hanging?" He smiled widely at his own joke, and then turned back to the shower, adjusting the heat of the water. He stepped inside the stall and closed the translucent glass door, not allowing Luka to see his naked body anymore.

Suddenly a pager went off, and everyone stepped out to see whose it was. Carter swore quietly after seeing that it was his. He pulled out a new set of scrubs and quickly put them on, obviously upset that he couldn't finish taking his shower after being puked on by a dozen Brownie Troopers who had gotten food poisoning in the woods.

"There's no escape," Carter groaned, shaking his head. He grabbed his pager and ID badge, and then started towards the door. "I'll see you guys later," he called over his shoulder before he left the shower room.

That left Luka alone with Dave.

-------------------------------------

I'm not the first you sucked down

I drank your pleasure slow

Then stumbled out from your veil

-------------------------------------

Dave leaned his head forward, gently rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He had assisted Carter with those Brownie Troopers, and had been kneeling down in front of one so he could be level with them when she had opened her mouth and heaved all over him. The girl that Carter was holding had followed suit, and soon all of the girls were barfing all over the place, and by the time they were finished, both doctors were full of vomit.

He suddenly felt a swift breeze pass over his legs, and turned to see where it had come from. He came face to face with Luka, who was shutting the translucent door behind him; the breeze had come from the cold air drifting into the shower. Slightly taken by surprise, Dave darted his eyes from the older man.

"Luka..." he said awkwardly, under his gaze. "What're you doing here?"

"I think you know what I'm doing here," he replied, and then reached out and touched Dave's cheek gently. He lured Dave closer, and then led his lips closer to him, slightly drawing his face upwards because Dave was shorter by about four inches. Dave's brown eyes looked into his own hazel ones curiously, but then he closed them as their lips met in a soft kiss. Dave suddenly pulled away, but Luka grabbed the junior resident's semi-erect cock to stop him. "What's wrong?"

-------------------------------------

Still I've come for you tonight

You choke my faith and stab my pride

And tell myself that

-------------------------------------

"Luka...we can't do this," Dave said, barely able to think because of Luka's hand touching him.

"Don't worry," he said, a suggestive smile spreading across his face. He gave Dave a gentle tug, pulling him closer. Dave glanced up. "I locked the door."

"You know what I mean." Luka suddenly grabbed Dave's shoulders and pushed him up against the shower wall brusquely; the wind could've been knocked out of him if Luka wanted it to. Dave stared at Luka for a moment, and he felt a sudden fear taking over him. He was just being paranoid he knew, Luka would never hurt him...would he? Luka, mistaking the fear in Dave's eyes for excitement, smiled. They stared at each other for a moment, Dave's eyes searching Luka's, and with a sudden burst of passion Luka kissed him roughly. At first, Dave tried to pull out of the embrace, but finally gave into the passion.

Luka opened his mouth and greedily took Dave's tongue inside, sucking on it gently and then allowing it to explore. Luka moved his hands to Dave's nipples, gently stroking them. Dave moved his hands all over Luka's body as well, touching his ass and his chest and his erection and his everything, barely able to get enough.

Dave removed one of his hands from Luka's body as he hastily reached for the conditioner that was laying on a nearby shelf along with all of the other various toiletries. His hand groped the shelf for it, knocking several bottles to the floor as he searched for it, and he felt Luka place his hand on top of his.

"Here," Luka whispered breathlessly into his ear, pressing himself against Dave long enough to hear the low moan escape from the younger man's lips, "let me do it."

-------------------------------------

This is the last time

This is the last time

This is the last time now

I bleed for you

-------------------------------------

Luka opened the conditioner and squeezed some into his hand, and then started rubbing it slowly on Dave's hard on. Dave placed his hand around Luka's wrist and stopped him, and then applied the conditioner himself, moaning as he did so. Dave could barely control himself; if he didn't get inside Luka soon, then there was going to be a mess all over the both of them.

Realizing this, Luka quickly turned around, allowing Dave to have full access to his ass, which was waiting not so patiently. Dave loved this feeling, the feeling of being in control. He loved the power he had over his lovers, whether his lover was a woman or a man, Dave loved controlling them and dominating them. Dave smiled with pleasure as he moved closer to Luka, pressing his hot cock against the older man and kissing his shoulder, using his tongue to gently flick over his skin and give him gooseflesh.

Dave stood slightly on tiptoe and Luka bent his knees somewhat so that they could be at even height, and Dave just inserted the tip of his hard on into Luka's ass, snaking his other hand around so that he could caress Luka's penis. Dave smiled mischievously, gently touching his lips to Luka's ear.

"Tell me you want it," Dave whispered teasingly into Luka's ear.

"God damn it, Dave, you know I want it," Luka hissed, barely able to concentrate on forming words because of the sensations that Dave was creating at the moment. "Please..."

A sharp intake of breath was heard from Luka as Dave entered him. Dave had great lovemaking skills, always managing to make the sex hot and passionate, teasing Luka relentlessly until he exploded. He moved with long, slow strokes, causing Luka to sigh with pleasure each time Dave touched his prostate.

With the level of ecstasy that Dave provided, Luka knew he didn't need any help coming, but sometimes it was more enjoyable when he had help. Dave gave Luka's cock a tug, then ran his thumb over the head, and that was all it took to throw Luka over the edge, and he exploded, throwing his head back and moaning, almost screaming.

Now that there was no more pressure, Luka could fully enjoy the sex, feeling mini orgasms each time Dave touched his prostate, moving with quicker strokes each time. He could hear Dave's breathing becoming erratic and feel his hot breath on his neck, faster and faster until he was near hyperventilation and then finally he came deep inside of Luka, collapsing against him when he was finished.

-------------------------------------

Preservation or predation

And I'm reeling I don't know

Crumbled, I spill out of your hand

I want to fall, and you see it all

You'll just laugh when I say

-------------------------------------

They stood like that for a moment before Dave pulled himself out of Luka, causing both of them to grunt slightly. Dave turned towards the shower, letting the water wash away any remnants of the sex, and he felt Luka wrap his arms around him to help him clean up, and Dave tensed immediately. Luka pressed against Dave's backside, and Dave flinched, pulling away.

"Luka...we can't do this anymore," he said, unable to meet the older man's gaze as he gently pushed Luka's hands off of him.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it a few moments ago," he said, trying to get Dave to look at him by sheer will.

"I can't continue being your fuckboy every time you need to work off some tension," he said harshly, and then slid the shower door open and stepped outside, quickly snatching a towel from off of the rack and placing it around his waist, grabbing another one to dry himself off. Luka followed suit, grabbing a towel and placing it around his waist as well.

"You're the one doing the fucking," Luka snapped back.

Dave turned and growled: "You know what I mean. You're the one that wanted it this way, Luka. You're the one that wanted it to be one one-night stand after another."

Luka could remember the night that they had first had sex; it was the night that Luka had first had sex with a man at all.

They had both had a long day at County and were pulled away from leaving by another trauma that Kerry had forced them to take by threatening them with their jobs. They had obliged quickly, and the trauma hadn't gone well at all. Their patient had had too severe injuries, and even after they had cracked the chest and directly shocked the heart, he was still in V-fib. After Luka had asked to stop compressions, the patient had immediately gone asystole.

Sad thing was, the patient kind of reminded Dave of his first boyfriend.

Even though the patient had died, Dave had thought that seeing Luka work so wonderfully on the patient was almost like witnessing a miracle, and he had asked Luka if he'd like to go grab a drink with him now that they were off. Luka had hesitated, but soon accepted the invitation because he had nothing better to do at home besides figuring out how to use his new microwave so he could make dinner.

At the bar, both men had gotten plastered. The bartender who knew Luka had taken away his keys and had called a cab, telling Luka that he could pick up his keys tomorrow - that is if he didn't decide to stay and get plastered during that visit too. The cab had taken them to Luka's house first, and then the cabby was going to take Dave back to his place. It was late at night, the early hours of the morning in fact, and the streets were deserted, the only ones there being Luka, Dave, and the cabby.

Luka was having such a nice night, he didn't want it to end just yet. What was one more beer? They were already drunk, they might as well. He held out his hand to the younger doctor and smiled.

"Want to come upstairs?" he asked. Dave smiled and took Luka's outstretched hand, and climbed out of the cab, paying the driver on his way out. Both men quickly went upstairs, giggling the whole way up to Luka's apartment in their drunken stupor.

-------------------------------------

This is the last time

This is the last time

This is the last time now

I bleed for you

-------------------------------------

"Do you want some Forester's?" Luka asked, holding up the bottle of hard liquor. Dave grinned and nodded, sitting at the kitchen table lazily. Luka turned and began to pour the drinks in the glasses when he suddenly felt Dave wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his neck. Luka turned, taken aback by his action. Was David Malucci coming on to him? "What are you doing?"

"I think you know what I'm doing," Dave said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He pressed himself against Luka, and the older man could feel the pressure in the younger man's pants. He heard a soft sigh escape from Dave's lips. "Have you ever been with a guy before?"

"No..." was the slow reply. Luka suddenly realized that Dave had been flirting the whole night. He had tossed the attending compliments, playful smiles, dirty jokes...it was all coming together now, the mixed signals that he had received from Dave. "Dave...I'm not sure if we should do this."

"Why not?" Dave asked, leaning more heavily against him. He raised his lashes, looking into Luka's eyes. He smiled, bit his lip, then raised on tiptoe so that he could whisper into Luka's ear: "You know there's a first time for everything..."

Luka looked at Dave, searching his brown eyes and that naughty grin, finding nothing but pure passion. He felt a pressure building in his own pants now. Dave slowly moved his lips closer to Luka's, and soon they were touching his. Luka was hesitant at first, but soon gave in as he felt Dave's tongue push past his closed lips and into his mouth, delightfully surprising him.

Soon clothes were being strewn about - on the kitchen floor, counters, Dave's shirt landing in the kitchen sink, Luka's shirt landing over the blender. They could've taken it to the kitchen table, but Luka knew he would have to eat on it sooner or later, so they took it to the bedroom.

Dave had taken the lead being that it was Luka's first time, and he had loved every minute of it. He had told Luka what to do, he had told him what to expect, and he had even surprised him a little. He had been in complete control.

-------------------------------------

And everything I feel I know you know

And everything that heals I know you know

And everything that steals I know you know

And everything that kills you know...

-------------------------------------

The next morning both had awoken with hangovers, and they couldn't remember much of last night. But they soon figured out what had happened after they had realized they were naked and in the same bed. Dave had asked Luka if he wanted to keep this between them, and Luka had quickly said yes, stating that he had never been with a man and that he never intended to be with one again.

Dave had been understanding, having heard that many times before, having been used many times before, by many people - men and women. It was always the same, but he could understand where they were coming from. But he couldn't say that he wasn't hurt by it. He had actually liked Luka; he had actually wanted something more than just sex, maybe some sort of relationship. But that was usually what happened when he got his hopes to high: he was let down miserably.

And Luka and Dave had only had a one-night stand. That is, until he had showed up at Dave's apartment one night, feeling an itch that only the resident could scratch.

They had continued to have casual sex, but Luka had, for some reason or another, never wanted it to go any further. Now he wished he had. He wished that he could joke around with Dave and talk with him the way that Carter did, and he suddenly felt insanely jealous towards Carter. Dave and Luka's relationship had ended in a vicious fight, with Dave wanting something more than casual sex and Luka only wanting that. They had both ended up ignoring each other and avoiding each other.

Until today.

-------------------------------------

And tell myself that

This is the last time

This is the last time

This is the last time now

-------------------------------------

"I made a mistake," he said, sincerity ringing through his voice. He tried to plead with Dave with his eyes, but the younger man would still not make eye contact with him. "Why can't we be together now?"

"Because maybe I don't feel the same way anymore," Dave said, finally meeting Luka's gaze.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" Luka asked, and Dave didn't answer, but instead looked down again. He moved closer to Dave, softly touching his cheek. Dave darted his eyes from Luka's as the attending moved his hand down, brushing it over his nipple and feeling it stiffen to his touch. "He doesn't know what you like..." he whispered. Dave closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath to keep himself in check. Then Luka moved his hand to deliberately brush over Dave's ass. Dave flinched and pulled away, but Luka grabbed his wrist so he couldn't go any further. "...And what you don't like."

"He can learn," Dave said, trying to get out of Luka's grasp, but he was too strong. He stopped struggling, knowing his attempts were vain and he wasn't really trying anyway. He scowled at Luka. "You did."

"What makes you so sure that he's the one?" Luka asked, staring intensely at Dave. "Why aren't I the one?"

"Because he's different," he said quickly.

"That's right," Luka said callously. "He is different. He isn't like us."

"You weren't either until you met me," Dave reminded him defiantly. He tried to pull away from Luka again, but the attending wouldn't relent. "Let me go, Luka, I have to get back to work."

Luka did as he was told, letting go of Dave, and the resident quickly grabbed a set of scrubs and moved towards the men's room to get as far away from Luka as he could, fearing that what just occurred in the shower would occur again if he stayed too close to him for too long.

-------------------------------------

This is the last time

This is the last time

This is the last time now...

-------------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Two: Radio Silence -------------------------------

Let it sing

Let it cry

You roll out the carpets

-------------------------------

"Hey, Dave!" John Carter called as the younger resident picked through the charts - something that they weren't allowed to do, but Dave didn't feel like dealing with yeast infections or hemorrhoids right now. Dave abruptly stopped, and turned around to see Carter holding out a pair of gloves. He looked up at Carter, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and pulled out a chart at random. "Would you care to join me in a trauma?"

"Well I don't know, Carter," Dave replied, the twitch turning into a suggestive smile. "You haven't even asked me out on a date yet."

"Hey," Carter said, holding his hands up mock-defensively. He took a step back and smiled himself. "It's either me or..." - he approached Dave and stood behind him, glancing over his shoulder to read the chart - "a disempaction. Very nice."

Dave contemplated for a moment, weighing out his options. He finally turned to Carter. "I don't know...a good disempaction sounds so tempting." He tossed his chart back onto the admin desk.

"Thought so." Carter handed him the gloves, and he pulled them on.

They moved out of the ER doors and into the ambulance bay, where Luka and Kerry were already waiting. They stood in silence, blowing on their hands to warm them up, and at the back of his mind Dave thought he should've grabbed his jacket. It was evening, the sun just setting, and it would soon be night.

"What's the trauma?" he asked, looking at the tiny figures seated inside Doc Magoo's, hoping he'd be able to get there sometime during his shift and have a nice, warm coffee. He would kill for a break right now, but a trauma was better than a disempaction, he had to admit.

"Not sure," Carter answered honestly with a shrug. "The EMTs can't exactly figure out what happened."

Dave wasn't really listening, he had just been trying to start some sort of conversation. What are my plans tonight? he thought idly. He had none. It was a Saturday night and David Malucci had no plans? Now was as good a time as any to make some.

"Hey, Carter," Dave started, turning to him. Carter looked at him with raised eyebrows. Dave glanced at Luka, who didn't seem to be listening. His conscious almost didn't allow him to say anything more, but he knew he wouldn't have the balls to do it later. "When do you get off?"

So that wasn't what he had hoped to ask, but it was better than nothing.

"Eight-thirty," he replied hesitantly. "Why?"

"Want to grab a beer at nine?" Dave asked, damning the rosters for having him work a half-hour longer than Carter. Now Carter would have to stick around for another half-hour, which was probably something that he didn't want to do...that is, if he even accepted his invite. Dave could hear the ambulance approaching from the distance, its sirens increasing in volume as it came closer.

"I don't know, Dave..." Carter said. His idea of a good Saturday night was going home after work and sleeping in until Monday, when he had to return to work again, not spending the night getting drunk with David Malucci.

"It's just a beer," Dave said, looking away from the ambulance that was now entering the ambulance bay and then back to Carter.

"Dave!" Weaver barked, startling the young resident. He glanced at her, and she indicated the ambulance with her cane. "Trauma. You can talk about your social plans afterwards. You take the first case with Doctor Kovac, I'll take the second one with Doctor Carter."

"Doctor Kovac?" Dave asked Kerry after quickly exchanging glances with Luka. He smiled nervously, rubbing the nape of his neck. Kerry narrowed her eyes at his sudden nervousness. "You know, it's been a while since I've worked on a trauma with Carter here. I always seem to get stuck with Doctor Kovac..." He glanced at Luka, who was watching with clear hurt in his eyes, and Dave immediately cast his eyes to the ground. "Nothing against him or anything..."

"I don't care, Malucci," she snapped irritably. Whatever was going on between Luka and Dave didn't need to get in the middle of a trauma. She supposed him working with Carter was the best. "Just pick a trauma partner and save a life."

"Sure thing, Chief," he said with a charming smile that managed to win over almost every woman he'd ever met except her and a few choice others. She rolled her eyes as the ambulance stopped in front of them, and each pair of doctors moved towards their assigned positions. "Looks like it's me and you, Carter."

"Must be my lucky day, Dave," Carter joked.

"Dr. Malucci," he heard Luka say sternly, "I'd like to speak with you later."

"What about?"

"Later." Dave could tell that Luka was pissed, but too much of a professional to let anyone else see it. He just hoped that he could avoid the older man until the end of his shift so he wouldn't find out what he'd like to speak with him about, which, if his instincts served him correctly, he already knew what the topic was.

The ambulance doors pushed open hastily, and the two paramedics emerged with the first gurney. Glancing down, Dave noticed a boy of about eight years of age sitting on it, clutching a rather large gray cat in his arms. The cat let out a meow, but did not protest against the boy's grip.

Dave turned to the boy. "Hey, little guy. What's your name?"

"I fell down the stairs," he said, avoiding eye contact with either doctor. Dave and Carter exchanged glances above the little blonde boy's head, and Dave looked to the paramedic, seeing that he wasn't going to get anything else out of the little boy.

"Name's Daniel Tucker," the female paramedic reported as the two doctors led them into the ER, pushing the gurney along with them. The doctors, paramedics, and boy emerged into the ER, quickly moving towards a trauma room. "He called 911, and all he said was his name and address, and that he fell down the stairs. What it looks like is that that's his father back there, and that they *both* fell down the stairs."

"How did that happen?" Carter asked, astonished. He glanced down at the little boy, but he looked too upset to say anything. What the hell had happened? Carter glanced at his trauma partner again, and saw that Dave's brow was creased with deep thought. He made eye contact with Carter, but Carter looked back down to Daniel. "Daniel, can you tell me what happened?"

"I fell down the stairs," he answered again, this time more firmly.

"I'm going to need an IV started, CBC, Chem 7..." Dave said, turning his professional instincts on. The first step was to take care of the patient, make sure he was all right physically. Then he was going to see about emotionally and mentally. He didn't like what he saw, he didn't like it at all. The boy may have fallen down the stairs, but that wasn't the only thing that had happened, not by a long shot.

And he was going to find out what else had.

-------------------------------

No such thing

You mustn't pry

All hail to another confession

-------------------------------

Inside the trauma room, Dave had just finished applying a cast to Daniel's broken arm. Carter had left briefly to get the results to the various tests that Dave had ordered, and Dave was now cleaning up the leftover plaster and special gauze, throwing them into the proper garbage bin. He glanced back at the boy, and smoothed down a piece of the still wet cast that was sticking up.

"There you go," he said, smiling brightly, trying to spark some sort of reaction from the boy, who had stayed silent the whole time, the cat sleeping at the end of the gurney. "Now all your friends can sign it, and put little messages...on...it..." He gave up, trailing off when he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere. He let out a frustrated sigh and placed his hands on his waist.

Carter walked through the trauma doors at that moment, holding the results of the tests.

"Everything looks normal," he reported as he showed Dave the results. Dave glanced at the boy worriedly, and then to his still unconscious father in Truama Two. Daniel's father had come in with a severe concussion, but should be waking soon. When he woke up, then they'd get the story; the boy was too traumatized to tell anyone, apparently. "What do you think's wrong with him?"

Upon examination of the young boy, Dave had noticed several bruises on his body, and even two cigarette burns on his neck that were parallel to each other, separated by a centimeter. Dave absently touched a similar scar on his own back. It was one of like many of the scars that Dave had all over his body. And he remembered when each one was made, he remembered the fear, the begging, the pain, the crying...he could remember, even when he didn't want to. Unfortunately, Dave knew first hand where those burns were from, now all he had to do was get Daniel to admit it. He turned back to Carter, motioning for him to join him outside of the trauma room.

"I don't like the look of this, Carter," he said, staring at Daniel through the glass of the door. "I don't like it at all."

"What do you think happened?" Carter asked, following his gaze, watching as the younger resident rubbed at a specific spot on his back. His hand dropped to his side, and he inhaled several times before finally letting out a sneeze. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just allergic to cats," Dave said. He was allergic to any type of furry animal that shed, and he hadn't taken his allergy medicine this morning because he usually never came in contact with them in the ER. He had kept his distance from the cat, asking that a nurse remove it from the boy's arms, and then only touching it with gloved hands, holding it at an arm's length, leaving the nurses to believe that he was afraid of it.

They had teased him about it, saying comments such as "It's only a cat, Malucci, not a mountain lion," and "It's black cats that are bad luck, Doctor Malucci, you don't have to be afraid of the gray ones." He had immediately silenced them: "Can we try to stop making fun of me for one second and treat the goddamned patient?" The seriousness of the situation did not allow him to be able to joke, and he was obviously upset that they were able to. They had been perplexed by his sullen behavior and irritability, which was so unlike Dave. They had only been joking, he didn't have to snap at them.

"I think he got into a fight with his old man," Dave said suddenly.

"What makes you think that?" Carter asked, looking at the junior resident with puzzlement.

Dave glanced at Trauma Two before he turned to Carter again. "Did you see the bruises on that kid? The scars on his neck? You don't get that from falling down the stairs. Some of those bruises are already yellow around the edges, which means that they're healing and already days old."

"What should we do?" That was Carter, always being logical. Dave had just wanted to impale Daniel's father with his own IV pole when he woke up, immediately jumping to the irrational answer to the problem. He would only land in jail for that, and it wouldn't be the first time he ended up there because of a rash decision and a bad temper. But that wouldn't help Daniel, and he had to get the boy to talk or the abuse would never stop. When he didn't answer right away: "Dave?"

There was only one thing *to* do. "I'm going to talk to him."

"Dave, wait," Carter said, taking him by the arm before he could get back inside the trauma room. Dave looked at him. "Maybe you should let me do it...I mean...the kid's already scared into silence. If you say the wrong thing..." He trailed off, allowing the statement to hang. "And lets face it, you're not known for being sensitive and tactful. This is going to take some...finesse."

"I think you should let me handle this," Dave replied sharply, clearly insulted.

"I didn't mean it like that," Carter said, wishing he had inherited the gift of gab from some family member or another. He had never had a way with words when it came to friends. Patients, however, he could do. "I just think that I would be better at getting him to open up, that's all."

"It doesn't matter," Dave said, obviously still pissed at Carter's poor opinion of him. He glanced into Trauma One. "What matters is helping that kid...so give it a shot."

Carter started to move into Trauma One when he turned back to Dave, who was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. "You aren't coming?"

"I think I'll watch the master from here," he replied coldly. Carter nodded and then walked into the trauma room. Dave watched as he sat down on the stool in front of the boy, who pulled the cat closer to him. Carter said something, Daniel didn't reply. It went on like this for a few minutes, and then Daniel finally muttered something. Dave could easily guess what it was: I fell down the stairs.

Dave knew he could get this kid to talk, if only Carter would let him try. If only people took him more seriously, if only people would think more of him. He could help that kid, he knew he could.

He looked down as Carter stood and exited Trauma One. Dave looked up at him expectantly, but Carter only shrugged.

"I couldn't get him to say anything," Carter replied. "I'm going to have to call down a child psyche and see if that'll work."

"Let me take a shot at it," Dave asked, making eye contact with Carter.

"If I couldn't get him to talk, what makes you think you can?" he challenged.

"I know I can," Dave said firmly. He glanced at the little boy, and then back to Carter with a sigh. "I know no one here thinks much of me, but I can get that kid to talk," he said, pointing to Daniel.

Carter sighed, unable to believe what he was about to say. "Go ahead. Give it a try. If it doesn't work and you make things worse, you'll have to answer to Weaver when the child psyche complains."

Dave moved back inside Truama One, a skeptical Carter following close behind. The kid hadn't said anything besides "I fell down the stairs" all night, as if he were going to say anything to Dave - a person who wasn't exactly the king of couth? He crossed his arms over his chest and stood nearby, and watched as Dave sat down on a stool in front of the kid, who had his legs hung over the side of the gurney, stroking his content cat. Dave almost let out a sneeze but managed to suppress it.

"I never had a cat before," Dave said, risking a severe case of hives - very *itchy* hives - by reaching out to stroke its head. He glanced at the boy to gauge his reaction when he said: "My father wouldn't let me have one." Daniel looked up at Dave for a minute, trying not to look interested, and turned back to the cat. Dave noticed his Muppet pajamas. "I always wanted a cat. I would've named him Kermit, after my favorite frog."

"I like Kermit," the little boy mumbled shyly, but didn't look at Dave. Carter raised his eyebrows, wondering why Dave hadn't become a pediatrician. He was good with kids, and he always had been willing to take them in the ER when Cleo or another pedes doctor was swamped. Carter had to admit, Dave was pretty good with kids. It was adults he sucked with.

Dave smiled warmly at the boy, still stroking the cat. He found himself scratching at his neck. Just great. He was getting a hive. Soon he'd be covered in them, and that wasn't very attractive. He knew, he had made the mistake of purchasing a cat for one of his girlfriends in college, but her parents wouldn't let her keep it, so he had been stuck taking care of it until he found it a home. During that weekend with the cat, he had been covered in hives, sneezing uncontrollably, his nose congested with fluid for weeks.

"Your dad must be nice," Dave said carefully, making sure he thought about each word before he said anything. If he was going to get Daniel to admit to anything, he had to do it right, or everything would go to shit and the poor kid would be stuck with an abusive father his whole childhood. "I mean, he's gotta be to let you have a cat of your own."

"He isn't really that nice," the boy said quietly. "A lot of people think he is, but he isn't..."

"Why isn't he?"

"He just isn't," Daniel said as he absently rubbed the scar on his neck. Dave watched him for a minute, thinking of the next tactic for his inquiry.

"Does your dad ever hit you?" Dave asked softly. Daniel only picked up the cat and held it in his arms, and Dave could tell that he wouldn't admit to anything unless he did something, and he had to do it quick or his chance would be gone. He glanced at Carter over his shoulder, and Carter thought that he saw something in Dave's eyes - shame, fear...pain? Dave looked back to the boy, making a split-second decision. "You know...my dad wasn't all that nice either. He used to hit me a lot, and sometimes I'd even have to come into the ER, just like you. One day, this nice lady - she was nurse - she said that if I told her about my dad, she could make him stop. She could make the pain go away." He paused. Doctor and patient made eye contact. "I can make the pain go away, Daniel. I can make him stop...but only if you tell me what happened."

"I love my dad," Daniel choked out, clutching the cat, as he had been when he first came in.

"I loved my dad too," Dave managed, his voice portraying more emotion than he hoped it would. He didn't dare steal a glance at Carter. He swallowed hard. "But sometimes parents do things that they don't mean to, to their children. It doesn't mean that you have get hurt and it doesn't mean that you don't love your Dad if you tell me. Please, Daniel, just tell me."

"He only does it because I'm bad," Daniel said. Images flashed in Dave's head, but he quickly pushed them to the back of his mind. He had thought the same thing when he was a child, and he wouldn't let this boy be deceived into thinking the same thing. "I try not to be bad, but I can't help it...I'm sorry. Can I go with my dad now?"

"Daniel..." Dave said, pleading with the boy with his eyes. "A good parent never lays a hand on their child, no matter how bad the child is. There's no excuse for that. Your dad needs help, I can get him help." Pause. "What happened, Daniel?"

"He calls it a snakebite," he said, and Dave exchanged glances with Carter, who had moved to the side of the gurney, both looking equally quizzical. The boy saw the confused doctor in front of him, and he indicated the two scars on his neck. Dave heard himself audibly gasp, and heard Carter say: "Oh, God..."

"He only did it once before, when I was really bad. It hurt...I didn't want him to do it again...I had to push him down the stairs. It was the only way I could get away from him. I tripped and fell down too...I didn't mean to hurt him. I was so bad. If I had just been good, none of this would've ever happened. I'm sorry. If I had let him give me the snakebite it would have been okay, but now I'm in really big trouble." Daniel looked at Dave with fear and pain. "Maybe if you give me a snakebite my dad won't be mad and I can go home."

"No, Daniel."

"Please! I want to go home!"

"Daniel, we..." Dave started, but could barely manage to form a few words, much less a sentence. He took a minute to compose his thoughts, and then looked back up to the kid. "Daniel, we can't let him do this to you anymore. He has to get help. It's our job to get him that help."

"You won't let me go home?" he asked pitifully, tears coming to his eyes and streaming down his face, meshing with the cat's fur.

"I..." Dave looked to Carter for help with desperation in his eyes, unable to keep himself together.

"Daniel," Carter said, quickly assessing the situation. What the hell was going on here? Dave was falling apart, he looked like he was about to have an emotional breakdown. His hands were visibly shaking, beads of perspiration were beginning to form over his brow, and he had a wild, desperate look in his eyes. Carter quickly moved in front of Daniel and behind the sitting Dave. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but we can't let you go home."

"But you said that you would help me!" Daniel sobbed, clutching onto Dave's arms. "You promised. You're a liar!"

That was all it took to send Dave fleeing from the room, unable to take the stifling feeling that suddenly came over him, as if he were suddenly claustrophobic. Carter turned to the retreating doctor in surprise, calling out his name and even stepping out into the hallway as the younger resident ran down the hallway and out of the ER. He couldn't go after him because he had to take care of Daniel and make sure he understood that they were doing this in his best interest, no matter how loathsome it may be.

"Is he okay?" the little boy asked, and Carter looked to see him holding the cat, standing by his side. Carter reached down and stroked the boy's blonde hair, and the boy leaned against Carter's leg.

"He'll be fine," Carter hoped, and then led the boy back inside the trauma room.

-------------------------------

And it's losing me

-------------------------------

"Where'd Daniel go?" Dave asked Haleh as he stepped inside Truama One. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his long-sleeved tee shirt. He hoped that he didn't look like that much of a mess, though he supposed he had to after spending the last half-hour crying on the roof of the hospital in the freezing cold. If anyone asked, he would just say it was his allergies. It scared Dave how easily and quickly the lies came to him. It was a useful tool in his childhood and now he was using them again.

"Who?" Haleh asked, taking down the used bag of saline from the IV pole.

"My patient. His name was Daniel," Dave said, looking around the room, trying to find him. He looked under the empty bed, then back up at Haleh. "Daniel Tucker. Little boy. About this tall? Blonde hair? Where did he go?"

"I don't know," Haleh answered briskly, tossing him a disgusted look. Something was seriously wrong with Doctor Malucci today, Haleh thought, but didn't allow herself to read too much into it. "I don't keep track of your patients. I think that's your job, Doctor."

Dave sighed, looking away, and then something caught his eye. There was Daniel, in Trauma Two, trying to pull the handcuffs off of his unconscious father. Dave quickly moved into Truama Two, pushing the doors open with one fluid movement, and the boy looked up at him with desperation in his eyes.

"Daniel..." Dave started. He walked towards the boy, watching as his pitifully tried to get the handcuffs off of his father, who was due to wake up any moment. He had been unconscious for several hours due to a concussion, and Doctor Weaver said that he would be awake soon. Dave didn't want to be in here when he woke up - he was afraid of what he might do or say to Daniel's father, he knew from experience that he said the wrong thing, he could make it worse for Daniel. "Daniel, you have to stay inside your room."

"Why?" he asked as Dave took his hand and tried to lead him back into Truama One. The boy resisted, grabbing the chain of the cuffs and holding tightly. Jesus. Dave didn't know if he could do this much longer. He would've traded this case totally off to Carter if he didn't feel some sort of connection with the boy - which he did. It was almost as if he needed to make sure Daniel would be okay. "Why can't I stay with my dad? And why is he locked up like that? He didn't do anything wrong, Doctor Dave. It was my fault. I told you I was bad."

Dave let out a silent sigh. He tried to think of several ways to explain to this child what his father had done wrong, but he couldn't manage to find any that would make him understand - hell, Dave didn't understand it either. The abuse was something that happened often, most likely, and something that Daniel was misled into believing that happened to all bad children.

"Daniel, you can't stay with your dad," he said, struggling desperately to get this kid out of the room. There was a stirring from the bed, and Dave quickly bent down to pick the boy up. "Come on, Daniel. Back to your room."

"Wait!" Daniel screamed, twisting in Dave's arms to get out of them. Dave slung the kid over his shoulder, but a swift kick to the ribs and he was out of his grasp and clutching the bed, where his father was quickly regaining consciousness. Dave now let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, Doctor Dave, he's waking up! Now you can make him all better and we can go home! You and the other doctor can help him like you said!"

"We can't do that," Dave said firmly. Daniel's father, Jack Tucker, pulled at the cuffs, slightly disoriented by his surroundings. Dave couldn't help but comment snidely. "Nice to see you awake, Mister Tucker."

"What the hell happened?" he asked, glancing around the room quizzically, then at the boy and back to Dave.

"You were placed under arrest," Dave said, picking up the chart and idly looking through it. He was unable to conceal his anger towards the man, but in reality he didn't really want to. It was men like him that made the world a sick place. Who knew how this would scar Daniel? God knows how much Dave's own abuse had scarred him.

"Why?" he asked, shock clearly visible on his face. He glanced at his child, who quickly cast his eyes towards the floor, shifting from one foot to another. Jack looked back to Dave, almost startled by the hatred in the younger man's eyes.

"I think you know why," he replied evenly. He set his jaw, holding out his hand to Daniel. "Come on, Daniel. We have to get back to your room."

"I don't want to go," the little boy replied quietly, still not daring eye contact with anyone.

"You don't have much of a choice," Dave replied more coldly than he had intended. He immediately cast an apologetic glace at Daniel when the boy flinched, but Daniel wasn't looking at him.

"Don't talk to my son like that," Jack snapped harshly from his bed. Dave scoffed, a bitter smile on his face. "What the hell are you smirking at? You have no right to speak to my boy like that. Where the hell is a doctor?"

"You're looking at one," Dave replied, and Jack seemed startled that the young man standing in front of him was a doctor. He didn't have the appearance of a doctor; he had assumed that he was a nurse or an orderly or something of that sort - anything but a doctor. Dave turned to Daniel, holding out his hand again, this time trying not to sound so harsh. "Daniel. Let's go. Please? We have to go back to your room. Now."

"I want to stay with my dad!" he whined, stomping his foot for added effect. He pulled at his father's handcuffs again.

"You can't," Dave said, beginning to get desperate. His gaze shifted to the trauma room doors. Maybe he should get a nurse to do this...

"Why?" the boy asked, shouting now and getting increasingly angry with the doctor.

"Because you can't," Dave replied shortly, then let out a sigh as Daniel sat down on the floor and burst into tears. "Hey...kid..."

"I want another doctor in here!" Jack yelled, loud enough so that he could be heard outside of the room. He glanced to Dave with the most sinister look in his eyes that the junior resident had ever seen. "You're upsetting my son, and you're being awfully rude to me! Don't think your superior isn't going to hear about this! I want another doctor!"

"How dare I be rude to you!" Dave exclaimed incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air. "You want another doctor? Fine. I'll get you one. But they're just going to tell you the same thing I am. You're under arrest for child abuse."

"I'd never hurt my child."

"Then how do you explain the bruises? How do you explain the burns?" Dave said, his anger increasing as well. He moved over to Daniel and bent down and picked him up in a swift movement, holding the crying boy firmly so the couldn't get away again. "Have a nice day, Mister Tucker. In fact, why don't you have a nice life? As nice as you can have in prison."

"Where are you going with my son?!" he yelled, though his efforts to get out of the handcuffs and to Dave and his son were fruitless. Dave stormed out of the trauma room with Daniel screaming and sobbing in his arms, and the young doctor felt tears come to his own eyes. "Get back here with my son! Get back here!"

And even after Dave had deposited Daniel to a nurse, even after he had left the ER, even after he was on the elevators, heading back up to the roof to take another break, even after he had decided to forget that kid and hand off the case to someone more capable, someone like Carter, he could still hear Jack's voice echoing in his head.

-------------------------------

Where have all the merrymakers gone?

-------------------------------

"Where the hell is Doctor Malucci?" Kerry asked as she crutched angrily down the hallway. She stopped at admin, narrowing her eyes at the doctors and clerks, silently demanding an answer.

"I saw him go that way," Frank answered brusquely. She swore one of these days she was going to kill that desk clerk.

"Which way?" Kerry snapped, turning to him. He was indicating the elevators. "Is he up on the roof again? My God, he was just up there about forty-five minutes ago!"

She walked to the elevators and quickly got on, hitting the floor to get onto the roof several times in a row as if it would make the elevator go faster. She waited rather impatiently as the doors closed, and then taped her fingers on her crutch as she rode up. Dave was really going to get it. When she got her hands on him she swore she was going to use her crutch for an unintended use.

-------------------------------

Some people will surprise you

With the real depth of feeling

And others still may shock, shock, shock you

With all that they're revealing

-------------------------------

Dave was on the roof, sitting on the edge of the hospital building, shivering in the cold night air, his legs hanging over, contemplating. What if he just jumped? Would anyone care? Certainly no one at work, but he knew his mother would miss him. He sniffled, wiping his nose hastily with his sleeve, then glanced at his hand, which was swollen but looked much better than that hole he had punched into the wall in his anger. He stared out over the city, wishing to be out there right now instead of stuck in his own personal Hell here at the hospital. But then again, he'd have to return sooner or later. The events of the city would only mask his problems for so long. He'd always have to come back to them...unless he just..."fell"...

He sighed. That kid had really gotten to him. At least now he was Carter's problem and not his. When he was a child, he could remember always being someone else's problem - his mother's problem or his father's problem...did he really want that for the kid? He remembered promising himself that he would never do that to a child, whether it was someone else's or his own. He could hear himself in his head: "It doesn't matter. What matters is helping this kid." He was such a hypocrite, such a fucking hypocrite. He sneered at himself and shook his head in disgust.

He was just like his father.

-------------------------------

But one thing's sure

There's always more

Information then you asked for

Ask for this

-------------------------------

The elevator doors opened, and Kerry began taking the stairs to the roof. She could already feel the chill of the night biting at her bad knee. She angrily pushed the door open to the roof, and saw Dave sitting at the edge of the building. She clearly startled him as he turned to face her.

She was surprised as well; he was visibly upset. She could tell by his tear-stained face that he had obviously been crying, and he looked worn by the day's events. They stayed there, staring at each other for a moment before Dave quickly stood and moved towards the staircase, and Kerry immediately wished there weren't two exits off of the roof. She moved towards him, trying to catch him, but it was too late. He was already inside and already gone.

She stopped and let out a sigh, looking away from the staircase door and to the cityscape. She glanced at the spot where Dave had just been sitting. What could be so trying today that would cause him to get so upset? She had never seen him show any other type of emotion besides anger, and his crying surprised her. Dave was just as much of a person as she was. Go figure.

-------------------------------

Just enough knowledge to know

I don't know anything, anything, anything

I don't know, no

But it likes what I like

That's how I like it

-------------------------------

"Hey, Dave," he heard from next to him. He glanced up from the soda machine in Chairs and to his right, where Kerry was standing, leaning lightly on her crutch. He often wondered why she had it, remembered when he had inquired about it, then remembered that it was also none of his business but knew that he could speculate. Sometimes he considered that she didn't even need it, that maybe it was just something to scare the residents with - specifically him. He found it oddly humorous. "Is everything...okay?"

"Yeah, Chief," he replied, offering her a half-hearted smile that he hoped looked genuine. He didn't dare eye contact after their interaction on the roof earlier. He hoped that she had forgotten about it already, that maybe she didn't even care enough to think about it, but it seemed as if she did remember, and maybe she did care. But he also knew that he wasn't doing too well pretending everything was okay. Was his dip in disposition noticeable? He indicated the machine. "Stupid thing ate my change."

A swift hit with her crutch, and two cans of soda dispensed from the machine. Slightly stunned, Dave bent down and picked them up, handing one to her, still not looking at her.

"You just have to show it who's boss," she said matter-of-factly, and then smiled. "Sort of like with residents." She frowned a bit when he didn't respond her joke.

"Thanks," he said after a brief pause, then quickly started to walk away from her while opening his Coke.

"Dave..." she called. Shit. It appeared that she wasn't going to let him get away that easily. He turned, lifting the can to his lips and taking a sip, and they both noticed that his hand was shaking, but he hoped that she hadn't noticed how swollen his right hand was. He quickly put his hands to his sides. "Are you sure everything's okay? And I think you should get your hand looked at..."

"Positive," he replied. "And my hand's fine." What was her sudden interest in his mood? Was it affecting his work? Kerry nodded, and Dave quickly turned, moving in a direction he'd taken only once before for this specific reason.

He moved towards the drug lock-up.

He was hoping that he'd be alone when he got there, but to his dismay, Luka was inside, searching the cabinets for something, and he only noticed the older man once he was inside the small room. He quickly turned to leave, hoping the attending hadn't seen him.

"Dave." Double shit. He steeled himself and turned, tossing Luka a strained smile. Up until now, he'd managed to evade the attending. "Do you need something?"

"Uh...no," he replied after some contemplation. He started to turn again, but Luka stopped him once more.

"Are you sure?" he asked, finally locating the morphine for his arm dislocation in Curtain Area Three. He faced Dave, raising his eyebrows. "You must've come in here for something." Luka could tell that Dave was very upset, and he wanted to know why.

"Uh..." he stammered. Leave. Turn and leave. Just leave. But he couldn't. His feet were glued to the floor. He felt like he had been caught red-handed, and he hadn't even done anything yet. "I have this patient...she's pretty depressed, so I made an appointment with Doctor DeRaad, but the earliest he had was tomorrow afternoon. I was going to give her some Klonipin to hold her over until then."

Luka and Dave made eye contact. He knew his excuse sounded lame, but it was plausible. However, the only patient he had right now was a head lac in Two, and he hoped that Luka hadn't decided to memorize the patient board before coming in here.

"Here's the key." Dave silently let out the breath he had been holding. "Make sure you lock up and give it back to me when you're finished in here."

"Thanks," Dave said, and Luka handed Dave the key, the attending's hand lingering longer on Dave's than it should have. Dave quickly put distance between the two. Luka didn't take the hint and leave, like Dave was hoping that he would. Instead, he stayed where he was, staring Dave down. "Is there something you want, Luka?"

"Yes," he replied, leaning against the counter, which Dave interpreted as a signal that he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. "I told you I wanted to speak with you."

"Right," Dave remembered, cursing himself. He should've just left when he had the chance. He took a deep breath, knowing what Luka wanted to speak of. Luka wanted to talk about *them*, even though there was no *them* - and Dave tried to convince himself that there never had been.

"For the sake of our patients," he started, sensing Dave's uneasiness, which was apparent as the younger man crossed his arms, uncrossed them, re-crossed them again, then shifted his weight to his other foot. "For the sake of our patients," he said again, "I think we need to learn how to work together."

"I totally agree," he replied, picking up an empty bottle of Morphine that had been left haphazardly on the counter of the drug lockup. He played with the empty bottle in his hand, hoping that by moving them around quite a bit Luka wouldn't notice how badly they were shaking. Glancing up, he saw Luka watching his hands, realized it wasn't working, somehow managed to drop the bottle. There was a pause, and then he let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry...I'm sort of on over-drive today. I think I've had too much coffee, it's making me shaky..."

No one made a move for the broken glass; both stayed exactly where they were. The air tasted stale to Dave suddenly, as if this room had been closed off and hadn't been aired out for a while. He felt almost as if he were suffocating, but managed to calm his nerves quickly, knowing that it was all in his head.

"Are you all right, Dave?" Luka asked softly. "Your hand is swollen and you seem upset." Dave could feel Luka's eyes on him, but didn't want to look up and into them because of what he might see: that Luka actually cared. Upon seeing that, he knew that he would allow Luka to do things that they had done on many occasions, allow Luka to do things that he would later regret - just like every time. Wrapped up in that thought, he forgot to reply. "Dave?"

"I'm fine," he replied quickly, crossing his arms again to hide his shaking hands. Quickly glancing at Luka before fixing his eyes on the shattered glass, he saw that the attending did not look convinced. "Really. It's just...long night."

"Does it have anything to do with that trauma that came in earlier?" Luka asked. If Dave thought that Luka didn't notice the way Dave acted around every similar case that came into the ER, he was surely wrong. Luka saw the look in his eyes, the far away, pained look in his eyes every time he was faced with the same situation in the ER. And now, Dave looked up at Luka, his expression showing his surprise, but his eyes displaying that same look. He had never been on that level of intimacy where he could inquire about it, and now he wished he had.

Dave let out a sigh, not looking at Luka for a long time. "It just..." He pursed his lips, clenching his jaw. He finally looked up into Luka's eyes again, the desperation in them so intense Luka couldn't look away. "Sometimes..."

He never got to finish.

"Luka!" The attending could see Kerry from where he was standing, but Dave had to turn to see her. She had startled the both of them. "Trauma! Now! And call housekeeping to clean up this mess!"

She left as suddenly as she had appeared, and when Luka looked back to Dave, the resident would not look at him. Luka wished Dave would look at him. But the moment was gone, and now Dave was back to being jumpy and nervous, each action timid and reflecting his frame of mind, which was probably just as scattered as the glass on the floor.

"I'd better go," Luka stated. Dave merely nodded, still not making eye contact. "But...I'd like to talk with you..."

"No," Dave replied without thinking, shaking his head. And then when he realized what he had said: "I mean...no. No."

"Dave..."

"You'd better go," the junior resident said, quickly cutting him off before the attending could get out anything more. Luka moved out of the drug lock-up, but not before glancing dejectedly at Dave once more.

When he was alone, Dave closed the door quietly, then searched the shelf for the Klonipin, which was a type of benzodiazipine. He knew that it was common for residents and medical students to take something during a long and/or hard shift, but Dave had managed to stay away from drugs...until Shelly.

He remembered Shelley, the patient that he would never forget even if he tried. She had come in after a car accident with her father, and soon just a few bumps and bruises turned into something more. He and Doctor Finch, who had been the two ER physicians working on her, discovered that her father had raped her. That had really hit home for him, and after she had left, he still couldn't get his mind off of it. Long ago, he had sworn that if he became a doctor, he would never abuse the privilege of being able to get drugs easily, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get through that shift without taking something, so he had snuck into the drug lock-up. He hadn't liked the feeling he had gotten after taking the pills, and had felt so guilty about taking the amphetamines he had sworn never to take them again.

But now here he was, running from his problems once again.

He managed to convince himself that he just needed something to help him relax, to stead his mood. If everyone else could self-medicate, why couldn't he? He was a resident after all, and he knew all about drugs. It wouldn't be like he was using coke or heroin. He wouldn't be endangering any of his patients by taking something to take the edge off.

He found the benzodiazipines right next to the amphetamines. He screwed open the bottle and shook two Klonipins into his hand. He stared at them for a moment, unsure of his decision. But he needed it, he didn't want it. And there wasn't anything wrong with needing; if he'd wanted it it'd be a whole different story. Quickly, Dave popped one of the pills into his mouth and swallowed, keeping the other one incase he needed it later.

Later in the shift, Dave felt himself dragging and was thankful that he hadn't taken both of the Klonipins. His whole body was screaming for him to lay down somewhere and sleep. Damn it, he thought. The Klonopin was knocking him off his feet. When there was a lull in the action of the ER, Dave took the chance to walk back into the drug lock up to return the extra Klonopin; he definitely didn't need a second one.

"Hey, Dave," he heard from behind him. Dave quickly closed his hand into a fist and crossed his arms, then turned to see Carter standing behind him. Once Dave turned towards him, Carter frowned, his expression turning to concern. "Do you feel okay? You look tired, more than anything. Maybe you should take a nap."

"I'm fine," Dave said. "What do you need?"

"Just wanted to get some morphine," he said. "I left the bottle on the counter when that trauma came in...I was just coming back to get it."

"You mean that bottle?" Dave asked, indicating the glass on the floor. Carter sighed, then glanced up at Dave, who was studying the glass. Carter had never seen someone whose whole *body* looked tired. Dave seemed as if he were going to collapse any second from sleep deprivation. Dave glanced up, catching Carter watching him. "Grab another one while I've got the key. Kovac gave it to me so I could grab some Klonipin for one of my patients. I was supposed to give it back to him but I forgot."

"Thanks," Carter said as he grabbed some off of the shelf. He gave Dave a reassuring smile, but wasn't sure if that was going to cheer up the younger resident. At least he'd tried. Once he had the bottle, Carter moved towards the door. He turned back, and odd feeling surrounding him. "Are you sure you're okay, Dave?"

Dave gave the best smile he could right now. "Positive. See you later."

Carter nodded, then left the room. Dave glanced at his open palm, the pill sitting there, but soon returned it to the correct bottle. He stood there, looking at he various pills at his disposal when he paused. Carter had mentioned that he was tired, and now that he had Dave could feel the day's events catching up to him. Before he could stop himself, he took the Dexedrine off the shelf, knowing he would soon be wide-awake again, and only briefly hesitated before he popped it into his mouth.

Bottoms up.

-------------------------------

Something so personal

At least they should be

Or is it too much

Much to ask you just to

-------------------------------

"Hey, Carter," Dave said as he bounded a corner to catch up to the senior resident and take him by surprise. Carter turned, raising his eyebrows questioningly at the younger man, trying to balance the bundle of charts under his arms. Why did he insist on having to tell Kerry about the organization of the Admin desk? Now he was stuck organizing it, including charts. "That kid that came in earlier...Daniel Tucker...is he still here?"

"The child abuse kid?" Carter asked absently as a chart started slipping from his grasp. "Yeah...DCFS didn't come yet."

"Do you still have his chart?" Dave asked. Carter glanced at the bunch in his arms, and started to look through them, still holding the falling chart precariously in his hand. It was around here somewhere...

"Shit!" Carter said as the chart slipped from his grasp and to the floor. Dave reflexively tried to catch it, but fumbled and it hit the floor. Then a rushing nurse knocked into Carter, causing all the charts to fall and scatter to the floor. Both men stared at the charts for a minute. "Shit."

Carter bent down to pick them up, and Dave squatted down next to him to help. A chart caught his eye, and Carter reached out and picked it up and held it out to Dave.

"Here's Daniel's chart," he reported, and Dave took it from them. Carter couldn't help but notice the tremor in Dave's hands. When the charts were collected and back in Carter's hands, he said: "Thanks."

"No problem," Dave said inattentively as he started flipping through the various pages of the chart. Carter watched him curiously, wondering exactly what it was he was looking for, then moved to peer over his shoulder. Dave looked up suddenly and smiled brightly at Carter, who could immediately see through the bravado. "Thanks."

The junior resident started to walk away, chart in hand.

"I thought you didn't want the case...?" Carter said, his words curling into a question.

Dave shrugged, still smiling. "Changed my mind."

Carter watched as Dave walked to Curtain Area 3, where Daniel now was since they had moved him. His gait had been smooth and steady, but now it faltered as he neared the door, and he even stopped suddenly outside the room. He glanced at Carter, who didn't look away but kept his worried expression, and Dave turned back to the door and opened it, stepping inside and plastering on a smile.

Where the hell had he gotten the sudden burst of energy? Carter thought. Must be too much coffee. But there was something else about Dave too that didn't sit well with Carter; his coordination was off and he seemed to be slurring his words...strange.

-------------------------------

Maintain a little, maintain a little, maintain a little,

Maintain a little, maintain a little, maintain a little

-------------------------------

"Hey, kiddo," Dave said brightly as he entered Daniel's room. Daniel glanced up from his cat, which he was stroking gently on the bed, but looked back down, his face expressionless. Dave stepped further inside the room, approaching the boy's bed, unsure of what to do now. He waited for Daniel to say something, hoping the boy would say something as he awkwardly reached out and stroked the cat gently.

"What's going to happen to him?" Daniel asked, looking at the cat but not at Dave.

"Who?" he asked rather stupidly.

"My dad," the little boy said.

"Uh..." Dave said, unsure of how to answer him. He debated over whether or not to tell the truth, but he knew Daniel probably already knew it. After all, Dave had blurted it out when he had dragged the boy from the Trauma room where his father was. "He's going to go to jail."

"What's going to happen to *me*?" he asked quietly.

Dave sat down on the bed next to the cat, which was between him and Daniel. "You're going to go to a foster home and live with another family," he said softly, "and no one's going to hurt you anymore."

There was a long silence while both stroked the cat, which was purring loudly. Dave stopped petting the cat and began to read over the chart, which was probably about the tenth time he had done it. He could practically recite it by now, but his nerves were getting the best of him and he had to do something besides just sit there. The cat rubbed against Dave's arm, trying to get Dave to pet it more. Instead, Dave scratched furiously at another hive, a new one that had formed on his neck.

"What about my cat?" Daniel asked, looking up at Dave with his big blue eyes. "Can he come with me?"

Dave shook his head sadly. "I don't think so."

"Can you come with me?"

His heart broke. "No, I have to stay here."

Another long silence, and Dave wished that he could do something for this boy. Then again, he wished that he could do something for all the children that came in here that were just like Daniel - all the ones that were just like him.

"Then can you do me a favor, Doctor Dave?" the little boy asked quietly.

Dave smiled. "Sure thing, kiddo."

"Can you make sure that my cat gets a good home?"

"You bet," he said, glad that he could at least do something for this child. He smiled, playfully punching the kid in the arm, then reaching out to tickle him, and Daniel laughed uncontrollably as Dave found a sensitive area.

There was a sudden knock at the door, breaking the two from their moment of fun, and Gladys the social worker entered the room, standing with two crutches under her arms and two other adults behind her that Dave recognized from the local group home. Dave stood next to Daniel, who cast his eyes to the ground as soon as he realized what was happening.

"Hey, kiddo," Dave said, leaning down to he could be at eyelevel with the kid. Daniel looked up at Dave with sadness in his eyes. "These people are going to take good care of you." He tossed the kid a half-hearted smile as he ran his fingers through Daniel's hair. On impulse, he kissed the boy's forehead. Dave then stood, unsure of what to say or do next. Should he bid farewell? He decided on silence as the boy was picked up by one of the two from the group home. Dave could see that he was afraid as tears started to run down the boy's face. Maybe silence wasn't the way to go. "Hey. You gotta be brave, all right? You'll be okay."

"Okay," he replied quietly, sniffling, but more tears came. The boy suddenly looked up at Dave. "Please come with me, Doctor Dave?"

Dave could feel the eyes watching him, anticipating his answer. He glanced around self-consciously, then looked back to the boy. "I told you I can't," he said softly, but followed the three out the door and into the hallway. "But I can walk you to the car."

"Okay," he said again. Dave followed them out to the ambulance bay, where a taxi was waiting for them. The two people stepped inside the taxi and the boy went in with them. Dave stood at the open door, ready to close it when he heard Daniel gasp audibly, and when he glanced at him he saw that he was sobbing.

"Daniel..."

"I don't want to go," he said, looking up at Dave as if the doctor could do something. "I want to stay with my dad. Please, please, don't make me go. I'll be good! I'll be good, Doctor Dave!" he pleaded as he grabbed the bottom of Dave's scrub top.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "I wish it didn't have to be like this, Daniel. I'm sorry."

"Please, Doctor Dave," he pleaded with everything he had. Dave opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come; he couldn't find his voice. He managed to remove Daniel's hands and close the taxi door, standing in the cold as the taxi drove away, and even still standing there when it was gone, when it was long gone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one but himself.

-------------------------------

Take the cynical saint

To the stake

And you're burning

-------------------------------

Dave sat on the ledge outside in the ambulance bay, watching the different cars go by, lost in his own thoughts. Now that he could think clearly again because the pills had worn off, he had contemplated taking another two, but had quickly decided against it. He didn't need to get addicted to drugs. The ER was in a lull; no ambulances were in the bay, no *people* were in the bay. It seemed like he was the only person in the world right now, and he wished it were true. It would solve a lot of problems for everyone. He wouldn't be in their lives, and they wouldn't be in his.

He picked up his coffee from Doc's and inhaled the steam, hoping the scent would clear his mind. He took a sip and placed it back down next to him, and then continued his watch, making sure the moon was still there and the stars were still shining.

"Hey," he heard from next to him, and then slightly jumped in surprise. He turned to see Carter, who had managed to sneak up on him. He hadn't been that lost in thought, had he? Dave concluded that he was just focused. "Sorry," Carter apologized for startling him.

Carter wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, feeling a slight chill in the autumn air. He was just about ready to go home when he had seen the younger resident sitting outside by himself, and he wondered what he was doing out here. Then he realized that Daniel was just taken into DCFS custody ten minutes ago. Obviously, Dave was making sure that he was okay. Carter looked down at Dave and noticed that he was shivering.

"I think I should be the one apologizing," Dave said, reaching under his scrub top to scratch at a hive. He only had a few, thank God, but they were still itchy and annoying as hell. At least he wasn't sneezing anymore, though his nose was still clogged. He looked at Carter. "You aren't the one that ran out in the middle of a trauma."

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'the middle of a trauma'," Carter said, trying to be reassuring.

"Yeah, but I dumped that case on you. That wasn't right."

"You finished the case, Dave," Carter said softly. "You know, you handled that case better than I ever could've. I was impressed. You should be too."

Dave shook his head at himself and took another sip of his coffee. Carter noticed that Dave's hands were shaking, and wondered if it was from the cold or from something else. Carter studied him as the resident looked up at the stars. He had a nice facial bone structure, full lips, hair that was always tousled, and he was all-around handsome. Sometimes he wished he had Dave's looks or the same suave way about him that he did with women, and would even go as far to say that he could even be a little envious of the man. Once or twice he wondered what it was like to be him, what it was like to be David Malucci. After that trauma, he wasn't so sure he wanted to know. "Was it true? What you said to Daniel, I mean?"

Dave nodded after a moment. "Most of it," he replied cryptically.

"What part wasn't?" Carter asked, hoping he wasn't pushing it too far. Sometimes he couldn't help the things that came out of his mouth, his curiosity always getting the best of him. There was a pause, and Carter thought Dave wasn't going to answer for a moment.

"The part about me telling someone," he stated quietly, examining his coffee. They sat in silence for a moment, and Dave changed the subject before it became uncomfortable. "Hey, are we still on for that beer?"

"I don't know..." Carter answered, still not fond of the idea. Weighing out his options, he found a nice, warm bed more tempting than a beer with one of his coworkers.

"It's just one beer," Dave said, his eye brows raised, a glint in his eye, indicating that it was going to be more than just one beer. Probably a whole night of beers, in fact.

"After today's shift, I just wanted to sleep," Carter said, standing. Dave stood as well.

"No problem, maybe some other time," Dave said softly as he made his way back to the ER. His head was hung and he looked totally defeated.

If today was rough for him, Carter thought, how was it for Dave? Carter also couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with Dave, something more than his past and more than what happened in the trauma.

"Dave!" Carter called. The junior resident turned expectantly. "One beer, then I'm going home to sleep."

"You don't have to worry about that," Dave said innocently. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be too tired to do *anything* but sleep."

Carter looked away and broke into a grin. "Fine," he said, giving in. "Just *one* beer. That's all, and then I'm going home. Got it?"

"Yes, mom," he replied, smirking. "I'll see you later then." He paused. "Carter...could you maybe...keep it a secret, what I said in the trauma today?"

"Sure," he replied, as if the idea of telling everyone was incredulous. "I wasn't going to say anything anyway."

"Thanks."

Dave turned to go back to the ER, but stopped and turned back, hesitating. Carter watched him, waiting for him to do or say something. He seemed to think about it for a moment, and then looked at Carter. Dave took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He was going to do it. He was going to do it right now, he kept telling himself. Don't chicken out, you ass. Don't chicken out. Dave didn't know if it was still the drugs giving him the courage or what, but he knew that it was going to happen right now or it never would.

Carter raised his eyebrows as if to ask him what he wanted. Dave looked away with a smile, and then suddenly reached out and took Carter's face in his hands and kissed him on the lips. Dave pulled away from the kiss as abruptly as he had started it, and Carter looked at him, shock written all over his face, and Dave couldn't help but grin at his expression.

"See you at nine," Dave said as he turned and started back towards the ER, his mood more elated than it had been in a long time.

"Right," Carter managed, still in shock, but Dave was already inside the ER. He turned and glanced behind him, then realized that he was alone. He touched his fingers to his lips, wondering just how he could make his heart stop pounding like that.

-------------------------------

This radio, this radio silence, silence

This radio, this radio silence, silence

This radio, this radio, radio silence

This radio, this radio, radio silence

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Three: Here, Tonight -------------------------------

Are you going to live your life wondering

Standing in the back, looking around?

Are you going to waste your time thinking

How you've grown up, how you've missed out?

-------------------------------

"And I am outta here!" Dave said, signing off his last chart with a flourish. It was a little after nine - nine-ten to be exact, Dave thought as he glanced at the clock above the admin desk - and he was all set and ready to leave. "Later, guys," he said to no one in particular. "*I* have a date."

"Yeah, right," Randi snorted, not glancing up from the computer she was working on. "With who? Carter?"

Dave grinned, but it vanished as soon as his ear picked up on a too familiar sound. Ambulance sirens. An ambulance was approaching - make that several ambulances. He caught Abby's eye, and they glanced at the clock-out at the same moment, and then suddenly sprinted for it. They were both off at nine, and no way in hell was either going to stay for this trauma if they could help it.

They raced to the end of the hall, and Abby actually pushed him to get there first. He stumbled but did not fall, and quickly regained his balance. They reached the clock-out at the same time, and he wrapped an arm around her and picked her up, holding her away from it.

"Let go!" she yelled as he managed to use his other hand to grab his punch-out card. She kicked him in the shin, and he let her go in surprise with a yelp, falling right on his butt.

"Dave! Abby!" Weaver yelled, fast approaching, wearing a trauma gown and gloves.

Abby clocked out, and then turned to him with a snicker as he sat on the floor, rubbing his shin. "Ha. See you later, Dave."

"I had a date!" he yelled to her, and then a trauma gown was dropped on him. He pulled it off of his head and stood, brushing himself off. Great. Just fucking great. If there was any chance that Carter was waiting out there, it had totally just vanished in a puff of smoke.

-------------------------------

Things are never going to be the way you want

Where's it going to get you acting serious?

Things are never going to be quite what you want

Even at twenty-five, you got to start sometime

-------------------------------

Dave clocked out with a sigh, holding his jacket in the crook of his elbow and his backpack tossed over his shoulder. It was twelve midnight, and he had finally finished the trauma. He had been elbow deep in a poor girl's chest for almost two hours, trying to save her life by pumping her heart himself, but it wouldn't fill with blood because of a hole underneath. By the time he and his trauma partner, Dr. Corday, had figured that out, it had been too late. She had crashed and almost immediately gone asystole.

All for nothing, he thought bitterly. And all because of a stupid drunk who couldn't think enough to take a cab home from the bar he'd been to, now a girl was dead. The only fatality of the whole pileup. And of course, with Dave's luck he had to have been the one to get the trauma case. It'd be really nice right now, he thought, if he had someone to go home to and be there for him after rough days like this one when he felt so alone.

He pulled his jacket on, preparing for the cold - and not to mention lonely - ride home on his bike, and walked to the ER doors, bidding goodnight to the nightshift. He walked outside, feeling the terribly bitter wind brushing against his face harshly. Mother Nature wasn't going to be very kind tonight; he was going to have a frozen ass by the time he got home.

He turned to the bike rack, and was startled when he saw that his blue bicycle wasn't there. Where the hell had it gone? Oh, this was *so* just his day. He sighed, scanning the ambulance bay for the person who might've stolen his precious ride home when he noticed a black Jeep Wrangler parked across the street in front of Doc Magoo's.

And he was just plain surprised when he saw that his precious ride home was hitched to the back of it.

Then he smiled as he crossed the ambulance bay.

-------------------------------

I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go

And all I need is just to hear a song I know

I want to always feel like part of this was mine

I want to fall in love tonight

-------------------------------

Carter sat in his Jeep, looking at the different people sitting inside Doc Magoo's, almost studying them. They seemed so normal; he wondered what kind of abnormalities they possessed. He wondered what kind of problems they faced when they arrived to work, when they arrived home from work. Carter could see that that female nurse obviously flirting with the male doctor sitting across from her had a wedding ring on; he could see it glinting in the light. And he could see when the male doctor moved his hands while he talked, he didn't have one on. Was she happily married? Was she a naturally flirty person? He knew a girl in high school like that once.

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as a Jimmy Eat World song came onto the local rock station that he always listened to. He glanced at the clock. It was already a few minutes after twelve. He had seen that whole herd of ambulances come, and knew that Dave had probably been forced to stay. He could've left when he had the chance.

So why was he still here, sitting in the freezing cold Jeep, with Dave Malucci's bike hitched to the back of it?

A sudden tap on the window startled him out of his thoughts. No turning back now. He unlocked the car, and the door opened and Dave hopped in.

Should he say something? Should he mention the kiss? Should he let Dave say something first? He decided on silence. If Dave wanted to say something, somehow Carter knew he would. Dave wasn't one to keep his mouth shut.

Carter started his Jeep and put it into the right gear, and began to pull out of his parking space, not daring to say a word, hoping that Dave would break the silence before it became too uncomfortable. He soon did. "You've changed."

-------------------------------

Are you going to live your life

Standing in the back looking around?

Are you going to waste your time?

Got to make a move or you'll miss out

-------------------------------

Carter suddenly stopped short. He looked at the younger resident. "What?"

"You've changed," he said, looking at him with a smile. Carter only returned his smile with a black stare. "Your clothes. You've changed your clothes."

"Oh!" Carter said, feeling absolutely foolish. "Yeah, I didn't want to go to a bar in a suit..." He started onto the road again, wondering what exactly he had been thinking when Dave had told him that he had changed. He decided not to ponder on it, that he didn't really want to right now. "Do you want to stop by your place and change before you go?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "Nah," he decided, then grinned. "Scrubs might impress the ladies."

Boy, Carter thought, this was going to be one interesting night.

-------------------------------

Someone's going to ask you what it's all about

Stick around nostalgia won't let you down

Someone's going to ask you what it's all about

What are you going to have to say for yourself?

-------------------------------

Dave sat back leisurely in his seat at a table inside the bar, cradling his beer lazily in his left hand, his legs spread and his eyes wandering over the crowd of bodies gathered inside, some dancing on the floor, some drinking at the bar, some eating at tables, some flirting, some keeping to themselves. This bar was known for harboring every type of person in Chicago: from rich to poor, young to old, radical to average, straight to gay, beautiful to ugly, foreign to native.

Just his type of bar.

Stealing a glance at his companion, he could tell that Carter was comfortable here. Almost everyone was because it was a mixed crowd where everyone went to escape, sometimes from the outside world and sometimes from themselves. You could be anyone you wanted to be here - anyone at all - and nobody cared.

"You know those things will kill you," Dave said as Carter lit a cigarette. Dave hadn't known that the senior resident smoked, but just because you were a doctor and knew all of the risks didn't mean that you'd actually listen to them. He knew that he didn't.

"You'd make an excellent doctor," Carter said with a grin, and then took in a slow drag. He held out the pack to Dave. "Would you like one?"

Dave shook his head as he took a drink, and then swallowed the cheap beer. "I don't smoke. Used to, but not anymore. I quit before I came to Chicago."

"When did you start?" Carter asked. The conversation during the night had been very easy, and even surprisingly enjoyable. Dave had turned out to be quite an interesting guy, with hobbies ranging from boxing to mountain biking to skydiving. Carter hadn't done any of those things - and didn't intend to - but he had his share of stories to tell. He was genuinely having a good time tonight, which was something that rarely happened. He had been so wrapped up in his career and his family that he never took the time to have a guy's night out, and it had been exactly what he needed.

"Back in Grenada," Dave said after giving it some thought. He caught a leggy blonde's eye, who was sitting on the other side of the bar, and she smiled at him flirtatiously. Uninterested, he smiled back politely, and turned away from her, facing Carter now. He seemed to think for a moment. "You want to go someplace more private?"

-------------------------------

I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go

And all I need is just to hear a song I know

I want to always feel like part of this was mine

I want to fall in love tonight

-------------------------------

"What do you mean?" Carter asked cautiously, his eyes narrowing. He glanced at the blonde who had smiled at Dave. On any other night Carter would've thought that Dave would've jumped to take her back to his place, but tonight was ending up to be an unusual night, so he wasn't surprised. Maybe it was the full moon, Carter thought. Or maybe I've been sucked into an alternate universe.

"It's too crowded in here," Dave said casually. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, placing down a ten on the table to cover for the beers that he'd consumed so far. Carter had just drunk sodas, and Dave had wondered why, but knew it wasn't his business to ask. It was too personal a question, and Dave wasn't sure if they were even *friends*. "Let's go back to my place for some real beer." He noticed Carter's wary glance, so he grinned and tried a joke to ease the guy up. "That is - unless you're willing to take David Malucci to the Carter family mansion. I'm sure your folks would just love me."

Pause. "What kind of beer do you have?"

Dave laughed. "That's what I thought."

-------------------------------

Crimson and clover

Over and over

Crimson and clover

Over and over

-------------------------------

Dave opened the two Heinekens, tossed the two bottle caps into the garbage in the corner of the kitchen, and placed one beer in front of Carter. Both sat down at the table across from each other, and Carter took the chance to look around the apartment. There was a living room that was attached to the kitchen nook, and then a hallway that he presumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The apartment was fairly neat though it was small and visibly worn. It was nicer than what he had expected, even though he didn't know exactly what he had been expecting. Probably a bachelor pad: take-out boxes strewn about, clothes all over the place, a pack of condoms on the end table.

"I don't drink," Carter said, pushing the beer towards Dave. He hoped that Dave didn't ask why, he really did. He didn't like to explain why, he was very ashamed of why. Plus, telling a friend you knew for years that you were a drug addict was very awkward, how was he going to tell a newfound one? "You can have it."

"Okay," Dave just said, then smiled. "I think I have Coke. Do you like Coke? I might have Sprite..."

"Coke's fine," Carter said, and in moments a glass of Coke was sitting in front of him, the extra beer sitting in front of Dave.

-------------------------------

Our house in the middle of the street

Why did we ever meet?

You starred in my rock and roll fantasy

Don't tell me, don't let it start

Why did we ever part?

Kick-start my rock and roll heart

-------------------------------

They kept up conversation, the topic turning to saves in the ER. Carter spoke of his first time using the defibrillators way back when he was in medical school in Cook County General Hospital, and soon the story lead up to the first time Jing-Mei had used the defibrillators.

"She shocked you?!!" Dave asked, laughing so hard tears came to his eyes. He doubled over, his face buried in one hand, his other hand smacking the table. He looked up at Carter, wiping his eyes. "She...I can't believe it. Jing-Mei? She shocked you??"

"It wasn't that funny," Carter grumbled, remembering the day well. He'd woken up a few hours later in an exam room, thinking she'd given him a rectal with Haleh's supervision while he was out cold, and he decided not to tell Dave that, knowing the younger resident would tease him relentlessly for days.

"I'm *so* going to rip on Jing-Mei for that next time I see her," Dave said, still laughing a little. He looked up at Carter, calm now, but soon lost his composure, shaking because he was laughing so hard. Carter rolled his eyes, but found himself smiling at the memory. He had to admit, it *was* kind of funny. Dave finally managed to compose himself, and stay composed. "My first time wasn't nearly as..." - a small snicker - "drastic. I was monitoring this old guy who had end stage lung cancer, and he just crashed. The resident that had me as her student let me use the paddles on him, and he came back with one jolt. It was the most awesome experience I ever had in my life. Just...bringing this guy back to life."

"He didn't have a DNR?" Carter asked. He had felt similar the first time he had saved a patient in the ER; knowing you had the ability to bring someone back from the dead was almost surreal.

"His family didn't want to let him go," Dave stated almost sadly. "They signed a DNR after the first time he crashed. He died later that night." Dave took another sip from the bottle in front of him, and Carter followed suit, watching Dave as he was lost in thought. Dave smiled wryly. "I think that's when I started smoking."

Carter couldn't help but laugh. He shook his head, keeping his smile as he stood to get more Coke from the fridge. He realized Dave had finished both of his beers. Damn. The guy could really put them away.

"Want another?" Carter asked, opening the refrigerator door.

"Sure, why not?"

-------------------------------

I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go

So come on, Davey, sing me something that I know

I want to always feel like part of this was mine

I want to fall in love tonight (here, tonight)

-------------------------------

Carter pushed some orange juice and milk out of the way, but didn't find the beer. He searched the next shelf, which contained mustard, mayonnaise, bread, and other things such as that, but didn't find it there either. He turned to look at the resident, who was sitting at the table, slightly amused.

"Where do you keep the beer?" Carter asked, turning around to look in the fridge again.

"Here, I'll get it," Dave said from behind him. He felt Dave place his hands on his waist, and Carter stood, whirling around to face him. Dave held up his hands with a grin at Carter's expression. "Just trying to get past you."

Dave leaned over into the fridge and pulled out another beer. Keeping that smile, he closed the refrigerator and faced Carter. What am I *doing* here? Carter thought to himself. Why am I standing inside another guy's kitchen who had just kissed me hours earlier? What the hell is *wrong* with me?

"You okay?" Dave asked at Carter's slightly apprehensive look.

-------------------------------

I want to fall in love tonight

(Here, tonight)

-------------------------------

"Dave..." he started. Dave opened his beer, but placed it on the counter, putting the cap on the counter as well. Carter leaned against the counter, and picked up the cap and started fidgeting with it, fingering it in his hands. "In the parking lot earlier...when you..."

"When I kissed you?" Dave asked as if it were an everyday occurrence, as if every day David Malucci kissed John Carter.

"Right," Carter said, avoiding eye contact. He stammered for a moment, unsure of what he was going to say. Why did I have to bring it up? John asked himself. Couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut? Now what am I supposed to say? "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Dave asked, and only then did Carter realize that he had moved closer to him - much closer - so close that the distance between them was almost nothing. The junior resident raised his lashes to look up at the senior resident when he didn't reply. "It's because I like you Carter. I like you a lot."

"I didn't know that you..." Carter started, suddenly unable to find his voice, unable to form the right words, let alone a complete sentence. Why was he suddenly so nervous? His heart was pounding so hard he was almost afraid that Dave was going to be able to hear it.

"Swung that way?" Dave asked with a grin. He thought for a moment. "It's not something that comes up in conversation often. Sort of like a moment thing." He looked up at Carter, then smiled. Dave could see that the guy was acting so nervous his next statement had to be true: "I know you've never...swung that way. So I guess the question is: what are you doing here?"

-------------------------------

I want to always feel like part of this was mine

-------------------------------

"I don't know..." Carter answered quietly. What *was* he still doing here?

"I think you do," Dave said, his smile growing softer. He reached up with his right hand and touched Carter's cheek gently, affectionately. To Carter's surprise, he didn't pull away. To Carter's surprise, he found himself reaching out and touching Dave's face gently, affectionately. I wished I'd had beer, he thought. I wished I'd had beer so I could be drunk, that way he'd have an excuse for this. Why else would he be standing in David Malucci's apartment, standing impossibly close to David Malucci, touching David Malucci's face, being so turned on by David Malucci?

Faces drawing closer, mouths coming together, eyes closing, lips touching, hands roaming, bodies moving, and oh God, magic happening.

They turned, their bodies entwined and their lips still locked in a rough kiss, and Dave and Carter slammed into the refrigerator, rattling it slightly. Hands were pulling at clothing, running through hair, running over body parts.

Dave suddenly pulled away when he realized where exactly this was going. He looked into Carter's eyes. He hadn't felt this way about someone since Luka, and he sure as hell didn't want this to end up the same way that had. He needed to be sure that this wasn't going to hurt either of them.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, a little afraid that the answer was going to be one he didn't want to hear. "We don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

"I want to," Carter said softly. He hadn't felt this way for a long time, and it felt good to be wrapped up in nothing but pure passion and the moment. No emotions involved, nothing but physical attraction...just sex. He knew that this was exactly what he needed right now. And he couldn't say that he wasn't a bit curious about this side of Dave - about this side of *himself*. "Believe me, Dave, I want to."

"Then what are we waiting for?" He smiled, a naughty smile that was returned by his companion. "Let's take this to the bedroom."

-------------------------------

I want to fall in love tonight

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Four: Walk the Sky -------------------------------

Skin as my shield

But who's to save me from inside?

Retched as if

To procreate for genocide

-------------------------------

He was running. Running where? Running upstairs. Running up stairs? Yes. He was running up stairs. Running up the stairs to get...to get where? To his room. It was safe in his room. There was no danger in his room. It was safe. There was no danger. But...why was he running at all? To get away...to get away from something. But to get away from what or whom? Was someone chasing him? Yes. Someone was chasing him. Why? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember...but that didn't really matter. All he knew was that he had to run up the stairs to get to his room because it was safe there, and apparently, he was in danger now.

No matter how fast he ran, no matter how long, he seemed to stay in the same place. He wasn't going anywhere except nowhere, and he had to get somewhere fast, or else whoever it was that was chasing him was going to catch him.

Oh God. He could hear who was chasing him, he could hear HIM. He could hear HIS heavy footsteps on the stairs behind him, he could hear HIS ragged breath, and he could hear that HE was getting closer.

And he knew that it was too late when he could feel HIS breath on the back of his neck. He knew that it was too late when HE grabbed him by the hair and yanked him downwards, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Then suddenly, HE was gone, and all that was left were the stairs, though it seemed now that all of those stairs he had climbed had caught up with him, and were now an endless stream of stairs. But he knew there was a floor because he could feel it coming as he fell, he could feel the end coming, he could feel *his* end coming.

Drunken laughter floated through the air as a sharp pain ripped through him. But it wasn't from the floor, he hadn't hit the floor yet. What was it from? Had he been struck? No...he'd been...God, what was happening? The pain was too excruciating to handle. But where did it come from? He couldn't figure it out, he couldn't figure any of it out. When was the floor coming? God, when was the floor coming? He need the floor, because with the floor came his end, and he wanted it to end, please, God, just let it end, let the pain end!

And with the floor the end did come. But not of him, of his dream.

-------------------------------

See how we tried to fly

Wings are our kryptonite

-------------------------------

David Malucci opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim glow that came with sunrise. It was one of those rare times when he didn't startle awake like he usually did, but he knew it was only because of the many beers he had consumed last night. He had been hoping that in his intoxicated state he would have had no dreams at all; Dave knew it wasn't the best way to avoid the nightmares, but it worked. Much to his dismay, he *had* dreamt last night, and although that dream had been frightening, it was far better than usual the dreams, which weren't really dreams at all, but nightmares.

Sometimes he would awaken with nothing but the memories of the fear and anger and hatred he had felt during his dreams. Sometimes he would awake with the images so vivid that he could actually still see them in front of him, and would have to take a few moments of screaming and fighting until he realized that nothing was there, that it had just been a dream.

He didn't like going to sleep, it was one of the reasons why he got so little of it. He was always up until odd hours of the morning, only finally going to bed when his body didn't allow him to stay up any longer.

Memories of last night came to him, slowly but surely. He was almost afraid to turn around in fear that it had all been a fantasy, something that his imagination had created, and maybe something that he wanted to happen so badly he actually believed it had. Perhaps he was finally losing his mind. Or perhaps the drugs and alcohol were causing him to hallucinate. He hoped that that wasn't the case, but he couldn't will himself to look, so he lay there, facing the wall with his back turned to the other side of the bed.

If it wasn't his imagination, then last night, he and John Carter had gone out to a bar, came back to his apartment, and had soon come into his room, their lips locked in a kiss and their hands roaming each other's bodies. Soon clothes had been discarded, both of them undressing each other as their kiss never faltered. When they were both down to their boxers, Dave had led Carter to the bed. He sat down on the bed, and Carter stood between his legs and in front of his growing erection. Dave reached out and took Carter's hands, as if to pull him down onto the bed with him, when the senior resident caught sight of the tent in the younger man's fabric. Then he had suddenly stepped back, looking away as if he were almost ashamed.

"What's wrong?" Dave asked, slightly confused, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to make Carter make eye contact with him.

"I...I don't think I can do this," Carter said, not allowing himself to look at Dave. How could he have been so stupid? He had been so wrapped up in that moment he had mentioned earlier that he hadn't thought about where this was eventually going to go. Well, sure, he knew where it was going to go, but he hadn't actually thought about it. And he wasn't ready for it. "I'm sorry, Dave. I really wanted to do this, but I can't..." There was mutual hesitation. "If you want me to leave, then I'll leave."

"Hey...Carter," Dave said, taking the older resident's arm in his hand as he started to bend down and pick up his clothes, which were strewn about the floor. Carter stood upright, but still wouldn't make eye contact. "I told you: we don't have to do anything that you don't want to. If you just want to get in bed and cuddle, then that's fine, man."

"Can we do that?" he asked, finally looking Dave in his eyes. Dave smiled softly and nodded. He'd actually only been kidding when he'd said that, but if Carter wanted to, then that would be just fine with him. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not," he replied, keeping his smile. He wanted to show Carter that he wasn't just in this for the sex, that he was in it for everything. Dave had this need to be needed, and wanted desperately to feel - no not just feel, but be close to someone. Dave nodded towards the bed, which was looking mighty inviting, especially since he'd be sharing it with the one person that he'd had the hugest crush on since they'd run to the construction site together and worked with one another to do a blind intubation and save a life. "Come on."

Carter dropped his clothes and Dave took his hand, leading him to the bed. They crawled under the covers and finally wound up cuddling, at first coming together awkwardly but soon enough embracing. Carter lay with his head on Dave's chest, wrapped in the junior resident's arms, both resting comfortably under the linens.

"Dave?" Carter asked tentatively, though Dave could hear the curiousness in his voice. "When did you first realize that you were...gay?"

"First of all..." Dave said, a smile playing on his lips. He played with Carter's brown hair, twirling it about his fingers, then stroking his head gently. "First of all, I'm not gay. That would just be a sin against womankind. And I first realized that I was attracted to guys too when I was in high school, probably freshmen year. At first I was sort of in denial about it, I didn't really want it to be that way. I didn't want to be different, you know? But then...I guess I kind of embraced it, though I kept it to myself."

"How did you...come out to all of your friends?" Carter asked, feeling as content as a purring kitty as Dave stroked his head. He placed his hand on Dave's chest, slowly and softly trailing it down the side of his torso, feeling his ribs and muscles. Dave flinched slightly.

"That tickles, Carter."

Carter smiled and stopped, letting his hand rest on the side of Dave's stomach. "Sorry. And try calling me John."

"Okay...John. Now how did I come out?" Dave asked himself, thinking back to high school. He smiled at the memory of his first boyfriend. It had sure been an experience - one that he wouldn't forget ever. They had been together for almost a year, and they had really been in love. "I was a sophomore. His name was Steven Drake and he was a junior. I'd had the hugest crush on him for years, and I'd heard some rumors that he was gay. I'd never talked with him because we ran with different crowds. I had my group of friends and he had his."

"What did you do?" Carter asked, intrigued by the whole story.

"I didn't do anything. *He* talked to *me*." Dave smiled, remembering the day in the cafeteria at high school.

-------------------------------

I wanted to feel this

I'm thinking of trying to try

Cause if I get my ins

I'd walk the sky

-------------------------------

"Look who it is..." Miranda whispered, nudging Dave in the ribs. Dave tossed her a look. As if he hadn't noticed that the guy he had had the *biggest* crush on forever was standing in front of him in line. She nodded towards Steven. "So..."

"Yeah?" Dave asked. Like he was just going to hit on Steven Drake in the middle of the cafeteria? Miranda suddenly "tripped" over her own feet and knocked into him, causing him to bump into Steven. He quickly regained his own balance, then, looking away abashedly, he apologized. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Steven replied, a grin on his face. Dave reached for an apple, but Steven grabbed for it and handed it to him.

Dave smiled. "Thanks."

"Malucci, right?" he asked. Dave stood there in shocked silence. Steven Drake, the junior he'd been head-over-heels for, for about two years now, knew his name? He suddenly couldn't find his voice. It's not like he would've been able to tell him if he was Malucci or not even if he could find it - he couldn't even remember his name.

Another nudge from his best friend. "Yes," he replied quickly. Steven smiled at his awkwardness. This sophomore had obviously never done this before. But Steven had noticed the way Dave looked at him when he thought he wasn't looking, and he was flattered, really. This sophomore was actually kinda cute. "Call me Dave."

"I'm Steven," he said, keeping his smile. Steven reached the cashier and paid for his food, and Dave wasn't that delighted that their encounter with each other was going to be over so quickly. Now they would go their separate ways, and probably never speak again. His chance was over, gone like fallen leaf caught in the wind or some other really bad metaphor. He was pleasantly surprised when Steven waited for him. "Hey, uh...you want to sit with me today?"

"Sure," he answered, then glanced at Miranda. She smiled slyly, silently wishing him luck. "Where should we sit?"

Miranda knew Dave better than he probably knew himself. They'd been friends since childhood, and with her living on his street, it made it easier for them to stay together throughout the years. She'd discovered that he was bisexual about three years ago, and discovered that he'd been totally in love with Steven about two years ago. She was glad that something was finally happening.

Dave turned away from Miranda, then moved toward an empty table in a secluded part of the cafeteria. He sat down next to Steven, and was surprised that the conversation flowed easily. He had always assumed that he and Steven were very different people, but he discovered that they had similar likes and dislikes. Both enjoyed hockey, though only Dave played for the high school, both of their favorite classes were science, which they were in together (which explained why it was Dave's favorite class) because Steven had failed it last year, and both enjoyed reading, though Steven was more into science fiction while Dave was into realistic fiction.

