----------------------------------
Chapter Sixteen: Living Your Ghost
----------------------------------
You in the dark
You in the pain
You on the run
-------------------------------
Abby Lockhart had never liked birthdays, especially her own. There
were a few reasons for this, but the generalization of all of them was
that it was never a good day on her birthday. Something always went
wrong, or perhaps nothing went right. So, following that precedent,
today was a pretty shitty day. She'd been woken up early this morning
to her new neighbors screaming at each other, something she was loathe
to say happened often; it was about one hundred degrees below zero
outside, which she'd had to walk in to get here; everyone seemed to
think she was their maid for the day and kept asking her to run
errands and figure out what the hell was wrong with their own
patients; and, right now? She was sitting in Doc Magoo's with her
ex-husband, who had just told her he was getting married to a
thirty-four-year-old teacher with a six-year-old son.
So, having just suffered a good kick while she was down, Abby was
staring into her coffee, mulling over the thought that Richard had
always wanted to have kids. Had he? She'd always thought otherwise,
and it was one of the reasons that she'd decided to have that secret
abortion, the other having been the fact the baby could end up having
the same disorder her mother did, and she didn't want to take care of
another Maggie and she didn't want her child to live through the
horror of being bipolar. But still, hearing this news, was a shock to
her heart that turned her blood cold.
"Why?" she suddenly asked, cocking an eyebrow and staring at the wall,
but seeing his slight puzzlement out of the corner of her eye. "Why
today, of all days? Did you decide to tell me, I mean."
He shrugged then, glancing up from his coffee. "Is today a bad day?"
He didn't remember. The bastard that had been her husband for all
those years, didn't remember that today, January tenth, was her
birthday. Utterly feeling betrayed and wounded, and taking that as the
last straw, Abby stood and bolted from Doc Magoo's, but not before
calling quickly over her shoulder: "I hope it works out this time."
Quickly, Abby made her way to County and into the Lounge, hoping to
get back to work and get her mind off of this as soon as possible. As
much as she was over Richard, it still hurt to hear what he'd said,
even more so to know that he didn't realize today was her birthday.
After all, even now she remembered his birthday. But, apparently, it
wasn't forgotten amongst everyone, because as soon as she got to her
locker, Dave Malucci ambushed her, gift-wrapped box in hand.
And the first thing that she blurted out before she could stop herself
was: "You remembered?"
"What?" he said, glancing at her as if any other idea were
incredulous. "You think just because I overdosed, took a hiatus for
about a month, went to rehab - not to mention therapy - that I'd
forget it was your birthday? Get out of here."
"Can I have it?" she asked, her day slightly brightening as she felt
excitement creep into her. She couldn't remember the last time someone
had bought her something for her birthday, and now she could hardly
wait to see what it was.
"You know," he said, a theatrically thoughtful look on his face as he
held the present in his hands, picking at the silver bow, "I went to
the mall last Saturday to get you a gift, but when I got there, I
realized I had no idea what to buy. I said to myself, what in God's
name do you get chicks for their birthdays? Finally, I found this."
He presented the gift to her, and she took the box from his hands,
glancing up at him with a slight smile and saying: "What is it?"
"Duh," he said, barely able to hide his own excitement. "Open it, and
you'll find out!"
She hesitated only briefly before ripping away at the carefully
wrapped paper, finding a plain white box underneath. Tossing the paper
to the floor for now, she took off the cover to the box to reveal a
beautiful red dress that was just her size. She glanced up at her
companion in surprise, pulling out the dress and holding it to her
front, trying to picture herself in it. If anything, Dave sure had
good taste, unless...
"You picked this out yourself?"
"I just thought of what I'd like to see you in," he said, winking, and
then grinned as he said: "About around the fifth time I circled the
entire mall, I called my mother, and she told me that women like to
get dressed up, so that gave me the idea. But I couldn't just buy you
a dress with nowhere to go in it, so..." He fished a pair of tickets
out of his pocket, holding it out to her, going on to say, "I figured,
why not buy you dinner at the play at the Arts Center? You can go with
whoever you want."
"Oh, Dave," she said, absurdly feeling a stinging in her eyes. It was
probably the sweetest thing anyone had done for her in a while, and
she'd especially needed it today. Her best friend sure knew how to
lift someone's spirits, and she was sorry she hadn't gotten to know
him much, much sooner. "I can't believe you did this for me, that you
spent all this time...and money. Why?"
"Why?" Dave asked, shocked as he placed his large hands on her slender
hips, holding her at arms' length. "I did it because I love you,
Abby. You, my mother, John...you guys are my family, and I love you.
Just...thought this was a nice way to show it."
She smiled softly, hardly remembering the last time someone had said
that to her. "I love you too, Dave."
Quickly, before the subject got too mushy for either of them, Dave
asked, "So who's the lucky man?"
"I'm looking at him." Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck,
hugging him tightly as she kissed him gently on the cheek, surprising
him. "I want to go with you."
"That's all we get?" The two friends separated and turned to see Chuny
and Amira standing in the doorway of the lounge, looking rather
disappointed. Suddenly, the Hispanic nurse grinned. "We were hoping
for a steamy wet one. Come on, Dave, I've never known you to be shy!"
"Oh, plea - " Abby began, but before she could get in another word,
Dave slipped his hands on either side of her face, pulling her into a
"steamy wet one," as requested by the two nosy ER staffers, who
immediately cheered as they got what they wanted. Abby quickly pushed
Dave away, however, laughing as she did so. "You're such a jerk."
"I know," he said, grinning. "A jerk that needs to go see some
patients before the Chief has his hide. Later, guys."
He left in a rush, leaving Abby to turn to the two other women, who
were still grinning madly. Shaking her head in disbelief, Abby asked:
"What did you two want, anyway? Besides to butt into my life."
"Oh, that was all," Amira replied, before grinning at Abby's scowl.
"I'm just kidding. Frank wants you; something about that kid,
Douglas?"
"Right, thanks," Abby said, quickly exiting the room and heading
towards Admin.
"Hey, Abby," Chuny called, before the nurse could get away. "Was it
good?"
"Was what good?"
"The kiss!" she exclaimed, as if it was ridiculous she didn't know
what she was asking about.
Abby grinned, in spite of herself. "He *is* one hell of a kisser."
Finally getting away, she moved towards the Admin desk, catching sight
of a little blonde boy sitting in Chairs. Douglas Leeman was a little
boy who no one could seem to find a parent of. Apparently, his mother
had been brought in last night with a headache, though it ended up
being a brain bleed, and she was already dead by the time they
discovered Douglas was her son. All morning Abby had been trying to
get Frank to contact another family member, which had been rather
difficult since the boy didn't know anything else besides where his
father lived. She was hoping right now as she spotted the desk clerk,
that he would know something about the little boy's family whereabouts
before he had to go into Social Services. "What is it Frank?"
"I reached his father, Mr. Leeman." The older man glanced at the
little boy, who was sleeping on a gurney nearby, and Abby immediately
softened, as she knew he must've wiped himself out from today's
events. "He's in Australia on business, but he can't leave until he
catches a red-eye tomorrow night. Someone's gotta call Social
Services, the kid can't stay here."
"I'll make the call," Abby grimly promised, brushing the hair out of
the boy's eyes. She knew Dave would be disappointed, who had been the
one helping her all morning with the little tyke, both of them
alternating between watching him in the ER to make sure he didn't get
into anything and didn't get hurt. And he'd seemed to have bonded with
Dave, whose charismatic ways had won the tot over almost the instant
they'd met.
"Abby! I need to ask you a question!"
"What else is new?" she muttered to herself as she turned to face one
Michael Gallant, recalling that practically all day the young medical
student had been asking her how to deal with his own patients. He
approached her hurriedly, holding a chart in her hand. "What is it,
Michael?"
"Does County General permit Psych transfers to other hospitals?" he
asked, and she cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, a silent plea to ask
him to elaborate, which he soon did. "I have a patient in Curtain
Three suffering from a scalp lac from a slip-and-fall, but he wants to
be moved from his room, and then have us call his caseworker at a
private hospital."
"Is he altered?" Abby asked, as she allowed Michael to lead her to
Curtain Area Three.
"No, but agitated," he replied.
"Did you call for a Psych consult?" she asked as they reached the
closed curtain. Almost immediately, she sighed as she realized from
his expression that he had done no such thing. "Then can you please do
that??" she instructed, and he quickly ducked out to do just that as
she pulled back the curtain, doing a double take when she saw whom the
patient was. It took all of her being not to blurt out the first thing
that came to mind, but obviously that was not enough, since she did
say it: "Oh, my God."
"The paramedics brought me to this hospital," Paul Sobriki said
hurriedly, as if he knew that this moment would come sooner or later.
"I didn't want to come here. If you just...please call my caseworker,
and - please, get me out of this room...could you do that? His phone
number is in my bag, I can get it and you can call him..."
She barely listened as she waited for her breath to return, which it
did after a beat. But she couldn't listen to him, she had to suddenly
leave this room as images flashed before her eyes, images of blood on
the floor and two bodies splayed there as well, images that made her
stomach lurch. And she fled, she ran as far away as she could, down
the hallway and outside into the ambulance bay, as if that alone would
allow her to leave this experience behind.
-------------------------------
Living your hell
Living your ghost
Living her end
-------------------------------
A hand on his back. A gentle hand, one that didn't startle him because
he knew whose it was, recognized it by now, after how many times it
had touched him and comforted his aching muscles. His back had been
hurting him a lot lately, but he didn't complain because there was
nothing that could be done; he'd ruined his chance at ever taking
another painkiller again. He tried to hide it too, as to not worry
anyone, but his lover noticed, such a perceptive man he was, despite
the label most people had put on him - including himself, until a few
months ago.
"Maybe you should take a break," Dave said then, gently massaging
John's back, who arched it in reply, urging him to continue. Dave was
so good at massages; one back rub late at night was all it took to
turn the older man's flesh to putty and guide him into peaceful sleep.
"I *am* taking a break," John replied, moaning softly as Dave's
fingers found a knot and worked easily to remove it. "Yeah, right
there..."
"Hiding in a supply closet for a few minutes isn't exactly what I call
a break."
"Yeah, well," John said, shrugging. "I'm getting a three-day break
this weekend."
"Don't remind me," Dave said murmured, following a trail of tense
muscles down John's back, his fingers finding the scars and tracing
them effortlessly though he couldn't see them. He knew them well
enough. "I'm already missing you..."
John smiled, though Dave couldn't see it since his back was to him.
Dr. Dave the romanticist. Who knew? Oh, and what they were talking
about? John's three-day conference in California held for emergency
room doctors all over the United States. Dr. Weaver, who had insisted
he go since he was the Chief Resident, had paid for everything even
before asking him, so, he'd had to. And he'd decided that it was only
three days, so he supposed Dave could live without him for that long,
though the younger man had insisted otherwise, even going so far as to
say he would die. John, however, had seen through his lies and told
him he'd be fine, though they both knew it'd be hard considering it
was technically their longest time away from one another since moving
in together.