The bell rang all too soon.

"Uh..." Dave said, looking down with a sheepish smile. He looked back up to Steven, whose knowing smile showed that he was almost amused. Stutter, then frustrated breath. God, he was so terrible at this. "What're you doing this Friday?"

Another knowing smile. "Nothing. But *you* have a hockey game."

"Right," Dave remembered. Jesus, he was so embarrassed. He was just talking about how much he loved hockey and now he didn't even remember their big game was on Friday. He wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there. "What about -"

"What about tonight?" Steven asked as the next period of lunch started filing in. They weren't even getting up from their table yet. Dave knew he'd be late to class, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

"I can't go out during the week," Dave said, rubbing the nape of his neck. Steven tossed him a questioning look. "Strict dad..."

"Then Saturday?" he tried.

"Sure. Saturday's good," Dave replied. They stood from their table, grabbing their trays and dumping them on the way out.

"See you in bio, Dave," Steven replied, his hand brushing over Dave's. Dave didn't let himself jerk in surprise. He stayed cool, he had to stay cool.

"Right," he said, wishing today wasn't Wednesday, but Friday at the least. "See you in bio."

-------------------------------

All that is ill

And all I fight to keep inside

Rips me until

The point of breaking's no surprise

-------------------------------

"All I remember thinking is how Saturday was so far away," Dave said, gently tracing his fingers over John's neck. "But Saturday did come, and we ended up going to a movie. Of course, we didn't end up actually *watching* the movie, if you know what I mean."

-------------------------------

See how we tried to fly

Wings are our kryptonite

-------------------------------

Dave stood in the theater lobby, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he glanced around the place. There was an arcade next to him, where kids of various ages were playing games, mostly kids around his age, this being a regular hangout for a lot of them in his high school. He recognized a girl from his school playing some sort of car racing game with her boyfriend. Dave couldn't help but think about how...normal that was, and here he was waiting for his *male* date to show up.

It was strange to think of this as a date, because Dave had never been on a date with a guy before. He wondered what that would be like. Would they do stuff usual people did on dates, like hold hands and flirt and...kiss? Were they going to kiss? Dave knew he was good at kissing girls - at least no one had ever complained before - but he'd never kissed a guy before. What if he was bad at it? What if he totally messed the whole date up because he sucked at kissing a guy? He'd never be able to live with himself after that, he'd swear off guys forever.

Dave's eyes shifted to a couple playing tonsil hockey near the photo booth. His eyes shifted to the floor. He was suddenly having second thoughts about this whole "coming out" thing. He was sure he was prepared for this, prepared to be seen on a date with a guy, but now he wasn't so sure. He knew that he was still the same guy he'd been before he discovered he was bisexual, but what if *they* didn't know that? What if people started talking, calling him names or shunning him just because he was bisexual? What if he got beat up? Dave knew he could handle himself, but what if his friends on the hockey team ganged up on him? What would his father say? Oh, God. He didn't even want to think about *that*. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this.

"Hey, Dave," he heard from next to him. He turned to see Steven standing before him, looking as magnificent as ever. God, the guy was hot. What the hell was Dave doing with a stud like him? They headed towards the ticket line together, the movie "Batman" on the agenda for the night. Dave suddenly found himself wondering if people knew that Steven was gay. He had, what made him think that others didn't? What if they saw them together and assumed something - assumed the right thing: that they were on a date together? "I'm glad you showed up. On the phone you didn't sound so sure that you were going to come."

"I wasn't sure if I could get away," Dave replied with a shrug, flashing a winning smile in hopes that Steven wouldn't ask any more questions. He was relieved when the older boy didn't. They reached the end of the line, and Steven asked for two tickets, then pulled money out of his wallet to pay for it. "I've got money."

"Don't worry about it," Steven said, waving Dave's hand away before the younger boy could reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. He cast a smile at Dave as he gave the clerk the money. "The whole night's on me."

"Okay," Dave replied slowly, almost reluctantly. Okay, so now he was officially on a date. But on any date that he'd ever been on, he'd always been the gentlemen and paid for his date...but now *he* was the date and *he* was being paid for. It was an odd feeling that he had right now, but yet it was a pleasant one. Dave stuffed his hands into his pockets once more as they moved towards the snack bar, but Dave's appetite was totally gone due to his nervousness and slight apprehension. He was almost sure if he ate anything he'd puke.

Fairly soon, they were sitting inside the dark theater, off to the side, away from the few people that were in the theater that night, watching Michael Keaton moving across the screen in a black cape and cowl, fighting the Joker's cronies to save Gotham City. Dave had wanted to see this movie, having always been a fan of the comic book character, but now that they were actually here, together, he couldn't concentrate on anything except Steven. The beautiful young man was sitting so close to him, the only thing separating them being the armrest. If Dave wanted - if Dave had the balls, actually - he could reach out and touch him.

Dave knew that if he'd been with a girl, he'd be a lot closer to her, so to speak. He'd be holding her hand or touching her. He would've kissed her already. They'd probably be engaged in a lip-lock right now. So why couldn't he do it now, when he was with a guy? He wished he could do it now...

Steven turned to look at Dave, and the sophomore was so surprised he couldn't look away. So they sat there, staring at each other, their faces illuminated by the movie screen, the shadows complimenting their facial bone structure. Steven reached out with one hand, and Dave watched with amazed eyes as it touched the side of his face. Then the hand led his face towards Steven's, and very soon their lips were very close to each other. Tentatively, with his heart pounding in his chest as if it were trying to get free from his ribcage, Dave touched his lips to Steven's. But the kiss was short-lived, Dave pulling away quickly and leaning back in his seat, his heart hammering even harder than it had before.

He had just kissed another guy.

And it felt good.

Then, abruptly, Dave turned back to Steven, cupped Steven's face in his hands, brought Steven's lips to his, and gave all he had to kiss Steven. And he made sure he kissed Steven like he hoped he had never been kissed before.

-------------------------------

I wanted to feel this

I'm thinking of trying to try

Cause if I get my ins

I'd walk the sky

-------------------------------

"Weren't you afraid someone would see you?" John asked, mild surprise in his tired voice.

"Well...not really," Dave replied. "I mean, it was pretty dark in the theater and we were pretty much by ourselves. And the point of outing yourself is to...I don't know...out yourself?"

"Oh," John replied, mostly because he couldn't figure out what else to say, really. They fell into contemplative silence, both lost in their own thoughts, though both weren't really thinking of anything in particular. John yawned while saying: "Did it work out between you two?"

"Yeah," Dave replied, though there was a hint of something in his voice that John couldn't quite figure out in his tired stupor.

"I'm glad..." he heard John softly say as the senior resident snuggled up to Dave even more, if that was even possible.

Dave smiled as he felt John's slow, even breath on his chest as the older resident fell asleep in his arms. He listened to John's breathing, then tried to breathe with him, but wasn't able to because he couldn't get his breath that shallow and slow.

Dave stared into the darkness, still stroking John's hair. This was everything he'd ever wanted, but he wondered how long it would last. As much as he hoped that it would be the same in the morning, Dave knew, from experience, that usually it wasn't. But John was different...he would understand and accept tonight, wouldn't he? And if not? Dave didn't want to think about that, he just wanted to be right here, right now, in the moment, in John's arms, in a warm bed, with a warm feeling. Finally, hours later, the junior resident had fallen asleep.

Now, as Dave stared at the gray wall in front of him, he finally mustered up the courage glance over his shoulder, and when he did, he could see John Carter lying in bed next to him, could see John Carter's back facing towards him, could see John Carter. He smiled, then turned fully and moved closer to him, wrapping his arms carefully around him so he wouldn't wake him. Closing his eyes with a content sigh, he once more was enveloped by sleep.

-------------------------------

I wanted to feel this

I'm thinking of trying to try

Cause if I get my ins

I'd walk the sky

-------------------------------

John opened his eyes slowly. He was in an unfamiliar environment, one that he couldn't even remotely recognize. The walls were a dull gray with a blue patterned border at the ceiling. The bed sheets he was surrounded by were a blue pattern as well, with some splashes of gray. He tried to move, but then realized that there were arms wrapped around his waist.

Wait. Last night...what had happened last night? The night slowly came to him in bits and pieces. He managed fit them all together like some outrageous jigsaw puzzle without all of the pieces included, and finally could remember what had happened.

He had slept with David Malucci.

Well, he hadn't *slept* with him, but he had slept with him. He was, right now, in David Malucci's apartment, with David Malucci sleeping behind him, wrapped up in David Malucci's arms, wasn't he?

The feeling of having Dave's strong arms wrapped around him was oddly pleasant. During his previous relationships - which had been all with women - he had always been the one to hold them in his arms. But now that he was the one with strong, comforting arms wrapped around him, he had to say he could get used to this.

What was he thinking? He was talking about another *man*. He was talking about Dave Malucci! Was he really prepared to form a relationship with a member of the same sex? Was it really what he wanted?

On the other hand, he was curious. What *would* a relationship with another man be like?

Jesus! What in God's name was *wrong* with him?! What would his Gamma think? What would his *parents* think! This certainly wouldn't blow over with them well at all. But did he really care about what they thought? God! He was talking about getting into a relationship with another man! With David Malucci! Not the most discreet man to ever walk the planet, that was for sure.

To take his mind off of it before it drove him insane, which, by far, it already had, he studied Dave's hands; one was lying on the bed, trapped underneath him, and the other hung limply over his side. He picked up the hand that was free and looked at the silver ring on it. There wasn't anything particularly special about it, it was just a plain band. He found himself wondering where Dave had gotten it and why. He turned Dave's hand, looking at his fingers and his palm, then lightly traced his lifeline with his thumb. Following it to his arm, he recognized a faint scar that he hadn't noticed before: one long slash going down his wrist. Upon inspection of his other wrist, he saw the same scar.

An alarm clock went off, startling him and causing him to flinch involuntarily, interrupting him from his thoughts. He felt Dave move in the bed, slamming an open palm over the clock to shut it off as abruptly as it had turned on. Then Dave wrapped the arm that he had taken away from John's waist back around him.

"You have work?" John asked, daring to break the silence with a simple question. Just don't ask about last night, he thought. Don't ask about last night. If Dave mentioned it, then he mentioned it. Otherwise, do *not* ask about last night.

"Yeah," Dave murmured in his barely-awake-half-asleep mode. He buried his head in the pillow, holding his breath as he did so, then turned onto his back and let his breath out. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his hand, he glanced at the clock. Six o'clock. Too early, too damn early. He closed his eyes again, slightly grimacing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck. I need an Aspirin."

"Maybe you shouldn't go to work," John suggested, scooting to the other side of the bed once he was out of Dave's arms to put distance between the two. "If you're not feeling well, I mean."

"I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've worked with a hangover," he said, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair. He scrubbed his face with his hands, then glanced back at John with a sleepy smile. "But thanks for caring."

John smiled back, almost unaware of it until it happened.

A gray ball of fluff jumped onto the bed, causing John to furrow his eyebrows before casting Dave a puzzling glance. He cocked an eyebrow as the cat nuzzled Dave's arm, obviously having taken a liking to him.

"You kept him?" John asked.

Dave shrugged, petting the cat. "I promised the kid I'd make sure he got a good home. I figure mine is as good as any."

"I thought you were allergic."

"I am," Dave replied, petting the cat and cooing gently to it. "They're called allergy pills. Right, Kermit?"

"Kermit?" John asked, raising both eyebrows now.

Dave looked away sheepishly. "I never got the furface's name. Why? Is Kermit stupid? Should I name him something like John Carter?"

"No. Kermit's fine. You just act like you never had a pet before."

"I never did," Dave replied, rising from the bed and picking up the cat in his arms. He held it up to his face and smiled at it, Dave cooing again. He placed it on the floor and turned to John again. "I told you, my old man never let me have any pets."

"Right," he remembered, feeling stupid for asking.

"I'm going to take a shower," Dave said as he moved to the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, John heard the shower running. He contemplated leaving, just gathering his clothes and getting out of there as fast as possible, but then he thought better of it. He at least owed Dave an explanation for his behavior last night, which was something he could barely explain to himself, let alone Dave.

"Damn it," he breathed, pressing his palms to his eyes until he saw nothing but disconnected shapes in funny colors. He brought his hands down from his eyes, then let out another sigh. He had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot in the future. He turned in bed, getting a better look at the room. It was pretty dull now that he thought about it. There were a few spots on the wall near the ceiling that had peeling paint, and the carpet was permanently only a former color of what it once was after much use, probably from Dave and the tenants before him.

After about fifteen more minutes, Dave emerged into the room wearing only a small towel around his waist. John quickly looked at the ceiling, studying a small stain from water. He heard Dave shuffle through his closet, then pull out clothes.

He wouldn't look at him. John willed himself not to look at Dave. It wasn't right. You didn't just suddenly feel attracted to your *male* coworker! His alter ego screamed at him: you weren't yourself. That was one hell of an excuse. If Dave asked, he could just say he was wrapped up in that moment and pure passion he'd been talking about. As much as he knew it was going to kill Dave to hear that, his alter ego was going to win this one.

Now fully clothed, Dave stood next to the bed. He had tried to catch Carter checking him out, and was very dissatisfied that he hadn't done so. But the senior resident was probably just a little insecure about himself right now. Dave knew he was when he was faced with a similar situation.

"I gotta get to work now," Dave said. "I think I'm going to be late."

"You can take my Jeep if you'd like," John found himself saying, then immediately chastised himself.

"I can't drive," he replied, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"I never learned how," he answered with a shrug. He looked away briefly, pursing his lips, then turned back to John, running his tongue over the front of his teeth, deciding what to say now. He suddenly sat down on the bed. Pursed lips again. Several more times. Now a deep breath. Then finally: "Listen...Ca - John..."

"Yeah?" he said before Dave had time to say anything more.

"Last night - "

"What about it?" John quickly interrupted, not daring eye contact.

Dave looked at him in surprise. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to ask him if he was okay with last night, and then John was supposed to say yes, that he was. And that he wanted to go all the way next time. Now he hadn't even had the chance to get past two words. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.

"Uh..." Dave looked away quickly, suddenly confused and utterly mortified. What had happened? Last night...last night what, Malucci? he asked himself. Last night you took your *straight* coworker to your apartment, and you almost fucked him. He backed out, and now he wants nothing to do with you. He probably thinks you're disgusting. What did you expect? John's not that kind of guy, idiot. He probably never wants to speak to you again. "I guess...I guess I'll, um..." He stood abruptly. "You can show yourself out. Just remember to lock the door behind you."

"No problem," John said, playing with the bed sheets. He wasn't into these types of relationships, but he almost felt somehow obligated to explain himself to Dave. Glancing up, he could see the clear hurt and astonishment in Dave's eyes, and now he knew he had to. "Dave...listen...I'm sorry about...I'm sorry if I led you to believe anything, but I'm not..."

"No, it's okay," Dave said, waving it off before he could finish. John got the feeling that this was something Dave was used to. Great. Now on top of having to deal with this whole inner conflict he was having with himself, he was also going to feel guilty. Dave looked up at John and smiled, but it soon faded. "I'll, uh...I'll see you...*Carter*."

Dave turned and grabbed his jacket off of the chair in front of his desk, and then picked up his bookbag off of the floor and quickly left the bedroom, closing the door rather roughly behind him.

Sorry if I led you to believe anything...

He scoffed. Yeah, so was he. But what had he been expecting? He had made that mistake with Luka, and now here he was, making that same mistake with John. At least he'd spent one night with the man of his dreams. And if that was all he could get, then he was at least thankful for that.

-------------------------------

I wanted to feel this

I'm thinking of trying to try

Cause if I get my ins

I'd walk the sky

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Five: So Lost -------------------------------

I stand around at American weddings

I stand around for family

At my best when I'm terrorist inside

At my best when it's on me

-------------------------------

"One-hundred-forty patients, twenty-seven admissions," John marveled while standing at Admin, his jacket and satchel hanging over his arms, as he was just about ready to leave. Today had been a very hectic shift, and he was glad that it was finally over. "That has to be a record."

John was especially glad because Dave was working tonight, and he was glad that they hadn't had to work the same shift since "the incident;" John wasn't sure if he would be able to face him yet. He could pretend that everything was the same, that nothing between them had changed, but that would be a pure lie. Things between them had changed, and they had changed drastically. One moment they had been coworkers and barely friends, the next they had been...they'd been something more.

At least they had been for a few hours. In those few hours, John couldn't explain what had happened to him. He tried to convince himself that he'd just been caught up in the moment, that that was all. And in that moment, he'd stupidly thought that maybe there was something between the two of them, that maybe he wanted there to be something between them, but then in the light of day it seemed to change again.

But now he was faced with one major dilemma. How was he supposed to act towards Dave? He didn't even know what to expect from the junior resident. Was he angry? Upset? Disappointed? Would he tell people? Maybe he wouldn't even work today. Maybe he'd take the day off or call in sick. But that'd only momentarily impede the inevitable. And Dave had seemed pissed when he'd left the apartment two days ago...

"I got a record for you," Frank said in his usual brusque manner, bringing John back to reality. "A guy in Exam four swallowed fifty hot dogs in nineteen minutes."

"Well that's not my problem," John said, a fake smile plastered on his face, "because my shift is over."

"John, did you take care of my kidney-stone patient?" he heard Abby ask as she moved towards the time clock, her card in her hand, her jacket and purse already with her. They were leaving together today, but would go to different homes. John suddenly found himself wondering where his feelings for Abby had gone. Since she and Luka had broken up last spring for reasons he couldn't understand, they'd constantly been seeing each other, both flirting and willing but neither taking the chance to ask for something more. Then yesterday, when Abby and he were walking on the pier together, she had taken the chance and told him she wanted something more, John had told her that he basically wasn't interested anymore. What the hell was up with that, he wondered to himself. It couldn't possibly be because of Dave, could it? "John?"

"I admitted him to Urology," he quickly answered. He silently thanked Abby for breaking him from his previous thoughts before he could answer his own question. And he wouldn't think about it now, he would *not* think about it. Another plastered smile. "Come on, Abby. One more minute in this place and I'll burst!"

"Give me the beer!" he heard Haleh bellow as Abby rushed past her to get to the clock out. John smiled to himself, slightly amused, as Haleh tried to get a six-pack of beer away from the ER's beloved Pablo. She looked up and called out to Abby, who only glibly brushed it aside. John knew that when Abby was off, she was *off*, and never let anyone tell her otherwise. John wished he had her sense of self-confidence sometimes. "He's drunk, combative, and he won't give up his beer! I need help!"

"I need to pee!" the man growled, still clutching his beer tightly, unwilling to give up probably the only thing that could make this homeless man's problems diminish, or so he thought. John used to know what it felt like to be dependant on something like that, and he knew now that it was the biggest mistake of his life. He hoped that he would never end up like that again, and vowed to help anyone who he thought might.

John turned towards Abby and saw her punch out with a grin, then quickly turned to see Haleh's reaction, who looked like she wanted to punch *Abby* out right now. He almost let out his first laugh in two days.

"That's gonna cost you," Haleh warned, as Abby joined John and the two of them began to leave the ER. John smiled and waved at Haleh, whose glare showed that Abby, indeed, was going to pay for what she'd just done. And maybe some of it would rub off on John for that fresh smile.

"Where's Mark?" John turned to see Elizabeth with her baby Ella strapped to her chest, obviously looking for her husband, but Abby just asked: "Who?"

"Mark Greene," Elizabeth snapped. "Your Attending."

"I think he quit," Abby said as she and John left the ER finally, and he shook his head as he smiled. Abby suddenly turned to him as they walked quickly away from the hospital. "You know you've only got about six weeks left of your residency, and you haven't asked Weaver about the Attending position for Dr. Chen yet."

"I know," was the only reply she received. He knew he'd promised Jing-Mei he'd talk to Weaver about it in hopes that his personal closeness with her would help the Asian doctor get the job, but he'd been procrastinating due to the fact that if his personal closeness did help Jing-Mei, then that would mean she didn't really deserve the job.

"Abby!" They turned to see Chuny, who was looking so desperate John knew if what she was about to ask was addressed to him he couldn't have said no. She indicated her patient, who was being wheeled in. "Please help me with this case?"

Abby, however, simply waved her off and refused to do it. God, right now, John was *so* wishing for her self-confidence. She and John soon parted company, but Abby decided to try one last time with: "Talk to Weaver!"

John paused momentarily, taking a deep breath, but then smiled. Oh, hell, what did he honestly have to lose? he asked himself as he turned to go back inside.

-------------------------------

I was there when they took all the people

I was alone in a mental ravine

You breathe life when you break the walls down

You breathe life when you set me free

-------------------------------

Dr. Dave Malucci had arrived at work in a very bad mood yesterday, and it had only worsened once he had actually started working. He had been snapping at his coworkers, the desk clerks, and even sometimes his patients. Twice Weaver had to remind him to keep his attitude in check, and still after that he was very terse with everyone. Life sucked for him, why couldn't he make it suck a little bit for everyone else too?

When he'd finished his shift, he'd gone out to a bar and gotten blind drunk. He'd gotten home on his bike somehow, and then went to bed. But it figured that the one time he actually wanted to sleep he couldn't. All he could think about - even in a drunken stupor - was John Carter, who was, thank God, already off of his shift and probably at home sleeping comfortably in bed. John was definitely the last person Dave wanted to see because he's surely only remind him of his unlearned mistakes.

But Dave couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. John and he had arrived at his apartment. John and he had kissed, and God, what a kiss that had been! And Dave had even asked him if John was sure he wanted to go through with it, and John had told him he wanted to. Had John just been caught up in the moment? Maybe Dave had moved too fast. Maybe he shouldn't have kissed him in the ambulance bay. But how else was he supposed to get it out there that he wanted John in that way? Dave wasn't good at subtle...he just wasn't.

So now, as Dave arrived at work sleep-deprived and answer-deprived, he was still generally pissed off and very hungover. Yesterday he'd been terse and snappy, but today, he certainly didn't feel like talking to *anyone*. If everyone just left him alone and let him do his job, then everything would be fine and -

"Dr. Malucci!" Just fucking great. He turned to look at Dr. Weaver, who had already found him guilty of something, and he hadn't even gotten on shift yet. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"I didn't even get on yet, Chief," he snapped as he instinctively glanced down at his gray T-shirt and jeans.

"It is seven o'clock, when your shift begins!" she yelled, and his jaws worked against one another as he bit back words of pure hatred that he would probably later regret if he said them. "You should be dressed and ready by that time!"

"I just got in!" he barked angrily as he headed towards the lounge. It was just his day - two days...hell, it'd been his fucking week! He angrily stormed into the lounge, slamming the door open loudly, but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw who was at their lockers, getting ready to leave. Dave stood there, in the middle of the lounge, staring at the stained tabletop, waiting...

"Hello, Dave," Luka said.

"Hey, Dave," Dr. Chen said as she pulled out her stethoscope and ID badge, having just gotten on. Glancing up, she noted that Dave had suddenly fallen silent and seemed to be frozen in place. She remembered hearing something about bad air between the two men from the nurse's rumor mill, and at first hadn't believed it. The two had barely ever interacted, and there hadn't been any sort of reason behind it - one that the nurses could provide, anyway. Now she could see that it was obvious, and wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She also wondered what had happened.

"Hi," he said quietly, slowly and carefully approaching his locker, which was located near Dr. Kovac's. He suddenly veered off, heading towards the coffee machine, deciding to make himself a cup before his shift started.

Luka stayed where he was, knowing Dave was waiting for him to move so he could get to his locker. He wanted to be alone with Dave so he could talk to him, since seeing the junior resident outside of work was obviously impossible due to the fact Dave wouldn't even return his phone calls. Since two days ago, since what had happened in the shower and the supply closet, he needed to know if there was still a chance for them. He knew that Dave had felt something towards him before - when Luka hadn't - and now that he did have some sort of feelings towards the younger man, somehow Dave didn't even care anymore. How could he have let Dave slip through his fingers like that? And how could Dave just shut off his feelings like that?

Growing impatient, Luka was about to ask Jing-Mei to leave when she suddenly closed her locker and left, excusing herself as if she had intruded in on something. She must know that something between them was wrong - but then again, everyone did. Dave silently moved towards his locker, opening it and pulling on his scrub top quickly, pulling his stethoscope and ID badge out as well.

"Dave," Luka said as he stepped closer to the junior resident. Dave instinctively took two steps back, but Luka quickly stepped forward and took him by the hand, keeping a firm grip on it so Dave couldn't get away. "You've been acting strange lately...I just want to know what's wrong."

"Why? Since when to you care about me...for me or what happens to me?" Dave asked as he tried to get out of Luka's grasp. He felt Luka's thumb brush gently over his knuckles. He would've killed to have Luka touch him like this a few weeks ago. Now it seemed more like an invasion than an intimate gesture.

"Because I care," Luka replied. Dave still wouldn't look at him, but instead looked at Luka's hand, which was holding his tightly. There was a pause. "Do you still care, Dave?"

Dave suddenly looked up at Luka, his eyes searching the attending's eyes. How much Dave had wanted this nearly weeks before. And a part of him...a part of him had wanted it so badly that he still wondered...he still wondered...what if...?

The door pushed open hastily, and Jing-Mei rushed back in. Dave quickly pulled his hand away from Luka's once his grip faltered, and exited the room before he could hear the excuse that Jing-Mei produced for the intrusion. He heard Luka call out to him in an attempt to talk to him again, wanting a reply. Even if Dave went back, he doubted he could find his voice to give him one. He doubted that he even had one.

He moved through the ER hastily, knocking into Haleh, but not bothering to excuse himself even when she did remind him that he should. He pushed open the door to the men's room, needing to be alone for a few minutes to regain his composure, but immediately left before he could take two steps in after seeing Dr. Greene washing his hands while speaking with a young black doctor - maybe a medical student - that he didn't recognize.

Dave turned on his heel and crossed the hallway to the first door that he saw, unaware of the puzzling glances he left behind in the bathroom. He crossed the threshold, made sure no one else was inside, then closed the door behind him, keeping his hand on the knob and his other on the doorframe. After a moment, he slumped against the door, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the heavy wood. When he opened his eyes, he realized he'd walked right into the drug lockup.

He could see the shelf of amphetamines and benzodiazipines in his peripheral vision. He lifted his head off of the door and looked at them, biting his lip and creasing his brow. Someone had left the key in the lock. It would be so easy for him to just open it and steal a couple, then leave everything as if it hadn't been touched... He clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, leaning his head against the door again and slamming his fist into the wall, only remembering that his hand was already bruised from smashing it into the wall the two days ago when he felt the sharp sting.

"Fuck!" he yelled, cradling his wounded hand in his other. He turned away from the enemy shelf, then placed his elbows on the opposite counter, burying his face in his hands. He swallowed hard and let out a breath that was as shaky as his hands, and then glanced at the shelf behind him, biting at his fingernails - a habit he had lost somewhere between high school and college only to be found again recently. He, once more, turned towards the door, placing his hand on the knob. But he couldn't will himself to open it. He glanced towards the pills again...

-------------------------------

Where is my head?

Where are my bones?

Why are my days so far from home?

-------------------------------

The door flew open, crashing against Dave's skull. A scream of horror could be heard from whoever had opened the door and realized what they had done as he hit the floor.

"Oh, God, Dave!" Jing-Mei said as she knelt down next to the doctor, who was cradling the left side of his face in his hand. She tried to help him sit up, but he waved her away with a bruised hand. Shoot, had she done that too? "Dave, I am so sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here! I left the key in the lock, and I..."

"It's okay," he grumbled, getting to his feet with her assistance. He waved her away again as she tried to move his hand away from his face. He could remember being hit with a door in that exact same manner before only the circumstances were much different, but pushed that thought to the back of his mind before it could get any farther than that. "Jing-Mei, stop it, I'm fine."

"Let me see," she said, brushing his hands away from his face. He finally relented with a sigh, dropping his hands to his sides. "Oh, God..."

"What?" he asked, looking at her worried expression. He tried to look at his reflection in the glass of the cabinets, but couldn't get a clear image of himself. He turned back to Jing-Mei. "What did you do?"

"I think I gave you a black eye," she relied sheepishly. She cupped the left side of his face in her hand and used her thumb to push on the bone. He jumped back with a yelp, followed by a scowl. "I'm just trying to see if I broke anything."

"Jing-Mei, it's fine," he replied, rubbing the spot she'd pushed on. She kept her concerned expression as he tried to shrug if off. "I've had worse."

She narrowed her eyes, wondering exactly what he meant. "I think we should get some x-rays. I could've broken something."

"You didn't break anything, don't worry," he said, quickly leaving through the open door. He was glad she had entered the room, even if she had given him a black eye. Not that he wouldn't have eventually left without taking more pills. He wasn't some sort of drug addict...right? Taking two pills didn't make you a drug addict. If he had left *after* he'd taken them, then he'd have himself a problem. Jing-Mei hadn't stopped him from doing anything, she'd just barged in on him before he could make the right decision, that's all.

After icing his eye and hand in the dark empty lounge for several minutes and hearing Dr. Weaver bitch and moan some more about how it was half-past seven and he wasn't working yet, Dave threw the gel-packs back into the freezer angrily, then stormed into the ER, heading directly towards admin so he could get to the next patient as quickly as possible in hopes that it would somehow make his shift go by faster.

"Excuse me," he heard from next to him. Dave stopped and turned to see the same young black intern or medical student, and he was looking quite lost. "Are you Dr. Carter?"

Dave let out a silent sigh. He really didn't need this right now. "No," he said, then started walking towards the admin desk to sign himself up for a few patients before Dr. Weaver really chewed him out.

"Then could you perhaps tell me where I could find him?" The kid just didn't get the hint.

"He left hours ago," Dave said, finally turning to face the young man, a puzzled expression on the resident's face.

"See, they accidentally told me that Dr. Malucci was my resident, so I came in now," the young man said. He suddenly stuck out his hand. "I'm Michael Gallant, by the way, his third-year medical student. I talked to Dr. Weaver, and she said he was still here and that my help was needed anyway."

Dave wasn't sure how well a new medical student would blow over with John. He could remember what had happened with his last one, and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Was it worry? But it wasn't worry for Gallant, it was worry for John. Wait, he was supposed to be pissed at John, wasn't he?

And wait...John was still here?

"I'm Dr. Dave Malucci," he replied, smiling politely as he shook Gallant's hand, glancing around the ER to see if he could spot John. "If you wait in Chairs, I'm sure Dr. Carter will come and get you as soon as can."

"Dr. Malucci," Connie called from a few feet away. "You're patient in Three's oxygen level just dropped to 89. Should we prepare for an intubation?"

Patient? He didn't have a patient! Shit, wait - hadn't the Chief told him something about signing off a patient of Luka's to Dave? Damn it, he really should start listening when she talks to him instead of nodding or shaking his head when he thought it was necessary.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Dave said after some contemplation. He glanced down at his bruised and now swollen knuckles. He'd never be able to intubate with it. He suddenly looked up at Gallant with a smile. "You ever intubated before?"

"A couple times...on a cadaver..." Gallant replied sheepishly.

"Want to try one for real?" he asked, wrapping an arm around Gallant's shoulders as he led him towards Curtain Area Three. Gallant's eyes lit up and he nodded his head with a smile. "See, we've got this thing called the Intubo-Cam, and it lets us doctors see exactly what the med students are doing..."

-------------------------------

Where is my head?

Where are my bones?

Can you save me from myself?

-------------------------------

"Mom, listen, I'm really sorry, but I just got stuck in the ER," John said as he set his patient Dianna's arm in a cast, Nurse Yosh holding his cellular phone to his ear. He heard his mother's voice droning disapprovingly over the phone, and held back the urge to roll his eyes. Hell, she wouldn't see it anyway. He rolled his eyes. John hated Abby right now for convincing him to go back into the ER, because now he was stuck with several patients that various doctors and nurses had passed onto him. Wasn't he saying something earlier about the self-confidence to say no? "We could always reschedule. No, not tomorrow night, I have to work from twelve-noon tomorrow until twelve-midnight. What about Friday night?"

"Hey!" one of Touching Wood's roadies called from his seat in a nearby curtain area. Tonight had certainly been a night full of roadies and druggies from that concert they'd decided to hold in Chicago for Metallica, the opening act being Touching Wood, and Carter having been stuck with the worst of the patients. First Dianna, the girl's only problem at first being drug-induced idiocy, but now she had a broken arm, and now this roadie, who'd been waiting to have his toe sutured for hours. "Can I get this fixed up before it falls off?!"

John glanced around the ER for someone, anyone, who could help him out and suture this kid's toe - even if the only reason was to get him to shut up - but the only person who he could spot from here was Dave Malucci, who's fleeting form was escorting a young black man to Curtain Area Three. John's eyes immediately moved towards the clock. Shit, it was already that long into Dave's shift? John had been stuck here for that long??

"Yo, Carter," Malik said as he breezed past him, holding a pack of gauze in his hands. "Abby's kidney stone patient finally got set up to Urology. She said to give him GENT, but it wasn't charted, so should I give him a dose?"

"Not if she gave him one," John replied, his eyebrows raised at the should-be rhetorical question. Malik gave him a blank stare, and John sighed in response. "Call her up and make sure."

"And if she's not home?" he pressed, pausing momentarily.

John suddenly got an idea as he leaned back in his seat and smirked, pulling his cell phone out of his pants' pocket. "Know what? I need to yell at her anyway." John dialed her cell phone number, which he had committed to memory over the course of the summer, and then waited for her to answer. And when she did: "Having fun? Having a good time?" Pause. "Well guess what I'm doing? Setting the broken wrist of an LSDiva. You know, this is your fault that I'm stuck here after you pressed me to talk to Weaver about the Attending position! I got sucked into the ER vortex!"

"Since things seem to be dying down, John," he suddenly heard from next to him. He looked up from his seat where he was clearing up whether or not Abby administered GENT to her patient to see Dr. Weaver, and immediately narrowed his eyes as he saw she had her jacket and purse on her. "I'm going to head over to Doc Magoo's."

"Things aren't dying down!" he hissed incredulously. "I've got five patients, and I'm not even on!"

"Then sign out and leave!" she snapped angrily as John noted a familiar-looking man standing by the ER bay doors, obviously waiting for Kerry. He couldn't place the face of the pony-tailed man, didn't care to, and then angrily told Abby he had to go and hung up. Kerry suddenly turned. "Oh, and one more thing, John."

"Yes?" he asked with as much politeness as he could muster, putting on a fresh pair of gloves as he prepared to suture the roadie's toe.

"Your medical student is looking for you."

"I wasn't aware that I had one," he replied, a sneaking suspicion crawling inside the back of his mind that told him it was just the way Dr. Weaver had wanted it. She didn't reply, but was instead seemingly engulfed by the very interesting cast that the LSDiva was sporting. John sighed again, standing and ripping of his fresh gloves. The toe-lac patient would just have to wait a little longer. "Where is he?"

"I think he's with Malucci in Curtain Area Three," she replied, and John's throat closed up. He suddenly couldn't find his voice, and felt a wave of panic wash over him. Dave was with his medical student? What were they doing? Were they discussing a patient? Performing some sort of procedure? Why would Dave be with his medical student in the first place? "Is everything okay, John?"

John snapped out of his sudden onslaught of questions at himself and smiled. "Yeah, sure. I'll just go and introduce myself, I guess, and get everything started."

"Oh, and congratulations on your Chief Residency," she said casually before she left.

"Thanks, Kerry," he replied with a smile, though he wasn't acting Chief Resident until another few weeks or so. Kerry had given him the news on the telephone yesterday, and he'd already thanked her plenty for allowing him to get it. It had to have been due to some of her doing, otherwise he would've never gotten past the first cut.

John approached Curtain Area Three with more apprehension than he usually did, but when he listened from the hallway, he could only hear silence. Dave was usually...loud. If he were in there, surely John would've been able to hear him...unless he was by himself. Well, standing out here certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere, so John steeled himself and quickly entered the room.

Upon entering, he immediately noted that Dave was not in the room, and then he suddenly found religion and thanked God. There was however, a young black man standing next to an intubated patient, reading the different numbers on the monitors and noting them on the chart he was holding.

"Excuse me," John said, startling the young man slightly. He then realized that he hadn't gotten his medical student's name from Kerry. Damn it. Just another thing that'd gone wrong today. "I'm Dr. John Carter."

"Oh!" he said, recognition crossing his face even though he hadn't seen the man before. He immediately stuck out his hand. "I'm Michael Gallant, your third-year medical student."

"Nice to meet you," John said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He suddenly looked towards the door, remembering that Kerry had said Dave was with him and wondering if he was coming back. "What are you doing in here?"

"I just performed my first intubation," he reported proudly. "I hope you don't mind that I intubated with Dr. Dave. I was early and I guess I just wanted to help out...right now, I was just monitoring Mr. Steinbeck's oxygen levels."

"That's quite all right," John said, smiling. "Why don't you come with me, and we can work on some patients together, and then you can take some of your own. Say...where is Dr. Dave now?"

"A trauma came in," Gallant stated as they exited the room together, John pausing briefly to check the hallways for the junior resident before traveling to Admin. "He's taking care of him now in Trauma Two."

-------------------------------

Free-thinking renegade social

Mr. Moon Man now

In a slipstream of my possibilities

I got the boat so we don't drown

-------------------------------

"Paul, can you hear me?" Dave called loudly into his patient's ear, who had been unresponsive to anything thus far, including the Narcan he'd been administered due to his high pulse of 110 and chest pain. Paul's heart rate suddenly dropped to 98, the EKG beeping wildly. Dave soon realized that they would have to intubate. What the hell was wrong with this guy? "Has he been doing anything unusual to his schedule or anything like that?"

"Paul's first art show opens on Monday," Paul's brother, Glenn, explained, "so he's been an insomniac all week. But I didn't think it'd result in *this*."

A thought suddenly stuck Dave, something he hadn't even thought of before now; I would explain everything. He looked up at Glenn. "Does he do drugs?"

"No, I don't think so," Glenn said, shaking his head. "This is the first time I've seen him since he moved to Chicago."

Haleh passed Dave the EKG readings, and the resident took a moment to absorb the information he was seeing before his eyes. He glanced at the monitors, and then back to Haleh, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows, wondering how much further the patient's stats would have to drop before the resident diagnosed the patient.

"Let's get a tox screen," Dave said, and Haleh immediately wrote down the orders. "Jesus, his ST elevations are off the chart! He's having a major heart attack!"

"At twenty-seven years old?" Glenn asked, stunned, as he clutched his coat in his hands.

"It's pretty common among cocaine users," Dave said, "because the drug can constrict arteries."

"Oh, God," Glenn said, a look of horror on his face.

"Let's get 40 ccs of tenecteplase," Dave said, setting his jaw. "We gotta bust the clot."

"I'm not giving him thrombolytics until an Attending or Chief Resident signs off on the procedure," Haleh reported, crossing her arms over her chest for emphasis.

"Come on!" Dave barked, incredulous. He indicated the monitors, which were beeping wildly as if to agree with him. "Time is heart muscle!"

"No," Haleh insisted, shaking her head. "I'm not doing it until you run it past Carter or Dr. Weaver!"

"Then get one of them!" he shouted, praying to God that she'd get Dr. Weaver instead of -

-------------------------------

These are the days that I'm split down the middle

No words to calm me down

Be sure that what you dream of

Won't come to hunt you out

-------------------------------

"Carter!" he heard the unmistakable voice of Haleh Adams yell as she entered the small exam room where he was helping a patient's mother calm her nosebleed. He turned to face her after instructing his newest patient to keep pressure on the bridge of her nose. "Dr. Malucci needs you in Trauma Two, his patient's crashing!"

"So why can't he handle it?" John asked, placing his hands on his hips as she led him out of the room. He didn't think he could face the younger doctor - not today, maybe tomorrow but not today, definitely not today.

"He needs you to sign off on thrombolytics," she reported, rushing towards the trauma room, John following close behind. John sighed as they neared the trauma room, took a deep breath to settle his nerves, then entered the room, his stride much more confident than he actually felt.

"Hello, Dr. Malucci," John said, and the junior resident looked up from their intubated patient. John immediately noticed Dave's black eye, wondering how it'd happened. Did a patient get too hard to control? Maybe he had gotten into a fight at a bar or something. He hoped that everything had worked out okay in the end. Wait, he wasn't supposed to care. Well, you could care about your friends, couldn't you?

Upon seeing John, Dave wondered if being upset was the right course of action. What would it gain? He and John would stop being friends all together...he and John would end up just like he and Luka, and Dave didn't want that, he didn't want that at all. Maybe he could just show John that nothing between them have changed. If he couldn't be his lover, then he could at least be his friend.

"Hi, Carter," Dave said, then indicated the patient, who was lying unconscious on the gurney, the monitors beeping and indicating a sense of palpable panic in the air. "Twenty-seven-year-old man, acute MI, possible cocaine user. I'm ready to push TNK but I need you to sign it off."

"Did you get a tox screen?" Carter asked as he glanced at the x-rays, which were hanging behind Dave.

"Yeah, but he's killing myocardial cells while we wait," Dave said. "There's no recent surgery and the blood draws say there's no disorders, so can I push the TNK?"

"Yeah, sure," John said, nodding. He looked from the x-rays to Dave. "If you want to kill him."

Dave looked up at John, then instinctively at his patient. He, once more, looked up at John, a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"He looks Marfanoid," John reported, nodding towards the x-rays. "See for yourself."

Dave peeled his eyes away from John, slowly turning away from the Chief Resident to look at the x-rays. He fully turned away from John, approaching the light box that the x-rays were hanging from. Then, finally, quietly: "What do you mean?"

"Marfan's syndrome," John explained, joining Dave at the x-rays, glancing at the junior resident in his peripheral vision, though the younger man was studying the x-rays intensely. "Tall stature, pectus excavatum, loose joints. Didn't you ask for a family history?"

"I did," Dave said, stricken. He would've killed this patient because he was careless, because he thought he had all the answers, because he thought he was smarter than the process. "The family didn't say anything," he said, though he even sounded defeated to himself.

"Maybe Glenn didn't know," John pointed out logically. He turned to Dave to remind him not to assume, that assuming could result in something so extreme as death, but when he saw the expression on Dave's face, he saw that he had already learned that lesson. "Look, see? They have weak connective tissue in the aorta. He's dissecting."

"I was going to give thrombolytics to an aortic dissection?" Dave asked himself quietly. If he had done that, the drug would've worsened Paul's condition, creating ultra-thin blood that would've flooded the aorta and bathed Paul's chest in fluid. His patient would've bled out; his patient would've died - no - he would've *killed* his patient.

"So what should you do?" John asked, trying to pull Dave out of the daze he was in. John gently placed his hand on Dave's shoulder, slightly turning the younger man so he would look at him. Dave's eyes slowly looking up away from the floor and into John's, the junior resident's eyes portraying the horror at his almost-mistake. John felt a sudden pull at his chest and recognized it as worry; this had obviously affected Dave greatly. "Dave, what should you do?"

"I..." Dave started. God, he would've killed his patient! He would've killed his twenty-seven-year-old patient! Paul was younger than he was! And all because he assumed! "I don't know..."

"Yes, you do, Dave," John said gently, aware of Haleh's eyes on him, but uncaring. "Dave, what would you do to any other patient who was dissecting, who didn't have Marfan's?"

"I, uh..." Dave said, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. He blinked hard and looked at his patient. "I'd check the aorta for a rhythm. And get him up to surgery. He has to go to surgery. Page Dr. Benton."

Dave moved away from John, taking over the situation once more. Satisfied that he'd rectified the situation, John crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Dave worked on the patient, every order careful and doubly checked by the junior resident to make sure he didn't make the same mistake again. If Dave was anything, then he was a fast learner. John smiled as left the trauma room, unaware that he had one on his face until he caught his own reflection in the glass of the trauma room doors.

-------------------------------

Where is my head?

Where are my bones?

Why are my days so far from home?

Ghostman

-------------------------------

Dr. Weaver stared at Paul's x-rays, which were still hanging from the light box inside the trauma room where, moments earlier, Paul used to lie. He was currently in the OR with Dr. Corday, who was desperately trying to save his life, though from what Dave had heard, was having a hard time. He silently hoped that the young artist made it through, and that the delay in a diagnosis because of his error didn't affect the outcome of the surgery.

"You don't know what Marfan's looks like?" the Chief of the Emergency Department asked, turning towards Dave.

"He's an artist, he was up all week," Dave said, offering the only explanation he could come up with, sticking with what he knew. But it was what he didn't know that had mattered in this case. "I was thinking cocaine."

"Did you check the blood pressure in both arms?" Kerry asked expectantly, her temper obviously running short today. Dave muttered something under his breath, looking down. "Did you or didn't you?!"

"No," he spat, snapping his head up to look her in the eye. He immediately looked away again, feeling Dr. Weaver and John's gaze, who was also in the room. He didn't need this, he didn't need to be chewed out right in front of the one person that mattered the most to him. He *couldn't* be chewed out right in front of the one person that mattered the most to him, he realized. If he did, he was pretty sure he'd burst into tears.

"It's a good thing Dr. Carter here checked out the x-rays, which *you* indicated were clear, Dr. Malucci, or your patient would've died!" she said through clenched teeth. "I can't even imagine what you were doing when you looked at the x-rays."

"He was crashing!" Dave tried to argue, tried to save the last bit of respect he had from Dr. Weaver. "I had to make a quick decision or else he was going to die!'

"Know what? That's your job. You make quick decisions based on the information available," she snapped, her anger warping the usually pretty features of her face. "You had the right information, but you didn't bother to look at it."

He was utterly and bitterly embarrassed. If she was going to do this, couldn't she do it in private? She had to make a fucking ass out of him in front of John? He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as anger overtook his emotions. "And you've never made a bad call?"

"Dave," John said, trying to warn him before he treaded too far into the deep waters that he was heading for. Continuing in the direction he was going would surely be suicide.

"Not as lethal and stupid as this one could've resulted in!" she raged, looking up at him with pure disgust in her eyes.

"Well, guess what, Dr. Weaver?" Dave asked sarcastically. "This isn't a perfect world, where every doctor can correctly diagnose patients!"

"In a perfect world, Malucci, I wouldn't even subject patients to your care!" she yelled. "If you knew your ass from your elbow, or even gave a damn...!"

"I do," he choked. "I *do* give a damn!"

"...then this man would've made it up to surgery without his doctor almost killing him!" she finished, yelling over his deep voice to be heard.

"Paul could die in surgery anyway," John said, trying to take Dave's attention away from Dr. Weaver before the young doctor said something that could endanger his position here at Cook County.

"He would've definitely died had Dr. Malucci given him thrombolytics," Kerry concluded, staring Dave right in his eyes. Dave suddenly moved, heading towards the door. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"I need to tell Glenn that his brother has Marfan's," he said, hoping that this act of professionalism would show them - particularly John - that he *did* give a damn. "And the family needs to be screened."

"I'll do it," John offered.

"No, *I'll* do it," Kerry snapped, pointing to neither of them but rather to finalize her instruction. She turned to leave, but paused at the door. "No one talks about this case! Is that clear?"

"Yes," Dave hissed, John complying with a calm, "Yes, Dr. Weaver."

She left the room, leaving Dave and John alone. Dave crossed his arms over his chest, his breathing becoming ragged as he felt the rage boiling inside him. Fuck Dr. Weaver, he thought angrily, his hands clenching into fists. Fuck her for chewing him out like that! he thought as his jaws worked against one another. Fuck her for chewing him out like that in front of John! he thought as he heard the Chief Resident call his name in an attempt to calm him down. Fuck her for being right! he thought as he turned and knocked a metal instrument tray to the floor in mute fury.

"Dave..." John repeated as he reached for the junior resident, who was crossing the room to the door quickly, his strides long and angry. He touched the younger man's arm, but Dave pulled away roughly, startling John.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he shouted, his face contorted in a sort of rage the older doctor had never seen before. John glanced at him in surprise, but the other doctor just left the room, leaving John, once more, alone.

-------------------------------

Where is my head?

Where are my bones?

How could we get so lost?

Ghostman

-------------------------------

Careening out of control, Dave stormed out of the trauma room, heading, for no reason he could think of, towards the elevator. He stepped inside, angrily jabbing at the button to a random floor several times until the doors closed, and rode the empty car until it stopped on his floor. He slid out of the elevator and quietly moved down the hallway.

His pace slowed, but he did not stop as he saw the medication room to this floor was completely open and unattended. He kept moving, but then his body would no longer listen to his mind, and he stopped completely. He glanced around, then turned and found himself inside the room, searching...searching...but searching for what? he wondered, but could easily answer his own question. He was searching for something to take the pain away. And sitting there, on the third shelf from the top, were the Percocets and Klonipin. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the two bottles and hastily shook out a few pills from each into his hand before returning them to their proper shelf. As a doctor, he knew that taking them together was dangerous, but he desperately needed something to mellow him out and help him to forget, if only momentarily.

"Hey," he suddenly heard from behind him, startling him. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was checking to see if this room was unattended," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, the pills concealed in his hands as he turned to face a pretty young nurse. He raised his eyebrows, turning the tables. "And, apparently, it is."

"I...I left it unlocked by mistake," she said, looking down at the ground as she realized that a doctor had just discovered her error.

"That's one hell of a mistake, don't you think?" he asked, the coating of the pills melting in the heat of his palm, making his hand sticky.

"Yes, Doctor," she said, nodding. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him. "Please don't tell my nursing supervisor. I'm new, and I don't want to get into trouble..."

"You need to be more careful," he reprimanded. "You never know who will come along and steal something." Yeah, he thought to himself, gripping the pills tighter, feeling his fingernails digging into his skin. Someone like me.

"Yes, Doctor," she repeated softly. "I'm sorry..."

"Mistakes happen," he said, equally soft. "Trust me, I know. I make them all the time."

She suddenly narrowed her eyes at him, her expression turning to one of concern and worry. "Are you okay, Doctor?"

He shook his head slightly as he cleared the thoughts from his mind. "Yes, I'm fine, just a long shift. Thanks for asking. I'll see you around."

Dave moved out into the hallway, feeling the pretty nurse's gaze on his back as he quickly walked down the corridor. He could hear soft crying, and when he glanced inside a waiting room, he saw Glenn holding, presumably, his crying mother. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, his eyes darting to the sign on the door, indicating just exactly which waiting room this was: the surgical waiting room. Dear Jesus.

Bolting from his spot in the hallway and to an alternate exit of this floor, running down the back steps, his whole body trembling and his heart ramming in his chest. He needed to calm down or else he would lose his mind. Reaching a patient floor, he quickly moved into the men's room, slamming the door closed behind him and locking it, making sure there was no one inside first. Once he was sure he was safe and alone, he opened his palm, revealing the pills. He counted several of them; he'd taken more than he thought he had. He took one of the Klonopins and Percocets and swallowed them, following them with a handful of water from the tap.

Oh, God, what had he just done?

He caught his reflection in the mirror, the ghastly figure staring back at him almost startling him. Was that him? That pale, trembling person in the mirror was him? He touched his face just to make sure, and lo and behold, it *was* him. Lord, how had he managed to get into this sort of state? How had he managed to succumb to...to *this*?

Dave placed the rest of the pills in his pocket and sighed; he would save them for the next time he couldn't deal with life, which were moments that were coming more and more often. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dave knew that he was spiraling out of control, but was helpless to stop it - and maybe he didn't really want to.

He splashed water on his face, finding comfort in the coolness and, moreover, in that feeling he got every time he took pills. Usually, he didn't like the way he felt when he took pills, but today was different, because today he was doing it not to get through a shift, not to help out his mood, but to forget. What would happen if he took all the pills and found a nice, quiet place, and "forgot" forever? Would anyone care? Would anyone look for him? Probably not. No one had the last time he'd tried to make things "better."

Soon, Dave found himself back in the ER, ready to start treating patients again. He walked to the Admin desk only to be met by Randi, who shoved a chart into his stomach.

"Where have you been?" she asked. "Weaver's been looking for you. She's pissed that you haven't answered your pages."

"What?" he asked, the drugs taking hold of him. He should've grabbed some Dexedrine, he realized now, as he felt sleepy, almost as if he was walking in a dream. Everything had a sort of surreal effect, movements were slow and hazy, and little halos surrounded the lights. He was almost surprised, because he'd never had this kind of result from the drugs, but then again he had never taken them together before.

"Dave...?" Randi asked, looking him over. He looked like shit run over twice, and he looked like he *felt* that way too. "Are you okay?"

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"You seem out of it," she whispered, leaning closer to him so no one else would hear. "Have you been drinking?"

"No!" Dave snapped, surprising Randi and himself. "I'm just tired...and, uh...a little sick."

"Well, you'd better start treating patients before Weaver puts you out of your misery," Randi warned.

"Malucci!"

"Too late," Randi muttered under her breath as Dr. Weaver approached them, fury written all over her face.

"Yes, Dr. Weaver?" Dave asked softly, not daring to make eye contact with the Chief of the ED. Randi glanced at him quizzically; he almost seemed like a scared child, not the defiant man that she knew. Something was definitely wrong here.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Uh...I..."

"Uh, I - you *what*, Malucci?" she snapped, mocking him. He startled visibly, causing Dr. Weaver's eyes to narrow in concern.

"I went up to surgery," he sputtered, looking down at the floor. "To see how Paul was..."

"I thought I told you to stay away from him and his family?" she asked, once again angered by the junior resident's inability to follow directions.

"I did," he whispered, feeling suddenly dizzy as he was overcome by emotion and the drugs. "I just looked through the window...I...I didn't bother them."

Dr. Weaver was about to say something else, but there was something about Dave that just didn't settle right with her...he was off...he wasn't his smug defiant self. She glanced at Randi, who was looking at Dave with a worried and slightly puzzled expression of her own. "Are you sick, Dr. Malucci?"

"No..." he said. "Dr. Weaver, I just...I didn't bother them, I just..."

"Go sign out, your shift is over," she said, taking the chart from the young doctor. She'd never seen Dave so upset. Angry, yes. Anger was an emotion that she had seen from him many times, but nothing like this...

"No, I have another two hours," he said, suddenly desperate. "Don't suspend me again, please?"

"You've..." she started, unable to finish the statement of vehemence that she was about to deliver. She was still very upset with him, but even *she* couldn't kick him while he was this down. "You're not suspended, Malucci. Just think about what I said, and come back next shift."

"Okay," he responded, walking away without looking at either woman.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Dr. Weaver asked Randi once Dave was out of earshot.

"Don't you know?" Randi asked, almost accusingly, looking at Dr. Weaver with a sort of abhorrence in her eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean, Randi?" she snapped.

"Whatever you think it does."

-------------------------------

I stand around at American weddings

I stand around for family

At my best when I'm terrorist inside

At my best when it's on me

-------------------------------

"Hey, Carter," he heard as someone grabbed his arm. He turned to see Dr. Edson, a grin on the surgeon's face. "I scheduled your bleeding-nose patient for a septoplasty next week."

"She had a nasal defect?" John asked, feigning surprise. He wasn't really into the conversation, his thoughts traveling to Dave, a person who seemed to be present in his mind often these days.

"Two grams of coke a day will do that," Edson said, smirking. Where was Dave now? He had at least an hour left of his shift... "You look pretty tired. Must be having a long shift."

"I'm not even on," John said, adding something to his side of the conversation.

"Go home!" Edson exclaimed incredulously. Maybe Dave was up on the roof. He'd heard that that was the spot Dave liked to go to lately, to be alone and gather his thoughts. Would he mind if John joined him? He had seemed upset, specifically when he cussed at John before leaving the trauma room.

"I can't," John said. He wanted to stay and look for Dave, maybe reconcile with the younger man. But why would he want to do that? Because they were friends - at least they had been before... - and that's what friends did. They got into arguments and they reconciled, and were back to being friends again. He looked up at a confused surgeon. "I mean, I might as well stay and nap at County; my next shift is at noon."

"Bad idea," Dr. Dale Edson warned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You know what they say: 'The longer you stay, the longer you stay.'"

John managed a smile as he shook his head, turning and heading for the roof. He could at least try it, and if he wasn't there then he could head over to Doc Magoo's before asking anyone anything. Passing the trauma room, he paused momentarily as he saw Randi taking down Paul's x-rays and slipping them inside the manila envelope they had been sent down from radiology in. Deciding that maybe asking would help him find Dave quicker, John entered the room, pushing the door open and leaning against it.

"Have you seen Dr. Malucci, Randi?" John asked, and the young desk temp turned around, the films at her side.

"He went home."

"Home?" John asked, puzzled as Randi approached him and joined him in the wide doorway. "Why would he go home?"

"Dr. Weaver sent him home," Randi said, and John let out a sigh of disdain. "Don't worry, she didn't suspend him again, she just told him to go home for the day because he was so upset."

"Tell me about it," John said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think I got the brunt end of his anger after she left the trauma room."

"No, not angry..." Randi stated, shaking her head. John tilted his head, a sign of his confusion, telling her to elaborate. "He was *upset*...like, I don't know...he was acting weird. I asked him if he was drinking, and he said no, that he wasn't feeling well. Then when Weaver asked him if he was sick he said no, but...I don't know. Whatever, you'd know better than I do, I don't even know what happened in here today. I'll see you later, Carter."

John watched her leave the trauma room and head back towards admin, his mind absorbing what she'd just told him. Dave was upset? He'd only seemed angry last time John had seen him, which only left him with one question...

What had happened between the last time John had seen him and when he'd left work?

-------------------------------

Ghostman, how could we get so lost?

Ghostman, where is my head?

Where are my bones?

Can you save me from myself?

-------------------------------

A scream emerged from deep within his throat, echoing off of the walls like a cacophony of the dying, his cry of death the loudest of them all. Sitting straight up in bed, his throat raw, it took David Malucci a few moments to realize where he was, even in the morning sun that had managed to creep through the blinds of his bedroom, casting shadows on the walls and in the corners of the room.

He took a few moments to catch is breath and gather his thoughts, trying to erase the memories of his nightmare. It hadn't been the worst one he'd ever had, but it was right up there with the best of them, with the ones that remained so vivid in the back of his irises he never thought he would be able to close his eyes again.

Pushing the covers back, Dave stepped out of bed, his bare feet touching the dirty carpet that, no matter how hard he tried to clean, always remained that ugly shade of beige. He crossed the room, heading towards his small bathroom, closing the bathroom door behind him as if he were afraid someone might witness the act he was about to perform.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, running his hands through his tousled hair and then scrubbing his face with them. Bringing his hands to rest on the sink counter, Dave stared at the dripping sink for a few moments in an attempt to calm down, his breathing shaky. He suddenly opened the mirror cabinet, and saw them sitting on one of the textured glass shelves: the four pills, two of each kind of drug.

He grabbed one of each without the slightest bit of hesitation, and immediately placed them in his mouth, swallowing them dry. He stood at the sink for a moment longer, then slammed the mirror closed so hard the glass actually cracked. Unable to look himself in the eye after what he'd just done, Dave turned to exit the bathroom, ready to start forgetting.

But how much further was he willing to let this go? How much longer was he going to continue to do this? How many more pills until his problems went away completely because he was dead or, even worse, a babbling gork in a nursing home?

Suddenly, abruptly, he turned sharply on his heel before he'd even gotten two steps out of the bathroom and moved back inside quickly. He knelt down on the floor before the toilet and opened the lid, sticking his fingers down his throat. After a couple more tries and a few more dry heaves, the two pills were floating in the water.

Dave placed his hand to his forehead, a pained expression coming to his face. His hand slid down over his mouth, almost as if that alone would stop the sob from escaping his throat. The hot tears spilled down his cheeks and onto his fingers, and he started shaking as he buried his face in his hands. He reached blindly out to the back of the toilet, and very soon the two pills were swirling down the toilet drain, just like his life seemed to be doing.

-------------------------------

Where is my head?

Where are my bones?

Can you save me from myself?

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Six: Push Rewind -------------------------------

7am;

The garbage truck beeps as it backs up

And I start my day thinking about what I've thrown away

-------------------------------

Dr. John Carter lie on his back, his arms outstretched directly above his face, holding the metal weights in the air. He held them there for a few moments, holding his breath as well, and then exhaled as he lowered them to his sides. A fresh breeze passed over him, managing to cool down his sweating body somewhat; it was a nice day in the fall, just perfect for going outside and doing something recreational, such as lifting weights, as he was doing right now in his backyard.

Letting his mind wander, it traveled back to a place it had been since yesterday: Randi explaining to him that Dave was upset. When he said he'd known that Dave was angry, the young desk clerk had explained that he wasn't just *angry*, he was upset. But when encouraged to elaborate, she couldn't even come up with anything besides "I don't know." She'd even said he'd know better then she would, and what bothered him was that he didn't. And what bothered him even more was that he wanted to, because usually he wouldn't have given Dave or the younger man's problems a second thought. In fact, he'd always just assumed that "Dr. Dave" didn't have any problems at all.

"Are you all right?" he heard his grandmother ask, pulling him from his thoughts. He slightly turned his head to look at her from his seat on the flat lounge chair, a smile on his lips due to her concern for her grandson. It vanished as soon as he saw she was holding an aspirin and a glass of water. "I was wondering if you wanted some aspirin. I know your back has been troubling you lately."

"Thanks, Gamma, but no thanks," he said as he raised his arms again in the air, pausing as he held them there. His back was sending a dull ache through his body right now, but he didn't want to take the aspirin only because then he'd be admitting that it *was* bothering him. And the last thing he wanted to do was bother his Gamma. He glanced at her worried expression. "I don't need it. I just need to exercise a bit, and I'll be fine."

"What you need is to see my orthopedist," she stated as she placed the glass of water on the patio table, leaving the aspirin in case John changed his mind about not wanting it. "I'm making you an appointment today."

"I'm covering a half-shift today."

"Then tomorrow," she pressed.

"Gamma, I don't need to see your doctor," he said, shaking his head as he placed the weights on the ground next to him, and then sat up.

"Your back is nothing to trifle with," Gamma advised, wagging a disapproving finger at him. "You don't want to end up with a hunch like Uncle Everett."

John tossed her a look, displaying his exasperation. "This isn't orthopedic, Gamma. I was stabbed," he reminded her.

"I know that, John," she reminded *him*. "All the more reason to take care of yourself." He let out a sigh as she held out the glass to her, but when he went to take it from her, her hand jerked subtly and the glass fell to the ground, shattering. "Oh, sorry!"

"That's okay, Gamma," he said, stopping her before she could bend down to pick it up. "I'll get it."

"No! Don't move!" she exclaimed, startling him. He looked up at her, puzzled. "You have no shoes on!"

"All a part of my ninja training," he said with a smile, throwing his feet over the side of the lounge chair.

His grandmother glanced at her grandson, her turn to be puzzled. "Your what?"

-------------------------------

Could I push rewind?

The credits traverse, signifying the end

-------------------------------

Dr. Dave walked through the hallways of Cook County General, heading towards an exam room where he'd been told Dr. Finch could be found. He glanced at the chart he was holding, which he was tossing back and forth between his hands.

Since Monday, his mood had increased slightly, though not by much. But at least he wasn't lashing out at everyone for no apparent reason anymore, as he had been a few days ago. Now, he kept to himself, doing what he was told when he was told to do it, throwing in a few sarcastic remarks here and there just to keep up the fa�ade so people wouldn't be too concerned. When people were concerned, they started asking questions, and he didn't want anyone to ask anything about him.

On that note, Dave considered the fact that John Carter knew about his past - or some of it, anyway. The only person he'd ever confided in had let him down terribly, going from friends to something more and now...now they weren't anything, just coworkers. What if John told someone else about Dave's past? Would the older man do that, on spite for the way Dave had cussed at him in the trauma room on Monday? No, John wasn't that kind of person...

But then again, Saturday night, Dave had thought John wasn't the kind of person to lead him on in such a way to think something could actually be happening romantically between them, and then in the light of the morning change his mind. He was almost sure that John wasn't that kind of person - in fact, he had been positive that he wasn't that type of person.

And he'd been wrong about that, so could he be wrong about this too?

Putting that thought aside for now, Dave pushed open the door to the dark exam room, save the single examination light, and saw Cleo and Dr. Benton hovering over an unconscious patient. He flashed a smile, knowing Cleo would probably be glad to have a patient off of her hands. "Hey, Cleo. I reduced your prolapsed rectum."

"You what?" she asked, her features twisting into annoyance instead of a smile, as he'd hoped. "You treated my patient?"

"The girl was in a lot of pain," he explained. She was angry with him? He'd just helped her out! What the hell was *her* problem? "So I used my sugar trick."

"Sugar trick?" she asked, exchanging a glance with Dr. Benton.

"Yeah," he said, displaying with his hands: "Sprinkle it on, water escapes from the mucosa, the edema subsides, and" - sound effect added - "pop that puppy back in."

"You should've let me look at it first, Malucci," Dr. Benton said, frowning as he paused in his suturing. Dave glanced at him. Jeeze, sue a guy for trying to help a person out. He was just trying to be nice. He could've just let that girl suffer, you know. "It could've been a prolapsed hemorrhoid."

"Trust me," Dave said, shaking his head at the thought. "That was no hemorrhoid."

He exited the room rather annoyed, but it seemed as if he wasn't the only one who *was* annoyed. Following close behind was Dr. Finch, still admonishing him for doing her a favor. "Don't treat my patients," she said, continuing to follow him all the way to the Admin Desk, where he dropped the chart into a pile with the other finished ones.

"Why?" he asked, shrugging, still wondering what the big problem was. "I rectified the situation." He paused, then smiled. "*Rect*-ify. Get it? Funny."

"Any idiot could shove an anus back in," Cleo said, obviously not humored. Dave sighed, rolling his eyes. He really didn't need this right now; he still had a whole shift ahead of him, and he didn't want this to hover over him the whole time, to put him in a bad mood. "I was waiting for a surgical consult on that patient, Dave."

"Oh, come on," he retorted. "You were gabbing with your boyfriend."

"Is there a problem?" he suddenly heard Dr. Weaver ask from the board of patient names. Great, now she was going to gang up on him too?

"Yes," Dave said, glancing at Cleo as he said so. "I never met anyone so possessive over someone else's butthole."

"Don't touch my patients!" she called as she headed back towards the exam room. He waved off her concern as he watched her fleeting form, and then turned to take care of another patient, one of his own.

That was just about the last time he'd ever do anyone a favor again, he decided. God, he'd just been trying to *help* her, couldn't she see that? Couldn't anyone see he could do something for another living being without an ulterior motive, or without thinking he was a cocky jerk? How could he change? And what could he possibly change into? Something that he wasn't? Why couldn't they just accept him for who he was and accept the fact that he cared?

Dave let out a silent sigh, his pace slowing. He stopped, holding the chart in his hand, glancing through it though he wasn't really seeing it. He looked up, then to his right. The drug lockup. He was really down after what had just happened between Cleo and himself, but was that pick-me-up really worth it? The night he'd nearly killed his own patient, he'd promised himself he wouldn't steal any more pills...

But that didn't mean he couldn't take the ones he already *had*, did it?

-------------------------------

But I missed the best part

Could we please go back to start?

-------------------------------

Dr. Luka Kovac moved down the hallway of the ER, searching for Dave. The older man hadn't seen him his whole shift, and he still desperately wanted to speak with the younger man. Dave had, over the past few weeks, managed to cloud his mind. He was the only thing that Luka could think about, and that thought startled him. He hadn't thought of anyone like this since...God, how much he hated to admit it, but he hadn't thought of anyone like this since Danijela. What was wrong with him? He couldn't *love* Dave, could he?

That was ridiculous, his alter ego said. How could you love someone that you didn't even know? But he did know Dave. Sure, he might not have known where the junior resident was born or even his birthday, but he did know that Dave liked to get up in the middle of the night and watch television, he did know that Dave's favorite beer was Heineken, and he did know that Dave listened to classical music in the shower. God...how could he have been so stupid? So blind to see what Dave had felt for him wasn't just physical attraction? How could he not see that Dave had feelings? Well-hidden feelings, but deep feelings? How could he not see that Dave cared for him? And, most importantly, how could he have hurt Dave like that?

Luka glanced inside a dark exam room as he moved down the hallway, the blinds open. He spotted Dr. Carter examining his own foot in the examination light, obviously having a hard time doing so. Luka's pace faltered as he remembered Dave asking the Chief Resident to share a beer with him. Had their night escalated to anything more than that? Had it escalated to what Luka and Dave's first night together had escalated to? Had John even joined Dave that night? Maybe they hadn't even gone out...or maybe they had...and maybe they were in a relationship - not just sex but something more than that, something that Dave had wanted from Luka, something that Luka yearned from Dave now.

Finally stopping, Luka turned and headed back towards the exam room. If he couldn't find out any information from Dave, then maybe he could find out some information from Dr. Carter.

-------------------------------

Forgive my indecision...

-------------------------------

John sat on top of the patient bed in the empty exam room, trying to position himself so he could see the bottom of his foot. He should've listened to his grandmother when she told him not to try to clean up the shattered glass without shoes on. Now, hours later, it was all coming back to bite him in the - well - foot.

The door opened, and John glanced up to see Luka enter the room. John smiled at the older man, who returned the gesture, and then indicated his foot after seeing the Attending's puzzled glance. "I stepped on a piece of glass this morning..." he admitted sheepishly, slightly embarrassed.

"Are you sure?" Luka asked as he bent down to glance at it, touching it gently with his fingers only to receive a yelp from John. "Yep, you've definitely got something in there. Let me see if I can get it out."

"Sure, thanks," John said, holding the pair of tweezers as Luka pulled up a stool and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Luka took the tweezers from John and then began to attempt to remove the piece of glass from John's foot, John wincing occasionally in pain.

"How did Saturday night go?" Luka asked casually, not glancing up at the older man.

John looked at Luka in surprise, his head spinning with the quick movement in addition to the thought that Luka knew something - but knew what? The only thing he could ask was a choked: "Saturday?"

Luka glanced up at John from under his brow. "You went out for a beer with Dave, no?"

"Oh! Right," John said. Luka, once again, looked down at John's foot, continuing with his task. John tried to think of the many reasons why Luka would bring this up. Dave hadn't mentioned anything to the Attending, had he? Dave had seemed very upset the last time John and he had crossed paths, which was Monday, the day of the Marfan's Syndrome case. What if he'd said something to Luka in his anger? Something about he and John? John realized that Luka had asked him a question, and immediately began to reply. "We went out to Del Monte's, a bar nearby. Just had a beer or two, and then we went home - separately," he hastily added.

Luka held back the urge to convey a curious expression. He had noted the fact that John had emphasized that the two men had gone home alone. Was he trying to hide something? Or was it just Luka being paranoid? "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, Dave is always good for a laugh or two," was the reply. John winced as Luka exerted too much pressure on his foot. He realized that maybe he wasn't the only one who knew Dave's sexuality. What if Luka knew? Were he and Dave good enough friends for the junior resident to share something so personal like that? The two of them barely spoke...but then again, the two of them were currently in a fight, so they had to have been in some sort of relationship previously...wait...Dave and Luka weren't - ? "Oh my God."

"What?" Luka asked, looking up. John chastised himself for uttering those words out loud, but how could he have helped it after just realizing he'd walked into some sort of romance? Dave and Luka had been together, how could he have missed that? Maybe John wasn't even really all that accurate. What if he was just imagining things after what had occurred between himself and Dave? "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes," John said quickly, maybe too quickly, but he didn't care right now. He just wanted to get out of this room before he cracked. He knew sooner or later he'd say something stupid that would give away the fact that he knew, and he thought that this was something he'd better keep to himself. He wasn't sure why. But if he knew about Dave and Luka, did that mean Luka could know about Dave and himself?

"Sorry," Luka apologized. He looked up at John, waiting for the younger man to say something more, to say something that would make Luka change his mind about thinking something had happened between the two residents. Please, Luka begged silently. Say something.

Say something! John screamed silently to himself as Luka stared at him, waiting. Say something to make Luka think otherwise of his suspicions, just in case he has any! Say something! Say something! Say something!

The door suddenly opened, startling both men, though John more than Luka, and Haleh poked her head inside the room, her eyes landing on John. "Dr. Chen needs you in Trauma One, STAT."

"Thanks, Haleh," John said, quickly putting on his sock and shoe before limping away. "Thanks, Luka, but I guess I'll get it out later."

"Right," Luka said, keeping his back to the younger man as he left the room, snapping off his gloves and slamming them onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Something *had* happened between Dr. Carter and Dave, but just exactly what? Standing, he decided that the only other way was to simply ask Dave.

-------------------------------

Then again, you're always first

When no one's on your side

-------------------------------

Dexedrine in his system, causing him to be overly elated and overly bold, Dr. David Malucci breezed through the ER. He'd brought the pills to work in his pocket, intending to return it to the drug lockup, but after that confrontation with Cleo, he'd decided that maybe it wouldn't hurt to take them. After all, he would've been walking through this shift with that hovering over him, and at least with the Dexedrine, he wouldn't have to think of it as much. And when he didn't think of it, he was happy and able to get along with people better, thus treating patients better. Well, that's what he told himself anyway, to justify his actions.

Since leaving the bathroom - where he had taken the Dexedrine - Dave had decided that maybe the best course of action was to simply leave this hospital. He could transfer out to another hospital, where there was no Luka and no John and no presumptuous coworkers who thought they knew everything there was to know about Dr. Dave. He smiled; a new start for a new man.

He wanted to speak to Dr. Greene about this first before going to the Chief about it. She wasn't in the best mood today - or so Randi had warned - and he figured that maybe the Attending could give him some advice before his final decision.

Spotting Dr. Greene tending to a street performer with his former medical student, Abby Lockhart, he called out to him, approaching him at a fast pace. "Hey, Boss, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Dr. Greene said as he kept his eyes on his patient.

"Hey..." Dave said as he spotted a beautiful paramedic walking into the elevator. To his surprise, she smiled back, even waving at him. Maybe today wasn't such a bad day after all! He suddenly saw Luka approaching, heading straight for him, and decided to wipe away his previous thought. Up until now, he'd managed to evade the older man, and right now he didn't feel like speaking with the Attending. Quickly, he sprinted towards the elevator's closing doors.

"Dave?" he heard Dr. Greene call from behind him. "What is it, Dave?"

"Nothing!" he quickly said as Luka quickened his pace subtly. The resident quickly moved onto the nearly full elevator at the dismay of one of the passengers, and the doors closed behind him. He quickly thought up an excuse. "Medical emergency."

"You're a doctor?" he heard the pretty paramedic ask him skeptically, glancing over his scrub top and jeans.

"Yeah," he said, crossing his arms over his chest proudly. "I'm Dr. Dave."

"So I've been warned," she sighed, mistaking his behavior for flirtation. Dave smiled in spite of himself, turning towards the closed elevator doors, wondering what he was going to do once he got to whatever floor he decided to get off on. He'd have to eventually go back to the ER, and hopefully dodge Luka for the rest of his shift.

Halfway to the second floor, the elevator suddenly lurched to a stop, causing a groan to emit throughout the car. The patient who had previously warned Dave once again reminded him: "I told you we were full!"

Dave sighed, opening the panel door on the side of the elevator and picking up the emergency telephone, connecting with the hospital's security and asking when they were going to be let out of this sweltering-hot elevator car. When Dave relayed that they were working on it, he considered just how bad this really was. At least he was stuck in here next to a pretty girl instead of the fat man in the wheelchair behind him, who was grousing that he had an ulcer. At least he wasn't stuck in here with Luka. Or John, who, luckily, only had a few more hours left of the half-shift that he was working today.

Suddenly feeling playful - perhaps from the Dexedrine and perhaps not - Dave leaned closer to the paramedic, whose nametag read the name Chloe. "If you get scared," he whispered to her, a sly smile on his face. "I'll hold you."

"And what is it that I might get scared of?" she wondered, looking up at the handsome resident with a raised eyebrow, though there was amusement in her eyes.

"Plummeting to our deaths," he replied casually, keeping that sly smile.

"What?" a woman asked from behind them, having overheard what Dave had just said.

"He was kidding, ma'am," Chloe said quickly, glaring at Dave for needlessly alarming someone. Dave just smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "It could happen." The paramedic looked at him for a few moments, then rolled her eyes and turned away, though Dave could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," the man in the wheelchair moaned just as a woman commented that she felt faint.

Dave turned to face them, holding his hands out, the paramedic following suit. "No one's going to be sick, no one's going to faint," he said, trying to reassure them, as if that would help them restrain themselves until the elevator started working once more. Suddenly, the man leaned forward, retching, vomiting bright red blood. Dave stepped back just in time for it to miss him, his eyes wide at the fact that things would only get considerably worse. He exchanged glances with the paramedic. "Oh, shit."

-------------------------------

But, then again, a day will come

When I want off that ride

-------------------------------

John stood at the elevator alcove, watching as the digital number indicating the floor it was on stood still at one. If it was at floor one, which was the floor he was standing on, why weren't the doors opening? Today was not his day, he could tell already and he wasn't even halfway through it yet.

"What's up with this thing?" he heard Abby ask from next to him. He glanced at her, shrugging. "I think Dave overloaded the damn thing when he jumped on. It's probably stuck."

"Dave's inside?" John asked, hoping that the twinge of panic he heard in his own voice was only audible to himself. He considered quickly ducking out, but considered that it would seem too suspicious, especially if his tone of voice *was* audibly irregular.

Abby glanced at him with raised eyebrows, nodding. A wry smile appeared on her face, and she indicated the closed doors. "He jumped on board after seeing some big-breasted paramedic. But something tells me it didn't matter that she was a paramedic. I think he was following the breasts."

John instinctively looked to the closed doors. Dave had rushed onto an elevator after seeing a pretty girl? Was he hoping to get her phone number? Or was he hoping to get something more from her? Despite the fact that John was the one who had wanted the two men to remain friends and nothing more, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of - what? Disappointment? Disappointed that he was that easy to get over? Disappointed that Dave, only days after their shared night together, could already be after another interest? Disappointed that he'd meant that little to Dave? But why would that matter if Dave didn't mean anything to him, which he certainly did not?

He felt Abby nudge him playfully in the ribs, and when he looked down at her, he could see her smiling widely. "Don't worry, John," she said, teasing him. "It probably didn't matter that she was breasted, either. I'm sure there's still a chance for you." John looked back to the closed doors, then turned away and started towards the stairs, quickly. "John...? John! What'd I say??"

-------------------------------

11am;

By now you would think that I would be up

But my bed sheets shade the heat of choices I've made

-------------------------------

"Doctors are human," Kerry was saying to an impatient Dr. Romano as she walked with him through the hospital. "We make mistakes too."

"Had Paul been diagnosed properly in the first place and gone straight to the OR instead of that delayed diagnosis that Dr. Malucci kindly supplied us with, he might still be alive, flipping burgers at McDonald's!" Dr. Romano said, reminding Kerry that the patient had died in surgery, and the family was wondering how that could've happened since the statistics had been in their favor.

"Marfan's is hard to detect," Kerry insisted, defending the junior resident, maybe because she felt as if it weren't his fault, or maybe to just disagree with Dr. Romano. "The residents have never heard of it."

"That is why Attendings exist," Dr. Romano said, quickening his pace as if to lose the Chief of the ED. "That is why positions such as *yours* exist."

"I can't be everywhere at once," she snapped, a very big mistake on her part, as Dr. Romano spun on his heel to stare her straight in the eye and shout: "Wrong answer! As we speak, the family is planning to take legal action against this hospital unless someone suffers a consequence for this screw-up, so come up with a better excuse than 'doctors are human,' or find yourself a good old-fashioned scapegoat!"

Dr. Weaver stopped in surprise, letting Dr. Romano walk up the stairs to the OR by himself, and at that second, the elevator doors *dinged* open, a crowd pouring out of the car, causing the Chief of the ED to glance inside suspiciously. On the floor of the elevator car lay a rather large man, a paramedic pumping the bag as Kerry heard Dr. David Malucci brag to the pretty girl, grinning: "Who's your daddy?"

It appeared that she wouldn't have to look much further.

-------------------------------

And what did I find?

I never thought I could want someone so much

'Cause now you're not here and I'm knee deep in that old fear

-------------------------------

"Can I get you a cane?" John heard the unmistakable voice of Luka ask, teasing him about the limp present due to the glass that was still stuck in his foot. Luka was one of the last people John wanted to see right now. First, the Chief Resident wanted to sort things through in his head - maybe figure out just what had happened between Luka and Dave, Dave and himself, and Luka and himself, specifically earlier in the empty exam room. *Then* maybe John would speak to Luka or Dave again. Until then, he'd just steer clear of the two men who he'd mistakenly thought he knew.

A thought came to John's mind, and he immediately spoke up as if it would make up for his lack of saying something earlier: "You know, women often find helplessness charming."

It didn't work.

"In puppies, maybe," Luka simply replied. Damn it, the Attending was quick. He'd immediately picked up on John's strategy, and now the Chief Resident was worried that Luka would be even *more* suspicious. What if he knew John had mentioned women just to deceive the older man? Of course he'd think that. He'd thought a night of beer between Dave and John had turned into something more - and it sure as hell had. Luka suddenly led John to a curtain area, sitting him on the bed. "Let me get that glass out of your foot. Do you want some lidocaine?"

"Just do it," John said, taking off his shoe as Luka took out a pair of tweezers from the supply cart nearby. John let out a painful "Ow!" when Luka finally tweaked the glass shard from his foot. He looked at Luka gratefully. "Thanks, Dr. Kovac."

"No problem," Luka said, standing, and John followed suit. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, and John rubbed the nape of his neck, turning his head slightly. He suddenly caught sight of Jing-Mei, who he saw escorting one of his patients to the ER bay doors. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah..." John replied, and quickly excused himself, heading towards Jing-Mei. He grabbed her arm gently, allowing her momentum to swing her around to face him. "That's my patient."

"No...she's my patient," Jing-Mei stated, tossing John an odd look. She held out the chart to him, and he glanced it over, his jaw setting as he read it over. "Something wrong?"

"Weaver took her from me!" he seethed, glancing at her with anger, though it wasn't anger towards her, but towards his Chief. "She gave her to you!"

"Maybe she thought you were overloaded," Jing-Mei offered, her expression compassionate. She'd noted that many cases had been handed off to John, because he was the Chief Resident and the residents were either being lazy or didn't now how to handle it. And, because of that, John had asked Dr. Weaver for help, but she had only offered him terse replies that he should be able to handle it.

"More like incompetent," he stated, remembering how he'd earlier asked her for some help, and she'd practically bitten his head off for doing so. He glanced up at Jing-Mei, then focused on someone behind her. "You know Jing- Mei, sometimes I regret going for the Chief Resident position," John spat.

"Why?" Jing-Mei asked, knowing she, herself, had been dying for the position.

"Because I have to deal with that little tyrant, and I don't mean Romano."

"I guess it is true what they say," Jing-Mei said, cryptically.

"What's that?"

"Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it."

John nodded in agreement and then spoke again. "Speak of the Devil Incarnate."

"Haleh, prep a trauma!" Dr. Weaver barked as she pulled on a trauma gown. "We've got a patient coming in! John, Jing-Mei: don't just stand there! Make yourselves useful!"

"Sure thing, Dr. Weaver," both John and Jing-Mei said as they pulled on gowns of their own and followed her towards the ambulance bay.

-------------------------------

Forgive my indecision...

I am only a man...

-------------------------------

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Chloe asked, though the smile on her face and glint of mischief in her eyes indicated that she didn't care.

Dave kissed her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before allowing his mouth to move up her jaw and to her ear. He gently nibbled at her earlobe before whispering into her ear: "It doesn't really matter, does it? We both want it, so who cares?"

Her only reply was touching his cheek with her hand to move it towards her, so she could encase those beautiful full lips with her own. He pushed his tongue through her closed lips, surprising her delightfully, and she allowed him to wrap his strong arms around her and move her, so she was on her back on the small seat of the rig and he was straddling her with his knees.

They both knew they didn't have that much time, so they didn't even undress fully before she was rolling a condom over his fully erect cock with delicate fingers. God, how much he needed this right now, it took all he had not to come by her touch. He just needed to let it all go and release the anger and tension he'd been feeling for the past weeks, and a little rough, spontaneous sex was just what the doctor ordered. And as he thrust himself into Chloe rather roughly, producing a gasp from her, Dave didn't realize that he wouldn't even get that.

-------------------------------

Then again, you're always first

When no one's on your side

-------------------------------

"Where the hell is my patient?" Kerry raged to Malik, who was outside waiting as well to assist the Chief of the ED in the incoming trauma.

"104 is bringing her in," he replied, and when she turned towards the ambulance that was parked nearby, he tossed John and Jing-Mei a glance as if to say: "What is *her* problem?" "Then who the hell's ambulance is this??"

Kerry charged towards the ambulance, yanking open rig's back door to see if there was anyone inside. And was there ever. Inside, fucking frantically, was the paramedic that Kerry had seen around the ER earlier, and Dr. Malucci. They turned, both giggling childishly from the fact that they'd been caught doing something so naughty, and Kerry slammed the door closed, disgusted.

"What's wrong, Dr. Weaver?" John asked as he approached her, after seeing her expression. She looked at him, pursed her lips, and then took on almost a satisfied expression as she turned back towards the ambulance, flinging open the back door again.

"Chief!" John heard the unmistakable voice of Dave say, urgency in his tone. John suddenly thought of the "breasted paramedic" that Abby had referred to earlier, and his eyes widened as he realized that Dave could only be doing one thing in the back of that ambulance. Steeling himself, he glanced inside, and his heart jumped into his throat as he saw his assumptions were correct.

"Dr. Malucci," Kerry said as evenly as possible, John's eye catching Dave's, and the younger man's erection dissipated as he realized what a mistake this had been. "I want you out of that girl and the ambulance, and into the Lounge. If you aren't there in ten seconds, then I will pack up your personal belongings from your locker myself. As for you," she said to the paramedic. "I want this rig out of here immediately."