And John was a little worried, because not only was this their longest
time away from one another, but it was also the first time they'd be
away from each other since Dave's overdose. What happened if Dave
needed him while he was gone? And what happened if he wasn't there,
and Dave thought his only option was to take something? Take enough
for John to receive a phone call all the way in California, telling
him that Dave was...? John shuddered just thinking about it, and had
even asked Abby to keep an eye on the younger man in his absence.
She'd complied, of course, intending to do that anyway because she
knew exactly how John was feeling.
"I took a break already today," John said, changing the subject before
it dampened either of their moods.
"Take another one," the Junior Resident said softly. "I'll cover for
you."
"You don't have to do that," John said, turning around to face the
younger man.
"I want to," he stated, his worry-filled eyes searching John's.
Suddenly, they narrowed. "Something else wrong?"
Perceptive indeed. "It's just...don't worry about it."
"John," Dave said, managing to sound insistent but exasperated at the
same time. "Please, just tell me what's wrong."
"I don't want to bother you. You have enough problems of your own..."
The minute the sentence came out of his mouth he regretted it, because
he knew that Dave would think it was an insult. He really should start
thinking before talking...
But instead of getting angry, Dave surprised John once again. "John,
I'm a fucking mess, and have been my entire life. And, to tell you the
truth, I don't see a time in my life when that's going to change," he
said, and John wanted to counter that but he didn't know what to say.
So, instead, he allowed Dave to go on, who hadn't been expecting a
reply to that. "But that doesn't mean that I don't care about people
and I don't want to help. Look, I know that most of the people in this
ER think that I'm a selfish, uncaring bastard, but I hope that you
know that that isn't true...and if I ever am so wrapped up in myself
to care about my family then I'm not the person I want to be. Now let
me help...don't make me kick your ass..."
So many things were running through John's head at that moment that he
didn't know what to say. Dave wasn't a mess. Well, he was, but that
didn't mean he couldn't change. And not everyone in the ER thought
that of him. Well, they did - except he and Abby- but that didn't mean
that couldn't change either. And had Dave just called him family? Most
of all, why was that suddenly making what John was about to say next
seem so miniscule? Could someone really have that kind of influence on
him?
"My parents are divorcing," he blurted out, if only to break his train
of thoughts before he forgot to reply.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dave immediately asked, hurt that John
hadn't relayed this information earlier, but more worried because he
knew what this would do to him.
"I don't know," he replied to that, shrugging. "It's all so
awkward...your parents don't divorce when you're thirty years old. And
now my mother's staying at the mansion, driving my grandmother nuts.
Driving *me* nuts. She actually thinks there's still a chance for her
and my dad, but...he's avoiding her. She thinks he's still in Kansas
City, but last time my dad called me he was in Denver...I told you,
it's screwed up."
There was a pause, as Dave tried to figure out what exactly to say to
that. "If there's anything I can do..."
"Just..." John moved close to him, pulling the younger man into an
embrace, hoping no one would choose that moment to come into the
supply closet for some meds or a suture kit. He didn't really care.
When you needed a hug, you needed a hug, especially when it was from
the one you loved. He soon separated, however, glancing up into Dave's
caring eyes. "Thanks."
Dave smiled. "Anytime. Now take a break and ice your back, or I'm
telling Weaver and she'll *make* you do it."
John grinned as they left the supply closet. "Who am I to argue with a
free break? But I hope you don't mind dealing with four extra patients
now."
"Bring it on," Dave replied, as they moved to Admin and approached the
patient board, so John could explain a brief synopsis of his patients
before he took a quick break. "Just know I can't administer narcotics
or anything...Weaver barely lets me use instruments."
"Hey, I remember the feeling," John joked, and Dave was almost
surprised because they'd never really mentioned the Chief Resident's
past addiction before. "It'll pass, Dave. Just be patient."
"Because you know that's one of my best qualities," he joked back,
grinning.
Dave considered himself screwed over as far as treating patients went.
Since coming back to work, Dr. Weaver had firmly stated that he could
not participate in traumas and strictly forbade him from administering
or prescribing any type of narcotics. He couldn't use needles or
tweezers or anything with a sharp edge - which didn't really make
sense to him, since he'd only been addicted to pills, but whatever.
Who was he to argue when he still had a job and a paycheck? He knew
how easily Weaver could've dumped him for stealing hospital
medications and working under the influence. But doing mostly Triage
and scutwork beat that fate, that was for sure.
"Hey, Malucci," he heard, breaking him from his thoughts, and he
looked to see Randi, armed with a magazine. "What's your sign?"
"I don't know..."
"Well, when's your birthday?"
"August fifteenth."
"Leo," she said, her eyes searching over the page before they landed
on what exactly it was she was looking for: "Leo's offer is
irresistible. Your heart sings a sweet song, equal parts yearning for
satisfaction, under the Gemini Moon. Tonight's dinner guest could
easily end up staying for brunch tomorrow." She glanced up then,
arching an eyebrow and smirking. "Wow...sounds like somebody is
getting lucky tonight. What about you, Carter? When's your birthday??"
"June fourth," he replied, his eyes skimming over the patient board
for his patients.
"Gemini..." She glanced up then, eyeing the two men suspiciously.
"Weird... Hey, Abby, what's your sign??"
"Hey," Dave said, his eye immediately catching something as he glanced
over the patient board. "I had a patient in Two...where the hell did
he go? And why was he moved??"
"I don't know," John replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. He
began to move toward Exam Two, his curiosity piqued. "I'll go check it
out. You go find our patient, meanwhile."
"Wait!" Abby called from her position at the Admin desk, approaching
John hurriedly. "Can you check on your patient with explosive
diarrhea?"
"Can't it wait?"
"He's pretty miserable."
"She," John corrected, bemused.