She slammed the door closed before Dave could get in another word, then turned, pulling off her trauma gown. John stared at the closed doors of the rig, hardly believing what he'd just seen. Glancing at Jing-Mei, he could see an amused expression on her face, but it immediately faltered when she saw the concerned face on his.

"What's wrong, John?" she asked, studying his features.

"Nothing," he lied, shaking his head. The back door of the rig suddenly opened, and Dave stepped out, his appearance unkempt, unable to meet the eyes of any coworkers, especially John. He walked inside the ER quietly, avoiding John's gaze, who was desperately trying to make eye contact with the Junior Resident. "What do you think Weaver's going to do?"

"Suspend him," Jing-Mei stated with a shrug, not really caring either way.

But John didn't really care either. All he cared about was that he had meant that little to Dave. And now all he had to do was figure out two more things: Why he'd meant that little to the younger man, and why he even cared at all.

-------------------------------

But, then again, a day will come

When I want off that ride

-------------------------------

"Look, Chief," Dave said, trying to plead with the older woman, who was leaning against the lockers, her jaw set and eyes firing daggers at him. "I know you're pissed, but come on, let's be real about this. I didn't do anything wrong, you can't suspend me."

"You call what you just did in the ambulance bay *while you were on duty* right?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

"Well...no, but..." he started, searching his mind quickly for something, anything to keep himself from getting suspended. If he got suspended this time, he was almost sure next time he would be fired - and he knew there would be a next time, there was always another screw-up waiting to happen when he was involved, but his mind was racing from the drugs, and from the situation, which made him unable to come up with something witty, as usual. "Chief, I was on my break, and she was between calls. We were just having a little fun, that's all. Is there anything wrong with *that*?"

"Dr. Malucci, you'd better watch it," she snapped. "I could've fired you for what you just did. And do you know why? Because Dr. Romano is looking for a scapegoat for what happened last week, and you are the only person in sight. Consider yourself lucky, Malucci."

"Lucky?" he muttered, just loud enough to hear it. Dr. Weaver glanced at him in surprise. She was trying to help him, why was he still angry with her? It was as if he had no control over what he was saying or doing. "We both know that now you're just going to fire me next time. Because now you have an excuse."

"What exactly are you trying to imply here?" she asked, leaning heavily on her crutch. If Dave wanted to instigate something, than that was exactly what she was going to give him. She certainly wasn't in the mood for anyone's bullshit, especially a know-it-all Junior Resident like Dr. Malucci, and perhaps she should make him her scapegoat. Her life would certainly become easier if she did. Maybe she should give him enough rope to hang himself and be done with this whole situation, be done with him. For good.

"You don't like me," he replied, staring her straight in the eye, his eyes cold and wild. "You're only giving yourself an excuse to fire me next time because you don't like me. You know that I'm on thin ice with the residency review board. Two...two more suspensions and I'm gone, my career is over. And - and that's exactly what you want!"

"You're right," she hissed, approaching him. "I *don't* like you. You show no respect for me, your colleagues, this hospital. You like to think that you have this cowboy approach to medicine, but you don't have the goods to back it up. You make mistakes - mistakes that kill people!"

Dave took a step towards her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt terror run through her veins, and she was afraid of him. His muscles were tense and his eyes were filled with such a wild anger she was actually afraid that he was going to strike her. She shrank back against the lockers, as he stood flush to her. Her mind was racing, and her grip tightened around her cane. If she lifted it up and swung it at the side of his head, at his temple, she knew she could seriously hurt him - probably knock him unconscious. But she would only hit him if he touched her.

"I don't kill people!" he said, his face contorted with rage. He lifted his hand, but instead of swinging her cane, as Dr. Weaver had intended to do, she closed her eyes tightly, turning her face away from him, all out of pure instinct. And she waited. But when no blow came - but she could still feel his body heat near her - she opened her eyes to see that he was just simply pointing at her, though threateningly. And she saw that his expression of anger was gone, and all that was left was pure shock. Shock because Dr. Weaver had thought he was going to strike her...but also because he knew that he had been very close to doing so. "Jesus Christ," he breathed.

As suddenly as he had advanced on her, he retreated, and collapsed down onto the old leather couch heavily, his mind spinning. He placed his head in his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. Kerry could barely understand this. One minute, Dave was pleading with her; the next, he was irate; and now...now he was upset? What was going on here? When he spoke, she wasn't expecting what he said, though she wasn't sure what she *was* expecting. "I'm a good doctor...I don't like it when you say that I don't care...because I do...I do care. I didn't mean to hurt that patient. I...I thought that I was doing the right thing," he whispered.

"Dave," she finally said, giving up trying to understand this man. "Sign off your patients.

Call in a few days to see when you're working next. I'll see you in a week."

"Please don't do this to me," he pleaded quietly, looking up at her. Now she was sure there was something wrong with Dave...but what? "I learned my lesson, I won't screw up again."

"Dave, what is going on with you?" she asked concerned, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, feeling him flinch under her touch. But she didn't pull away. Something was wrong, and she was going to find out what it was.

"I...I don't want to lose my job," he said softly.

"You're not!" she said, trying to comfort him as best as she could. "It's just a suspension." She tried to joke with him, to lighten he mood, anything to cheer him up: "You should be used to them by now."

Dave looked up with her, with pure hurt in his eyes. How could she say something like that to him? He wasn't "used to them." God, how terrible of a doctor did she think he was! "You'll change your mind and fire me. I know you will," he said firmly, his mind obviously made up. "You just said that you don't like me - hell, I don't like me! Why would you?"

"Dave, people say lots of things when they're mad," she reminded him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go home, work through whatever it is that's going on with you. Don't worry about you're job, it'll be here when you come back in a few days."

She let out a silent sigh as she moved away from him, taking one final look at him before leaving the lounge. She was no longer mad, but very concerned for her young Resident. After her confrontation with him, she realized just how differently he'd been acting lately. Not enough to gain attention, but just enough for her to notice it right now. She would definitely have to speak with some of the staff about him, make some inquiries, and find out just what the hell was going on.

-------------------------------

12pm and my dusty telephone rings

Heavy head up from my pillow, who could it be?

-------------------------------

"They've been in there for a while now," Randi said as she glanced at Chuny, who was standing next to her. By now, most if not all of the ER had gotten wind of Dave getting caught with his pants down in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic he'd just met. "You think she killed him?"

"She could be getting rid of the body," Chuny mused. "She's probably having a hard time stuffing it in her locker."

Randi nodded, and at that moment, Dr. Weaver exited the Lounge, sending everyone in different directions so they didn't look like they'd just been gossiping. John glanced up from his chart as the Chief of the ED eradicated Dave's name from the patient board with one sweep of the eraser, replacing it with different doctors' names. She hadn't fired him, had she? Glancing towards the Lounge, John knew that Dave was still inside. Could he be cleaning out his locker at this very instant?

Unable to sit there any longer, John stood and crossed Admin, heading towards the Lounge. He pushed open the door softly, and saw Dave sitting on the couch, staring at his hands, which were in his lap. The younger man glanced up briefly after hearing someone enter, but then quickly looked away after seeing who it was. Soon, John found himself next to Dave on the couch, both seated in silence.

"Weaver suspended me," Dave said quietly, the first to break the silence.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," Dave said softly. He turned to look John in the eyes, the desperation in them so intense John almost had to look away. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, especially since you tried to help me out." He was referring to when he'd cursed at John in the trauma room, but that had been a week ago, why was he bringing it up now? Had it been bothering him all this time? The handsome young man suddenly looked away. "But I was angry, and sometimes when I get angry, I..." He couldn't continue without bursting into tears, so he ran a hand through his hair in an act of frustration, whispering: "I don't know...I thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted to save him."

Dave was jumping from topic to topic, making it hard for John to follow the conversation, so the Chief Resident said the first thing that came to mind: "Don't kill yourself over this." He immediately cringed at his choice of words. Dave had, apparently, thought this was an intended joke, and John was relieved when the younger man let out a small laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "Anyone could've made the same mistake, Dave."

Dave shrugged. "No. No, you knew what you were doing. But I...I killed that kid. I killed him because I think I know everything. But I don't. What was I thinking, that I could be a doctor? I make stupid mistakes all the time. Dr. Weaver's right. I have no business being a doctor. I'm dangerous."

"That's not true, Dave. You're a good doctor, you just need to learn to wait for all the information, that's all. You just have to learn to be patient."

"Well, there's nothing I can really do now, is there? I suppose I could quit. Quit before Weaver fires me," he said sadly. "She's going to next time, you know. Fire me. She's got an excuse now. Nazi dyke. She's...she's going to set me up. I should just save her the trouble and...and save all my potential patients from my miserable care."

"Dave..." John said, trying to calm him down, rationalize with him and console him at the same time. "Why don't you work on your technique as a doctor before you throw it all away?"

Dave looked up at John. "I do care, though," he suddenly said, and John's expression showed his concern and slight puzzlement. "I know no one around here thinks I do, but I do."

"I know you do," he replied, hardly able to keep up with Dave's train of logic. "But the question is: do you care enough to learn from your mistakes?"

"I don't know how..." Dave whispered. "I never seem to learn from my mistakes...I...I should just end it."

"End what?" John asked, alarmed. Was Dave feeling so low that he would actually consider hurting himself? John suddenly remembered the scars he'd seen on Dave's wrists. The younger man had tried it before, but John didn't know when or why, or how close he had come to death, or any of the specifics...but he did know now that Dave wasn't afraid to do it. Could he possibly try it again? And could he possibly succeed this time?

Dave seemed to catch on and quickly added, touching one of the scars on his wrist instinctively, "My career." But his words didn't seem to make John feel better, and the older man wasn't sure if he believed him, especially after noticing Dave touching one of his scars.

"Lucky for you, you are friends with the Chief Resident," John said, trying to pull the conversation back into a positive direction.

"Why is that?"

"I'm going to help you learn," John said with a shrug.

"Trust me," Dave said. "I'm not worth the effort."

"Let me decide that, okay?" John asked, his worry really taking hold. What was going on with the younger man lately? Was it his own fault that Dave was acting like this, or was it the younger man's? Dave shrugged, his gaze remaining on his hands. "So what have you learned today?"

"That I'm a terrible doctor," Dave said, bowing his head.

"No!" Carter exclaimed, startling Dave, who glanced at him. John shifted and knelt before Dave, crouching down before him. "You learned today that you can learn from your mistakes and you'll never what?"

"Make the same mistake twice," he replied, staring straight into John's brown eyes.

"From the way you handled that trauma after you realized your mistake," John said reassuringly, "it looks like you won't make that mistake again, Dave. I can see that, and I'm glad that you can learn from your mistakes. One less thing I have to teach you. Dave, you are a good doctor and a good person, I learned that, now *you* have to learn that."

"I think you're just about the only person that thinks I'm worth anything," the Junior Resident said, looking down once more.

"Well, *they'll* have to learn from their mistakes now, won't they?"

Dave glanced up at John, his eyes searching the Chief Resident's. But for what? Any hint that something could still be there? Something he'd seen a few nights ago, when the two had been so far lost in each other the world had vanished for those moments? Now Dave knew that neither of them wanted to speak of what had happened two nights ago, but he also didn't want this to hover over them like some sort of storm cloud. He didn't want the same thing to happen between them that had happened between him and Luka - this was at least one mistake he could learn from. "Listen, Carter...why don't we just...forget about what happened between us and...be friends. I liked being your friend, Carter. And...I need friends. A real friend. Sure, I have a lot of buddies, but no real friends."

John smiled as both men stood. "Okay." That was okay, they could be friends. "Sure, Dave. I liked being your friend too."

"Great," Dave said, smiling himself, although John noticed how sad the smile really was.

"You know..." John started. Should he ask? Maybe he shouldn't, maybe it was too soon. But Dave had said it himself, he liked being his friend, and they could do something together as friends. Dave looked up at him expectantly. "Since I got that Chief Residency position..."

"Yeah," Dave interrupted good-naturedly. He held out his hand to John. "I've been meaning to congratulate you on that."

"Thanks," John said, shaking Dave's hand. He immediately felt the heat of the junior resident's hand in his as they shook, and when he looked up he was almost startled to see Dave looking right into his eyes. John glanced at the small bruise that still surrounded Dave's eye and he was surprised to find that he had to fight back the urge to reach out and touch it and ask him if he was going to be all right. Stay on topic, he thought to himself. Then he noticed something about Dave's eyes...they didn't seem right, as if he was having a hard time focusing.

"What's wrong?" Dave asked, looking down at the ground, sensing that Carter noticed something.

"Nothing." Just ask him what you intended to ask him in the first place, John. "Uh...so, uh, my grandparents are throwing this party for me, and a lot of my family and their friends are going to be there. Uh, so, uh, do you, maybe, want to go?"

"I'd love to," Dave said, unable to help but smile. "When is it?"

"It's next Saturday," he replied, stuttering as if he were an idiot. But maybe it was because Dave and he were still holding each other's hand even though the handshake was far over. And for some reason, he wasn't trying to pull away. "It's going to be until about ten o'clock because my grandparents are going on a trip to the mountains right afterwards, and it's going to be an evening event, but you can come any time you want, earlier or later."

"That's great," he replied. He realized that John wasn't trying to pull his hand away, like Dave thought he was going to when he took the chance to keep the now Chief Resident's hand in his. Maybe - just maybe - there was still a chance for him. Maybe there was still a chance for *them*, if he hadn't ruined it by having sex with that paramedic. "I don't know whether or not I'll be back at work by then, so I don't know what time I'll be able to come. What kind of party is it? I mean, what should I wear?"

"Tux," John said, avoiding any eye contact with the junior resident. Dave didn't own a tuxedo, but he supposed he could go out and rent one by Saturday. It was, in fact, a little over a week away. "Uh...you can, uh...you can stay later if you'd like. We probably won't see each other much during the party so, you know, this way we can...we can share a few drinks or something..."

"Or something," Dave said with a smile, then realized what he'd just said and wiped that smile off of his face before John could see it. He pulled his hand away from John's as he moved to his locker, getting his things together. "I'll see you next Saturday then."

"Yeah," John replied, sitting down on the couch once more. "See you next Saturday."

John watched Dave place his stethoscope and ID badge on the shelf, and then pull his knapsack out of his locker. He tossed it over his shoulder, turned, and moved towards the exit. "This is the worst part, you know," Dave said.

"What is?"

"Walking out there when everyone knows that you fucked up...that you're a fuck up. Facing people."

"You're not a fuck up, Dave," John said softly.

The junior resident said nothing, but paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder but not at John. "She didn't mean anything you know."

"Who?" John asked, slightly puzzled.

"The paramedic," Dave said, looking into John's eyes. He turned back towards the door and left, leaving John alone in the Lounge. Staring ahead but at nothing, John realized that maybe he did mean something to Dave, more than he thought he hadn't, and more than he thought he *had*.

-------------------------------

I hope it's you...

It's you...

-------------------------------

"Mark!" the Chief of the ED called to the Attending, who was walking down the hallway of the ER. He stopped at the sound of his name, and turned to see her coming towards him rather quickly. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Sure," he said, as he placed his chart underneath his arm. She began walking with him towards wherever he was going, and he adjusted his pace to fit hers. "What's up?"

"It's about Dr. Malucci," she stated, glancing up at him. He looked down at her puzzlingly. "Have you noticed anything...off about him lately?"

"Off?" Mark asked, a smile coming to his face. "Malucci is always 'off'."

She grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking, a sense of urgency about her and in the expression she was giving him. "Mark, this is serious. Something is wrong with Dave. Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. He shrugged. "I'm not friends with him, you should ask the other residents. Ask Carter." Mark suddenly paused, looking away from Kerry briefly, before glancing back at her. "I heard that something happened between Malucci and Kovac, but I heard it from the Rumor Mill. Why don't you ask him? It's worth a try."

"What exactly did you hear?" she asked, looking up at him, wishing at this moment that she actually listened to the nurses' gossip for once.

Mark shrugged, looking down at her. "I don't know, Kerry. I just heard that something happened between them, but no one knows what. There's a pool running to see who kills the other first, though. Want to join? Randi's got it starting at ten bucks if you're interested."

"Is it really that bad?" she asked, shocked. Two of her doctors were in an argument, ready to explode at each other, and she had no idea about it? She briefly thought of her skills as Chief of the ED before seeing Mark shrug again. She sighed, and looked up at him once more, before leaving. "Just keep an eye on Dr. Malucci, okay? If you notice anything amiss, please tell me."

"I will," Mark promised, and watched Kerry as she walked away from him and down the hallway, her limp more prominent than it had been in years.

-------------------------------

Then again, you're always first

When no one's on your side

-------------------------------

John closed his eyes as he lay down inside the empty suture room, getting some shut-eye now that the ER was in a lull. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind as he attempted to go to sleep, but all he could do was think of Dave and his emotional state. He could hear faint voices coming from the next room, which was only separated from Sutures by an open door with a curtain in front of it, and as the voices became recognizable - Kerry and Luka - he opened his eyes and turned his ear towards the room, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Are you sure you haven't noticed anything wrong?" Kerry's voice, urgent but soft-spoken.

Now Luka's: "He and I aren't friends. I couldn't tell you. Why don't you ask Dr. Carter?"

Sitting up suddenly, John now looked at the open door. What were they talking about? And what did it have to do with him?

"I plan to," he heard Kerry say as his brow creased in concentration. It looks like he would find out what the issue was soon. "But you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Did anything happen between you and Dr. Malucci?"

A pause. A pause that seemed to last for several minutes, though it probably only lasted for a few seconds. Then: "No. I told you. He and I aren't friends."

John clenched his jaw at Luka's lie. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Luka and Dave *weren't* friends, at least they weren't any longer. But if Kerry thought something was wrong with Dave, shouldn't Luka at least offer some help? This could be serious, and Luka was just going to blatantly state that he and Dave weren't friends, never had been? What kind of person was he?

"John." He looked up to see Kerry standing in the doorway. He knew he'd been caught, but at this point, he was too worried to care. And he could see that same worry reflected in his superior's eyes. "I suppose you overheard?"

"Yeah, I did," he stated, nodding as she approached him, and he noticed her leaning heavily on her cane. "You think something's wrong with Dave. I do too."

"You do?" she asked, almost as if she was surprised she wasn't the only one who had noticed. "What do you think is going on with him? He's been acting very odd lately."

"I don't know," John replied honestly, shrugging. He looked up at the Chief of the ED, his eyes displaying his concern. "I talked to him after you left him in the Lounge. He was really upset, Kerry. What did you say to him?"

"We had a confrontation," she stated, sighing as she placed her hand to her forehead. "He might've taken what I said too seriously. But, John, I didn't say anything in there that I haven't said before. Nothing was new to him."

"I think that's the problem," John said, a little more harshly than he'd intended to.

"What do you mean?" was the quiet reply.

"Have you ever given the guy credit for anything?" John asked. "Have you ever congratulated him on a good save or a good pick up? Have you ever tried to encourage him?"

"I always encourage him," she said, but the words even sounded lame to her own ears.

"Dr. Weaver, we both know that isn't true." He let out a sigh of his own as she began to leave the room without another word. He stopped her though, having to say something but not exactly knowing what. "Look, Dave and I are friends. I'll try to find out what's going on, and if it's anything serious that I can't handle, I'll come to you."

"Thank you, John," she said, clearly relieved that she would have some help in this matter. Straightening her posture, she pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, and then glanced at her watch. "Your break is over, Dr. Carter."

Another sigh, this time at his horrible luck. Well, John thought as he stood up, stretching. Two things were clear: Dave and him would have to talk about this again, whether or not either of them wanted to, and something was terribly wrong with Dave.

-------------------------------

But, then again, then again, again, again

Then again, the guarantee has come

And I want off that ride

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Seven: Keeps Me Hanging On -------------------------------

This doubt is screaming in my face

In this familiar place...sheltered and concealed

And if this night won't let me rest

Don't let me second-guess...what I know to be real

-------------------------------

Dave stepped inside "Immediatux," a tuxedo rental store that allowed you to walk in empty-handed and leave with a tuxedo, and he felt immediately out of place. Here he was, in dark blue jeans and a scrub top, having his Saturday shift start in one hour - his first shift since his suspension - standing amongst the suits and tuxedos of a fancy store that he would've sworn a week ago he would never step foot into.

The place was empty of people, save the mannequins if you wanted to count them, so he pretended to know what he was doing and started wandering around, fingering a tuxedo nearby as if he did this all the time. He even felt self-conscious in front of the neatly dressed mannequins. Perhaps he should've worn something different and changed once he was at work. But it had been on the way to Cook County, this store being one that he passed by every day.

"Can I help you?" he heard from behind him. He turned to see a handsome man, probably a little younger than himself. Dave could tell the man thought he had no business being here.

He was right.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a tux," he answered. Dave flashed a sheepish smile. "As you can probably tell, I haven't done this since senior prom, so I'm gonna need quite a bit of help, and I hope you're up for the challenge."

The man smiled back, obviously taken by the doctor's charm. "I'll try my best. First, I'll take some measurements, and then we'll take things from there."

"Just have your wicked way with me," Dave said, following the clerk to the back of the store. They moved into a small private dressing room with three mirrors, each at a different angle, in front of a raised pedestal in the center of the room.

"Just stand up there," the clerk said, rummaging through a desk draw. Dave did as he was told, and the clerk returned with measuring tape. "Stand up straight."

Several moments later, Dave stood in front of the mirror in a tuxedo, looking pretty damn good if you asked him. He turned, checking out his backside, making sure everything looked just right. He needed to dress to impress, John Carter being the impressee tonight.

Dave turned to face Alex, the name of the clerk something he'd learned while making conversation. Alex's eyes suddenly darted away. He hadn't been checking Dave out, had he? Dave shook his head, silently chastising himself. Of course not, he thought to himself. Not everyone was gay.

"How does it look?" Dave asked, holding out his arms as if to say "ta da!"

"The tuxedo fits you perfectly," Alex stated, approaching Dave. "Whatever the occasion is, you are going to impress everyone."

Dave frowned slightly. He didn't like the way Alex had said "everyone."

"How much will this be?" Dave asked, changing the subject as he turned back towards the mirror.

"One hundred dollars," Alex reported.

"One hundred dollars??" Dave asked, surprised. He'd brought extra money with him today for this, but he didn't think he'd be using most of it. This was really going to put Dave in the hole until next paycheck. John was one high-maintenance guy; Dave could already tell that having a rich guy as a friend was going to be expensive.

"Tell you what," Alex said, stepping onto the pedestal with Dave, whose suspicions were growing by the moment. "I'll give you a discount if *you* give me your phone number."

Dave turned to face Alex, stuttering slightly as he tried to find the right words. "I'm sorta seeing someone."

Alex smiled, stepping even closer to Dave if that was even possible. "So am I, but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun on the side, does it?"

Dave suddenly felt Alex's hand on his ass, and the clerk even had the audacity to give it a pinch! He immediately grabbed Alex's wrist and yanked it away from his body, and then gave it a rough twist, holding it firmly in place. Dave looked up at the clerk; their faces were mere inches from each other. He could see the sweat forming over Alex's brow due to his apparent mistake.

Dave smiled, still twisting the young clerk's arm. "I'll take full price."

-------------------------------------

Put away all I know for tonight

And maybe I just might...learn to let it go

Take my security from me

And maybe finally...I won't have to know everything

-------------------------------------

John Carter sat alone on a wooden bench in the back yard of his home, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and cradling his chin in the other, slouched forward so that his elbows were on his knees. The party had started several hours ago, but only now had he been able to get away from it. And he thanked God for it. He didn't know how much more of this party he could take.

He knew it was just an excuse for his family to get together and throw a big party to impress everyone important, and several times he'd thought about ducking out and leaving. He probably could, knowing no one would notice his absence after a few more hours of martini's and champagne. But something kept him here. Every time he wanted to leave, he couldn't, because something was keeping him here.

And he knew exactly what - or who, rather - it was. But he didn't want to think about it because he knew it would cause him to think about other things, such as his sexuality, something he had been very comfortable with until about a week ago. Until the person that was keeping him at this party changed him forever.

John sat back on the bench, leaning his head back so he could look at the night sky. In this part of Chicago, he could see the many stars twinkling in the sky, and it almost gave the night a dreamy affect, almost made it surreal.

"Isn't this *your* party?" he heard his Gamma say from next to him, having joined him on the bench. He startled in surprise; he hadn't even heard her approach. "What are you doing all by yourself?"

"It's really my parents' party," he replied dryly with a wry smile. "I think we both know that."

"You could at least enjoy it," she said, placing her hand on top of his. "I know I am. All the champagne and catering, and finally I'm not the one running the show, so I can sit back and relax."

"You deserve it more than I do," John said, staring off into the dark woods that surrounded the estate.

"Nonsense," Gamma said, raising her hand from his to give it a swat. They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Gamma was the first to break it. "Something's bothering you, isn't it, John?"

If there was one thing John's grandmother was, it was perceptive. After living with her for so many years, she knew him like she knew the back of her hand. But John simply shook his head, as if he needn't bother her with his problems. Even so, she persisted.

"John, I'm your grandmother," she said. "You can share anything with me."

He only wished that were true. "Right now...I just need to think this through by myself. But I will need to talk to someone sooner or later, and I'll make sure I come right to you."

She gently patted his hand once more, smiling softly at her grandson. "That sounds like a good deal to me."

-------------------------------------

And I am falling into grace

To the unknown

To where you are

And...

-------------------------------------

"Would you stop it?" Randi snapped from the other side of the admin desk.

Dave looked up from the zillion-and-two charts piled in front of him. He damned Weaver for making him do a chart review two hours before his shift was over. But apparently that's what happened when there were practically no patients, save the ones that were already being taken care of, and you said you were bored. "What?"

"You're being annoying," she simply stated, as if that would explain it. He hadn't done anything, he'd just been sitting at the deserted admin desk doing charts. Lots of charts. He found himself damning Weaver again.

"How?" he asked, glancing at the clock quickly. One hour and forty-five minutes left until he left. One hour and forty-five minutes until he was clocking out and biking to the Carter family mansion. One hour and forty- five minutes and then some and he'd be at the Carter family mansion, where John was waiting for him. He tried to picture him, tried to picture him when he would get there. He'd be wearing a tux, his hair would probably be neat, and his face would be smooth with a fresh shave...so basically, the man would look like a god.

"By doing that," Randi stated blatantly. "Looking at the clock every two seconds and tapping your foot like you've got someplace to go."

He looked away from the clock and stopped tapping his foot. "Maybe I do have someplace to go."

"Yeah right," Randi scoffed, looking back to the magazine she had been flipping through while trying to figure out what color nail polish would look best with the outfit she was wearing tomorrow. "What, do you have another date or something?"

"Maybe," Dave replied with a smile, turning away from her as he began to do his chart review again. He rolled his chair back a bit and leaned over, throwing the chart he had been previously working on into his finished pile. Just a zillion-and-one more to go and he'd be finished, he'd be out of here and at the Carter family mansion. He seriously considered taking a cab, leaving his bike here, but then he knew it would most likely get stolen. And then he got an idea. "Abby!"

His former medical student looked up from the chart she had been looking over to make sure the doctor had signed the release form, and saw Dave smiling at her. She knew that smile. She knew it meant he was up to something. He stood and crossed the admin area, keeping that smile on his face.

"Abby, how are you?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder and leading her away from Randi's listening ears.

"I'm fine, Dave," she said, wary of his intentions of this conversation. "How are you?"

"Just fine," he replied, then they stood in a secluded part of the ER, away from any eavesdroppers. "Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Malucci," she immediately said.

"It's not that kind of favor, but I'm flattered that you were thinking of it," he said with a sly smile.

"What kind of favor?"

"A small one," he replied holding his index finger and thumb about an inch away from each other to indicate just how small.

"I thought I just said that I wasn't sleeping with you."

"Ha, ha," Dave said, smiling sarcastically. "Do you have a car?"

She narrowed her eyes. "For what reason do you need it?"

"Well..." Upon his hesitant reply, she started walking away. It was for something illegal, she knew it had to be for something illegal. He followed her, close behind. "Wait! Abby! Carter's family threw a party to congratulate him on the Chief Resident thing, and he asked me to go because he wanted a friend there 'cause he doesn't really dig these family get- togethers..." He sighed, realizing he was rambling and getting nowhere. "So it's a pretty long bike ride there, and I was just wondering if I could hitch my bike to the back of your car and you could drop me off, that's all. Nothing illegal, I swear."

She looked skeptical. "I don't think your bike could hitch onto the back of my car. It's not that kind of car."

"I'm sure we could fit it in the trunk," he said, wrapping his arm around her once more, that charming smile returning, lighting up the whole room. "Then we could just use some string to tie the trunk down so it won't fly up when you drive. Nothing wrong with a friend giving a friend a ride to another friend's house, right?"

"What's in it for me?" she asked, still unsure about the idea.

"Anything," he replied desperately. God, this Abby was a quick one. He was hoping she wouldn't ask for anything in return, but everything had its price. He'd trained her well. "Whenever you need a favor, just ask. Doesn't matter what it is."

"Really?" Abby asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Then you've got yourself a deal," she said, holding out her hand. He shook it, sealing his fate, already regretting what he'd just said.

-------------------------------------

Faith makes everybody scared

It's the unknown, the don't know

That keeps me hanging on and on and on to you

-------------------------------------

Dave exited the bathroom stall, checking his watch as he approached the sink counters of the public bathroom of the hospital. Good, it was only fifteen minutes past six o'clock, though he wasn't sure why that mattered because he didn't need to be there at a certain time. He supposed it was because more time spent here meant less time spent with John.

Glancing into the mirror, he quickly looked himself over, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the long locks. He found himself contemplating over whether he should cut it or leave it in this style, but left that idea at the back of his mind, knowing he might as well not bother thinking about it now because he could do nothing about it at this moment. Standing back, he straightened out his tie and then smoothed out his shirt and jacket, and then looked himself over. And he smiled. He looked good. Damn good.

But what would John think? Did he look good enough for *John* to think he looked good? Would John even give him a second glance? Or would he turn his attention to all those rich bachelorettes at the party? John wasn't that shallow, was he? Fuck...why did everything have to be so complicated?

Leaning his hands against the sink counter, he lowered his head and let out a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. He looked up at himself from under his brow and licked his lips, then bit his lower one. Sticking his hand into his pocket because he was too smart to leave them off of him, where they could be easily found, Dave pulled out the amphetamines that he still had left from when that kid had come into the ER. They would give him a pick-me-up and settle his nerves... But were they worth it? Dave asked himself.

"Malucci!" he suddenly heard, followed by a pounding. He jumped instinctively, quickly closing his fist around the pills and putting them back inside of his pocket. Without warning, the door burst open, and Abby stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "Are we leaving tonight or tomorrow? I'm still on my shift, you know, and I don't want to get into trouble for leaving to give you a ride."

"In a minute!" he snapped, closing the bathroom door on her. What, was she on the rag or something? *God*. Letting out another deep breath, this one now a sigh, he checked himself over one more time in the mirror before exiting the restroom to see Abby standing there, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Okay."

Rolling her eyes, Abby walked out of the ER bay doors with Dave by her side, some of the mouthy nurses such as Chuny and Haleh whistling and catcalling good-humoredly at the doctor in the tuxedo. Dave smiled to himself, waving over his shoulder at them, and soon they were in Abby's sedan, waiting for it to warm up before they headed off.

"You know, Dave," Abby said as she turned in her seat to look out her back window to back out of her parking space. He turned to her, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "You really clean up pretty good."

-------------------------------------

Got nothing left to defend

No I cannot pretend...that everything makes sense

But does it really matter now?

If I do not know how...to figure this thing out

-------------------------------------

"Oh my God," Dave said as they drove up the Carter family's estate in Abby's car. He couldn't see all of it in the darkness, but he knew it had to be even bigger than what was in plain sight. "Jesus, I knew Carter was rich, but..."

"I suddenly feel uncomfortable in my sedan," Abby muttered. The mansion had about three floors, and Dave knew there had to be an attic and a basement. He was suddenly embarrassed that John had seen his quite rundown apartment. Compared to this estate, Dave's place had to look like a roach motel. "Where's the front door anyway?"

"I don't know, I've never been here before," Dave replied, still looking at the awesome house in front of him. He couldn't wait to get inside and see the place; there had to be lots of rooms with all kinds of fancy things inside. Most of all, he couldn't wait to get inside to see John. "I guess I could just pick one..."

"Everyone's over there," Abby said, pointing to indicate two large doors that were exposed by a porch light. There were several people near the doors, some leaving and some just arriving. "I guess that's where he wants you."

Dave was hardly able to compress his smile at Abby's choice of words. That's where he wants you. He thought of all the places that they must be able to do it in that house. A living room, a sitting room, a den, the kitchen...bedrooms, there had to be as many bedrooms in there as there were in that chart review he was told to do today. He could feel a pressure growing in his pants and leaned forward quickly.

"Dave, what are you doing?" Abby asked as she parked the car near where the rest of the hordes of cars were parked. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you getting sick?"

"No, I'm just..." - he thought up an excuse quickly - "I'm tying my shoe."

"Oh," she said, relieved that he wasn't sick. She didn't need him throwing up in her car. "You can get out here, I guess."

"Thanks for the ride, Abby," Dave said gratefully. Without her it probably would've taken him a million years to get here. At least it would've felt like a million years. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," she said. She stuck a thumb over her shoulder. "Don't forget your bike."

Dave suddenly felt embarrassed that he even had brought it here. Surely, the Carter family would think he was some sort of cheap, lower class loser, bringing a bicycle to a big fancy party like this. Come on, the house had to be worth more than everything he'd ever bought in his whole life put together! Abby glanced at him when he didn't leave the car, raising her eyebrows. She knew when Dave was thinking, and she usually didn't like the outcome.

"Abby, can you do me another favor?"

"Absolutely not," she replied, shaking her head. She looked at him. He was giving her that pouty look that she hated because she knew she couldn't resist it. She quickly looked away from him. "Stop it. Don't give me that look. Just take your bike and get out."

"Please?" he asked, and when she glanced back at him again she could see that he was now pushing out his bottom lip and looking at her with hope in his eyes.

She let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. "What is it this time?"

"Can you just, kinda, sorta...keep my bike for me for a day or two?" he asked. She immediately started protesting, but he promptly cut her off. "Abby, what kind of guy would I look like bringing a bike to this kind of party? Honestly! You can't expect me to lug that thing inside and park it in the living room, do you??"

She thought that over. It did make sense. "Fine. But now you owe me twice! Don't think I'm letting you off that easy."

"Thank you, Abby. You're my savior," Dave said, grinning his most winning smile. He hopped out of the car and closed the door, then walked up the path provided to the front door. He stepped inside and was immediately awestruck. Never before had he seen anything this fancy and elegant. High ceilings, plush carpets, expensive furniture - his utmost fantasies were all located in this house, he knew that right now and hadn't even seen the whole place. Now all he had to do was find John amongst tons of people in this huge house.

"Excuse me, but you look lost," Dave heard. He turned to see an older woman with dark hair, wearing a black party dress and diamonds. She immediately struck him as significant, but he wasn't sure why; she just had an air of importance surrounding her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," he replied, smiling warmly. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dr. Dave Malucci, a friend of John's."

"I'm Mrs. Carter, his mother," Eleanor Carter replied, but didn't make a move to even shake hands with Dave. Dave wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands now, so he stuck them into the pockets of his slacks. He could feel the pills still in there, but was determined not to take them now. He'd only take them if he needed to. Needed to? *Needed* to?? God, Malucci, he thought to himself. What are you thinking?? Needed to...

"Could you, perhaps, tell me where I could find him?" he asked, his warm smile turning to a strained one.

"He's in the gardens," she simply replied, her eyes traveling the length of Dave's body. He could clearly see the distaste in them, as if it were incredulous that John would invite one of his friends to a party - especially a friend like *him*. Mrs. Carter indicated to her right. "Just go through the kitchen and out the backdoor."

"Thanks," Dave said, but he only received a twitch at the corner of her mouth that he assumed to be a smile, though it could've been nothing more than just that: a twitch. She walked away from him, her stride steady and her chin held high. He followed her with his eyes, and once he felt it was safe to move, he quickly headed for the backyard.

-------------------------------------

And I am falling into grace

To the unknown

To where you are

And...

-------------------------------------

John was staring up at the stars again, Gamma having left him to return to the party and mingle. He could see several stars, but couldn't make out any constellations. They were probably on the other side of the house, but even if he went to look he doubt he'd see anything. He was never any good at astronomy. His brother probably would've known; hell, he probably would've been able to name every star. Bobby had always had a knack for this kinda stuff.

Sometimes John wished that Bobby hadn't died of leukemia, and that he was still here to help his little brother out, especially when he was facing the problems around him - and within him - alone. John wondered what sort of advice Bobby would be giving him right now, if he had chosen to speak with him about what had happened just a week ago between himself and Dave Malucci. Bobby was always good with advice, and John liked to think that his older brother would've given him some sort of guidance, help him out with what to do. God, he missed his brother.

But even so, there were other times when John would scorn his brother, hating him for dying and creating their current mess of a family. John's mother had lived in a bubble since Bobby's death, sometimes pretending it never happened and other times thinking it was her fault. And now his father was being dragged down with her. John made a mental note to speak to his father about this soon, while the man was in town.

"Is this seat taken?" he suddenly heard from next to him. John startled for the second time tonight, turning his head sharply to see Dave Malucci standing next to him, a bright smile on the Resident's face. John shook his head, then watched the younger man sit down next to him - close, but not too close. John found himself looking over Dave - but not checking him out, John was *not* checking him out - and finding that the younger man cleaned up well. He looked absolutely beautiful - beautiful? No, John didn't think that males were beautiful...Dave just looked good... Good? He looked okay, Dave looked *okay* in the tuxedo.

Dave put on a knowing smile, and then, placing an elbow on the top of the bench, turned slightly to look at the party going on quite a distance behind them. "I'm not sure, but isn't this *your* party?"

"Yes," John said, finding a smile on his face as well. John glanced at the party behind them briefly before turning back to Dave. "I don't really like these things."

"Come on," Dave said, turning away from the party to face the woods. "What's not to like? Champagne and food, music..."

"Yeah, but you haven't lived with this your whole life," John reminded him sourly, having been sick of this whole scene a long time ago.

"No, I haven't," Dave said with raised eyebrows, a no-shit-Sherlock grin on his face. His grin turned into smug one. "If I *had*, then I'd be the one sitting here in a tux that I owned."

John couldn't help but break into a smile. "How did that go?" he asked, meaning when Dave had gone down to the tuxedo rental store.

"It was...interesting," Dave said, nodding slightly, glancing at John in his peripheral vision. John watched Dave as the Junior Resident looked up at the night sky, his eyes dancing from star to star. They stopped, focusing on a certain star, and then traveled to a particular part of the sky. "There's the Little Dipper."

"Where?" John asked, and Dave raised his arm to point to a cluster of stars. John leaned forward, squinting slightly, but his eyes only saw a bunch of stars, not a constellation. "I don't see it."

"It's right there," Dave said, leaning towards John as he continued to point to it, as if to get the view from John's vantage point so the Chief Resident could find it better. John nodded as he saw it, then looked at Dave just as the younger man looked at him, and only then did he realize just how close they were to each other at that specific time. Dave's eyes searched John's, almost the same way they had searched the sky. But at least when they were searching they sky, John knew what they were looking for...so what were they looking for now? Before he could find out, John quickly leaned back in his seat, daring a sideways glance at Dave, but only saw him look back up to the stars.

John looked to the stars as well, then back to Dave, who was still intently watching the sky. He felt like he had to say something, anything, to bring them out of this silence before it became uncomfortable. "I never thought of you as the kind of guy interested in astronomy."

"There's a lot you don't now about me, Carter," Dave simply stated, throwing them back into silence once more. Damn it. John hoped he hadn't offended Dave. But before he could apologize, or even ask if he had, Dave looked away from the stars and to John, then smiled briefly, as if to brush it off. "You're pretty alone out here."

"Yeah," John replied, nodding.

"I couldn't find you before," Dave said, looking back at John. "I had to ask several people where you were, including Mom."

"You met my mother," John said, raising his eyebrows.

Dave's smile returned. "She was..." - he searched for the right word - "interesting too."

-------------------------------

Faith makes everybody scared

It's the unknown, the don't know

That keeps me hanging on and on and on to you

-------------------------------

"I don't mean to be intrusive..." They both turned to see John's grandmother standing behind them, indicating the mansion. "But the dining ceremonies are about to begin."

" 'Dining ceremonies?' " Dave asked, turning away from John's grandmother to glance at him, snickering.

"Thanks, Gamma," John said, ignoring Dave's comment but shooting him a glare. He hoped Dave didn't joke about anything else, especially things he wanted to keep quiet. He stood, and Dave stood as well, smoothing out his tuxedo and pulling on it, hardly used to wearing anything of that sort. "We'll be right there."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" she asked, looking from John to his companion, who immediately smiled at her. She'd never seen this handsome young man before, and it was nice that John was bringing his friends to the mansion, but she couldn't help but notice something off about John's mood with him present. His demeanor showed his slight nervousness and something else, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. But she did know that whatever was going on with John, it had something to do with this man.

"Oh, right," John said hastily. He indicated Dave. "This is Dr. Malucci, I work with him at the hospital." Now, he indicated Gamma. "This is my grandmother."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Malucci," she said, extending her hand to shake his as he smiled warmly at her. He seemed like a nice young man, and she wondered what could possibly be going on between the two. Perhaps they were good friends and had gotten into a fight over a patient at work, and now him coming here was awkward.

"Nice to meet you too. Please call me, Dave," Dave replied, keeping his smile. Unlike John's mother, Dave could see no contempt and general hatred towards the world in her eyes, and he knew right away that he liked her.

"We'd better be going," John said, his rush displaying in his actions as he led them towards the house. They crossed the gardens to the mansion's patio entrance, and stepped inside the house, but John quickly grabbed Dave's arm before the younger man could move any further. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"Don't worry. I'll behave," Dave replied, smiling. He looked away from John, waving to a woman he'd bumped into while looking for John. "I'll just go mingle with the senator's daughter."

One frustrated sigh later, John was sitting with his family in the large dining hall, trying to keep himself occupied by creating a sugar cube pyramid. He couldn't help but think of what Dave had said. The senator's daughter? Okay, so he knew that Dave was attracted to both men and women, but just hearing a comment like that somehow upset John, but he wasn't sure in what way or why. It wasn't like they were in a relationship, or anything like that. For God's sake, John thought to himself. You're straight!

Hours later, the dinner was over and the guests were thinning out, as it was getting rather late and his grandparents would be leaving soon on their annual fall trip to the mountains. John was standing in the dining room, shaking people's hands and giving the wives kisses on the cheek, realizing that he didn't even know most of these people. He craned his neck to see over the crowd, searching for Dave, wondering where on Earth the man could've gone off to. John had spotted him once during the dinner - sitting next to the senator's daughter, who, from what it looked like, had taken a liking to the charming young man - but after that, he hadn't seen the man again.

Excusing himself from the crowd, John stepped out of the dining hall and into the corridor, glancing to his left and right before hearing voices coming from the den. Maybe Dave had decided to explore the house and was in there. Moving down the hallway, John stopped before the den and pushed open the door, only to find his father sitting inside, watching the stock market calculations on television. Before he could be seen, John quickly tried to duck out.

"John?" Too late.

"I was looking for one of my friends," he said, leaning against the doorway.

"Which one?" Jack Carter asked, putting the television on mute and turning towards his son.

"Dr. Malucci," John replied, and then when he saw his father's brow creased in thought: "I don't think you met him. I asked him to attend the party. I work with him."

"Oh," his father said, nodding. Jack stood, stretching out his tall figure while glancing at the television's figures once more before shutting it off. He turned towards his son, staring down at him. "Well, I'd better be going. Your mother is probably ready to go."

"Go?" John asked. "You aren't going to stay with us?"

"No, no," Jack replied, shaking his head. "Your mother wants to stay at a hotel."

"Do you have to do everything Mom wants?" John suddenly asked, causing his father to shoot him a slightly angered look. John sighed, looking away before looking back up at his father. "Look, Dad, we both know Bobby isn't coming back. Mom can live in her bubble, but that doesn't mean you do too."

Father stared at son for a few moments, the latter's searching the former's. John thought he'd finally gotten through to his father. Bobby wasn't coming back, no matter how much his mother Eleanor tried to ignore the fact that he'd died and everything wasn't as it used to be. And Jack had been dragged into that all these years, dragged into a surreal happiness that only existed in Eleanor's mind

But, suddenly, Jack grabbed his jacket off of the couch and threw it over his shoulder, patting his son on the shoulder before brushing past him to leave the room. "I'll see you in a few days, John. We'll stop by before we leave for England."

"Right," John replied as he clenched his jaw, unable to make eye contact with his father. Then he muttered bitterly under his breath: "Maybe Bobby will stop by too."

"What?" Jack asked, before leaving.

"Nothing, Dad," John said, shaking his head. "Absolutely nothing."

-------------------------------------

I'm against myself again

Trying to fit these pieces in

Walking on a cloud of dust to get to you

-------------------------------------

"This has to be the best martini I've ever tasted," Dave commented as he held up his glass to Corrine, the maid of the Carter family mansion, in a toasting manner before bringing it to his lips. Dave had long ago abandoned the party to explore the house when John had left him to eat with his family during the dinner, and wandering into the kitchen, the Junior Resident had found the maid drinking martinis by herself, eating a small plate of food, obviously feeling as if she didn't belong at the party either. Feeling the same way, Dave had decided to join her. He smiled at his companion. "You sure know how to make 'em good."

"Thank you," she replied, before taking a drink from her own glass. She placed it back down on the table they were sitting at, then stood to cross the room to the refrigerator. She turned back to Dave, a smile on her lips, and he could tell she was a little tipsy from the alcohol. "You should try these leftovers from a few days ago. I made chicken cutlets, John's favorite, and - if I do say so myself - it was the best yet!"

Dave smiled. "Bring it on."

Within minutes, they were eating chicken cutlets and drinking martinis, conversing about a childhood encounter of John's. Corrine was slapping her knee in fits of laughter as she retold the story. "You should've seen his face when he realized his mother was standing right behind him! The poor boy, Bobby had set him up!"

"Bobby's his brother?" Dave asked through a smile and a mouthful chicken. Corrine nodded as she placed her hand to her heart, trying to calm herself down. "Where is he now?"

Her expression suddenly turned solemn, and she let out a sigh as she briefly looked away before looking back up to Dave. "He died when they were just boys. He had leukemia. His mother took it the worst; to this day she still isn't the same." Corrine paused, looking away once more as tears sprung to her eyes. Dave held out a napkin to her, and she took it gratefully as she blew her nose with it. "Thank you. You know, the whole family died when Bobby did."

Dave opened his mouth to express some sort of condolence when they heard John's voice wafting through the hallway. "Corrine?" they heard him call as he entered the room. "Have you seen...?" He paused in his step as he saw the younger man sitting with his maid, drinking martinis and eating his favorite dinner. "Dave. What are you doing in here?"

"I got lonely all by myself at your party so I came in here to find Corrine feeling the same way," he replied as he indicated his companion, smiling broadly, with hint of mischief in his eyes. John approached the table, his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "I don't know what kind of party you're having out there, but in here..." He broke off as he tapped the table with one finger, raising the martini to his lips as he took another drink.

"Actually, the party's over," John said, and Dave turned to glance at the clock behind him, noting how late it had gotten. John turned towards his maid and Dave's new friend. "They need you out there to go clean up, and then you can head on home. The staff's getting the weekend off."

"Are you sure?" Corrine asked as she stood, smoothing her uniform out. John nodded, and smiled sheepishly as the older woman began to straighten out his bowtie. "You can make it by yourself?"

"Yes, Corrine," he replied, brushing away her hands. "I used to live by myself, remember?"

"Only for a year or two," she replied. She began to clean up when Dave started picking up the dishes himself. "Nonsense! I'm still the maid for now, leave it be!"

"Don't worry about it," Dave said, waving her off as he continued to collect dishes. "You've got the rest of the house to do, I can do this. I helped make the mess, at least let me clean it up."

"Alright, fine," she said, raising her hands up in the air in mock- surrender. She then winked at Dave, saying: "Now if only John could find a woman like you. You don't happen to have a sister, do you?"

"Sorry, Corrine," Dave said, compressing his smile, "but I'm an only child."

"What a pity," Corrine said sadly, before straightening out Dave's tuxedo. "The world could use more people like you. Well, I guess if John can't marry your sister, then you're next in line, aren't you?"

Oh, dear God! John's hand flew to his forehead as he closed his eyes, pure horror written all over his face. If that wasn't the most embarrassing thing Corrine could suggest, he didn't know what was. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he blushed deeply, and he quickly turned away from the two, busying himself with the dishes.

Dave glanced at John, then whispered theatrically to the maid, amusement in both of their eyes. "I think we're embarrassing him."

Suddenly, a dish dropped to the floor, shattering. John glanced up, his face still red with humiliation. "Sorry," he said, a self-conscious smile on his face.

"I better be going now," Corrine said. She moved to John and kissed his cheek, and then crossed the room to leave. But not before giving Dave a kiss on his own cheek. The Junior Resident smiled broadly. "It was so nice meeting you, Dave, you are such a nice young man. John, I'll see you on Monday morning then." She quickly left the room, but suddenly popped back in briefly, indicating the shards of the dish on the floor. "Oh, and the broom is in the closet. Goodnight, boys!"

"'Night, Corrine!" Dave called to the older woman. He suddenly heard John let out a string of obscenities, and when he turned he could see the Chief Resident cradling a bloody hand as he knelt before the dishes. Dave approached him, his hands tucked leisurely into his slacks' pockets. "I think that's why Corrine told you where the broom was, Carter."

"You think?" John spat as he stood. He immediately glanced apologetically at Dave for snapping at him, but the younger man seemed unaffected by it, and was instead turning on the sink.

"Hold it under the water for a bit and then let me look at it," Dave instructed, and John did as he was told, allowing the water to rinse away the blood before Dave took John's hand in his and inspected what damage the older man had done.

"Do you think I need sutures?" John asked as he watched Dave examine his hand, the Junior Resident's brow creased in concentration as his eyes moved over the laceration on his palm.

"No, just a Band-Aid," Dave said, shaking his head. He looked up at his companion with a small smile, and only then did John realize just how close they were standing to each other. John immediately pulled his hand out of Dave's and took a few steps back, and he couldn't help but notice how crushed the resident looked right now. Dave turned away from John, picking up a dishtowel and tossing it to him. "Here. Put pressure on it to stop the bleeding."

"Good thing you're a doctor," John said, smiling. Wait a second. Am I flirting? John asked himself silently. He quickly put more distance between them, but this time more subtly than he had before by sitting down on the stool Dave had occupied moments earlier. "Thanks."

"No problem," Dave said, shrugging. The younger man crossed the room to the table, where John was sitting. "That's my seat, you know."

"Is it?" John asked, looking up at him. Dave nodded. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Take it," he replied, but made no move towards him.

"When?" John asked, after seeing that the younger man wasn't coming towards him.

"Right now."

"Well, I don't see you doing anything."

Dave approached John, but stood to his side, leaning his elbows on the countertop. He looked up at John, brown eyes meeting brown. "John, what are we doing?" he asked, and the older man immediately realized that Dave had called him by his first name, and not his last. "We both know how stupid this is. Why can't you just admit that you're attracted to me?"

"You say that with such conviction," John said, looking down at the countertop.

Dave leaned forward and forced John to make eye contact with him, unwilling to let John avoid the topic any longer. Then he whispered quietly, "That's because I know it's true."

John suddenly stood, moving quickly from the room. "You can have your seat back."

"I don't want it," Dave said, going after him.

"Then what do you want?" John asked, still walking from the room.

"This!" Dave exclaimed, grabbing John's arm and allowing the older man's own momentum to swing him around to face him, and Dave took that opportunity to kiss John full on the lips, taking each side of the Chief Resident's face in his hands. The older man placed an open palm on Dave's chest and pushed him back, separating them, and Dave let out a frustrated sigh, looking at John with desperation. "Why won't you let this happen?"

"Stop it, Dave."

"No," Dave simply replied.

"Yes."

"No!" Dave said, shaking his head, grabbing the front of John's shirt and pulling John towards him, pulling him into another kiss. At first, the older man fought the kiss, trying to get out of Dave's grasp, but soon, the older man was giving in to it, even kissing him back. Then, suddenly, John pulled away, and Dave looked at him in distress. "What is it now?"

"One of the servants might see us," John said. The last thing he needed was for one of his nosy maids to see them and report this to his parents, making him the Carter family embarrassment in their eyes.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Dave asked, beginning to become impatient. He swore if one more thing interrupted what he wanted to do he would scream. Meanwhile, John looked at Dave, his mouth open as if to say something, but he couldn't get the words out. Was he really ready for this? Was he really ready to let another man take his body in the way he'd only let a woman do previously? "John? Do you want to go back to my place or something?"

"No, Dave," he quickly replied, breaking from his thoughts. He wasn't going to delay this any further. He was going to find out if he was ready for this. And he was going to find out right now. "Let's go to my bedroom."

-------------------------------

And I am falling into grace

To the unknown

To where you are

And...

-------------------------------

John Carter closed his bedroom door quietly behind him, but not before checking to make sure no one was out in the hallway. His grandmother and grandfather had gone out on their trip to the mountains, his parents had insisted on staying at a hotel, and the servants had the weekend off, but one could never tell if someone had decided to come back because they'd forgotten something, or - in the case of the servants - stay because they wanted to sleep in. Turning towards his companion, John was surprised as he felt Dave suddenly wrap his arms around him, and then proceed to kiss him senseless.

John opened his mouth, allowing Dave's tongue to join his own, and sucked on it gently, giving him an idea of what his mouth could do. Sure, John had never given a male oral sex, but it didn't mean he couldn't try. He felt Dave chuckle into the kiss, knowing what John was hinting at, and then pulled his tongue back into his mouth, John's immediately following it. He felt Dave gently bite down on his tongue, sending a chill up and down his spine. God, at this point, John believed that this guy could do anything, and with assured confidence and no hesitation, that was for sure - one of the things that John had always liked about Dave.

They moved back and turned, their bodies pressed against each other, both men feeling the pressure in the other's pants. John felt the back of his legs hit the tall bed, and let himself sit down on it, pulling Dave on top of him so that the younger man was straddling him between his legs as they continued their make-out session.

Unexpectedly, John felt Dave slowly rocking his hips against him. It was somehow erotic, probably because it was something John had never done to a woman when they still had their clothes on, and it made John even harder than he was now. John had a feeling that a lot of unexpected things would be happening tonight, and he had a feeling that he'd like those things too.

He felt rather than saw Dave shrug off his tuxedo jacket because his eyes were closed, and then he hastily removed his own, throwing it to the side and allowing it to land wherever it wanted to. Dave then, apparently, took it upon himself to take off John's shirt. He felt Dave unbuttoning each button slowly, whether to tease John or just because he sucked at unbuttoning, who knew, but John was so horny he wanted this done faster, so he began helping him, starting from the bottom buttons. Once his shirt was undone, Dave pushed it off of his shoulders with experienced hands, and pushed it off of the bed, where his own shirt soon joined it. They still hadn't parted lips, and it would be a feat to remove their undershirts around their kiss, so John broke away suddenly, pulling his undershirt over his head with one fluent movement. Dave soon did the same, revealing a tanned, well-toned chest, just as hairless as his companion's.

Glancing up at Dave's face, he could see the younger man licking his swollen lips in anticipation, a naughty smile coming to his face. John felt a smile come to his own face as Dave placed both of his hands on John's shoulders, and then pushed him backwards so that he fell onto the bed. Dave then lay on top of him, kissing his neck and even nipping it playfully before traveling back to John's mouth, where his lips were once more ravaged by the younger man's. He heard Dave kick off his shoes, and then promptly did the same with his own, awkwardly reaching out blindly to remove his socks just as Dave did the same.

Once that was out of the way, Dave sat back and began to unbuckle John's belt, unbuttoning his pants and then pulling down his fly to reveal black silk boxers and a definite tent in the fabric that could only be made from one organ and one organ alone. When he saw Dave smile widely, John suddenly reached out and took Dave's wrists in his hands, stopping the man from going any further.

"Dave," he breathed, his respiration fast and coming in quick bursts during the heat of the moment. Dave looked down into John's brown eyes, seeing the concern in them. "You know I've never done this before...what are you expecting?"

"Nothing," Dave replied softly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on John's mouth. "I'm expecting nothing from you, John. Same rules as a few weeks ago: we don't do anything you don't want to. Just say the word, and we'll stop."

"Are you sure?" John asked, but all he got in reply was another kiss, this one hard and passionate, driving John crazy. He momentarily thought how much Dave must be experienced at this, and was somehow reassured that at least he was going to do this with someone who knew what they were doing. John broke away from the kiss, breathing hard into Dave's ear. "I want you to fuck me, Dave. God, just do it."

Dave only smiled a genuine smile that hadn't made an appearance in weeks - and, God, what a beautiful smile it was - as he leaned back once more, and stood briefly to remove his own pants before throwing them to the floor with the other clothes. Then, he bent over the bed to pull John's pants down, tossing them behind him carelessly. Finally, all that was left was John's boxers. Dave smiled that naughty smile again as he hooked his fingers around the elastic band of the boxers and pulled them down and off of his body, revealing John in all of his glory. His eyes traveled over the length of the older man's body in appreciation as his smile faded slowly, hovering over his semi-erect cock a little longer then the other body parts. Finally, Dave's eyes traveled back up to John's as he regained his smile, and then he bent over to slide his own boxers down to the floor, kicking them off to mingle with the other garments.

John now allowed his own eyes to travel over the younger man's. From his broad shoulders to his well-toned chest and down to the soft hairs below his waist and those strong legs from years of bicycling to and from work and wherever else it was that he went, David Malucci's tanned body was almost perfect. The only flaws he had were a few prominent scars that John knew were from medical procedures because he was a doctor: a scar on his left flank due to a chest tube, one on his pectorals due to a central line...amongst others. The only thing that was left unknown was where they had come from, and maybe John would find out someday, in due time. But for now, they were left unsaid, quite simply ignored because both men wanted them to be.

John outstretched his arms to Dave, who took his hands in his own, and then the older man pulled him back onto the bed, on top of him. Their bodies lie against each other, and they were once again drawn into a kiss as they turned onto their sides, wrapping their arms around each other and allowing their hands to explore each other's bodies. John could feel Dave's hand moving down his back and to his side, finding the scars there left from years ago and tracing them with his fingertips gently, almost lovingly. John moved his own hands over Dave's chest and around his side to the small of his back, only hesitating briefly before moving lower...lower.

Dave suddenly pulled away, sitting up. "What is it?" John asked, alarmed.

"We can't do this dry," Dave replied, hopping off of the bed. John gave him a puzzled glance, urging Dave silently to elaborate, but the younger man was looking around the room, and when he turned back to John, he caught the confused expression. "Lubricant. We need some kind of lubricant."

"I..." John said, wracking his brain to think of where he could have any, and shrugging when he came up with nothing. "I don't have any."

"Do you have any lotion?" Dave asked, his eyes traveling to an open door that led to an adjoining bathroom. Without waiting for a response, Dave quickly ran into the room. He glanced inside the shower, briefly considering using the conditioner that was sitting on the small shelf, but something didn't settle right with that option. He'd immediately thought of Luka's and his encounter in the shower a few weeks ago upon seeing it, and he didn't want to be thinking about that while fucking John. "Lotion, John?"

"Maybe," he heard from the bedroom. "Check the mirror."

"The mirror?" Dave asked himself as he glanced into it, catching his reflection in the glass. Recognition crossed his face as he realized what John meant, and he pulled open the mirror door to reveal a small medicine cabinet. Inside was a large bottle of body lotion. Dave immediately smiled; they could have all the sex they wanted with that thing. He picked it up and crossed the threshold into the bedroom once more, moving towards the bed. "Got it."

Staring at the bottle of lotion in Dave's hand, John thought, Shit. This was really going to happen. This was really going to happen, right now, at this time. Right now. But he had no idea what to do. "How exactly are we going to do this?" John asked as he scooted over to let Dave sit down next to him. "I mean...do I lay on my stomach or something?"

Man, the guy really *was* a novice with this, wasn't he? But Dave compressed his smile; he didn't want John to think he was making fun of him and scare him off, when all he was doing was smiling at how cute John was right now. That was the last thing he needed because, God, he'd wanted this for so long.

"Let's just see how it goes," Dave said, moving on top of John and enveloping his lips with his own as he wrapped his strong arms around the older man. While doing this, Dave managed to squeeze some of the lotion into his hand, and rubbed it between his hands before moving them down between their two bodies to wrap it around John's and his own cock in an attempt to get them harder than the half-masts they were at now. He began to tug and twist gently, pumping one cock in each hand, and was pleased when he heard a moan escape from John's lips as the older man started bucking his hips against his hand.


With his own cock lubricated, the only thing left to do was get John's ass ready. Squeezing more lotion onto his hand while John was distracted by Dave masturbating him, he moved his hand between John's legs to cup his balls briefly before moving behind them, right to John's pucker. Very gently and slowly, he slid one finger inside John, who immediately let out a gasp when he realized what was going on. Dave looked at John expectantly, and John nodded to show that he was doing fine and to continue. Without hesitation, Dave began pulling his finger in and out, stretching him enough to fit two fingers. Suddenly, a mischievous smile came to Dave's face, and John narrowed his eyes in suspicion just as a jolt of pleasure was sent through is body.

"God!" John exclaimed as his eyes went wide and his breath came in short bursts, his heart ramming in his chest. "How did you do that?"

Dave just smiled, continuing to sweep his fingers over John's prostate every time he entered, sending small orgasms through John each time he touched his sweet spot. John could already feel himself about to go over the edge with all of the sensations Dave was sending through is body at once. Kissing and touching and pumping and whatever-the-hell-it-was Dave was doing down there, and it was all driving John crazy.

Realizing this, Dave felt that three fingers was sufficient for John to be ready, so some tact, Dave carefully pulled out his fingers, just as he had been doing, but instead of sliding them back inside of John, he slid in his cock, which, by now, had a raging hard-on. Slowly, with his palms pressed flat against the mattress to hold him up, since he was on top of John, Dave entered John so he wouldn't hurt him, and John looked up at Dave with questioning eyes, as if to ask if what he thought was happening was really happening. Dave smiled as he saw another wave of pleasure sweep over John's face as he once again touched John's sweet spot, and continued to smile each time he swept over it.

After several more moments of this, John said, half-moaning on the first word: "*God*...you could go on all night, couldn't you?"

"Thank those martinis Corrine gave me," Dave said, only thinking about how much more "staying power" he would've had if he'd taken the Dexedrine he had in the pocket of his slacks. Next time, Dave thought to himself. Then: If there even *is* a next time, Malucci.

"Well, whatever it is you're doing," John said, running his hands up Dave's arms and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his muscles under the slickness of his sweaty skin, "just keep doing it."

Quite unexpectedly, Dave felt John's hands close around his wrists, and then raise his arms up so that he could hold the younger man's hands. Clasping hands tightly with John, the older doctor supported Dave, surprisingly being able to bear the younger doctor's weight. This was something Dave had never done with another man while having sex, and it was somehow intimate and arousing at the same time, especially since he was doing it with someone he cared for like this. Closing his eyes, Dave listened to the night air, hearing their harsh breathing and skin moving against skin as he thrust in and out of John slowly, in and out and in and out and, God, John was so tight against his skin, surrounding him and taking him in and never letting go, God, don't ever let me go, Dave thought, his eyes screwed shut.

Throwing his head back, Dave soon felt himself going over the edge, and let go of one of John's hand to pump John in tune with his thrusts, each thrust becoming quicker than the last. "God, you are so tight, John," Dave whispered breathlessly as he felt the tightness of John's ass around him. "God...God...oh, God...oh God oh God oh God...!"

Dave opened his eyes and looked down into John's as he tried to form a sentence, words, anything, but all he could do was utter unintelligible sounds as he came hard and fast, just as John exploded between them, coming on their chests and Dave's hand, which had still been pumping him. Dave gently slid out of John and collapsed against his chest, resting his ear against John's heart, the older man's semen almost gluing them together. Their breathing was hard and uneven, and Dave could barely hear John's heart against his ear because his own was beating so loudly in his chest. Finally, when their breathing became even once more and their heart rates were normal, Dave rolled off of John and lay on his back next to him in bed.

"Can you come up here?" John asked. He was hoping that Dave wouldn't pull out once they were finished, but the younger man had, leaving him suddenly feeling empty without Dave inside of him or touching him. Dave craned his neck back to look up at John and smiled, before turning over again and scooting up towards him. They crawled under the covers, and John turned towards Dave and nuzzled into his chest, being one of those one-in-a- million guys that liked to cuddle after sex. "That's better."

Dave smiled, and then let out a deep yawn as he arched his back with it. "God, John," Dave said, getting comfortable in the bed with him, the warmth of their first night together returning to him. "If tonight was this good, I can't wait to see how you'll be with some practice."

Dave felt John smile as the younger man fell asleep in his arms, and only briefly wondered how different things would be in the morning, and if their relationship would fall into one like his and Luka's was now or had been before, or escalate into what he really wanted: something more.

-------------------------------

Faith makes everybody scared

It's the unknown, the don't know

That keeps me hanging on and on and on to you

-------------------------------

------------------------------- Chapter Eight: Something More -------------------------------

I just opened up my eyes

And let the world come climbing in

It's all better now, things are gonna work somehow

If I just sleep another hour

-------------------------------

No cars could be heard at this peaceful hour of the morning. The sun peeked through the open curtains, bathing everything in a bright yellow glow. The birds that used to migrate south for the winter years ago but now stayed year-round chirped softly at the screen of the windows, which were open. And two men in bed lay sleeping, one on his stomach, snoring softly, the other on his back, silent.

The quiet of the morning was suddenly shattered by an awful beeping sound, sending the birds away from the open window, and David Malucci wouldn't have been surprised if the sun went into hiding too. The annoying alarm clock was probably one of the loudest he'd ever heard, and he briefly wondered if it would leave any permanent damage to his hearing. Lifting his head from the pillow and turning onto his back, Dave glanced at his companion, wondering if the older man was going to shut it off or not. He did a double take when he saw that John was still sleeping soundly.

Unable to take the sound any longer, Dave nudged John in the ribs, calling his name. "John. Get up. Shut off your alarm. John. Shut it off. John. John."

John rolled onto his side, burying his face into his pillow. Why was Dave bothering him at this early hour of the morning? God, the birds weren't even chirping yet. Lifting his head from his pillow, his eyes still halfway closed, John glanced at Dave, who was wide-awake, and wondered just what the hell his problem was. Suddenly realizing that Dave wasn't the only one in the room making noise, John reached over and slapped a hand on top of the alarm clock, silencing it quickly.

"Now, what is it that you want?" John asked, turning back to Dave once that was out of the way.

Dave stared at him for a moment before breaking into a grin, slightly shaking his head. "Forget it."

Turning onto his back once more, John stared at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts in his still-barely-awake-half-sleepy mode. Last night, he'd had sex with another man for the first time in his life. But not just any man - Dave Malucci. Dave Malucci, the tough guy of the ER, the lady- killer, the same guy who'd done it in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic he'd just met, the same guy who told off the Chief of the ED on that same day, and the same guy who was - as it seemed - bisexual and interested in him.

Am I *insane*??? John asked himself. And just what was going to happen after this? Were they going to do this again or were they going to go their separate ways? Were they going to become fuck buddies or become...boyfriends? John had always been someone's boyfriend, but he'd never *had* one before. How was it going to be different? Assuming that Dave even wanted that. Assuming that he, himself, wanted that. But right now, he was so confused and mixed up he didn't even know where to begin.

Maybe he should ask Dave. Turning towards his companion, his companion then turned towards him, waiting expectantly. "Dave, we need to talk about this."

"After breakfast?" the younger man asked quickly, in an attempt to delay the inevitable, in an attempt to keep this lasting just a little longer. He knew what was coming, he knew that John was just going to back out again, even if they had gone all the way this time. But maybe during breakfast Dave could convince him otherwise. Hopefully. Possibly. Damn it. "Can we talk about this after breakfast? Please?"

"Okay," John said, after some hesitation, and then pushed back the covers. Standing and stretching, he suddenly winced, feeling an ache from when Dave had penetrated him.

"You okay?" Dave asked, worried when he saw John grimace.

"Yeah...just a little...sore," he replied sheepishly, searching the floor with his eyes, but their clothes were all over the room, and finding his underwear in this mess was going to be impossible.

"Did I hurt you last night?" Dave asked, genuine concern in his eyes. "I didn't mean to if I did. It was the last thing I wanted to do."

"No," John quickly replied, shaking his head. He smiled at Dave, who smiled back. "A little soreness is expected, right?" Turning towards Dave as John reached for his robe, which was haphazardly thrown over the desk chair, he said: "Grab yourself a spare robe from the bathroom closet, and let's go downstairs and make us something to eat."

"Us? And who the hell's got a bathroom closet??" Dave asked as he stepped out of bed himself, taking a moment to stretch as he studied John's naked figure. He was tall and lean, like a model, and Dave could picture him in a pose, with a turtleneck on and some tight-fitting jeans. And he could also picture himself ripping off those jeans and that turtleneck, so before he found himself needing morning "relief," he quickly pushed that thought aside. Dave caught his own eye in the mirror that was attached to the closet door, glancing over his own body as he realized that he was undressed in front of John. Sure, he'd been so last night, but that had been in the darkness, in the heat of passion, and now it was daytime and minds were rational, when John could see the...

John glanced at Dave, who was looking at himself in the mirror. He was about to joke about how vain Dave was when he saw that the younger man wasn't checking himself out, but was almost embarrassed...even unexpectedly shy. Then John Carter noticed exactly why Dave Malucci was examining himself: The scars on his body were deep and clear, and John had noticed them last night, but hadn't noticed just how many there were. God, the things Dave must've gone through to obtain them, the pain he must've felt...

Dave cleared his throat suddenly, and John realized that the younger man had noticed him staring. Both men quickly looked away from the other, and Dave turned, heading towards the bathroom to get the robe before John had the chance to notice any more scars, and hopefully he wouldn't notice the ones that were on his...

John watched as Dave turned and moved into the bathroom, and he flinched as he saw three long slashes across Dave's back. His eyes traveled to the desk chair, where his pants were hanging over, but that wasn't what John was looking at...he was looking at the belt, knowing one just like it could've been the one to bestow those scars upon Dave. And the thought of Dave, a young boy, crying out in pain as his own father beat him with it, was like John getting his heart ripped out of his chest and stomped on.

"Corrine told me about that time you and your brother tried to make your parents breakfast in bed," John suddenly heard Dave call from the bathroom.

John quickly shook the images from his head as he attempted to organize the clothes in an attempt to clear his head. The clothes were scattered all over the bedroom floor, a reminder of the night they'd shared.

"Practically lit the kitchen on fire," Dave was saying.

Picking up what looked like his own shirt, though John couldn't be sure if it was Dave's, the Chief Resident threw it on the bed, and then bent down to pick up Dave's pants.

"*And* you managed to break the stove," he continued.

As John tossed Dave's pants into the bed as well, he heard something, a small noise, and glanced at the floor, only to see two pills bouncing on the floor. Had they fallen out of Dave's pants? John asked himself as he bent down to pick them up. Holding them in the palm of his hand, he could hear Dave talking about sticking to the cooking today, but wasn't listening to what the younger man was saying as he examined the pills, his brow furrowed in concentration. What could Dave possibly be doing with a couple of pills in his pants pocket? And not just any pills, these pills.

"How do you break a stove anyway?" Dave asked as he exited the bathroom, tying the robe around his waist. Dave could see John's back, since the older man was facing away from him, but John turned towards him, staring at something in his hand. Dave tossed him a puzzled glance as John looked up at him from under his brow, and then tilted his hand down to show Dave what he was holding. And Dave felt his heart jump up to his throat. Fuck! How the fuck had John found those pills?? Had he gone through Dave's stuff? What if he knew that those were Dexedrines? Could they pass off as painkillers? Hoping they would, he said as casually as he could: "Painkillers. I hurt my neck during hockey practice."

"These...aren't painkillers," John replied slowly, glancing briefly at the pills in his hand before looking back to Dave, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. John probably wouldn't have recognized what kind of pills these were, because of the various pills that he dealt with everyday, but he'd just given his depressed patient, a woman going to law school and medical school at the same time, the same kind of pills. "They're Dexedrine, Dave."

"No, they're not," Dave replied, shaking his head, hoping he didn't look nearly as nervous as he felt right now. He quickly thought of a painkiller, while also trying to think of how many more were in his pocket. If there were a few more, John might become suspicious and...and what? He couldn't accuse Dave of doing anything, because Dave wasn't doing anything wrong...right? "They're Percocets."

"No, they're not," John said, continuing to argue. He approached Dave, holding out the pills to him to show him. "See? They're Dexedrine."

Dave feigned surprise. "Shit! You're right. I must've grabbed the wrong bottle."

"Did you take any of these earlier?" John asked, hoping that he hadn't. A combination of just two of these pills with all those martinis Dave had had the night before could've caused him to have a reaction to the mix, and even though it obviously hadn't happened, Dave could've unintentionally put his health at risk.

"No," Dave replied quickly, his eyebrows raised. "The Chief noticed that I was, you know, moving kinda stiff and she asked me what was wrong, so I told her that I got hit pretty hard by one of the teammates during hockey. She, uh, gave me a few Percocets and told me to sign out some more if I was still sore, and I...I thought I'd grabbed the Percocets, but I guess I grabbed those by mistake..."

"Really?" John asked. Okay, so John had only been able to recognize them because he'd recently dispensed them to a patient, but...images of Dave in the Lounge the other day flashed through his mind. Images of a depressed and somewhat suicidal Dave... "Did you take the Percocets with alcohol, Dave?"

"No..." Dave quickly shook his head. "I was feeling better after the first two, but I took a couple just in case. And I *do* know a little about medicine, I'm not a complete idiot."

"Dave, I know you're not an idiot," John stated gently, worried that Dave always put himself down. Did he really think that lowly of himself? And most of all: why? "I just want to make sure that you're all right, that's all."

"I'm fine. Just careless, I guess," he said softly, brushing if off with a deceptively casual shrug. He suddenly grew a wry smile. "But, hey, we already knew that right?"

John sighed, giving up trying to get through to Dave for now. "You'd better get these back to the hospital then," he replied, after a moment of silence. "If you signed out Percocets and took the Dexedrine, it'll screw up the inventory list."

"I didn't sign them out," Dave said quietly. He glanced at John's expression of puzzlement, and hastily added: "I didn't have a chance. I was going to do it when I went to work today."

"Oh," John said as he held them out to Dave, the relief Dave was feeling unnoticeable in his expression or body language. Dave had long ago learned to make excuses and lie just as easily, something he'd needed to survive during his childhood, though sometimes it cost him when he was caught. "Just watch out, because if Dr. Weaver finds out you didn't sign these out she's going to give you Hell. And just...be careful."

"What?" Dave asked, quickly sticking the pills back into his slacks. They must've fallen out when John had tossed them onto the bed. But be careful about what?

"When you're playing hockey," John said, smiling good-naturedly at him. Dave really wasn't a morning person, was he? "Come on, let's head downstairs."

"Right," Dave said, nodding as he followed John into the hallway. Shit, that had been way too close, way too fucking close. God, how stupid could he have been, to leave them off of him for that long? He should've taken them at the hospital so John wouldn't have found them in the first place. "Dave. Are you coming?"

Turning back towards his companion, Dave quickly caught up with him, heading down a flight of stairs. He could only vaguely remember the path they had taken in this huge house to get to John's bedroom, so he stayed close to the older man so he wouldn't get lost in the mansion. In a few minutes, they were standing inside the kitchen, though it was clean as opposed to the glasses of martinis left on the counter and broken dish that had been on the floor.

"Did you clean this up, Dave?" John asked, trying to remember if either one of them had the night before.

"No..." Dave replied, as he moved to the refrigerator to see what he could make them for breakfast. "I guess one of the servants did."

"Do you think anyone overheard what we did last night?" John asked, panic flooding his mind. What if one of the staff members *had* overheard? God...

"We weren't that loud..." Dave said, eyeing John, seeing the concern in his eyes and expression. "I don't think anyone overheard anything...why?"

"I mean...someone could tell my grandparents, or my parents even...and if they found out...I don't know what they'd do..." John rambled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He looked at Dave again. "You didn't clean this up?"

Dave smiled, reassuringly. "John, don't worry. Why don't you make us some toast and some coffee?" he suggested, trying to get the older man's mind off of the subject.

"Okay..." John said, confidence slowly returning to him. No one could've overheard, and even if they had, they hadn't *seen* anything, so it would be their word against his if they decided to tell anyone, and surely his parents or grandparents would believe their own son and grandson. "I think I can do that."

"Are you sure I can trust you?" Dave joked as he searched the shelves for some breakfast food. He swore there was everything in this refrigerator that he'd ever bought in his whole life put together, that's how big and packed it was. Finally locating the eggs, Dave pulled out a few and cradled them in the crook of his elbow. He pulled open a meat drawer and found some bacon, so he pulled that out to add it to the eggs, along with some butter. Finding the clock on the wall, Dave saw that he had a few hours before work. Perfect. "Think you can drop me off at my apartment in an hour or so? I've got work at ten."

"Sure," John replied, nodding as he stuck the bread in the toaster. He turned to Dave, and watched as the younger man searched the cabinets for cookware. "Pots and pans are over there, and the silverware is over there. So how is it back at work?"

"Fine," Dave said as he pulled out a sufficient pan and placed it on top of the stove. He turned the stove on and placed some butter in the pan, allowing it to melt. "The hospital settled with Paul's parents. So I'm in the clear."

"That's good," John stated, nodding. John's mind suddenly turned to the conversation he'd had with Dave in the Lounge following his suspension. Dave had been upset and close to a breakdown, maybe even close to ending his career...ending his life? John pushed that thought aside quickly, instead turning back to Dave. "Uh...how are you?"

"Fine, how are you?" Dave replied lightly, smiling, pretending not to notice the concern in John's voice. He didn't want to talk about his behavior in the lounge the other day, because he was, frankly, embarrassed that he'd acted in such a way. He'd been a mess, emotionally, and the drugs hadn't helped any, and he didn't want John to think of him like that, wanted to show him that he was okay and everything was fine, even if it wasn't.

So instead of expressing his feelings, something he rarely did to even his own mother, with whom he spoke with and visited often, Dave pretended to concentrate on his cooking. He began to crack the eggs open over the stove and placed the yolks inside the pan, throwing away the shells in a nearby garbage bin. Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter, John watched Dave cook, Dave's brow creased in concentration as he mixed the eggs with bacon, cooking everything at once but managing to keep everything separate in the large pan. Suddenly looking up as if remembering something, Dave moved back to the refrigerator and pulled out some milk, pouring it into the eggs.

"Why don't you get the table ready while I do this?" Dave asked.

"Sure," John said, and began pulling out some plates and utensils for them to use. He glanced at Dave from the corner of his eye, knowing the younger man had ignored John's concern over his emotional health. Dave was certainly behaving differently than he had been over the past few weeks, and John briefly wondered if he was the reason. He'd rejected Dave harshly, in his opinion, causing the younger man to become angry and upset, and all because of John. He wondered if he could've saved everyone the trouble and just accepted this rather than push it away. But even now, he wasn't sure if he was ready for this, and he knew when he told Dave, it was going to crush the Junior Resident.

Within minutes, they were sitting on stools at the kitchen counter, eating breakfast and drinking coffee, talking about things such as work and sports, both avoiding the topic of what had happened last night. Finally, when breakfast was over, they sat at the table, still drinking their coffee, waiting for it to happen, waiting for one of them to mention it.

John was the first one brave enough to do it. "Dave..." he started, but couldn't form the right words to continue. Then, finally: "Last night was..."

"Different?" he offered, when John couldn't find the right word.

"Yeah. But it was...good," John stated, looking up at Dave. "But I've never considered this. I don't know what...I...Dave...I don't...God..."

"John," Dave interrupted, saving him from the stuttering mess he'd suddenly become. The younger man looked away, staring at his empty coffee mug. "Look...what happened last night was something that I've wanted to happen for so long. And I may have wanted it so badly that it was a mistake just attempting it, but I don't regret it. And I hope that you don't either, John." He finally looked up at his companion, his eyes showing his desperation. "I know that this is hard. And confusing. Trust me, John, I know, I went through it myself."

John looked down, asking quietly: "You did?"

"Yes," Dave replied, nodding, trying to get John to meet his gaze so he could see the reassurance in the younger man's eyes. "Don't sound so surprised."

"It's just that you're so sure of yourself...you know...about this stuff..."

"Looks can be deceiving, John," Dave said quietly.

"What was it like?" John asked after a few moments of silence, almost embarrassed to ask something like that. But he needed to know he wasn't the only person to go through this. He needed to be reassured that it was okay to feel like this.

"It was with Steven," Dave said, smiling softly at the memory. "It was great."

-------------------------------

Tried to reach you at your mom's

Hey baby why're you trying to keep away for so long?

I stopped feeling good, somehow I just knew I would

I guess I'll sleep another hour

-------------------------------

Sixteen-year-old David Malucci, junior at a high school in Yonkers, New York, stood in the hallway of his school, biting his lip nervously as he watched his boyfriend of ten months, Steven Drake, pull some books out of his locker and slip them into his bookbag. But the reason for his nervousness was not the fear that someone might see him with Steven, because the couple was known throughout the school, and, by now, they'd gone through all the torments and abuses for being gay and out in high school, and students were tired of bugging them about it, so they were left alone, only occasionally bothered by jerks looking for attention. The reason for his nervousness was the fear of rejection, because if everything didn't go as planned, Dave would be seriously embarrassed, and seriously crushed.

Approaching his boyfriend, he leaned against the locker next to Steven's, smiling one of his winning smiles. "Hey, Steven."

"Hey, Dave," Steven said, returning the smile with one of his own before turning back to his locker to pull out a notebook he'd forgotten. "What's up?"

"Uh...well...see, my dad's got this business trip for work, right? So...he's going to be gone for a couple days: Tonight and all day tomorrow." Dave said, hoping Steven would get his drift so he wouldn't have to continue, because this was very awkward for him, because he was afraid Steven was going to totally turn him down. Fiddling with his necklace, Dave soon moved his hands to wring each other, and looked up at Steven to see the older boy smiling at him, seemingly slightly amused. Oh, God, Dave thought, quickly looking down. Steven was laughing at him! "And...you know, uh...I was just wondering if maybe...possibly...I don't know, if you want, you could...you could, uh..." Why wasn't Steven getting his drift?

"Come over?" Steven asked, closing his locker and leaning against it, his amused smile turning into a softer one as he saw Dave blush and realized that he'd embarrassed the younger boy. He reached out and began to finger Dave's sleeve, before moving his hand to hold Dave's. The junior glanced up from under his brow, his eyes showing his anxiety. "I'd love to."

-------------------------------

Feels like I'm wasting my time

Hanging on this same old line

Got to get you off of my mind

There's nothing left for me to find

-------------------------------

"Why were you so nervous?" John asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I mean...you guys had been together for a long time, right? Of course he'd want to be with you."

"Yeah, but we'd never done anything that serious," he explained. "And I'd never been with a guy, plenty of girls, but never a guy, and I was nervous. What if I wasn't any good at it, you know? What if I did something wrong?"

"Well, if he talked you through it like you talked me through it," John said, "then I'm sure you did just fine."

Dave looked away, not one to take compliments well. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, brushing it off. "Anyway, I couldn't wait for that night to come," Dave said, his elbows leaning on the counter. He glanced up at John, glad to see that the older man was interested and had been hanging on to his every word. He just wanted to make sure John knew that it was okay to feel a little odd but good about what had happened. "I mean...don't get me wrong. I was scared as hell too. But...Steven made me feel all right," Dave continued, hoping that he'd make John feel all right too.

-------------------------------

And all the more I want

All the more I need

All the while you want something more

-------------------------------

Dave stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, studying himself, trying to figure out which shirt he should wear. Tonight was going to be very special, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect, right down to the blue shirt or the gray shirt. Gray shirt. He swiftly stripped off the blue shirt in one fluent movement, pulling on the gray shirt, and then stood in front of the mirror again, quickly running his fingers through his hair. Blue shirt?

The doorbell rang out throughout the house, echoing off of the walls of the empty hallway, leaving Dave with the decision of wearing the gray shirt, and he bounded down the steps, jumping the last few. He was soon at the front door, smoothing out his shirt and rubbing his hands together before opening the door, smiling brightly.

"Hey, Steven," Dave said, moving over to allow the older boy passage into his house. "I hope you're hungry. I made dinner."

"Great," Steven replied, then pulled out a dozen roses from behind his back. Dave's expression showed his delight as his eyes went wide with surprise. Steven, though usually cool and confident, seemed suddenly self- conscious. And the fact that Dave could make Steven self-conscious thrilled him, because Steven was always so calm and collected, unlike Dave, who was nervous as hell when it came to romance. "I got you these. Do you like roses?"

"I love them," Dave said, standing flush to Steven as he closed the door behind him, the only thing separating them being the roses. He looked up from the flowers, a smile on his face as he leaned forward and closed his eyes, his lips meeting Steven's. Dave felt the older boy's hand move to the back of Dave's neck, something Steven always did when they kissed like this, almost as if he were claiming Dave as his and his alone, and it just drove Dave wild. Dave pulled away, nodding towards the kitchen as he licked his lips. "Don't want dinner to go cold."

Steven smiled as Dave walked away from him, shaking his head at the fact that Dave was deliberately teasing him. He attempted to make the bulge in his pants disappear by walking it off as he moved into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to watch Dave place the roses in a vase, which he promptly filled with water. Steven knew why he was here tonight, and he couldn't wait for that moment to come, though he knew he had to be patient and take things slow, because this was Dave's first time being intimate with another guy.