"I'll take it," Dave cut in, standing next to John, who still seemed
hesitant. "And I'll make a good impression on the other residents,
too, by checking out the guy in Two. You grab some ice down the hall
and take that break, or you'll have more than just Weaver to worry
about."
"Yes, sir," John said, ducking out and heading in the opposite
direction.
"Thank God," Abby breathed, relieved, and then glanced up at a puzzled
Dave. She sighed at that moment, her brow furrowing with worry, and he
could tell he wasn't going to like whatever it was she was about to
say before a word even escaped her lips. "We sort of have a
problem..."
-------------------------------
Never seem to get in the place that I belong
Don't wanna lost the time
Lose the time to come
-------------------------------
Dr. Susan Lewis wasn't really new to Cook County General Hospital,
since she'd been here for a long time before moving away five years or
so ago. But this hospital, not unlike herself, had gone through many
changes, and it was a shock to her to discover that half of the staff
she knew was gone, replaced by several others who she didn't know and
got a vibe from that they didn't particularly like her very much. Two
of which were Dr. Dave Malucci and his supposed girlfriend Nurse Abby
Lockhart, who were now inside of her patient's exam room, putting him
in tight restraints. Not to mention, they'd changed his room to Exam
Two without even telling her, causing her to look like a fool in front
of everyone at Admin after relaying that she'd lost her patient. If
these two weren't trying to disrespect her, then she wasn't sure she
wanted to find out what it would be like if they did.
"What's going on in here?" she asked now, standing in the doorway.
"Please," her patient was protesting loudly, as he glanced pleadingly
at the security guards, though they showed only indifference. "You
don't have to do that."
"What are you two doing?" Susan asked, her voice raising a notch.
"I've already seen Mr. Sobriki, that isn't necessary."
"Dr. Lewis, right?" Dave asked, as he glanced up from fixating one of
the restraints. He moved towards her, indicating outside of the
doorway. "Can I see you out in the hall?"
She took one look at him before dismissing him, refusing to comply
with anyone who moved her patients and put restraints on them without
consulting her first. Especially when they called themselves "Dr.
Dave." "Excuse me, Paul?" she asked then, stepping towards him, but he
began to speak before she could get another word out.
"Can you please get me my caseworker?" he implored, his expression
showing his desperation. "He's a psychiatrist, he's monitoring my
conditional release..."
"From where?" Susan asked, utterly confused by her two coworkers
exceptionally extreme behavior, especially when she'd already seen Mr.
Sobriki and he'd shown no signs of violent behavior. But before she
could get the answer, however, Dr. Dave took her by the arm and led
her outside of the room, Abby following close behind. "What is your
problem?" she snapped, once they were outside.
If Dr. Lewis thought that Dave didn't like her, then she was
absolutely right. She just rubbed him the wrong way, treating him as
if he were just some junior resident here to serve her and take all
the cases that she didn't want. And she treated Abby the exact same
way, using her as a scut slave, and, needless to say, the nurse didn't
like it either. Many a time had the two enjoyed poking fun at the
Attending, mocking her monotone-like voice and commanding each other
to do different tasks. Because this hospital may have worked like that
when she used to be around five years ago, but it sure didn't work
like that now, and no way in Hell were they going to let her get away
with it.
Plus, Dave was - though he would never admit it - a little jealous of
the previous eye of his present boyfriend's affection, and this mostly
fueled his detestation of her. He'd seen her the minute she'd stepped
into this hospital and into John's friendly embrace, stopping shortly
and quickly pulling out an x-ray he'd been holding, placing it in a
light box and pretending to study it while he inconspicuously watched
the two interact. Before long, he'd spotted Jing-Mei in passing,
quickly pulling her aside and asking: "Who's the blonde?"
"Where?" the oriental doctor had asked, following his line of vision.
"Oh. That's Dr. Lewis, she used to work here. Hey, I wonder what she's
doing back..."
"She got a thing for Carter or something?" he immediately asked.
"Not that I know of," she replied, then seemed to reconsider.
"Actually, I heard that way back when, he used to have the hugest
crush on her, and I think she even had a crush on him. But we were med
students and she was a resident, so..."
And thus had started Dave's inner desire to see Susan Lewis shipped
back to wherever she had spawned from. Arizona, was it? Who cared, as
long as she left and never came back. Especially with the way she
flirted endlessly with John, who seemed embarrassed every time,
especially when Dave was around. Man, sometimes he just felt like
walking right up to the Chief Resident and kissing him full on the
lips in front of that Lewis just to see the look on her face...
Now, the she-demon crossed her arms over her chest, her expression
showing her exasperation. Dave was about to speak - well, more like
yell - when Abby began talking, hoping to avoid any heated discussion
that could occur between the two potentially ornery doctors.
"Mr. Sobriki is schizophrenic," Abby stated, and then took a deep
breath before continuing, "He's the guy that stabbed Carter and killed
a med student two years ago."
"Him?" Susan asked, her arms uncrossing subconsciously as she glanced
inside the exam room and at her seemingly harmless patient. She turned
back to Abby and Dave, glancing between them. "He stabbed Carter?
What's he doing out?"
"We already called the police about it," Abby said, exchanging a look
with Dave. "We just want to get him out of here before Carter sees
him."
"Get him out of here?" Susan immediately asked, as if the notion was
ridiculous. "You mean transfer him?? I didn't get a head-CT yet, I
need to determine his status before I move him anywhere."
"What?" Dave asked, incredulous, and then shouted indignantly: "He
stabbed two people right down the hall!"
"I don't care what he did or who he is," Susan said, shaking her head
vehemently, "but I am *not* transferring a patient with a head wound
until I get a CT scan first!"
"Oh, please," Dave declared. "He doesn't need a CT scan, he fell down
on the sidewalk and bumped his head, for God's sake!"