Dinner was fun and long, lasting hours, wherein both boys flirted and talked and laughed, occasionally touching and kissing, but each returning to their food or conversation before anything serious could happen. But, as Dave began putting dishes into the sink, Steven knew that it was time to take things further. He approached the younger boy from behind, wrapping his arms around Dave's waist, nuzzling Dave's neck with his cheek before kissing it, sucking it gently at times.

Dave turned in Steven's arms, his lips enveloping the older boy's as he draped his arms over Steven's shoulders, running his fingers through his jet black hair. He felt Steven's hands tugging at the gray shirt, soon pulling out from his pants, then he felt Steven's fingers trailing up his chest, brushing gently over his nipples, sending a chill down Dave's spine. Dave pulled away now, smiling up at Steven, now nodding towards the upstairs, towards his bedroom.

The reply was another kiss, and soon, Dave was leading Steven up the stairs, and very soon after that, they were on the bed, their clothes strewn about the floor. Dave was straddling Steven, who was lying underneath him, and their tongues were clashing together in Dave's mouth, fighting for control, and Dave could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Steven placed an open palm on Dave's chest, feeling the younger boy's heart beating rapidly underneath it. "Dave...just relax. We'll take things slow and steady, and it'll feel real good, and soon your heart will be pounding for a different reason. Okay?"

"O...okay," Dave replied, nodding, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He smiled reassuringly at Steven even though he was still quite nervous, glancing down briefly before looking back up. "You know I've never done this before. What...I mean...who's going to be doing the doing tonight?"

"You've had sex with a girl before, right?" Steven asked, knowing that the resident lady-killer had, indeed, had sex with girls before. Dave simply nodded, though answering was unnecessary. "Well, it's kind of like that, except a little different. So why don't you try doing the...doing tonight?"

"I think I can do that."

-------------------------------

All the more I want

All the more I need

All the while you want something more

-------------------------------

"And then what?" John asked, needing to know what had happened next, needing to know that he wasn't the only one who felt like this after his own first time.

"Then...we had sex," he replied, shrugging slightly, staring into his empty coffee cup, the images of that night flooding his memory. "It was different...it was weird...it was..." He glanced up at John, catching the Chief Resident's eye. "It was nice."

-------------------------------

Thought I found the words to say

Just to get you feeling fine over heels my way

-------------------------------

Hands roaming, running down sides and over chests and backs, everywhere, touching and caressing and teasing and tickling, finding those sweet points and sensitive places, never ceasing to miss a spot and never ceasing to neglect an area of import. And, now, one of Steven's hands was gently trailing behind Dave's thigh, the younger boy lying down next to him, both boys on their sides. Dave's hands, however, were clutching at Steven's back, never wanting to let the older boy go, because this was exactly where he wanted to be, safe in the arms of his lover, away from the danger of the world that lie outside of this bed.

Steven raised his own leg slightly, bringing it to rest on Dave's hip, and then guided Dave inside of him, gently, slowly, telling the inexperienced teenager what to do and what he was doing, and then showing him...showing him a world that he'd never seen and one that he never wanted to leave.

Starting with a slow rhythm, they soon moved to a quicker-paced one, and for the first time in his life, Dave actually felt *alive*, felt like every single cell and atom of his body was active and moving, living and breathing. When he was with girls, he never cared about how they felt and he only wanted release, but now...with Steven...he wanted to make sure he was doing it perfectly and he wanted to feel the way he was feeling right now, but more importantly he wanted to make sure that Steven was feeling good. And it was the best feeling in the world, one that he never wanted to forget and wanted to relive over and over and over again.

And they came screaming, collapsing in each other's arms when it was over, boneless and breathing heavily, but still wanting more more more.

"I love you," he suddenly heard Steven whisper. He looked up at the older boy in surprise, who simply smiled softly at him. "You think I'd just let anyone make love to me?"

"But..." Dave said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "You've been with guys before...you told me that."

"But I've never let anyone do that to me before," he replied, his eyes displaying just how much this had meant to him.

"Wait..." Dave said, a smiling coming to his face. "So...I'm your first?" Steven bit his lip, nodding, and Dave's smile broadened as he kissed the younger boy firmly on the mouth. "I love you too, Steven."

-------------------------------

But it don't matter how

I lost the word and nerve and now

There's nothing more for me to say

-------------------------------

"So..." John said, the word curling into a question. He looked up at Dave. "You'd been Steven's first?"

"Yeah," Dave replied, smiling. "God, I was so in love with him then."

"Dave..." John said, trying to gather his thoughts into coherent words. What Dave had just described to him was almost exactly how he was feeling, right down to the awkwardness and fear in the beginning, and how natural it felt as the night progressed. But love? John didn't love Dave...did he? Love was something John hadn't experienced before...love was something for those other people, the lucky people...certainly not him and certainly not someone like Dave. He ran his fingers through his hair in an act of frustration, and then looked back up to the younger man. "Can I think about this?"

"You can take all the time you want to think it through," Dave said, much to John's surprise. He was glad that Dave understood, and would allow John time to understand, himself. "But I hope that you don't ignore it or try to hide from it, because it's who you are, and you should never be ashamed or scared of who you are."

"Dave...if...if...if we...what would happen?" John asked, hoping Dave would be able to make sense out of that.

"I'd hope that we'd be able to be in a relationship," Dave replied, then quickly added: "But not just sex...more than that."

"More than what happened between you and Luka?" John blurted out, unable to hide the fact that he knew any longer.

Dave looked up at John in surprise, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at once. John knew about Luka and him. John knew. But how? Did Luka say something to him? Was Luka telling other people too? Did John just figure it out? If he figured it out, could other people figure it out as well? Obviously assaulting himself with questions was going to get him nowhere, so Dave finally said: "How do you know about Luka and me?"

"I figured it out, Dave," John replied, only partially lying. If Dave had reacted in this way about him just knowing, he wasn't sure how he would react to Luka actually inquiring about Dave with him. Seeing Dave's surprised expression turn to concern, he quickly said: "Don't worry, Dave. I would've never even guessed if you hadn't...come on to me. It's just that you guys were in an argument, and I didn't even know you were friends, and I just put two and two together, I guess...Dave, don't worry, no one even suspects anything. I'm the only one."

Dave shook his head, looking up at John with a sigh. "I don't care if anyone finds out, but Luka might. That's all I'm concerned about."

John narrowed his eyes, his head tilting in confusion. "Do you still care about him?"

"Luka?" Dave asked, almost as if the thought were incredulous. He shook his head fiercely. "No, no...he...he used me when he knew I really cared about him, and...what happened between us was a while ago, over the summer. We should be trying to deal with it, but we just choose to be irrational about it and not talk to each other. I just don't want him to blame me if someone else finds out. It could get really ugly."

"Are you...afraid of what Luka might do?" John asked, not realizing how bad it was between the two men until now.

Dave glanced up, and said slowly: "What do you mean?"

"I don't know..." John said hesitantly, not sure how exactly to explain the feeling that was creeping up into the back of his mind. "I mean...are you...afraid of Luka?"

"Afraid of him?" Dave said, as if the notion were incredulous. He smiled, though John wasn't sure just how genuine that smile was. "John, I may be shorter than him, but I'm stronger than him. If things got physical, I think he'd be the one who should be afraid."

John held back any other thought he might have had, sensing that Dave was uncomfortable on the subject. And, since he barely knew the younger man, he had no right to ask such questions. A thought suddenly came to John. "How did you get here?"

"Huh?" Dave asked, the shift in topic leaving him slightly confused.

"You need me to drive you back to your apartment," John stated. "You didn't take your bike here?"

"What, are you kidding me?" Dave asked, tossing John a look. "Yeah, sure. And I parked it in the living room. You're mother would've really loved me then... Abby drove me here, she's keeping my bike at her place until I pick it up."

"Abby drove you," John stated rather than asked. He looked down, biting his lip, before turning back to Dave. "She wasn't too sore about not being invited, was she?"

"No..." was the slow reply. "Why? You two had a thing, or something?"

"No," John said, shaking his head. "Sort of. I mean...over the summer, we kind of saw each other, but neither of us took it any further...and then when she tried, I kind of told her I wasn't interested anymore."

"Really?" Dave asked, unable to help the smile that came to his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking that perhaps he'd been the reason that John had told Abby to back off. Maybe he had a better chance at this than he'd thought! "Looks like everyone had their regretted flings over the summer, huh?"

Glancing at the clock and noting the time, John stood and started to gather the plates. "I think I should drop you off now," he said, not really liking the direction this conversation was heading in. He didn't want to talk about Abby with Dave, someone who he'd had sex with the night before. And it was only because he didn't know if Dave was the reason he'd told Abby he wasn't interested in her anymore, because he still wasn't sure if he wanted in this or not. "Do you want me to drop you off at Abby's place?"

"Yeah, sure..." Dave said, watching as John busied himself with the dishes, his brow furrowed in worry. Carefully, he approached John, standing close to him, and took John's arm, turning him to face him. "John...I don't want to push you, and I don't want to rush you into anything. Take all the time you need to figure out what you want...I'll wait."

-------------------------------

Feels like I'm wasting my time

Hanging on this same old line

There's nothing left for me to find

-------------------------------

"Do you think it's something I ate?" Mr. Foster asked, holding his stomach and rubbing his hand back and forth over the gown, glancing up at his doctor with a concerned expression.

Dr. Dave Malucci ignored the question for now, noting down the tests he wanted to run on his chart for this guy who'd been passing blood in his stool. CBC, hemoglobin/hemocrit, cell count, type and cross, bleeding times, abdominal series, IV access, NPO...God, that trauma across the hallway sure looked exciting.

See, since coming back from his suspension, he'd been barred from taking any traumas as part of his punishment, which seemed a little harsh to him. He loved traumas, everyone at the hospital knew that, and taking them away was like taking away his oxygen supply. But the Chief had said that it'd give him a chance to brush up on his bedside manner and slow down a bit. Yeah, sure. She just wanted to watch him suffer as he suffocated.

"Dr. Malucci?" He looked up at his patient. Oh yeah, that's right. He *had* asked him a question before. But what was it again? "Do you think it's something I ate?"

"It could be," Dave replied, shrugging. "It's probably lower GI bleeding. I'm just going to run some tests, and then call in a gastrointestinologist, and they'll probably admit you."

"Admit me?" he asked. "Should I call in sick to work tomorrow?"

"Yes," Dave said in exasperation, glancing out the exam room window and across the hall at the trauma Luka and a few nurses were working on. From what it looked like, they were having trouble stabilizing the patient, and, God, he was just itching to get in there and right in the action. Unable to take it in this room any longer, Dave moved towards the door, briefly calling over his shoulder: "A nurse will be in to draw some blood, and someone'll take you up to Radiology for some x-rays."

"Thanks, doctor!" his patient called gratefully, but Dave was already heading down the hallway towards his other patient in the next room: a kid who'd swallowed a toy. That sure seemed like fun.

"Dave!" he suddenly heard from behind him, and turned to see Abby standing in the doorway of Trauma One. "We need you in here! Now!"

"I can't," Dave replied, holding his hands out in a helpless gesture, but he moved towards her. "I'm off of traumas for two weeks."

"Get in here!" she said, grabbing his scrub top and jerking him into the room as he shook his head. "We got a girl OD'ing on Heroin and Luka can't stabilize her."

"If I get in trouble, I'm blaming you guys," he said, pointing at everyone in the room. He approached the trauma room table, seeing that the woman on top was already arresting. He pulled on a pair of gloves. "How do you know it was Heroin?"

"Her friend found her with this sticking out of her arm," Abby explained, holding up a hypodermic needle with some residue still inside. "Given all her other symptoms, we're almost positive it is Heroin."

"I see," Dave said, nodding sadly. "Do you think she took anything else?"

"We're not sure," Luka answered, without looking up from what he was doing. "She's been down for a half-hour."

"A half-hour?" Dave asked, as he took over squeezing charcoal into the ET tube. "Don't you think we should call it?"

"No. She's only 18. Administer the Narcan," he said, looking up at Dave.

Dave did as he was told, and they waited to see if one drug could save her life from another. He was about to suggest calling it again, when, as if on cue, the young woman on the table shot her eyes open, looking around the room in horror. Dave began to open his mouth to explain to her where she was, but she just flung her arm towards him, knocking the charcoal out of his hand and causing it to spray at him, right before pulling out her tube. "Shit!" Dave called out as he brought his gloved hand up to his eyes, only to realize that he couldn't wipe it out of his eyes and off his face with the glove. Dave brought his arm up to his face and tried to wipe it off that way, but his eye began to sting, and not being able to do anything about it was frustrating. "Get some restraints in here!"

"Please, calm down," Luka said gently, trying to get her to calm down as the nurses applied the restraints to each limb. Dave blinked hard, backing away from the table as he ripped off his gloves and began rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand, letting out a grunt. "Let's get an NG tube. Dave, are you all right?"

"I think I got some in my eye," he stated, rubbing it fiercely to get it to stop stinging. He let out another grunt of pain. "God, that hurts like a bitch."

"Dave, sit down," Luka instructed, motioning towards the next room. He glanced at Abby. "Abby, get Dr. Chen in here to take over." The nurse quickly left and came back with Jing-Mei in tow. "Here, let's go into Sutures and flush it out," Luka said as he removed his trauma gown and threw it into the garbage, leading a partially blinded Dave into the next room. He sat the younger man down onto the exam table, and then sat down on a stool in front of him, preparing an irrigation kit with warm saline. "Stop rubbing it, you'll only make it worse. Open your eye. Let me see it."

"It hurts," he stated, his eye squeezed shut.

"Don't be such a baby," Luka teased, a smile on his face. "Let me see it." Dave leaned forward, towards Luka, and opened his eye, but kept blinking in pain. "Stop blinking."

"I can't, it hurts," he said, pulling back as he once again rubbed his eye. "God."

"I said, stop rubbing it," Luka stated as he brushed Dave's hand away from his eye and cupped the Junior Resident's face in his hand, pulling him towards him once more. He opened his eye, trying his best not to blink so much and letting out a small sound when he failed to do so. Luka leaned forward, as well, examining Dave's eye to make sure there was no damage. "It looks fine. You'll just have to flush it out and I'll give you some local anesthetic eye drops."

"Thanks," Dave said, but neither man moved from their positions. Instead, Luka gently brushed over Dave's cheekbone with his knuckles, then leaned in closer, but Dave abruptly pulled away, closing his eye tightly and rubbing it again as an excuse to create distance between them. He looked up at the older man apologetically, wanting to say something. "Luka..."

"Dave, we need to talk about this," Luka said suddenly, unable to let Dave ignore the subject any longer.

"I know," Dave replied, nodding. He let out a deep breath, then: "Look, Luka. What happened between us happened months ago, in the summer. I know I introduced you to something new, but there's a lot more than what I *did* introduce you to...other people, people you want to be with. People you're not ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of you, Dave!" he quickly said. "And I'm sorry that you think that, because it isn't true."

"You were ashamed of us, Luka. I can't...I won't live like that," Dave interrupted.

"But I don't want anything or anyone else," Luka said, his eyes pleading with the younger man, telling him exactly what he *did* want. "Dave, I was stupid before. I realize my mistakes now, and I'm willing to correct them."

"Luka..." Dave started, trying to explain. He looked away briefly before looking up at Luka, his own eyes now pleading. "I've moved on. Now you need to."

Then, suddenly, Dave hopped off of the gurney and stood, leaving the room without looking back. Sitting back on his stool, Luka ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. How was he supposed to "move on"? He couldn't just turn off his feelings with the flick of a switch. Letting out a sigh, Luka stood, tossing the opened irrigation kit inside the trash, wishing he could throw his feelings for Dave away just as easily.

-------------------------------

And all the more I want

All the more I need

All the while you want something more

-------------------------------

Dave stepped out of the room and into the hallway, not daring to look back at Luka inside Sutures. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing as he did so. God, how did he get himself into things like this? If only Luka had wanted this months ago...why had it taken the Attending so long to realize he had feelings for him? Why did things have to be so complicated all the time?

"Dr. Malucci!" he suddenly heard from behind him, and he turned to face Dr. Weaver, though he certainly didn't need to see her to recognize who'd snapped at him in that unruly tone. She shoved a chart at him, and he took it before it could jab him in the stomach, and she pointed at a specific line in the chart. "What does that say?"

"Dr. Malucci administered Narcan at 6:05pm," he recited, and then glanced up at her.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, her usually pretty face contorted with anger.

"She was overdosing on Heroin..."

"No, I mean why were you in the trauma at all?!" she barked, startling him. "If I remember correctly, I specifically forbade you from traumas for two weeks. Now I'm going to have to change it to until further notice."

"Dr. Weaver!" he exclaimed, desperation in his eyes. Further notice?! He wouldn't have traumas for another month - if he was lucky!! "A nurse dragged me in! Dr. Kovac needed assistance, and I was the only doctor available!"

"If you have a problem, Dr. Malucci," she said, "then you come and get me."

"We all know what happened last time I tried that," he spat without thinking, recalling the previous month's patient with the Marfan syndrome.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, Malucci," she snapped, her eyes glaring daggers at him. "You are skating on thin ice! Don't forget that I can always revoke my decision to keep you working at this hospital. And don't forget that I won't hesitate to do so."

"How can I forget? You remind me every time you see me!" Dave yelled.

"Don't push me Malucci," she muttered, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She glanced up at him, watching him carefully, remembering finding him on the roof in tears a month or so ago, remembering him in the lounge near a breakdown a few weeks ago, remembering John noting that something was wrong as well. Perhaps she shouldn't have laid it into him that hard, she thought to herself. But sometimes he just made her so angry... It was no excuse, she thought to herself. If she really cared about him, it wouldn't matter how angry he made her if his mental stability were in jeopardy. But was it really? He furrowed his brow, watching her watch him. "Dave..."

"What?" he snapped, wondering what the hell she was looking at. He could see the concern in her eyes, wondering if he was really fit to do this job or not, wondering when his mental breakdown was going to happen. Quite frankly, he was wondering too. But she didn't need to pretend to care.

"Just..." she began, but trailed off with a sigh. It was obvious that he didn't want her help, so she couldn't give it. But she could offer it. "If you need help with anything, just come to me. Okay?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Are we still talking about what just happened?"

She turned and walked away from him tiredly, leaving the question to hang in the air. He hated it when she did that: getting the last word without actually getting the last word. He clenched his jaw as he watched her walk away from him, and bit back any comment that might cause her to carry out her threat. He placed his hands on his waist and closed his eyes, taking a minute to just breathe and calm down. Halfway through his countdown from ten to zero, someone interrupted his exercise that he'd noticed he'd needed to use more and more often.

"You look like you could use a pick-me-up," he heard the recognizable voice of Abby say, who was walking next to him. She'd noticed that things between Luka and Dave hadn't been quite right - hell, everyone had - and from the way it looked, the two had really been friends, and one of them had done something to hurt the other, and she just had this gut feeling that Dave had been the victim. She knew how Luka could get. And she was sure that that cheeking he'd just taken from Dr. Weaver hadn't helped any.

Dave glanced down at her, offering her a small, nervous smile. "What? What do you mean 'pick me up'?"

"Want to grab some coffee from the cafeteria?" she offered, looking up at him with a strange expression on her face.

"Uh...I..." He sighed, pausing to think. "It wasn't exactly the pick-me-up I had in mind, but I guess it'll do for now."

"Why?" she asked as they moved to the elevator alcove together. "What did you think I meant?" He smiled slyly at her, his eyes traveling up and down her body before winking, and she smacked his arm playfully. "Get outta here!"

-------------------------------

All the more I want

All the more I need

All the while you want something

-------------------------------

"Has anyone seen Abby?" Luka asked, holding up his chart. He'd asked her to administer atropine to his patient in Three, but she hadn't written it down, and though he was pretty sure that she'd given him some, he couldn't take the chance. So, now, he was on his search to find her, though he hadn't seen her since the trauma with Dr. Malucci earlier. "Randi, have you seen Abby?"

"I *saw* her," she replied in that same terse manner that she served everyone with. He tossed her a look, and she glanced up from the phone just in time to catch it. "She went up to the cafeteria. She was with Dr. Dave."

"Didn't she drive him to that party last night?" Cleo Finch inquired, briefly looking up from the discharge papers she was filling out.

"I saw her this morning with him on my way to work," Chuny quipped, causing the three to look at her, Cleo and Randi raising their eyebrows, silently urging her to continue. "He was leaving her apartment with his bike, wearing the *same exact* tux he was wearing when he left the hospital yesterday."

"Are you serious?" Cleo asked.

"Abby and Dr. Dave??" Randi said, all three gossipers smiling, too enveloped by the latest romance of the hospital to even notice Luka set his jaw and walk away, seething with every step.

-------------------------------

There's nothing left for me to say

Wanting what I need this way

-------------------------------

The same Dr. Dave and Abby that just moments ago had become the latest story for the hospital Rumor Mill were sitting in the cafeteria drinking the sludge that Cook County tried to sell as coffee and eating a couple sandwiches from the vending machine that *looked* like ham and cheese, though one could never be sure. They'd just sat down at about the same time they'd become the latest story, and therefore hadn't gotten wind of it. But they soon would, as would the rest of the staff, and most people wouldn't like it, including the new "couple."

"So..." Abby began, glancing up at him from the Styrofoam cup she was cradling in her hands. "Why are you and Luka fighting?"

"I'd prefer not to talk about it, if that's okay," Dave replied, glancing off briefly before looking back to Abby.

"Okay," she said, nodding. She bit her lip, something she always did when she was thinking, not knowing how much to pry because she didn't know this man sitting in front of her at all. She decided to ask a simple question and see where things went from there. "Is Luka the only thing that's been getting you so down lately?"

Dave glanced up at her from his coffee. Abby sure was perceptive - unless she really cared enough to actually notice. Well, he thought, she cared enough to go out of her way and share a coffee with him and ask. And, glancing into her eyes, seeing the genuine concern, he was pretty sure that she was the only person in this hospital who actually gave a damn about him. Perhaps he could actually refer to her as a friend in time.

"I'm fine," he said, shrugging it off.

"Dave..." she said, tossing him a look. "No, you're not. Everyone knows it."

"Everyone?" he asked, tossing her a look of his own. "Like who?"

"Dr. Weaver's been asking around about you," she said, not sure whether she should tell Dave about this or not, but knowing that it might be the only way to get him to open up to her.

"No, she hasn't," he said, but the conviction even rung false in his own ears. He could see in her eyes that it was. "She has?"

"I would've done the same thing," Abby argued. "You've just been acting strange lately."

"How so?"

"You're not yourself."

"Then who am I?"

"Stop it, Dave," she said, exasperated. "You're not the happy-go-lucky guy in the ER that drives us crazy any more. You're always on edge...you're different..." She hesitated. Then, finally, softly, "I'm worried about you. We all are."

"Don't be, I'm fine," he said tiredly. "I'm always fine. And judging by the way the Chief just laid into me, I don't think she cares if I live or die, Abby."

"That's not true. She's really worried about you, Dave. I think you just make her mad sometimes," Abby said, trying to convince him that people cared about him - like Abby. Others, such as their coworkers, didn't care about him because he had always shown them that he was a heartless smart- ass. But she had no doubt that if they saw this side of him, they would care too.

"Yeah, whatever," he said softly, and offered another casual shrug.

"Please, Dave, talk to me. I have this feeling that you need someone to talk to," she said. "You don't have to tell me everything, just tell me something. Let me help you."

He looked at her for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I'm sort of involved with someone," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He suddenly smiled. "I know, hard to believe, me of all people, actually involved with someone, but it's true."

She ignored his comment, knowing that he'd tried to use humor to mask the seriousness behind his situation. But she began to wonder if this was something that he did often. Perhaps this was his way of keeping everyone away from him: The funny guy who didn't need anyone or anything. "Sort of?"

He hesitated, trying to think how best to put this without giving too much away. Then, finally: "We went out for a drink, and then we went back to my place. One thing led to another, and things started to get serious, but nothing happened. Then last - " He quickly stopped himself before he almost said "night," immediately realizing that that would be a terrible, terrible mistake. "Last week, we had sex...and I think it meant more to me than it did to them."

"Why don't you ask?" Abby asked, tearing off a bit of her sandwich before popping it into her mouth.

"I did..." he replied. She looked at him expectantly. "They're getting back to me."

"What do you think the answer's going to be?" she asked around her food.

He sighed. "I'm not optimistic."

"Why not?"

"They've never done this sort of thing before." He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Been in a relationship?" she inquired, slightly confused.

"It's...complicated."

"I'm pretty understanding, Dave," she urged. "Try me."

Another sigh. "I'm not in this person's league. They've never dated someone like me before. We are so different, night and day really. This person is so special, smart, funny, good looking, rich, and I'm...I'm just me," he said sadly, looking down at the cup. "I'm just stupid, wise-ass, poor, average...Dave."

Abby looked at Dave for a minute, who looked so defeated and lost. So unconfident. So not the Dave she knew. But did she really know him at all? "Dave, you are special. You're a good doctor, you're a good person."

"I think we both know that I'm a terrible doctor, Abby," he said interrupting her. "And as for me being a good person...? I'm not so sure of that anymore."

"You are a good doctor, Dave. And you are a good person." She tried to make him make eye contact with her, but he would not look at her. "Do you love her, Dave?"

"What?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Do you love her?" she repeated softly.

"I..." He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "I don't know..."

"Go for it, Dave," she said, knowing the answer even if he didn't yet. "If she doesn't see what a good, special person you are, then *she's* the one that isn't worth it, not you."

"Thanks, Abby."

"Sure," she said, watching him. "So...do I know this lucky lady?"

He smiled. "No comment."

"So I do know her!" she said, leaning forward. "Who is it?" Dave simply looked at her, shaking his head. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head, ripping little pieces of the bread off of his sandwich and dropping them haphazardly on his plate. He wasn't hungry at all...he just had the irresistible urge to head right to the drug lockup and break into the locked cabinets if he had to. And he didn't like that image at all. It scared the shit out of him to know that this was what it'd come down to when he couldn't deal with something. Nevertheless, when he was finished speaking with Abby and was back to work, he still found himself hovering around the drug lockup, waiting for the ER to slow down so he could slip inside unnoticed, waiting for the opportunity to forget once again.

-------------------------------

And when I'm feeling low I know

I need to stop

-------------------------------

Standing outside in the backyard of his mansion, John smoked a cigarette in the silence of the evening. He knew he shouldn't smoke, something about trading one kind of addiction for another, but at least this addiction was a little better than the one he'd had previously, or so he tried to tell himself. Leaning his head back as he exhaled, he watched the smoke rise in the twilight. By now, the sun was setting a lot earlier than it had during the summer, so by five o'clock it was already getting dark.

John was home alone, as he had been all day, and hadn't found many things to keep himself busy. He'd tried working out, swimming, boxing, watching television, and even reading a book, but he could never keep his attention occupied for very long before his mind wandered back to last night's and this morning's events.

I'll wait, I'll wait, I'll wait... Those words keeping ringing in John's ears as he remembered Dave saying them this morning after breakfast. Just how much was Dave attracted to John? He'd said so himself, that he wanted something more than just sex, but how much more did he want? He wanted to be John's boyfriend? Be in a long-term relationship with him?

And then there was this annoying voice in his head that told him that Dave was - for lack of a better term - a male whore. Sure, Dave wanted him right now, but what would happen when Dave found someone better? Everyone in the hospital knew that Dave couldn't commit to anything or anyone, why would this relationship be any different?

But what if it was? What if he and Dave became a...couple?

What would that be like? John wondered. Would it be much different than having a girlfriend? Sure, it'd be different because Dave was a guy, but besides that? They liked each other, and they got along good, just as a regular couple did. They enjoyed each other's company and had similar interests, too. They seemed to have chemistry in bed, which went along with Abby's crazy "second-date" rule that she'd tried to explain to him one day while walking on the pier together. So why was John so hesitant to get involved in this?

Maybe it was because he'd finally gotten his life in a place where he'd liked it, stable and secure, no problems abounding or on the horizon, and then Dave had just thrown this monkey wrench into it, sending him out of orbit and into some kind of crazy. He'd been very comfortable with his sexuality, thank-you-very-much, until the younger man had come along and opened up a door to another world that John had never even *considered* before. And he was supposed to just give in to it? Just accept it, just like that?

Scrubbing his face with his hands, John let out a sigh when he heard someone approaching. Turning, he saw his grandmother emerge from the house to join him in the backyard. "Gamma?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you doing back so soon?"

"Your grandfather had a heart attack on the way to the mountains," she reported, standing beside him as he quickly put out his cigarette, knowing she didn't like it when he smoked around her. "He's in the hospital."

"Is he going to be okay?" John asked in alarm.

"The doctors think he should be fine."

"Think? They're not sure?" John asked, clearly concerned for his grandfather's health.

"They said he should be coming home in a few days."

"So he is going to be okay?" John asked again. "Are *you* okay?"

"He's strong, he'll be fine," she stated, nodding as she wrapped her thick shawl around her tighter, feeling the chill of the cool fall air. "I'm fine too, just a little worn out. I was going to head up to bed after I saw you, but it seems as if I'll be staying awake a little longer."

"Why's that?" he asked, looking down at her in puzzlement.

"Because it seems you still have your problem hovering over you," she stated, looking up at her grandson. He opened his mouth to protest, but she immediately silenced him. "Don't think you're getting away without talking about it, John. And don't try to deny it either, I know you probably better than you know yourself. And you're going to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you or, so help me God, I'll stand out here with you all night."

Pause. Then: "Doesn't sound like I have much of a choice."

"That's because you don't."

John let out a silent sigh, thinking about how to word this in the best way. Finally: "One of my coworkers came on to me, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship with hi - them - *her*."

"What's holding you back?" she asked, and if she'd noticed his faltering then she didn't show it as she looked into his brown eyes with her clear blue ones that still reflected her youth, no matter what her exterior displayed. "Are you concerned about the difficulties that might occur with it?" John nodded, tempted to pull out another cigarette. "John, every relationship has its problems, no matter who you get involved with. But it seems to me that the only thing holding you back here is yourself, and you'll never find out what could've been by just standing here, smoking your life away. Jump into it, John, before your chance is gone."

The silence between them lasted for several moments. Then, finally, Gamma gave his arm a gentle squeeze before turning to move back into the house. "Good night, John."

"'Night, Gamma," John said, as he looked away from his grandmother and studied the garden before him, unable to respond to her advice. What if she was right? What if he was happy with Dave, the way he hadn't been happy in years? But what if she was wrong? What if this new world that John had been introduced to wasn't right for him? What if...God, what if? What if??

Finally making up his mind, John turned and moved back into the house as well.

-------------------------------

And someday you will see

All the more you want

All the more you'll need me

All the while I'll be on to something more

-------------------------------

Exhausted after dealing with a double shift at Cook County General, exhausted after dealing with doctors and nurses, exhausted after dealing with patients, exhausted after dealing with drunks and addicts and the ungrateful, Dr. Kerry Weaver still had one more matter to deal with before she went home for the night. But she could not, for the life of her, locate Dr. Malucci, whose shift had ended only minutes ago. Had he left that quickly? She couldn't have missed him, she'd been watching the exit to the hospital like an eagle stalking a mouse, waiting to pounce on her prey. Had he used a different exit, knowing she'd be waiting for him?

She hoped that perhaps he hadn't left yet. So she traveled down the halls of the emergency department, searching through exam rooms and curtain areas, bathrooms and staff rooms, just looking not asking if anyone had seen Dr. Malucci in fear he'd get wind of it if he hadn't, in fact, left yet, and elude her, leaving right away. And who could blame him really? She'd been really terse with him earlier. But wasn't she always? She was ashamed to admit it, but she was.

She moved to the Lounge again, doubling back and rechecking each room, but still not finding him anywhere. Shit, he must've left. Pushing open the door to the Lounge, she found Abby inside, gathering her things and getting ready to head out for the night. She quickly ducked out, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

And Abby hadn't appeared to notice her, until: "Dr. Weaver, you've circled the ER twice now. Who are you looking for? If it's Dave, he's already left."

Dr. Weaver turned back to her, unable to hide her surprise. "How did you know I was looking for Dave?"

The nurse turned to the chief, her eyes portraying her genuine concern. "Because I'm just as worried about him as you are," she stated. Her expression then suddenly hardened, but her words weren't edged with anger, as Kerry had expected them to be. "And if you really are that worried about him, maybe you should stop laying into him so much. Whatever is going on with him, it isn't helping."

"Do you know what's going on with him?" she asked, remembering hearing about Abby and Dave going up to the cafeteria - and also hearing about how Dave had skipped John's congratulation party to sleep over Abby's last night, and not in the slumber party kind of way. Perhaps she knew more than she was admitting, because Dr. Weaver had always had the impression that Abby wasn't the kind of woman for a one-night stand, so she could know Dave better than Kerry had previously thought. "I mean...you two are close, right?"

"We are," Abby said, noting Dr. Weaver's tone when she'd asked, the Chief of the ED wondering if they were lovers. "But, no," she replied sadly, wishing that she did. "I don't know what's wrong with him. Dave won't talk to me about it. He won't talk to anyone. He thinks nobody cares, and frankly nobody *does* care. Except for me, maybe."

"I care," was the first thing Dr. Weaver thought to say. But was it because she *did* care, she though to herself, or because it was her job to care?

"He doesn't think so," Abby said. "And your constant harping certainly doesn't prove him wrong."

Dr. Weaver sighed, knowing Abby was right in every sense of the word. She looked up at the nurse, immediately blurting out her previous excuse, but the words sounded lame to her own ears. "Sometimes he just drives me crazy, Abby. Sometimes it seems like he doesn't want to learn, and I end up wanting to grab him and shake him until he listens. He's got to learn. " Abby tossed her a look, as if to say, "You don't honestly believe that, do you?" She sighed again. "Look. I know that I shouldn't yell at him like that, and I know something's wrong. But I can't help him I if I don't know what it is."

"Well, yelling at him isn't going to make him trust you enough to tell you," Abby said quickly. She sighed then, putting her hand to her forehead, briefly looking down before looking up at Kerry again. "I'll make a deal with you. We'll both try to get to the bottom of this, and then we'll take things from there. Once we both know what's wrong, we'll decide what to do then. Okay?"

With a seriousness that Abby had never witnessed in Dr. Weaver's voice in a very long time, she asked hesitantly, slowly, fearfully: "Do you think he'd hurt himself?"

Abby was almost taken aback. And she would've been had that same question not been on her mind as well. "I...I hope not." She paused. "And I'd like to say no, but I'm not sure any more, Dr. Weaver. Hopefully we'll get to the bottom of this before he...does."

"Dave's lucky to have a friend like you," Kerry found herself saying, wishing that sometimes she didn't work so much and had more friends than the few that she did have. And she wasn't sure what she expected Abby to say in reply, but it certainly wasn't what she did say.

"He's lucky to have a friend like you too."

-------------------------------

And all the more you want

All the more you'll need me

All the while I want something more

-------------------------------

Dave unlocked his apartment door, then opened it and stepped inside, tossing his knapsack haphazardly to the side. He turned and closed the door behind him, locking it and then leaning his forehead against it, sighing as he did so. All he wanted to do right now was forget forget forget. But he couldn't even do that, because the ER had been so busy he hadn't gotten any chance to get to his locker and take the Dexedrines to help him get through the shift, or the drug lockup to get the Percocets to help him forget afterwards. God...this day had just about been shitty enough to get on the list of Worst Days of Dr. Dave's Life.

Forgetting was something that desperately needed to happen, and it needed to happen now. Why? Because John hated him. Well, the Chief Resident may not have *hated* him, but he sure as hell wasn't interested in him. Surely, if the older man were, he wouldn't have acted so strangely in the morning. Asking about Abby and if she was offended that he had invited "Dr. Dave" and not her. Why would he be so worried about her if he were interested in Dave? And what was so bad about inviting Dave to the party? Yeah, so he'd seen that look that Eleanor had given him...was that it? He wasn't refined enough to be there? Sophisticated enough?

So he wasn't rich, and he wasn't cultured, and he may not know the right people, but he'd gotten through high school, he'd gotten through college, and he'd gotten through medical school. He'd even gotten through his internship, and he was halfway finished with his residency. And he'd gotten through all of those things not through money and not through whom he knew, but on his own. Could John say that about himself?

Dave suddenly slammed his open palm against the door, a resounding boom echoing through the dark apartment. He was thinking too much, and he was getting angry too much, and he was forgetting too much, but he didn't care too much, either. Today had been another hectic 12-hour shift in the ER, but the only trauma he'd gotten was that girl that had overdosed and knocked charcoal into his eye, which was no longer red from irritation, but it still hurt like a bitch because he'd never gotten those local anesthetic eye drops from Luka.

Luka...God, why couldn't he see that Dave just wasn't interested in him anymore? The young doctor had really cared about him, but his feelings had dissipated once the knowledge of him being used by the older doctor had come. And now Luka thought that since he had feelings for Dave that everything was just going to turn out the way he wanted it to? And Luka didn't even realize how much he had hurt Dave. A month ago, Dave would've taken Luka up on his offer of something more, but now, since his feelings for John had grown into something that he'd never even felt before - something wonderful - he didn't even want to give the older man a second thought.

Dave let out another sigh as he turned once more and scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to clear his head. "Rowrr??" he heard from below, and opened his eyes to see Kermit standing at his feet, before the cat started brushing against Dave's legs to gain his attention.

"I bet you're hungry, little guy," Dave said as he bent down and picked him up, cradling him in his arms as he moved through the living room and into the kitchen, allowing the light from the full moon to guide him through his apartment. He turned on the kitchen light, setting the cat down onto the floor before he pulled open one of his cabinet doors and took out a can of cat food. Opening the can, he squatted down, tapping the can facedown until the food dropped out of it and onto the paper plate. The cat immediately dug into it, his tail up in appreciation, and Dave gave Kermit a gentle pet on his head. "There you go, furface."

He left the kitchen, turning off the light, and moved down the dark hallway and came to the bedroom. He undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, and then moved to his bathroom naked, turning on the shower and stepping inside once the temperature was comfortable.

He stood under the showerhead, the water rolling down his body and loosening his taut muscles. Turning his head towards the water, he felt the hot water hit his face and wet his hair. God, he'd been waiting almost his whole shift to just step into his own shower and finally relax. About an hour later, when the hot water was practically all used up, he finally stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the counter. He dried himself off and wrapped it around his waist, but paused momentarily to look in the mirror before he left the bathroom.

Dave worked out regularly, mostly kickboxing at the local gym and running on his treadmill, so his body was almost perfect, or at least perfect to his standards. He was just about where he wanted to be, and was pretty happy with the way he looked, as vain as that may sound. But despite how perfect his physique was it could never draw attention away from the scars that marred his body. They were deep and clear, noticeable even in the light of the night moon, reminding him every time he looked in the mirror or someone mentioned them just what he'd gone through to obtain them.

John hadn't mentioned them, but Dave knew that he had seen them. He had to have in the light of the Chief Resident's bedroom lamps. But he hadn't said anything, and Dave had been grateful for that. He didn't want to explain in the heat of the moment where he'd gotten them from, something he had to often do with strangers, though he made up different excuses, most of them either a car accident or something of that sort. It had helped that John could guess where they'd probably come from, but it still hadn't made it any easier for Dave to be undressed in front of him. Don't think he hadn't noticed the look of sympathy and pity flash over the older man's eyes. And Dave didn't want sympathy or pity, and he certainly didn't need it.

Running his hands through his wet hair in an act of frustration, Dave saw his kitty watching him from the doorway. "What are you looking at?" he asked it, though received no reply as he moved into his bedroom, finding a pair of boxers and a beater to wear to bed. Once changed into them, he pulled back the bedcovers and lay down, trying to get comfortable and letting out the sigh of contentment he mechanically let out once he was. Kermit jumped up on the bed to join him, curling up on Dave's chest, purring contently as the doctor stroked his head gently. Closing his eyes, he was relieved that he'd gotten through another day, and hoped that he got through tomorrow.

And when the doorbell rang, he realized that his day hadn't ended just yet.

Dave glanced at the clock as he sat up, and clenched his jaw. Twelve o'clock at fucking night, and someone was ringing his doorbell? He'd finally gotten to go to bed after the long day he'd had, and someone was ringing his goddamn doorbell?? Getting up from his bed, he swore to God that if it was one of his neighbors needing something, or the landlord complaining that he'd used up all the hot water, he was going to punch them right in the face, and it was going to feel good.

Grumbling inaudible obscenities to himself, the Junior Resident didn't even bother to grab his robe as he stepped out of his bedroom and into the hallway, Kermit sensing the doctor's rage as he scurried away. Moving towards the living room to the front door, Dave stood before it, unlocking it rather angrily, and swung it open roughly, fist ready to fly into the unsuspecting face of whoever was behind the door.

But no fist flew, and Dave blinked in surprise once, twice, as he saw who was behind the door. Standing there was John Carter, his long jacket open to reveal a thick turtleneck and khakis, looking absolutely gorgeous. But what could he possibly be doing here at twelve o'clock at night?

"It's midnight," was the first thing Dave said.

"I know," John said, nodding as he looked at Dave. The younger man had obviously been sleeping, as he was just standing there in boxers and a beater, his hair mused and damp as if he'd just taken a shower before going to bed. "But I just wanted to..."

"I was sleeping," Dave stated before John could get in another word.

"I...I see that," John replied, slightly stuttering. He looked Dave in the eyes, needing to say what he came here to say, desperate to say what he came here to say. "Look, Dave, I was thinking, and..."

"*I* was sleeping."

"Would you shut up and let me talk?" John asked, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"I'm not interested in talking."

"Fine," John said, nodding, looking down. "Fine...you don't want to talk?"

"No." Dave shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he was taking a chance here, but he couldn't wait any longer for John to come around. If John didn't want him, then talking wasn't going to change anything, it was just going to be a bunch of bullshit that would end in the same result. Dave watched John carefully as the older man let out a sigh, before glancing up at Dave once more, and he prepared for the inevitable.

If he won't let me talk, John thought to himself, then how the hell am I supposed to say what I need to say? He suddenly smiled, knowing exactly how he was going to express what he needed to. Leaning forward, John reached out and took Dave's face in his hands, kissing him hard. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the surprised expression on the younger man's face.

"I guess you made up your mind," Dave said once he regained his thought processes, as he'd been totally expecting to be rejected once more. John simply nodded, a smug smile on his face. Dave found himself smiling too as he pushed the door open further to allow the older man passage. "Would you like to come in?"

John's smug smile turned into a broad one. "I'd love to."

-------------------------------

I want something more

-------------------------------

Dave's bare back hit the mattress softly, John's arms guiding him down onto it in the glow of the moonlight. Both men had removed their clothing on the way to Dave's bedroom, leaving a trail of garments behind them as they kissed passionately, never allowing their lips to leave each other's unless it was necessary, and now all that was left to do was what their bodies and hearts wanted, needed.

Scooting up towards the head of the bed, Dave lay on his back, his head resting against the pillows as John straddled him between his legs, their erect cocks touching each other's and rubbing against each other's at they gently bucked their hips against one another. John leaned forward and kissed Dave on his lips, opening his mouth to allow Dave's tongue inside, and he began to suck on it gently. He'd noted in the back of his mind that Dave had liked it when he'd done that last night, so he didn't even hesitate to do it again, and it paid off when he heard Dave let out a moan of pleasure.

John ran his fingers through Dave's hair, gently tugging at it as he leaned his head back, still moving against Dave, needing some sort of friction between them. Dave tilted his head in the direction John was pulling his hair in, the feeling of John's fingers on his scalp driving him crazy. John moved his hands to cup Dave's face, and Dave turned to kiss one of John's palms, before looking up into the older man's eyes and seeing the intensity in them. God, how much he loved this man.

Love? Where had *that* word come from? Sure, Abby had mentioned something about love during their coffee break together, but did he really love John? But as John moved his hands to brush over Dave's nipples, that thought was totally pushed to the back of his mind if not eradicated from it. Reaching his arm out to his nightstand, Dave opened it and pulled out a tube of lubricant, clumsily uncapping it as he felt John's mouth encase around one of his nipples. "Fuck..." Dave breathed as he twisted off the cap of the lubricant and squeezed some out on his hand.

"I think that's the idea," John whispered as he leaned back again so Dave could reach his member. Dave wrapped his hand around his own penis, coating it liberally with lubricant because he knew John had only done this once before, and he didn't want to hurt him in any way. When that was finished, Dave put more on his hand and warmed it between his fingers to use it on John. Suddenly, John wrapped his hand around Dave's lubricated cock, pumping it slowly and teasingly.

"Stop..." Dave said huskily, breathing roughly as he closed his eyes, a small moan escaping his lips with each breath. "I can't...I can't concentrate."

"What do you need to concentrate on?" John asked, a puzzled smile on his face. "Oh!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed, as he felt Dave slide one finger inside of him. He smiled sheepishly. "That..."

Dave smiled good-naturedly as John's greedy ass just took his finger right in, moving his hips with it each time it slid in and out of him. Soon, John felt two fingers inside of him, and he waited for what he knew Dave was going to do, what Dave loved to do to him, but even when expecting it, John gasped in surprise and closed his eyes as he felt the younger man brush over his prostate, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Opening his eyes, he saw Dave watching him carefully, making sure that John was enjoying himself. It was almost as if he got pleasure by *giving* John pleasure, and none of John's lovers had ever been like that.

Finally, three fingers were easily sliding in and out of John, and Dave knew that it was time to move on to the real thing. Removing his fingers from John's ass, he placed both hands on John's waist and guided him carefully to his erect cock, which had been ready and waiting rather impatiently, pre-cum already dripping from it. Getting the drift of what Dave wanted to do, John lowered himself over Dave's cock, remembering to relax and moaning in pleasure as he felt Dave inside of him, a feeling that John loved and hoped to never get used to because it was so unique and he'd never felt anything like it in his whole life.

As Dave started thrusting against John, the older man took Dave's hands in his own just as he'd done the night before, holding them tightly as the two men started moving in harmony. An idea came to John's mind as Dave raised his hips off of the mattress once more to thrust against him, and the next time Dave moved to do that, John lifted himself higher, disabling Dave from moving higher into him. And the younger man raised his hips even higher, but John just lifted himself higher.

"That's not fair," Dave said, frustrated, as John smiled mischievously. Trying again, he once again failed, and immediately pouted, looking oh-so- very cute to John. Then, suddenly, Dave smiled mischievously, and he pulled John's hands down, pulling John down as well, and started thrusting again.

"Cheater," John said with a smile as they regained their rhythm once more. When John felt Dave grasp his hands tighter, he knew that the younger man was going to go over the edge soon, so he removed one of his hands from Dave's to pump his own cock, hoping to time it perfectly so they would come at the same time, just as they had the night before. But when Dave saw this, he slapped John's hand away, and the older man looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"You don't touch that," he said, wrapping his own hand around it, causing John to gasp in pleasure. He started pumping it himself, twisting and tugging and jerking him off better than John could do himself. And through his pleasure, he barely heard Dave say: "It's mine. You're mine. All of you. Forever. God, you're mine, John, you are mine..."

And when words turned into intelligible phrases, when breathing became harsh and rapid, when thrusting became quicker and more intense, when eyes closed and heads were thrown back, when the world faded and nothing was left but two men in this moment, here and now, John and Dave came almost perfectly in tune with one another, hard and fast and screaming in pure ecstasy.

When it was over, John collapsed against Dave's chest, the younger man's cock sliding out of him, leaving him to only want more, and Dave reached over to the nightstand with one hand, grabbing some tissues out of the box. He guided John to his side, cleaning up both of them with the tissues, and then discarding them by balling them up and placing them on the nightstand to be thrown away later. Then, Dave wrapped his arms around John, holding him close, once again touching the scars on his back gently with his fingertips. No lover John had had touched his scars at all, let alone like *that*, and it sent a chill up his spine.

"Does it still hurt?" Dave asked quietly.

"Sometimes. Lately," John replied just as softly. He could see Dave's questioning eyes in the light of the moon, which was shining through the open curtains. "I was going to lunch with Abby at Doc's a few weeks ago when I slipped in the street and fell."

Another chill passed through John's spine as Dave caressed his scars. The younger man looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry. Does that hurt when I do that?"

"No," John stated. "No one's ever done that before, and...just the way you do it..." He broke into a sheepish smile, almost embarrassed to admit that he could melt under another man's touch. Dave just simply smiled softly.

And, lying side by side, wrapped in each other's arms, touching each other's bodies with their hands gently, eyes sliding closed in exhaustion, Dave said: "You know, this is the second night in a row we fall asleep together, like this."

His eyes closed, John simply kissed Dave on the lips tenderly, the kiss saying everything without John having to make a sound. And Dave was listening to every word he wasn't saying. "Goodnight, Dave."

"Goodnight, John."

And for the first time in a long time, David Malucci fell asleep with a smile on his face.

-------------------------------

I want something more than this...

-------------------------------

------------------------------------- Chapter Nine: Somebody Else -------------------------------------

Can't change this feeling

I'm way out of touch

Can't change this meaning

When it means too much

-------------------------------------

At this point and time in his life, John Carter was very, very confused. There were some things he wasn't sure about, some things that he was, and there was one thing that he definitely knew, but he wasn't sure if he particularly liked it.

One thing that John was sure about was that since the stabbing, he hadn't felt safe. There was always a feeling in the back of his mind whenever he entered the hospital - especially when he entered Curtain Area Three - which he couldn't exactly place. Relationships had gone awry because of this feeling; he never felt comfortable with his lovers, always felt as if something could happen, something like what had happened to him almost two years ago this coming Valentine's Day, destroying everything. He didn't allow that to happen the only way he could: he stopped the relationship.

He didn't go from one woman to another or anything like that, it was usually just a cycle. It would start out fine, he'd finally be glad that he found someone, and then a month or so later, this feeling, that stupid feeling, would creep up on him, invading his mind and drowning out his optimism about the relationship, and he'd have to end it before anything serious could happen.

With Dave, he felt safe. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe. That had to mean something, didn't it? It had to mean that this wasn't just some sort of experiment, some sort of walk on the wild side for him. He hoped that Dave felt the same way, because he wasn't sure if he could handle this experience and have the reputed lady-killer throw him away as soon as he was finished with him.

John rolled over, wrapping himself in a type of cocoon with the linens, feeling an emptiness that wasn't much unlike the one next to him in bed. Ever since Dave had left for work that morning from his apartment, he couldn't stop thinking about the man - and not just now, but since they'd first slept together, which had been weeks ago. He just couldn't get him out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. God, it was like when he was using drugs again, but this time Dave was the drug, and he was addicted again. He wondered what it all meant. He'd never done this sort of thing before, so how could he possibly know? He'd usually go to his Gamma for advice, but the risk of her having a heart attack and keeling over right then and there when faced with this particular problem.

His grandmother...now, she was a factor that would have to be dealt with sooner or later, probably more sooner than later, since she was beginning to become suspicious. Lately, John had been away from the mansion more often, sometimes seeing Dave in between their shifts at the hospital, and spending nights at his apartment. And as they saw each other every chance they got, and as the nights John slept over occurred more and more often, she was beginning to ask questions.

"When are we going to meet her?" she'd even asked casually one morning at breakfast.

"Who?"

"Your new girlfriend," was the simple reply, and John had almost choked on his scrambled eggs. He'd quickly managed to duck out of it, explaining that they weren't too serious about each other yet and he didn't want to have her meet his family until he knew they were in fact serious, and Gamma had let it slide - for now, he knew it was only for now. Eventually, if this thing lasted, which was the real question at hand here, she would ask him again, this time refusing to take no for an answer. Then he would be able to ask for advice, unless she *did* keel over and die of shock.

So for right now, he'd have to simply wing it and just go with the flow. And, for now, he liked the flow. If it wanted to take him somewhere, he would go willingly. Just where it would take him was the real question. This was one of the things that he wasn't sure of.

He was, though, sure of some things about Dave, little things that he'd discovered while spending time with the younger man. Dave loved to cook, making everything from simple burgers to fancy things like filet mignon. And he was good at it too. And John loved to watch him cook, loved watching the way his hands moved deftly over the stove, the way Dave slightly swayed his hips to the music he would play on the stereo while he did so, sometimes humming softly and sometimes singing, his voice beautiful, like a mating call, managing to summon John from any room in the apartment.

Dave also gets up in the middle of the night, puttering around the house, either cleaning or reading or watching television, or some other such thing. John had first found this out when turning over in bed, and feeling only the cold mattress. He'd gotten up and ventured out into the apartment to find Dave sitting on the couch, reading a medical text.

"Hey, Dave," he'd said, pulling his robe tighter around himself. Dave looked up from his book, smiling. "What are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't sleep," he'd quickly replied, closing the text and placing it on the coffee table. "What about you?"

"Got lonely," he'd said, sitting down next to Dave on the couch, curling his long legs underneath him. Dave yawned then, arching his back, and as his robe opened a bit, John caught sight of a scar on his chest. John knew the reason why Dave woke up in the middle of the night, sometimes out of breath, sometimes screaming, and why he generally stayed awake until odd hours of the morning. Once, he'd even asked what the nightmares were about, but Dave had made light of it, saying that they were silly and not worth talking about, brushing it off. But when John had persisted, he'd snapped that he just didn't want to talk about it. Ever.

And Dave was right: he didn't want to know, because he knew that whatever made Dave wake up in the middle of the night every night, drenched in sweat and screaming in terror, had to be horrible. So John had taken the easy way out and dropped it. And that was the end of that.

John groaned, turning in bed once more. It just wasn't as comfortable without Dave in it, but it was still far too early to get up and do anything; it was only six o'clock in the morning. He figured that he could feed the cat as he promised Dave he would, and then go home, but he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay here, until his half-shift started. And, yes, he had some clothes over here, along with some toiletries. He remembered when Dave had brought it up during dinner one day:

"You know, John..." he'd said casually, throwing some spices over the chicken cutlets he was cooking over the stove. John had looked up from the kitchen table, where he was drinking some soda, watching Dave cook. "Instead of having to go back to your house in the morning, why don't you just bring some stuff over here? Doesn't seem right to make you go all the way home if you want to spend the night, you know?"

"Sure," John had replied, though he wasn't sure why. This had been about a couple weeks into the...relationship? Could John even call it that? So, John hadn't actually known why he'd said yes in reply. But he did know that he'd been delighted that Dave had even suggested the idea, even as he wondered what was happening to him, to *them*.

Tonight though, John's half-shift started a half-hour after Dave got off. Dave had realized their dilemma while getting ready for work that morning, in search of something to wear, and he'd begun to mope about how by the time Dave came home, John would have to leave. John had simply smiled from his cocoon in the bedcovers, watching Dave scramble around the apartment, rushing before he was late, and had told Dave that he would leave early, and meet him at Doc's, and they could enjoy a late lunch or early dinner, depending on how you looked at it. He smiled now, glad to know that he'd be able to spend some time with Dave today.

Finally finding a position that he was comfortable with, John curled up into a fetal position, inhaling the scent of Dave from the covers. Dave had the most incredible scent. He closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh, burying his head into the pillows as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Oh, wait, that's right. What was the thing that John was definitely sure about but wasn't sure if he particularly liked it?

He was falling in love with David Malucci.

-------------------------------------

Never been so lonely

Never felt so good

Can't be the only one

Misunderstood

-------------------------------------

"Gina, stop that!"

"I'm not Gina!"

"Tammy, sorry."

"I'm not Tammy!"

"Well, whoever you are, just stop it! You're giving me a headache!!"

"Mommy gets headaches a lot."

"It's no wonder why!" Dave snapped at the little girl standing before him. She stopped pounding on the instrument tray table with a piece of metal that one of her brothers had broken off of an IV pole, and immediately burst into tears. Dave sighed, picking her up, and she began to get tears and snot all over his scrub top. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm just a little worn out, that's all. Don't cry, okay? Please stop crying?"

He held the crying six-year-old in his arms, his eyes closed as he rubbed his temples with his free hand, attempting to rub away his growing headache. During his shift, he'd encountered this family of seven - six kids and one exhausted mother. One of the children had fallen and cut up his arm, and Dave had been the unlucky doctor to be assigned to suture him. To make things worse, Abby, being the people person that she was, offered to take the mother to the cafeteria, because the poor women never got a break from her children. So, of course, Dave had naturally been stuck babysitting six screaming, whining, disruptive brats.

"You jerk!" That was the only warning he got before a swift kick to his shin. He turned to Gina's - Tammy's - no, *Eliza's* nine-year-old brother with surprise, wondering just what the hell that was for. "You made my sister cry!"

"I'm gonna make you cry in a second if you don't start behaving like a human being!" he said, something catching his eye in the corner of the room. "Tommy! Get out of that cabinet and you better put those down or I'm going to staple them to your head!" The boy immediately dropped the four-by-fours, running away from them before the mean doctor carried out his threat. Another kick. "Hey! Stop that!"

"You leave my brothers and sisters alone!" the little boy - whose name Dave could not remember for the life of him - said defiantly, his arms crossed over his chest. "You aren't our mother and you can't tell us what to do!"

"Kid, you are *lucky* I'm not your mother!" Dave said, aiming a threatening finger at him. "If I was I swear to God, I'd - " Suddenly, the little girl in his arms let out a sneeze right in his face, and he gasped in surprise as he closed his eyes, opening them once more to see the six kids laughing at him. He glared at the little girl in his arms, biting back a string of obscenities that would make a sailor blush. So instead, he said a simple: "Bless you."

"Thank you," Eliza replied sweetly, smiling innocently.

"You're fucking welcome," he said, losing his composure slightly. Almost instantly, the children gasped and pointed, giggling as they offered "Oohh's," otherwise interpreted as, "You're gonna get in trouble!" He sighed, rolling his eyes, and then checked his watch before turning to Eliza with a strained smile. "When Abby gets back here, she's going to get it."

-------------------------------------

I remind myself of somebody else

-------------------------------------

A few hours later, with the brats safely at home where they could no longer be a menace to society, Dave sat at the Admin desk, his headache a full-blown migraine by now. And, just his luck, a couple of those brats had been sick, and the Junior Resident had now caught the cold they'd been harboring. Great, Dave thought as he sneezed - and then proceeded to do so several more times.

"Would you stop it already?" Randi snapped from the other side of the admin desk, looking up from her Vogue with annoyance.

He glanced at her incredulously. "Shut up. As if I can help it?"

"Hello," Randi said, holding her hands out as if to show him his surroundings. He briefly looked around before returning his gaze back to her. "You're a doctor, and you're in an ER. Diagnose yourself, take something, and you'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Jeeze, Randi," Dave said sarcastically, standing. "I'm surprised you aren't a doctor yourself."

"Someone has to keep this place in working order," she said, shrugging, returning to her magazine.

Dave began to walk towards the drug lockup, smiling as he shook his head. Yawning deeply as he stepped inside, he glanced at his watch to see that his shift was over. His smile broadened as he remembered that John was going to be waiting at Doc's for him. He hadn't seen the older man since about five o'clock this morning, when he'd woken up to the alarm clock with a groan, having to work the morning shift that day, and he was glad that he'd finally get to see him after twelve hours of hell in this place.

"What're you smiling about?" he heard. He glanced up to see Abby restocking, balancing a large box on her hip.

"I'm off," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in the doorway. From the other doorway into this drug lockup, Luka entered, his eyes glancing over the two before quickly shifting to the cabinet, where he searched for some medication or another. Dave had only spoken with him briefly lately - when it was necessary - and from rumors he'd heard that the Attending was leaving for Bosnia soon, to spend a few months there for a Doctors Without Borders program. And Dave also knew that when he left, some much-needed space between the two would finally occur.

"Hey, Luka," she said to him, and he offered a small smile in response. She glanced at Dave, grinning. "That'd make anyone smile. I've still got nine hours left in this place. That reminds me: Are we still getting dinner tomorrow?"

It wasn't a rarity to see Abby and Dave grabbing a meal together, or hanging out outside of work. Over the course of the last few weeks, since they'd first shared a coffee in the cafeteria and she'd offered him wise advice, they'd become close friends, understanding each other, getting along with each other, and generally having a good time with each other. But this wasn't something that Dave wanted discussed in front of Luka, especially with rumors abounding that Dave was seeing the Attending's ex-girlfriend. Don't think he hadn't caught that brief look that Luka had given him just now.

"Uh...yeah, sure," Dave replied, rubbing the nape of his neck nervously. He caught Abby's eye, and she nodded subtly towards Luka. Dave nodded, answering her unspoken question of what was suddenly bothering him. "I just came in for some Benadryl before I left."

Reaching for the Benadryl, he caught sight of the Dexedrine. He still had a couple pills at home in his medicine cabinet, just sitting on the glass shelves behind his bathroom mirror. He furrowed his brow in thought, thinking about how John was at his apartment all day, and spent a good amount of his time there. What if he found them? Dave had snuck a few pills from the drug lockup over the past few weeks, but perhaps he should take those tonight just in case, so that there would be no chance of the Chief Resident finding them.

You could throw them away, his alter ego suggested as he took a couple Benadryls to ward off his oncoming cold. But at least if he did take them, then he'd have a little pick-me-up, some staying power in bed tonight, and it wouldn't be such a waste. And he could use a little pick-me-up after a day like today in the ER, especially after those six bratty kids.

Dave quickly said goodbye to Abby, and exited the drug lockup at that moment, suddenly in a better mood - but a bit unnerved as to why, though he allowed that thought to stay at the back of his mind.

-------------------------------------

Feeling like I'm chasing,

Like I'm facing myself alone

I've got somebody else's thoughts in my head

I want some of my own

-------------------------------------

"You two are close, aren't you?" Luka asked Abby as soon as he felt Dave was out of earshot. He'd heard the rumors about the two being involved, but at first he hadn't believed them. Then, he'd begun to see how Abby and Dave had slowly become friendlier with each other, too friendly for his liking. And after their exchange in the drug lockup just now, he wasn't sure if he didn't believe it so much anymore.

"Yeah," Abby replied as she pulled out a bottle of morphine, checking it off on her inventory and placing it on the shelf with the rest of them, pretending she hadn't heard that strange tone in Luka's voice.

"Closer than friends?" he asked as calmly as possible, though Abby sure as hell couldn't pretend she didn't hear that slight edge in his voice.

She turned to face him, glaring. Since the rumors had started, many coworkers had been warning her about Dave, especially people like Jing-Mei and Chuny, stating that sleeping with guys like him was just asking for trouble. Over lunch, she remembered telling Dave about it, and they'd both laughed it off, though she could see in his eyes that he'd finally realized the truth: those same people like Jing-Mei and Chuny didn't think much of him. And it had affected him greatly, and she knew that it had hurt his feelings more than he would let it show. Dave was a good person, and he didn't deserve to be treated like a chauvinistic pig or an egocentric whore.

"I don't think that's any of your business," she said as politely as possible.

"Excuse me?" He turned to face her, surprise written all over his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to say, certainly hadn't expected *that* kind of an answer. She kept her glare fixed on him, her lips pursed. "Abby, I'm just trying to - "

"Trying to what?" she snapped. "Warn me? Because I've gotten enough of that from the rest of the staff. You know, Dave's a really great guy, and you and the rest of them would see that if you just got to know him."

"How well *do* you know him?" Luka retorted, his annoyance rising.

"Better than you ever will."

"Oh really?" Luka asked, his brow furrowed in anger. "Then I guess you know that Dave likes his men as much as he likes his women?"

"What?" Abby asked. She shook her head, hardly able to believe that Luka would stoop to say something so low. "Whatever, Luka, I'm not going to stand here and argue with you, you don't even know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" he asked her as she stormed from the room, leaving him alone in the drug lockup, his jaw clenched. He leaned his head against the open door of the cabinet, sighing. Dave and Abby were a couple, his ex-girlfriend and his ex - his ex-what? Fuckboy? Certainly not boyfriend or lover, they'd never gotten that close.

And that brought another thought to his mind: What had happened to John Carter? Had the Chief Resident backed out of the relationship as soon as he'd jumped into it? Had the he done the same thing Luka himself had done? Possibly missed his chance, just as Luka had? Perhaps Dave had misled him into believing that he was after John just so he could go for Abby without Luka intervening, knowing that the Attending still had some sort of feelings towards the woman?

Well, whatever *had* happened, Abby was still right, and he knew it. He hadn't gotten to know Dave, like she had, and now she had him, and he didn't. And their relationship only reminded him more and more of what he'd lost: both Abby *and* Dave.

He hated them all.

-------------------------------------

Can you see me up here?

Would you bring me back down?

Cause I've been living to see my fears

As they fall to the ground

-------------------------------------

John sat inside Doc Magoo's, checking his watch to see that it was already a few minutes past Dave's shift. It was late fall/early winter, which meant that the sun was already set at this time of the evening, but the lights of the hospital and ambulances illuminated the street, allowing him to glance outside to see if Dave was approaching the diner. After being unable to spot the Junior Resident, he rested his cheek against an open palm, studying the menu as he did so.

Growing considerably anxious after he'd decided what he would eat and drink, John glanced out the window once more: Still no Dave. Looking back to the menu, he found himself once again wondering what was happening to him. Every moment of his life seemed to be enveloped by Dave, and when Dave wasn't with him, that's all the Chief Resident thought about. And every time he found himself wondering this, he also found himself thinking that he could be falling in love with Dave. And if he wasn't falling in love yet, he sure knew he wasn't far from it.

This arose another question that John dreaded: Was Dave really serious about this? Was John just another fling for Dave? Or was this something that was going to last? John sure wished he were one of those people that could live in the here-and-now right about now, but he couldn't help but think about the future, *their* future.

He glanced around the diner, watching couples flirting and chatting, and he wondered why he couldn't be one of those people. Why did he have to be different? But he was happy, dammit, he could at least say that. With Dave, he was happy. Were *those* people really happy? Did it really matter how different he was if he was happy?

"Hey, handsome," he suddenly heard, and nearly jumped out of his skin. Dave slid into the seat across from him, smiling broadly, and, without even knowing it, John suddenly found himself smiling as well. Dave shrugged his jacket off, placing it on the seat next to him. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, I got tied up. God, I feel like shit so I took an Benadryl before I left."

"You're getting sick?" John asked, just as a waitress in one of those ugly pink uniforms came over, offering coffee. John nodded, as did Dave, and she immediately filled their cups before heading off to pour some more cups of coffee for other customers. "Thanks. What do you think you have?"

"A cold," Dave replied, glancing over the menu as he leaned an elbow on the table, proceeding to rub his temple with his forefingers as he'd done earlier. He glanced up at John with a small smile. "And a headache. My shift was hell. Can you believe that for an hour I was stuck babysitting six bratty kids? I know I can't."

John smiled. "Did Weaver put you up to that?"

"Ha!" Dave said, leaning back in his seat. "No, but that wouldn't have been surprising. Hey, listen, John..." The waitress came back around to take their orders, interrupting what Dave had begun to say. When she left after Dave ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries, and John ordered a club sandwich and fries, the younger man leaned forward. "When's the next day you have off?"

"Wednesday."

"Damn," he muttered, leaning back again, this time in defeat. He looked up at the older man, pouting in that oh-so-very cute way that he could. "I've got Friday off. Maybe I could trade with Cleo..."

"I'll switch the days on the roster," John said quickly. Dave and he hadn't had a day off together in the few weeks that they'd been seeing each other, and it sure would be fun if they did. He knew Dave still had some tricks in bed hidden up his sleeve, as the younger man had put it the other night, and he'd love to see what exactly he did have hidden. He also knew that during these few weeks they'd been together, Dave had only fucked him, and he'd love to get the chance to return the favor.

Dave smiled broadly, and John smiled back. "I guess sleeping with the Chief Resident really *does* have its advantages!"

"Dave, keep it down," John hissed, leaning forward as his smile suddenly disappeared, his brow furrowing while he glanced around the restaurant. Jesus Christ, what if someone overheard what Dave had just said?! It didn't look like anyone had, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen the next time Dave decided to blurt it out.

"What?" Dave's brow furrowed as well, as he also glanced around the diner, wondering who could've overheard anything that John didn't want them to. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks: everyone. He looked back to John. "Oh. You don't..."

John didn't want to come out yet. John had always seemed distant and withdrawn at work or out on the town in places where they knew people. Dave had assumed that he just hadn't wanted to draw attention to them, knowing from experience what harassment two men in a relationship could get. But he didn't think that John would be afraid if complete strangers overheard, like the people surrounding them now. They'd never actually talked about this, never actually talked about anything meaningful like their feelings or coming out, but Dave guessed that that was all right for now. Eventually, they would. Unless...John wasn't *ashamed* of Dave, was he? No...John wasn't the kind of person to base things on class and money...but his peers were...his family. But that didn't matter to John, did it? John just wasn't ready to come out, that was all. He gave John another small smile, this one reassuring, though he wasn't sure if it was for John's sake or his own.

"Sorry," Dave said with a small smile. "I didn't realize..."

"That's okay," John replied, leaning back in his seat, the tension leaving his body as the waitress came over and placed their meals down in front of them. "Just...don't let it happen again. I mean...try to be careful, Dave...discreet. You can be discreet, right?"

"Sure," Dave said, holding his hands up to brush it off, giving one of those casual shrugs that John knew meant more than it seemed. He watched Dave look away from him and to the street outside, and then back to him, smiling. But his eyes always gave away his emotions, which is probably why he'd turned away in the first place - he didn't want John to see just how hurt he really was.

-------------------------------------

I remind myself of somebody else

-------------------------------------

With John having already left to start his shift at County General, Dave Malucci exited Doc Magoo's, snow gently falling but melting quickly in the wet street. He glanced up at the night sky, remembering winters in New York when he was a child, building snowmen with Miranda and then dressing them up in scarves and hats and mittens, because girls didn't like to have snowball fights, but she was his best friend so he helped her just to please her. And, then, of course, having a snowball fight with Miranda because he wanted to, and he was her best friend so she did it just to please him. He smiled as he watched the snowflakes fall onto his open palm, wishing he could have those fun times back again; his life was rarely that fun anymore.

Sighing, he crossed the street, dodging any oncoming ambulances rushing to get to the ER as he moved to the bicycle rack. It'd be a long ride home in this biting weather, but John would be with him in a few hours, and nothing could possibly be that bad when that reward would come soon. What it was a reward for, Dave didn't know, but he did know that he sure as hell didn't deserve someone as special as John.

Kneeling down next to his bike, he began to unlock the chain when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Taken by surprise, he spun as he stood upright, apprehensive with fists ready to fly because any type of psycho could wander to this dark corner of the ambulance bay.

"Luka," he breathed, relief washing over him. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," he said, but he didn't even sound remotely apologetic, and the fire in his eyes indicated that he certainly didn't *feel* apologetic either. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Dave narrowed his eyes, hesitant as to why Luka would approach him...in a dark corner of the ambulance bay. Stupid thoughts, he said silently to himself. Don't think like an idiot. But John's inquiry a few weeks ago hadn't been that far off: on some level or another, Dave *was* afraid of Luka. He knew that he could easily beat the older man in a fight, probably cause serious injury if he wanted, but Dave also knew that when he was a teenager, he could've easily beaten his father in a fight, probably cause serious injury if he wanted. But he hadn't. When people were afraid, they didn't think straight, and they didn't have enough wits about them to defend themselves.

But why did Dave always associate Luka with his father? Luka was not a mean person by nature, and before the huge fight that the two had had, ending their relationship for what he'd thought had been for good, he'd seen the good in him. It'd been what had drawn him to the Attending in the first place. But Dave couldn't help but see Luka's sporadic brusqueness and be reminded of his father. Dave couldn't help but see Luka's anger in an argument and be reminded of his father. And Dave couldn't help but see Luka's sudden - and sometimes violent - temper, and be reminded of his father. And he knew that Luka was not a bad person, was almost nothing like his father, but he couldn't help it.

"Is there something you wanted?" Dave asked, turning towards his bike again to finish unlocking it. But Luka reached out and grabbed Dave's arm, stopping him from moving any further. Dave looked up at Luka now, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's your problem?"

"I just saw you in Doc Magoo's with Carter," Luka stated, his words edged with anger. He'd been standing outside in the ambulance bay, waiting for a trauma to arrive, when he'd noticed the two across the street, sitting at a booth by the window, talking, laughing and - he could even see it from across the street - flirting.

"Yeah, so?" he asked, yanking his arm out of Luka's grip. "We had lunch, what's it to you?"

"What is this to *you*?" Luka asked, his expression showing his disgust. "A game?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked, because he sure as hell would like to know.

"You're seeing Carter on the side, is that it?" Luka asked, stepping closer to Dave, and then recognition crossed Dave's face, and everything clicked, and he knew exactly what Luka was talking about. "You're dating Abby, and you're cheating on her with Carter? This is fun for you, to play with people's feelings like that?"

"Abby and I...John's..." He stopped, suddenly looking up at Luka defiantly. "My life is none of your business."

"When it deals with people I care about, it is," he stated, placing his open palms on Dave's chest, shoving him against the bike rack.

"Don't fucking touch me."

"Why? What are you going to do about it?" Luka asked harshly, grabbing Dave's collar and yanking the younger man towards him. Dave managed to repress his gasp of surprise, though he couldn't stop his heart from doing ninety miles per hour. Luka stared Dave down, standing flush to him. "Hurt her, and I'll hurt you."

He shoved Dave back against the bike rack once more, turning sharply on his heel and walking away from the Junior Resident, who immediately straightened out his shirt and jacket. He licked his dry lips, running his hand through his hair and then grasping at it, wondering just what the fuck he was going to do.

-------------------------------------

Feeling like I'm chasing,

Like I'm facing myself alone

I've got somebody else's thoughts in my head

I want some of my own

-------------------------------------

Several hours later, when the events of an almost-slip at lunch had dissipated in his mind, and all that was left was the fact that he'd seen Dave, John Carter was driving home after his half-shift, listening to the rock radio station, humming to the music and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. In such a great mood, he'd barely noticed that he'd called Dave's apartment "home." It was, in fact, where he'd been practically living for the past few weeks, so he might as well. Perhaps he and Dave could get an apartment together, a nicer and roomier one. But it was too early to think about that yet, he wasn't even sure if this thing was serious or not yet.

But what Abby had said earlier to him in the Lounge ran through his head, as it had been doing all day, over and over again, and the smile that had been plastered on his face then was still on it now, from just thinking about the exchange.

* * *

"Hey, John," she had said, leaning against the locker next to his as he sifted through his own, trying to find his car keys in this mess. His shift had been finally over, and he could finally go home - to Dave. And, yes, he'd even referred to it as home then.

"Hey, Abby," he'd replied. "As soon as I find my keys, I'm out of here, so if you need help with a patient, I'm going to refuse right now and save you the time of asking."

"No, listen, I just wanted to ask you a question," she said, and John glanced at her expectantly out of the corner of his eye. Gotcha, he thought as he felt the cool metal of his keys reach his fingertips. "You and Dave are close, right?"

He went still.

"What do you mean?" was the slow reply.

"Well, everyone's noticed how you guys have become friends over the past few weeks," she replied, eyeing him suspiciously. What was suddenly up with him? "You're a good influence on him, you know."

"Right," John said, a billion thoughts running through his mind. Everyone noticed? No one thought anything of it though, did they? Lots of people in the hospital were close friends, right? No one cared...Dave and John didn't share public affection, except for the occasional joking innuendo offered by either man, similar innuendoes that they offered other staff members. Should they stop those so no one would think too much of it and find out about them? He suddenly remembered Abby standing beside him. "So...what's your question?"

"Oh, right," she said, getting back on track. "Do you...happen to know who he's seeing?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"He mentioned her at lunch a few weeks ago," Abby stated, "but he wouldn't tell me who she was, only that I'd met her. And his clues other than that were pretty vague, though I hear it's going well."

"She?" He immediately regretted saying that as soon as he had. Shit, how could he let that slip? It'd just surprised him that Abby had referred to who Dave was seeing as a woman, though he wasn't sure why. Certainly Dave wouldn't tell Abby he was seeing a man. He quickly recovered, pulling out his keys quickly and closing his locker door, then turning to face her. "I mean, what else did he say about her?"

"All he told me," she continued, and if she'd noticed his sudden surprise, she hid it very well, "was that she was smart, funny, good looking, special, and rich. And the only person I can think of is..." - here it came - "Jing-Mei. You don't think he's dating *her*, do you?"

"No," John said, compressing his sigh of relief. He grinned, instead. "I think she made it clear long ago that he had no chance with her. Moreover, rumor has it that the lucky lady is *you*."

"Oh, please..." She waved off the suggestion, shaking her head as she did so. "I'm sick and tired of hearing about that already. Half the hospital is warning me and the other half is asking me if he's really as great in bed as he says. Besides, I'm not rich."

"Hey," John said, laughing. "Four outta five ain't bad."

* * *

Special, John thought now, nearing Dave's apartment. Dave thought he was special. But just what did special mean? Always the question coming to mind, he thought to himself. What kind of relationship did he have with Dave? Were they friends who had sex or were they more than that? He knew he cared about Dave, but did Dave honestly care in that way about him? He recalled Dave explaining to John that he wanted something more than just sex, but did they really have anything more than that?

He furrowed his brow, thinking of all the times Dave had showed affection for him in other places besides the bed: Those soft smiles that John only got to see, the gentle caresses, the sweet kisses, the stolen glances, and that flicker of mischief in Dave's eyes when the younger man was up to something.

That was surely more than just sex. That was a full-blown romance, the same kind John had had with a few other women before. So why was it so hard for John to be able to think of it as serious? Because it was with Dave? God...all this thinking was causing him to overanalyze everything. He'd just simply have to ask Dave about this later.

Pulling up to Dave's apartment, he shut off the Jeep and stepped out, grabbing his knapsack and threw it over his shoulder, locking the Jeep and then heading up the front steps. He stepped inside, heading up the stairs rather than take the elevator, but only because the elevator was out of order, and from what Dave had told him, it'd been broken for several months and probably would be for many more. A new apartment was just looking more and more appealing by the moment.

John soon reached Dave's apartment, finding the door open, something Dave did when he knew John was coming over. The Chief Resident stepped inside and threw his satchel to the side of the door, where Dave kept his own knapsack that he brought to the ER daily. As he was removing his jacket, he could hear the shower running, but he could also hear music gently flowing through the air. But...it was classical music. Since when did Dave listen to anything besides Metallica or The Red Hot Chili Peppers?

"Dave?" he called out into the apartment, loosening his tie around his neck until it undid itself and hung around his neck. He began unbuttoning his shirt, getting ready to change into some sweats for bed. He stepped into the bedroom, which was directly across from the bathroom. "Is that you?"

The glass door slid open, and Dave stuck his head out for a minute, smiling broadly at John from across the hallway. "Last time I checked," he replied, before closing the door again and finishing up his shower.

John shook his head, smiling. So Dave listened to classical music in the shower. The man surprised John more and more every day. As Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" began wafting through the air, John stripped off his shirt, throwing it into a nearby laundry basket before pulling off his pants and then his undershirt, until he stood in only his undershorts.

Quite unexpectedly, and therefore taking him by surprise, John felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, and a pair of full lips make contact with his neck, sucking gently at first, then biting and flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin, leaving a perfect love-bite so no one would mistake it for anything other than that, letting everyone know that John was taken, even if they didn't know by whom. He felt Dave press against his backside, feeling the slickness of Dave's hot wet skin from his shower - and also feeling the raging hard-on that the younger man was sporting.

John turned in Dave's arms, looking down into the younger man's eyes, smiling as he ran his hands over Dave's body, the fact that Dave's skin was still wet and warm from the shower causing him to gain a raging hard-on of his own. Dave moved one of his hands to cup the side of John's face, and John turned slightly towards it, taking Dave's thumb into his mouth and sucking on it gently. Over the course of their brief relationship, John had only given Dave a blowjob once. He remembered that both men had been very drunk that night, and that it hadn't been mentioned the next morning, or ever again. John had thought at the time he'd been giving it that he wasn't doing that bad of a job, especially since Dave had been moaning and almost begging for more, but he had to assume so now, since that was the only reason he could think for it to be brushed over like that. It wasn't to say that he couldn't get better with a little practice...but only if Dave would let him try.

Dave's fingers were now hooking at the rim of John's boxers, pulling at them playfully, a smile on the Junior Resident's face. But something was off about Dave tonight, and John couldn't quite figure out what it was. He pulled his mouth away from Dave's fingers, pausing to ask: "Have you been drinking, Dave?"

"No..." he said, keeping that smile. He bit his lip, looking down before looking back up at John from under his brow, his voice almost singsong as he said: "I want to fuck you."

"Oh really?" John asked, grinning, standing flush to Dave, knocking his hard cock against Dave's, draping his arms over the younger man's shoulders. Dave's smile broadened as he nodded, his eyes full of mischief and hunger, his fingers just itching to act out upon it. John leaned in close to Dave's ear, a thought coming to mind, and while he ran his fingers on one hand through Dave's hair, he whispered: "But when am *I* going to get a turn?"

"What?" Dave asked, his tone abruptly sharp and terse. He placed his hands on John's waist, moving him at arm's length, the Junior Resident's handsome face contorted with a sudden anger that John hadn't been expecting. "What do you mean: 'get a turn??' You don't 'get a turn.' You think this is some kind of game, where you 'get a turn??'"

"No! That's not what I meant!" John said hastily, as Dave let go of his waist and took a few steps back. Why was he suddenly so upset? "I just...I mean...all this time, you've been...fucking me, and I just thought that I might be able to return the favor, that's all."

This only seemed to make Dave angrier. "Return the favor? Return the - John, when I do things for you, it's because I want to, not because I expect you to 'return the favor.'"

"I know that, Dave," he said, trying to find the right words so he wouldn't make Dave more upset than he already seemed to be. "I just want to be able to pleasure you too..."

"Well, I don't get pleasure out of that!" Dave yelled as he began to pace around the room.

"I do," John replied honestly, watching Dave carefully. And certainly Dave had to know that too, from the many nights of passion they'd shared, from the many nights John had screamed out, begging for more.

"Good for you."

"Have you ever even tried it?" John asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing that pride could be an issue in all this. Perhaps Dave hadn't let another man do something so invading and intimate to him, and he might be scared. Now, of course, the bravado that was David Malucci would never admit to that. But perhaps with a little coaxing and encouragement, John could get Dave to try it. After all, John liked it, so that had to be some sort of reassurance that Dave could possibly like it too.

"Yes!" Dave hissed, throwing that idea out the window. His words were too vicious for this conversation that should've never escalated to this. Why was he overreacting like this? There had to be something more to it than just pride, John was sure of that now. "I didn't like it. And I won't do it. So shut up about it."

"Fine..." John said, his eyes narrowing as he realized he was treading into unknown - and sensitive - territory. David Malucci's life before their relationship had started was still very much a mystery to John, still as much so as it had been a few weeks ago, in fact. But he could concur one thing: someone had taken advantage of him. What exactly had happened, he wasn't sure, but that thought alone upset him almost as much as Dave was upset now. He tried to offer some sort of reassuring words: "But just because you didn't like it then, doesn't mean you won't like it now."

"John..." Dave said, an odd tone in his voice that was somewhere between distress and weariness. He sat down next to John, his hands in his lap, his eyes lowered. Glancing at Dave, John could see that his hands were shaking, and Dave tried to cover it up by folding his hands and continuously fidgeting with them. He paused for a moment before looking up and at John, his desperation in his expression. "Please...just...just drop it, okay?"

John nodded, trying to understand this. And he suddenly recalled all the times he'd tried to touch Dave's most sensitive areas, and all the times that Dave had discreetly pulled away, distracting John while doing so, so he wouldn't notice. How could he - over the course of being intimate with the younger man for nearly a *month* - have missed the fact that Dave didn't like to be touched? No wonder why the only time he'd been able to give Dave oral sex was when the younger man was so drunk he was falling over.

* * *

He could remember the day that had happened about a week ago. Dave had been having a terrible day at work when a little girl had come in from a car accident, needing surgery. Her mother and father had died at the scene, and she was terrified inside Curtain Area Three, crying hysterically, and no matter how hard Dr. Corday or Dr. Finch tried, they could not calm her down. But Dave had stepped in against their orders thinking he would only worsen the case, talking to her soothingly, reassuring her that her mother and father were safe and she'd be safe too. He'd bonded with her within minutes. When she had to go up for surgery, she'd begun to cry again, but Dave was right there, promising her that he'd be waiting for her when she woke up, and then she'd been rushed away to the OR with hope and optimism in her eyes.

But she'd never woken up.

And, even though destined to be in a vegetative state for the rest of her now meaningless life, Dave had sat with her, waiting, waiting for hours, waiting until after his shift was over, just watching her, sometimes whispering to her words too low for anyone else to hear. Several doctors and nurses approached him, asking him if they could get him anything or do anything, and he'd just shaken his head, never taking his eyes off of the girl, always thinking of how he'd let her down, lied to her, broken his promise. He always broke his promises...

After his own shift was over, hours later, John walked up to Post-Op, watching Dave briefly through the window of the door before pushing it open and stepping inside. The younger man didn't even look up as John approached him, his expression showing his remorse. When John placed a hand on Dave's shoulder, the younger man flinched and looked up in surprise, not even realizing he'd been there.

"My shift's over," John stated, and then he indicated the door. "Want me to take you home?" Dave glanced at the little girl regretfully, as if he didn't want to leave her. "Dave, you can wait here all you want, but she isn't going to wake up," John said gently. He knelt down next to the younger man, catching his eyes and seeing the sadness in them. "If anything, you offered her comfort when she most needed it, and if that's the best thing you can do, then you did your job right."

"So lying to her is the best I could do?" Dave asked, finally saying something. John was about to comment when he continued: "Yes, that's what I did, don't try to convince me otherwise. I lied to her, John. I promised her that she was going to be okay, and I told her that her parents were okay. I lied to a dying little girl. That's not the best I could've done." He looked away briefly. "I could've..."

"Could've what, Dave?" John asked gently, his expression soft. "You weren't the surgeon, you couldn't help what complications occurred in the OR. You're not God, you can't control what happens, and you just have to accept that." Dave just sat there in silence, crossing his arms over the rail of the bed and resting his chin upon them, watching the little girl again. "Are you going to come with me?"

"No," he replied quietly. "But I'll be home soon."

Taking that as an invitation, John waited at Dave's apartment for him, keeping himself busy by watching television but unable to concentrate on anything that was on. He kept glancing at the clock, the minutes going on like hours. At three AM, four hours after he'd left Dave at the hospital, John got up and got dressed, locking up the apartment and driving to County, wondering if maybe Dave had fallen asleep during his silent vigil. But up at Post-Op, he'd found that Dave hadn't fallen asleep, he wasn't there at all. And the girl was gone too.

"Hey, Shirley?" John asked the nurse who was running the station at the time. "Have you seen Dr. Malucci? I left a few hours ago and he was here, but now he's gone..."

"Dr. Malucci?" she asked, glancing off as she tried to connect the name to a face. She suddenly looked back at him, her finger raised. "The young guy who was watching the car accident victim. An aunt came in and took the girl off the vent, and he called it about an hour ago. Left right after that. As for where he went? Sorry, but I can't help you."

"Thanks anyway," he said, heading out to his car.

"Did he know the little girl?" Shirley asked, stopping John in his tracks.

He turned back towards the nurse. "What?"

"Did he know the little girl?" she repeated, more slowly this time.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, the way he just sat there and held her hand. I mean he read her books even though we all told him that she probably couldn't hear him," she said, remembering how awkward it had been for them to approach him and offer him information he probably already knew. She sighed. "When the aunt came in, he took his time with her and held her while she cried. She gave permission to disconnect life support but said that she couldn't watch her die, so she asked Dr. Malucci to stay until it was over, and he agreed. Then when he disconnected the vent and called the time of death, I went over to do the death kit, but he shooed me away and did it himself. He was so loving with her, even after she died..." She looked up at John, whose expression told her that he knew there was more. "When he left, he looked like he was crying. So I just figured he knew her."

"No, he didn't know her, Dave just loves kids," John said, remembering how close Dave had also bonded with that boy that had come in about a month ago after being abused by his father. That had also equally upset him, perhaps even more so because they shared a similar abusive background. "Thanks Shirley, I'll see you."

John walked to his car in a fog, thinking about what Shirley had said. Dave always took cases like those with kids hard, always. He sat inside for a few minutes, letting the car warm up in this winter weather, wondering where on Earth Dave could've gone. Perhaps he was home now, maybe John had missed him on the way over. But Shirley had said he'd left an *hour* ago? Where could he have gone at two o'clock in the morning? He smacked a palm for his forehead, the thought coming to him with a roll of his eyes. "The Game Room."

The Game Room was Dave's favorite bar. He knew the bartender and knew the regulars there. It was where he'd first taken John out for a drink, and where he continued to take John out for a drink often. He arrived there in about ten minutes, parking right outside the door. He caught sight of Dave's blue bike leaning against the wall nearby, which was pretty foolish because it could easily be stolen, so he hung it up to the back of his Jeep and secured it there before stepping inside of the bar.

His eyes scanned the still busy bar, even at this time in the morning, and he located Dave sitting at the bar by himself, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache while he took another long swig of his drink. John approached him, sitting down on the stool next to him, but Dave didn't even recognize his presence.

"You said you were going to be home soon," John said. Dave turned towards him with surprise. "That was over four hours ago."

"Shit. You scared the fuck outta me, John," Dave breathed. He'd been sitting by himself the whole night, other customers clearly knowing when he wanted to be left alone to drink. His eyes landed on the clock on the wall, but he couldn't focus on it, squinting in vain as he tried to get the numbers to clear. He finally turned to John. "What time is it?"

"A quarter after four," he replied, eyeing the four empty beer bottles and shot glass in front of Dave. Even though he knew that Dave could handle his liquor well, no one could handle that amount of alcohol in an hour. But still...he seemed drunker than he should be. "Come on, let's go home. It's late and I have an early shift."

"Shit, I thought it was earlier than that," he said burying his face in his hands and then rubbing his eyes, blinking hard to try to regain his focus. But he didn't want to go home to that shithole he lived in yet, he wanted to get drunker and *then* go home. "Let me finish my beer," he said, reaching for it. His hand jerked suddenly, knocking the glass bottle over, and the golden liquid ran over the counter and dripped onto the floor. But I only had four beers and a shot, Dave thought to himself, knowing from plenty of drinking games won in college he required a lot of alcohol to get intoxicated. And although he had a lot in a short amount of time, he knew that the Demerol he'd taken before leaving the hospital had helped speed up the process. He glanced up at John, a stupid smile on his face. "I'm drunk."

"Yes, I can see that." John nodded with raised eyebrows, using some nearby napkins to clean up the spill Dave had made. He glanced at the bartender, putting down twenty dollars to cover for the beers and the mess. "I'm sorry, but can you clean this up? Dave's had a little too much to drink, and I think I need to get him home."

"No problem," the bartender replied, using a dishcloth to wipe away the mess as he picked up the twenty-dollar bill. "You have a nice night, guys."

"You too," John replied, and Dave smiled lazily, totally smashed from the alcohol. The younger man stood hesitantly, unsteady at first but regaining his bearings in a few moments. John watched him carefully as he led him out of the bar to make sure he wouldn't fall, and then helped him get into the Jeep. He buckled him in, but before he could back away, Dave pulled him close and kissed him hard, his tongue running over John's closed lips. He reached inside John's loose jeans' pockets, briefly feeling around before he found his goal, but John pulled away quickly, surprise written all over his face. He held up a finger. "Dave..." he warned, glancing around, making sure no one had overseen that. "Discreet, remember?"

Dave just simply smiled and leaned back in his seat, licking his full lips. John sighed as he shook his head, closing the Jeep door. He circled around the front and climbed inside, leaning back in his seat to reach inside his pocket for his keys. His brow suddenly furrowed as he searched his other pocket, and then he sat there for a moment, perplexed.

"Where are my keys?" John asked himself out loud, checking to see if he'd left them in the ignition. No...then where could they be? He heard a jingling sound from next to him, and turned to see Dave holding up the keys, his smile now playful. John sighed once more, reaching forward. "Give me those." Dave pulled them back away from him, and John leaned forward more, but Dave continued to pull them away, giggling as he did so. "Dave, give them to me."

"Make me," he challenged, mischief in his eyes. John glanced at him with exasperation, making a final reach for the keys, but Dave pulled them just out of his reach, and the younger man took that as an opportunity to kiss him once more, this time pushing his tongue between John's closed lips, running it over his teeth and gums. John began to kiss him back, but it was only to distract Dave while he grabbed the keys and pulled back once more. Dave pouted. "No fair. You cheated."

John smiled as he started the car, putting it into the right gear and heading towards Dave's apartment. Halfway there, he felt Dave's hand on his knee, and, glancing down, he could see it traveling up his leg, his fingertips gently trailing over the denim and to his crotch, which was steadily growing a bulge. He tried to pull his knee away, but it was hard to do so while driving.

"Stop it," he said, but his cock obviously had other intentions. He briefly glanced away from the road and to Dave, who was also touching himself, and John shifted in his seat, trying to get his hard-on to go away by sheer will. He brushed away Dave's hand quickly. "Wait until we get home, okay?"

Another smile, and then Dave closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, one hand still cupped lazily over his crotch, between his splayed legs. John forced himself to concentrate on the road and not what was sitting next to him, and within minutes they were home. Now, getting inside was going to be the real problem. So, after some stumbling and a little effort, John finally led Dave inside the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him, securing the place for the night. He barely turned around when Dave was pinning him to the wall, kissing him hard as if there were no tomorrow, knocking his hard cock against John's.

"Dave," John managed to get in. Dave was so drunk he could hardly stand, and John was afraid he was going to fall and hurt himself. "Dave, wait, let's get to the couch at least, okay?"

Without parting lips, the two made it to the sofa, Dave sitting back and John straddling him. And, in between kissing, Dave managed to get out: "John" - kiss - "I don't" - kiss - "think I can" - kiss - "take care of you tonight." Another brief kiss, before John pulled back with questioning eyes. "I'm so fucked up, John," he said, remembering the Demerol he'd taken, plus the four or five beers he'd drunken. "If we even attempt to have sex, I think I'll fall over right on my face and kill myself. Or I'll pass out right on my face and kill myself." He suddenly smiled. "I might even puke. And that won't be pretty, especially if I puke on you."

Without discussing it further, John leaned in and began kissing Dave again, hard and passionately. It was an incredible turn on to be the one in control for once, and see Dave vulnerable while he called all the shots. Occasionally - okay, so most of the time - John and Dave engaged in tonsil hockey, just kissing and teasing each other senseless, especially when they were in a hurry or didn't have time for sex. And Dave had said he was too drunk to be able to engage in any type of sex tonight, so this would suffice just fine. Well, John thought, there was *one* type of sex that they could have...

He broke away from Dave's lips, leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw. "Where are you going with those lips?" he heard Dave ask as he hovered over the delicate olive skin of the younger man's neck just long enough to leave a perfect love bite. He moved down Dave's chest, kissing him through the fabric of his shirt before kneeling down in front of him, settling between his open legs. Dave glanced at him in puzzlement. "What are you doing?"

"You said you can't take care of me," John stated with a shrug, "so I'm going to take care of you."

"What?" Dave asked, the alcohol consumed causing his thoughts to be slow and fuzzy. Only when John began to unbutton Dave's jeans did he understand what John wanted to do, and he immediately shook his head. "No, don't. I liked what we were doing before."

"You'll like this a lot more," John said with a smile, slowly unzipping Dave's pants.

"John, don't..." Dave closed his eyes, memories invading his mind that he didn't want to remember. *You'll like it, Davey. You will like it...* No room for argument then. But, opening his eyes, he knew he could argue here. He had control here. He placed his arms on John's shoulders, gently holding him back. "You don't have to, really."

"I want to," John said, looking up at Dave as he unbuttoned Dave's boxers. Why was Dave so opposed to this? Was it because he knew John had never done it before, and he thought that he might not enjoy it? He could at least let John give it a try. "Come on, Dave. Let me do it because I want to."

*You'd do it if you loved me...*

"No," he said, shaking his head vigorously. He tried to sit up and out of John's reach, but the older man grabbed his cock, which - despite what he was feeling - was hard. Dave gasped at the contact, surprised. "John, please don't..."

"Just relax, Dave," he said, using his free hand to push Dave back onto the couch so that he was leaning back and gave John more room. "Just relax and enjoy it." He suddenly smiled. "I'm sure you'll tell me if I'm doing anything wrong."

*You're doing it wrong, Davey, you're not listening to me...*

"I'm sorry," Dave whispered too quietly for John to hear, and he gasped audibly as he felt John's mouth surround his cock. Dave closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and his heart racing as he felt that silky throat and that wicked tongue on his erection. And it felt good. Too good. It was wrong, it wasn't supposed to feel good. Christ, it wasn't supposed to feel good! "God, John, this isn't right...but it feels so good...wait, stop, you're not supposed to do that...stop..."

John closed his eyes, listening to what Dave was saying as he sucked on Dave's cock. So it wasn't right, but it felt good? Perhaps Dave wasn't into this sort of thing, maybe he'd never tried it before. But he was saying that it felt good, which had to be a sign that he was enjoying it. John heard Dave moan, his breathing becoming faster and faster, and he knew Dave was going to come soon, so he prepared himself. He wasn't going to ruin this now that he'd gone this far. Within moments, Dave came in John's mouth breathless, and John managed to swallow. Leaning back, he looked up at Dave expectantly, whose head was tipped back and facing the ceiling, eyes closed.

"Dave?" he said, waiting. The younger man opened his eyes, slowly looking at John, his eyes glistening. John furrowed his brow, his expression worried; Dave didn't look very happy or even satisfied, he looked...traumatized. "Dave, what's wrong?"

"It wasn't supposed to feel good," he whispered, looking away but staring at nothing.

"What?" John asked, confused.

"It wasn't supposed to feel good..."

"I don't..." John started, but trailed off, not sure what to say. Dave was expecting John to do badly, and now that he hadn't, was he surprised? But that didn't explain why Dave looked as if he were about to burst into tears. "What do you mean? Did I do it wrong? With some practice, I can - "

"No!" Dave exclaimed, tucking himself back in his boxers and pants, and then zippering himself back up. He stood abruptly, knocking John back onto his butt, but could barely stand himself, nearly falling down and needing to grab onto the couch to gain balance. Once slightly steady, he quickly moved away from the couch and tried to get to the bedroom, but only if he could stop the room from spinning.

"Dave, stop, you're going to hurt yourself," John said, standing hastily. He approached the younger man and reached out to him, trying to help him steady himself so he wouldn't pass out or fall onto his face and kill himself, as he'd predicted before. But upon touching him, Dave flinched and spun around, tripping over his own feet and falling hard onto the floor, hitting the back of his head and getting the wind knocked out of him. "Dave!"

"Don't touch me," he pleaded, trying to sit up on his own, but the room was still spinning, and he couldn't hold the floor steady. John reached out and helped Dave sit up, whose feeble attempts at getting John to leave him alone weren't working. "Please, don't...it wasn't supposed to feel good, it's wrong...it's so wrong, so bad...I'm so bad, so dirty...just...oh, God...I'm sorry, but I don't want to...go away, please...stop...I...I..."

"Dave, what the fuck is going on?" John asked, his eyes wide with fear. Dave was acting crazy, hysterical. Perhaps he was drunker than John had thought, and maybe that combined with the fact that he really didn't like getting blowjobs might've contributed to this behavior. The younger man suddenly put his hand to his head, moaning, and within moments his eyes slid closed and he was limp in the older man's arms. For an instant, John thought that he was dead, but when he checked his vitals, he saw that Dave was just passed out. "Jesus Christ..."

Too worried to sleep after he'd managed to get Dave undressed and into bed, John watched Dave sleep, watched the younger man's chest rise and fall, watched the younger man toss and turn, and even talk at some times, but the words were inaudible and unintelligible, though John knew whatever was happening in his subconscious was not pretty.

The next morning, Dave had woken with a terrible hangover and lump on the back of his head from where he hit it, immediately taking two Aspirins and drinking lots of water with it. John had woken up a few minutes later, asking Dave if he remembered what had happened last night.

"No," Dave replied after briefly mulling the thought over.

"Really?" John asked, almost incredulously, his mind racing with thought. From the look in the Junior Resident's eyes, he could tell that he'd been lying about the fact that he didn't remember anything. But why would he do something like that? Was it because he'd been embarrassed about his behavior? But that still didn't *explain* his behavior? Perhaps Dave couldn't himself, so maybe he'd said he didn't remember to avoid the subject. He looked up at Dave, his eyes full of doubt. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Dave said lightly, shrugging. "Don't remember a thing."

But he did remember, he remembered everything that had happened right down to the last moment when he'd passed out. And he still felt so dirty that he immediately took a shower, as if that would wash away the feelings right down the drain.

He only wished it were that easy.

-------------------------------------

Am I hiding behind my doubts?

Are they hiding behind me?

I'm closer to finding out

It doesn't mean anything

-------------------------------------

Now, a week later, Dave smiled thankfully at the fact that John would not ask anymore questions about the sensitive issue of Dave not liking to be touched intimately, and John returned the gesture, his eyes traveling downwards to see that the younger man was still at half-mast, almost causing his own cock to spring to life. Dave then reached up to touch John's cheek, leading him towards his lips, encasing them in his own, and he pushed his tongue through John's closed lips and into his mouth, needing to feel his cock inside of John's ass, which had readily regained it's previous hard-on.

They lay back on the bed, on their sides, still kissing, their arms wrapped around each other, and Dave began thrusting his hips against John's. Between the rough kissing and the rough thrusting, John was getting harder by the second, if that was even possible; this was a side of Dave that he'd never seen before, and it turned him on. That wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy taking it slow and steady, but this quick pace and brusqueness was a delightful surprise.

They scrambled up the bed near the headboard, and Dave grabbed John's arm, turning him expertly onto his back, straddling the older man between his knees. He took John's wrists in his hands, raising them above John's head and pinning him down, then leaning in and kissing him hard, leaving both men panting when he pulled away. Glancing up at the younger man, John could see that there was a fire in his eyes that he hadn't witnessed before, an intensity that sent chills up and down his spine.

Dave thrust against John's hips once more, arching his back and tipping his head back as he did so, a low moan escaping his lips. John tried to thrust against Dave, but with Dave sitting on top of him and holding his arms down, he couldn't move very much. It was somewhat scary to let Dave have all of the control, but he knew that Dave would never hurt him, that it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He'd said so himself.

The Junior Resident's eyes strayed from John for a moment, searching the nightstand for the lube that he kept there. He had to let one of John's wrists go to reach it, but he didn't want to let the older man go just yet...there was something about having total control that drove Dave wild, that almost made him *loose* total control over what he was doing. Some people liked the roughness that came with it, but some of Dave's former lovers did not. John seemed to be enjoying it, so it was a double-bonus for him.

Placing both of John's wrists in one of his hands, he held tight to make sure the Chief Resident could not move them, and then he reached for the lubricant, uncapping it with his teeth and then spitting the cap to the side of the bed. Dammit...to do this right, Dave would have to let go of John's wrists...he couldn't do this with only one hand. So, he finally let go of John's wrists, squeezing the gel into his hand and warming it up a bit before moving his fingers to John's ass.

John had seen Dave's hesitancy in letting go of his wrists, so he kept them where Dave had been holding them - on the bed above his head - and he watched as Dave rubbed the lube between his fingers, warming it up. Without the least bit of warning, John suddenly felt Dave thrust his finger into his ass, surprising him so much he gasped. He felt Dave moving his finger in and out in long, slow strokes, and soon another finger joined it, and then another, each stroke triggering his prostate and sending waves of pleasure through him.

"You like that, don't you?" Dave said huskily, his voice barely recognizable to even himself. He watched John carefully as he thrust his fingers in and out, getting off on John's pleasure. His cock was leaking already, but he knew that he had to stretch John first before he could enter him, or else he could cause the older man serious injury. Finally, he felt that John was stretched enough, and he pulled his fingers out, grabbing his already lubricated cock and putting himself in the right position. "Well, you're gonna like this a lot more."

A low, guttural moan escaped Dave's lips as he slid inside of John in one quick thrust, feeling the older man's tightness around him, his cock enveloped by John. God, he loved this feeling, the feeling of being inside of John and feeling John surrounding him and taking him inside of him. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would feel like if their positions were switched, but he quickly pushed that thought aside after immediately getting sick to his stomach, and with another hard thrust it was totally eradicated from his mind.

"Dave..." John grunted as he felt another hard thrust from Dave. He was being a little *too* rough now, and it was beginning to hurt. But Dave either ignored him or hadn't heard him, because he kept thrusting vigorously, picking up the pace as he did so, nearing his climax. But if Dave wouldn't - or for some reason *couldn't* - listen to him, John couldn't even stop him, because Dave was straddling him and had begun to hold his wrists down again. "Dave, you're hurting me. Slow down, you're hurting me."

Whatever John was saying, the words weren't even reaching Dave's ears. He was lost, lost beyond words in what he was doing, lost in the thrusting and lost in the feeling of John around him and lost in the control. So gone he couldn't come back until he was finished - and maybe he didn't *want* to come back. Hard thrust after hard thrust, faster and faster, feeling himself going over the edge, wanting to come but unable to just yet, needing to come, God, he needed this relief after the day he'd had, the week he'd had, the life he'd had.

"Dave, you're hurting me," John said, grimacing, wishing that Dave would open his eyes so that maybe he could catch them and bring Dave back from wherever the hell he was. He could tell that the younger man was close to coming: his breathing was harsh, near hyperventilation, and he was moving faster and faster. But he hadn't come yet, it was taking him longer than usual for some reason. And John had totally lost his erection long ago, when Dave had begun to thrust too hard. It was too much already. "Dave, stop. Dave, you're hurting me, stop. Dave, stop! Dave...!"

What was John saying? It didn't matter, it didn't matter, all that mattered was thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, harder, God, harder, needing to come, needing to come, needing it, he needed it so fucking bad, and then finally, finally, finally with one final hard thrust, he came hard and fast, screaming as he did so, his head dropping to his chest. And it felt so good, too fucking good to be right, but he didn't care, right now all he wanted was to be wrong.

John lay totally still for a moment, his eyes screwed shut and a grimace on his face, pain ripping through his body. He felt as though Dave had split him in two. He finally remembered to breathe, and opened his eyes once it was over, watching Dave's motionless body lying on top of his. When he finally regained thought processes, he said quietly, "Dave?" The younger man opened his eyes and glanced up, and John halfway expected Dave to be surprised to see him there; he'd been so wrapped up achieving release that John didn't think Dave even knew he was there. "What the fuck just happened?"

"Sorry," he said immediately, pulling out of John and moving off of him and across the bed, deliberately putting distance between them, though John wasn't sure why. He watched Dave cross his arms over his stomach and curl up into a ball, sniffling as he took one arm away from his stomach to scratch the back of his neck. "Guess I got carried away..."

"A little," he said, the sarcasm apparent in his voice. Something had just happened, but he wasn't sure what. "Where did you go just now?"

Silence.

"Dave?" John reached out a hand into the darkness, his wrist stinging slightly from the pressure that Dave had exerted on it, and he touched the younger man's shoulder apprehensively, but there was no response. He called Dave's name again, but, again, received no reply. He was out cold; perhaps he *had* been drinking...but why would he lie about it?

Sighing, rubbing his stinging wrists, John turned his back towards the younger man and closed his eyes, wishing for sleep to come and knowing that it probably wouldn't anytime soon. He was too worried about Dave to rest; something was defiantly wrong with the younger man. And tonight proved it.

Now, John had always known that Dave had a bad temper, and he'd seen it many times, but Dave had never been anything but loving and gentle with him, especially in bed. So what had happened tonight? Was it simply a case of Dave having too much to drink? But wait...Dave had said that he hadn't had anything to drink at all. Had he lied? He had to have, because he was defiantly under the influence of something tonight. But why would he lie about that? And John had certainly had sex with Dave when he was drunk before, and it'd never ever been like *that*. If anything, Dave was more submissive when he was drunk, less in control than usual.

Perhaps it had been the conversation about John penetrating him. That had freaked Dave out, and now it was freaking out John too. He was shocked that it'd taken him so long to realize that Dave didn't like to be touched. But why? Did John really want to know? Would Dave even ever tell him? It seemed as if it was a memory that Dave wanted to forget and not mention at all, but even if he'd achieved that in his consciousness, his subconscious - his dreams - weren't ready to forget just yet.

Proving so was just how restless Dave was in his sleep right now: tossing and turning, moaning softly sometimes. Full of worry and unable to sleep, John leaned over and turned on the light on Dave's nightstand, turning to watch Dave sleep. The bed sheets had slid down Dave's chest, and John caught sight of those terrible scars again. But there were new marks...not scars but something else. Upon closer inspection, John could see that they were scratches. But why would Dave scratch himself so heavily?

Before John could mull over that question any further, Dave let out a short scream and shot up in bed, his body beaded with sweat and his eyes wild, searching the room but unable to focus on anything. John jumped in surprise, but quickly recognized when Dave had had a nightmare.

"Dave," he said gently, knowing that if the nightmare had been bad he might not know where he was, so he hoped his voice would bring Dave to reality. "Dave, are you okay?"

"I...I don't feel well," Dave said, clutching his stomach as he rushed out of bed and ran to the bathroom, tripping over the bed sheet and nearly falling as he did so. John quickly followed him, watching as the younger man knelt in front of the toilet and proceeded to vomit violently, his body shaking with each heave.

John reached for a washcloth, wetting it with cold water before kneeling down next to Dave, rubbing comforting circles on the younger man's back while he finished throwing up. The Junior Resident wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, moving away from John to slump against the wall. With the washcloth, John wiped the sweat from Dave's brow, hoping the cool cloth would make him feel a little better. He must've been sicker than John had previously thought.

"Come on," John whispered, gently moving the cloth to Dave's cheek and neck. "Let's get you back to bed."

Dave barely registered the cold cloth against his skin. John was being so gentle with him, and just hours earlier, he'd treated the older man as if he were nothing more than a fuckboy to fuck, not a lover to love. How could John care about him so much? He didn't deserve it...hell, he barely deserved living.

"Dave, let's go back to bed," he repeated, watching Dave for a reaction. The younger man looked up at John with eyes that the Chief Resident barely recognized: they were wild and frightened, full of fear and anxiety. And then he quickly looked away, breathing heavily. "Dave...?"

"I..." Dave started, whispering, barely able to get the words out. He looked up at John again, licking his dry lips. "I hurt you tonight."

"It's okay, Dave," John reassured him. "I'm not hurt."

"No! No, it isn't okay!" Dave suddenly shouted, running his hands through his hair, grabbing and pulling with a scream. He moved one hand down to his chest, scratching it again, scratching at the fucking itching that wouldn't go away, scratching so hard he drew blood. "Fuck! It isn't okay!!"

"Dave, stop it!" John yelled, his eyes wide as he grabbed Dave's wrists, stopping him from pulling out his own hair and clawing at his own chest. Jesus H. Christ, what was going on here? Dave was certainly not only drunk and certainly not only sick, that was for sure. "Dave, did you take anything tonight?"

His head snapped up to look at John, his heart skipping a beat. "What?"

"Did you take anything," he repeated, more slowly this time.

"Cold medicine," Dave answered quickly, scratching again. "I...I told you that already."

"Did you take more than you were supposed to?" John asked as he grabbed Dave's wrists once more. "Stop scratching!"

"I can't!" Dave cried. "It itches!"

"Why?!"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed. But he did know. He knew exactly why. It was because of the two Dexedrines he'd taken combined with the amphetamines in the cold medicine, side effects: dry mouth and throat, nausea, and itching when you'd taken too much.

"Dave, did you take more than you were supposed to?" John repeated urgently, checking Dave's pulse. Shit, it was racing! He knew right then that Dave was having a reaction to whatever he'd taken; he was showing all the symptoms of a minor overdose, something that wasn't life-threatening but potentially dangerous.

"A little," Dave lied. What the hell was he supposed to say? That he took two Dexedrines with two Benadryls?

"Shit," John muttered, his head dropping before he raised it again to look at Dave, watching him carefully. God, the man looked like Hell. "I think you're having a reaction to it."

"What?" If Dave's heart was racing before, it was galloping with anxiety now. He was having a reaction? What kind of reaction? Was he overdosing? He looked up at John, licking his dry lips again. "I...I..."

"Shh..." John said, helping Dave to his feet. He led Dave into the bedroom, allowing the younger man to put most of his weight on him. "I'll help you get dressed, and then we'll go to County."

"What?!" Dave shouted, suddenly pushing John away, who glanced at him with surprise. God, this was almost too much to handle. If Dave didn't calm down soon he was going to call an ambulance and get him to the hospital with help if he couldn't do it by himself. "I don't - I don't need to go to the hospital! I'm fine!"

"Dave, you're having a reaction to the medication!" John said, taking a step towards the younger man. "We need to get a tox screen and treat you! You could be overdosing, for God's sake!"

"No!" Dave yelled. He instinctively took two steps away from John when he stepped towards him, and John saw the unmistakable look of fear in Dave's expression and in his eyes, so he froze in place. Then Dave began pacing the room like a caged animal, pleading with John. "I don't want to go...I told you, I'm fine. I'm fine, John, I just..."

"Okay, Dave," John said, holding his hands out, stepping towards Dave slowly and cautiously. "We'll stay here, but you need to calm down, okay?"

"I'm tired, John," Dave suddenly said, looking up at the older man with glistening eyes. John stopped moving towards him, waiting for Dave to elaborate, though it was unnecessary. He knew that Dave didn't mean he wanted to go to sleep. The younger man buried his face in his hands for a moment, and John was almost sure he was going to cry, but Dave looked up instead, his eyes portraying his desperation. "I'm so fucking tired."

"I know," John said, approaching Dave, remembering Dave in a similar state a few weeks ago, when he'd talked with him in the Lounge after he'd been caught by Dr. Weaver having sex in the back of an ambulance with a pretty paramedic. Then he'd been worried, but now he was worried sick. Could it possibly get any worse than this? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

John reached out to Dave, gently touching his shoulder, but the younger man flinched and pulled away, startled. John reached out again, and this time Dave did not startle in surprise, and he led the Junior Resident to bed, covering him with the bed sheets. He rolled up in a ball again, raising a hand to scratch at another itch when he saw John watching and thought better of it. The Chief Resident then moved to the other side of the bed, glancing back at Dave before he turned out the light.

"Are you all right now, Dave?" he asked softly. Upon receiving no reply, John raised his head off of the pillow. "Dave?"

He was passed out again. John's eyes shifted to the phone. Perhaps he should call the hospital and get an ambulance... He checked Dave's vitals just to reassure himself that Dave would be fine right here, but he kept the light on and watched Dave for a long time before finally giving in to his heavy eyes and turning it off, falling to sleep as well.

-------------------------------------

I remind myself of somebody else now

-------------------------------------

A scream. A throaty, bloody scream of pure terror ripping through the night, tearing the silence in two and mutilating it until it was gone. It awoke John almost immediately, his heart beating in his chest as if it were trying to escape, and he sat straight up in bed, turning to where the source of the scream was coming from: Dave.

He looked to the younger man, expecting to find him being brutally murdered in bed by an intruder who had somehow broken into the apartment without them waking. Instead, however, he saw that the younger man was, in fact, still asleep, being tortured by a nightmare that often visited him in his dreams. But never like this, never in such a way that John had awoken fearing for Dave's life.

"Dave!" He placed his hands on Dave's shoulders, gently shaking him in an attempt to wake him up. The Junior Resident's body was slick with perspiration, and John's hands nearly slipped off of Dave's shoulders. "Dave, wake up!"

"No!" Dave moaned, though it wasn't a response to John's command, but a response to whatever was happening to him in his dream. "Please, stop...please, let me go...!"

"Dave, it's me, John," he said urgently, shaking Dave harder. He squinted his eyes, trying to see in the darkness, and upon closer examination he saw that it was not only sweat on Dave's face, but also tears. God, what could be happening in his nightmares, the nightmares that he would not share with John or anyone else? "Dave, please wake up! Dave!"

"Let me go!" Dave whimpered, his voice desperate as he tried to push John away from him. Dave, though, sleeping and seeing someone else besides John in his dreams, reached out blindly, and he ended up grazing John's jaw with his hand. John pulled away in surprise, turning back to Dave with his hand to his face. He grabbed him again, this time shaking him hard. "Christ! Wake up, Dave! Get up! Get up!!"

"Stop it!" Dave screamed, sobbing. His eyes flew open, but he still fought against John, not recognizing where he was. "Please, just stop it!"

"Dave!" John said, reaching over and turning on the light. "Dave, it's just me, it's just John. It's John, Dave...it's just me. You're safe, you're safe..."

He took the younger man in his arms, forcing him to stay still. At first, Dave struggled, but soon, he clutched at John like a life buoy, sobbing openly into his chest. John began to rock him back and forth, rubbing soothing circles on his back, hoping that he was comforting him as much as he could. He'd comforted Dave like this many times since they began sleeping together, but no nightmares had ever been this terrible, had never been this violent and scary.

The cries died down, and then there were a few moments of silence, and then finally, John said: "Dave...? Are you all right now?"

"Yeah..." he said, his voice hoarse from sobbing. The Junior Resident sniffled, pulling away but not out of John's arms, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. He leaned the side of his face on John's shoulder, regaining his composure. "I'm sorry about that." He suddenly laughed, but there was no humor in it. "And that's not even one of the worst I've had."

"It's okay," John said, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He wished that he could ask Dave what the nightmare had been about, but Dave had specifically asked that John not ask, so he didn't. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night for a long time. Then: "You were alone before, Dave. And now you're not. So nothing can be that bad anymore."

Dave looked to John's face, which was slightly visible in the darkness, and he smiled softly before hugging John tightly. "God, I wish I could believe you, John. I really do..." There was a pause and then. "Thank you," he whispered into the older man's ear. He sniffled again, taking in a shaky breath before disentangling himself from John. He cleared his throat, wiping away his tears quickly, suddenly embarrassed about his outburst. "We've both got early shifts tomorrow...let's get back to bed, okay?"

"Sure," John said, sensing Dave's discomfiture. He pushed the covers aside and stood, his bare feet touching the carpet as the cold of the winter night and a poor heater reached his naked body. He indicated the bathroom. "I just need to use the bathroom. I'll be back in a second."

"Okay," Dave replied, lying back in bed and curling up into his usual sleeping position. John watched him for a moment before heading towards the bathroom, turning on the light once he was inside and leaving the door open, bathing the bedroom in a soft yellow glow. Dave glanced at him, squinting against the light. "Take your time."

John relieved himself, and then washed his hands, turning his face slightly to see if Dave had caused any damage to his jaw. There was a slight bruise forming, but it probably wouldn't be anything too noticeable. But it did hurt a little, so he decided to take an Aspirin, and he opened the mirror, revealing Dave's medicine cabinet.

That morning, John had opened the medicine cabinet as well, searching for a shaver that he could use because he'd forgotten to bring one over again. He'd seen the Dexedrines that Dave had accidentally grabbed from the drug lockup at County, and made a note to tell Dave to take them back to work. It'd been a few weeks since he'd taken them, but John had forgotten about them as well, so he guessed that Dave had forgotten about them too. But they were gone now. Dave must've taken them back to work...but when?

He went still. Dave hadn't...? Had he? He turned to look at the younger man, lying in bed, curled up into a fetal position, the bathroom light drifting upon him, giving him a surreal effect. Tonight, Dave's behavior had been very, very odd, but he'd said he hadn't drunken anything, and John had thought it was due to the cold medication...but could it have been something else causing him to act that way? He glanced once again to the now empty shelve, where the Dexedrine used to be. Was it more than the cold medicine?

It was. Deep down inside he knew.

"God," he said to himself, shaking his head. "What am I thinking?"

"Huh?" Dave mumbled from the bed, half-asleep. "Say something, John?"

"No," John said, shaking his head still, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He rubbed his face with his hands, knowing that when people were tired they didn't think straight, they thought stupid things that didn't make quite that much sense. That's what this was: stupid. Dave wasn't using drugs, he was just emotional...he was just...Dave. He turned off the bathroom light, heading back into bed, joining Dave and moving close to him, spooning with the younger man, feeling Dave's heart beating against his own.

Tomorrow, he'd be thinking straight, and he wouldn't be thinking this at all.

-------------------------------------

Feeling like I'm chasing,

Like I'm facing myself alone

I've got somebody else's thoughts in my head

I want some of my own

-------------------------------------

------------------------------------- Chapter Ten: Anything Good -------------------------------------

Never said I was innocent

I will burn in hell for the things I've done to you

Never said I was anything good

I should die from the shame from what I've put you through

-------------------------------------

Dave's worst enemy: the alarm clock. And he treated it as such, muttering obscenities at it and pounding his fist upon it, doing so a few times before it finally shut off. He rolled over onto his stomach, mock-sobbing into his pillow at the thought of being roused from his bed for yet another day at Cook County. Another day of vomit, piss, blood and pus. Oh, joy.

He glanced to the other side of the bed to see that John Carter was still sleeping. Figures that he wouldn't wake up to the alarm; John slept as if he were in a coma most nights. It was a vast contrast to how Dave slept, however: waking up to the slightest sound, save for the times when he was stuck in a nightmare, which happened more often than not.

Last night hadn't even been the worst he'd ever had. John had yet to experience one when instead of just screaming, Dave woke up thinking he was still lost in the nightmare, taking sometimes ten full minutes of fighting and hysteria before the images faded from his eyes and he realized he was safe in his apartment, several long miles and several long years away from the memories that haunted his dreams.

He sighed, raising his head from the pillow as he squinted his eyes to focus on the numbers on the clock. Six AM. Too early, too damn early. And his head felt like it was pulsating, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before: party head, morning-after head, whatever you wanted to call it, it was still the same thing. Jesus, he really wished right about now he hadn't taken those Dexedrine yesterday, but all he had wanted to do was forget, and it'd felt too good to be right, and - as he thought last night - all he'd wanted to do was be wrong.

And forgotten he had. He could barely remember any of last night's events, except for a hazy memory of sobbing out his eyes in John's arms after waking from that nightmare. God, how embarrassing. Next thing you knew, he'd be crying during sex. On that note, Dave turned to glance at his companion, and saw that John was still here, so that had to mean he hadn't done anything *that* bad.

Rising from his bed, Dave's feet made contact with the disgusting carpet as his eyes moved over the disgusting walls. God, he hated this place, but then again he hated everything about his life...well almost everything, he thought, glancing back to look at the peacefully sleeping John. He could never let himself forget how lucky he was to have John in his life, because he certainly didn't deserve him. He began to walk to his bathroom, trying to be quiet so he wouldn't wake John but failing to do so when he tripped over the sleeping cat, nearly killing himself and it. He cursed silently as Kermit screeched, briefly glancing back to see John stirring but not waking.

"Sorry, Furface," he whispered to Kermit, squatting down to look under the bed, where the cat had scurried under. He hissed at Dave, who only rolled his eyes in response as he stood upright. "Jeeze, I said I was sorry."

He crossed the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower. Brush teeth, shave face, relieve yourself, all while the water slowly warms up to your liking, Dave thought to himself. Then he rubbed his aching head. Oh, and take a couple aspirins too.

Finished with those quick tasks, he stepped inside the shower, already naked from the night before. The water was warm and soothed his aching head, and just when he thought today might not be so bad, the water stopped without Dave touching the controls, and when it started up again after a slight rumbling sound, the Junior Resident was hit with a refreshing blast of ice-cold water.

-------------------------------------

Let me be the one to bring us back from the dead

I will take the blame for everything

You know I just wanna help you forget

-------------------------------------

There was a squeaking sound, as if someone ran their hand quickly over something wet, a scream, a thud, a string of obscenities, another scream, this one more like one of frustration, a brief silence, and then: "I *hate* this fucking place!!"

John Carter dared to venture out of bed, quickly but warily crossing the bedroom to the bathroom, where the source of the screams was coming from. He entered to find Dave beginning to stand from the shower floor, and when he realized just what had happened, he tried to compress his laughter, but failed to do so.

"Yes, I fell in the shower," Dave snapped grumpily. The sudden spray of cold water had surprised him so much he'd tried to turn away from it, but had instead slipped and fallen down right on his butt. He glanced up at John, who was snickering as he tried to bite back his laughter. "Ha, ha, so funny. I could've died, you know."

"Don't be so dramatic," John said, approaching the younger man, still smiling but not laughing.

"You could've come in here and found me with a broken neck," he went on to say, rubbing his sore ass, "and you would've laughed."

"If I found you with a broken neck," John said, chuckling, "I hardly think I'd be laughing."

"You're laughing now," Dave pointed out angrily.

"You don't have a broken neck, do you?" John asked, bringing Dave into his arms. He held the younger man close to him for a few moments, glad that he *didn't* have a broken neck, before pulling back slightly to look into those beautiful brown eyes that held more secrets than John would ever know. John smiled softly, then placing a gentle kiss on Dave's lips. He pulled away once more. "Good morning."

"Yeah," Dave scoffed, tossing John a look. "Such a good morning it's been so far. I hate this fucking place."

"So I heard," John said. Then he suggested, "Why don't you get a better one?"

"I'm a resident, remember?" he asked John, his hands resting on John's waist as John's arms draped over his shoulders. "As if I can afford a better one?"

"*We* can," John said quietly, watching Dave carefully for a reaction. Dave narrowed his eyes, glancing at John suspiciously but offering no comment, his expression indifferent. "Well...we practically live together already...and I think it's about time I move out of my family's house."

Still no reply, but, watching the Junior Resident carefully, John noted that he seemed to be mulling the thought over as he glanced around the apartment. Okay, so he wasn't sure whether he'd expected Dave to agree or not, but he certainly hadn't prepared himself for the latter. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea he'd ever come up with, he thought morosely. But when Dave turned back to John, a smile slowly spreading across his face, he could see that it clearly was.

"So." John pressed, and he prayed that Dave said what he wanted him to. If not, he knew he'd be seriously crushed. God, John thought incredulously. It was like he was a teenager again, yearning for the attention of his high school crush. He'd never felt this way with any other lover he'd ever had. It was exciting and scary at the same time. "...What do you say?"

"I say," Dave said, grinning, "I can't wait to get out of this place."

"So...that's it?" John asked hesitantly. "You're just...happy that you're moving?"

"Well, yeah," Dave teased, keeping his tone serious, knowing that John thought moving was the *only* reason he was glad and not the fact that the two would be living together. He saw the Chief Resident's face fall, and the devil in him had to continue teasing, compressing his smile as best he could while saying: "I mean, I get this big new apartment all to myself, and you're going to pay for it."

John shoved him playfully, smiling. "You're a jerk."

"Come on, John. You really think I'm that shallow?" Dave asked, clasping John's hands in his own. He need to make sure that John knew he was *only* teasing, and hadn't been serious at all. This was important to him. "I could care less about another apartment. Sure, it's great, but...it'll be twice as great with you there. This shithole I live in is twice as great with you *here*. I...I actually look forward to coming home knowing that you're...that you're going to be here. The point is: we're going to be...together, and I...God, I'm not good at this. Is this coming out right?"

"It's coming out perfectly," John replied softly, touched by the younger man's words.

Overcome with happiness, John smiled in delight, slipping his hands onto either side of Dave's face, pulling him into a kiss that spoke volumes about the way John was feeling right now: pure bliss. He was going to move in with Dave, with the man that he was - yes, he was admitting it - in love with. He was in love with the cocky, abrasive, bluntly honest, compassionate, dedicated, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous Dr. David Malucci, and it was the best feeling in the world, one that he wouldn't trade and one that he would die for. One that he would hopefully die with.

He pulled away from the kiss, seeing the slightly surprised expression on Dave's face turn into a smile, and he smiled as well. But his smile faded as his eyes traveled down the Junior Resident's body, stopping once he reached the freshly healing wounds on his chest, stomach, and arms. His fingers trailed down to trace the deep scratches gently, remembering Dave last night - hysterical, crazy, irrational - a totally different person than he seemed to be now - composed, sensible, balanced. He glanced up at the younger man, and their eyes met, John's gaze serious while Dave's was confused.

"What are those from?" Dave asked. He'd noted the marks in the shower, and had tried in vain to remember where they'd come from. An out-of-control patient at work? But surely he would've remembered that. However, he didn't remember last night, and it could've happened then.

"You don't remember?" John asked incredulously. Last night in bed, then that hysteric episode in the bathroom...Dave didn't remember any of it? Those images would be in John's mind and memory for a long time, and Dave didn't remember *any* of it?? How could he forget something like that? Dave shook his head, answering John's question, and the Chief Resident instinctively pulled away, turning his back on Dave. "You did that to yourself."

"What?" Dave asked, surprised. Why would he do something like that? God, Dave thought to himself. He must've been fucked up royally last night. And John pulling away proved so. The younger man moved towards John, his expression worried as he asked quietly: "What else did I do?"

"Besides claw at your own skin and try to rip out your own hair in this very bathroom??" he replied more harshly than he'd intended. He turned to face the Junior Resident, who had instinctively touched his own hair, and upon seeing his startled face, John immediately calmed down, reminding himself that Dave probably had no control over what he'd done if he'd had a reaction to the Benadryl he'd taken. John briefly considered smudging the truth so Dave wouldn't feel so guilty, but he had a right to know. With a sigh, he started: "I think you had a reaction to the cold medicine you took."

"What kind of reaction?" Dave asked quickly. At least if John thought it'd been the Benadryl, he wouldn't suspect anything else. As much as he hated lying to him, it would explain everything without John considering another thought. "An allergic reaction, maybe?"

"Maybe." John replied, shrugging. "I don't know. You wouldn't let me take you to the hospital."

Hesitancy in his voice. Slight hesitancy, but still hesitancy at that. There was more, Dave knew there was more. Something John wasn't telling him, something he'd done that John wasn't telling him. The question was...what had he done? He was almost too afraid to ask, but when silence enveloped the room, Dave knew that John was too afraid to tell.

So he said, hesitancy laced in his own voice: "What else happened last night?"

"You had a nightmare," John offered, knowing that that wasn't the answer Dave was looking for.

"I remember that," Dave stated, nodding, an obscure image of John holding him in the darkness while he cried coming to his mind's eye. He took another step forward, but John looked down. God, what had he done? "What else happened?"

"Dave, why don't we drop it for now?" John asked. "We both have to get ready for work, and..."

"John," Dave interrupted softly. "Tell me, please."

"Well, what happened in the bathroom - "

"Before that, John," Dave said, his voice quavering with urgency.

"You..." The Chief Resident sighed, glancing up at the Junior Resident long enough to see his questioning eyes asking him to explain before looking down again. He knew how Dave was going to react, and he knew that telling him but probably a mistake. But John knew lying to him would also be a mistake: Dave was keener than he looked, and certainly more so than he acted, he just had that street sense about him. He could pick up a lie from a mile away, and John was definitely one of the worst liars in this county. "You were kind of rough during sex..."

"How rough?" Dave asked slowly when John didn't continue, fearing the answer that he already knew. His voice nearly caught in his throat when he said, quietly: "Did I hurt you?" Instead of an answer, all he received was a look from John that told him everything he needed to know, and he immediately turned, his hands running through his hair in shock. "Oh, God...oh, God, I...oh, God..." he kept repeating, over and over again as if those were the only words he knew in any language.

"Dave, you were having a reaction to the cold medicine," John said hastily, watching Dave carefully. He could already see that Dave was going to tear himself up about this, even if it hadn't been his fault. Violence of any kind - deliberate or not - to anyone he cared about was probably one of the worst acts Dave could commit in his mind. This would probably haunt him for a long time, John thought, watching as Dave moved one hand to his forehead and the other to his waist, desperately trying to remember last night's events. "Dave, it wasn't your fault. You have to understand that."

"I...it doesn't matter," he said, looking up at John. Dexedrine, he thought. It had to have been the Dexedrine mixed with the cold medicine. Lately, it hadn't been having the same effect on him as when he'd first started taking it, so he'd begun to up the amount he usually took. But after hearing what happened to him - what it made him do - he realized he'd have to take something else to counteract it, to regulate his mood...Klonipin. Did he have any? Or would he have to get some? He instinctively glanced at his mirror, the medicine cabinet concealed behind it, trying to remember exactly what pills he kept inside.

"Dave, it wasn't your...fault," John faltered, following Dave's line of sight to the mirror. Was he studying himself, looking for something in his own reflection? He came up from behind the Junior Resident, wrapping his arms around Dave, bringing one up to gently trace the scratches on his chest, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Last night was scary," he started softly, resting his chin on Dave's shoulder. "Terrifying, in fact. But it was because you'd probably been drinking, and that combined with the cold medicine - whether or not you had an allergic reaction to it - made you act very out of character. You had no control over what you were doing or saying, and I could tell. I know that that wasn't you last night, Dave. Despite what you think of yourself and no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, I know that you'd never intentionally hurt me, or anyone for that matter. You're not a bad person, you're a good, good person, Dave, you are. I wish I could convince you of that, I really wish I could."

"I don't deserve you," Dave said quietly, looking at John in the mirror.

"That isn't true, Dave," the older man reassured him, wondering how Dave could possibly think that. After everything he'd been through, Dave deserved the world. But he could see that Dave didn't share similar thoughts. "You deserve so much more than you think you do. I know that, Dave. And if you don't believe that yourself, then you can at least believe me. I wouldn't lie to you."

Dave turned in John's arms, pulling the older man close, doing so gently as if he were afraid he would break him. He kissed John's neck, resting his head against John's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his lover. "I'm so sorry, John. And I promise I'll make it up to you. I don't know how, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if I have to. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..."

"Dave, please stop," John insisted softly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Dave snuggled closer to John, holding on to him like he was afraid he was going to lose him. They stood like that for a long time, the seconds turning into minutes, and Dave glanced at the clock, knowing he only had about twenty minutes to get to County and it would take him longer than that to get ready and then head out on his bike. He exhaled heavily, moving so he could look into John's eyes.

"I have to get ready," Dave stated, hating to leave this embrace when he knew he would miss it all day. But at least he and John were on similar shifts that day, Dave's starting a couple hours earlier than John's, so he would get to see the older man throughout the day. He smiled, looking up into John's eyes. "I'm going to be late if I take my bike. Do you think you could drop me off?"

"I don't know." John's brow furrowed, his lips pursing for a moment. "I mean...don't you think it'd look...suspicious?"

"What?" Dave asked, his own brow furrowing, but in puzzlement. He smiled bitterly, then, realizing exactly what would seem "suspicious" to their coworkers, who probably wouldn't even think anything of it or wouldn't even witness John dropping him off in front of the ER. Pulling away and walking into the bedroom, Dave scoffed: "Yeah, sure. Right. Wouldn't want anyone to suspect anything. Wouldn't want anyone thinking that someone like John Carter could possibly like a guy like *Dr. Dave*. You're ashamed of me, I know you are! All that stuff you just said, I *knew* you were lying. Come on, admit it. It's bad enough that the ER thinks we're friends, let alone lovers! I mean, if you're going to do this, then you might as well not do it with someone like *me* right??"

"Dave...wait..." John sighed, following Dave into the bedroom, watching the younger man begin to pull on clothes hastily. "Dave, that's not it..."

"Then what is it?" he asked as he turned to John, clearly annoyed. "Please, tell me, John. What is it?"

"Dave, how many superiors do you know at work that are..."

"Gay? Say it, John. Say it: gay," Dave said, sitting down on the bed so he could pull on his socks and shoes. He glanced up at John, who was looking at him with exasperation. "What? Having sex with another guy is totally straight to you, or something? You're gay, John. Admit it!"

"I am not gay," John stated firmly.

"Well, you're at least bisexual."

"I am not bisexual!"

"Are you *stupid*??!" Dave barked angrily, standing with a flourish. He moved to the other side of the bedroom, grabbing his jacket that was hastily thrown over his desk chair, pulling it on roughly as he headed for the hallway. "John, you like me - or at least I think you do. So, you're either gay, bisexual or in denial, my friend, because you certainly are not straight!"

"So what do you want me to do?" John asked, following Dave down the hallway, grabbing his robe and wrapping it around himself as he did so. "You want me to tell everyone in the ER that you and I are sleeping together? That we have sex every night?? Is that what you want?"

Dave stopped and spun around, turning to John with anger in his expression but clear hurt in his eyes. "No, John, that wouldn't make me happy. Because that isn't what this is about." He began to turn once more, but then looked back to John. "You know, it would be real nice, for once, if maybe you and I could go out in public or be at work and be *together,* and not have to worry about you thinking someone might jump down our throats because they 'suspect something.'"

"Okay," John said, placing his hands on his waist, getting annoyed himself. He had his issues, just as Dave had his, but he didn't go about bringing up Dave's inhibitions. Well, he was now. "So you want me to tell everyone how much I love you, but you won't even let me show you how much I love you."

"What are you talking about?" Dave asked defensively, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," John said indignantly, feigning recollection. "You don't remember last night."

"You say that as if it's my fault. You said so yourself, that it was the cold medicine and beer, but you're saying that as if it's my fault," Dave repeated again. He glanced at the clock quickly before turning away from John. "It wasn't my fault, so I don't even know why we're having this conversation in the first place. And what I do with my own body is my own business, you can't tell me what to do with it."

"Where are you going?" John suddenly asked, watching Dave as he moved towards the front door to his apartment, grabbing his bicycle brusquely, which he kept against his living room wall. The younger man suddenly stopped once he heard John's question, slowly turning to face him, his expression one of incredulity. "Didn't you want me to drive you?"

Dave scoffed once more, opening the front door, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Don't worry about it, John. Wouldn't want anyone to 'suspect' anything, right? Besides, the last thing I want is anything from you."

With that, he immediately left, slamming the door closed behind him, the resounding crack of wood on wood echoing off of the apartment walls. John sighed loudly, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. God, sometimes Dave could be so...so...so *Dave*! Quickly, because he knew Dave would be down the stairs and outside biking to County in no time, the Chief Resident threw on his undershirt from the day before and a pair of Dave's sweatpants, pulling on a pair of shoes and his coat before grabbing his keys and heading outside. He rushed down the stairs, heading outside to his Jeep, which was parked at the curb.

Stopping at the curbside to glance down the sidewalk briefly, he could see Dave halfway down the street already, peddling so fiercely the bike swayed from left to right as he did so. Another sigh later, John was inside his Jeep and starting it up, not waiting for it to heat up before he took off down the street, stopping at the busy intersection, where Dave was waiting for the traffic to pass before he crossed it.

"Dave," John called to the younger man, keeping one eye on the red light so it wouldn't change to green without him knowing. The Junior Resident turned towards him just long enough to scowl before he concentrated on the traffic again. "Dave, get in the Jeep."

"Fuck you, John," he spat, then pushed himself off of the curb and into the street, weaving his bicycle deftly through the cars, which promptly honked at him. From what John knew, Dave regularly took risks in the street on his bike with reckless abandon, but it frankly scared the living hell out of him, and he felt his heart skip several beats while witnessing this act. God, he wasn't even wearing a helmet!

"Shit," John breathed as the younger man made it somehow safely to the other side. The light then turned green, and John stepped on the gas immediately to catch up to Dave. He just hoped that Dave didn't try to take any shortcuts through alleys or paths that John couldn't with his Jeep. He slowed down as he caught up to the Junior Resident, ignoring the honks of morning traffic behind him. "Dave! Get in this Jeep right now, before I get into an accident!"

To John's surprise, he actually slowed to a stop, glancing back at the cars behind John, who were now honking furiously, some yelling obscenities at the both of them. He seemed to contemplate his decision for a moment before he finally let out a sigh of defeat.

"Pull over," he called with exasperation, and waited for John to do so before hitching his bike to the back of the Jeep. John leaned over the consol and the passenger's side to open the door for Dave, who soon climbed inside and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his stare fixed on the dashboard.

Now driving towards the hospital, John kept glancing at Dave, wanting to say something but unable to think of what. He wasn't sure what words could fix the damage that had been done during their first real argument, but he knew he wanted to say something apologetic and reassuring, something that would make Dave forget all about what had been said earlier.

"You really shouldn't ride your bike in traffic like that." Great, John, he thought sarcastically to himself. Really, really great. That will make everything all better. He mentally kicked himself, knowing that he deserved it.

"Sure thing, Mom," Dave muttered, his gaze now focused on the several buildings passing by outside.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," John stated, glancing briefly at the younger man, who turned to him and tossed him a glance that could be easily interpreted: Yeah fucking right. John remembered something Dave had said earlier, something about how he thought John liked him. Dave didn't really think John didn't care, did he? "I do care about you, you know."

"Yeah, you just don't want anyone to know you do," Dave muttered snidely.

"If it's so easy to come out, Dave, then why don't you do it?" John asked, finding it incredulous that the younger man could be pressuring him to do this when he hadn't even done it himself.

"What?" Dave asked, turning slowly to face him.

"Well, no one at work knows that you're..."

"Bisexual?" Dave asked when John trailed off, finishing the sentence for him. "It's not a dirty word, for Christ's sake! You can say it, John. Bisexual, bisexual, bisexual. See? Lightening isn't gonna strike you dead and God's not gonna pelt punishment hail at you."

"So why don't you tell anyone?" John snapped, tossing Dave a sideways glance of anger.

"Because it's no one's fucking business!" Dave shot back.

"So why is my being bisexual anyone's business?!!" John yelled.

"God, it isn't the same, John!" Dave exclaimed. "Why can't you fucking see that??"

"How is it different?" John asked incredulously, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Dave sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration before answering. "Look, people at work think we're just close friends, but I don't care if they find out we're more than that. And if someone *does* find out and ask me if I'm bisexual, then I'm not gonna lie about it, John! And if you weren't so Goddamned paranoid, I would let the whole world know that I'm with you. And you know why, John?"

"Why?" he spat angrily, his tone of voice suggesting that he really didn't want to know or care to, either.

"It's because *I'm* not ashamed of you, *I'm* proud to be with you, *I'm* *happy* to be with you!! *I'm* glad to *have* you!" he yelled, his handsome features contorted with anger. He suddenly stopped, fearing he'd lose control soon if he got angry enough, not knowing what would happen when he did, and he sat back in his seat, taking a few deep breaths before continuing, in a calmer tone of voice. "The difference is that my personal life is my business, but I'm not about hide who I am because I'm not ashamed of who I am. The difference is that you are ashamed of who you are, and...you're ashamed of who you're with." He paused, turning towards the window, and then said quietly: "That's the difference."

"That's not true," John said as he saw they were approaching Cook County. "I...I just...this is really hard for me, Dave. You just need to be patient with me, that's all. And contrary to what you think, I'm not ashamed of you. I'm trying, Dave, I really am, and I wish you would see that."

They sat in silence as John pulled into the parking garage and found a nearby space. He turned off the car and stepped out, not waiting for Dave before he unhitched the younger man's bike from the back of his Jeep. Dave then moved to take the bike from John, but placed his hands over the Chief Resident's, looking up into the older man's eyes.

"John, look...I'm sorry about last night, even if it isn't my fault. And I'm sorry about this morning too. I know you aren't ready to come out yet, and that's okay with me." Dave paused. He had so much to say, but as usual the words to express his feelings and thoughts failed him. So instead, he pulled John into a quick embrace, kissing him on the cheek discreetly. Then, he looked into John's eyes once more. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," John said, smiling softly.

"Want me to wait for you after work?" Dave asked as he turned his bike towards the ambulance bay. "I could catch up on some charts while I wait, God knows that I need to. And Weaver's going to kill me if I don't get them to her soon. We could go out for a drink afterwards. The Game Room, maybe?"

"Sure," John said, smiling as he hopped back into the Jeep, leaving the door open so he could still talk with Dave, watching his expression broaden into a smile and pure childlike delight as he said: "Then maybe we can go apartment shopping, too."

-------------------------------------

We are still living on broken glass

We are still numb because it just keeps happening

All your friends, they can kiss my ass

They only see the simple things that they want to see

-------------------------------------

Abby Lockhart, former medical student of her supposed lover Dave Malucci, spotted him enter the Lounge, a smile on his face and his good mood practically emanating from him, ready to infect her and everyone in this hospital. Perhaps it had something to do with that new girlfriend of his, she mused.

...Boyfriend?

No, that was ridiculous! Dave was not gay, and he most certainly didn't have a boyfriend. He was the resident lady killer, for God's sake, bedding any woman who would let him into her path. He'd even tried it on her once, though had managed to fail miserably when his own male hormones had gotten momentarily distracted by a certain female oriental doctor in a little black dress.

But Luka had said it with such firmness and conviction, she thought, as if he knew it for a fact. But he *had* been angry at the time, and people said stupid things when they were angry. But why was he angry with Dave? She didn't think they'd been friends, and the Rumor Mill had nothing to offer on their unexplainable behavior that might give her any hint in the right direction. And it couldn't have been because he thought she and the Junior Resident were an item, he'd been angry with Dave long before then. But that could've added to it if... Wait, it couldn't be...unless it was...then -

"Oh, my God!" Abby said out loud, startling nearly everyone at Admin around her. Luka and Dave, they'd - Dave and Luka had - were? "No... No?"

"Abby, are you okay?" Randi asked, puzzled by the nurse's sudden odd behavior. Having Dave as a boyfriend must really be getting to her, Randi thought, though she knew from experience that the sex was great. So perhaps it was worth it.

"I - I'm fine," she said hastily, quickly heading towards the Lounge. When she pushed open the door and entered the room, seeing him pulling on his scrub top over his long-sleeved T-shirt, she immediately regretted doing so. What was she going to do: just ask him? Well, she had to do something besides just stand here like an idiot. So she managed a squeaked: "Hey, Dave."

Dave glanced up in surprise, tossing Abby a look after seeing that that bad mouse impersonation had come from her. She was standing there looking almost startled, approaching him cautiously, almost nervously. One could easily tell that something was up, but he knew her well enough to know that she was afraid to ask him something. And he had a gut feeling about what it was concerning.

"Hey, Abby," he said, grabbing his stethoscope and ID badge. He decided to stay silent, pretending to rummage through his locker as if he were looking for something, while waiting for her to make the next move.

"How's your girlfriend?" she asked suddenly. Real smooth, Abby, she thought to herself, mentally smacking herself in the head.

"Fine," he replied casually.

"...*She's* fine?" she asked, as innocently as possible, though hesitantly so. He glanced at her in his peripheral vision, but did not reply. Abby was his best friend - maybe his only friend - and he would not risk their relationship by lying to her...but was he willing to come out to her? He watched her open her mouth to say something, close it, open it again, and then finally say: "Dave, are you gay?"

"No," he said evenly.

She hesitated again. "Are you bisexual?"

"Yes," he said, just as evenly as before, though he still wasn't looking directly at her. There he'd done it. That wasn't so hard. But now for her reaction.

"Dave!" She suddenly smacked his arm, and he pulled away from her, glancing at her in surprise, letting out an "Ow!" as she said: "Why didn't you tell me??"

"I don't know!" he said, closing his locker. "It's not something that comes up in conversation. 'Hey, Abby, how ya doing? Let's go have a cup of coffee. Oh by the way, I'm bisexual, just to let you know.'"

"And you're seeing a guy, aren't you?" she continued, ignoring his sarcasm.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Dave!" She smacked his arm again. "Why didn't you tell me that, either?!"

"Ow!" he exclaimed, flinching away from her as he rubbed his stinging flesh. "Stop that!"

"Who are you seeing?" she persisted. "Luka? Yeah, I know all about you two. But he's not rich, that doesn't make sense."

"It's not Luka," he said, heading towards the Lounge door with her following close behind. "He and I have been over for a long time."

"What?" Abby asked, shocked that her suspicions were indeed true. "When was this?"

"In the summer. After you guys broke up," he said. "I was the rebound guy. I guess that was the problem."

"Problem?" Abby asked, confused.

"Well, Luka had never been with a guy before and he really couldn't handle all the...complications that came with it, so we ended it."

"But not on good terms," Abby added.

Dave looked at her, and she could see that that fact deeply bothered him. "Actually, we left it on terrible terms."

"I know the feeling," Abby muttered, thinking back to her and Luka's breakup. She suddenly looked up at him. "So...then who are you seeing now??"

"I can't tell you." She raised her hand again, but he pulled away from her before she could smack his arm again, and she missed, catching only air. He turned to her, his expression exasperated. "Look, I can't tell you because it isn't my place. Now I've got patients to see. I'll talk to you later, I promise!"

"Dave!" she called after him as he quickly moved down the hallway, grabbing a random chart and heading towards the correct room, avoiding her prying questions - for now. "I'm going to find out who it is sooner or later, Malucci!!"

"Lover's spat?" she heard the unmistakable voice of Robert Romano ask. Apparently, even *he* had heard the rumors.

But, frankly, she was sick of it. "Oh, shut up!"

-------------------------------------

Let me be the one to make the pain go away

Shed my skin and show a brand new face

You know I just wanna know that you're okay

-------------------------------------

Two hours later, John Carter entered Cook County General, patting the newspaper in his coat pocket that he'd picked up on the way over, thinking of the different apartments Dave and he could get. With John's salary as Chief Resident - and not to mention that trust fund with his name on it - they could easily get a nice spacious apartment with a great view of the city and a great big bed.

On that note, John considered the sex they'd had last night. Dave had to have been drinking, he just *had* to have been, even if for some reason Dave didn't want to admit it. And that combined with the cold medicine could've made him act the way he did. What else could explain his odd behavior? Dave had even said so himself, that he'd never want to hurt John. So why else would he unless he couldn't control himself?

But John hadn't tasted or smelled alcohol on Dave's breath when he'd kissed him, and Dave *had* said that he hadn't been drinking.

"You knew, didn't you?" He turned away from his locker to face Abby, who was looking at him accusingly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Knew what?" he asked, taking off his shoulder bag and hanging it in his locker.

"About Dave," she simply stated, having second thoughts about whether or not John knew. Coming in here, she'd decided that since John and Dave were closer friends than she and Dave were, then that had to mean that John knew that Dave was seeing a guy. But if he didn't, then maybe Dave hadn't told him for a reason, and that was his decision, not hers. So she'd just have to ask him without asking, if that were even possible.

"What about Dave?" John asked, wondering just what exactly this was about.

"Uh...uh...that he's...seeing Jing-Mei," she said, the wheels of her mind in overdrive as she tried to think of a way to get John to admit that Dave was bisexual *and* seeing a guy, then try to find out just who that guy was. She hastily added: "And they're moving in together."

John had to laugh. "What?"

"Yeah, you knew," Abby said casually, nodding as she brushed a stray piece of brown hair behind her ear. "I knew you knew. And you'd blatantly denied it before."

"Abby, trust me, they're not seeing each other and they're not moving in together," John stated. Where the hell had she gotten this information? Dave? Maybe he'd mentioned something about moving, and now she was trying to find out whom Dave was seeing by tricking him. Well, it wasn't going to work. "She doesn't even *like* him."

"That's...not what Jing-Mei said."

His head snapped towards her, his brow furrowed in pure incredulity now. "Jing-Mei told you that she was moving in with Dave? Um, why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Okay, so maybe she didn't say that," Abby confirmed with a shrug. "But she's the only...woman I know who's rich, and Dave said the...person he was seeing was rich."

"Maybe it's Dr. Romano," John mused sarcastically, wishing for a trauma to come in that required his assistance, or a fire in the hospital that would force them to leave, or perhaps lightning would strike him dead, ending their conversation permanently. At least he wouldn't have to worry about it then.

"But that would mean Dave was gay...or at least bisexual." She then leaned close to John, forcing him to meet his eye. "Dave's not gay or bisexual, is he?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Why...why would you think Dave was gay or bisexual?"

"Hey, *you're* the one that brought a guy into the conversation," Abby countered.

"What exactly did Dave tell you?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "What exactly do you know?"

He watched her for a moment, almost falling for this one, but then he turned back to his locker, shaking his head as he said: "I am not having this conversation with you."

"I knew you knew!" Abby said, able to tell by now when John was lying or trying to hide something. She knew him too well. And don't think she hadn't caught his surprise yesterday when she'd stated that Dave was seeing a woman and he'd said, "She?" She narrowed her eyes now, thinking of how it'd only raised her suspicion. "And you knew he was dating a guy, didn't you?"

"Abby..." he started. It wasn't his place to say anything unless Dave had told her already, but he wondered why Dave would do something like that. He'd just said this morning that John didn't want to come out yet, and that he was fine with it. Now he was going to pull something like this? Was he *trying* to give them away? Shit...what if she already knew??

"He just told me today," she went on to say, leaning back against the locker next to John's. She suddenly turned to face John again, her eyes wide. "Do you know who he's seeing??"

Maybe she didn't. "No, I don't. And even if I did, it isn't my place to tell you." Her brow suddenly furrowed, her gaze pinning him to the wall. "What?"

"I think you know," was the slow reply. Know what? Shit, did she know or not?? He couldn't figure it out! God, what had Dave *told* her?! "You know who it is. Who is it??"

"I can't tell you," he stammered hastily, thanking God that she *didn't* know. He quickly took off his jacket, wanting to get out of there immediately, and his newspaper of apartments for rent fell out of his pocket and into the floor. Abby bent down and picked it up, glancing over it before handing it to him. "Thanks."

"You're moving?" she asked, and he was grateful that the subject had been changed. "Man, you guys don't tell me anything anymore!"

"Sorry," John apologized, tossing the paper into his locker and closing it. He placed his stethoscope around his neck, grabbing some much-needed coffee before heading out into the ER. "I just decided to today. I picked that up on the way over here, I'm going to look it over on my break. Want to help?"

"Sure," she said. "So who is it?"

"Who's whom?"

"Who Dave is seeing!" she exclaimed, as if the notion he'd forgotten what they'd been discussing was unbelievable.

"Abby, I don't know who it is," John said, wishing right about now that he could strangle Dave for ever telling Abby that he was bisexual and seeing a man. What the hell had he been thinking? He'd definitely have to talk about this with Dave as soon as possible.

"Oh, yes you do!" she insisted, pointing at him. "You just said that you couldn't tell me. You know, I know you know. I won't tell anyone if you tell me, I promise!"

"Abby, I really can't tell you," he stated, spotting the Junior Resident he was looking for sewing up an arm lac near Admin. The ER was exceptionally busy today, forcing some patients into the halls. He hurried towards Dave and away from Abby, glad that she finally gave up badgering him and stopped following him with a loud frustrated sigh. Once Abby was out of sight, John approached Dave and grabbed his arm, motioning towards an empty supply closet. "We need to talk."

"I'm kinda busy," Dave reported, holding up the needle and thread as if to prove it to him.

"Now." Whoa, the younger man thought. No room for argument there.

"Okay..." Dave said, his brow furrowed. Uh oh, this couldn't be good. He excused himself from his patient, telling him not to move a muscle, and then followed John into an empty supply closet, who immediately closed the door behind him. He turned towards the Chief Resident, confusion in his eyes. "What's up? What's so important that you had to pull me away from a patient? Real unprofessional, man."

"You want to talk about unprofessional??" he asked Dave, standing close to him threateningly. Dave stood up straighter and raised his chin to appear taller, knowing from experience when a fight was coming, physical or not. "Let's talk about *you* telling Abby you're bisexual and seeing a guy."

Dave tossed John an incredulous smile, glancing off briefly. "*That's* why you're so upset? John, in case you didn't notice, Abby and I are pretty close; there isn't much we keep from each other."

"Well, you should've kept *this* from her!" John spat, pacing nervously about the small room.

"Why?" Dave wanted to know, holding out his hands.

"What if she thinks *I'm* the guy you're seeing?"

"Well, you are the guy I'm seeing," Dave stated blatantly.

John sighed in frustration. "I mean: what if she thinks I'm gay?"

"You are gay...bisexual? In denial? What do you want me to say??" Dave asked, remembering their conversation from this morning. John tossed Dave an exasperated look, stopping his pacing to cross his arms over his chest. "Look," Dave said, approaching the Chief Resident. He placed his hands on John's upper arms, gently rubbing them up and down as he stood flush to him. "I'm sorry if you didn't want her to know, but she's my best friend, my *only* friend, and I don't want to lie to her. But just because you and I are friends and I'm bisexual doesn't automatically make *you* the guy I'm seeing. And don't worry, she doesn't suspect anything either. She thought it was *Luka*."

John looked up at Dave, whose charm and aesthetic features could win him over during any argument. He slowly smiled, giving in. "It's okay. Just..."

"I know," Dave said, wishing John would get past his fears so Dave could tell the world that they were together. But maybe for now it was okay; he kind of liked the idea of having John all to himself. He slipped his hands on either side of John's face, leaning in for a kiss.

"Are you sure we should do this here?" John asked, glancing at the closed door. But all thoughts were chased from his mind when he felt Dave's lips upon his own.

Things got serious fairly quickly. They weren't about to have sex right here, right now in this supply closet, but a heavy make-out session was in progress and wasn't nearly over yet. Tongues were clashing, hands were roaming: John's up the back of Dave's scrub top and Dave's pulling John's shirt out of his pants so he could feel that silky smooth chest.

And then a beeper going off. John's beeper. "Ignore it," Dave demanded, not ready to leave John's lips just yet. John did what he was told, plucking it off of his belt and chucking it across the small room, the beeper knocking over a few brooms and mops in its wake. Apparently, John wasn't ready to leave Dave's lips just yet, either, loving the feel of Dave's strong back under his fingertips.

But the next thing Dave knew, however, he was being pushed away roughly by John, nearly tripping and falling backwards but regaining his balance before doing so. He opened his eyes in surprise, glancing up. "What is it?" Following John's line of vision, he saw Abby Lockhart standing in the doorway, clearing her throat. "Oh." He cleared his throat as well, looking at the floor as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

"Smart, funny, good-looking, special and *rich*," she said, pointing to John. "I should've known." She then indicated the fallen mops and brooms at her feet. "I heard some noises in here, so I thought it'd check it out. Now that I see it was just you two making out, I'm going to..." - she paused, thinking for a moment - "stay right here, gape at you guys, and make you feel really uncomfortable."

"Thanks, Abby," Dave said with a sarcastic smile, though there was amusement in his eyes. "You're a doll."

"No problem," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning in the doorway. She watched the two men expectantly. "Go on. I was enjoying your little make-out session just as much as you two were, trust me."

"Maybe you'd like to join us?" Dave asked, winking at her suggestively.

"No...no. Well, perhaps some other time," she responded winking back at him. "Right now, I'm enjoying watching the two of you."

"We weren't making out," John stated feebly, but the words rang false even to his own ears. But Abby couldn't know...if she did, she could let it slip to someone else, and then the whole hospital would know. And he didn't want to know what would happen then. He glanced at Dave for help. "We were just..."

"Making out," he clarified casually.

"Dave!" John exclaimed, his desperate eyes urgently trying to make Dave look at him, but the Junior Resident was looking at Abby.

"Well, he certainly wasn't giving you mouth-to-mouth," Abby stated dryly.

Dave began to laugh, but when he glanced at John, all humor on the subject turned to ashes in his mouth. The Chief Resident looked like a deer caught in headlights: startled and surprised - most of all, scared. Dave exchanged glances with Abby, both sensing John didn't find anything even remotely funny.

"Listen, Abby." Dave started in an attempt to make John feel better about being caught kissing another man. But John's beeper going off once more interrupted him, and the older man immediately took the chance to get out of the room, not even bothering to pick up his pager before he left in a rush. "John...John wait!"

Abby watched John move down the hallway and disappear into the crowded ER, obviously flustered at the fact that she had walked in on him kissing Dave. She turned back to Dave with a frown, his brow furrowed in concern. He looked at Abby now, regaining his composure, and he offered her another one of his casual shrugs that Abby knew deceptively hid what he was feeling.

"So..." she started, bending down to pick up the fallen brooms and mops off of the floor. "You and John are...?"

"Yeah," he verified, helping her in her task by leaning them up against the wall where they'd once been standing. Once finished, he turned to face her, talking in a low voice so no one would overhear. "But...could you please talk to him about this? Reassure him that it's okay that you know. He's never done this before." Dave paused for a moment, worry suddenly clouding his face. "It *is* okay with you, right, Abby?"

Abby looked up at him. "Would that make a difference?"

"I'd still be with John, but what you think matters to me, Abby," he said. "I care what you think of me."

"It's fine with me," she said softly, nodding. And before the subject got too "mushy" for either of them, she asked: "Have you been with a man before? I mean, before Luka?"

Dave nodded. "A few."

"Oh," she said, mostly because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

"Disappointed?"

"No!" she said quickly, and then smiled. "Just surprised: I mean, John maybe, but...*you*??"

-------------------------------------

You don't have to like it

But the swing is in my hands now

-------------------------------------

Abby Lockhart glanced inside of the drug lock-up, her shoulders slumping in defeat and a soft curse escaping her lips as she saw that it was empty. For an hour now, she'd been searching for John Carter, her mission sidetracked several times by traumas, patients and other distractions. She was about to continue her search when she glanced down at her clipboard, remembering that she hadn't gotten to finish her inventory because of one specific Croatian doctor, and then crossed the threshold into the small room, pulling a pen from her pocket as she began to finish her job.

Her eyes searched the shelves expertly after years of experience, trying to locate the drug that she was looking for so she could cross-reference it with her list of the drugs that had been signed out and write down if any were missing or if there was too much. Dexedrine, Dexedrine...where was the Dexedrine? She stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the top shelf, but it wasn't there either. Where could it be? Had someone misplaced it? Sighing, she marked it down on her inventory and moved on to the next drug.

Halfway finished with her inventory, Abby Lockhart knew that something was wrong. Her brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages of her clipboard, noting different drugs and numbers, glancing up at the shelves though not really seeing them. She shook her head incredulously, sighing as she did so. "Damn doctors don't know how to sign out anything."

"What do you mean?" she heard from next to her, and when she turned she could see Dr. Weaver standing beside her, searching the shelves with her eyes for atropine. Abby hadn't even noticed her enter the room.

"They're taking drugs without signing them out," she said, indicating the shelves around them. "Controlled substances, too. Look." She held out the chart to Dr. Weaver, pointing out the different drugs as she said: "Two Demerol, twenty-eight Benzodiazipines - twenty of them Klonipins, a whole bottle of Dexedrines, sixteen Percocets, and two barbiturates, amongst others."

"A whole *bottle* of Dexedrines?" the older woman asked, amazed that so many drugs could be taken from the drug lock-up without someone signing them out - especially *those* kind of drugs. Addictive drugs. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I checked and double checked," Abby confirmed. She looked Dr. Weaver in the eye then, pure concern and worry filling them. "You don't think someone's stealing them...do you?"

As if on cue, John Carter, in need of some Lidocaine for his patient in Sutures, entered the drug lock-up. The two women immediately glanced at him suspiciously, their eyes almost pinning him to the wall. God, Abby hadn't told Dr. Weaver that she'd discovered him and Dave making-out quite juvenilely in a supply closet, had she? And now they were discussing what they should do with him? He froze in his steps, unable to turn and duck out, even though he wanted to.

"John," Dr. Weaver started. Oh, God, here it came. But what was she going to say, exactly? That he was warned? Suspended? God, she'd almost fired Dave for having sex with that paramedic, what was she going to do to him? "John, Abby was conducting her inventory when she...noticed something."

"What?" he asked, glancing at the nurse, his brow furrowing in thought. What did he and Dave have to do with her drug inventory? Perhaps she hadn't told Dr. Weaver about them...

"Some drugs are missing," the Chief of the ED stated, leaning heavily on her crutch. She sighed, her eyes displaying her concern. "Dexedrines, Percocets, Klonipins, Demerol, barbiturates." She trailed off, her eyes fixating on him. John tilted his head, getting the gist of what she was about to say. He was almost relieved that they weren't speaking of what had occurred earlier in the empty supply closet, but he wasn't sure what was worse: that or being suspected of abusing drugs again. He glanced at Abby once more, then back to Dr. Weaver. "John, do you have anything to do with this?"

"No," he said quickly, holding up his hands in innocence, shaking his head. "I'll take a drug test, pee in a cup, whatever you want, but I'm not the one taking anything. I sign out all my drugs, addictive or not, you can check out the list."

"That's all right, I believe you," Dr. Weaver said, shaking her head and holding up her hand in resignation. She sighed once more, rubbing her temple with her forefingers as if she had a headache. Glancing up at her two employees, she said: "If you have any idea who could be doing this, please let me know. Until then, I'm going to call a staff meeting and let the others know."

"Sure thing," Abby said, and John said something similar. The Chief then left the room, leaving said employees alone, and upon realizing this, John quickly tried to duck out, but Abby grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Not so fast. I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" he asked innocently, unable to meet her gaze, instead shifting his own to the shelves surrounding them.

"About what happened earlier," she stated, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. She noted how nervous he seemed, and she was almost sad to know that he believed there was something immoral with what he and Dave shared. "John, I want you to know that there's nothing wrong with you having a relationship with Dave. There's nothing wrong with being attracted to someone and acting upon it, and no one has a right to tell you who that person is or who that person *should* be. I'm happy for you guys, it's about time the both of you found someone. I hope that you make each other happy."

"Really?" he asked quietly, looking up at her with questioning eyes. She smiled warmly at him and nodded, and he instantly let out a sigh of relief that must've started from his toes. Abby was one of his closest friends as well, and he didn't want to lose her. He was very glad that she was okay with everything, and wasn't about to break off their friendship because he was involved with a man. And he knew that in today's homophobic society, this was likely to occur with some people.

But Abby hadn't been the first person to find out, though she was the first to walk in on the two men in a heated moment. And he was exceptionally glad that this hadn't been the case with his own grandmother.

* * *

Storm clouds blanketed the sky, making the night unusually dark and unusually cold, the two young men's breath coming out in visible puffs as they walked up the path to the Carter family mansion, quickly so they wouldn't be spotted. Tonight, John had to stay at home because he'd slept over Dave's all week, and his grandmother and grandfather were beginning to become suspicious of his excuses that he had to work late at the hospital. But he'd assured Dave that he could sleep over, since his grandfather - having come out of the hospital a few weeks ago - was fully recuperated and was on a business trip, and his grandmother had a charity breakfast to attend to early tomorrow morning from seven o'clock until eleven o'clock. Dave had met him by the front gate, and now the older man was leading him into the house, John's hand clasped with Dave's, who was glancing around at the large estate grounds, still amazed by the vastness of it.

"Jeeze, this place is *huge*," Dave stated, tilting his head back to see if he could see all three floors of the mansion, but unable to do so because of the darkness. He turned to his left to see a large lake, shimmering in the small amount of light from the partly visible moon, and when he turned to his right, he could only see the mansion walls stretching on and on. "Is this place made out of gold bricks, too?"

John paused briefly, turning to his companion. "Dave, I'm not as rich as you think I am."

"You're richer than I am," he pointed out, still studying the visible parts of the estate in the night.

"You're not rich at all," John reminded him, and only then did Dave turn to face him.

"Thanks for reminding me that you're slumming every time you come to my place," Dave said sarcastically, though a smile was playing on his lips. He briefly considered this fact, but quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind before he delved too much into it and came up with answers he didn't want.

"Come on," John said, letting out a small laugh before leading the younger man into the house. "We're almost there.

"Almost there..." Dave scoffed with incredulity. "We gotta walk through booby traps to get to the front door, or something?"

"No, just guards with automatic weapons."

"What??"

"Kidding, Dave. I'm kidding."

They entered the side door by the kitchen, and silently made their way inside the dimly lit house. As John led him down different hallways and through different rooms, Dave briefly wondered how he could possibly remember which way to go in a house this big. It must be nice to have money to spend, he considered silently, nearly knocking into the corner of a piece of furniture that if he broke he knew he'd never be able to replace it.

John suddenly stopped him before they entered another hallway, the Junior Resident nearly crashing into him. He leaned close to Dave, whispering in his ear: "You have to be really quiet. My Gamma's room is down this hallway, and I don't want to wake her, but this is the only way to get to my room without going around the whole house."

Dave was about to sarcastically remind him that this was no house when John moved inside the hallway, Dave having to follow because they were still holding hands. They tiptoed silently down the long hall, the younger man wondering which room exactly was his grandmother's when there was a metallic clinking sound, and John immediately picked up his pace, fearing his grandmother had awoken.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dave whispered insistently, stopping John from pulling him any further. The older man turned to Dave, who indicated behind them. "Those were my keys, I dropped my keys. I have to go get them. Don't move, I don't want to get lost."

John nodded, and the Junior Resident moved down the hallway silently, his eyes searching the dimly lit floor for his keys. He spotted them, the light glinting off of them from the small hall light, and quickly plucked them off of the floor, clasping his hand around them so they wouldn't make any noise. Standing upright, he began walking down the hallway again when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"John?" Millicent Carter called from her bedroom, which Dave was standing directly in front of. He looked up at John, wishing he could see the older man's eyes in the darkness. John was too far down the hallway for his grandmother to even begin to think that if he replied, the voice would come from the form standing in front of her open door. So Dave had no choice but to pretend to be him. "John, is that you?"

Standing straighter to appear taller, moving his hand to his mouth and pretending to cough into it, Dave replied in as best an impersonation of John's higher-pitched voice: "Yes?"

"What are you doing awake at this hour?" she inquired, and Dave prayed to God that she didn't venture out of her room. He didn't want to be the catalyst that resulted in her having a fatal MI and keeling over right then and there.

He coughed again, pretending to clear his throat. "Needed some water."

"Oh," she replied from her room. "Good night, then, John."

"'Night, Grandma," he said hastily, bolting down the hallway and towards John, who took his hand once more and quickly led him through another hallway, then up more stairs and finally to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, letting out a deep breath and turning towards the older man, who was turning on a small light. "Jesus Christ," he breathed.

"That was way too fucking close," John said, facing the younger man with raised eyebrows.

"You're telling me," Dave said, indicating himself as they began to undress themselves and get ready for bed. Dave had been hoping for some sex in that huge bed of John's again, but the older man had reminded him that Corrine and the family were going to be home, and he didn't want them to overhear anything, so just sleeping would occur tonight. But Dave had no problem with that: he would choose John just lying next to him over sleeping alone any night. "You have no idea how hard it is to imitate your voice."

"What's wrong with my voice?" John asked defensively, though Dave could tell that he was only half serious.

"Nothing," Dave said with a smile, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. John began to pull on a pair of sweatpants, but Dave stopped him, looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes that John loved. "Can we...sleep naked?"

"Dave, you know we can't do anything tonight," John reminded him, though he'd stopped in his task.

"I know," he replied, nodding. He smiled sheepishly, and if it were brighter in the room John would've seen the blush rise in Dave's cheeks. "I just...I mean, you know. If we...sleep naked, then I can...just...feel your skin against mine."

John smiled softly, touched by the Junior Resident's words, who rarely allowed himself to voice his own feelings. Standing flush to the younger man, he placed his hands on either side of Dave's face, pulling him into a gentle kiss before separating and moving to the bed, crawling under the covers with him. Very soon, they lay drowsily in each other's arms, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock over John's fireplace.

"John," Dave suddenly said, the sleepiness in his voice apparent.

"Mmm hmm?"

"This is the most comfortable mattress I've ever laid on."

"Really?" he mumbled, his eyes closed.

"Yep," he replied. "And this is the warmest blanket I've ever laid under. But do you know what the best part about this bed is?"

"What's that?"

Dave kissed him softly on the forehead, then whispered: "You're in it."

---

Sometimes I think the power is better than a hard drug

Sometimes I think the power is better than anything

Sometimes I think letting go is just like giving up

Sometimes all I think I wanna do is die inside

---

In the morning, the younger man had awoken first, John sleeping soundly beside him. Glancing at the clock, he'd noted that it was seven-thirty, so they were probably alone in the house, and he was beginning to get hungry, so he figured he could make them something to eat, and then wake John to join him. After pulling the first pair of boxers he saw - John's boxers - he ventured out of the room, desperately trying to remember how to get to the kitchen, having only been here two times. After doubling back twice, Dave finally found his way to said room, and began poking around in the refrigerator, looking for something he could make them.