"He was out for quite a few minutes, 'Dr. Dave,'" she said, the tone
in which she'd said his name suggesting he had no business even
attempting to treat patients, much less hers. "He could have
intercranial bleeding."
"Inter -- ??" he began to ask, but then stopped, hardly able to wrap
his mind around that. "Intercranial bleeding? You know his chances of
having an intercranial bleed are slim to none!"
"Regardless," Susan said, her own voice raised now, "I am not
transferring a patient with a head wound!! If he codes in the
ambulance on the way out, whose fault would that be? Or did you even
bother to think that far ahead?"
"You know, it's really great and all that you're being a doctor first
and a friend second," Dave said, glad for his habit of not thinking
before speaking right about now, "but does your friend side have to
come in such a *distant* second?? Jesus, you could at least pretend to
care!"
"Excuse me," Dr. Lewis interjected, clearly annoyed, "but I'm just
doing my job, here. Which has nothing to do with how much I do or do
not care about Carter."
"Have you even thought about how we feel looking at him?" Dave
continued, ignoring her previous statement because it seemed
irrelevant right now. "Do you have any idea what it was like to work
here that night? To work on two of your friends and then to have one
of them die, right on your table??" Okay, so it hadn't been *his*
table, but he'd worked on her. It still felt the same, somehow, as if
he'd done more something would've changed, she would still be alive.
He was sure the Chief felt that way too, and anyone else who had been
there that night. "Her name was Lucy Knight, and she was a great girl
and would have been a damn great doctor. She was bright, pretty, and
funny, and talented, and now because of that man she is dead. Let me
ask you this, 'Dr. Lewis.'" He referred to her name in the same
demeaning tone she'd used in his earlier. "Have you even thought about
what it could do to Carter if he finds out that that man is in this
hospital? Hmm?? Or did *you* even bother to think that far ahead?"
"Who are you to say - " Susan started, but Dave barely let her get
those few words out.
"Who am I?" he snapped, angry. "I'm Dr. Dave Malucci, and I was here
last time to pick up the pieces. Fuck, I still am. And when Carter
finds out that that psycho is here, he's going to lose it and he's
going to fall apart, and it'll be *your* turn then, but somehow I
doubt you're going to give a rat's ass. Live with *that*, Doctor!"
And with that, Dave turned sharply on his heel, walking away in hopes
to locate John and steer him clear of this room - this side of the
hospital, if he could. Because he knew what seeing Sobriki would do to
the older man, and while Dave would be there should that happen, with
some tact hopefully this encounter could be avoided. Keyword:
Hopefully.
"Jeeze," Susan breathed, one Malucci was out of earshot. She rolled
her eyes, sighing with disbelief. "What's up with him?"
"Yeah, really," Abby said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice,
surprising Susan. "You know, the least you could do is get started on
that CT as fast as you can."
"I got it," Susan groaned, moving back into the room.
"And Dave's right," Abby stated, but didn't clarify on exactly what.
"Make sure Carter doesn't see him!!"
"I got it!" Susan repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. Things
really *had* changed around here, hadn't they? "Okay, Mr. Sobriki,"
she said then, with a strained smile. "How about that head CT?"
-------------------------------
Whatever you say, it's all right
Whatever you do, it's all good
Whatever you say, it's all right...
-------------------------------
"Do you think this was such a good idea?" Abby whispered to Dave, as
they watched Douglas Leeman approach his dead mother charily.
"You suggested it," Dave replied. It obviously wasn't the answer she
was looking for however, as she pulled a face, so he looked back to
the little boy, saying: "We had to. He didn't believe us."
"I drew you a picture," they heard the little boy say softly to his
mother now, before leaning in close and whispering something in her
ear. The two ER staffers watched solemnly from the doorway, Dave's
brow furrowing and Abby smiling cautiously as Douglas kissed his
mother carefully. They exchanged glances then, both sighing silently,
before turning back to the boy.
"Ready to go, Douglas?" they heard from behind them, startling both
coworkers thoroughly, and they turned to see a stone-faced Dr. Weaver,
who looked anything but pleased. The two exchanged glances, knowing
what was coming next. "Why don't you go with Dr. DeRaad here, and he's
going to talk to you for a little while, okay?"
"Okay," the little boy said, and was about to leave the room with the
psychiatrist until he turned back to Dave and Abby with questioning
eyes. "I don't have to stay with him, do I? I can come back?"
"Sure thing," Abby replied, with the best smile she could muster right
about now. And then, standing close to her companion, she held her
breath, feeling Dave doing the same thing.
"What in the world were you two thinking when you brought that little
boy to the morgue??" she immediately asked, her usually soft features
contorted with anger and irritation. "Were you even thinking at all??"
"He didn't believe his mom was dead," Abby defended, trying to get Dr.
Weaver to see it from her point of view.
"You should've called a Psych consult then!" she pointed out,
gesturing down the hall to where Dr. DeRaad was speaking with Douglas.
"Maybe someone should've called a Psych consult when his mother was
first brought in," Dave muttered under his breath, just loud enough
for his boss to hear it.
"She vagaled in triage!" she exclaimed. "No one told me she had a
kid."
"Did you ask?"
"Dave." Abby, warning him quietly, with a gentle tug at the back of
his sleeve. But he was just so sick and tired of Weaver making excuses
for herself, and when another person had a legitimate claim, of course
it was cast aside because the redheaded tyrant was the only one who
could be right.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, Dr. Malucci, because
you are already skating on very thin ice." Of course he was. Of
course. "Did you at least call Social Services?"
"We're trying to find another relative," Abby interjected before Dave
could answer, and he thanked her silently for that because he knew it
would've contained quite a few four-letter words.
"And how long are you going to try before you call?" Weaver snapped,
glancing between the two coworkers. "Two days? Three?"
"Don't you think the kid's been through enough today?" Dave asked, his
voice edged with annoyance. "We just thought it might not be the best
for him to spend another night with strangers."
"You're an expert at this, now, Dr. Malucci? That's funny, because I
thought you were an ER resident," she said haughtily, and cut him off
before he could get in another word: "You know how to do Social
Services' job?" And when he didn't reply: "Do you??"
She just had to do this every time, didn't she? "No...but..."
"Then suck it up and call them, because their holding facility is a
lot better than the ER - or the morgue, for that matter," she said,
turning sharply and walking away from them, heading towards Dr. DeRaad
and Douglas, who followed her out. "Call them, now!!" she called back,
infuriating the young resident even more.
"Skating on thin ice," he repeated, incredulous, as he placed his
hands on his waist. Abby had seen him do that several times before,
and knew that each time he did he was angry, so she kept her distance,
letting him get it all out because sometimes that was the best thing
to do. "She knew she'd get me with that one, she knew it. Just because
I fucked up once means I can't do anything right anymore, does it??"
"Dave, you didn't fuck up," Abby said, touching his arm and rubbing it
comfortingly.
"I killed someone, Abby," he replied to that, his voice so serious it
almost startled her. He stopped moving then, trying to look away from
her because he knew his eyes gave away all of his emotions, and he
knew that right now they'd let her know just how regretful he was. "I
killed someone and then I stole drugs because I couldn't handle all
the pressure. You can't change that, you can't fix it. And Weaver sure
as hell knows that and isn't going to let me forget it."
"Do you want me to talk to her?" Abby suggested.
"What?" Dave asked, incredulous. "No, I don't want you to talk to her.
I can take care of myself."
"Obviously."
"What's that supposed to mean??"
"Nothing," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I was just
trying to help you, but if you don't want it, fine." She turned then,
stalking off, but not before tossing over her shoulder: "And it
wouldn't hurt to accept it once in a while, either, Dave."
"Abby, I - " He sighed, realizing she wasn't listening, and then
glanced up at the heavens, outstretching his arms in a pleading
manner. "I'm being punished, aren't I?"
-------------------------------
Silence is not the way
We need to talk about
If heaven is on the way...
If heaven is on the way...
-------------------------------
"Abby." The nurse, who had been watching Douglas sitting alone in the
waiting room, turned away from the little boy and glanced towards
Haleh expectantly. "Can you grab me a couple two-by-fours and bring
them into Trauma Two? No one told me to restock and now they're
complaints." She shook her head disdainfully, as she began walking
towards said room, several supplies in her arms. "Doctors..."
Remembering seeing suture kits near Sutures, she used that as an
excuse to get close to Sobriki and see what was going on, since Susan
had made it clear earlier that he was her patient and no one else was
to bother him. Rolling her eyes at the incredulous doctor, Abby headed
down that way just to see the woman conversing with who she assumed to
be his caseworker.
"...Was found not guilty by reason of insanity," he was saying, as
Abby reached inside a supply cart and pretended to be casually
searching for something, though she kept her ears trained on the two
behind her. "After making great strides with his recovery, he was
placed in a less restrictive facility. Ten months later, he was put on
conditional release."
"He's agitated," Susan said then, worriedly.
"He's just nervous," the man assured her. "All he did was slip and
fall, and suddenly he's back at the scene of the crime. Anyone would
feel the same way."
"Excuse me?" Abby said, her curiosity getting the better of her as she
approached the two. "Why did he get out in two years?"
"Who are you??"
Abby blinked in surprise at his rudeness, taken slightly aback before
regaining her composure and snapping rather defensively: "I was
working? When he attacked my friends?"
"I'm sorry," the man immediately apologized, nodding as if he
understood her pain and knew what she and the rest of the ER had gone
through that night. "Mr. Sobriki was a law student, and since he was
progressing extremely well on his medication, a professor at his
school did some pro bono work and gained an early release on a writ of
habeas corpus."
Now, Abby didn't know much about legal terms, but she did know what
"habeas corpus" meant: it released Sobriki from unlawful restraint.
But was it really unlawful restraint when he killed someone? Abby felt
like screaming, though she kept it to herself. She glanced at Susan
for some sort of confirmation that she was thinking the same thing,
but the older woman only glanced at her patient, who seemed harmless
enough, but hadn't he also on the day he stabbed two people??
"I know what you're thinking - " the man tried to explain.
"Really," Abby seethed.
"Most schizophrenics aren't violent at all - "
"This one was, wasn't he??"
"If they are, they usually aren't twice," he stated, his words edged
with anger. "He's not a danger to himself, or others - not on his
meds. There are safeguards in place."
She wanted to yell at them all. At the man for thinking he knew all
about what had happened that Valentine's Day as if he'd experienced it
first hand. He didn't know what it had been like to hear that two of
your friends had been stabbed and they needed you to help them. He
didn't know what it had been like to be in that trauma room trying to
save your coworker's life, knowing that it all depended on you and the
few other rooms. He didn't fucking know, and yet here he was telling
her that everything was fine and she had nothing to worry about. And
don't even get her started on Susan, who seemed to have the hugest
crush on Carter but wasn't taking a single consideration with him in
mind. Sure, she wasn't here too, but couldn't she at least seem
compassionate??
Deciding that perhaps yelling is exactly what she was going to do,
Abby opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a certain
Michael Gallant, with yet *another* problem. "Abby? A Foley's
overflowing..."
"Clamp it!" she spat.
"I did! It's overflowing."