"Excuse me?" He stood upright, accidentally hitting his head on one of the shelves, and whirled around to face Millicent Carter, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen in a thick robe and slippers. "But you're not John."

"Uh, no...no, I'm not," he replied, suddenly realizing that he was half-naked in this woman's kitchen - not to mention wearing a pair of her grandson's underwear. He glanced to his left and saw a kitchen towel next to the sink, and tried to inconspicuously pick it up and cover himself up as much of himself with it as possible. "Uh...John said you were, uh, going to be at a, uh, uh, a charity breakfast or something," he stammered as if he were an idiot. His heart was doing ninety as he tried to figure out what to say next, cursing himself because he could usually make up an excuse in even the stickiest of situations. "But, uh, you're...here."

"After arriving home late last night from a charity *dinner,* I decided to skip it," she said casually, pulling up a stool at the counter and sitting down. She indicated behind him. "Could you shut the refrigerator? You're letting all the cold air out."

"Sure," he said quickly, hastily closing the door behind him. He pointed in the general direction of John's bedroom. "Uh, John's still sleeping." He quickly corrected himself after realizing he'd only know that if he had been sleeping in the same room. "I think. Uh, I'm not sure, because I haven't seen him awake yet. See, last night he invited me over for a drink, and it got pretty late, so...uh...uh...he let me sleep here. In a guestroom," he added quickly. "I - I found my own way to the kitchen."

"Dr. Malucci, is it?" she asked, remembering him from John's congratulation party, remembering what her maternal instincts had picked up that night. He nodded, holding his breath instinctively. "Well, relax, Dr. Malucci. I know about you two."

"What?" was the slow reply. He narrowed his eyes, unsure of what exactly she meant. "You mean, John told you he was having me over last night?"

"No," she said, folding her hands atop the counter. "I mean I know that you and John are intimate."

"Uh...John and I? We're just friends. We work together."

"Dr. Malucci, can I ask you something?" she suddenly asked, crossing her arms over her chest now. He nodded slowly, not trusting his voice. "Do I look like an idiot?"

"No..." he replied, though she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Because I must if you think that I am about to believe the two of you aren't intimate when you're sneaking around my house at three in the morning holding hands and calling me *grandma*, and then the next morning you are standing in the middle of my kitchen half-naked wearing a pair of John's boxers!"

It took Dave a minute to begin thinking again. Then, he said: "Yeah, so, uh..."

"I may be old, but I haven't lost my wits yet," she stated. There was a brief silence between them, where Dave was calculating the best way to duck out of this situation and make his escape, while Millicent watched him squirm under her gaze. "So are you going to make some breakfast, Dr. Malucci, or am I going to have to do it myself?"

"Uh, sure." He glanced up at her, noting her smile of amusement, and he smiled too, relief washing over him as he realized that not only did John's grandmother know about them, but she also had no problem with it. "And, please, call me Dave."

"Well, in that case, Dave," she said, shrugging, "you can call me Gamma."

"Gamma?" Dave asked, testing the word as it rolled off of his tongue. He wrinkled his nose, unable to say the name without being embarrassed. "Isn't that one of those names that the grandkids eventually grow out of calling their grandmothers?"

"Not when you're as close to the grandkids as I am," she replied, hoping that perhaps she could get close to this unique individual as well. She knew that the reason John hadn't told her about Dave yet was probably because he was afraid she would admonish him for caring about another man, and she hoped that maybe by showing John that Dave was welcome into her home - her life - he could see that it was all right for him to feel that way.

"How about I call you Nonna," he said. She raised an eyebrow, wondering where he could've possibly come up with that name. "It means grandma in Italian. I think I probably would've called my grandmother that if I'd had one."

"Nonna?" She wrinkled her nose now. "It sounds like a breed of dog."

"Hey, take it or leave it," Dave said with a grin, shrugging as he did so. "I could always call you Milly."

"Nonna it is."

"Great," he said with a nod, the last of his nervousness leaving his body. He smiled one of his winning smiles, opening the refrigerator once more and indicating its contents. "So how about some breakfast, Nonna?"

---

All I wanna do is die inside

All I ever think about is you and me falling apart

---

Descending the stairs to the main floor one half-hour later, John Carter paused midway after hearing laughter coming from the kitchen. He thought he recognized Dave's laughter and his own Gamma's, but what would his grandmother and Dave be doing in the kitchen laughing? For one, Gamma wasn't even home, she was at a charity breakfast for some organization or another. For two, that would just be plain ridiculous. Continuing down the stairs once more, John figured that Dave was probably making breakfast for the two of them, listening to the nearby radio or watching the television in there or something.

"I have to say that that is the oddest thing I've ever heard!" Gamma's voice. Definitely Gamma's voice. "It really happened?"

"You bet." Dave's voice. Definitely Dave's voice. Oh, my God... "You should see half of the things we see in the ER, Nonna. It'd just blow you away."

John abruptly stopped in his tracks, nearly falling down the stairs as he did so. Dave was in his kitchen, talking with his Gamma, and he was calling her *what*?? Had he just been sucked into an alternate universe?? Rushing down the stairs, he moved to the kitchen, needing to witness this to see if it was really happening. And when he stood in the doorway of the room, Gamma and Dave turning to face him with warm smiles, he cursed the fact that the Earth never opened up and swallowed you whole when you wanted it to.

"Hey, John," Dave said. He indicated the pans on the stove, filled with different foods. "I made breakfast. Want some?"

"Dave really is an excellent cook," Gamma went on to say, nodding with satisfaction as she took a bite of her breakfast. "You really should try these omelets, they're wonderful."

"I'm sure they are," he stated, a note of intolerance in his voice audible. He turned to the Junior Resident. "Dave, may I please speak with you privately?"

"Uh...sure," he said, exchanging glances with Millicent. He knew this couldn't be good. "I'll be right back. And don't you move, I've got a million stories just like the one I just told you," he said to her, and she held up her hands in resignation. Leaving the table, he moved into the adjoining hall with John, who was looking seriously pissed off. "What is it?"

"What is it?" he hissed incredulously, his voice low so Gamma couldn't hear him. "What is it?? You tell me, Dave. Just what the *fuck* do you think you're doing?"

"Excuse me?" Dave asked, taken aback by the Chief Resident's harsh words. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? What is my problem?? You're my problem, Dave. But the real question: is what the fuck is *your* problem, Dave?" John spat, pacing throughout the small hall. He glanced at Dave, his eyes fiery with anger. "What do you think you're doing having breakfast with my grandmother?"

Dave was totally and utterly confused. "Well, it's morning, and you generally have breakfast in the morning, so..."

"Don't get smart with me!" John whispered harshly, cutting him off before he could go any further. "This isn't funny and this isn't cute! This is serious. You know what I mean: now she knows that you and I are...together. Are you stupid, or something? Or maybe you're just out to ruin my life!"

"Oh..." Recognition crossed Dave's face as he realized why John was so upset. "John, don't worry, she has no problem with it."

"No problem with it??" John asked incredulously. "Of course she's going to have a problem with it!"

"You repeat a lot when you're angry," Dave noted, leaning against the wall offhandedly. "Did you know that?"

"Is that all you can do?" John asked, annoyed as he paused in his pacing, turning to the Junior Resident. "Be sarcastic? Because now isn't really the time. My grandmother just found out that her grandson is seeing a man, how do you think she's going to feel about that? As indifferent as you are??"

"Why don't you ask her?" the two men heard from behind them, and they turned to see Millicent standing in the doorway between the kitchen and hallway, having overheard parts of their conversation. She turned to Dave briefly. "Dave, would you mind if John and I shared a moment alone?"

"No, ma'am," he replied, shaking his head and making a hasty retreat upstairs, having finished his breakfast and needing to get into some clothes so he could head out to work on time. He could say a more formal goodbye to Millicent once he was finished getting ready. "I'll see you both later."

"John, come in here and sit down," she said to her grandson, motioning towards the kitchen. Sitting down at her previous spot, John sat across from her, where Dave had been sitting earlier. She watched him carefully, noting his nervousness and apprehension, but remained silent, waiting for him to look up at her. When he finally did, she finally said: "Two years ago, a man took away your happiness overnight. One month ago, Dave brought it back to you. He makes you happy, John, something that I've wanted for you for so long, something that you deserve after all that you've been through. He seems like such a nice young man, and he can certainly cook - something you can't do for the life of you." She turned serious once more. "John, don't let your inhibitions hold you back when you're finally happy. And I want you to know that you are my grandson, and I love you no matter who *you* love, man or woman."

John looked up from under his brow, touched by his grandmother's words. She loved him, even if he was involved with another man. She wasn't going to shun him or denounce him from the family or wipe out his trust fund or anything remotely as drastic, because she loved him. She was perfectly fine with the fact that he was with Dave, and she was even happy for him - happy because he was happy.

"Now go upstairs and apologize to our guest, John."

"I was pretty hard on him, wasn't I?"

"You were horrid, John," she said. "And I don't ever want to hear you using that language in my house again."

---

Never said I was innocent

I will burn in hell for the things I've done to you

Never said I was anything good...

---

The clouds that had enveloped the night sky were now gone, having moved west of Chicago, and now the sun was shining brightly, offering slight warmth during the cold of winter. Bathed in this warmth was Dave Malucci, as he walked down the driveway of the Carter mansion, heading towards the road where the cab would be arriving in a few minutes. He'd considered waiting for John to tell him that he was leaving, but he didn't want to hear any more of John's accusations or insults today, so he left quickly while John was still speaking with his grandmother.

Frankly, John had hurt his feelings, so as he saw the older man coming down the driveway in his Jeep, probably in search of the missing doctor, he kept walking, ignoring the Chief Resident as he kept his gaze at the ground beneath his feet.

"Dave," John called, putting the Jeep in park and quickly hopping out of it to chase the younger man down the long driveway, who was steadily quickening his pace. "Dave!" he called again, jogging to catch up with him. He grabbed the younger man's arm, letting Dave's momentum swing him towards John. "Dave, wait."

"Get off of me, John," he said, pulling his arm away from him and continuing on his trek.

"I thought I was going to drive you home," John stated, pausing briefly in the driveway.

"I called a cab from the house."

"What??" John asked in surprise, immediately resuming following Dave. Once caught up with him, he tried to walk with the younger man, but he couldn't keep up with his pace. "Dave, why would you do that?"

"Wouldn't want to bother you," he said with a sardonic smile, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "I mean, if I'm ruining your life, then I might as well just get out of it as soon as I can, right?"

"What are you...?" he began to ask, but then remembered that he'd said something about Dave ruining his life when they'd been arguing in the hall. Damn it, sometimes he really should think before he decided to speak. "Dave, I didn't mean it before, I was just..."

"Then you shouldn't have said it," he interrupted, suddenly stopping. John paused as well, a few steps in front of Dave, and when he turned back to the younger man, he could clearly see hurt in his eyes. "Look, I know you may not think much of me, but that doesn't mean you can talk to me like that. And I may not be that much, but at least I'm not rude and I treat you with respect." He paused trying to gather the right words. "I care about you more than you think, John, and despite what you think, I'm not out to ruin your life. But if I am, then maybe we should just quit it right now."

"Dave..." John tried, taking a step towards the younger man, who only took another step back, holding out his hands defensively.

"No! John, the last thing I want to do is make you unhappy, and if I do, then..." he trailed off, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked up at John again, sighing. "Forget it. Go back to pretending. Hell, maybe you could even find a nice rich girl, settle down and make everyone happy."

"I'm sorry!" John implored. "I was angry, and people say stupid things when they're angry. More than angry I was scared, Dave. I didn't know what my grandmother was going to do. It may be easy for you to come out but it isn't for me, especially when someone does it for me."

"I didn't say anything, John," Dave interjected. "She figured it out herself. I mean, come on! I was standing in the kitchen in *your* boxers! I would never say anything to anyone about you, about us. I know you aren't ready for it. But you just thought the worst of me. You don't trust me, and from the sound of what you said before you don't respect me, either. Hell, it sounded like you don't even *like* me."

"Dave," John said, knowing no matter what he was saying, Dave still believed that John didn't think much of him. And he wondered if he was just saying the wrong things, or if there just wasn't anything he *could* say that wouldn't hurt Dave. "Dave, I don't think you're stupid, and I know you'd never hurt me. I was just scared. Please, believe me, Dave. Please?"

There was a brief pause. Then, quietly: "You know, my old man used to talk to me like that. And I swore I'd never let anyone else do that. But here I am, letting you talk to me like that because I..." He stopped, letting the sentence hang, allowing John to contemplate what he'd wanted to say.

"Because you what?" John asked softly, wishing he'd continued with what he was about to say, needing to hear those words because somehow - even if it was crazy and irrational - John swore it would've made all of his problems disappear or at least seem small and stupid.

Dave looked up at John, his eyes squinting against the bright morning sun, which was still rising behind John. "I don't know why you want to be with me," he stated, leaving John's question unanswered. He suddenly looked away. "You...you still want...to be with me, right?"

"Of course I still want to be with you, Dave," he said softly, taking another step towards Dave, who didn't try to back away this time. John reached out and took Dave's hands in his, looking down into the younger man's eyes. He could see the fear in them, the genuine fear of John leaving him, and only then did the Chief Resident realize just how much he meant to Dave. "Dave, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that, and saying the things I did."

"And for being a dick?" Dave interrupted, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"And for being a dick," John clarified, taking the younger man into his arms and hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, Dave. I didn't mean any of the things I said." He pulled back to look into Dave's eyes once more. "Do you forgive me?"

Dave nodded silently, giving John a closed smile. The two men embraced once more for several minutes, and John briefly considered that his grandmother knowing probably wasn't so bad. Now they wouldn't have to sneak around, and he wouldn't have to keep making up excuses. But most of all he was glad that he was finally being honest with her. And, walking arm and arm with Dave towards John's Jeep, he smiled, knowing he could get through this day with the events of this morning under his belt.

* * *

Now, laughing while sitting inside of the cafeteria with Abby, looking over the newspaper catalogue of apartments available with her, the nurse having figured out that the two men were moving in together, John considered that perhaps Dave and himself together wasn't something that needed to be kept secret. Finally, he could let go of those inhibitions that everyone was talking about, and just be with Dave - more importantly: be happy with Dave. And he didn't have to care who overheard or oversaw anything because no one else cared. Smiling contently, pointing out an apartment to Abby that was absolutely perfect in every way, John couldn't wait to share his epiphany with Dave after work.

-------------------------------------

Let me be the one to make the pain go away

Shed my skin and show a brand new face

You know I just wanna know that you're okay

-------------------------------------

"I want to come out."

Dave didn't even look up. "Of where?"

"The...you know..." John started, wondering what the hell else he could possibly be talking about coming out of. Dave then looked up at him, and John raised his eyebrows in an attempt to get his point across, but Dave only raised his eyebrows as well.

"The bar?" he asked, wondering if perhaps John wanted to go home. Maybe he was feeling uncomfortable around alcohol or something, Dave mused as he glanced at John's soda, knowing John didn't drink since recovering from his drug addiction. It was something that they still hadn't spoken of - John's drug addiction, that is - though both men knew that Dave was aware that it'd happened, even if John had desperately tried to hide that fact from his coworkers. "Do you want to go home?"

"No," John said, exasperation laced with his voice. He sighed, leaning forward in his chair, and Dave followed suit. "You know...the...closet."

"You do?" Dave asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Jeeze, this was the last thing Dave had expected, it wasn't a wonder that he was a little slow on the uptake. He smiled broadly, and in a moment of boldness placed his hand on top of John's. "What brought this on?"

"I don't know," John said, shrugging, and even though he'd just announced that he wanted to come out with their relationship, he still felt uncomfortable with Dave's hand on top of his in public, and glanced around surreptitiously. Thankfully, no one was watching or had noticed - yet. But it was time to face these fears, John thought to himself, so it didn't matter who was watching or noticing. "I mean, my Gamma knows and now Abby knows, and they have no problem with it, so why should anyone else? And if they do...fuck 'em."

Dave's smile broadened. "My thoughts exactly. Wow, this is really great."

"Oh," John said, remembering something. He reached inside of his coat pocket, which was hanging over the back of his chair, and pulled out the catalogue of apartments available, handing it to Dave. "I found a place you might like."

Dave took the newspaper, glanced it over, and frowned. "It's really nice, but I can't afford it."

"I can," John replied casually, leaning back in his chair.

"John," Dave said, looking up from the paper. "If we're going to get a place, then we're splitting the rent."

"Yeah," he said, then took a sip of his soda. "Sixty-forty."

"Try fifty-fifty."

"Dave," John said, placing his hand over the younger man's now. "In most...'normal' relationships, the man takes responsibility for most of the finances."

There was a pause before Dave looked up with narrowed eyes. "Are you saying that I'm the woman of this relationship? Because I am *not* the woman of this relationship."

John smiled at Dave, who was looking rather cute miffed. "I think you are."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you're wrong."

"I think you should prove it."

"I think I will."

-------------------------------------

Let me be the one to bring us back from the dead

I will take the blame for everything!

I just wanna help you forget

-------------------------------------

Having left the bar minutes later to go home and do just that, Dave suddenly pinned John to the wall outside in the darkness of the night, kissing him hard and running his tongue over those wonderful lips. John wanted to come out, to tell everyone that he was Dave's and Dave's was his, and there was no better feeling in the world than that. Plus, they were going to move in together into an apartment that was ten times better than the one Dave currently resided in. But first they were going to have sex, lots and lots of hot sex. A group of men passed by, laughing loudly, but Dave didn't even register them. It didn't matter anymore because they were coming out, so he didn't care.

Maybe he should've.

They paused near the two men, one stopping the rest, and as the laughter died down, he asked: "Dave?"

The younger man turned, his head snapping around at the familiar voice to see five faces of his hockey team. Oh, shit. After missing a major game a few nights ago to sleep in with John, they'd been the last people he wanted to see. And upon noting their hard expressions and angry eyes, he could tell he'd been wrong - he didn't want to see them at all.

"Hey, Pete, guys," Dave replied, nodding as he pulled away from John but kept one hand pressed to the wall, leaning against it. He darted his eyes from the glares, scratching the nape of his neck nervously. "What's up?"

"What the fuck is this?" Jake, the tall blonde who played defense, asked as he looked from Dave to John, and then back to Dave. He smiled, though there was no humor in it. "You're a fag!"

"No!" Dave immediately said, not liking how this conversation started or where he thought it was going to inevitably go. "No, I'm...just..."

"The fuck you ain't!" Mike exclaimed, his words slurred from too much drinking. Had they been inside of the bar when Dave and John had? Maybe they'd seen the two sharing a drink and had followed them out. John exchanged worried glances with Dave, wondering just who these guys were. "Kissing another guy, that makes you a fag!"

"So how long you been a faggot?" Pete spat, the obvious leader out of the pack. "Were you a faggot when you showered with us? That why you play hockey, so you can check out naked guys? So you can check *us* out??"

"No, I - "

"What about all those girls?" James asked before Dave could get in another word, recalling all those times Dave had brought chicks with him to the after-game parties, sometimes leaving with more than one. "I thought you liked girls."

"I do like girls," Dave clarified. He sighed with exasperation, ignoring John's worried glances. "Look, let's just go inside and have a beer, and we can talk about this. Okay?"

"I don't drink with faggots," Pete stated with a smirk, and the rest of the men agreed similarly.

"So...what?? You're bisexual or something?" James asked, clearly still trying to figure this out in his drunken stupor.

"Yes, James. I'm bisexual."

"So *this* is why you missed the big game?" Jake asked. "Because you were fucking some faggot??! We lost without our star goalie, you know."

"Yeah, I know we lost the game. I'm sorry," Dave replied as casually as possible, knowing that these five men were the jerks out of the whole team, taking games too seriously for Dave's liking, sometimes deliberately starting fights with opposing teams - even sometimes their own members. "But I got held up at work, and I couldn't..."

"Hanging out with this guy instead, Dave? Admit it! You were too busy to come to the game because you were fucking some guy up the ass," Mike interrupted before Dave could get in another word, taking a step closer to John and glancing over him in disgust. He turned to Pete. "But I thought you had to be a chick to be somebody's bitch? Guess not when you're a faggot."

"Guys, stop it. I told you, I got held up at work," Dave insisted as he moved to step between John and the three men. Doug, who had stayed near Dave thus far, reached out and placed an open palm on the Junior Resident's chest to stop him from doing so. "Doug, get your hand off of me."

"Make me," he replied, shoving Dave hard into the brick wall, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"Hey," John intervened. *These* were Dave's hockey buddies? How could he stand these guys?? Well, there were only five here, so John supposed that the rest of the team might not be so bad. But as for these guys, he didn't trust their rationality and didn't like the direction this was heading in. "Let's just - "

"Shut up, bitch," James spat, pushing John into the wall as well, though not too roughly.

"Don't you dare touch him," Dave spat angrily, his muscles tensing instinctively and his fists clenching at his sides. "He didn't do anything to you."

"We lost the game because of him," James reminded him, before his eyes traveled over John, his dark gaze laced with perversion. "I can understand though, he *is* one fine-looking bitch."

Loud laughter roared over the five men, but Dave immediately silenced it, saying: "Stop calling him that."

"Why?" Pete asked angrily, standing flush to Dave, deliberately getting in the Junior Resident's face. "What are you going to do about it? Or maybe you're his bitch, and he's gonna take care of me? Are you the one that gets fucked up the ass? Or do you take turns?" He suddenly turned to Mike. "How *do* you figure that out, huh?"

"Beats the hell outta me," Mike stated.

Pete turned back to Dave, now taunting him - and dangerously so; John could tell that Dave was about to snap. "So, Dave? Are you the bitch and this faggot here is the man? You get fucked up the ass? You suck him off, too??"

In an instant, faster than John had ever seen him move, Dave's fist made contact with Pete's nose, a crunching noise resounding through the cold night air. The man stumbled back, holding his blood-spurting nose as he did so. He turned to Dave in surprise, and then charged at him, grabbing his shoulders and throwing him into the wall, the back of Dave's head making solid contact with the brick.

"Dave!" John exclaimed just as the younger man let out a short cry of pain. He attempted to assist the Junior Resident, but Doug kept a firm grip on his arm, Mike standing in his way as well. So he could only watch helplessly as Dave received a sudden punch in his stomach before he could even recover from his head hitting the wall. "Stop it!!"

"Shut up, bitch!" Mike yelled, shoving John back before he could get past them. Dave feebly reached out with a fist, but he was obviously dizzy from his hit to the head, so Pete had enough time to move out of the way, Dave stumbling past him. Jake grabbed the Junior Resident's arm, turning him and pushing him into the wall again, but luckily Dave had enough wits about him to hold out his hands to cushion himself before his face could make contact with the hard brick. "Watch out!"

Pete heard Mike's warning too late, and before he knew it, their star goalie was delivering a solid punch to his stomach, causing Pete to double over, gasping for breath. James grabbed Dave's shoulders, pushing him as Jake tripped him, and the Junior Resident fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Knowing what was coming next, he curled up into a ball to defend himself against the kicks that he soon began to receive.

"Stop it!" John repeated, trying desperately to get past Doug and Mike, who were watching with an intensity in their eyes that told him they wished they could get in on the beating. Drunken with beer and violence and adrenaline, the five men began to laugh, taunting Dave with obscenities and insults.

"What's the matter, Malucci?" James asked, delivering another kick to Dave's abdomen. "Can't get up?"

"Come on, you pussy!" Mike called. "Fight back!! What - fags can't fight back?"

Determined to kick his way through Dave's spine, Jake spat: "Got anything to say for yourself, you little cocksucker??"

"Stop it!" John pleaded again, his voice cracking with fear. "Please, stop it!"

"Faggot," Pete said, and then spat on Dave's face, who flinched when it hit him. Another kick. "You make me sick."

"Stop it!!" John cried, trying to get past the two men so he could help Dave but unable to do so because the two men kept a firm grip on him, disallowing him from getting very far. "Stop it, you're *killing* him!!"

"What's going on out here?" In an instant, everything stopped as all of the men turned to face the owner/bartender of The Game Room, Anthony Pizzi, who was standing in the entranceway. Glancing over what was going on outside of his own bar, he immediately cast his eyes over the five culprits. "You better get the fuck outta here before I call the cops and have you all arrested, do you hear me??" The five men immediately took off into their cars and drove off, hooting with laughter as they did so. Anthony then turned to John. "Do you need an ambulance?"

"Yeah, my friend, he..." John trailed off, turning to Dave, who was still lying on the ground. When he'd turned away from him and to the bartender's interruption, Dave had been struggling. But now, when he'd turned back to him, John's heart was gripped with fear as he saw that he wasn't moving at all.

-------------------------------------

Sometimes I think

Letting go is just like giving up

Sometimes all I think about is falling apart

-------------------------------------

--------------------------- Chapter Eleven: Save You ---------------------------

I wanted to be like you

I wanted everything

So I tried to be like you

And I got swept away

-------------------------------------

John scrambled to the ground at Dave's side, his heart beating quickly as he checked the younger man's vitals without moving him. Oh, thank God, John thought as he found that Dave's pulse and breath sounds were strong. He made sure to keep Dave's neck as immobilized as possible as he turned him onto his back, calling his name as he did so.

"Dave, wake up," he said, gently shaking his shoulders. Unzipping the Junior Resident's jacket, he pushed the fabric aside and slipped his hands under Dave's shirt, beginning a rib count after knowing that the many kicks he took to the chest must've done some kind of damage. He glanced up after hearing a moan escape the younger man's lips. "Yeah, that's it. Come on, Dave. Wake up."

"John?" he mumbled, opening his eyes just enough to see John groping him painfully in the middle of the sidewalk. His brow furrowed in confusion, the light behind the Chief Resident giving him a supernatural aura. "What are you doing? That hurts."

"Thank God!" John breathed quietly, and then asked, watching Dave carefully: "Can you tell me your name and where you are?"

"Dave." The Junior Resident glanced around, his eyes squinting against the light that was shining from the streetlight into them at this angle. "The Game Room."

"What about the day?"

"Uh...December, uh..."

"It's okay," John assured him, able to tell that Dave was struggling to remember what day it was. "It's the twelfth, but don't worry about it. I think you have a concussion."

"Do you need an ambulance?" the old bartender persisted for the second time, now standing on the sidewalk next to them. Worry flashed over his gentle blue eyes, recognizing John and Dave from the visits they paid to his bar. They were nice kids, they didn't deserve this.

"No," Dave answered, just as John replied: "Yes."

"So which is it?" Anthony asked. He turned to Dave. "You don't look too good, Dave. I think you should listen to John here and let me call one."

"No," Dave said, attempting to sit up but John kept a firm hand on his chest, disabling him from doing so. God, he felt like he'd been ripped apart and put back together the wrong way. Suddenly, he groaned, his hand moving to his head as a wave of nausea passed over him. "Shit. Get off me, John. Help me up."

"No," John immediately replied. "Don't move."

"Are you sure you don't want an ambulance?" Anthony asked, his face wrinkled into a frown.

"Dave, I think Anthony's right," John stated, his eyes displaying his concern. Despite that fact, Dave pushed John's hand away with the little strength that he had, and managed to sit up unsteadily. John turned to the old bartender, not noticing the younger man sitting up just yet. "Call an ambulance. Dave! Lay down! Now."

"No!" Dave insisted, looking up at John with an odd expression in his eyes. "The last thing I need is to go to County strapped to a gurney. I don't even need to go to the hospital! I'm fine...I've taken a few hits in my life, this is nothing."

"Dave, you are going to the hospital. Period, end of discussion."

"Fine, but only if you take me," Dave said. And when he saw John's skeptical expression, he pleaded, urgency laced in his voice: "Please? I don't want to go strapped to a gurney in the back of an ambulance."

John glanced at Dave, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was almost as if Dave was afraid...but not afraid of going to the hospital, he agreed to going...but only if John would take him. Why? He kept mentioning being "strapped" to a gurney. Was he...was he afraid of being restrained? Leaning close to the younger man, he whispered into Dave's ear: "Dave, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," the younger man said, but then insisted: "I just want you to take me to the hospital. Just you...no ambulance, no big deal."

"Why can't the ambulance take you?" He could immediately tell Dave was searching his mind for a liable answer - a liable *lie*. "Dave, are you...afraid?"

"What?? No...no..." Dave would've shaken his head furiously at the intention had he not been very dizzy as it was. He glanced up at John with pleading eyes. "I just...can you please, just do this one thing for me, John? Don't ask me why, please don't ask me why. Just take me to the ER yourself...please?"

"Fine." John sighed, his brow furrowed in slight puzzlement. Turning to Anthony, he apologized: "Sorry to bother you, Anthony. But I'll make sure Dave gets to the hospital all right. Thanks, anyway."

"No problem," he replied, heading back up the stairs after making sure John got Dave standing and somewhat steady. He turned back once more, watching the young men move awkwardly towards John's Jeep, which was parked a few yards away. "Be careful!"

-------------------------------------

I didn't know that it was so cold

And you needed someone

To show you the way

So I took your hand and we figured out

That when the tide comes

I'd take you away

-------------------------------------

"I need a gurney!" John called to no one in specific as he entered the emergency room, one of Dave's arms slung over his shoulders, John's own arm wrapped around the younger man's waist, supporting his weight. He turned to the first doctor that he saw: Kerry Weaver. And she was fast approaching after hearing the urgency in John's voice. "Dr. Weaver, Dave's hurt. I need a gurney."

"I don't need a gurney," Dave protested, shaking his head, which was throbbing with a dull ache that started at the base of his skull and radiated outwards. Not to mention the other bruises on every part of his body that were each punctuated with pain. He sighed, hating all of the drama he knew he was about to receive.

And thus it began.

"What happened??" Kerry asked, her eyes wide and full of worry as she took one of Dave's arms over her own shoulders.

"Kerry, let me," they heard, and Dave's stomach dropped as he recognized the voice of one Croatian doctor. Kerry moved and Luka bent down a little to accommodate to Dave's height, and together he and John moved the younger man to an empty exam room, the Chief of the ED leading the way.

Once inside, Dave sat heavily on the empty exam bed, grateful because he wasn't sure how much longer he would've been able to stand. Kerry turned back to the two men now, her previous question having been left unanswered. "What happened to you two?"

"We got jumped outside of a bar," John stated, who was for some reason avoiding all eye contact with Dave.

"Why wasn't he immobilized?" Luka asked, his question aimed at John, his tone sounding mildly angry and slightly annoyed.

"He refused," John said, though he knew how lame it sounded.

"He refused?" Luka repeated mockingly. "Carter, you're a doctor for God's sake. You know better!"

"Hey!" Dave interrupted, and the two men looked at him. "I'm in the room, for Christ's sake, you can ask me. Yes, Luka, I refused. I wouldn't let him immobilize him, and I wouldn't let him call an ambulance either. So if anyone has any problem with that, yell at me...talk to me..."

"Well, you're being immobilized now," Dr. Weaver interjected with finality in her voice as she moved towards a nearby supply closet.

"The hell I am," Dave declared as he began to stand.

"Dr. Malucci!" she said, as Luka placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him seated.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, brushing Luka's hand away, but immediately regretting doing such when he saw the clear worry in the older man's eyes. He quickly turned away, towards Dr. Weaver, who seemed to be the only person he could look at right now. "Listen, I agreed to be checked out and examined, but I am *not* being immobilized. And if you try to, I swear to God I'll walk right out of this ER. That's the deal, take it or leave it!"

"Calm down Dave," John said softly, somewhat exasperatedly.

"Dave!" Dr. Weaver exclaimed. "You need to be immobilized, and that's that. Now you can lay there and behave or you can act like a child, just like how you are now. Hell, leave if you want to, but in your condition, I doubt you would make it very far."

God, she could be such a bitch sometimes, Dave thought as she began to adjust the cervical collar so it could fit him. But he was off duty and wasn't going to take any of her shit, especially now. "Dr. Weaver, I will fight all of you if I have to, and I don't want to hurt anyone...but I can't - I *won't* be tied down. I'm not a crazy person and I'm not an animal, and I *will* sign out AMA if I have to."

"You have a head injury," she simply said, as she kept fiddling with that Goddamned collar. "Which clearly means that you are not in the right state of mind to make that decision yourself."

"That's bullshit!" Dave hissed, glancing at Luka and John for help, who both seemed to find the floor more interesting right now.

"Dave," Dr. Weaver started exasperatedly, though she was clearly concerned by Dave's current mental state...he seemed so out of control. "We just want to make sure that we don't make your injuries worse. You know that, you're a doctor, you would do the same for your patients."

"No! I want your word that you won't tie me down, or I'm outta here!" he persisted urgently, and when they were silent, he began to stand but fell back as a wave of dizziness hit him.

"Okay, Dave, okay," Dr. Weaver said with a sigh after watching him attempt to stand. "You have my word. Now will you please just sit down and stop moving all over the place?"

John glanced at Dave with concern, and although the younger man wouldn't meet his gaze, he nodded in agreement before sitting down heavily and sighing tiredly.

"Now what happened tonight?" She glanced at him, waiting for him to elaborate as she began to take Dave's vitals, starting first with his heartbeat and breath sounds, and then his blood pressure. As John began to speak, she used her penlight to check Dave's pupils and make sure they were equal, round and reactive to light, which they were. "We'd just left the bar, and these guys approached us."

"Did you know them?" Luka asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood nearby, his expression hard and unreadable. Meanwhile, Kerry slipped her hands on either side of Dave's face upon noting that he had a black left eye, and began to use her thumbs to press down on his cheekbones and the bones surrounding his eyes.

"No," John quickly replied. Too much would be compromised if the police got to the guys that did this. They could tell them what they saw - Dave and John kissing against the brick wall - and then the police, in turn, could tell Kerry because she was the treating physician. At least he thought so, because he wasn't that keen on law, but he didn't want to take that chance. And after what had happened, he knew that the hospital getting wind of it definitely wasn't a possibility. Who knew how badly others could take it if they came out? John then continued with his story: "They didn't really hurt me, but they sure did a number on Dave. He was out for at least a few minutes."

"Ow..." Dave said, flinching as Kerry pressed on the tender flesh of his bruised eye. He pulled away, wrapping his hand around her wrist and stopping her from poking and prodding his face any longer. "Okay, stop it! I think we've established that it hurts."

"You know I'm just checking to make sure you didn't break any bones," Kerry stated, the worry still visible in her gentle eyes.

"Did they mug you?" Luka now asked, having taken it upon himself to play detective.

"No," John answered, Dave desperately trying to make eye contact with him now that Kerry had left his face alone. Why was John lying about the fact that Dave knew their attackers?

"Then why would they do this? If you didn't know them?" Kerry piped up, holding out Dave's arms and checking them for bruising. There was a clear print of a boot on his upper arm, amongst other bruises, but no lacerations. She looked up at Dave. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Dave asked, clear surprise on his face. He glanced at John apprehensively, before looking back to the Chief. "Why? I mean...I didn't think I was your type, Chief," he joked nervously, though he tried to cover it up with a sly smile. Perhaps if he pissed her off enough, she would leave him alone.

"Malucci," she began, pointing her finger at him. "Don't push me. I let you have your way when it came to being immobilized, but another comment like that and I'm going to assume that you have a severe head injury, which necessitates you being tied to that bed. Now take off your shirt."

"Why, Chief? I'm fine." His voice was pleading now, and even though he knew it he couldn't seem to hide the pain no matter how hard he tried. "My chest doesn't hurt," he lied quickly.

"I just want to check out your chest and back, see if any ribs are broken and how much bruising there is," she replied, not noticing Dave's sudden nervousness. He glanced at John again, and only then did the Chief Resident realize why Dave hadn't wanted to take an ambulance to the hospital: to avoid this. He didn't want to take off his shirt or any of his clothes, because he didn't want anyone to see his scars. He didn't want to hear questions and he certainly didn't want to give answers. "Dave, just take off your shirt. And then I'm going to want a CT-scan of your head, you probably have a concussion. I also want a C-spine."

"Uh, John did a rib count before," Dave said hastily, looking at the older man, hoping that he got the message. God, if the Chief got his shirt off she'd see all those nasty scars. Perhaps she might ignore it, pretend that she didn't see it - but she would. She'd see them and then he'd be "different" in her eyes, he would be weak, and there was nothing he could do to change that. "You don't have to do one, right? Can't I just get a head-CT and go home?"

"Dave, please just work with me here, okay?" she asked with exasperation evident in her voice. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and she glanced at John. "Wait, you said you didn't know them? But they didn't rob you. Why did they jump you, then?"

"They thought we were...together," John said, once again avoiding eye contact with Dave and Luka, both who he could see watching him in his peripheral vision. The Attending moved his gaze from the Chief Resident and to the Junior Resident, who met his eyes for only a moment before shifting them back to John.

"But you were together," Kerry said, slightly puzzled. "You went to the bar together, didn't you?"

"No, I mean as in...dating," he replied tentatively. She narrowed her eyes, glancing at Dave, whose expression was almost one of disbelief - but not at the notion of John and Dave dating, but at the fact that John was lying. He'd just said that he wanted to come out, and now he'd changed his mind? And what he was thinking was evident in his expression, and John was afraid that Kerry was going to pick up on it, so - to take her attention away from Dave - the Chief Resident gave out a small laugh as he said: "Can you believe that? I mean, we weren't even doing anything to make them think that. And...me and *Dave*?? I think I have better taste than that!"

"Imagine that," the Junior Resident spat. Dave looked away, his smile not sharing the humor that John was, but showing his incredulity. The Chief Resident might as well have just slapped him in the face, because it sure as hell would've been a lot less painful. Glancing up at John, he held up his hands, motioning Kerry to stop. "You know what? I don't need this."

"What do you mean?" Kerry asked, but John knew that Dave wasn't speaking of his examination. "Dave, you can't go home."

"Oh, but I am," he stated, standing on unsteady feet. He took a moment to gain his bearings before moving past the protesting Kerry and John, storming out of the exam room, his expression a mix of pain, anger and hurt, as he fought to hold back tears.

"Dave, wait," Luka called, fixing John with a well-deserved glare before all three left the room and after the injured man.

"Dave, I still need to get a head-CT and a C-spine!" Kerry called, just as John said: "Who's going to drive you home??"

"I'm fine and I'll take the El!" Dave said, and even as he said that, he knew that the El wasn't very safe at this time of night, and he had to pause briefly in a bout of dizziness. Taking a deep breath, he began walking again, but once again stopped, this time unable to continue. He fell forward, reaching out blindly for something, but his fingers only found air and he hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. The last thing he heard was the three doctors screaming before his world was once more enveloped in black.

-------------------------------------

If you want to

I can save you

I can take you away from here

So lonely inside

So busy out there

And all you wanted

Was somebody who cares

-------------------------------------

"Okay," Kerry said with a sigh, her hand to her forehead as she tried to think. Dave had just collapsed in the middle of her ER, and after John, Luka and Malik had gotten him onto a gurney, they'd transferred him back into the exam room, where he was now lying, hooked up to an IV and an EKG. "I want a head-CT, C-spine, CBC, urine, glucose. And type and cross - just in case."

"He's A+," John said quietly, knowing that surgery probably wouldn't be necessary for the concussion that he had, but the simple precaution of having type-specific blood on hand just in case startled him.

"Malik, get a suture kit from Sutures, please? He's going to need it for that cut on his forehead," Kerry said, speaking of the laceration that Dave had managed to obtain when he'd collapsed, the same one that Luka was now irrigating and cleaning. She glanced down at Dave then, as Malik was leaving the room and leaving the four doctors alone. "John, can you help me get him into a gown?"

"Luka and I can do it," he immediately said, causing Kerry to glance up at him with narrowed eyes. He met her eye, but quickly looked away to Luka, who was watching with interest but not offering an opinion. "I mean, I'm sure you've got patients waiting..."

"It's fine. And I'm sure you're going to need help," she replied, pulling a gown from the closet nearby. She moved back to the exam bed, opening up the gown and placing it to the side. She picked up a pair of scissors from a nearby tray table, holding them up. "Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?"

"Uh..." John said, searching his mind quickly for an excuse as to why Kerry couldn't take off his clothes. He glanced at Luka for help, who had to know why he didn't want Kerry to see Dave without his clothes, but the bastard just stood there, cleaning Dave's wound. Turning back to the Chief, he saw her looking up at him expectantly, an eyebrow cocked because of his sudden strange behavior. "You can't," was all he could think of saying. Yeah, good one, John, he thought to himself. That'll make her stop.

"Why not?" she asked, tossing him a puzzling glance.

"Because, uh..." he stammered. "Because...that's Dave's favorite shirt. I think he said it was his lucky shirt or something..."

"John, you're babbling. Now what the hell is going on?"

"Dave has a skin condition."

"What kind of a skin condition?" she immediately asked.

Shit! "Uh...a rash, or...something. He wouldn't go into specifics. I saw it the other day, it's really bad. He'd be very embarrassed if either of you saw it."

"Trust me, John," she said, a wry smile on her face as she reached for Dave. "I've been working in the ER for about 20 years. Luka for probably just as long. We've seen worse."

"Don't touch him!" he suddenly exclaimed, visibly startling Dr. Weaver, who immediately pulled her hands away from the Junior Resident's unconscious form. Luka followed suit, but his slight hesitation didn't register in her mind. "It's contagious!"

"I'll wear gloves," she stated, exasperation in her voice as she reached for a nearby box of the standard latex gloves that were kept in almost every room of the hospital. She tossed a pair to John, who hastily caught them, accidentally dropping one on the floor. He picked it up quickly, standing to see Dr. Weaver gloved and waiting for him.

"Dr. Weaver, I really don't think he wants you to see him without his clothes," John said evenly. "He'll be really embarrassed, and he'll hate me for letting you take his clothes off."

"John," she said, clear annoyance in her voice. "Either you cut the damned shirt off or I will. This doesn't have to be difficult, so don't make it as such."

"Okay..." John said tentatively, knowing that when Dave found out that Kerry had seen him without clothes he was going to be upset. He reached for Dave ungloved, causing Kerry to toss him a puzzling glance.

"You just said he has a contagious rash." Pause. "There is no rash, is there?"

He searched his mind quickly, but couldn't come up with any other excuses as to why she couldn't undress him. What was he supposed to say without giving the scars away? And Luka certainly wasn't helping. "Can't you just trust me, Dr. Weaver?"

"John." She put her hand to her head, rubbing her temple with a sigh of exasperation and slight annoyance. "Please, just help me get him into a gown or Luka and I will to do it."

She glanced down at Dr. Malucci, who appeared to be sleeping though he was unconscious. So it may have been the wrong reason to want to get Dave into a gown and order tests, but the Chief Resident had piqued her interest, and she had to admit that she was a bit curious to find out what the big deal was.

With a sigh, John began to assist Dr. Weaver. He leaned down and began to cut away at Dave's shirt. Kerry was standing to Dave's left, slightly behind him now and when she pulled aside Dave's now torn shirt she gasped audibly, her eyes widening - but not because of the bruising from the attack, but because of the scars across his chest and stomach. Luka, however, was not surprised, but she didn't think to ask why. All she could do right now was see those horrible scars. Had Dave been in some sort of accident previously, causing him to obtain the angry puckering in his flesh? She didn't dare to think that it could've been because of something - or someone - else.

"Do you know where these are from?" she asked, glancing at John, knowing the two had recently become close friends. John looked up at her, his eyes telling her everything even though he shook his head. She looked back down at the Junior Resident's body, knowing those gashes couldn't have come from any accident. She sighed, continuing in her task, realizing now why Dave had been so intent on keeping his clothes on earlier, and why John had tried to convince her of the same. "Roll him over, John," she said softly.

"Why?"

"I need to check his back," she replied.

"They're there too, Dr. Weaver," he said quietly, and then added, looking up at her: "Only worse."

"I need to check for bruising and lacerations," she said evenly. "Luka, would you please keep his neck immobilized?"

Silently, and with great care, John rolled Dave onto his side while Luka immobilized his head. The Chief Resident watched as Dr. Weaver gently examined Dave, running her fingertips lightly over the three long scars that were more prominent than the others, her expression a mixture of horror and compassion. "God," she breathed quietly, shaking her head sadly. "Okay...turn him over on his back again."

Again, John did as he was told, knowing that if Dave ever found out about this he would die. He just hoped that he'd be able to convince Dr. Weaver not to mention anything, and though now Luka was keeping silent, John just hoped he'd *stay* silent. He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw Dr. Weaver reach down and begin to unbuckle Dave's belt.

"Dr. Weaver..." John began, as he placed his hand on top of hers to stop her. She looked up at him, his eyes pleading. Dave would be devastated if he found out Dr. Weaver had seen all those other scars - the ones on his most private parts. And John would not let that happen - he had to protect him. "Dave doesn't even like the fact that *I* know, and I'm one of his closest friends. Please let me finish this. And don't tell him that you've seen what you have."

"There's more, isn't there?" Kerry asked softly.

"Dr. Weaver, please let me finish." And when he saw her hesitate, he said, quietly: "He doesn't want you to treat him differently or take pity on him. Believe it or not, Dr. Weaver, he respects you more than anyone and he cares about what you think of him. He would hate that you've seen as much as you have already. Most of all, he's not ready to...to tell you what..." He trailed off, but then: "Please, Kerry. Let me do this."

Kerry nodded, glancing at the unconscious doctor lying on the exam bed, deep prominent scars across his chest that she could only guess when and how he had received them. She watched John for a moment begin to finish undressing the young man before letting out a shaky breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Backing away from the bed and turning towards the door, only then did the Chief of the ED realize that there was more to Dave than she would ever know. Perhaps she didn't even really want to know, in fear of just what she might find: Who Dr. Dave Malucci really was.

-------------------------------------

I'm sinking slowly

So hurry hold me

Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on

Please can you tell me

So I can finally see

Where you go when you're gone

-------------------------------------

"You shouldn't have said that," Luka suddenly said, once Dr. Weaver was gone and out of earshot. The two senior staff members were undressing Dave still, the gown lying nearby and waiting for them to finish. "About having better taste in a date than Dave, as if he isn't good enough for you. "

"Oh, now he speaks?" John asked incredulously, looking up at the older man with disgust. "But before, when I needed - when *Dave* needed you to cover for him, you kept your mouth shut."

"You were doing fine on your own," Luka sneered, gathering up Dave's discarded clothes and placing them in a hospital bag. "Dave is not my problem anymore. I don't need to 'cover' for him."

"That's all he is to you? A problem?" John asked, glancing down at the Junior Resident, taking in all of the bruises and scars with a hitch in his breath. He looked back up at Luka, who had left the question unanswered. "Dave is your coworker. He could even be your friend if you wanted him to be. And I know he even used to be more than a friend, so don't bother to deny it. And you wouldn't be here if you really didn't care, so don't give me that bullshit. Why didn't you help me?" Luka remained silent still, so then John tried: "Is that it? Because it was *me* asking for help? How selfish are you??"

Luka finally looked up at him, something in his eyes that John couldn't read. He looked back to the Junior Resident's motionless form, glancing over the several scars. "He said they were from an accident," Luka said quietly. "A car accident. But when I'd asked him if any one else had been hurt, he said he'd been the only one in the car. And I know for a fact he's never driven one in his life. But I knew not to push it..."

There was a pause, and then the Attending glanced up, shrugging. And only now, when John saw the look in Luka's eyes, did he realize why Luka hadn't protested Dr. Weaver's questioning. It was because he wanted to know, because during their relationship Dave hadn't said a word, might've even refused to. And only now could John see how hurt and regretful Luka was because of the fact that he knew little about Dave, probably mostly because it was Luka's own fault.

"I think you have everything under control," the Attending said, turning towards the door. "Please, tell me how the exam goes."

"Right," John said as Luka left the room quietly, mostly because he could think of nothing else to say.

Sighing, finishing cleaning Dave's open wounds and making sure the bruising wasn't masking other damage, John was almost surprised to find himself holding back tears as his eyes kept straying to different scars. Sometimes he wished that Dave would tell him what had happened, when and how he'd obtained every scar because John wanted to know everything about him. But most of the time, after witnessing Dave waking up screaming some nights, after witnessing the anger Dave possessed, after witnessing the pure *sadness* Dave was consumed by, he was glad that he didn't know.

God, he thought to himself. Who was really the selfish one: Luka or him?

-------------------------------------

If you want to

I can save you

I can take you away from here

So lonely inside

So busy out there

And all you wanted

Was somebody who cares

-------------------------------------

Darkness.

Wet Darkness.

But how could darkness be wet?

It didn't matter, because the wet darkness was comforting, a vast contrast to the blinding brightness that came with awakening. But David Malucci knew that he couldn't stay in a cataleptic state for his whole life no matter how comforting it was, so he forced himself to open his eyes, squinting against the fluorescent lights above him until his they adjusted and he could fully open them.

Glancing around, he noted that he was in the same exam room that he had been...how long ago? He wasn't sure because he hadn't worn his watch to the bar, and his head hurt too much to allow him to focus on the clock on the wall. Plus, there was no window in the room, so he would just have to wait until someone came in to ask him or her. Suddenly aware that his headache had not dissipated any, he groaned, closing his eyes and moving a hand to his head.

"God..." he muttered, trying to remember what had happened before he'd gone unconscious again. John had brought him to the hospital, Kerry had been giving him an examination, she'd been asking questions...John had insulted him - he could remember that *very* clearly - but then what? Everything was so fuzzy. He...he could remember trying to leave, and...he must've gone out sometime after that. But how? Had he just collapsed, right in the middle of the ER? Closing his eyes, he groaned again, this time in frustration at not being able to remember what had happened.

What had happened while he slept, he wondered silently to himself, trying to find the most comfortable position for his hurting body. They'd probably done that head-CT that Weaver had wanted, a C-spine too, along with other x-rays to make sure none of his bones were broken. They'd probably also run all sorts of tests: CBC, urine, glucose, may have even done a type-and-cross.

"Oh, God!" Dave exclaimed, his eyes snapping open as he sat up, a wave of dizziness immediately overwhelming him. He put his hand to his head, closing his eyes and breathing evenly until it passed, and then picked up the chart hanging over the side of his bed. Flipping furiously through it, his eyes skimmed over the page that showed the doctors orders, trying to find a specific order that would spell out his doom.

That order was a tox screen. If Weaver or anyone had ordered a tox screen, they would've surely seen the foreign drugs in his system: clonazepam and dextroamphetamine, more commonly known as Klonopin and Dexedrine. They were two drugs that were usually used to treat seizures and narcolepsy, though Dave had never experienced either of those conditions. And it would surely raise some eyebrows if anyone saw those drugs in his results.

He searched the chart front to back, double-checked, and then checked again to make sure he hadn't missed it. But it seemed as if no tox screen had been ordered. After putting the chart back, Dave leaned back on his exam bed and closed his eyes, sighing with relief. Thank God no one had decided to order that test, or else he would've been in deep shit.

"Good morning, Dr. Malucci." He opened one eye, seeing Kerry Weaver wearing a smirk as she picked up his chart and flipped through it. Closing his eye again, his brow furrowed as he tried to make his pounding *body*ache go away by sheer will. "It's good to see you've decided to join us. I know you like your sleep, but we were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up."

"We. Where *is* John?" Dave asked, daring to open his eyes as he watched Kerry move to the head of the bed, her expression one of concern after seeing his grimace. She began shuffling through the medicine cabinet, pulling out a vial of morphine for his aches and pains. Before she could answer, Dave said: "Wait. Morning? I was out for that long?"

"Yes, you were," Kerry answered, injecting the morphine into Dave's IV line, then disposing of the needle in the proper bin. She turned back to Dave, leaning her forearms against the raised rail of the exam bed. "John has a half-shift, but he's been checking in on you sporadically. He'll be in later, but I think he's in the middle of a trauma now."

"I can't go home then?" Dave asked, dreading the fact that he'd have to spend the whole day in the hospital.

"Not on my shift," Kerry confirmed. "And lucky for you, I'm pulling a double."

"Great," Dave said with a sigh, fingering the patterned gown that he was wearing. Wait. Gown? When had he changed into a gown? He hadn't. Someone had undressed him, which meant that that someone *had* to have seen his scars. But who was it? John, or...? He glanced up at Dr. Weaver, who was charting the given painkiller. "Where are my clothes?"

"Your clothes?" She glanced up at him from over the rim of her glasses, her eyes seeming to search his. Shit, he'd sounded way too panicky than he'd intended, and now he was almost sure she'd noticed. Thankfully, her intense gaze shifted from him and to the portable nightstand next to the exam bed. "I'm not sure. Maybe John put them in here."

"J - uh...Carter got me into a gown?" Dave asked, quickly correcting himself. He never called John by his first name at work. She nodded, opening the biggest drawer and showing him that indeed his clothes were inside, stuffed into a resealable plastic bag with the hospital's name emblazoned on it. He smiled then, covering up his momentary loss of composure with a joke. "Good. I mean, not that I have anything to even be *remotely* ashamed of - actually I'm quite blessed. But my boss seeing me naked?"

She smiled, her eyes not portraying the same humor, and he briefly wondered if she was lying to him. But the mere thought of her seeing all of his ugly scars made his chest tighten, so he chose to believe that she was telling him the truth. At that moment, John entered the room, a welcomed distraction from the many thoughts that were swirling around in Dave's head. The Chief Resident smiled cordially, clear warmth in his eyes, but Dave simply offered a tight smile, clear resentment in his own eyes.

"I'm glad you're awake," John said, noting Dave's bitter smile. He sighed inwardly, now knowing that Dave was still upset with him for the comments he had made earlier. He attempted to smooth things over, asking casually: "How do you feel?"

"Fine," he replied, sarcasm dripping from the word and also from the smile he was giving John. "Thanks for asking."

"Dr. Weaver, would you mind if I had a moment alone with Dave?" John asked, though he didn't take his eyes off of Dave.

"We have nothing to talk about," Dave spat.

"John, maybe we should let Dave get some rest," Dr. Weaver said gently, sensing the obvious tension between the two men and not wanting anything to upset Dave in the current condition he was in.

"Dave..." John said, exasperation laced in his tone though his expression was pleading.

The Junior Resident sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's okay, Chief."

"Are you sure?" she asked, wondering why Dave was upset with John in the first place. Perhaps something had happened at the bar earlier, she mused as Dave nodded, answering her question. "Okay. I'll check in on you later."

"It's nice to know that at least somebody cares," Dave said, his expression hard as he pinned John to the wall with his stare. Kerry Weaver turned slightly at the comment, wanting to see John's expression but unable to from her position in the room. She left quickly then, knowing when a fight was about to ensue. She just hoped either man didn't say something they'd regret later - she knew how they could both get.

"How can you say that?" John immediately asked once Kerry was out of earshot, the door closing behind her.

"I don't even want to talk to you," Dave stated, wishing that he could turn onto his side so his back was facing John but the pain from his bruised ribs disabled him from doing so. The back of the bed was slightly raised so that he was in a somewhat upright position, so instead he pushed himself up a little - trying to hide his grimace as he did so - and crossed his arms over his chest, turning his head away from John to face a poster on the wall that read: Do I dare disturb the universe?

"Dave, I had to say that," John said, desperation in his voice.

"Why? And you didn't have to say something so shitty about me, you know," Dave said, still facing the poster, the picture displaying a lone man walking on a beach, a sunset next to him but stars farther off in the sky. "That was really rotten, John."

"Dave, I'm sorry," he said firmly, wishing that the younger man would look at him. "But I told you: I had to say that. I didn't want Kerry to know that we *were* together."

"John, you'd just said at the bar that you wanted to come out," Dave reminded him, turning to face him again, his expression one of disbelief and anger. "Why did you suddenly change your mind?"

"Were you there when you got the crap beat out of you??" John asked, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture. He had to make Dave see his point. "Dave, next time you could get killed. *I* could get killed! And if that goes along with coming out, then I'm not going to take that chance."

"John..." Dave said, wishing that he could make the older man understand that this had been some freak thing, that it wouldn't happen again - even if it could. And he damned those fucking bastards on his hockey team that had jumped him for scaring John back into the proverbial closet. "Look, just because it happened doesn't mean that it's always going to happen. There are plenty of people that have come out and nothing happened to them. We're not being hunted, we just have to be careful."

"Dave, I can't," he said, his expression beseeching, as were his words. Dave looked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat and his heart broken in two. John had made his *year* when he'd told Dave he wanted to come out to everyone at work and outside of it. He wanted everyone to know that Dave was his, and he was Dave's. But now he wanted to pretend that they were just friends, he wanted to live a lie. How could he deal with that? Dave wasn't sure if he could - and he wasn't sure how much longer he would. "I'm sorry, Dave, but I just can't."

"Get out."

"What?" John asked, genuinely surprised at Dave's words. He'd expected an argument, or a snide remark even, anything but that command.

But Dave was too tired to deal with this anymore. So he just repeated himself, more firmly this time: "I said: Get out. Just get out, John."

"Dave, please...I..."

"John," Dave said, his voice shaking. "If you don't leave this room, I will. So get the fuck out!!"

"Fine." He sighed, turning and heading for the door, thinking that maybe later he could try to get Dave to understand where he was coming from. "I'll come back later to take you home."

"Don't bother, I won't be here," Dave spat.

Exiting Dave's room, John sighed as he scrubbed his face with one hand, closing the door behind him with the other. His back was slightly aching from when he'd been pushed into the brick wall at the bar by one of the hockey team's members, but he stopped himself from rubbing it, not wanting anyone to see and then worry about him. He could ice it when he got home, and then he'd be fine.

"John?" he heard from next to him, and turned to see Abby rushing towards him, a worried expression on her face. "I just heard what happened when I got on about two seconds ago. Are you okay? How's Dave? Is he going to be okay??"

"I'm fine," he clarified, and then indicated the room behind him. "Dave's a little worse for wear, but he'll be fine too. Dr. Weaver's making him stay the day, so you can go inside if you want."

"What about you?" Abby asked as she began to head inside. "Are you coming?"

"Uh...no," he replied. "Dave's kinda...mad at me."

"What'd you do?" she immediately asked.

"I'll tell you some other time," he replied, then stuck a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. "Right now, I really have to go."

And it was true. He knew he had to leave. During his whole shift he'd been making phone calls to certain people, pulling strings and making arrangements, but now that it was the end of his shift, he'd have time to complete his plans. After saying a quick goodbye to Abby, he moved hurriedly to the clock-out, then signed out at Admin and grabbed his stuff, rushing from the hospital. Because despite the fact that he'd used all of his time that he hadn't been seeing patients to work on his plans, he still had a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it in. John just hoped that this would be enough to make Dave forgive him.

-------------------------------------

All you wanted was somebody who cares

If you need me you know I'll be there

-------------------------------------

When Abby entered the windowless exam room Dave was resting in, she was almost surprised to find it completely dark. This was partly due to the fact that it was morning and the sun was shining outside, but mostly due to the fact that Dave had just spent about ten hours in darkness because he'd been unconscious. She knew she would've wanted some kind of light after that.

"Hey, Dave," she said, and he opened his eyes and tossed her a small smile, obviously still tired after the night he'd had. And the morphine he'd received from Dr. Weaver probably didn't help any, the nurse noted dryly as she glanced over his chart. "How are you feeling?"

"A little worse for wear," he replied, shrugging, "but I'll be okay, I guess. I'm a little worried about my pride, but I think it'll be okay too. "

She grinned, placing his chart back as she said, "John just said the same thing. That you're a little worse for wear, I mean."

"Let's not even talk about him," Dave said, and then let out a sigh of pure despair.

"Okay..." she said tentatively. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Morphine," Dave slurred, blinking slowly and smiling lazily.

"Morphine?" she repeated, slightly puzzled.

"Yes. What a beautiful drug, Abby. I mean...I don't feel any pain. Whoever invented morphine, or discovered it, or whatever, deserves a fucking award. What a great drug!"

Abby smiled at Dave, who was obviously stoned out of his mind because of the painkillers. "Well, if you don't feel anything, then why are you so upset with John? What exactly happened last night?" Abby asked as she sat down on the stool next to his bed, watching him as he relayed the night's events to her. She glanced away in thought as he finished, and then let out a sigh as she turned to him. "Do you want my unbiased opinion, or my biased one?"

"Let's try your unbiased opinion first."

"Okay," she said, nodding as she tried to think of the best way to put this. "I know it must've been really great when John told you he wanted to come out. And I know you're upset that he changed his mind just as suddenly, but you have to have to understand something. John's. Never. Done this. Before," she stated firmly, as if the sentence was chopped up into four.

"Abby..."

"Wait. I'm not done," she interrupted, and then took a deep breath. "Look. What happened last night usually doesn't happen, and it probably won't happen again. I know that, and you know that, but John doesn't know that. It's because he's scared. It was very scary for him to see that happen to you, and I think that's because he cares about you a lot. He doesn't want to see that happen to you again. He just needs a little time, Dave, you just have to be patient."

Dave looked back to the poster again, crossing his arms over his chest. It was hard for him to take in what Abby had just said, mostly because she was absolutely right. In time, things would be better. Just a few weeks ago he could've sworn he didn't have a chance with John, but now they were moving in together, he thought. That had changed over time, for the better. Things always got better with time. But that didn't mean he had to admit she was right. But he turned back to her, his look telling her that he understood, even if he wasn't going to say so.

"So, what's your biased opinion?" he asked.

"After what he said to Weaver about you?" she said, as if it were a question. "John's a big jerk."

"Thanks, Abby."

"No problem, Dave."

-------------------------------------

If you want to

I can save you

I can take you away from here

So lonely inside

So busy out there

And all you wanted

Was somebody who cares

-------------------------------------

Hours later, Dave Malucci sat next to said jerk in his Jeep, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the houses go by outside the car window. He hadn't spoken to John unless necessary since he'd been discharged from the hospital, and hadn't even let the Chief Resident help him into the Jeep, a decision Dave had immediately regretted: that had been one painful experience, even with the painkillers he'd had during the course of the day.

Suddenly aware of a dull ache in his left side, Dave began to rub at it, which he soon found to be a terrible mistake when his muscle spasmed painfully. A yelp escaped his lips as he involuntarily sat up straight in surprise.

"Are you okay?" was instantly heard from the driver's side of the vehicle.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, leaning back in his seat. The Jerk let out a sigh, which Dave ignored as they approached the exit on the highway that led to Dave's apartment building. At least when he got home he'd be able to go to bed, take more pain medication and forget about this shitty day for a while. Unless, of course, he got sucked into a shitty nightmare. Acutely aware that John wasn't slowing down or turning off, Dave sat up once more in his seat and turned slightly as he watched the exit go by. Leaning back again, he said: "Where are we going?"

"Home."

"Well, you just passed the exit."

"I know."

"You know a shortcut or something that I don't?" he asked, only half-sarcastic as he did so.

"Or something," John said, smirking. Dave narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to say something more but promptly closing it, deciding that it wasn't worth it. So he watched the houses and stores go by as they traveled farther and farther away from his apartment building. They were soon on the west side of Chicago, the nice side of Chicago, and Dave was beginning to get antsy as he realized they weren't going home and tried to figure out where exactly they *were* going. Sensing this, John placed his hand on Dave's knee, saying: "Don't worry. We're almost there."

"Easy for you to say," Dave mumbled in reply, shifting himself in his seat so John's hand fell away from his leg. "You're not the one in pain."

John turned toward him with his brow furrowed. "You're in pain?"

"What do you think, John?" Dave snapped. "Yes, I'm in pain! I just got the living shit beat out of me last night, you think I'm in the best shape of my life?? Now just take me home, and stop dicking around! I'm not in the mood for any more of your shit."

"We're almost there," John said softly.

"The hell we are," Dave mumbled. They turned onto a road, leading them to a neighborhood of homes and apartment buildings, one where everything was clean and quiet; crime certainly didn't occur here, as opposed to his own neighborhood. The Jeep slowed to a stop at the curbside of this neighborhood, and Dave glanced around before turning to John. "Where are we?"

"Home," he said with a smile, and then indicated the apartment building next to them with a nod of his head.

"You didn't," Dave said with narrowed eyes, turning to inspect the building next to them. He immediately recognized the graffiti-free red brick building as the one John had showed him in the catalogue the night before - the one that he'd specifically stated he couldn't afford. Turning back to his companion, he watched as the older man fished a set of keys out of his pocket, holding them up for Dave to see. The Junior Resident then gasped theatrically. "You did!"

"Well?" John said, pushing open his car door and stepping out of his Jeep. He indicated the building once more, giving the keys in his hand a little shake. With another sigh, Dave pushed open the door to the Jeep, stepping out onto the curb and shaking off John's attempts to help him. Silently, though John could see the clear excitement in Dave's eyes, they made their way inside of the building, an elevator in the main lobby. "Elevator. So you don't have to lug your bike up and down stairs anymore."

"I hope you know," Dave said, glancing at John in his peripheral vision, "that it is going to take me twice as long to bike to County now."

"Oh, no it's not," John said, glad to see Dave demeanor changing from gloomy to happy, slowly but surely.

"And why's that?" he asked, finally turning to look John in the eye as they boarded the elevator.

"Because I," John started, as he pressed the button for the second floor, which was also the top floor. He turned back to Dave, stepping deliberately close to him, feeling the heat emanating off of the younger man's body as he draped his arms over his shoulders. "Am going to teach you how to drive."

"Oh really?" Dave asked, pulling back and out of John's reach. The elevator came to a stop, and the Junior Resident quickly stepped off into a brightly lit hallway, John following suit, wearing a frown as he realized maybe getting Dave out of that gloomy mood was going to be harder than he thought. "So which apartment is it?" he asked after seeing four doors.

"This one," John said, pointing to the last door on the left. Leading Dave there, he said: "You know, I still find it hard to believe that you can't drive, since you know so much about cars and how to fix them."

"My old man never let me learn how to drive," Dave stated casually, following John down the peach-colored hallways, which were floored with dark green carpet. "He knew that as soon as I got a car I'd get outta there, and he also knew he couldn't live without me." The Junior Resident shrugged, somewhat sadly. "I guess I learned a lot about cars to make up for it. But I never really needed to know how to drive, so I just...never learned."

"Where is your dad now?"

"He's dead."

"I'm sorry," John said softly.

"Don't be. It was one of the happiest days of my life," Dave said, staring John in the eye, who felt a sudden chill creep up his back. God, Dave hated his father with such intensity John could feel it.

John paused at the closed door of their new apartment, turning to face Dave, watching him carefully. He didn't know a lot about Dave's past because he knew it was a touchy subject, a time that Dave didn't want to remember. And John suspected that even though he they didn't talk about it, it was always just at the tip of Dave's tongue, as if the younger man were ready to blurt out everything that ever happened to him - *needed* to blurt out everything that ever happened to him - but somehow couldn't.

"So, are we going to just stand here all day," Dave began, quickly changing the subject before John asked any more questions that he had no desire to answer, "or are we going to go inside?"

"Right," John quickly said, sticking the key in the lock and turning it, pushing the door open and holding it in a fashion that showed Dave was to go first. The younger man stepped inside almost warily, glancing around the place with curious eyes that took in every single detail of the place. His back was facing John, so the older man couldn't see if Dave was happy or not. "So...what do you think?"

"I think you think you can make up for being an asshole to me by buying me things that I can't afford for myself," Dave said softly. He turned and looked at John, his expression showing that he was clearly hurt. "You must really think I'm some kind of fuckboy, John."

That was it! Here, John had gone out of his way to buy this apartment and move everything into it, and now all Dave could do was throw it back in his face?? John sighed through clenched teeth, spitting out: "Dave, for you to be a fuck boy, you would have to let me fuck you, which hasn't happened yet."

"Fuck you!" Dave suddenly yelled, and John immediately regretted his comment. "You...you don't get to use that in a fight...you...I...I..."

"Dave," John said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Look, I didn't do this to make you forget that I was an asshole. I know that I was an asshole. I just...I..."

"Then why did you do it?" Dave asked softly, his brown eyes watery.

"I did it because you deserve it, Dave," John replied. He glanced off, trying to find the right words and hoping that he could. "Although you don't believe it right now, I care about you...and I want to make you happy. You deserve to be happy."

"You know what would make me happy?"

"No," John said, his expression pleading. "But I swear if you tell me, I'll do it Dave. I'd do anything to make you happy."

"Really?" Dave asked, apparent doubt in his voice.

"Yes," John said urgently. John wanted nothing more in the world than to give Dave what he wanted, what he *needed*. "What would make you happy?"

"For you to respect me as a person, as an equal," Dave whispered, turning away from John.

"God! Dave, I do!" John said, taking a step towards Dave, and he was almost relieved that Dave didn't take a step back, something the younger man often did when they argued, and John wondered if perhaps it was instinctive or not. "I do, more than anyone."

"Then act like it sometimes," Dave snapped, regaining his composure. "Stop acting like I'm less than you when we're in front of people."

"Dave...I...I don't act like you're less than me in front of other people..."

"Oh, yes you do," Dave said, now taking a step back. "You order me around, and you talk to me like I'm...like I'm just a junior resident that you can push around. I mean I expect it at work, I guess...but...you don't have to treat me like I'm an idiot when we're at work. And you don't have to treat me like I'm beneath you when we're *not* at work. You don't even act like I'm your friend..."

"Dave, I'm sorry," John whispered. Was this really how Dave had felt all along? "Listen, I can stay at my Gamma's house. You stay here, I'll call Abby to stay with you."

"I don't need a fucking babysitter," Dave stated harshly. "I can take care of myself."

"Okay, fine," John said quietly. "Call me later, okay?"

"Okay," Dave said softly, watching as John walked to the door. Dammit. "Wait!"

"What?"

"Don't leave...please, John," Dave said, stepping towards him. "I don't want to stay here without you...it would...seem wrong."

"Okay," John said softly. "Do you want to talk about it?" he suddenly asked. "About...the attack, about your father, about anything?? About me...or you?"

"No," Dave said with finality in his voice.

"Dave, we should talk about it," John said.

"Not now," Dave said, suddenly feeling very tired as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

"The carpets," Dave decided with a nod.

"Carpets?"

Dave turned to John with a small smile. "The carpet's clean!"

"What?" John instinctively glanced at the bright beige carpet, which was probably the color that the carpet in Dave's old apartment was *supposed* to be, and then looked back up at the Junior Resident, who was still admiring the flooring. "Uh...yeah, it is."

"You don't understand," Dave said with raised eyebrows as he faced John once more. "I cleaned and cleaned my old apartment's floor over and over again, and it was never this nice." He let out a low whistle. "Jeeze, this must've cost you a fortune: the apartment, getting all of our stuff in here in a day...I can't repay you..." he said softly, looking up at John with gentle eyes.

"You don't have to," John said as he approached the younger man, placing his hands on Dave's hips. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

Dave gasped theatrically for the second time in one hour. "You must've seen the Christmas presents I had hidden in my closet for you! John!"

"Dave, relax," he said, chuckling at Dave's sudden panic. "My Gamma and Corinne helped me get all our stuff into boxes and ship it over here...I didn't seen any Christmas presents."

"Uh...what Christmas presents?" Dave looked away, trying to back-peddle his previous statement. He cleared his throat and rubbed the nape of his neck, and then looked back up at John from under his brow, his small smile reaching his beautiful brown eyes. "I'm supposed to be mad at you..."

"I know," John said, moving a hand to cup the side of Dave's face. "And I'm sorry."

Still smiling, Dave leaned forward and kissed John softly on the lips, closing his eyes as he did so. John often wondered why Dave closed his eyes while they kissed, contemplating the fact that maybe Dave trusted him enough to do so. Pulling away, Dave hugged John tightly, and the older man could hear the emotion in the younger man's voice as he said: "Thank you, John. This is really wonderful. No one's ever done something like this for me before."

"It's about time someone did," John said, and Dave glanced at him in surprise. John really did think he deserved the world, Dave realized then. But he wasn't sure why, because Dave really did think he was a terrible person that didn't deserve anything, much less someone like John. "I love you," he suddenly said, and then watched as Dave's expression turned from surprise to shock to delight.

Dave's eyes widened in surprise, first of all, because no one had ever told Dave they loved him except for his mother and his high school sweetheart, Steven. Coming from John, it was just as surprising as if God Himself had opened the heavens and revealed Himself to the earth. Next came shock because...*John*?? Loved *him*?? Frankly, Dave hardly thought of himself as much, but yet, what little Dave was or had to offer, John loved. Now: delight. John loved him. John, this smart, funny, good-looking, rich, special, *special* man, loved him. It was everything he'd ever wanted and everything he'd ever hoped for.

...So why couldn't he say it back? He knew he loved John, he'd loved John for several weeks now, had admitted it to himself several times. But yet, something was holding him back from saying those three words that could change their lives forever.

Wanting to say those words, but unable to, wanting to say something, but unable to, wanting to *do* something, but unable to, Dave stood there, watching as John's face fell. Great going, Malucci, he thought to himself. You've fucked up yet again! But he was determined to get this right, determined not to let down John again, so he figured if he couldn't *tell* John that he loved him, then he'd show him.

Slipping his hands onto either side of John's face, the Junior Resident pulled the older man to his lips, kissing him in a way that he'd never kissed anyone before, kissing him with deep, drugging kisses more addictive than any drug John had ever taken, kissing him with so much passion and zeal it took both men's breath away. Finally, moments later, he pulled away but did not move away, resting his forehead against John's shoulder, unable to look up into John's face in fear of what his expression would tell him.

John smiled as he rested his chin atop of Dave's head, feeling absolutely wonderful though Dave's response to his confession hadn't been what he'd exactly hoped for. What he *had* been hoping for was the traditional reply, and though he didn't get one, the kiss that Dave had delivered had obviously stated that even if he didn't - or for some reason couldn't - say those three words back, he certainly *felt* it.

"We got a new couch," Dave reported, simply because he could think of nothing else to say at this time.

"Yeah," John replied, his arms wrapped around Dave as he glanced at the black leather couch with overstuffed pillows that could accommodate three people. "You were so engulfed by the carpet I didn't think you'd noticed."

"I did."

"Got a new bed too," John said casually, one fingertip tracing patterns on Dave's back.

"Oh, did we?" Dave asked just as casually, picking up his head to glance over John's shoulder and into the hallway that presumably led to the bedroom.

"Mm hmm..." John replied with a suggestive smile that was reflected on the Junior Resident's face. He nodded towards the bedroom. "What do you say we check it out? Maybe 'christen' the apartment??"

Dave grinned broadly, pressing himself and the growing bulge in his jeans against John. "I like that idea."

"Are you sure you are up to it?" John asked softly, gently tracing Dave's black eye with his fingertips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dave asked, smiling as he pulled a face. "Have I ever let you down before?"

"No, Dave that's not what I meant," John laughed. "It's just that you're hurt and...and...I don't want to make anything worse."

"We'll go slow," Dave said softly, as he ran his fingers over the bulge in John's pants, eliciting a moan from the older man. "Take our time...go steady...go slow..."

"Mm hmm..." John groaned.

"Let's go into the bedroom," Dave whispered.

And so, that night, away from the outside world, with each other in their own, alone in the darkness of their bedroom, together underneath the covers of their bed, Dave and John made love for the first time. There were no other words to describe it, there was no other way to describe the long, slow strokes Dave took John with, each one triggering his prostate. There was no other way to describe the way they held onto each other in the darkness, their hands roaming over each other's bodies as if they were experiencing each other for the first time, though both were familiar with each other's bodies just as they were familiar with their own. There was no other way to describe the way they looked into each other's eyes with an intensity neither had ever witnessed before, a silent exchange that spoke volumes about the way each other felt, about the way they wanted and hoped to feel forever. And there were no words to describe that feeling, a feeling that some people searched their whole lives for just to feel five minutes of.

Except sheer joy.

-------------------------------------

Please can you tell me

So I can finally see

Where you go when you're gone

-------------------------------------

--------------------------- Chapter Twelve: Downfall ---------------------------

Fear in me so deep it gets the best of me

In the fear I fall, here it comes face to face with me

Here I stand, hold back so no one can see

I feel these wounds

---------------------------

The leather snapped against his skin with a deafening crack, and as the old man pulled back with an obscenity, the young boy cried out, his back arching and his head tipping back as a sob escaped his lips. He closed his eyes tightly as he waited for the sound of the belt moving through the air, which was the only warning he would get before another snap, another obscenity, another cry and more blinding pain.

He could feel cold wetness down his back, the air biting at his open wounds, and he knew he was bleeding, maybe severely enough to leave scars - more scars. The old man had never hit the young boy this hard before with his belt, and the new level of pain was almost unbearable. He was pleading now for the old man to stop, unsure of how much more he could take before he passed out from the pain - and God only knew what would happen to him should he fall into unconsciousness. The blissful silence and the feeling of *not* feeling for only a few moments wasn't worth the consequences.

And there it was. A sound as if the silent night air was sighing, and the young boy knew it was coming, but he also knew that this was the last one he could take. And he also knew that worse things would come once he awoke in a few moments, worse things would happen in his unnatural slumber. The old man liked it when the young boy was motionless and unresponsive; he didn't like it when he fought back. By the time he would wake up from his forced slumber, it would begin, and he would just lie there and let him finish...sometimes he would cry, but he never spoke, never begged, that would only make it worse...so he just silently cried. Sometimes the young boy was submissive purposefully, in hopes that the old man would tire of him and toss him aside perversely like a lackluster toy. But each time the young boy discovered that it only made it easier for the old man to hurt him, only made it more *fun*.

And then came the snap of the leather against his skin, the pain ripping through his body and the blood trickling down his back. The young boy hoped that he'd be able to clean the wounds later by himself, otherwise he'd have to ask Miranda to do it, and he hated obligating his friend in such a way. He knew it affected her greatly to see what the old man could do to him, even though she never voiced her silent sympathies. Sometimes she would cry, sometimes he would cry with her. But both ignored their tears as best as they could. And he always left feeling guilty for hurting her, and he knew she was always left feeling guilty for letting him go.

And now the young boy closed his eyes and here came the darkness, the comforting darkness that frightened the young boy at the same time. Who knew what he would find when he awoken? He prayed that he would be alone when he regained consciousness, but somehow he knew that God wasn't listening to him at that moment, and he also knew that the terror wasn't over just yet. The old man had been very angry with the young boy, more so than he had been in a long time.

Opening his eyes once more, the young boy gasped audibly and scrambled back in fear of what could be happening to him. But his surroundings were different, brighter and cleaner, and suddenly the young boy realized he was no longer a young boy; he was twenty-eight years old, would be twenty-nine very soon. And though he felt like an old man - perhaps even *that* old man - he wasn't that old just yet. He had many years left ahead of him, or at least he hoped so.

Sighing, wondering when - and if - these fucking nightmares were ever going to stop, Dave Malucci rubbed the sleep from his eyes, glancing around when he was finished to see that he had backed himself up against the headboard, kicked aside the covers, and woken up his lover, who was watching him with concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" John asked, reaching out to gently rub the front of Dave's calf, which was possible because the younger man's knees were drawn up against his chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, nodding vigorously as he felt his heart doing at least ninety miles-per-hour. He abruptly pulled away from John's touch and got out of bed, looking at the startled Chief Resident's expression with one of his own. "I'm going to take a shower," he managed to hastily say before turning and starting towards the bedroom door. He paused suddenly. "New apartment," he remembered, and then turned towards the door leading to their own adjoining bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled open the mirror to see that mostly everything was exactly how it had been organized in his old apartment. The top shelf held his razors and shaving cream, the middle shelf had extra bars of soap and deodorant...and there, on the bottom shelf with a few other items, were the two orange bottles he was looking for. One contained his prescription of Zyrtec for his allergies. The other was supposed to contain the painkillers that were prescribed to him after his beating, but instead it contained several different kinds of pills that one would never find inside a single container unless they looked in this one. Dave had hidden Klonipin, Dexedrine, Demerol, Percocets and his most recent addition, though he hadn't taken any yet, Butalbital - a barbiturate - in it since John had begun to stay at his old apartment regularly.

And now, as he twisted off the cap and shook out a few Klonipins and Dexedrines, he enveloped his fingers around them and bit his lip. Klonipins and Dexedrines just weren't doing it for him anymore, they weren't giving him the same buzz as they had when he'd first started taking them. Deciding on a new, stronger drug of choice, Dave put the pills back in the bottle and shook out a couple Demerol, and quickly put them in his mouth and swallowed.

It was then that he realized this was the eighth morning in a row he had done that. It was then that he also realized he was taking more drugs more often, and it was then that he also realized he was taking them when he didn't need to anymore. Putting the pill bottle back on the shelf, closing the mirror and catching his eye in it, seeing how terrible he looked, he wondered how he had succumbed to this even though he didn't want to think about it right now.

He heard his alarm in the bedroom go off before John quickly shut it off, and sighed as he recalled the fact that they had work early today. It was his first day back since the attack a few days ago, and, not wanting to be late in fear of what the Chief might do, he turned on the shower and stepped inside once it was warm enough. Standing under the hot spray, his arms crossed against the wall and his forehead leaning against them, he found himself telling himself that he would make it through the day. After all, he made it through yesterday, he could make it through today too. Why he was telling himself this, he wasn't sure of, and he didn't allow himself to ponder the thought, only kept telling himself that he would make it.

There were suddenly arms encircling his waist, visibly startling him. John quietly apologized before placing a gentle kiss on his neck and resting his chin on Dave's shoulder. Closing his eyes and leaning back against the older man, Dave turned his head towards John's face and inhaled his musk before opening his eyes once more to see John watching him. He gave the Chief Resident a small smile before their lips met in a loving kiss. Love. Love. It was a word Dave had grown accustomed to lately, and it filled him with a bad case of the warm fuzzies that he couldn't say he minded. But even when he was at his happiest, there was this feeling of dread in the back of his head, always reminding him that something would go wrong and he would be left alone again...alone and hurt and irrevocably damaged.

In a silent exchange, the two men had decided to help each other groom that morning, and once finished washing each other's hair, Dave had taken the bath sponge and soap and had begun to wash John's body. Starting from his legs and working his way upwards, the younger man soon reached John's torso, and when he began to wash John's neck the older man wrapped his hand around Dave's, causing the younger man to look up at him.

"You're so gentle," John said softly, touching Dave's still-healing black eye with his fingertips, then moving his fingers to gently caress Dave's stitches.

"I don't want to hurt you," was the unexpected reply he received.

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"I did a few nights ago," Dave reminded him quietly. "I could do it again."

"You didn't do it on purpose."

"I still did it."

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

John reached up and slipped his hands on either side of Dave's face, bringing his face towards him and kissing the younger man tenderly. They soon parted, but Dave leaned towards him and rested his head in John's chest as the older man wrapped his arms around the younger man. They stood under the water spray in silence for a long time, the bath sponge long since forgotten on the shower floor by both men.

Dave was the first to break that silence. "John?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Still being here," Dave said softly.

John was so taken aback by the comment that he didn't know how to respond. Did Dave really think that he would still leave him? John didn't know how to relieve Dave of this fear, but he knew that whatever the cure was it wouldn't be an easy one. Dave had been hurt many times in his life, used many times, let down many times. But John promised himself he wouldn't do that to Dave, he wouldn't let himself. But yet he knew that promise would have to be fulfilled and not spoken, so John only continued to hold him, wishing that he could hold Dave forever in his arms and forever in his heart.

-------------------------------------

Step down...

-------------------------------------

As she moved from room to room through the ER eating a cereal bar for breakfast, Abby Lockhart considered herself to be several things. She was a woman, she was hungry, she was a Democrat, a Dave Matthews Band fan, tried, PMSing, a nurse in OB and the ER, and she was also very mad. She was mad because she *wasn't* a messenger, and therefore shouldn't be used as such by Dr. Weaver, who had given her the task of telling the staff working today that there was a staff meeting in one half-hour in the Lounge. Well, fifteen minutes now, she thought to herself as she spotted Dave and John just signing in.

"Hey, guys," she said, approaching them. She glanced over the Junior Resident, her eyes lingering over his black eye. Those bastards who'd beaten him up had sure done a number on him. "How are you feeling Dave?"

"Pretty good today," he said with a bright smile, which was due in large part to the Demerol he'd taken this morning.

"Glad to hear that," Abby replied. "Oh. Staff meeting in fifteen minutes in the Lounge."

"Okay," Dave replied absently as he signed his barely legible signature on the sign-in list. She'd probably end up harping on him for one thing or another, whether it was his charts or his bedside manner. Maybe she'd at least wait until everyone was gone rather than a public flogging, he hoped. Moving aside so that John could sign in, Dave picked up his bookbag and said: "I'm going to get in there and grab my stuff before Weaver shows up. See you in a few."

"What do you think the meeting's going to be about? Probably just the regular complaints and compliments, right?"

"Rowrr..." Dave suddenly growled quietly into John's ear, sneaking in a quick pinch at his ass before turning and moving towards the Lounge, sending John into a complete disorientation. He turned towards Dave in surprise, but the younger man was walking away from him. Smiling slightly as he turned back to Abby but didn't look at her, John wondered if this meant they'd find an empty supply closet during their break and do a quick kiss-and-touch - with the door locked, of course. He didn't need a repeating performance of someone walking in on them, someone who wouldn't take it quite as well as Abby had.

So, with that image in his mind - Dave's lips under his own, his hands up John's shirt or maybe down John's pants, all while John was having his own fun with Dave's body - almost thirty seconds passed before he snapped out of his daydream and looked up at Abby, whose eyebrows were raised expectantly. Oh, yeah. Hadn't she said something to him? Asked him a question??

"Uh..." he tried, "Missing drugs?"

"You're right," Abby said, grinning as she held up her cereal bar. "I'm sure that's exactly what's wrong with my cereal bar today. Betty Crocker sure is losing her touch. Next thing you know, she'll be forgetting to put the hard liquor in my coffee."

"What??" John asked, shaking his head to clear his mind from any thoughts of Dave, himself and a closet. "You asked me about the meeting."