"God damn it!" she exclaimed, visibly startling Susan. She began to
move towards Gallant and his patient in turmoil - for about the
fiftieth time that day. "Just get Sobriki the fuck out of this
hospital, that's all I'm asking! Why is that so hard??"
"I want his restraints removed!"
Abby stopped dead in her tracks, taking a deep breath to calm herself
before turning around. "No. Not until he's out of this hospital."
"He's lucid," the man persisted, taking a step closer to Abby. "The
guard outside will suffice. He needs reassurance and respect right
now."
"Respect??"
"Yes!!"
"Abby," Susan said firmly, leading the nurse away from Sutures and
back towards Gallant. "I've got this covered, but thank you."
Sighing, she walked with Gallant towards Trauma Two, looking every bit
as pissed off as she felt. Catching a flash of blue scrub top out of
the corner of her eye, Abby glanced up to see Dave heading towards
Exam Two. "Dave! Dave!" Glancing up at her, she waved him over and he
rushed to her, sensing her urgency.
"Abby, the Foley's overflowing," Gallant reminded her.
"I know that, thank you," Abby snapped, keeping her attention focused
on the approaching Dave.
"What's wrong?" he immediately asked. "Need help with a patient?"
"No, it's Sobriki," she said, but not before quickly glancing around
to make sure Carter wasn't in earshot. Still worried, however, she
pulled her companion into Trauma Two with Gallant. "Here, fix this
Foley."
"Am I supposed to get the connection between the two?" Dave asked, as
he glanced briefly over Gallant's shoulder, who was still attempting
to fix the overflowing Foley. "No, you have to clamp it like
this...look, watch. Now you try it. Yeah, like that."
"Is it the fertility drugs that are messing up my system?" the woman
on the gurney asked, while trying to see what Gallant was doing.
"Uh...I'm not sure," Dave replied honestly. "But whoever's treating
you should have a good idea on that when your labs get back, okay?"
"Dave, Dr. Lewis won't discharge Sobriki," Abby blurted out, causing
the younger man to glance up with curiosity and slight agitation. "She
hasn't got the head CT read yet since Radiology is backed up, and she
won't discharge him until she gets it."
"Why doesn't she go up and get it?" Dave asked, angry. "You know what?
I'll get it for her. And I'm going to kick everyone's ass in Radiology
while I'm up there."
"Guys," they heard from the doorway, to see Chuny sticking her head
into the room with a compassionate glance. "Weaver's on warpath about
calling Social Services for that kid. She's got about six of us nurses
trying to hunt you two down, so you'd better do it before she starts
looking for you herself."
"I'll do it," Abby offered, exchanging a glance with Dave. "You go up
to Radiology. And, please, refrain from kicking everyone's ass." She
suddenly grinned. "Save some for me..."
Moving outside of the trauma room together, Abby moved to the
telephone nearby and dialed Social Services, as Dave moved down the
hall to go up to Radiology. His stride suddenly faltered before he
stopped completely, and Abby glanced up to see what had caught his
interest: the caseworker was talking calmly with Sobriki's wife, who
was also holding the child she'd bore while her husband was locked up
in a mental institution.
"Hey, Abby," she heard, and turned in horror to see John lean against
the wall in front of her, a grin on his face. Over his shoulder, she
saw Dave turn around fast, recognizing his boyfriend's voice. "The
diarrhea patient's doing fine. All she needed was some Compazine and
then she was on her way."
"Uh, yeah," Abby said, exchanging a glance with Dave as they both
spied Sobriki being wheeled into the hallway. Quickly, Dave approached
and wrapped his arm over John's shoulder, turning him so that his back
was facing the hall and the Sobriki family, grinning widely and
saying: "Hey, John, what's say the three of us go out tonight? We
could, uh...go to The Game Room."
"You know we can't drink," John reminded him, eyeing the younger man
suspiciously, who was suddenly acting very strange, fidgeting and
stuttering.
"Right, yeah, well, uh," he tried again, and suddenly began to hear
Sobriki talking softly to his child, so he began to speak louder,
trying to cover their voices with his own. "We could go to, uh, just a
restaurant, right? How about Doc's even? No, no, what about, uh...what
about..."
He felt John go rigid beside him, and immediately knew that their
attempts at shielding him from Sobriki had failed. The older man
seemed as if he were about to vomit, before he turned to Dave, his
glazed eyes begging him to prove him wrong even though he already knew
who was behind him. Pulling away from Dave, several expressions washed
over his face in a split second, but Dave recognized them all: fear,
anger, hurt, disbelief, and just the slightest bit of betrayal.
Betrayal. Oh, God, he hoped John would for give him for this.
"John," he said quietly, exchanging a guilty glance with Abby, but the
Chief Resident only turned slowly, his reddening eyes locking on
Sobriki's frame.
"They put you in restraints," his wife, Samantha, said softly, gently
touching one with her fingertips, her hand clasping into her husband's
afterwards.
"It's just a precaution," he replied soothingly, clasping her hand
back. "They're a little paranoid..." As if sensing him, the man then
turned, making eye contact with John Carter for the first time in two
years. "Oh...it's you," he said, surprised, though John only stood
there silently, not moving a muscle. "I'm sorry."
He was sorry? He was sorry, so that made it okay?? That was all that
mattered, that Sobriki, the man that had brutally stabbed him and his
medical student - killing her - was sorry. He was saying something
now, but John wasn't listening, could barely comprehend what the man
was saying, though he knew it had something to do with proving he was
fine now, as if that would make everything all better, make the scars
- physical and emotional and mental - just disappear, and everything
would be back to the way it used to be.
John shook his head bitterly. He was sorry...
"What are you doing here?" John breathed then, unable to listen to
Sobriki any further.