"And then I asked why my cereal bar tasted funny, but you obviously weren't paying attention," she said, shaking her head with a grin, leaning back to get a "rear view" of his retreating boyfriend. She suddenly turned serious. "How's Dave doing?"

"He's okay...no, he's not okay," John suddenly changed his mind, and then added with finality: "Something's bothering him."

"Well, he *was* just beaten up, John."

"No, that's not it. Something is...off with him. It has been for a while. One minute he's Dave and the next minute he's...I don't know how to explain it...have you noticed anything?"

"Yeah...but he won't talk to me about it. Every time I ask he brushes me off." She suddenly cocked an eyebrow, glancing at John suspiciously. "You mean...he hasn't talked to you about it?"

"No. He won't. No matter what I do or say, he just won't open up to me," John said. He reached up and rubbed his forehead wearily. "I'm really worried about him."

"Me too," Abby said softly. There was a pause, both lost in their own thoughts, before Abby spoke up once more. "You said something about missing drugs in my cereal bar?"

"No, I was talking about the staff meeting," he clarified. "It's probably going to be about the missing drugs from the drug lockup."

She immediately turned solemn, her brow furrowing in deep thought. "Who do you think is stealing them?" she asked, glancing around the ER as if that alone would allow her to figure out who it was, if indeed anyone was stealing the drugs.

"We don't know if *anyone's* stealing them," he said as he adjusted his shoulder bag. "Maybe it's just human error. Someone could be forgetting to sign them out."

"John," she said exasperatedly. "There's a lot of drugs missing, not just a few pills here and there. Serious drugs, John: Benzos, opiates, amphetamines, barbiturates...someone's stealing them, I know it."

"Well, if that's the case," he said, "then who's the one doing it?"

-------------------------------------

Am I breaking down?

-------------------------------------

Dave Malucci stood in front of his locker inside of the Lounge, hanging up his jacket on the hook provided. He bent over to his knapsack on the floor and pulled out a few charts he'd finished up last night, and then stuffed that inside as well, leaving his charts on the floor for now. Finished with those simple tasks, he took out a scrub top he kept in there and pulled it on over his long-sleeved tee shirt, clipping on his ID badge and throwing his stethoscope around his neck once done. He couldn't help but notice the fuzzy way the world looked, almost as if everything was moving in slow motion...

Glancing into the mirror on his locker door, he ignored the black eye and row of sutures that would be the focus of many stares today, and instead ran his fingers through his hair and did a few quick adjustments to it before he felt that it was perfect. He remembered a few nights ago when he'd commented to John that he'd been thinking about cutting it lately. When asked for his opinion, the Chief Resident had simply replied with a wicked grin and a devilish wink: "Nah...it gives me something to hold on to."

Dave heard the door to the Lounge open, and when he ducked a little so he could see whom it was in the mirror without having to turn around, he was displeased to say the least that it was Luka Kovac. Steeling himself, Dave closed his locker door quietly, hoping to make a quick and stealthy escape.

"Good morning, Dave," he heard, and then let out a silent sigh as he realized his wish would not be coming true any time soon. Turning, he smiled a nodded at the older man, who crossed the room to him. The Attending reached up and gently touched Dave's black eye, pressing lightly on the bruised skin and checking how well it was healing. But his hand lingered there as he finished, gently brushing his fingers over the Junior Resident's cheek before it fell back to his side. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," Dave replied as the older man moved to the coffee machine, touching his tingling cheek. "What about you?" he then asked, mostly because he could think of nothing else to say.

"Pretty good," Luka replied, smiling at the younger man as he searched through the cabinet for his mug. "I came in here early to get some coffee before the meeting. Would you like some?"

"Uh..." Dave stammered, trying hastily to think of an excuse to leave when the Lounge door opened once more, and he thanked God that John had finally decided to get his ass in here and get ready for work. Turning quickly, he was devastated to see Dr. Weaver enter. Jesus, his morning was turning into a nightmare! Next thing you knew, Dr. Corday would be entering the room, he thought to himself bitterly. Well, at least he wasn't alone with Luka now. But the Chief had that look on her face that told him his previous hunch of her harping on him was true, so he quickly turned back to Luka, saying: "Coffee sounds great."

"No problem," Luka said, pouring him a mug and handing it to him, and if Dave hadn't been so distracted by Dr. Weaver - on top of the Demerol he'd taken this morning - he would've noticed the older man's hand touch Dave's when he passed the Junior Resident the mug, and he would've noticed the older man's hand linger a bit longer than it should've. "Morning, Kerry."

"Good Morning, Luka," she replied, smiling thinly in that way that she did. "Morning, Dave. How are you feeling today?"

"Morning, Chief. I'm feeling great."

"Good. Have you heard about the staff meeting yet?" she asked Dave, and then her eyes shifted to the floor as she spotted his charts in front of his locker. Her expression hardened as she fixed her gaze back on him, her eyes pinning him to the wall. "Dr. Malucci," she started. Oh, Great. When it wasn't "Dave" anymore, but "Dr. Malucci," he knew he was in for it. "Are those your charts on the floor?"

"Yes," he said, moving to them, as John entered the Lounge, his expression one of puzzlement as he heard Dave speak. "But I just put them there when I was getting my stuff together."

"Just make sure you don't leave them there," she said, pulling up a chair at the Lounge table. Great, so now she was going to chew him out in front of John, who was looking pretty sympathetic as he moved to his locker to get ready for the day.

"I wasn't going to," Dave quickly stated, managing to gather them in his arms while still holding his coffee.

"It's a bad habit, to leave your things here and there," she went on to say, though he knew she was implying that it was *his* bad habit.

"It's not a habit."

"Someone could trip right over them and fall down and hurt themselves."

"Right, right." God, how embarrassing this was, Dave thought as he felt a chart slipping from his grasp.

"The hospital could get sued for your haphazard behavior."

"Exactly," Dave agreed. Say something, John, he pleaded silently to the older man, who was *only* looking sympathetic instead of getting him out of this.

"Don't let it happen again." The chart clattered to the floor, visibly startling the younger man, who then let out a silent but noticeable sigh.

"Kerry, can I have a word with you?" Dave suddenly heard from behind him, and he glanced at Luka thankfully. Turning back to John as the two senior staff members began to discuss Dr. Weaver's patient, he tossed him a glare that would put the Chief's to shame as he picked up his chart.

"What?" John whispered quietly to the younger man.

"You could've said something," he replied harshly, though just as quietly. He suddenly sat down at the Lounge table, reorganizing his charts angrily, hoping the day would get better soon.

John sighed silently as he heard Luka whisper to Kerry, so low John could barely pick up on it: "It's his first day back, give him a little bit of a break." Sighing again, John joined Dave at the lounge table, his expression one of puzzlement and slight incredulity. Dave's moods sure were erratic lately, he thought to himself as he watched the Junior Resident carefully, who was now biting his nails, a nervous habit that John had noticed the younger man had recently picked up. Dave glanced up at John, who tossed him an apologetic look as Luka joined them at the table, sitting next to John, but the younger man just looked away, now fidgeting with his ring.

As doctors and nurses filed into the Lounge for the staff meeting that Dr. Weaver had called today, John mused about what could possibly be putting Dave on edge lately, especially the last few days. Perhaps the attack had gotten to him, something John knew they hadn't talked about yet. But it couldn't be that, he thought, because Dave's moods had been unpredictable long before then. Was he stressed with work? But he didn't seem to be under any more stress than he had been since they first started seeing each other. And it couldn't just be that Dave was just like this, because when they *had* first started seeing each other, he was...different. Calmer. More composed. Self-assured. Less likely to explode over things.

Was it the nightmares? Maybe they were getting to be too much for him to handle. It was the only thing that he could really think of that could be bothering Dave so much, and with the intensity in which Dave experienced them - waking up screaming, fighting, crying - it seemed to be the best guess. Next time he had the chance, maybe during dinner or even while they were lounging around at home, John promised himself that he would bring up the possibility of a therapist. If Dave wouldn't talk to John about it, then he could at least talk to someone. Although John was almost positive that Dave would blow up at the suggestion.

Breaking John from his thoughts, Kerry immediately began speaking once everyone was settled. "As most of you know by now, save a few new faces," she said, glancing at Michael Gallant and a few new nurses, "I usually hold a meeting every month to discuss bedside manner, patient care, new equipment, staff changes, policy changes and even that new color system. But this meeting is a bit more...imperative than the color system."

John watched as glances were exchanged throughout the room, more specifically, watching as Dave exchanged glances with Abby, who was sitting next to him. John knew what this meeting was about: the drugs that had been missing from the drug lockups. But most people had been left in the dark thus far, including Dave, who then turned to face John. Their eyes met for a moment, and in that moment, John gasped audibly. Dear Jesus, John thought as Dave mouthed: "You okay?" to him, but John only nodded vigorously. Erratic behavior, mood swings, hypersensitivity...it would explain everything.

No! He had to be wrong, he had to be! Dave was not a drug addict, there was no way! John would be the first to notice, considering he's a drug addict himself, albeit a recovering one. And surely he would've found the pills by now...for God's sake, they lived together! Okay, so they'd only been living together for a few days, but they'd been practically living together before then. And the only pills he had were allergy pills and the painkiller Vicodin that was prescribed by Weaver...there were no Benzos and certainly no Barbs.

...But what if he was *right*?? Dave could be spiraling out of control. He could be a full-blown addict, and John had just been too blind to see it thus far. What if he had just not *wanted* to see it? God, if that was true then it meant that this was his entire fault. Just like with Dennis...he'd lived with Dennis too...and look what had happened to them. He had to stop this before it was too late, before another death was on his shoulders.

Okay...so if Dave was addicted to drugs, what was he supposed to do about it? John knew what he himself had been like when he'd been confronted by his peers. Hell, he'd quit County, damning the name of everyone inside of it, swearing he would never go back. What if he confronted Dave, and the Junior Resident left him? What if - unlike John when Peter had gone after him on that night so long ago - Dave didn't see what was happening and wouldn't come back? John was almost sure his world would turn upside down without Dave. Stop, John! Stop! Your feelings are not important right now! This is Dave's *life*!

God...what the fuck was he supposed to do?? He had to think, he needed to think about this first. Dave might not even be addicted to drugs. He could be reading into this all wrong. Just sit back and wait, he thought to himself. Sit back and wait...and *watch*...

And so he did just that. But during the whole meeting, while Kerry was laying her scrutinizing gaze over each and every one of her staff members present, almost dissecting them with her eyes, Dave remained calm. Surprising to no one but John, he looked mildly concerned, just as concerned as the rest of the staff was looking right now. The younger man even glanced at John, turning away with a worried expression, as if to wonder if *he* was the one stealing the drugs.

"God," John breathed quietly as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He *was* reading into this all wrong. Dave wasn't addicted to drugs, John was just being paranoid, just trying too hard to find an explanation for the younger man's recent neurotic behavior. Ridiculous, John, he thought to himself incredulously. You're ridiculous. Jeeze, just look at what happens when you decide to "save" someone. You think too much and you come to the wrong conclusions, and now here you are speculating the fact that Dave could be a drug addict. A drug addict, for God's sake!

How stupid was that??

-------------------------------------

Can I break away?

Push me away, make me fall

Just to see another side of me

Push me away, you can see

What I see: the other side of me

-------------------------------------

His mind was reeling. Kerry had just announced to the whole entire staff that someone was...*stealing* drugs from the drug lockup. The whole fucking staff! Now everyone would be looking out, keeping a careful eye on the drug lockup to watch out for that someone. That someone of course was he, David Malucci, but right now only he knew that and no one else did...but that would soon change, deep down inside Dave knew his time was running out before his secret was exposed to all and he lost everything...his career, his friends, his lover. That was simply because they wouldn't understand, they just wouldn't fucking understand. And he wasn't *stealing* them, he *needed* them! He couldn't get through the day without those drugs! But they wouldn't understand that, they'd try to change him, just like they'd tried to all along, because they didn't like him, they never did. And they certainly didn't try to hide it. The only reason Luka liked him was because he liked the way he fucked him, he didn't like him personally, it was all just an act. Hell, Abby probably laughed at him behind his back. And John...John, he...he was just walking on the wild side. He would leave him, the first chance he got he would leave him, and Dave would be alone again...alone forever.

They wouldn't understand.

But they weren't the ones who'd had the shit beaten out of them by their own father almost every day. Every day. Every single fucking day. A slap here, a punch there, a kick now, a baseball bat then. And he had the scars and mental stability to prove it. But they weren't the ones that saw their experiences reflected in the pitiful cases brought into the ER every single day. Pitiful. He was just pitiful in their minds. Pitiful and pathetic. He was a loser, a loser, no one was sympathetic towards losers, they preyed on them, used their weaknesses against them. But they weren't the ones that went to sleep to nightmares and woke up to a life they couldn't stand, a life that was suffocating him slowly, mercilessly. They didn't have to deal with that. They were happy and prosperous and perfect. He was a loser. But they weren't the ones that needed to forget. And he did. He needed to, he needed to. He *had* to, or he would lose his mind...or at least what was left of it.

They wouldn't understand.

A surreptitious glance at John told him that the older man didn't know he was taking the pills either, but it was only a matter of time. It was only a matter of time before he became suspicious, it was only a matter of time before he began questioning Dave, it was only a matter of time. And what was he going to do then? Force him into rehab, just like they'd done to John? But Dave wasn't addicted, he needed these pills. He *needed* them. But John was just like the rest of them, and he would just think he knew what was best for Dave. John would force him into rehab and while he was gone he would leave, and Dave would come home to an empty apartment and an empty life.

John wouldn't understand. No one would understand.

They just wouldn't fucking understand.

-------------------------------------

Fall back on me, and Ill be the strength I need

To save me now, just come face to face with me

Stay in place, you'll be the first to see

Me heal these wounds

-------------------------------------

"Well, that proved to be utterly useless," Abby stated dryly as she and her two best friends exited the Lounge together.

John exchanged glances with Dave, who only offered a faux-shrug towards that comment. "What did you expect?" the Chief Resident asked. "For the culprit to just stand up and admit that he's the one taking the pills?"

"Who says it's a he?" Dave interjected, hoping that they'd get off the topic of this soon, though he knew it would be the only thing circling around the ER once the nurse's Rumor Mill got started. They'd probably make speculation, some would even try to play detective. Hopefully no one would go snooping around in his business, though he knew they'd write him off as too stupid to be stealing drugs for months without detection. Besides, they'd probably be focusing on John too much to even consider him. He glanced at the nurse before him pointedly. "For all we know it could be Abby."

"I'll pee in a cup right now, if you want me to," she declared, eyebrows raised.

"Would I get to watch? Maybe hold the cup??" Dave asked with a grin and a wink, but Abby just tossed him a look and then rolled her eyes. "Hey, you guys want to grab some lunch later?"

"Sure," Abby replied, with a wink of her own, and if she didn't know better she would have sworn that Dave was blushing.

"Can't," John stated. "I have a meeting with Weaver my lunch break."

"Have fun," Dave quipped.

Abby suddenly glanced over Dave's shoulder, her eyes fixing on someone behind the two men. "Weaver, six o'clock. We'd better get out of here, she's not in the greatest mood today."

"When is she?" Dave asked with a laugh as he made a quick dash for elsewhere.

-------------------------------------

I'm not breaking down

-------------------------------------

"Why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing."

"Yes, you are," John said. "You're grinning from ear to ear."

"That's different than laughing," Dave pointed out.

"That's not the point." He indicated the television. "That doctor just told his twelve-year-old patient she was going to die. And you're laughing."

"I'm not laughing."

It had been many hours since the staff meeting that morning, which seemed so long ago to both men. By now, the meeting was the furthest thing from their minds, discarded from their memory and forgotten. So, now, the two men were sprawled out on the couch in their living room, one of Dave's legs draped over John's, who was playing with the brown hair on the younger man's calf. Kermit was curled up in a ball and sleeping, having wedged himself between Dave's side and the couch back. Boxes of Chinese take-out nearly empty by now were sitting haphazardly on the coffee table in front of them, beer for Dave and soda for John also located on that same table.

"You're still smiling," John stated, but when he saw exactly what Dave was grinning about he found himself smiling as well. "You have a crush on that doctor, don't you?"

"I do not," he said indignantly, though his expression suggested otherwise.

"Yes, you do!" he exclaimed, sitting up. "Admit it! You have a crush on George Clooney."

"I do not have a crush on George Clooney." Pause. "Okay, so I have a little crush on George Clooney."

"George Clooney..." John said incredulously as he sat back against the couch once more. He was still grinning, unable to *not* take the chance to rip on Dave for his celebrity crush. "He could be your father."

Dave pulled a face. "George is only forty."

"So you two are on a first-name basis?" John teased.

Dave threw a pillow from the couch at John, which he caught but didn't throw back, instead placing it behind him and leaning against it. Dave stuck his tongue out at John, obviously let down that they weren't going to have a pillow fight, but John just wasn't up to it after today's seemingly endless shift. Sometimes John wondered how he ever kept up with the younger man's antics, but at least it kept him on his toes.

"It's a good thing that you didn't work at the hospital when Doug Ross worked there," John went on to say. "People were forever telling him that he looked like George Clooney. He used to get so annoyed when people used to tell him that," John said, laughing at the memory. "You would have had a hard time focusing on work with him around."

Once more relaxing and enveloped by the marathon of some medical drama they were watching on television, the two men sat in silence. Removing his leg from John, Dave leaned forward to grab more shrimp lo mein and beer when he heard John say: "Scott Bakula."

"What?" he asked, puzzled as he turned his head slightly to look at John from over his shoulder.

"Scott Bakula," John repeated, somewhat hesitantly. Dave only continued to stare at him blankly, so he continued, with a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes: "I...I think Scott Bakula's kinda...good-looking..."

"Scott Bakula...?" Dave asked, more to himself than John as he tried to place the name that he knew he had heard before. He suddenly smiled broadly, holding up his hands. "Wait...you don't mean that guy from that TV show, uh..." - he snapped his fingers several times repeatedly until it came to him - " 'Quantum Leap,' do you??"

"Yeah, that guy..." John replied sheepishly. He sat up again. "What?! What's so wrong with Scott Bakula??"

"Nothing!" Dave said as he snickered and tried to compress his laughter as best as possible, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. He leaned back on the couch again, accidentally squishing Kermit, who growled depreciatingly and stalked off to find a quieter place to rest. "But you do realize that Scott Bakula has to be at *least* ten years older than George Clooney."

"So?" John asked. "I'm older than you."

"By, like, two years!" Dave exclaimed, laughing, and was promptly hit with a pillow. "Hey! No fair! You stole mine!"

"Then steal it back," John simply said, holding up the pillow once more to hit Dave with it. He immediately regretted the comment when Dave shot up and straddled him between his knees, so quickly John could've blinked and missed it. The younger man grabbed the pillow from John with vigor, both men laughing before Dave hit John with it. "Dave! That hurt!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dave said, his laughter dying down as he moved John's hand away from his jaw to inspect it and make sure he hadn't done any damage to his lover. He saw the mischievous flicker in the older man's eyes too late, and before he knew it John had grabbed the pillow back and managed to playfully smack Dave square in the face. The younger man fell back against the seat of the couch, and now John was on top of him, the pillow wedged between them. "You cheated," Dave said, grinning, as was John. "You're a cheater."

"Am not," John said, but before Dave could reply with the traditional comeback, he kissed him on the lips. Dave chuckled into the kiss, knowing that that was the only reason John had done it at that time, but both men immediately turned to the television screen as they heard the familiar beeping of monitors blaring. "Think she'll make it?"

"Nope," Dave said. "I saw this one."

"Well, if you're going to keep grinning through the entire death scene," John said, causing Dave's grin to only widen, "then I'm going to go to the bathroom."

"Get me another beer while you're up?" Dave asked, holding up his empty bottle. John grabbed the bottle, and Dave watched him as he left the room, following the way John's figure moved beneath his clothes. He bit his lip, his mind wandering to bedtime activities, and he was suddenly anxious to get to bed. Hopefully after this marathon was over, he could convince John that they could stay up just a little later, even if the older man had an early shift tomorrow.

A few minutes later, after the little girl on television was dead and George Clooney's screen time was over, John joined Dave at the couch once more, but sat at the other end of it. Dave began relaying what had happened in his absence, including the fact that when they'd intubated the patient, they hadn't administered any type of drugs, which they should've. It took him a few moments to realize John wasn't paying attention, right before he realized the older man was looking rather...numb.

"You okay, John?" Dave asked, his brow furrowed as he did so. John remained silent for a minute, before Dave waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, Earth to John! And where's my beer?"

"You remember that meeting today?" John asked, though he wasn't looking at Dave.

"Yeah..." Dave replied slowly, eyeing John carefully. The meeting had been hours and hours ago, and neither of them had brought up the subject since. Why in God's name would John be bringing it up now?? "What about it?"

"Do you wonder who it is?" he asked, and only then did he turn to look at Dave, his eyes pinning Dave to the wall. The only thing the younger man could do was shrug, unable to form a sentence, a word, a sound - anything. "They must be pretty depressed, right?"

"I...I guess so..."

"How have you been feeling lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know..." John said, looking away once more, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking deeply. He seemed to be struggling for the words, possibly even trying to phrase them in his head before speaking out loud. "I mean...you've been acting erratic lately..."

"Erratic?" Dave asked, his eyes narrowing as his pulse quickened. Why was John asking him all of these questions?? Was he on to him? Did he figure out that Dave was taking pills? Maybe if he explained to him why, maybe if he told him that he had to...but did John really know? Maybe he was just concerned about his mood. Maybe, maybe, maybe... "What do you mean? What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not saying anything...it's just..." John said, but then trailed off with a sigh. He turned back to Dave, his eyes pleading. But what was the Chief Resident expecting? "I worry about you...your past and your nightmares and...I want to help you, but...I can't if you won't...talk to me..."

So that's what this was about, Dave decided, but probably only because he didn't want to think that it could be about anything else. Glancing away, he was suddenly at a loss for words. He'd discussed this before with John: he didn't want to talk about it. He'd stated that loud and clear, just like that so John couldn't misinterpret it. So why was he bringing it up now? Was Dave's mood really that off? Perhaps he should take something with the Demerol, to calm him down...

"Look, Dave..." John said when the Junior Resident didn't reply. He seemed to hesitate, before saying: "It's not healthy keeping it all inside. If you won't talk to me...would...will you at least talk to *someone*?"

"What?" Dave asked sharply, his voice suddenly taking on a defensive tone. "What do you mean, talk to someone??"

"I don't know, Dave..." John said, and then sighed, hating the direction in which this conversation was turning. "Like...like a..."

"Like a shrink??" Dave snapped. No way. No fucking way. No way was Dave going to see another one of those doctors. They hadn't helped years ago, and they sure as hell weren't going to help now. "No! No fucking way!"

"No!" John exclaimed before this whole thing blew up in his face. "Yes - I don't know! I just - I just want to help you!"

"I don't want your help," Dave said, as he walked into the kitchen to get his beer. God! If he couldn't have a pill right now he needed a beer - lots of them. He came back into the living room and opened his beer in an attempt to shrug the whole conversation off.

"Yeah?" John snapped, becoming angry now. He didn't know what pissed him off more: the fact that Dave walked away from him when he was talking to him, the fact that he was so nonchalant about the whole situation, or the fact that he was drinking beer. "Well, you need my help."

"Says who?" Dave asked. "You?? You think you know me, John? You have no idea..."

"Then tell me!" John said with desperation. Dave leaned back in his seat casually, raising the bottle to his lips as if they were still just kicking back and watching that medical drama on television, but John saw that Dave's hand was shaking. In a sudden burst of anger that John usually didn't display, the Chief Resident drew his hand back and knocked the bottle out of Dave's hand, sending it across the room and into the wall, where it hit but did not break. It landed to the floor with a muffled thud, beer flowing freely from it as it stained the carpet. "God damn it, Dave! God damn it! Stop drinking that fucking beer and talk to me!"

Dave was staring at the bottle on the floor, his expression showing his shock. John had seen him startle visibly as he'd knocked the bottle from his hand, and while he felt bad for doing that, he didn't regret his decision. Dave was going to talk or John was going to walk. At least that's the ultimatum he was going to give him - it wasn't to say he actually *would* leave, but he needed to make Dave open up.

"You think it's that fucking easy??" Dave yelled as he turned to look at John. "You really *don't* have any fucking idea." The Junior Resident suddenly stood from the couch, heading towards the hallway, his body ridged with anger...no, rage.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to bed," Dave said from over his shoulder.

"Oh, no, you're not!" John said, standing as well. He began to move towards Dave, who sharply turned on his heel and took a defensive stance. My God! John thought. He thinks I'm going to hurt him!

"Why? What are you going to do??" he asked, his face contorted with anger. "You gonna stop me? Gonna knock me around instead of that fucking beer bottle?? You want to hit me, John?"

"Dave, you know I'd never hurt you," was the first thing that John said. Did the younger man honestly think that John would hit him?? Dave stared him down for a few moments, making John feel suddenly embarrassed for his previous actions. But he'd just been so fed up with Dave's fa�ade...

"Well, you better be sure you can do it," Dave hissed, his eyes portraying more than he would ever say. "You better be positive you can take me, because I...I'll fight back. I'm not a little kid anymore, John, I know how to defend myself now."

"I'm not going to hit you, Dave," he said quietly.

"Then leave me alone," he said tiredly, turning once more and walking away, his shoulder sagging with defeat.

"Dave..."

"Goodnight, John."

-------------------------------------

Can I break away?

Push me away, make me fall

Just to see another side of me

Push me away, you can see

What I see: the other side of me

-------------------------------------

Dave closed the bedroom door silently, leaning his back against it and sighing heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair. What the hell was wrong with John? Why was he suddenly asking all these questions and why was he suddenly so concerned? He'd told him that he didn't want to talk about it, John knew that Dave didn't want to talk about it. He just didn't want to, why didn't John get that?!! Dave didn't even want to consider the "it wasn't healthy" bullshit. He'd been living like this for years now, and he was doing just fine. So he might take some pills to get through the day, and maybe he drank a little more than he should, but he was still doing just fine. He was fine. He was doing just fucking fine.

He would be even more fine if John would just stop probing him about his past. He didn't want to talk about it, because talking about it made him remember it all. And he certainly didn't want to remember it, he just wanted to forget it like a bad nightmare. That's all it had been, really: one terribly long fucking nightmare. And he would forget it if John would just shut the fuck up about it.

Damn it! Dave turned abruptly, thrusting his fist into the door, feeling the impact in his stinging knuckles. Closing his eyes, he decided that all he needed to do was calm down. Breathe in and out, in and out...that's it, just calm down, he told himself. But when it didn't have the desired effect, he found himself moving into the bathroom, suddenly needing something to take the edge off a bit.

Running his fingers through his hair once more, he took a deep breath before pulling open the mirror to reveal the medicine cabinet behind it. His eyes settled on the shelf where he kept his bottle of pills, but his brow furrowed as they met the empty space where he knew it used to stand. He felt his pulse quicken as he swallowed hard, his hands swiftly pushing other items out of the way as his eyes searched the shelf frantically. Where was it? Where the fuck was it?? It had to be here, it had to, it had to Goddamn be here!! He didn't take the bottle to work, he never took the bottle to work because he didn't want to risk someone finding them. Then where did he put them? They had to be here! And that was only because he didn't want to think of where else it *could* be.

Pulling his hands back abruptly, Dave stared at the almost empty medicine cabinet, most of the contents on the counter, in the sink or on the floor. Looking away with wild eyes, he glanced up once more as if to expect the pills to be there, that somehow he had just missed them. But they still weren't there, anywhere. But where the fuck could they be??

Closing the mirror numbly, Dave jumped in surprise as he saw John's reflection in the mirror, the older man standing in the doorway of the bathroom. How long had he been standing there, Dave wondered as he spun around, gasping audibly and letting out an intelligible exclamation of some sort when he saw John raise the missing bottle of pills from his side and into Dave's line of vision.

John gave the bottle a little shake, watching as the younger man visibly paled. "Looking for these?"

-------------------------------------

No one can see anything on the other side of me

I walk, I crawl, losing everything and waiting for the downfall

No one can see everything on the other side of me

I walk, I crawl, losing everything on the downfall

-------------------------------------

--------------------------- Chapter Thirteen: Fine Again ---------------------------

It seems like every day is the same

And I'm left to discover on my own

It seems like everything is gray

And there's no colors to behold

--

They say it's over

And I'm fine again

Try to stay sober

Feels like I'm dying here

---------------------------

It was raining lightly as Dr. Dave Malucci walked down the street alone. He didn't know exactly where he was because he had been walking for a very long while, so long he had lost track of time...or maybe it was the drugs, perhaps the alcohol. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten there, so backtracking his steps to his apartment would prove to be useless. He couldn't recall most of the night, really. He could vaguely remember going into various bars - how many he could not be sure of. He also vaguely remembered taking a few Klonopins and washing them down with a large glass of whiskey.

And, finally, he recalled that he had hit John Carter: his coworker, his friend, his boyfriend, his lover...whatever you wanted to call him, it didn't really matter. He was still the same person, and Dave had still hit him. Nothing would change that. No amount of alcohol or drugs, or anything. Nothing.

Dave didn't know how it had happened. One minute, John was holding up the pills, asking Dave if he had been looking for them. Dave had said yes, that they were his allergy pills. Then John had opened the bottle to reveal the Demerol, the Dexedrines, the Klonipins, the barbiturates, everything...the next thing Dave knew, he was wrestling John for the bottle of pills, which the older man had been about to flush down the toilet. Somehow, Dave had managed to hit him - so hard he had knocked John to the ground, a bruise already forming on his jaw by the time John stood.

But by that time, Dave had fled from the apartment, the bottle of pills going with him. He couldn't stay there, not after what he had done. He'd sworn to God that he would never hit anyone he loved, never, *never*. But there he was, hitting the one he loved more than anyone so he could get what he wanted. Just like his father. Dear Jesus, he was just like his father.

Suddenly, Dave sat down on the wet pavement, leaning against the brick building behind him. Burying his face in his hands, he wept, wondering how he had gotten to this point in his life, wondering how he had turned into the same man he had promised himself would never be. And, suddenly, he found himself doing the one thing he hadn't done in years, the one thing he thought he had forgotten how to - he was praying. He was praying that God would please take mercy on him and please forgive him and please, please please please...please, God, if He would do anything, would He please help him?

Dave just needed to calm down, that's all. If he calmed down, he could sort things out and then he'd know what to do. The Klonopins should've taken care of his nerves, so why weren't they working? Exactly how many had he taken? Not enough, apparently, because he could still feel, he could still remember. Slipping his hand into his jeans' pocket before he even knew what he was doing, Dave pulled out the bottle of pills, only having minor problems twisting off the cap with his shaking hands. Spilling them out into his palm, his eyes landed on the barbiturates, and he separated them from the bunch and popped them into his mouth before he had a chance to further contemplate the thought. He didn't even know how many he had taken, he just hoped they were enough to make him forget.

He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as he sat there for a minute, listening to his harsh breathing. When he heard sirens in the distance, he opened them again, finally taking a look at his surroundings. He wasn't in a good part of town, he realized, and he knew he'd better get out of here before he got mixed up in someone else's business. Quickly, he stood and swiftly made his way towards a place he hadn't been to in a while, hoping he would get there before it was too late.

-------------------------------------

And I am aware now of how everything's gonna be fine

One day, too late, I'm in Hell

And I am prepared now, it seems everyone's gonna be fine

One day, too late, just as well

-------------------------------------

Luka Kovac's bags sat next to his apartment door, packed and ready to go. He would be leaving in the morning, a reserved driver from a limousine service taking him to the airport two hours before his flight was due to take off. He was going to Bosnia, on a Doctors Without Borders program, where he would treat the citizens for two months before returning to the United States. Perhaps while he was there he would even visit Bosnia's neighboring country - and his home - Croatia. He hadn't seen his father in a few years, or visited his dead family in a few years for that matter either. Perhaps a visit to both would be good.

Flicking off the television, Luka stretched on the couch and yawned deeply. It had been his first day shift in a while, and his body seemed to refuse to adjust to the hours. Therefore, he was still up at this late hour, but Luka now decided that it was time to attempt sleep. Standing as he placed the remote on the end of the couch, he jumped slightly as he heard his doorbell ring. Who could it be at twelve o'clock in the morning?

Cautiously, Luka crossed the room to his apartment door, glancing into the peephole to see who it was. He leaned back in surprise as he saw who was at his door, and then looked again just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Unlocking the door, he pulled it open, coming face to face with the man behind it.

"Carter," he said, unable to hide the surprise he still felt in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Dave," he announced, his expression showing his concern. Luka took in the younger man's bruised jaw but offered no comment. "We got into a fight and he left, and I didn't know if he came here."

"Why would he be here?" Luka asked when the Chief Resident didn't elaborate.

"I don't know, I'm checking everywhere," John stated, exasperated now, obviously unwilling to go into details. "Has he been here?"

"No, I haven't seen him," Luka said, shaking his head. He nodded towards John's jaw, remembering the fight between himself and Dave that had happened in the summer. "What kind of fight did you get into?"

"Uh..." John stammered, self-consciously touching his bruise. "It wasn't physical, it was just..." He suddenly paused, as if realizing what he was about to say. "Look, can you call me if he comes by? It doesn't matter what time it is or anything, just call me."

"Sure," Luka replied, and then narrowed his eyes as John handed him a small piece of paper with his phone number, apparently written beforehand. He hesitated only briefly. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, yeah," John said, but then glanced up at Luka pleadingly. "I just...I can't...I'm sorry, Dr. Kovac, would you just please call me if he comes by? It's very important." The Attending only nodded, though his expression displayed his curiosity and slight puzzlement. "Thanks."

And then, just as surprisingly as he had arrived, Dr. Carter was gone. The younger man was clearly stating that whatever had happened wasn't his business, but it was obviously important for reasons unknown to Luka. And while he had wanted to ask, he had bitten his tongue and refrained from doing so. He wasn't a part of Dave's life anymore, and he was almost disappointed in a way to think that he never really had been.

It was his own fault really, he'd never wanted it to go further than what it was, which was his need to "walk on the wild side," as Dave put it once. He had always secretly thought that Dave was just an experience, that he was better than Dave - had more class, more intellect, more feelings. Now he saw that he was wrong, wrong in so many ways. Dave did have feelings, and all he wanted was to be cared about and respected.

Dave had respected Luka's wishes, and he let Luka use him. But why would Dave do that? Did Dave have that low opinion of himself? Then it hit Luka: Dave, for all his outward appearance and bravado, really didn't think he was worth anything to anyone. And Luka certainly hadn't helped matters any. Well, Luka thought with a sigh, he wanted a sexual relationship with Dave - *just* a sexual relationship with Dave - and that's what he ended up with. What was that American saying? Pay attention to what you wish? Watch out what you wish for? He wasn't sure, he could never really get those sayings right.

Luka watched the Jeep's taillights as the vehicle drove away into the rain, where it disappeared around the corner. He wondered where "everywhere" meant when Carter said that he'd looked everywhere for Dave, thinking that perhaps he meant Abby's apartment as well. The rumors of Dave and Abby were still abounding, but it was considered common knowledge around the hospital that the two were a couple. Luka, however, knew better than this after witnessing what had happened a few nights ago when John had brought Dave into the emergency room after being jumped. John and Dave's reactions had given them away to the older man, who would only guess because he knew of Dave's sexuality. Even then, he'd still contemplated the fact that Dave could've been seeing both Abby and John, one not knowing of the other or perhaps just Abby not knowing about John. However, Abby's reaction to the whole situation had not been one of a lover, but one of a good friend.

Leaning against the doorway heavily, Luka watched the rainfall as he remembered last summer, when he and Dave had gotten into the fight that had ended their relationship. He suddenly scoffed, recalling how that night he had specifically told Dave - rather callously - that they had never been in a relationship, ever. He suddenly remembered everything, and suddenly found that night's events rushing back to him in one hard blow and for the first time he understood how Dave must have felt.

---

I feel the dream in me expire

And there's no one left to blame it on

I hear you label me a liar

'Cause I can't seem to get this through

--

You say it's over

I can sigh again, yeah

Why try to say sober

When I'm dying here?

---

The evening had started out uncomfortable even before they'd left Luka's apartment. Dave had wanted to leave for the bar earlier, but Luka had found his new Sony PlayStation far too interesting to pass up, so the younger man had sat rather impatiently on the couch until about nine-thirty at night before Luka lost at a level and turned off the machine. Once they'd arrived at the dimly lit tavern, Luka had greeted two elderly chess players who were regulars, Dave inquiring if Luka knew them and finding out that they'd met at lunch.

"Delirium Tremens?" the pretty French waitress had asked Luka once the two men had been seated at a table. It was a pretty strong beer, with a pretty unique name, and he wondered how the two had met. Dave had narrowed his eyes as they'd continued to flirt, before interrupting their love-fest to order a Corona and a couple of menus. "I'm sorry, the kitchen closes at ten," she then reported.

"It's, like, 10:02," Dave said with slight incredulity as he glanced at his watch.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, and Dave seemed as if he were about to say something rude or perhaps make a scene, so before that happened, Luka stepped in and asked if there were any appetizers left over. "I think the soup is still there," the waitress replied. "Potato cream?"

Dave glared daggers at Luka, silently fantasizing about pouring that soup up the waitress's cute French nostrils. He considered putting that fantasy into words, though eventually, he replied: "Just the beers, please."

The night had gone downhill from there. Luka had decided to play a game of pool with another man who happened to be from Croatia as well, and Dave had been stuck talking to one of the chess-players, who insisted that Dave check out his hand and figure out why it was bothering him so much. Dave had off-handedly replied that he should let Luka look at it, since the Attending was pretty good with pus. Then he'd stuck his arm up in the air, pointing to his watch as Luka caught sight of him, making it very clear that he wanted to go home.

"Cigarette?" the old man sitting across from him had then asked.

Dave actually considered it for a moment. "No thanks. I don't smoke."

His cellular phone had rung at that moment, and when he answered it he was mildly surprised that it was Carter. He hadn't even known that the Resident had had his number. They'd discussed a patient for a few moments, clearing up the fact that no, Dave hadn't administered GENT, and *then* Luka had decided that now was the time to leave.

"You don't have to hang up for me," Luka had replied rather haughtily when Dave hung up, knowing full well that it had been Dr. Carter on the phone.

"Ready to go?" Dave asked, hoping to avoid confrontation tonight. He was hungry, and he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go home, get something to eat, and then go straight to bed.

"If you want," Luka had then shrugged.

"Yeah, I want," Dave had snapped, by now getting rather annoyed with the older man.

"Fine," Luka muttered in response, before stalking off to get the check.

"Oh, now *he's* mad?" Dave said to his chess-playing companion, who was still seated across from him and had witnessed the short exchange. "I didn't even want to fucking come here."

Twenty full minutes later, Dave was still stuck at the table with the old man while Luka had now decided to get into a fairly long discussion with his Croatian friend. That's it. Dave had had enough of Luka's shit for tonight, no way in *hell* was he going to stay here another minute and take all of this nonsense. Standing, he approached Luka at the bar, and then proceeded to announce: "I'm taking a cab."

"What?" Luka had asked, but Dave didn't bother to answer him as he stormed out of the tavern, the older man following close behind. The Junior Resident stepped outside into the warm summer air, pulling out his cell phone and figuring he could dial information for the nearest taxicab service when he heard Luka's voice once more. "That guy's father was diagnosed with prostate cancer last month. He was asking for treatment options!"

"No, it's fine," Dave insisted, though his tone indicated that it was *far* from fine. He raised his hands in the air in mock-surrender, saying, "Go back in there and play doctor, I don't care."

"You should try it sometime," Luka hissed, and Dave turned to face him with a silent glare, ready to retaliate until the standoff was suddenly broken:

"Luka!" they both suddenly heard from behind them, and Dave quietly seethed as he recognized the voice of the pretty French waitress. "You forgot your credit card!" Approaching her, Luka fumbled with the tip as she said so sweetly Dave feared that he just might get diabetes, "The last two were on the house. We want to make sure you come back." The Attending then thanked the waitress, who called to Dave: "Nice meeting you!"

"Yeah," he snapped in reply, and then stalked off, trying to figure out the best way to get to the El train station since he didn't travel by it very often, especially from this part of town.

"Could you be a little bit more rude?" Luka asked, once he caught up with Dave, his tone incredulous.

"Could you be a little bit more friendly??" Dave fumed.

"I'm glad one of us is," the older man reported, following close behind.

"You know what?" Dave asked, stopping suddenly and spinning around, Luka almost knocking into him. "I told you I didn't care. Go back into the bar, and cure cancer for the UN for while you're at it, okay?? And when you're done, why don't you just go ahead and fuck that stupid no-brained slut!"

"Been there," Luka spat, looking directly at Dave, "done that - with *you*."

"Oh, right, Luka," Dave hissed sarcastically, continuing on his walk to the EL. "I'm such a fucking idiot. And I'm such a whore! You're the one that let's me fuck you every night. So what does that say about you, Luka?? Oh, yeah, that's right. You're a *saint*! Silly me, I forgot."

"I'm sick of it," Luka suddenly said, throwing his arms up in the air as Dave saw the El Platform nearby and began moving at a steady pace for it. "I'm just plain sick of it!" he repeated, this time more angrily.

"Sick of what?" Dave asked. "Sick of me? I haven't done anything to you! I've given you everything you wanted, and then some! And you're 'sick of it'??"

As they moved up the steps to the platform, the Junior Resident could see the train was about to leave. Quickly, he made a dash for it, just making it before it left the station, and he was almost surprised that Luka had followed him. He was almost hoping that perhaps Luka would give up already, that tomorrow they could deal with this since it was late, and Dave was tired, and still quite hungry, but the older man was still there.

Facing away from Luka, Dave crossed his arms over his chest, asking rather calmly: "What are you sick of? Me? This fight? What??"

"I'm sick of everything, Dave," he replied, his anger rising as Dave kept his back towards him, unwilling to even *look* at him during this argument. It was the least he could've done. "Especially your behavior back there." The train came to a stop, and as Dave glanced at the map of the different lines kept near the ceiling, he noted that it was his stop. Brushing past Luka rather roughly, he exited the train, and Luka followed with a sigh. "I was just trying to have fun! Is that such a crime??"

"No, go have fun," Dave said, raising his arms in the air in a dismissive manner as he quickly walked down the platform, Luka still following him. "I'm a big boy now, I can walk home all by myself, don't worry about me."

"Then why are you acting like a fucking toddler?"

"That's right, Luka!" Dave countered, his voice edged with sarcasm. "You are *always* right and I am *always* wrong..."

"Why do you have to make a big problem out of everything?" the Attending asked, his words edged with impatience. "It's like you have an insect in your anus!"

Dave scoffed. " 'Bug up my ass,' Luka, it's *bug* up my ass. If you're going to insult me, you can at least get the words right."

"Fine," Luka spat angrily, offended. "Then how about this: stop being such an asshole."

"I'm being an asshole?" Dave asked, laughing, though it was anything but amused. "*I'm* the one being an asshole?? You're the one that takes me to this fucking tavern that isn't even serving food anymore, after I come home from a twelve-hour shift! You're the one that's flirting with that waitress when I'm sitting right there, regardless of how it would make me feel. And *you're* the one that leaves your date with some old chess-player to go play pool with one of your friends!"

"What makes you think this was a date, Malucci??"

"Hello!" Dave said, dread creeping up on him as he wondered what exactly Luka meant by that question. "Where have you been the past month??"

"Ha!" Luka laughed harshly. "What, you think this is some sort of...relationship?"

"So what has this been to you?" Dave asked, his mind racing. What was Luka trying to say?? "What...what has this been to you??"

"That question," Luka said, his words laced with pure contempt, "would imply that this was anything at all."

Dave slowed to a stop, and Luka stopped as well, turning to see Dave looking up at him with an almost horrified expression. His eyes were searching Luka's, but the older man offered no comment, and the Junior Resident soon looked away, unable to form words or even make a movement.

Then, finally, "What? That's...this has been *nothing* to you?? Just...just..."

"That's right," Luka said, his anger and perhaps the alcohol consumed tonight getting the best of him. He moved close to Dave, deliberately close, knowing Dave hated it when Luka did that, when Luka overpowered him. The younger man began to turn to walk away, but Luka grabbed him by his arm and forced him to face him. "I used you, Malucci. You were an experiment...a toy. And a good one, at that. But that's all you ever were to me...just a toy."

"Get off me, Luka." Dave suddenly pushed Luka away from him, almost causing the older man to fall, but he kept his grip on Dave's arm, and pushed the younger man back, causing Dave to hit the wall behind him. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Always what you want, isn't it??" Luka spat, and though Dave struggled to get out of his grasp, Luka did not relent. He was sick and tired of Dave getting the last word, winning every argument, being able to call the shots and back out whenever he wanted to. "When am I going to be able to get what I want, huh? Why do you always get everything, and I get stuck listening to you? When am I going to get what I want?" he asked again.

"I said get *off* me!" Dave said, desperation clear in his voice, and Luka was about to let go when suddenly the younger man swung at him wildly. He grazed Luka's solar plexus, and would've knocked the wind out of the older man had he not gotten out of the way in time. Dave stood there, breathing heavily, as Luka listened, who was silently fuming, hardly able to control his anger by now. "What *you* want? I've always done what you want! I kept this a secret, I kept it from everyone. I left when you wanted me to, I came back when you wanted me to. It's always been what you want, *always*!!

"Well what about what I want, Luka?" Dave yelled, continuing his tirade, now standing close to the older man, staring Luka down even though he was considerably shorter. And he kept moving forward, getting in Luka's face, taunting him, and dangerously so. "What about me? Yeah, I'm here, I was a part of this too! You're telling me for the past month I was being used? Because you wanted to experiment? You wanted a toy?? Well you got what you wanted, Luka! What about me, huh? Did you ever even care to consider about how I felt??"

"Oh, please," Luka said, his face contorted with anger. "As if you are *always* so considerate of other's feelings. Since when are *you* the saint, Dave??"

"But you are, Mr. Self-Righteous," Dave shot back, inching closer towards Luka. "Why don't you get off your fucking throne for once. Oh, what's wrong? Afraid people will find out what you're *really* like? Hmm?? How do you think Abby would respond to that, huh? Or do you think she'd rather hear how you beg me to fuck you every. Single. Night. Or *maybe* - "

Dave didn't even realize what had happened until he was holding his stinging cheek, and then he looked up at Luka with wide eyes before remembering to breathe. And, suddenly, he found himself looking into his father's eyes. And, just as suddenly, he had an urgent need to get away from Luka. But almost as if sensing this need, the Attending stepped closer to him, too close for Dave's comfort, backing Dave up against the wall once more, his face very close to Dave's, but the younger man could not meet the older man's eyes.

"If you ever," Luka started, his anger getting the best of him, "say anything to anyone, your cheek won't be the only thing hurting. I will ruin you, Malucci. I will kill you. Is that clear?"

"Right, yeah," Dave breathed, still unable to make eye contact. "Crystal clear...frighteningly clear...uh...I...I have to go now. I have an early shift..."

"Remember what I said," Luka said, but Dave briskly walked away in the opposite direction of his apartment, and the Attending had even begun to go after him, but realized with deep regret what exactly he had said and done. Kicking himself mentally, he watched the younger man stalk off.

Luka went home that night feeling terrible for what he had said and did to Dave. He had scared him visibly, and while it had been what he intended, he still felt bad. Something terrible had happened to Dave a long time ago, and even though Luka didn't know what it was, he knew something had happened to him and he had exploited it tonight. God, what had he done??

With a sigh and an almost pained expression, Luka had then reached for the phone and dialed Dave's phone number, but neither the answering machine nor Dave picked up. Dave always left his answering machine on, even when he was home, and Luka knew that Dave had to have shut it off when he came home, which meant two things: he was home, and he wasn't answering the phone. Luka couldn't blame him - hell, if the situation were reversed he wouldn't want to talk to him either.

Later that night, lying in bed as he attempted to sleep though he knew it would not come, Luka still couldn't get Dave out of his mind. He would have to make it up to Dave somehow...some way. With slight surprise, he wondered what if Dave would not allow him to do that? What if Dave never wanted to see him again, which he probably wouldn't. Luka had insulted him, struck him, scared him, threatened him... Why *would* Dave want to see him again after tonight?

And only then did Luka realize he had probably missed the best opportunity that had been offered to him in a long time.

---

And I'm not scared now

I must assure you: you're never gonna get away

And I'm not scared now, and I'm not scared now, no...

---

Sighing now, Luka was about to close the door, was in the process of doing so, when suddenly a hand reached out and stopped him, a figure slumping in the doorway, clearly out of breath. The older man startled visibly, pulling the door open again as he spoke.

"Dave, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Carter was just here looking for you."

"I know, I saw him," Dave said, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, then glancing over his shoulder as if afraid to be seen.

"God, you're soaking wet," he said, grasping Dave's wet sweatshirt and guiding him inside. He closed the door behind the younger man, turning away from him and heading towards his kitchen nook. "Let me call Carter so he can come pick you up. I swear you just missed him."

"No, don't call him!" Dave exclaimed, and Luka turned to him in surprise only to see the younger man stumbling towards him. His words were slurred, his face flushed, and he clearly wasn't in a lucid state of mind. Carter couldn't find Dave because he had probably been hiding out at a bar, drinking himself senseless. The younger man suddenly grimaced, placing a hand to his head. "Shit, Luka, do you have any Aspirin?"

"Yeah, in the bathroom," Luka said. Dave turned and quickly walked inside of it, not bothering to close the door behind him, but checking to make sure Luka was not looking. The older man was heading for the phone, and while doing that, Dave quickly opened the bottle of pills and dumped the rest of them into his hand. He needed to forget, to forget everything while he was here, he just needed to be here, right now, and not remember anything. Nothing, nothing...absolutely nothing. "I think I should call Carter. He was pretty worried."

"Please, don't, Luka..." Dave said desperately as he emerged from the bathroom after quickly downing the last of the pills in the bottle.

Luka let the subject of the phone call slide for now as he eyed Dave suspiciously. "What exactly happened tonight?"

"I don't know," Dave said, a pained expression crossing his face that wasn't because of his drunken stupor. His composure was quickly dissolving, his breathing increasing to short ragged bursts. "I just...he kept asking me all these questions...I don't know! I can't remember!"

"Dave, it's all right, just calm down," Luka said reassuringly, warily approaching the younger man, placing his hands on Dave's shoulders. He moved one of his hands, brushing against Dave's neck, but then paused there as he felt the heat emanating off of the younger man's skin. Moving his hand to Dave's cheek, he said: "Dave, you're burning up! Maybe I should take you to the hospital."

The sentence was barely finished when Dave said, shaking his head: "No..."

"At least let me call Carter," Luka tried to reason as he began to take Dave's pulse, which was surprisingly weak and irregular.

"No!" he exclaimed, more urgency in his voice this time. He took a step closer to Luka, standing impossibly close to Luka, his hands running over Luka's chest and his hot breath on Luka's neck. "No hospital, no Carter, just...here. I don't want to go anywhere but here...please, Luka? Let me stay?"

"Dave..." Luka began to protest, and as the younger man leaned forward to kiss him, he leaned back and out of his reach. But Dave was determined to do this, and he placed his hands on each side of Luka's face, pulling him towards him, pressing his lips firmly on the older man's. But Luka only placed his hands firmly on Dave's chest, gently pushing him away and breaking the kiss. As much as Luka wanted this, he knew that this was wrong, that Dave was drunk, that this would never happen on a normal day. "Dave, we can't. I'm going to call Carter, and you're going to go home."

"No, Luka, please," Dave pleaded, and Luka was about to push the younger man totally out of his reach when he looked down at the man before him. All words escaped him at that moment as he saw the need in Dave's eyes - the need for *him*. And that was something he hadn't seen there in a long time, something he'd been *longing* to see there for a long time. "Luka, please, can't we just do this? I...I need this, I need..."

Luka's logic and desires warred with one another. He'd wanted this for so long, had fought for Dave for so long, but something in Luka's mind told him this wasn't right. But when Dave's hands brushed over Luka's nipples through the thin fabric of his white undershirt, sending small waves of pleasure through him, all logic was lost and Luka was left with was pure desire.

The Attending leaned down and encased Dave's lips in his own, the younger man's mouth dry for reasons Luka didn't care to consider. All he cared about right now was having Dave -- *taking* Dave, taking him right now, taking what was and should still be his. Dave, apparently feeling the same way, moved his hands to the small of Luka's back, lower now and over his ass. Luka dared to do the same, but the younger man flinched, and continued to do so as Luka didn't remove his hands from Dave's body.

"Wait..." Dave said shakily, breaking the kiss.

"Dave, don't stop," Luka said, his voice rough with desire, and Dave suddenly flinched again, but was soon kissing Luka's neck, his hands moving to Luka's sweatpants. But his coordination was off, and he couldn't get the tie undone, so Luka placed his hands on top of Dave's and helped him do so. The younger man pushed down his sweats, revealing his growing erection, and then looked up at him with wild eyes. Alarmed, Luka asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing," Dave breathed, grabbing Luka's hot, hard member, eliciting a gasp from the older man, and then a low moan as Dave began to pump him. God, he'd wanted this for so long, missed this for so long...he'd almost forgotten what Dave felt like on his skin. But all the sensations were coming back, all of the touches and caresses and kisses and, God, everything, everything...

Suddenly, Dave was gently pushing Luka back against the wall, his kisses trailing down Luka's chest, to his stomach, to the soft hairs below his waist, and only then did he realize what Dave was about to do. Dave had never ever given him head before, had even outright declared that he wouldn't do it - ever - and Luka felt himself grow harder with anticipation, wondering what exactly it would feel like. He watched with awed eyes as Dave hesitated only briefly before continuing with the task at hand.

Luka had to stop himself from coming right then and there as he felt Dave's mouth on his cock, Dave's tongue working him over, driving him crazy. He moaned and tried to thrust into Dave's mouth, but the younger man kept a firm grip on his hips, holding him against the wall. Luka's breathing was quick and erratic, and he could feel a heat building from deep in his belly as Dave moved his mouth up and down the length of his cock. He ran his fingers through Dave's hair, grasping at the locks and tossing his own head back with a grunt as he felt himself go over the edge, coming hard and fast into Dave's warm, velvety throat.

There was silence as Dave disengaged himself from Luka, who was leaning against the wall with closed eyes, trying to regain his senses as his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. He opened his eyes as he heard a sound from below. Breathing. Harsh breathing. *Dave's* harsh breathing. Glancing down, he could see the younger man still kneeling, though he seemed to be nothing more than a wet mess on the floor. Squatting to be eye level with Dave, pulling up his sweatpants as he did so, Luka could now see that Dave's expression showed his terror, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated, sweat forming over his brow. Luka reached out and touched his cheek, but Dave gasped and stumbled backwards, landing on his butt, looking up at Luka as if he was surprised to see him standing there.

"Oh, God," Dave said as one hand flew to his mouth, rubbing at his lips as if that alone would undo what he had just done. He scrambled to his feet, his breathing still heavy as he visibly shook. Worried as to what could possibly cause the younger man to behave like this, Luka stood, taking a step towards Dave, who immediately took two steps back with pure childlike fear crossing his face.

"Dave, what's wrong?" Luka asked, but the younger man quickly turned away from him and ran into his bedroom, and then into the bathroom, tripping and falling hard onto his knees in front of the commode as he did so. Seemingly unfazed by this, Dave pushed open the lid, but instead of throwing up, he dry heaved for a moment before resting his head in his hands and trying to control his breathing, as if he were about to cry or breakdown, or perhaps both. Luka cautiously approached the bathroom, standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfolding before him. Something was *definitely* wrong here, that was for sure, but Luka didn't know what it was, and right about now he was wishing Carter had told him just *how* important it was that he immediately call him, because he would've done it a hell of a lot sooner. "Dave, I'm going to call Carter."

"What?" Dave suddenly asked, looking at him with frightened eyes. "No, don't, please, Luka..."

"He's very worried about you, and now I can see why," he stated, his eyes searching Dave's as if that alone would tell him what was wrong. He began to turn and stand when Dave grabbed his shirt, stopping him from doing so. "Dave..." Luka began, as Dave struggled to his feet.

"No, please, please don't," Dave pleaded, his eyes beseeching, as were his words. But there was an unnecessary amount of urgency in his voice, as if he were afraid of what might happen. Then, unexpectedly, Dave moved closer to him, pushing his hands under Luka's shirt, running his fingers through Luka's chest hair. "Please, don't...I'll do anything you want..."

"What?" What the hell was going on?? "I'm calling an ambulance."

"I'm sorry!" Dave then seemed to try, when his other protests didn't work. "Please, I'm sorry, just...I just wanted to...please, don't hurt me..."

What the fuck? "Hurt you??"

"Please..." Dave pleaded, leaning close to Luka, his hot breath on Luka's neck. "I'll do anything you want...or...you could do anything you want to me...I won't even scream, I know you don't like it when I scream..."

Luka suddenly pushed Dave away in surprise, more roughly then he had intended to, and the younger man fell into the wall behind him in the small bathroom, grunting as he did so. He lowered his head, bursting into tears as he tried to shield himself from Luka's standing form, like he was expecting a beating. What was going on here?? Dave was acting crazy, irrational, like some psychotic patient he'd see in the ER.

"I'm so sorry," Dave cried. "I just...I just wanted to..."

"Just wanted to what?" Luka finally asked, realizing that Dave had said that several times tonight, but had never finished his sentence. He reached out and touched the younger man's shoulder, but Dave only pulled away violently, and ended up slamming the back of his shoulder into the wall behind him with a yelp. "Dave, I'm calling an ambulance."

This news only seemed to upset Dave more, who began to sob as Luka turned and walked into his bedroom, snatching his cell phone off of his nightstand as he sat down on the bed. He grabbed Carter's phone number from his pocket, angrily punching it in as he glanced out the window and into the dark rainy night. It barely rung before the Chief Resident answered with a harried: "Hello?"

"It's Luka," he stated. "Dave's here."

"He is?" Carter's voice was full of hope.

"Yes, he is," Luka snapped. "And why didn't you warn me?"

"Warn you?"

"Yeah, warn me," Luka continued on to say. "About his condition. Right now he's on my bathroom floor drunk out of his mind, crying his eyes out and begging for me not to hurt him."

"Luka, I'm so sorry." Carter's voice rang with sincerity, but was then filled with an urgency that Luka had only witness back in Croatia - back during the war. "Luka, you need to get Dave to the hospital. He's taken some pills..." Oh, God. It was all making sense now. All the different symptoms he had: headache, dry mouth, flushed skin, dilated pupils, fever, dizziness, nausea, weak pulse, irregular heartbeat...Dave wasn't only drunk. He was overdosing. "Don't even wait for me, I'll meet you there...Luka? Are you still there?"

Silence. Dave was being silent. Luka heard nothing from behind him, no sobbing, no sniffling, no harsh breathing, no words, no nothing. He turned sharply towards the open bathroom door, only seeing an empty space where Dave used to be. Then, a door opening and slamming closed, and Luka's head snapped towards the direction of his front foyer. "Shit!!"

He ran out of his room and descended the hallway, emerging into his living room already out of breath from adrenaline, crossing the room to the front door, which he opened with a flourish to reveal the pouring steady rain on the empty street. He stepped out of his apartment building and onto the sidewalk, the cold drops biting into his flesh, but that was the last thing on his mind as he called out Dave's name, glancing in both directions on the sidewalk. "Dave!!" Damn it, where the hell could he have gone? He only had a few minutes on Luka. But the older man was hardly dressed to go hunting for the lost resident, and by the time he pulled on warm clothes, socks and shoes, and his coat...Dave would already be long gone. He probably already was.

"Luka, what's going on??" He suddenly heard John's voice exploding from the other side of his phone, which was now at his side, though gripped tightly in his hand. He brought the phone to his ear, sighing sadly as he continued to stand in the rain, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Luka?? Are you there? What's wrong??"

"Carter, Dave's gone," he reported softly. "I turned my back for a second, I...it doesn't matter, he's..." Another sad sigh. "He is gone."

-------------------------------------

And I am prepared now

It seems everyone's gonna be fine

For me, for me, for myself

-------------------------------------

As he was walking through the rain to his home, he was crying. Dave had been doing that a lot lately, and it seemed that each time he hated himself more and more for doing it. Crying was for sissies that couldn't handle the pressure of whatever was going on at the time, or maybe everything that was going on at the time. Crying was what his father had gotten the pleasure of seeing him do every single day when he was a kid, what his father had looked *forward* too every single fucking day. And here he was again, giving his father the satisfaction of being able to do this to him, even in death. God, he would never escape the man he hated.

He realized with dread that the only reason his father would haunt him for the rest of his days was because he was turning into him. After all, hadn't Dave just hit someone he loved today? Hurt the person that meant the most to him? Just more fuel to add to the fire, he thought bitterly, as he neared his apartment building.

Perhaps if he just tried to explain to John what was happening, then maybe he would understand, and everything would be okay. Yeah. Okay. Yeah...he could just tell John what was going on, assure him that everything was okay, and everything would go back to normal, back to the way it was. And they could forget about this night, forget about how Dave had hit him, and everything would be okay, everything would be all right. But even as Dave considered this, he knew that it was out of the question.

A sudden pain ripped through him, causing him to double over, clutching his stomach and the side of the hallway of his apartment building. He hadn't remembered walking inside, but he was there, out of the rain, dripping puddles of water all over the hardwood floor while he felt as if he were going to vomit any second. Taking deep breaths, he stood upright slowly, testing out his bearings before going any further. But it came again, shortly thereafter, and he was forced to pause in his walk, though he was at his apartment door now.

Ringing the doorbell of his own apartment, he found it increasingly hard to breathe as sweat began forming over his brow. He was probably just panicking, he thought, but panicking over what? Over the fact that John might not ever want to see him again, he decided. Oh God. What if John really never *did* want to see him again? He jabbed at the doorbell one more time before reaching into his pocket and extracting his keys. With shaking hands, he finally got the front door open after several attempts and several minutes, and then stepped inside the dark apartment, hastily closing the door behind him.

"John?" he gasped, the word strangled in his dry throat. He turned in the darkness, but when he took a step forward he found himself unimaginably dizzy and had to reach out to grab onto the end table near the couch in order to steady himself. God, he thought as it became harder and harder to get air with each passing second. It felt as if someone was squeezing the life out of his heart. "John!"

With an overwhelming sense of dread, he realized that John was gone - forever. But he wouldn't accept that. Maybe, maybe if he just made it to the bed, he could go to sleep, and when he woke up, John would be next to him, and everything would be okay. It would be a new day, and he would be a new person, and what had happened tonight would be nothing more than a memory to be forgotten. He just had to make it to bed, he needed to make it to bed...

But he would never make it to the bed. He would never even make it to the bedroom. David Malucci would die tonight, soaking wet and collapsed on the living room floor, staining the clean carpet in his death, nothing more than a mess of the man he would like to think that he used to be. And he realized this with regret, saddened deeply by the fact that he would never get to see John again, and he prayed to God that the Chief Resident would save him. Just save him long enough so that he could apologize to him, to the one person he loved. With that, he found it kind of funny that the thought of John first and God last, but he didn't have time to ponder the thought as his eyes slid closed and he gave in to the permanent darkness, a darkness that was more comforting than anything he had ever known in his entire twenty-eight years on this earth.

And David Malucci was finally at rest.

-------------------------------------

And I am fine...again

-------------------------------------

------------------------------------- Chapter Fourteen: Break Her Fall -------------------------------------

Rain

Coming to cleanse

Will she fall?

Stares

Into the wind

And she cries

-------------------------------------

What the hell had he been thinking?

John Carter had been asking himself that same question over and over again since he'd so *stupidly* confronted Dave in the bathroom just hours earlier. John could remember his own intervention at the ER, when his coworkers and friends had approached him about his drug addiction. They'd been considerably patient with him during the whole thing, and John had walked out on them, what made him think Dave wouldn't do the same, especially with the way John had approached him? He'd just had this idea implanted in his mind that Dave would crack and ask John to save him, but of course Dave wouldn't do that! Dave was...well, he was just Dave! The younger man could barely ask for help about a patient in the ER, let alone asking for help for himself!

He knew how Dave could get, but yet he hadn't even tried to reason with the younger man before badgering him with questions and sarcastic remarks. God, he thought again, for the billionth time that night. What the hell had he been *thinking* when he'd found those pills? He probably hadn't even been thinking at all. He'd just walked back into the living room, rejoining Dave on the couch, and then began asking him all those questions. He'd angered Dave enough after that, but instead of leaving it alone or trying to talk to Dave after the younger man had calmed down, he'd decided that the night wasn't over just yet after hearing the younger man searching for his pills in the medicine cabinet.

"Looking for these?" he'd asked oh-so haughtily, even giving the pills a little shake.

Dave had turned, surprised, visibly paled and wide-eyed. "Uh...I just...my ribs were bothering me. I was just going to take a painkiller before I go to bed."

"Really? Hmmm, which one?" John then asked, as Dave reached for the bottle, but the older man only backed up, keeping them out of his reach. "No, I'll get it for you. What do you want? Demerol? Percocets? Or maybe the Vicodin that Weaver gave you? Or maybe you want something to mellow you out after that argument we just had...how about a Xanax or a Klonopin? Or perhaps you want a pick-me-up, so we can lose ourselves in great sex. Isn't that what the Dexedrine is for? Give me a clue here, Dave, which pill do you want?? Maybe you want a few of each. What do you say, Dave? How about a cocktail??"

"I..." Dave tried, reaching feebly for the pills again, though John just took another step back. He could see that Dave was trying to search for an excuse, though the younger man just replied with: "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know what I'm talking about? You don't know what I'm *talking about*??" John yelled, twisting off the cap roughly and spilling some of the pills out onto his palm, holding them out for Dave to see. "I'm talking about this, Dave!" He threw the pills into Dave's chest, whose expression showed his horror. "I'm talking about *this*!!"

"John, stop it!" Dave said, desperation laced in his voice. "It's not what you think!"

"Then what is it?" John asked, his words beseeching, his eyes begging Dave to prove him wrong, though he knew the younger man could not do that. His voice was almost a whisper as he repeated: "Dave, please, tell me, what is it??"

"I just..." He opened his mouth but no words came for several moments. Then, finally, his shoulders sagging with defeat: "Sometimes, I just...need to...you know, just...take something to...to get through a shift, that's all. I just...I need it, I...I..."

"You need it," John repeated, remembering himself saying those words to his coworkers - to his friends - not so long ago. And as desperately as he wanted to believe Dave, his rationality and fear for Dave's being could not do that.

"Yeah," Dave replied, reaching for the pills once more, but John took yet another step back. This time, Dave did not relent, reaching for the pills once more, missing and grabbing John's wrist instead. "John, I need those pills. Please, give them to me."

"I can't do that, Dave," John said, maneuvering himself and Dave at the same time back towards the toilet. If he could flush them down the toilet, then it would be one less thing to worry about; he knew he'd have a hard time getting Dave to the hospital, he didn't need to worry about the younger man getting to the pills in the meantime. But he wouldn't be able to get the pills in the toilet unless Dave let go of his wrist - the younger man easily overpowered him. "Dave, let go."

"No, not until you give me the bottle," Dave said, as he reached for it with his free hand, but John grabbed the pill bottle with his own free hand and quickly it towards the open toilet. "No!"

"Dave, let go!"

They were wrestling now, John's other wrist clasped in Dave's hand as well, one arm twisted up in the air. Dave let go of John's empty hand, making a move for the pills again, but John used his now free hand to push the younger man away. He fell into the sink, the counter painfully hitting the base of his back, but he had still been holding onto John's wrist, so the older man went with him.

"*You* let go!"

"No, I can't do that, Dave. You need help..."

"Help?!"

"Yes! You need help," John repeated desperately, staring Dave straight in the eyes. "You're an addict, Dave."

Then they switched places, John against the counter and Dave standing flush to him, John holding onto Dave's free hand, the Junior Resident's other hand grasped firmly around John's, which was holding the bottle of pills. John could see the look of desperation in Dave's eyes, a look he had seen in his own reflection a few weeks before his trip to rehab in Atlanta.

"What?" Dave said, and John could almost see the word running around through Dave's head. "I'm not...I'm not an addict. I just..."

"Then prove it, Dave," John suddenly challenge, interrupting him. "Prove it, and let me go." Dave stopped his struggle suddenly, but he wouldn't look at John. "Prove it, Dave...come on, prove me wrong, I want you to. Please, prove me wrong."

Dave's breathing was heavy and erratic, sweat pouring off of him as his gaze shifted from John's hand to John's eyes. Slowly, he released his viselike grip from John's wrist and took a step back, looking as if he wanted to say so much, but all he ended up saying was: "See?"

John let out a breath that must've started at his toes, saying, "Good...now let's go talk about what we need to do."

"What?" Dave asked, his expression showing his puzzlement. "What we need to do? What do you mean?"

"Dave, you need help," John said, his tone suggesting his urgency. "You're abusing addictive medications...several medications. We need to work out how we're going to deal with this."

Dave's posture stiffened slightly, and John immediately knew that it wasn't going to be that easy. "Hey! Don't project your fucking problems on me! *You're* the addict! Hell, I just proved to you that I was okay," Dave said, his voice shaking with anger. "So just give me the fucking bottle and shut up!"

"Okay...fine," John said calmly, holding up his hands in surrender. "But...if you're okay then you don't mind if I dump the pills, right?"

"No!" Dave said, as if the notion were incredulous. "You said all I had to do was let go, and I did! So - I - just - give me the fucking pills!" Dave yelled, his face contorted with anger as he grabbed John, who was terrified now, because he wasn't sure what Dave might do if he didn't get the pills.

That's when he found out.

In an instant, John was shoved roughly into the wall and hit seemingly at the same time, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. He slid to the floor, his eyes closed and his now empty hands shielding himself in case of another blow. When none came and all he heard was complete silence, John opened his eyes and could see Dave picking up the pills that John had thrown at him moments earlier. In shock, unable to move or speak, John just sat there on the floor, leaning against the wall behind him, watching his lover crawl across the floor, mumbling to himself words that were unintelligible or inaudible to John. He watched as Dave slowly stood, stumbling slightly as he reached into the now full bottle and pulled out several pills, only hesitating slightly before he popped them into his mouth before closing his eyes and dropping his head forward. Suddenly, Dave's eyes opened, and he turned to face his lover, the younger man's expression showing his horror at what he had just done.

"Oh my God," he whispered, tears forming at his eyes as he looked away.

"Dave..." John started, but the younger man suddenly bolted out of the bathroom. "Dave!!" John scrambled to his feet and fled from the bathroom as well, but Dave was fast and was already out the door by the time John got into the living room. The door slammed shut, and then John heard the key turning in the door. "No, no, no, no, no!!" John yelled, knowing that the bottom lock on the door was a regular one, but the one above it was one that you had to have a key to open from either the outside *or* the inside. "Shit!" he yelled, after reaching the door and finding it already too late.

By the time he had gotten his keys from his dresser, all the way in the bedroom, Dave was already gone. John could not see him on the sidewalks near their apartment building, nor could he find him when he got into his Jeep and drove around the block. After several moments of this, he decided to call Abby, who was working that night.

"He hasn't come here," she'd reported, the curiosity in her tone apparent. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," he'd replied. "Just...call me if he comes by, okay?"

He'd almost hung up immediately afterwards, just staying on long enough to exchange goodbyes. Where the hell could Dave have gone, he'd wondered at the time. He'd checked the local bars and even The Game Room, Dave's favorite, but even in Dave's current state of mind, he knew the younger man wouldn't be dumb enough to go there, since it was the first place John would look. After going to several bars, he'd finally found one that Dave had been to - too bad he had just missed him by about twenty minutes, the bartender had stated, deflating John's hope instantaneously.

"Was he drinking?" John asked urgently.

"Shit, yeah!" the bartender answered. "I don't think this was the first bar he visited either, because that guy was fucked up."

John left the bar feeling totally helpless; Dave was drinking, and had taken a handful of pills. God only knew was state he was in. Now, sitting in his car in the bar's parking lot, John had tried to think of where Dave would go to next. He didn't have many friends here, just hockey buddies - but it wasn't as if he would be hanging around them anymore, since the attack. Then it hit him, like a ton of bricks or some other bad metaphor...Dave could be heading for Luka's. And as much as he hated that idea, when he'd gotten there, he was surprisingly unalleviated to find out that Dave hadn't been there. At least if he had, John would've found him and would've been able to get him to a hospital.

He didn't realize how bad his timing had been. Only moments later, that phone call from Luka reporting that Dave was there now, and then, just as suddenly, he was gone. Gone. Just like that. And John was currently stuck in his car, glad that it had stopped raining so at least he could see better as he was driving back home, hoping that maybe Dave was there now, even if he wasn't picking up the phone. He kept calling, though, leaving messages, practically begging for Dave to pick up the phone. When he'd reached the apartment and stepped inside, he'd given up by then, deciding that maybe just waiting there for a while might be the best thing. Dave would come back, he had to. John didn't know what else to hope for.

He began to stick his key in the door when the slight contact pushed it open. Why would his door be unlocked and left ajar? Maybe Dave *was* home! With newfound optimism, John pushed open the door with a flourish, turning on the light beside it and stepping inside the apartment, calling out his lover's name.

"Oh my God..."

He forgot to breathe. His heart forgot to beat. Time forgot to carry on. Because there, lying on the floor of the living room, curled up in a fetal position, lay Dave Malucci, soaking wet and not moving - not breathing. God...oh, God...

What the *fuck* had he been thinking?

-------------------------------------

Her tears mark every time

That I swept the pain aside

Too much to withstand

-------------------------------------

"He was fine today," Abby Lockhart said, her voice thick with emotion. "We went out to lunch at Doc's. We talked and joked around, like always. He smiled, he laughed, he was happy...at least I thought he was happy..."

Cook County General had received the call-in from the paramedics about seven minutes ago. They were bringing in an overdose, and at first, Abby Lockhart - who had been the one to take the call at admin - hadn't thought anything of it. But then they'd told her who exactly *was* overdosing: Dave. Her friend Dave. Dave, who she'd gone to lunch with today. Dave, who had hit on her several times today, jokingly, of course, because he was hopelessly in love with John. Dave, who had laughed today. Dave, who had smiled today. Dave, who was fine today, but obviously wasn't, because he was overdosing - dying - and the paramedics were bringing him in.

The young nurse had immediately run to Dr. Weaver, who had been taking her break in the Lounge. The only thing she could do at first was tell the older woman that the paramedics were bringing in an overdose, ETA ten minutes. But her tone had suggested that it was much more complicated than that.

"What's wrong?" Kerry had asked, searching Abby's eyes, which were brimming with tears. The younger woman opened her mouth to say something, but no words came, only heavy breathing coupled with a terrified frozen expression. The Chief of the ED approached the nurse tentatively then, asking quietly: "Abby, what's wrong?"

"It's...it's..." She seemed as if she were about to burst into tears, and Kerry was already afraid before she even knew what was really going on. But she knew whatever news the younger woman was about to deliver she wasn't going to like at all. Then, finally: "It's Dave. They're bringing in Dave."

There was a long pause, wherein neither of them made a move. Kerry seemed as if she were frozen in place, but Abby could see the fear building in her eyes, a fear that was reflected in her own. The nurse was about to say something - anything - to snap the woman out of her trance when the Chief looked away, taking in a deep breath, backing up a bit, leaning heavily on her crutch, one hand moving to her forehead and rubbing it slightly.

"Okay," was the first thing Kerry said, and Abby wasn't sure if it was only because she didn't' know what else to say. "Um...then...okay. Let's go prep a trauma room, and..." She looked up, trying to get her thoughts to process coherently. "Who else knows?"

"I don't know," Abby replied. "I took the call."

"Then...let's not let anyone know who doesn't have to," Kerry replied, her thought processes slower than usual. Instantaneously, she felt everything from the Valentine's Day attack two years ago come rushing back, and while the injuries were different, the outcome could still be the same. And she prayed that Dave survived, and didn't meet the same fate as Lucy Knight. "Let's keep the rumors to a minimum," Kerry had then said, if only to break herself from her thoughts. "I don't want to make things worse."

It had been too late, they'd soon discovered after hearing the buzz of the Rumor Mill in full action. Apparently, someone else had overheard the call, and it was all over the ER within moments. The mood afterwards had been surprisingly solemn - despite some mixed feelings about Dave, it seemed that the staff mostly favored him, even if they did give him a hard time occasionally. Many doctors and nurses inside were standing around in shocked silence, waiting to see for themselves if this was really true about their own Junior Resident, or if a horrible mistake had been made.

All were hoping for the latter.

Now, Abby Lockhart and Kerry Weaver were outside in the ambulance bay, the cold biting at their skin but both not really noticing. The former was babbling, something she often did when she was nervous and scared. The latter was listening, staying silent, something *she* often did when she was nervous and scared.

"Sometimes these things just happen," Dr. Weaver tried to explain, tried to reassure, but she knew that nothing could do that in this situation.

"But *how* did it happen?" Abby persisted, as they began to hear the siren of the approaching ambulance. "How did we miss this? How did *I* miss this?? All the signs were there, Dr. Weaver. He had mood swings, and he was edgy and hypersensitive, and...God, how did I *miss* this?? Dave is my best friend, and I missed this."

Dr. Weaver didn't know how to reply to that, and it was only because she herself was asking those same questions. She'd promised herself after John had become addicted to painkillers last year that she would never allow something like that to happen again. But here she was, awaiting an ambulance that one of her own doctors was dying in, maybe already dead - God, she didn't even want to think of that, though she knew it was a possibility, only proven so by the crash cart charging in the trauma room.

Moments later, the ambulance pulled into the lot. Abby could feel her heart beating in her chest, as if it were trying to get free, and she took a deep breath to settle her nerves as the rig backed up carefully near the ambulance bay doors. The two ER staffers moved to the back of the ambulance, Abby knocking impatiently on the doors before they opened, and a rush of chaos hit her all at once like a strong gust of wind.

John glanced up from Dave, who he was bagging at the moment, and he looked terrified to say the least. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but no words came from him, only a look in his eyes that told Abby nothing and everything all at the same time. Then, finally, he managed to say: "It was him...he's the one that's been stealing the pills...it was him...it was him..."

The paramedic jumped in at that moment, after realizing that this usually competent doctor was not going to help with the bullet. "Twenty-eight-year-old male, found in his apartment unconscious and not breathing. We tried to intubate, but couldn't get an airway, even when we tried an NG tube, so we're still just bagging."

"Was he conscious at any time?" Dr. Weaver asked, desperately trying to stay in doctor-mode, though she was having a difficult time doing so every time she looked at Dave's face, the ambu bag over his mouth, his nose bloodied from the attempted NG tube. The younger man was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head and his clothes clinging to his body. "And let's get him out of these wet clothes! He doesn't need hypothermia too."

"He regained consciousness in the rig about five minutes ago," the paramedic reported as they rushed hurriedly from the cold outside and into the warm ER, Kerry immediately having to bark at the staff to stop gaping and get back to work. "But then he threw up and just went out again."

"Damn it," Kerry said, knowing their chances of a more successful trauma were better when the patient was conscious and alert, but at least Dave had gotten some of whatever he'd taken out of his system. "I want a tox screen and two units warm saline, wide-open. And get a foley in, too. Let's move him on my count. One, two - "

"Wait!" the paramedic said suddenly, moving to Dave's wrists. "Get the restraints off him first, or you'll take the whole gurney with him."

"Why the hell is he restrained??" Abby asked incredulously, glancing up with surprise.

"I told them not to, but they wouldn't listen to me," John said, who was trying to help but he couldn't seem to make himself do what he wanted to. He kept fumbling and shaking, unable to get anything right, and he was beginning to get frustrated. Dave was dying, and the only thing he could do without getting in the way was bag him.

"He was combative," the paramedic challenged. "We had to, he knocked out his IV and he even tried to hit me."

John remembered inside of the ambulance after they had taken Dave on the gurney. About five minutes into the ride, the younger man had opened his eyes, his expression showing his terror. John had immediately tried to reassure him, grasping his hand and telling him that he was going to be okay, but Dave wasn't listening and couldn't breathe, and his brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. He'd began to become combative, his arms flailing as his body tried to "fight" to get oxygen, and it had taken John and another EMT to get him to stay still. Afterwards, the EMT had begun to put restraints on his wrists, insisting that it was the only way. John, however, seeing the pure childlike fear in Dave's eyes, had begged them not to, had begged Dave to calm down, but they wouldn't listen, no one would listen...

"Abby, cut off these clothes," Kerry ordered, after they got Dave out of the restraints and onto the exam bed, the younger man's wrists visibly bruised as he'd obviously tried to break free when he was conscious. Abby immediately leapt into action, cutting away at Dave's shirt first. John watched, knowing that it had to be done and unable to stop it this time. God, they'd see everything, see all of Dave's scars and secrets. "John," Kerry said softly, breaking him from his thoughts. He glanced up at her, seeing the look in her eyes, knowing that she knew the same thing he was thinking. She suddenly broke eye contact then, saying: "Stop bagging so quickly."

"Oh my God..." Abby said, pushing away Dave's clothes, her eyes traveling over the several prominent scars. She glanced up at John instinctively, knowing that he must've seen them by now, but he only offered her a desperate look, silently asking her not to ask him. Glancing at Dr. Weaver next, Abby could see that she too, had somehow known about this, so she diverted her eyes from both of them, concentrating on getting Dave's wet jeans off and keeping her eyes away from the scars.

"Move, Carter," Kerry said then, rolling the intubation tray with her to the head of the gurney. John stepped aside, resuming the compressions that Kerry had previously been administering. Within moments, Dave was intubated and hooked to the ventilator, John setting the controls just to keep himself from going crazy. God knew how long the younger man had been passed out on the floor of their living room, and He also only knew what irrevocable damage could've been done because of it. "Tox screen's back," Kerry reported, glancing at the sheet a lab tech had just delivered. "Oh my God..."

"What?" Abby was the first to ask.

"He tested positive for almost everything we have in that supply closet," Kerry said shakily, noting the different drugs: antidepressants, depressants, and even some painkillers. God...it had been worse than she thought, worse than she could ever imagine. Suddenly, as if on cue, monitors began to blare, and Dave began to seize, startling all three ER staffers into action. "God *damn* it! Carter, protect his airway!"

The Chief Resident removed the ventilator, holding the ET tube so that it wouldn't get dislodged as Kerry administered Ativan to control the convulsions. He studied his lover's face, closed eyes he might never see open again, lips slightly blue from the lack of oxygen he might never see smile again. He couldn't imagine his life without Dave by his side, living it with him. He couldn't imagine never hearing Dave's voice again, never feeling another passing kiss, never seeing another stolen glance, never holding Dave ever again. He just couldn't imagine Dave...gone. God...dear God...

He never knew tears could sting so much.

-------------------------------------

When the rain is coming

She will face it all

It's all on me, all over

And when it's overflowing

Can she break her fall?

Until I deal, I can't move on

-------------------------------------

"Excuse me," Randi heard, and glanced up from the computer to see a pretty woman probably in her fifties looking back at her with the sort of desperation in her clear brown eyes that the young desk clerk saw a lot in the ER. "I'm looking for Dr. Carter."

"Uh...he's not on right now," Randi replied, glancing back down at the computer, knowing that Carter was, in fact, here - as did everyone else on the nightshift tonight. And she knew exactly what had gone on about an hour ago, though the reasons for it varied, depending on whom you talked to. Randi, personally, figured that Dave had probably cracked - it had only been a matter of time really. "Come back at ten, I think that's when his shift starts."

"No, he worked on my son today," the woman persisted, her voice shaking.

"Yeah," Randi snapped, getting a little peeved right now. She was trying to figure out where Dr. Finch's films had been sent, because they'd been misplaced a while ago, and the young doctor had been harping on her since, as if the whole thing was *her* fault. Um, did she *look* like the radiologist?? "Look," she continued. "Dr. Carter isn't on right now, I don't know what else to tell you."

"They said he was here," she declared, her voice taking on an even more urgent tone than before. She glanced around the ER, as if that alone would help her find who she was looking for. "He was working on my son! They...the nurse on the phone said that my son had overdosed."

"Wait..." Randi said quietly, glancing up from the computer once more with narrowed eyes, really taking a look at the woman for the first time since she'd arrived. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," the woman replied. "But it's Rhonda. Rhonda Malucci."

-------------------------------------

Rain

Coming to vent

All she hides

Unable to move

Though we try

-------------------------------------

Her shift had ended a half hour ago, but Abby remained in the ambulance bay, sitting on a nearby bench, her coat wrapped tightly around her, one hand stuffed in her pocket, the other holding a cigarette between her forefingers. She took another long drag off of it before flicking away the excess ash, watching it burn out on the wet pavement beneath her feet. She sniffled, using the back of her hand to wipe away any evidence of previous tears, taking in a shaky breath once she was finished. She began to move the cigarette to her lips to take another drag when she stopped, pausing briefly before throwing it to the ground; tonight's events had taken the comfort out of smoking totally, so much so that she was pretty sure if she wanted to, she would never smoke another one again.

"Hey," she heard then, glancing up to see Luka standing before her, wearing sweats and a tee shirt underneath an open, long coat. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, go ahead," she said, shaking her head as he sat down next to her on the bench, close but not too close. She studied the quiet ambulance bay for a moment, trying to think of something to say, though she wasn't sure what. "I...I know you and Dave aren't close anymore, but I figured just...let you know...what happened...I hope you don't mind that I called you, and...I...I hope I didn't disturb you too much, I know it's late..."

"No, no, you didn't bother me. I'm glad you called," Luka said quietly, hardly able to conceive that when Dave had arrived on his doorstep just hours earlier, it would end like this. If only he'd gotten some sort of warning, if only he'd been perceptive enough to *see* some sort of warning. But he *had* seen the warning signs of an overdose, he'd just chosen to ignore them in the heat of the moment - a moment he could now see was false in its entirety. A sniffle broke him from his thoughts, and he turned to his companion to see her softly crying. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Abby said, wiping her eyes with her hands. She glanced up to the heavens, desperately trying to contain her emotions, though Luka could see that it was not working. She looked at him with a sheepish smile, waving away his concern. "I'm sorry...I just..." And now a choked sob as she lost her composure, the hot tears running down her cheeks freely. "God, I'm sorry, I just...how did this happen, Luka? How could we let this happen??"

"Shh..." Luka said as he wrapped an arm around her, bringing her close to him. He held her small, shaking body for a few moments as she cried openly into his chest, both wondering the same question that she couldn't seem to stop asking over and over again as she sobbed. Soon, she was quiet, but he still held her, and she still grasped at his tee shirt, and neither made an attempt to move. "Do you have a ride home?" he asked softly.

"I took the El today," Abby reported, after sniffling.

"Here, let me take you home," Luka said, standing and offering his hand to her. She began to protest, insisting that her house was across town and was out of Luka's way, but he immediately stopped her: "Don't worry about it, Abby. It's fine."

"Thank you, Luka," she said, giving in as they headed for his car arm in arm, a comforting feeling that she hadn't experienced in a while. She missed this, she suddenly realized, wondering if perhaps she might've even missed Luka a little too. For a while, she'd been sure the one she wanted was John, but since she'd found out that he was unavailable and pretty happy with Dave, she was beginning to wonder if maybe the one she *needed* had been right in front of her all along.

-------------------------------------

Her feet off of the ground

My will can bring them down

If I'd open my eyes

-------------------------------------

He had always expected someone who dressed in bright colors and eccentric styles, someone with short bleached hair and heavy makeup, someone just as crazy as her son. So when John Carter saw Rhonda Malucci for the first time, he was a little taken aback. She was pretty, petite and thin, dressed in a thick red sweater and blue jeans, wearing no makeup, and had dark hair with subtle blonde highlights tied back in a ponytail. And when he looked into her clear brown eyes, John could see Dave's own eyes reflected there and had to look away.

"How did this happen?" she suddenly asked, smoothing Dave's slightly damp hair off of his forehead, being careful not to touch and bother the ventilator. John wasn't sure whether or not she had been talking to him or herself, so he stayed silent before she looked up at him. "Do you know how this happened?" The only thing he could do was shake his head as he stood awkwardly next to Dave's ICU bed, Rhonda sitting in the visitor's chair. "I should've known what was going on..."

"No, Mrs. Malucci, this isn't your fault," John immediately said, but she cut him off before he could go any further.

"No! I should've known! Dave is my son," she said, her voice thick with emotion as tears brimmed at her eyes. "He calls me every Sunday, and we always talk, sometimes for hours. I should've seen this coming...but nothing seemed wrong, he sounded happy, as if his life was finally, *finally* making sense..."

"Mrs. Malucci, no one saw this coming," he said softly, trying to comfort her as best as he could. "Not even me, and I'm...and Dave's...I mean..."

"I know," she said, as silent tears began to stream down her face and drop onto the hospital bed. John remained quiet as he tried to figure out what she might mean, until she looked up at him, her eyes telling him everything without her having to say a word. "Dave talks about you all the time, John. He really loves you..."

"I'm so sorry," John said, his vision clouding through the tears that he desperately fought not to shed. Someone had to be strong here, because he knew if he broke down, Rhonda would too, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Dave's mother cry. "I'm so sorry I let this happen..."

She was quiet for a moment, before she grasped Dave's hand tightly in her own, and said: "You know...Dave always said that being a doctor was the only thing he was ever good at, but that isn't true...he's a good son...he's a good person...he was always such a good person, no matter how much he didn't think so...God, Dave, I'm so sorry..." She sat there for a moment, regaining her composure, wiping away the stolen tears as she watched her son. "When...when is he going to wake up?"

"He should be waking up soon."

"Should?"

"He will," John corrected firmly, hoping to God to let that be true. He didn't dare tell Rhonda that her son may wake up a very different person than before all of this. "He'll wake up soon. In the meantime, why don't you and I go across the street and get some coffee? It's very early in the morning, and I'm sure both of us could use it."

"I don't want to leave Dave..." she said softly, brushing her knuckles over her son's cheek.

"I'll have the ICU nurse page me the minute he wakes up," John said, hoping that maybe the both of them could calm down if they got away from this place for at least a few minutes. Perhaps once they came back, they would have a different outlook on the whole situation, a more hopeful one. "Come on, he'll be fine. Dave's strong, I think we both know that."

"Okay..." she reluctantly agreed, gently kissing her son on the forehead before standing. She took in a deep shaky breath, turning away before she began crying again, and left the room with John, someone she'd been hoping to meet for a while, but never ever like this. She'd been intending to stay the weekend at her son's new apartment for Christmas, and now she found herself praying to God she would still get that chance.

-------------------------------------

When the rain is coming

She will face it all

It's all on me, all over

And when it's overflowing

Can she break her fall?

Until I deal, I can't move on

-------------------------------------

His eyelids were heavy, but he forced himself to open them, and after a few tries, he could see that he was in a hospital room, though something was obstructing his view. He began to contemplate the fact that he might've fallen asleep in an exam room during his shift when he realized that the object hindering his view was a ventilator - he was on a ventilator. His eyes widened in fear and his heart quickened as he raised his hands to touch the tube jutting out of his throat, his wrists throbbing with the movement though he wasn't sure why, and within a few moments he discovered that he was in a gown and hooked up to a catheter too.

Oh, God. What the fuck had he done?

He frantically felt around the bed for the device that had that button on it, so he could press it and call the nurse, and when he finally located it, he wrapped his hand around it and pressed the red button several times in a row, hoping to get a faster response that way. In what felt like hours but had to be only a few minutes, the door opened, though he was afraid to move to see who it was. Soon, however, Dr. Kerry Weaver stood beside his bed, her expression showing her concern, her eyes watching him circumspectly.

"Dave," she said, his name curling into a question on her lips. "Dave, do you know what happened?" She could see the terror in his eyes, and she could see the tears there too, as he silently begged her to prove wrong what he knew had happened, but she could also see that he knew what he had done and what had almost happened. "Dave...you overdosed tonight..." Even though his eyes were now closed tightly, she could see tears slipping down his face and landing on the pillow beneath his head. She began to explain what had happened more specifically, because she had never seen Dave cry, and didn't know what else to do. "Carter found you this morning, you were unconscious and not breathing on the living room floor. An ambulance brought you in, and then Carter, Abby and I worked on you for about an hour. You were transferred up to the ICU as soon as we were finished..."

He suddenly began to tug at his ET tube, and she briefly wondered if it was to change the subject before she brushed his hands away from it, saying: "Dave, stop it. Let me check your lungs first before you hurt yourself. You should know how this goes by now." She unhooked him from the vent, doing the necessary procedures before concluding that he could breathe well enough on his own now. "Take a deep breath. Okay, now blow out hard."

The tube was snaked out of his throat, and he wasn't aware of how painful it would be until it happened, and all he was left with was a raw throat as he retched into an emesis basin, Kerry rubbing comforting circles on his back, asking him if he wanted some water though he declined. He glanced up at her once he was calmed down, wanting to say something or ask something, though he wasn't sure what.

"Is John here?" he finally decided on, his voice hoarse as he spoke.

"Yes," Kerry replied, though he wasn't sure how relieved that made him feel. "He's at Doc Magoo's with your mother."

He closed his eyes, an almost pained expression crossing his face. "You called my mother."

"John said you two were close," Kerry stated softly, watching her Junior Resident carefully, wondering why she hadn't been watching him carefully enough to stop this from happening. "He said that we should."

Dave nodded. "Is she upset?"

"We're all pretty upset," Kerry reported, and he glanced up at her in surprise, his brown eyes expressing his sorrow at the whole situation. He looked away quickly, playing with the edge of the bed sheet, taking a shaky breath, and she placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. "Dave, how did this happen? *Why* did this happen?"

He desperately tried not to cry again, willed himself not to, but the tears streamed down his face anyway, though he wiped away at them furiously. Finally, he gave up, placing his hands in his lap as he allowed himself to drop the fa�ade, looking up at Kerry with the saddest- and oldest-looking eyes she had ever seen.

"I hate my life," he finally said, smiling bitterly, shrugging as if that was all there was to it. "I mean, sure, I love my job, and my family and friends, but...I hate who I am. I mean...I know everyone here thinks I'm a fuck up, and I am...I think tonight proved that...but I do care and I do have feelings. I feel things...a lot of things, and most of them aren't pleasant. Do you know what it's like to hate who you are? It's...it's..." He didn't pursue the thought. "But when I took those pills, I could forget that one little fact, and everything was fine...but everything wasn't fine, because I've hurt so many people...Abby and Luka and...and John..." A choked sob escaped his lips, as he continued. "I'm sorry...I just wanted to forget, I never thought it would go this far...I never meant for it to get this far..."

He buried his head in his hands, his body shaking with sobs as he realized now what he had done to get this far: he'd hurt everyone he loved, including John, who he remembered hitting just tonight. God, John would never forgive him for that, he would leave him, and Dave would be alone. Face it, he thought to himself. You'll always be alone, because you're scarred and broken and no one wants damaged goods. He startled slightly as he felt his boss wrap her arms around him, and he found himself clutching at her lab coat as she smoothed his hair back, whispering soothing words to him as he cried.

"Dave, it's okay..." Dr. Weaver said, feeling tears stinging at her own eyes, and she was thankful that Dave could not see them since she was leaning close to him. She needed to be strong, for she was afraid if he saw her crying then he would only worsen. She smoothed his hair back again, cradling him comfortingly in her arms like a child. "Dave, shhhh, it's okay, it's okay. You'll be okay...I'll make sure you'll be okay...shhhh..."

Finally, he forced himself to calm down as he disengaged himself from her, scrubbing his face with his hands as he sat back against the hospital bed with a shaky breath, trying not to seem too embarrassed, though he certainly was. Who wouldn't be, after crying their eyes out in their boss's chest?

"Uh...don't...tell anyone that I lost it, and blubbered like a baby," Dave said with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes before continuing softly, "it's bad enough they think I'm a no good junkie who almost killed himself..."

"Dave, you're not a no good junkie and no one thinks that." He looked at her, his eyes still glistening, beseeching her for his request. "I won't tell anyone." There was a short silence where neither of them knew what to do or say before Kerry continued. "Do you want me to send in your mother now?" Kerry asked after a brief pause, and Dave nodded but didn't look at her. Then, quietly: "What about John?" He looked up at her in surprise, his eyes se arching hers, though she wasn't sure what he was looking for. He glanced back down after a moment, shaking his head, and she could tell he was trying not to cry again. "Okay," she said, giving his arm another gentle squeeze before turning to leave.

"Hey, Chief?" he said, and she turned back towards him expectantly. "Uh..." He managed a small smile then, though she could see how sad it was. "Thanks."

-------------------------------------

Can the sun break through the clouds?

To reveal what we've found?

-------------------------------------

They were rushing towards Dave's ICU room, being careful not to make too much noise as they walked briskly down the hallway of the quiet ward. John had gotten the page about five minutes ago in Doc Magoo's, barely taking thirty seconds to pay the bill before bolting out the door and into the ER, making sincere half-apologies as he carelessly made his way with Rhonda.

They were nearing Dave's hospital room now, and John caught sight of Kerry Weaver, who also caught sight of him - and stopped him before he could go any further. "John, wait..."

"I got a page," he said, trying to read her ever-impassive expression.

"Is something wrong?" Rhonda asked, worry creeping into her voice as she exchanged glances with both doctors. Her eyes suddenly worried as she clutched her purse closer to her. "Did something happen??"

"No, no," Kerry said reassuringly, shaking her head. She touched Rhonda's arm, leading her towards Dave's room, and John followed close behind, glancing inside the large window that supplied a complete view of the room since the blinds were open. Dave was lying on the hospital bed, and John could see that he was extubated, which had to be a good sign, though he wasn't sure why Kerry wanted him to wait. "You can go right inside, Rhonda."

"What's wrong?" John asked, once Dave's mother was out of earshot. Kerry glanced up at him silently, with dark eyes, and realization suddenly dawned as his face fell and lost all hope, his shoulders sagging with defeat. "Dave doesn't want to see me, does he?"

"John, it's understandable, after all that's happened," Kerry said, and John only nodded, turning to glance back into the exam room, where he could see Dave and his mother hugging tightly. He looked down and away, before glancing back up at Kerry, who was watching him with clear concern in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, quickly regaining his composure, hopefully before she could think about why he desperately wanted to see Dave. He offered a calm smile, watching her watch him. "You're right. He probably wants to spend time with his family, not his coworkers. I'm just glad he's all right."

"Me too," Kerry said, nodding slightly. "But we both know that you're more than a coworker," she said, and John blinked in surprise. "You're his roommate and his friend," she clarified, and he had to fight the urge to let out the breath he had been holding. She reached out and touched his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaving silently, heading back to the ER, where she always seemed to be working. She suddenly turned back to him, with a genuine smile, saying: "You did a good job tonight, Carter."

"You too," he said, before she walked off. He glanced inside of the exam room window once more to see mother and son still clutching each other tightly, and he almost immediately turned away, feeling as if he would be invading their privacy should he watch. He sat down in a chair in the hallway, resting his elbows on his knees and running his fingers through his hair before hanging his head.

Rhonda Malucci was a very nice woman. She had a sardonic sense of humor not unlike Dave's, which she displayed several times as she and John had shared a cup of coffee at Doc's while waiting for her son to regain consciousness. She'd told him several things about Dave that John hadn't known, such as some childhood experiences, where he went to college, what exactly he got on his MCATS - something John had been bugging Dave about since Thanksgiving a few years ago, after he'd discovered the younger man had gone to medical school in Grenada, and contrary to what Dave had alluded to they weren't that bad. Sure, they weren't great, but they weren't that bad, either. As usual, Dave was being really hard on himself.

He'd found out some things about her as well, like she had divorced Dave's father when Dave was very young, though she kept the last name because her own was simply horrid (one which she wouldn't tell him upon any circumstances). He'd learned that she was a physical therapist, part of the reason why Dave had wanted to become a doctor, and he'd also learned that she was the reason Dave had come to Chicago - he'd lived with his father until he was 16 years old. Earlier, John had asked why Dave had lived with his father and not her when they'd gotten divorced, and she'd replied that Dave had had many friends and family members in New York, and her new job in Chicago offered no one they knew nearby. When John had asked why Dave had finally decided to move, she'd only shrugged with one of the saddest smiles he'd ever seen, and had said: "It was just time."

He'd let that answer roll around in his head for a minute, but had decided not to give it too much thought. Perhaps one day he would find out just what she meant. Sighing now, he wished he could be open with his own mother about Dave and their relationship, but he doubted he would ever be able to do that. Dave's mother was understanding and loved Dave for who he was, no matter what that may be. John's mother, on the other hand, had always tried to shape John to who she wanted him to be, which was who she envisioned Bobby would have grown up to be had he lived. But after several failed attempts with John, he was almost sure she'd given up on him. Maybe she had.

-------------------------------------

When the rain is coming

She will face it all

It's all on me, all over

And when it's overflowing

Can she break her fall?

Until I deal, I can't move on

-------------------------------------

"You don't have to stay," Dave said to his mother, who was sitting down in the visitor's chair next to him, in his dimly lit ICU room. It'd taken him a while to calm her down and reassure her that he was okay - not to mention reassure her that it wasn't her fault, which was the last thing he wanted her to think. That had taken a lot of convincing words and maybe even some white lies, though he still wasn't sure just how she felt. If there was one thing his mother was, it was stubborn; she almost kept up as much of a fa�ade as he did.

"I know," she simply replied, nodding. Her eyes were still puffy from crying, and he felt guilty for letting it get this far. He felt as if he should apologize again, though every time he had she told him not to. He'd finally stopped after she'd told him quite bluntly to shut up, in that not-serious-but-serious way of hers. Silence stretched out between them once more, and it almost grew uncomfortable until she said: "John is a very nice man."

"Yeah, he is," Dave said quietly, unable to meet her gaze. He felt tears stinging at his eyes, and he abashedly wiped them away before they could fall. "It's too bad I ruined everything..."

"Dave, you didn't ruin anything..."

"Yes, I did, Ma..." Dave said, barely able to repress a sob. "I ruined it like I ruin everything..."

"Honey, John really cares about you," she stated, trying to calm him, knowing Dave thought he had ruined everything when he'd hit John for the pills. Finally, he nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to stop crying. "Dave, he told me what happened. He knows it isn't your fault, you just have to talk to him." He shook his head then, still unwilling or unable to look at her. "Dave - " She tried to take his hand in hers, but he pulled away, and Rhonda sighed heavily, standing. "Well, if you're going to act like that, I'm going to take a bathroom break."

She glanced back at her son, who seemed so small and fragile in the hospital bed, she could almost imagine him breaking in two. God, she thought as she crossed the small room to the door. How had he gotten this lost? Most of all, how had she missed it? How had she allowed this to happen? She knew Dave had told her this wasn't her fault, had tried his best to convince her, but she just couldn't believe him. She should've been able to see something was wrong, but he put up almost as good of a fa�ade as she did.

Rhonda exited the hospital room, closing the door behind her, silently thanking God for the trillionth time that night that her son was alive and okay. She began to move towards the nurse's station to ask where the ladies room was when she saw John Carter slumped in a chair, his head bowed in his hands. Ignoring her bladder, she sat down next to him, studying him for a moment until he sensed her there and glanced up, slightly startled.

She nodded towards Dave's hospital room. "You should go in there."

Her suggestion seemed to startle John even more. "Dave doesn't want to talk to me."

"He *needs* to talk to you, John," she stated, the desperation flickering in her clear brown eyes. She squeezed his arm reassuringly, before standing. "Please, just go in there. Make him know that everything's going to be all right. Otherwise, I don't think he *will* be all right."

He watched her walk to the nurse's station, probably inquiring where the bathrooms were located, and John sighed before standing as well, crossing the hallway to the ICU room, steeling himself before turning the knob and pushing it open. Here goes everything, he thought, stepping inside the quiet dark room.

"That was quick," Dave said, his voice still slightly hoarse from the ET tube. He turned to face John, seemed embarrassed, and then looked down at his hands, playing with the bed sheet. "Sorry...I thought you were my mother..."

John paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, and when Dave looked up at him once more with those brown eyes that John loved, it all came rushing out, his words tripping over one another awkwardly. "I'm so sorry, Dave, that I let this happen...I...I'm sorry. God, you...you scared me when...when I found you on the living room floor...I was more scared than I'd ever been in my whole life, more scared than when I got stabbed and thought I was going to die, so I had to see you, even though I know you don't want to see me...I just had to see if you were all right...I needed to see for myself...I...I'll leave if you want, but I really hope you want me here because I really want to be here...I - I can just sit here, we don't have to talk...I just want to be here...with you."

Dave didn't reply for several moments, but instead seemed to be avoiding all contact with John. And, since he didn't say to leave, John took his silence as an invitation to stay, so he sat down in the visitor's chair, and watched Dave. The younger man's brow was furrowed in deep thought, and he remained silent for several moments more, until then, finally, softly, his voice wrenched with regret, Dave said: "Do you still love me, John?"

At first, John was so shocked he didn't know how to reply, and he sat there in silence, his expression showing his surprise. Upon hearing no reply, Dave looked up at him, his eyes portraying his fear at what the answer could be. And John didn't want Dave to be afraid, or hurt, or anything; he wasn't going to let that happen.

"My God, Dave..." he said, looking straight into the younger man's eyes. "Yes, I do...of course I do."

Dave suddenly winced and looked away. "How could you still love me, after...after I yelled at you and hit you and...hurt you? I hurt you, John...and yet you're still here..."

"Dave," John said. He took the younger man's hand in his, feeling Dave flinch although he ignored it. "Dave, I know what you did tonight wasn't your fault...you need help, and I'm going to get you that help, and I'm going to be there every step of the way, because I love you, and...and I'm not going to let this stop me from being with you."

Dave glanced up, the pure sorrow and desperation in his eyes breaking John's heart. Ever so gently, he reached out and traced the older man's bruised jaw with the tips of his fingers. "My mother loved my father..."

"Your mother divorced your father," John said, and the younger man didn't seem surprised that he knew this bit of information, even though Dave had never said as such. "Your mother knew a lost cause when she saw one."

They made eye contact.

"Do you?" Dave asked, so quietly John almost didn't hear him.

"Yes," he whispered in reply, his voice thick with emotion. "Yes, I do, and you are not a lost cause, Dave. You are *not* your father, no matter how much you think you are. I know you aren't, Dave, because I know *you*...I know you and I love you, and I will love you no matter how many times you yell at me or hit me or hurt me." He leaned down and kissed Dave gently on the lips, but Dave pulled away, trying not to let John see him crying again, fearing if he kissed John it would be obvious. "Hey...come on, Dave, stop crying. Everything's going to be okay."

"Today's a pretty emotional day for me, I think," Dave stated, wiping away his tears, and John was at least reassured to see a small smile on his lips. John moved his hand to cup the side of Dave's face, and the younger man looked up at him with glistening eyes as John leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the Junior Resident's lips. They remained like that for several seconds until Dave suddenly pulled away. "John..."

"What?" John asked, but Dave wasn't looking at him. John turned in his chair, following Dave's line of vision to see what exactly the younger man was looking at: Eleanor Carter, John's own mother, watching through the exam room window, her eyes narrow and her jaw clenched. God, what the hell was she doing here?? "Shit..."

"Tell her it was my fault," Dave immediately said, though John didn't seem to be listening to him as he stood to go speak with his mother. He grabbed John's sleeve, and the older man looked at him with panic. "John, tell her it was my fault," he repeated firmly.

Without answering Dave, he left the room in a hurry, closing the door behind him hastily as he moved to his mother. She turned to face him, her expression cold and hard as she stood there in a fur-collared coat, her arms crossed over her chest, almost daring for him to try to explain. He hoped that he could.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing he could think of saying, hoping to buy more time to come up with a viable excuse. He contemplated telling her that it *was* Dave's fault, that perhaps he was a close friend who had just overdosed and was very emotional, but for some reason, he found himself unable to do that. He didn't have time to wonder why.

"I've been here all night trying to find you," she stated coldly.

"Mom..." he started, but she promptly cut him off, her voice raising a notch.

"I tried reaching you several times, but you were never home," she continued, her eyes glaring daggers at him, pinning him to the wall. "When I found out that you were here, they told me you were busy."

"I *was* busy..."

"I can see that."

"It's not like that..."

"Is he that man from the party? And the one you moved in with?" she asked, glancing at Dave through the exam room window before looking back to her son. "I knew I recognized him." She then made a sound of disgust. "If you're going to do this, John, you could at least do it with someone of your own...stature, not some Chicago scum that you work with."

"He's not that bad..." John tried to explain, tried to find something to say to make his mother believe in what he was involved with, but the words wouldn't come to him.

"Of course not John," she spat. "He doesn't seem that bad to *you*, because he's manipulating you. You allowed yourself to be pulled into this, but is it the way you really feel?" He was about to reply when she went on, snapping sarcastically: "Oh, don't tell me. What? Do you *love* him?"

"Maybe I do!" he retorted in response, his brow furrowed in anger. "You just have to listen to me - "

"No! You listen to *me*, John," she said, shoving a pointed finger into his chest. "How long do you honestly think this is going to last? I already know the answer to that: until your money runs out or until you stop giving it to him. And when he leaves you, what are you going to do? Run back to your family? Guess what? I won't be there for you. None of us will, we will all be gone."

"As if you ever have," John retorted, feeling his own voice raise a notch.

"Have what?" Eleanor asked, slightly confused.

"Been there for me!" John yelled.

"Oh here we go again." She rolled her eyes, mocking him. "Poor neglected John..."

Knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to have this fight, John quickly changed the subject. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? Since when do you come to visit me at work?"

"I needed your help with a child at the leukemia center," Eleanor said. "He's waiting downstairs for a bed. I was hoping that you could help me find him a private room, but you're obviously still busy," - another distasteful glance at Dave - "so I'll leave you alone with your..."

"Don't," John warned, and his mother only offered a cold, hard smile before she turned and walked away from him, heading towards the elevators. The doors dinged open, but she didn't even look at him before she stepped inside the elevator car. And the only thing he could think about was that if she hadn't already given up on him, she just had right now.

-------------------------------------

And when the rain is coming

When it's overflowing

-------------------------------------

One week had passed since Dave had tried to swallow a drugstore and get away with it. Dr. Weaver had allowed him to be discharged today, against John's will. But she'd reminded the Chief Resident that overdoses *were* usually released within a few days, and he was lucky she'd allowed Dave to stay for seven days. He just wanted to be sure that everything was all right and that Dave was healthy, which she continually assured him that he was. So, now, the two were driving home, in silence. The silence was what unnerved John the most.

He glanced at his lover, who was staring out the window in deep thought; Dave had remained quiet for most of the trip home, and most of his time spent in the hospital since his near-overdose. The only time he'd spoken was when coaxed into conversation by visitors - which mostly consisted of his mother, John and Abby, with the occasional ER doctor dropping by to say hello and get well soon. It was during those visits from the other ER staff, that Dave became noticeably uncomfortable. And although those who didn't know him so well thought that he was being himself, John could tell by the look in Dave's eyes that he died a little more every time one of his coworkers came to see him. It was at this time, the fourth day, he'd asked them to stop coming. It was an order that had been reinforced by Dr. Weaver once he'd insisted on it, and while their coworkers hadn't understood, he didn't care. This was Dave's well being, and where that was concerned, John was less than considerate towards other's egos.

He could understand that Dave was probably a little nervous about going home, about living his life in general - John had felt the same way when he'd left rehab in Atlanta to come back home to Chicago. But he wasn't going to let Dave feel that way, he was going to let Dave know that everything was going to be okay, and no one was going to think any less of him because of his addiction, they'd just be glad that he was alive and healthy. John knew this, he'd lived through it, and he'd survived. Dave was strong, and he would survive too.

"Mrs. Caruso's been asking about you," John said, referring to their elderly Italian neighbor, who loved John and Dave to death since they moved in. "I told her you were in the hospital, and she made you a get well lasagna from scratch. I know I should've waited to try it until you got home, but I couldn't resist, it looked too good. I only had a little though, and it tastes great. I could heat it up for you when you get home, and you could...Dave?"

"Yeah?"

John sighed, wondering if the younger man had been listening to him at all. "Would you like me to heat up the lasagna Mrs. Caruso made for you? You haven't eaten much in a few days..."

"No," Dave said, shaking his head before he leaned it against the window next to him. "I think I'm just going to go to bed if that's okay."

Within minutes they were home, John unlocking the door to their apartment and allowing Dave to step inside first, only seeing then how tired he appeared. The younger man took in a shaky breath before heading towards the bedroom, while John heated up the lasagna in the oven anyway, just in case Dave changed his mind or got hungry later. He decided to nibble on a little, but his appetite seemed to be gone as well; all he could think about was Dave and how sad he was.

Sad. Dave was sad. It killed John to know this, because he wanted Dave to be happy; it was what the younger man deserved, after everything that he'd been through. And, all this time, John had been trying to do that, trying to make Dave happy, or at least as happy as possible. But perhaps what he had to offer wasn't enough...as much as John wanted to be the one to help Dave, he knew when he was in way over his head, and this was one of those situations. Sighing, he decided that the best thing for him to do was to talk to Dave's psychiatrist, the one that Kerry was making him see regularly, his first appointment being in about a week. Hopefully, that would help the younger man. If not, John didn't know what else to do. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that, that Dave wasn't that hopelessly depressed.

His breath suddenly caught and he almost dropped his dish, barely catching it before it slipped out of his hands. What if...what if Dave had done this on purpose? What if Dave's intent was to end his own life? John had seen the scars on Dave's wrists, had seen the way the younger man subconsciously caressed them sometimes. Dave had attempted suicide before, what made John think he wouldn't try it again? He'd lived though and John wasn't even sure that Dave had, in fact, tried to kill himself a week ago, he reminded himself, after feeling the fear gripping at his heart. But Dave was still so sad, what if he tried it again...what if this time he succeeded?

He suddenly needed to see Dave, needed to see him breathing and living and safe. Putting his dish into the sink, John moved into the hallway and soon found himself standing in the doorway of their bedroom, looking at Dave, who was lying fully clothed on the made bed, his shoes kicked off haphazardly on the floor. He couldn't imagine Dave sleeping anywhere else besides that bed, felt fear creeping up on him at the thought that he'd almost lost him, and was glad that he still had Dave. The Junior Resident could've easily died a few days ago, would've been gone, out of John's life forever. Well, John thought as he kicked off his own sneakers and moved into the room. He wasn't about to let that happen again. He would keep Dave safe and make sure that everything would be okay.

"Mind if I join you?" John asked, and Dave shrugged in that casual way that he did. He lay down on the bed, scooting close to Dave but not too close, not knowing exactly how to act with the younger man right now. They lay like that for a few moments, and though Dave was silent, John knew he wasn't sleeping just yet. Then, suddenly, the Junior Resident turned around, facing John and moving close to him, wrapping his arms around the older man and burying his face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his lover. John held him tightly back, a feeling of relief washing over him, though he wasn't sure why. "I think this is what I missed the most," John said, remembered the past few nights, when he had to sleep alone.

"Me too," Dave said softly, his voice slightly muffled while buried in John's chest. The older man kissed him on the forehead, and he heard Dave sigh with content. "I love it when you kiss me."

John smiled, only happy to oblige with another kiss as he held onto Dave with Dave holding on to him, and he hoped to never be anywhere else but here and now, with Dave alive and healthy in his arms, in this bed, together, forever. And while he knew that this was hardly reasonable and possible, he could still dream, and hoped to as he drifted off into peaceful sleep.

-------------------------------------

And when the pain is showing
When the rain is coming
Flowing down

-------------------------------------

-------------------------------
Chapter Fifteen: Bound to Be a While
-------------------------------

We got the afternoon

You've got this room for two

One thing that's left to do

Discover me discovering you

-------------------------------

"John." Someone was touching him, nudging him slightly, but it wasn't
going to work. "John..." Now the word was dragged out, almost sung,
and whoever had been touching him before was currently blowing gently
on his neck, tickling the fine hairs there. "John, you need to wake
up."

"Why?" he moaned in response, rolling over in bed and wrapping the
covers tightly around himself, burying his head in his pillow. "It's
Christmas Eve, my first day of vacation. Leave me alone."

Dave wasn't back to work yet, since the Chief had insisted on him
taking a month's hiatus to "take a break from it all," as she had put
it, while she decided what to do. At least she hadn't fired him, and
Dave was thankful for that - he wasn't sure what he would do if he
couldn't be a doctor. Sometimes when John was at work he would sit and
wonder about all the "what ifs." What if he couldn't be a doctor? Or
worse...what if he was a terrible doctor and he kept hurting people,
just like he'd killed that kid with Marfan's last fall? Sometimes the
fear was all so encompassing that he would start to shake. Once he
even threw up.

Until Dr. Weaver decided on what to do with Dave, he was to attend the
drug abuse outpatient program at County General, which he had been
going to every day since getting out of the hospital. He hated his
counseling sessions because he hated people butting into his business,
and he certainly couldn't talk about the things that really needed to
be talked about, especially private things that he couldn't even tell
John. So he usually ended up making small talk or making things up,
and he did what he always did: kept everything inside. And he hated
every minute of it. The introductory class, however, had been the
worst: eight hours stuck in that place, doing different exercises and
listening to different speakers.

"Can't do that," Dave said now, to John's previous request, smiling as
he watched him, whose hair was mussed and looked so damn cute right
now. "And two days off isn't exactly vacation."

"Why not?" John demanded to know as Dave dropped Kermit on him, hoping
the fat cat knocking the wind out of him would wake him up.

If not, then this announcement sure was: "My mom's coming over in
about an hour. She's staying the weekend."

"What?!" John asked, startling Kermit and causing him to scurry off to
his usual retreat underneath the bed. The Chief Resident sat up,
glaring at Dave with narrowed eyes, but the younger man seemed
unaffected by this. Or maybe he was, and the innocent smile was just a
cover for that, John added sarcastically. "Dave, why didn't you tell
me? The apartment's a mess!"

"I know," Dave replied, scooting off the bed. "I got up early and made
us breakfast, and then we can start cleaning. It shouldn't take that
long. Besides, my mother's always ten minutes late."

"I bet you told her to come at 11:50," John said grumpily, and Dave's
smile widened into a huge grin. "You didn't! Dave, I hate you!"

"You too," Dave said, blowing John a kiss before retreating quickly
from the room, the pillow narrowly missing his head as he closed the
door behind him.

Within a half hour, the two men had the apartment spick and span:
they'd vacuumed, dusted, washed the dishes, swept the floors, made the
beds, and even cleaned up the bathroom - something that always seemed
to be a mess. Fifteen minutes to spare wasn't a bad time, Dave thought
to himself, remembering when he'd cleaned his old apartment by himself
and how long it had taken, since he was a big procrastinator and
tended to digress from the task at hand several times. So now, after
quickly showering, the two men were getting dressed, John insisting on
wearing something nice while Dave threw on his regular jeans and a tee
shirt.

"Come on," John said, holding out the sweater to Dave. "Put it on. It
won't kill you."

"It *could*," Dave insisted, staring at the chunky blue turtleneck
sweater as if it were Death himself. "I'm not putting that on."

"I even let you open it early!" John said, indicating the gift-wrap
strewn about the bed. He'd been hoping that Dave would wear the
sweater he'd given him as an early Christmas present, but the younger
man would not budge. "It's not *that* bad. It's cute. And it'd look
damn cute on you. So put it on."

"No," Dave said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It looks like
something *you* would wear."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, but didn't get the chance
to receive a reply as the doorbell rung. He looked at Dave, tossing
the sweater at him. "You aren't leaving this room until you put that
on."

"My mom's here," Dave said, waving a hand at the door as he held the
sweater in his other. "She's waiting at the door."

"The faster you get it on the faster we answer the door," John said,
catching the glint in Dave's eye before the younger man hopped over
the bed and rushed to the door. He grabbed Dave around the waist,
pulling him away from the door and pushing him back on the bed,
straddling him between his legs and holding his arms down. "Put it
on."

"No."

"Put it on."

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Fine," John said with a sigh. He stood up, straightening out his
*nice* clothes, and stepped out of the bedroom, heading towards the
living room. He felt a knot in his stomach forming as he got closer to
the door, knowing this wasn't the first time he had met Dave's mother,
but somehow this felt more important. When they'd first met, the
circumstances had been different, and they'd both been worried sick
about Dave, too worried to even think about anything else. So, now, in
this relaxed environment, Rhonda would get to know him, so he had to
make a good impression. And this was making him sick with nerves.

Reaching the door, John glanced around the apartment once more, making
sure everything was in its proper place before he opened it, steeling
himself with a deep breath before doing so. "Hello, Mrs. Malucci." He
made sure to smile brightly.

"Oh, please stop calling me that," she said as he stepped aside to
allow her passage. She glanced around the apartment, admiring the
cleanliness and order of the place surrounding her, and then she
turned back to John, smiling with a grin that was not unlike Dave's.
"This place is very nice. You've even got a Christmas tree! Dave
hasn't had one in years. But the place is still missing something..."

"What?" John asked, glancing around the apartment as if that alone
would clue him in.

"My son," Rhonda replied, and then proceeded to call: "Dave! Where are
you? It's me - your mother?"

"I'm coming!" Dave soon appeared, adjusting the chunky blue sweater he
was uncomfortably wearing, and John found himself smiling widely,
knowing that Dave was wearing it for him. The younger man winked at
John before turning to his mother, hugging her tightly. "Hey, Ma. You
know, there's something different about you..." He stood back,
thinking theatrically. "I know what it is. You're even more beautiful
than when I last saw you."

"Oh, jeeze" she sighed with a roll of her eyes, swatting his chest
playfully, before grinning suddenly. "And look at *you*, so handsome
in that sweater! Finally learning how to dress yourself?"

John's smile widened as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching
Dave and his mother bicker lovingly. Yep, he thought to himself, as
they began to argue over the length of Dave's hair. He was definitely
going to enjoy this weekend.

-------------------------------

One mile to every inch of

Your skin like porcelain

One pair of candy lips and...

Your bubblegum tongue

-------------------------------

Several hours later, John and Dave were curled up on the couch, Dave's
mother in the kitchen, intent on making them Christmas dinner. Knowing
that today was Christmas Eve, John had soon discovered after some
inquiry that it was a tradition in the Malucci family to have the
proverbial Christmas dinner the day before, because neither Dave nor
his mother ever felt like being active on Christmas day. Leftovers
suited them just fine. The Malucci family sure did have a lot of
holiday traditions, but John thought that it was nice to know that
even though Dave had a terrible childhood, there were things that were
nice about it. The Carter family was, however, *not* into tradition -
just old money.

"Dave!" John felt the younger man startle slightly, who had his arms
wrapped around him as they watched a movie on television. "I thought I
asked you to go grocery shopping."

"I did!" Dave called back to his mother, who then appeared in the
doorway between the living room and the kitchen, looking at her son
skeptically. "I did! You can ask John. I'm not lying."

"Well in that case," Rhonda said, holding up a sheet of paper. "Then
you forgot practically everything on the list I gave you. Go to the
store and get me the rest of this stuff."

"It's Christmas Eve. Who the hell is going to be open?" Dave asked,
not budging from the couch. He was very comfortable right now
snuggling with John, his arms wrapped around the older man, watching
Ralfie almost getting his eye poked out on TV, and smelling the
wonderful aromas of his mother's cooking, thank-you-very-much. Rhonda
held up her fist threateningly, though Dave knew she would never hurt
him, and he glanced at John, grinning. "Think I can take her?"

"I'm stronger than I look," she declared. Dave sighed dramatically,
disentangling himself from John and moving to his mother, grabbing the
list. He glanced down at it, doing a double take and gaping. "Ma!
There's, like, five hundred things on this list! How do you expect me
to...? Oh, forget it. I'll be back in - what? Three, four days?"

"Good boy," Rhonda said, smiling as she patted her son's cheek before
moving back into the kitchen.

Dave approached the back of the couch, leaning over it and whispering
into John's ear: "Be careful if she asks you to have coffee with her."

"What?" the older man asked, alarmed.

"John?" Rhonda called from the kitchen. "Why don't you come in here
and lend me a hand?"

Dave grinned widely. "Good luck."

-------------------------------

And if you want love, we'll make it

Swim in a deep sea of blankets

I'll take all your big plans and break 'em

This is bound to be a while...

-------------------------------

Tentatively, John entered the kitchen, pausing in his path as he saw
the coffee maker bubbling away. Good to the last drop, John thought to
himself, before his eyes moved to Rhonda, who was currently stirring
vegetables in one of the several pots on the stove. She glanced up,
smiling brightly at him, and he smiled back, his stomach dropping to
his knees. He desperately wanted Dave's mother to like him, and from
what Dave had said early, she already did, though John didn't believe
him one bit. For some reason, even after spending quite a few hours
with her, he was still nervous as hell, mostly because he felt as if
she didn't like him at all. He couldn't help but feel that she blamed
him for the fragile state her son was in. Why shouldn't she? He blamed
himself.

"Can you do this for me while I check on the ham?" she asked, holding
out the wooden spoon to him. He nodded silently, taking it from her
and stirring the vegetables, pretending to know what he was doing.
Dave was trying to teach him how to cook - keyword: *trying* - but it
wasn't working out too well. He remembered the first time he'd
attempted to make something by himself:

Abby had been over, watching television with Dave, and John had been
cooking something that Dave had taught him weeks earlier. After the
two had been waiting in the living room for what seemed like hours,
both starving because John had advised them not to eat anything, he'd
finally called them in, revealing the lasagna that he'd been slaving
over for a few hours.

"This looks great!" Dave had said, sitting down before his plate, Abby
sitting across from him. John was standing rather impatiently to his
right, waiting for Dave to try it and tell him how it tasted. He'd
taken a forkful into his mouth, immediately smiling. "This tastes
great!" But once John's back had turned, he'd spit it right back out
and into his napkin, mouthing to Abby: Don't eat it! Do *not* eat it!

Against Dave's better judgment, Abby had decided to try it, and had
soon followed suit, spitting it up into her napkin as well. She wasn't
sure what John had done to one of her favorite meals, but if she never
had to eat lasagna again she wouldn't mind. John had been busy
cleaning up before he sat down, half of Dave's plate gone but only
because he'd been sneaking bits to Kermit, who happily scarfed it
down. Well, Dave thought. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

Finally, John tried his own creation. And he'd found that it tasted
*horrible*. "This is so gross."

"Oh, thank God," Abby said with relief, putting her napkin down on the
table. She looked pointedly at Dave. "I thought *I* was going to have
to be the first one to say it."

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," Dave had said to John. "I know
you really want to learn to cook, and I figured it might discourage
you if your first time turned out horrible." John's shoulders sagged
with defeat, understanding why Dave hadn't wanted to tell him - he
already didn't ever want to cook again. "Hey!" Dave had then said,
smiling brightly. "Kermit likes it, so it wasn't a total disaster,
right??"

And even though the furface *had* liked it, John knew that hours later
the poor guy ended up lethargic, cranky, and *sick*. And John had been
the one left cleaning up after him, because Dave refused to touch
Kermit's puke, even though it was his cat. But it'd been John's fault,
so it was only right he clean up the mess. At least that's what Dave
had said.

"John?" He snapped out of his thoughts, glancing at Rhonda with raised
eyebrows. She cocked an eyebrow of her own. "You were off in la-la
land. Thinking of anything interesting?"

"Uh, no, not really," he replied sheepishly, glancing back to the
vegetables as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks, not wanting to
share that fiasco with Rhonda, who was obviously an excellent cook as
well. Quick, change the subject, he thought. "So, uh...you live in
Chicago?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding, and then seemed to reconsider. "Well,
West Chicago."

"And Dave grew up in New York?" John asked hesitantly, not sure how
far to push but wanting to know more about Dave. Sure, they'd spoken
about him at Doc Magoo's while they'd been waiting for him to wake up
after his overdose, but nothing serious, just wistful memories.
Perhaps this was a perfect time to find out more information.

"Yeah," she answered slowly, almost regretfully. "He grew up in New
York...with his father..." She paused for a moment, lost in deep
thought, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed before she looked back
up to him. "Has Dave...told you...about his childhood?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "Not really."

"Has...has he told you about his father?" They made eye contact, and
she immediately knew the answer; he didn't even have to say it. "John,
why don't you sit down and have some coffee with me?"

He swallowed hard, nodding silently. Okay, he thought, this was it.
They sat down at the table, and Rhonda poured the coffee in the mugs
while he stirred in the cream and sugar. Once that was finished, they
settled into their seats, Rhonda taking a sip before setting her cup
back down and folding her hands over the table.

"John...how serious are you about Dave?" she asked, looking him
straight in the eye, but he didn't get a chance to reply before she
started speaking again. "My son has been hurt too many times - more
times than I can remember. I can tell that he loves you, John, so if
you aren't serious," she continued, swallowing hard before going on,
her voice thick with emotion, "please - for the sake of Dave - end it
now."

"Rhonda," John said softly, looking down at his hands. "I love your
son, and I would never hurt him."

"I can tell, especially from the way he talks about you." She smiled
then, a real smile, but it soon vanished as tears brimmed at her eyes,
and then she seemed embarrassed. "Oh, jeeze...look at me. It's not
that time of the month, but you wouldn't know it." She took a deep
breath then, before looking up at him with glistening eyes. "It's
just...we were divorced, ever since Dave was about three years old.
And it was an ugly divorce, at that. Dave's father was a cop and knew
some good lawyers, and since I could barely afford one, he wasn't very
good, and Frank - Dave's father - destroyed me in court."

"Destroyed you how?" John asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm a recovering alcoholic," she said with a faux-shrug. "I'd been in
recovery for about 6 years, and I was happy with Frank when we dated,
and I thought when we got married it'd be perfect. And it was...until
I got pregnant. Frank didn't want kids at all, and even though it
wasn't my fault he blamed me and really became such a bastard after
Dave was born. I just...I just needed an escape after a really
terrible fight, so I drank and drank...and then I couldn't stop after
that. I managed to pull myself together when Dave was probably two,
and I found a sponsor who saved my life and taught me that I didn't
have to put up with the way I was being treated. So, I decided to
divorce Dave's father, and he didn't take it well at all...he pulled
out all the stops, and even though he hadn't wanted Dave and even
still didn't, he got full custody of him and I got visitation.

"I hated it," she said, after a pause, "but I needed to move on
despite that. But Frank knew everyone, and every time I moved he
managed to ruin things for me. My sister lived out here and set up
this job so I came here. I saw Dave whenever possible, but he lived so
far away it was hard to find something convenient for both of us." She
laughed then, bitterly. "Who am I kidding? Convenient for me. I was so
self-absorbed in getting past the divorce I didn't...I didn't
realize...I couldn't see...maybe I did see it, but I just - no,
because if I *had* seen something, if I'd known his father was doing
that to him, I would've - I swear to you, John, I would've..."

"I know," John said, as tears fell from her eyes, though she wiped
them away as best as possible. On impulse, he took her hands in his,
looking directly at her. "Rhonda, it wasn't your fault. And I know
that that's hard to accept, because maybe you felt like you should've
seen something or recognized something, but sometimes it's hard to
see, for whatever reason. Sometimes these things just happen. It's
only after we accept that that we can move on."

"I know..." she said, sniffling. "It's just so hard..."

John nodded, hoping to continue this so he could reassure her more,
but they heard the front door open, and soon Dave could be heard.

"Hey, Ma?" he called from the living room, settling his bike against
the wall and taking off his jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the
coat rack. He began towards the kitchen, carrying the paper bag with
him, knowing the only reason she'd wanted him to go was so that she
could spend some alone time with John. "They ran out of everything
except eggs, so that's all I got." He stopped in the doorway. "Where'd
my mom go?"

"Bathroom," John reported, stirring the vegetables once more. "She
wanted to freshen up before dinner."

"Why?" Dave asked, looking over John's shoulder to watch what he was
doing. He grinned. "You stir those like a pro. And my mom never
'freshens up.' Did she cry?"

"No," John said, shaking his head.

Dave looked at him accusingly. "Did you make my mom cry??"

"No!" John exclaimed, pulling a face. "She's just freshening up,
Dave."

Moving into the hallway, Dave heard water running from beyond the
closed bathroom door as he approached circumspectly. Leaning close to
it and listening for a moment, he knocked a few times before the water
turned off.

"Hey, Ma?" he called quietly, but loud enough for her to hear through
the closed door. "Are you okay in there?"

The door swung open and his mother stood in the doorway, smiling
brightly as she smoothed down her outfit, although her red, swollen
eyes gave her away. "I'm fine, Dave. I was just freshening up."

"You never 'freshen up'," he stated, clear concern in his eyes. "What
happened? Did John make you cry?"

"No," she said, exasperation laced in her voice as she rolled her
eyes. She brushed past him and towards the kitchen again, but Dave
gently took her hand and stopped her. "Dave, I'm fine. We just had a
little talk, that's all."

There was a pause that caught John's attention from the kitchen, and
he could see Dave and Rhonda standing in the hallway. Dave's
expression was showing his worry, but he only hesitated briefly before
letting out a deep breath and flashing a small smile.

"Now come on," Rhonda said, smiling as well. "John's stuck in there
fending for himself with the food, and don't think I haven't forgotten
that lasagna fiasco from a few weeks ago."

"Dave!" John called from the kitchen, having overheard. "I can't
believe you told her that!"

Dave laughed as they made their way back into the kitchen, where John
looked up at them, still stirring the vegetables obediently. "Sorry,"
the younger man said, smiling innocently. "If it's any consolation,
when Mom was first teaching *me* how to cook, I nearly burned down the
kitchen." John glanced suspiciously at him with narrowed eyes. "It's
true, I swear."

"It is," Rhonda said, approaching John and glancing over his shoulder.
"You know, John," she went on to say, breaking into a grin. "You stir
those like a pro."

"Rowrr?" they suddenly heard from below, and Dave grinned broadly as
Kermit made his way into the kitchen, walking in like he ran the place
- which he most certainly did. Finally, the furface had gotten out
from underneath the bed! Dave couldn't wait to introduce him to his
mother.

"Dave..." Rhonda said, eyeing the cat, who casually trotted to her son
before rubbing himself against his leg, in seek of his owner's
attention. "Are you aware that there is a cat in your kitchen?"

"Yes," her son replied, bending down to pick the kitty up and cradle
him in his arms. "His name is Kermit."

"Kermit?" she asked, her reaction close to what John's had been upon
learning the cat's name. "And I specifically remember you being
allergic to cats."

"I've heard that scientists are coming up with new discoveries every
day," Dave said, petting the cat affectionately, and it soon began to
purr with contentment. "Maybe someday, they'll come up with something
called allergy pills, and I'll be able to take them so I won't sneeze
and get hives every time a furry animal comes near me."

"Yeah, I get it." Rhonda sighed, tossing John a look that clearly
showed her exasperation towards her son's sarcasm, though John smiled
in seeing the playfulness in her eyes. "So why did you name him
Kermit? He's not even green."

"Sorry, Ma," he replied, grinning, "but they ran out of all the green
ones."

"You bought him?" she asked. "You hate cats, why would you buy a cat?"

"I like Kermit," Dave replied in defense. "And I didn't buy him, I got
him from a patient who couldn't take care of him anymore."

"From a patient?" she asked, as if the idea were incredulous. "Who
knows where that thing has been! He could have rabies or...I don't
know, some other disease cats get."

"Kermit takes offense to that," Dave said, narrowing his eyes. "I'll
have you know that he is perfectly healthy. I had him checked out at
the vet's. He's even had all his shots and vaccinations. He's a very
good cat." Dave suddenly grinned, covering the kitty's ears with one
hand. "I got him some catnip for Christmas, too. But, shhhh, don't
tell him."

Rhonda rolled her eyes as John said: "I swear, sometimes Dave treats
that cat better than he treats me."

"Oh, don't be jealous, John," Dave said, as he began to leave the
room, cat still in arms. "I got you some catnip too."

-------------------------------

Your body is a wonderland

Your body is a wonderland

I'll use my hands

Your body is a wonderland

-------------------------------

"Wow," John said, wiping his hands on his napkin and then tossing it
onto his empty plate. "Dinner was excellent, Rhonda. You sure are a
good cook."

"Damn straight," Dave agreed around the last of his food. "You can
come over and cook for us any day."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," mother reminded her son, who pulled
a face but complied.

During the course of the dinner, John had learned a lot more about
Dave than he had since meeting the younger man. Not by means of
personality or character - he was positive there was no one who knew
the Dave better in that sense besides perhaps his mother. Rhonda had
brought up several childhood incidents that Dave would've rather left
unsaid due to the apparent embarrassment of the tales, and they'd all
talked themselves into several fits of laughter throughout the course
of the evening. It was now late, later than all had thought - so late
it would soon be Christmas Day, something everyone was looking forward
to, especially Dave.

"I don't know about Dave," John said now, pouring himself more coffee,
fearing he might be up all night due to it but knowing that he and
Dave sure could think of things to do during that time, "but I'm
full."

"Dave's never full," Rhonda stated, a smile on her face, and, unable
to speak through a mouthful, Dave shot her a look. Grabbing empty
plates, she stood, cleaning up what was left of the dinner they'd
shared.

"Ma, I'll do it," Dave said - after he swallowed his food, of course.
He began to stand as well, collecting the utensils.

"Dave, let me," she insisted, swatting his hands away.

"Ma, I'll do it," he repeated, more firmly this time. He suddenly
caught John's eye, who then gave him a weird look as he shook his head
subtly. Dave cast him a puzzling glance, but John continued to shake
his head, before looking away casually, leaving Dave confused but
knowing what he was trying to say, even if he didn't know why. "Okay,"
Dave said at that time, though hesitantly so. "You can do it, Ma."

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "Now why don't you go give Kermit
the leftovers and wish him a Merry Christmas for me."

"Sure thing," Dave said, standing as he did so. He grabbed the scraps
from their plates and compiled it into Kermit's food bowl, beckoning
the kitty by calling his name, and soon the cat ran in, immediately
digging into his ham and mashed potatoes. Dave patted his head. "Merry
Christmas, little guy. You have fun." Standing, he turned back to his
mother and John, saying: "I'll set up the guest room for you, Ma. Why
don't you help me, John?"

"Sure," the older man said, crossing the room to join Dave. They moved
into the guest bedroom, the bed bare and unmade; because no one ever
came into this room, neither of them had taken the time to do that
task since moving in. Well, except for when they had the occasional
fight and one was stuck sleeping in here, but even in that instance
they brought their own pillow and usually stole the blanket from their
room out of childish spite.

Closing the door behind them, Dave touched John's arm, causing the
Chief Resident to turn and look at him. Quietly, Dave then said: "What
was up with that 'uh-uh' look after dinner just now?"

"What 'uh-uh' look?" John asked, playing innocent as he began to pull
out the bedclothes and make the bed. Dave moved to the other side of
the bed, assisting John with the task at hand. "I don't know what
you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me!" Dave declared, pointing his finger, though
there was no malice behind his accusation, only confusion and slight
curiosity. The older man glanced up, watching as Dave's eyebrows rose
and he stared him down accusingly. "I went to go help my mom clean up
the dishes, and you were there with the 'uh-uh'."

"Oh..." John said, his eyes casting to the bed as he and Dave pulled
the sheets over it. "*That* 'uh-uh' look."

"Was there another one I missed? Yeah, that one," Dave said, pausing
as he waited for John to elaborate. And when he didn't: "Well? What
was it about?"

"Oh," John said, ignoring his lover's theatrical sigh and eye-roll,
also ignoring the fact that the younger man was trying to get John to
look him in the eye. He shrugged almost helplessly. "It's
just...your...your mom just likes to do things for you, that's all."

Dave pulled a face, his confusion showing in his clear brown eyes.
"John, if you didn't notice, my mother wants to do *everything* for
me. Don't you think it'd be nice if I tried to help her out for once?"

The younger man had a point, but John had one too. He just wasn't sure
how to express it, didn't even really want to. And he knew Dave wasn't
going to like it at all. So he stayed silent, shrugging casually as he
began to unfold the comforter and lay it across the bed. Hearing Dave
sigh once more, John glanced up and met his eyes, the Chief Resident's
expression showing his concern. "Look. Your mom...she feels...bad, to
say the least, about what happened when you were a kid. She couldn't
help you then, so she wants to help you now." John was about to
continue when Dave suddenly sat down at the edge of the bed, his brow
furrowed in deep thought. Moving to sit next to him, only then did
John go on. "Dave..."

"Did she tell you something?" he suddenly asked, looking directly into
John's eyes, searching them desperately. "While I was gone, did she
tell you something?"

"No, she just said..." John paused, wondering why Dave was suddenly
panicking over things that John had already known. Unless there was
more to it than that...unless Dave was hiding more than what John had
previously managed to pry from him. Was that it? Dave really trusted
him that little?

"She just said what?" his companion asked, his gaze still meeting
John's. John noticed that Dave, who normally had terrible eye contact,
always locked eyes with someone when he wanted the truth, always
looked into the person's eyes that he was talking to - and it was the
only time he did it. Sometimes it unnerved John when Dave did that to
him, but Dave wasn't going to win this time; John was going to use
this to his advantage and see if he could find out something more to
the mystery that was Dave. "What did she say?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Dave then asked, confused by the question. He
quickly recovered, however, but not quick enough for John to notice.
"Because...I just want to know, that's all. What did she say?"

Conceding probably only because he was just about ready to give up on
ever learning anything more about Dave Malucci - and because he really
didn't want to fight with Dave right now - John sighed silently and
said: "She just told me about divorcing your dad, and about...feeling
guilty because of your dad abusing you, and the fact that she didn't
know. She feels really guilty, Dave, and I just thought you should
know that...that's why I gave you the look at dinner, I just wanted
you to - "

"It wasn't her fault," the younger man interrupted before John could
get in another word. He glanced up at John, his eyes displaying his
guilt. He didn't want his mother to feel responsible for what had
happened to him, because... "She couldn't have known. I never said
anything. And, my dad didn't...I mean...I lied to her. And he did too.
So she believed us. It wasn't her fault, John."

"I know, Dave," he said, wrapping an arm around him and rubbing
comforting circles on his back. "But...she thinks she should've seen
something, because you're her son. But she didn't, and you...suffered,
Dave, for nearly sixteen years. It's only natural for her to blame
herself."

"But it wasn't her fault, and I've told her that before," he said
quietly, looking away. "It...I mean...it was mine, and she can't - "

"What?" John interrupted, horrified at what Dave had just said. "Dave,
it wasn't her fault, but it certainly wasn't yours either!"

"How do you know?" Dave asked, looking at John once more. "You weren't
there, you don't know what happened...you don't know the things I
did..."

"Dave, your father beat you throughout your entire childhood!" John
exclaimed, incredulous as to why Dave would even begin to think it was
his fault. "Nothing can justify that! Nothing!" Dave was looking away
again, and John slipped his hands on either side of Dave's face,
forcing the other man to look him directly in the eye. "Dave, please
tell me you believe me when I say that nothing was your fault. Nothing
you ever did, nothing you ever said, *nothing* ever justifies what
your father did to you, *nothing*!"

"Sure, John," he whispered in reply, his eyes telling him a different
story. The younger man leaned in close then, resting his head on
John's shoulder for a moment before saying: "It wasn't my mother's
fault either."

"Yeah, but *she* might not know that. Have you ever really talked to
her about it?" John answered, not liking that he could not convince
Dave but knowing that he needed to drop it right now. He could see the
answer without Dave even replying. "You have to talk to her, Dave.
Otherwise...she'll never know that."

Dave nodded silently, before feeling John's eyes on him. Glancing up
at the older man's expression, he did a double take. "Now? You want me
to talk to her *now*? I don't know what I'm gonna say!" John simply
raised his eyebrows, causing Dave to sigh. "Oh, all right, fine..."

"I'll finish up in here," John replied, both men knowing there wasn't
much left to do, but also knowing it meant John would lay low until
Dave was finished speaking with his mother. The younger man stood,
crossing the room, but then turned back to his lover before leaving
the room, his expression showing his uncertainty and his clear brown
eyes showing his guilt. John approached, hugging him gently. "Just
talk to her, Dave. You'll both feel better afterwards. I promise."

"Yeah?" Dave asked, his hesitance creeping into his voice as he looked
up into John's eyes, the older man continuing to be amazed at how
innocent he could seem while still appearing to be so wise beyond his
years.

He smiled softly in reply. "Yeah."

-------------------------------

There's something' bout the way the hair falls in your face

I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase

You tell me where to go, and,

Though I might leave to find it,

I'll never let your head hit the bed

Without my hand behind it

-------------------------------

"Hey, Ma," Dave said, stepping into the kitchen, where she was busy
cleaning up the dishes in the sink, Kermit sitting on the counter
nearby, silently begging for scraps that Rhonda occasionally tossed to
him. She had to admit, she'd grown to liking the little guy.

"Hey, Dave," she said in turn, as he quickly shooed the cat off of the
kitchen counter. Sure, he loved the furface, but he wasn't allowed on
the kitchen counters. People ate there. "Where's John?"

"He's in the bedroom, finishing up," he replied, picking up a
dishtowel and drying the dishes his mother placed in the rack beside
the sink.

"Why don't you help him?"

"It's sort of a one-man job," Dave stated, taking a sideways glance at
his mother, who eyed him suspiciously. "Besides, I figured I could
help you."

"I don't need help."

"Sure, you do. Drying the dishes."

The room grew quiet, uncomfortably so. Mother knew when Son wanted to
speak of something, especially when it was something important. He
became fidgety, often to the point of being clumsy, and when he
finally dropped a dish onto the floor, Rhonda turned to face her son,
whose face was blushing crimson.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, purely bemused as he bent down to
pick up the broken pieces, rather ignorantly. She knelt down before
him, slapping his hands away as he tried to mumble some sort of
embarrassed apology. "Dave, stop it. You're going to cut yourself! I
thought you were a doctor." She finally got him to stop, and he looked
up at her with the deep brown eyes he'd inherited from her. "What do
you want to talk about?"

"What makes you think I want to talk about anything?" If he'd been
looking up at her, Dave would seen rather than feel his mother roll
her eyes. There was a moment's pause, before he glanced up at her with
a sigh. "Want to have some coffee with me?"

"Uh oh," she said, grinning as she stood. "The coffee tactic. This
must be serious."

"It is serious," he declared, his tone sobering her and wiping the
smile from her face. They sat down, the coffee between them, but Dave
just stared at his mug, moving it between his hands, annoying her
relentlessly until she placed her hands over his, glancing up at him
with beseeching eyes. "Look...I want...when I was a kid..." He let out
a sigh, finally just spitting it out. "I want you to know that what
happened when I was a kid wasn't your fault, because I think you think
that it is."

She drew her hands back as if the touch of his skin burned her,
leaning back in her seat, her expression showing her shock. At first,
she said nothing, and her expression remained frozen in surprise as
she stared at Dave, mouth slightly agape. Dave stared back at her, his
own expression portraying his slight confusion and apprehension as he
waited for her to say something - anything. He could hear the clock
ticking on the wall, John bustling about in the guestroom, Kermit
purring softly at Dave's feet. Waiting. Waiting. And he swore he was
about to scream in the deafening silence unless she said something
soon.

But she didn't say anything.

She got up and left.

"Ma?" he called, watching as she retreated into the guest bedroom,
slamming the door closed. He stared down the hallway for a minute in
surprise. Well. He couldn't say he'd been expecting *that*. Suddenly,
the door opened again, John was pushed out, and then the door slammed
once more. He could hear his mother crying softly inside as John
glanced at him incredulously, and immediately held up his hands
defensively. "I didn't do anything! I just said that whatever happened
when I was a kid wasn't her fault, and...you did this!"

"I didn't do anything, Dave!"

"You started it! You said, 'Dave, go talk to your mom and open old
wounds,' " he retorted sarcastically, continuing on to say: " 'and
while you're at it, why don't you pour some salt on 'em? That'll make
it all better.' "

"I did not say that," John said, brushing past Dave to move into the
kitchen. He spotted the broken dish on the floor, turning to look Dave
in the eye, who had moved back into the room with him. "What
happened?"

"It broke," he simply said, as if that explained everything. He
indicated the bedroom, now. "So what am I supposed to do now? Do you
hear her?? She's crying in there! I hate it when my mom cries, John,
she doesn't deserve that!"

"Well, go in there!" John said, carefully stepping over the broken
dish to get to the broom closet so he could clean it up himself.
"Jesus, Dave, am I supposed to tell you everything??"

"I can't," Dave said lamely, shaking his head as he began fingering
the tablecloth.

"Why?"

"I just...can't." He seemed frustrated as he angrily picked at the
tablecloth, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "She just needs to calm
down and then..."

He didn't get another word out before John spat: "Because it's hard?"

Dave glanced up, clearly annoyed. "What are you talking about?"

"This is what you always do," John pointed out.

"What?" he asked, and then repeated when John didn't immediately
reply, "What?? What do I always fucking do?"

"Walk away, Dave!" John replied angrily. He was sick of Dave closing
himself off from everyone because things were too hard or he was too
scared. He was sick of Dave closing himself off from *him*. "When
thinks go bad or get tough or you're too scared, you walk away and
pretend nothing is wrong, every single time."

"I do not!"

"You do too, Dave!" John exclaimed, exasperated. "You always have.
Personally, I think that's why you became an ER doctor. So you
wouldn't have to deal with tough situations...treat 'em and street
'em..."

"Shut up!" Dave snapped, cutting John off.

"No!" John said, shaking his head. "You want me to shut up, then prove
me wrong...go in there and prove me wrong. Unless you're too scared,
tough guy."

Dave stared John down for a moment, and John knew how much he had to
hate him right now. But he was hopping that issuing Dave a challenge
would make the younger man want to meet it; he could never let go of a
challenge. Then, suddenly, he let out a grunt of frustration before
turning on his heel sharply, and John was almost sure he was going to
go into their bedroom and chicken out and give up. But he watched as
Dave paused at the spare bedroom, knocking, trying the knob and
finding it locked after receiving no reply and before leaning his
forehead against it. The Chief Resident could hear him speaking softly
now, though the words were hardly audible from this distance. "Please,
open the door, Ma. I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't want to do that.
I just wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry. Please, open the door?
Ma...I'll sit out here all night if I have to. You know I will..."

With a sigh, John joined Dave at the guestroom door, ignoring the
older man's exasperation - which was aimed directly at him. "You
wanted me to do this by myself and now you're butting in on it?" Dave
snapped, but John continued to ignore him as he knocked on the closed
and locked door, saying: "Rhonda. It's John. Open the door, please.
Dave wants to talk to you, and I think you should let him. Stop
ignoring the problem like it's going to go away. It doesn't work like
that. Now you open this door or I'm going to get the key and lock both
of you inside, until - "

To the surprise of both John and Dave, the door opened, and Rhonda
appeared, her mascara running slightly and her eyes puffy from crying.
She glanced at John, then Dave, and sighed deeply, her shoulders
slumping with defeat. "Come in, Dave. I'm sorry, I just needed..."

"It's okay," he understood, nodding as he managed to glance
apologetically and thankfully at John at the same time. Abruptly,
Rhonda embraced him tightly, and he allowed her to do so, melting into
her and burying his face in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her
as well. There was nothing quite like the feeling of your own mother
hugging you. Then, after they disentangled themselves from each other,
Rhonda turned to John, who was about to walk away and back into the
kitchen, and she pulled him into an embrace as well. Dave watched as
John startled slightly but soon hugged his mother back, and for a
minute he felt a little bad for his lover; he knew John had issues
with his own mother, and while he knew this was no consolation, he
hoped the fact that Dave's own mother accepted him would help. She
then smiled at John, who smiled back before he turned back and went
into the kitchen, leaving Dave and his mother alone.

They glanced at each other, seeing the same thing reflected in each
other's eyes. Rhonda wasn't sure how a mother could forsake their own
child for simply being who they were. When she'd found out about Dave,
she had to admit that at first she was a little tentative, but she
would never stop loving her son. Never. And Dave, in spite of all the
anger he felt about his childhood, could never blame his mother. He
could never stop loving her, either.

"Come on," Dave said then. "Let's go in your room and talk."

"My room?" she asked, attempting to break the tension with humor. "I'm
not moving in, Dave."

"God, I hope not." He grinned then, as he sat on the bed, the covers
consisting of grays and pale blues, with splashes of green mixed in
with the pattern. She sat down next to him, studying her son as he
stared at his hands, his brow knotted with thought. He was so
handsome, had grown into such a handsome young man - and he knew this,
she thought with a smile. But despite this vanity he also knew the
clear resemblance to his father, and he hated that, hated it so much
to look like the man that had hurt him so much. "Ma?"

"Oh." Had he said something? He was looking up at her expectantly, so
he must've. But what? "I...I'm sorry, I drifted off..."

"I asked what you thought about what I said in the kitchen." Just like
that. Sometimes her son's bluntness startled her. At least most of the
time he was just trying to be honest and not obnoxious. Most of the
time. "I wasn't just saying it to make you feel better, you know. It's
the truth."

A faint smile. "What brought this on?"

"John," he simply said. No changing the subject, obviously, as she'd
hoped. "He pointed out some things I should've seen...and I'm sorry I
didn't see it, and all this time - "

"Dave, stop it," she said. She hated it when her son was upset; he
didn't deserve that, after all he'd been through. "Why can't we just
put this behind us?"

"Because it's never going to be behind us, Ma!" he said, standing and
pacing the room briefly before turning to her with desperation in his
eyes. "Not until we talk about this!"

"Dave..."

"No! Listen to me!"

"David - !"

"Don't 'David' me," he warned, before signing and joining her on the
bed again. "Look...John was right, we can't ignore this. What Dad
did...it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known, Ma. He lied, I
lied...and we were good at it. I'm sorry you had to find out like you
did, and I think that's why you blame yourself so much, but I want you
to stop doing it. Dad is doing this to me, not you."

"He's not doing it anymore, baby," she said, placing a comforting hand
on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I know it wasn't my
entire fault, but...Dave, stop, and just listen to me. I'm your
mother, and I should've seen something. I saw the bruises, and I
asked, but you always said you were fine and your father said you were
fine too...but you weren't fine, and I believed him so easily because
I didn't want to argue..." She paused, finally, and then looked up at
him, tears brimming at her eyes. "Is doing??"

"What?" he asked, slightly puzzled at her seemingly non-sequitor.

"You said 'is doing this.' What is he still doing to you?" He opened
his mouth to say something, but no words came, only a sigh and an
almost pained expression. "Dave, are you still having nightmares? You
said they stopped years ago..."

"Ma, I didn't want to worry you..."

"Oh, Dave," she breathed, her eyes closing as tears slipped down her
cheeks. He pulled her close to him, as she grasped him tightly, as if
she let go, he wouldn't be there anymore. She suddenly began crying,
apologizing as she did so, and the words barely came out through her
sobs. "Dave...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry, baby, please forgive me,
please..."

"Ma, it wasn't..." He suddenly stopped, glancing down at her, though
her face was buried in his chest. It hit him hard, the realization
that he'd missed all these years and all the time of telling her it
hadn't been her fault. It hadn't, but that didn't matter; she needed
to be forgiven. It was as simple as that, and he hadn't even known it
until now. "Ma, it's okay, I forgive you. It's okay..."

"Dave, I'm so sorry," she continued to say, her small body shaking.
"Please, forgive me, Dave..."

"I do, Ma, I do," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed
the lump in his throat as he began rubbing comforting circles on her
back, taking the position she had usually taken with him all these
years. He whispered then: "Ma, I forgive you."

She suddenly stopped, as if he words registered for the first time,
and she looked up at him, her eyes glistening as they searched his.
"You...you do? You forgive me, baby?"

He nodded. "I do, I do...I do..."

"Dave, I..." She let out a sigh of relief that she must've been
holding for over ten years, and she hugged him so tightly he was
afraid she was going to suffocate him. He held her back, though not as
tightly, and they soon separated, his mother smiling sheepishly as she
wiped at his shirt. "Oh, look what I did to your new sweater."

"I'm sure it'll wash out," he said, glancing down at the makeup stains
her face had left in its crying wake. He glanced up at her then,
needing to say something he didn't say very often but knew that he
should. "I love you, Ma."

She smiled, still wiping at her wet face. "I love you too, Dave. Now,
come on. I'm sure John is beginning to worry. Besides, I don't think
the rich boy can fend for himself alone much longer."

Dave grinned. "I can already smell the place burning down."

She opened the door but he stopped her from leaving, and she turned to
face him, glancing at him curiously. "What is it?"

"I...well..." He sighed, deciding to just spit it out: "Do you like
John? Honestly, do you really like him?"

"What if I didn't?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "I'd still be with him, if
that's what you're asking, but it would hurt me, Ma...I *need* for you
to like him."

"He's good for you," she stated then, reaching out to rub Dave's arm.
"He makes you happy...I like that."

"He does," Dave replied, and then smiled slightly. "I hope I make him
happy."

"I think you do."

"So you like him?"

"I like him a lot."

There was pause, before Dave looked up at his mother and said quietly:
"I love him, Ma."

"I know," she said, smiling softly. "Does *he* know?"

He shook his head, unable to find the words at first. "Yeah, sure...I
guess...I mean...I haven't told him, if that's what you're asking...I
don't know if I can..."

"Why not?"

"You know how I am, Ma..." he said, but it was apparent he did. He
glanced up at his mother, the desperation in his eyes almost breaking
her heart. "How long is this going to last? How long before I fuck it
up or...I mean...what's the point? What's the point? I fuck everything
up, you know that, I've done it all my life. What's the point if I'm
just going to do that here?"

"The point is to be here now," Rhonda replied, taking his hand in
hers. "Don't be afraid to tell someone how you feel, because it could
be too late by the time you do. That's what will...screw it up, Dave.
Not you, *never* you...and watch your language."

He smiled then, as they began to finally leave the room, before he
leaned close to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Ma," he
whispered into her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dave," she replied. "Now come on, I think I really
smell something burning now and this apartment has to cost you a
fortune."

"It sure does," Dave said, nodding with a smile, because although his
part of the rent was smaller than John's it still put a strain on his
wallet. "It sure does..."

-------------------------------

You want love, we'll make it

Swim in a deep sea of blankets

I'll take all your big plans and break 'em

This is bound to be a while...

-------------------------------

"So how do you like my mom?"

"She's really nice," John replied, as they lie in bed, wrapped in each
other's arms. The room was very dark, and John knew Dave liked it that
way - the younger man even covered up the digital clock on the stereo
with a towel because he claimed the light was really bright and he
wouldn't be able to sleep because of it. And John knew from experience
Dave wouldn't sleep until that stereo light was covered completely,
along with all the windows, and the door had to be shut too, so the
hall light wouldn't creep in. He could, however, stand the small alarm
clock since the light was red and didn't reflect much. At first John
thought that it was because the light simply bothered Dave while he
was trying to sleep, but after noting that Dave would barely undress
in front of John and wouldn't even have sex without the lights off he
realized it was because of his scars. John had thought of mentioning
it before, but thought that perhaps it didn't matter if he didn't mind
them - it could've been that Dave didn't want to see them himself.

"She's a lot like you," John said now, chasing his previous train of
thought away. "I like her."

"You like me."

"I love you," John corrected, hoping to receive the traditional reply,
and even while he knew he wouldn't he was still slightly let down,
just as he was every time. He knew Dave loved him; even if the younger
man couldn't say it, he *knew* that...but there was always this little
voice in the back of his mind that questioned the fact that Dave
couldn't say it. If he really loved him, he could easily say it,
couldn't he? Annoying voice. He told it to take a hike before he
kicked its ass. It promptly shut up. "You keep looking at the clock."

"It's almost Christmas," Dave replied, and John could feel him smile
against his chest, which Dave was partly resting his head on.
"Tomorrow is going to be the best Christmas ever."

"You sound like a little kid," John said, chuckling softly as he
rubbed his hand up and down Dave's muscular back. God, he loved the
feeling of Dave's strong body under his fingertips - under *him*.
"Hey, you think...?"

"No, too tired," Dave interrupted before John could finish the
thought, and John knew Dave *had* to be exhausted if he was turning
down sex. But he obviously wasn't *that* tired... "We could make out."

John had to laugh. "Sometimes I think you really *are* a little kid.
Get over here."

Grinning, they found each other's lips in the darkness through sheer
familiarity, and kissed each other hard, their teeth clinking together
but neither of them noticing. Dave did a quick skim-and-grope on John,
just to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and
after that he pulled away, nuzzling his head in the older man's chest,
who grinned softly. Dave may not like to admit it, but he was as just
as much of a cuddler as John was.

"Hey," John suddenly said, remembering something, and Dave replied
with another "Hey" before he could get anything else out. "You said
tomorrow was going to be the best Christmas ever," the Chief Resident
stated. "Did you have any good Christmases when you were a kid?"

"Once," he said after a minute of short silence, where John presumed
Dave had thought it over. The older man stayed quiet, hoping that Dave
would elaborate so John could find out more about the younger man. "I
always used to go to my mom's for Christmas, or I'd stay with my dad,
but I remember one time my mom came to New York and stayed for a
couple days. Both my parents had to pretend to be nice to each other
and my dad had to pretend to be nice to me, and when we ate dinner
that night, talking and laughing, it was...I don't know, it was like
for one night...I got to pretend that we were a family, and that we
were happy."

"Sounds really nice."

"It *was* really nice."

"What makes you think this one's going to be better?"

John could feel more than see Dave look up at him in the darkness, and
soon he felt Dave's forehead leaning against him and feel the younger
man's hot breath against his own. "That wasn't real, John, and this
is. You're real, we're real...this...this is real, and it'll be real
tomorrow and the next day, and..." He trailed off, and then whispered:
"I love that...I love knowing you'll be here tomorrow, John. Even if
it doesn't last forever, I love knowing that you'll be there
tomorrow..."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dave," John said softly. "Not tomorrow, not
the day after, or the day after that. I promise. I'm here to stay...as
long as you want me."

"That's what I love," Dave whispered. "And that's what makes this the
best Christmas ever."

John's grin threatened to explode off the sides of his head as he
slipped his hands on either side of Dave's face and pulled him into a
kiss, because if he hadn't been sure that Dave loved him before, he
sure as hell was now. And he said the only three words he could think
of right now, as he glanced at the clock and realized what time it
was.

"Merry Christmas, Dave."

-------------------------------

Your body is a wonderland

Your body is a wonderland

I'll use my hands

Your body is a wonderland

-------------------------------

He's dreaming again. It's always the same. The house is dark, so dark,
just like it always is. He can't see where he's going, but that
doesn't matter because he knows where to go by now. He doesn't even
have to follow the whimpers and screams anymore. But no matter how
fast he goes, how expertly he travels these halls, he never gets there
in time to save him. Never.

It's always the same.

He's running, but yet he's not. He's sweating, but yet he is not.
Everything is slow and cold, a cold so deep it seeps into his bones,
and he's almost afraid that when he wakes it will remain, and he'll
never feel the warmth of love again.

Love. Love. There is no love in this house now, only terror. Pain.
Guilt. But only he feels guilt, because he cannot save him. Never gets
there in time. Ever. Always too late. Always.

Always the same.

He's approaching the door. Sees the light creeping out from under it.
Hears the cries, the heart-wrenching cries. Oh, God, how he cries...

His own vision blurs; tears coming to his eyes. And abruptly, the sobs
from beyond the door cease, and he knows he is too late. Expected it,
but yet it always hurts the same, and his guilt deepens. His heart
breaks.

He doesn't want to open the door, but he does - he can't stop himself.
Can't. Turning the knob, he slowly pushes the door ajar, his nose
picking up the familiar scent - blood. So much blood, all over the
room: the floor, the walls, the...the bed. The bed where the body lay
facedown, always face down. Always.

Because it's always the same.

He cries now, barely able to cross the short distance to the bed, only
hesitating slightly before touching the body. Oh, Jesus, it's still
warm, still so warm. He would think he was alive had he not known the
man was dead. He knew. Didn't know how or why, he just knew. And he
picked the body up, cradling it in his arms, whispering that it was
going to be okay, though he knew it wasn't. It never would be, not
until he made it in time, but he knew that that would never happen.
Because it never did. Never. Never...

And it was always the same.

---

Damn baby

You frustrate me

I know you're mine, all mine, all mine

But you look so good it hurts sometimes

---

John Carter awoke with a start, gasping for air as if he'd been
physically hit. He didn't know what time it was, but by the extreme
darkness he could guess it was just before dawn. Not caring to look at
the clock to see if he was right, needing to see if his lover was all
right first, he turned on the light and glanced at Dave's still form.
There he was, living and breathing and unharmed, sleeping peacefully
beside the Chief Resident. Safe. Thank God he was safe, though John
wasn't sure why he wouldn't be. The nightmare had taken his
rationality away for now, and briefly he hoped that Dave wasn't having
a similar dream. He knew how they haunted the younger man so.

He tried to fall back asleep after assuring himself that nothing was
going to happen to Dave, but his attempts were vain and eventually he
gave up, turning the light back on. And he sat there with the light on
for a long time, ending up watching Dave sleep, until the younger man
began to stir at about nine o'clock. He inhaled heavily, letting it
out with a deep yawn as he stretched before finally opening his eyes
slightly to glance at John.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"What time is it?" he asked, closing his eyes again and turning
slightly onto his stomach, partially burying his head in his pillow.

"About nine o'clock."

"Mmm..." Dave cracked his eyes open again, glancing at John before
closing them again. "What were you doing?"

"Watching you sleep."

Open again. "Why?"

"Because it's romantic."

Closed again. "It's romantic to watch your boyfriend snore and drool
in his sleep?"

"You don't drool," John pointed out.

"No," Dave agreed, and then suddenly grinned. "But you do."

John rolled his eyes, nudging Dave slightly. "So romantic."

"Hey, I can be romantic," Dave said, mock-defensively. "I speak
Spanish. I can whisper sweet nothings into your ear."

"Oh, really?" John challenged.

"S�, Se�or," Dave said, pulling John close and leaning into his ear,
then whispering huskily, his voice laced with desire: "Quiero t�
pene."

"What does that mean?" John asked, pulling away slightly.

"I want your penis."

John chuckled as he kissed Dave. "You're right. Very romantic."

"I've been practicing," Dave said, kissing John back. If Dave had
anything, then it *was* practice. He knew tricks and positions that
John had only heard of in bad pornos, and he hadn't even known they
were possible until Dave had showed him. And right now, Dave was
trailing kisses down John's jaw, to his neck, over his chest and right
to his nipple, swirling his tongue around the areola before biting the
hard nub and pulling gently, knowing full-well that that drove John
absolutely wild. "You like that, don't you?"

"God," he managed to breathe in one quick burst as he felt Dave's hand
slip into his sweatpants and enclose around his member, his hand
working at pumping him hard while his mouth still worked at his chest.
He moved now away from John's nipple and to the other one, repeating
the process before trailing his tongue up his neck ever so lightly,
enclosing his mouth over John's and clashing tongues with him. Dave
was always so horny all the time it still managed to amaze John every
time the younger man woke up in the middle of the night and turned the
light on, flashing the older man that smile that he knew would get him
something at two AM, even if John had an early shift.

"Voy a hacerle grita," Dave whispered into their kiss, "Otra vez y
otra vez y..."

John had no idea what he was saying, but he could be talking about
lower GI bleeding and he wouldn't care, just the sound of Dave's voice
in his ear and the feel of Dave's hand on his hot cock were enough to
get him involuntarily bucking his hips off of the bed and moaning, his
head tipped back and his heels grinding into the mattress.

"Merry Christmas, boys!!"

So abruptly it caused him to gasp, Dave's hand jerked away from his
penis and he glanced up to see the younger man sitting up in bed,
trying his best to cover himself with whatever blankets were left on
the bed after their short-lived romp. Following suit before he really
knew what was happening, John glanced up to see Rhonda standing
not-so-innocently in the doorway, one hand to her mouth to cover her
mock-surprise, and she offered an insincere apology before ducking out
and closing the door, laughing as she did so.

John's expression showed his horror. "Your mom just walked in on us as
you were...to me...and..."

"I know." Dave sighed, running his fingers through his hair before he
turned to face John, shaking his head. "She did that on purpose, you
know."

"Why would she do that??"

"Because she wanted to embarrass us."

"Well, it worked!"

"Yeah," he agreed, flopping himself back onto the bed, still shaking
his head in disbelief. "I'm not going to be able to do this in here
knowing she could barge in at any moment - and knowing that she
*will*."

"Well..." John said, his turn to lean close to Dave. "There is *one*
place we can go that has a lock on the door..."

"Where?"

John moved towards Dave's mouth as if to kiss him, but pulled away
teasingly, Dave trying vainly to catch his lips with his own, and John
leaned to Dave's ear instead, whispering: "The main shower..."

"You are so fucking sexy," Dave said, puling back slightly so he could
offer a naughty grin that was returned by his companion. He quickly
pulled John into a deep kiss, savoring it for a moment before climbing
out of bed and moving faster than John had seen him move in a while.
Grinning, he grabbed Dave's outstretched hand and they moved into the
hallway, rushing into the bathroom, and Dave called hastily to his
mother in passing: "Hey Ma we're going to take a quick shower before
breakfast see you later bye!"

They barely had the door closed - and locked - before they were all
over each other. Dave's mouth over John's, who was pressed up against
the back of the door, his hands pushing up Dave's shirt to feel the
younger man's broad chest and shoulders. Oh, he loved those shoulders.
Dave, meanwhile, had his arms wrapped around John, one traveling
downwards to cup his ass through the fabric of his sweatpants and the
other on his back, all while leading them towards the shower. Blindly,
he reached out and banged his hand into the shower door, pulling back
with a curse.

"Wait," he breathed, turning on the shower and quickly stripping off
his beater and boxers, throwing them to the floor as John pulled off
his sweatpants, allowing them to mingle with Dave's underwear. Soon,
John felt himself being pulled into the shower, the water warming
quickly to form steam around them. Pressed up against the wall again,
John found Dave pulling at his erection, the younger man's mouth still
ravaging his.

The older man brushed his fingertips across Dave's chest and moved
them to his back, feeling those strong muscles under his slick skin,
traveling down to the small of his back to where that small tattoo of
a stone tribal sun was that no one knew about except John. Lower yet,
his hand went, until it was firmly atop Dave's ass, and the younger
man immediately pulled away slightly, their breath coming in short
bursts as they separated from their heated kiss. Mutual hesitation
that made John's heart skip a beat, before Dave finally glanced up
quickly and began to kiss John again, his hesitance almost
unnoticeable.

Almost.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, John quickly placed his hands on
Dave's back, caressing the tattoo with one while the other
instinctively grabbed at Dave's back, leaving slight scratches from
his nails. The younger man was pumping his cock, slow on the way down
and then quickly upward, again and again and again, and - dear Jesus -
! His eyes screwed shut and he bit his lip, moaning as he arched his
back against the shower wall, coming in short bursts and bucking his
hips as he did so. He felt Dave jerk slightly, and opened his eyes
briefly to see that he'd accidentally gotten some on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to keep himself from laughing while he
reached up and wiped his semen away from Dave's cheek, as the younger
man chuckled.

"I think you got some of it up my nose."

John had to laugh out loud, before putting on his best pout.
"Aww...let me make it up to you..."

"Oh, yeah?" Dave asked, smiling slyly while cocking an eyebrow. "And
how exactly will you do that?"

"Let me show you," John said, grinning widely as he pulled Dave into a
deep kiss, right before doing just that.

-------------------------------

Your body is a wonderland

Your body is a wonderland

I'll use my hands

Your body is a wonderland

-------------------------------

To be continued...