"He slipped and fell outside of his office building," his wife
explained.
"You're out?" John immediately spat, his fear turning to anger and
hatred.
"I'm sorry," he pleaded, repeating the words that John couldn't get
out of his head now. "That wasn't me who did that to you, to your
friend. You know that, right? You're a doctor, you know it's a
disease." He was sorry... "I'm being treated," the man persisted. "I'm
okay now."
Swallowing hard, incredulous, sickened by those words and struggling
to keep his composure, John could only manage to say, the words choked
by his quickly closing throat: "Great. Glad you're okay."
Turning sharply on his heels, John moved down the hallway with quick
strides, ignoring Dave as the younger man called out to him, going
after him. The knife was in his back, he could feel it piercing his
skin and his internal organs, severing his body in what felt like two.
And then again, damaging whatever it hadn't the first time. He was
falling then, screaming for someone to help him as he studied the
blood on his hand, though he knew he would've found it there if he
hadn't looked anyway. And the song was playing now, the same one that
had played at the moment he'd been stabbed, the moment he'd fallen to
the floor in a painful heap only to see Lucy there as well, bloodied
and struggling to stay conscious. But none of that mattered, since
Sobriki was sorry, since he was better now, because that made everyone
better and made everything that had happened since then just one big
joke to be laughed at.
Ha fucking ha.
Quickly, dodging away from Dave, who was still calling out his name,
John burst into the bathroom, making sure no one was inside before
practically slamming and locking the door in Dave's face, who took a
step back in surprise and stared at the nondescript door, as if that
alone would make it open. He began knocking, hoping that his lover
would open the door so he could talk to him and comfort him, just as
the older man had done for him several times before.
"John," he said, his voice laced with worry, as Abby approached
cautiously. To her, he said: "He won't let me in...he's not even
answering." Then, turning back to the bathroom door, he knocked once
again, pleading softly, "John, would you let me in? Please, open the
door...please?"
He flinched as the only response he received was the harsh sounds of
the older man vomiting violently.
-------------------------------
You were in the sea
On the decline
Breaking the waves
-------------------------------
"Excuse me?" Dave Malucci wasn't having the best day, and right now
the Junior Resident wasn't in the mood to hear anyone ask him for
anything, especially when he was finally off. So, he attempted to
brush off the woman bugging him, but she persisted, grabbing the
sleeve of his tee shirt as he attempted to get into the Lounge and
away from her. "Dr. Malucci, right? I have something for you."
His curiosity piqued, he turned and finally took a look at the blonde
woman, who he immediately recognized: it was Sobriki's wife. What was
her name? Sarah? Sandy? Sally? Samantha. But he didn't say anything,
just cast her a withering glance, hoping to get across that he didn't
exactly feel like talking with her right now - or ever, for that
matter. But his hopes were dashed instantly, as she held out a folded
piece of paper.
"I wanted to give this to your friend myself, but I have to drive Paul
home," she stated, as he took the note warily from her hand. He nodded
then, beginning to turn and walk away from her when she stopped him
once more. "They wouldn't have released him if he weren't better. He's
taking his meds, he's in therapy. He has a disease, but it's being
treated. That's what you do here - you treat diseases so that people
can try to move on with life."
"I'm glad that Paul's moving on," he stated pointedly, knowing she
could read between the lines. Because John certainly wasn't fine, and
would probably never get over this. He'd almost been killed, for God's
sake, not to mention the fact that he'd practically watched his
medical student die on that floor in the exam room.
"He's my husband. We're his family," she continued, her eyes pleading
with him. Dave realized then that she was trying to convince herself
as much as she was he. And while he felt some sort of pity for her, he
couldn't allow himself to feel anything more. It wouldn't seem fair to
John. "You understand, right?"
"How could I?" he asked, logically.
"I mean...you and Dr. Carter are close, aren't you? If something
happened to him, you would stick by him, wouldn't you?" she asked
softly, before glancing up into his eyes. She seemed to be waiting for
a reply but he didn't give one, so she looked down once more, taking a
step back and brushing her hair behind her ear. "I just...I can't give
up on him."
"Good luck," he simply stated, because, for once in his life, Dave
Malucci was speechless.
-------------------------------
Watching the lights go down
Letting the cables sleep
-------------------------------
"Abby!"
She immediately recognized the small voice of Douglas Leeman, and
glanced up from her walk to the Lounge to see a social worker
attempting to wrest the little boy from his seat in Chairs. He
immediately burst from the man and ran into her arms, fragile tears
running down his cheeks as he gripped her clothes with tiny, desperate
fists.
"Douglas, don't worry," she said, smoothing back his hair in an
attempt to soothe his fears. "You'll be fine. You just need to sleep
and eat, and take a nice bath..."
"But I want to stay here, with you! And Dr. Dave!" he said, and then
glanced around the ER. "Where's Dr. Dave? He'll let me stay! Will you
let me stay, Abby? I can stay here, with you!"
"I don't stay here all the time, honey, and neither does Dr. Dave,"
she explained, trying to disentangle herself from the boy's
death-grip. "But you can come visit us whenever you want, Douglas, I
promise."
"Abby!" he wailed, as the social worker snatched him up, carrying him
outside. "Abby, wait! I want to stay here! I'll stay with you! Abby!
Please!!"
"You'll be fine, Douglas, your dad will be here in the morning..." she
called out, putting a hand to her lips as she felt her voice catch in
her throat. She sighed then, running a hand through her gradually
growing brown hair, damning herself for getting so attached to that
boy. At least Dave hadn't been here for that; she remembered him
telling her about that boy from a few months ago, the one case that
had started his whole addiction. He didn't need to see this,
especially since he would have to inevitably deal with John later.
"Hey, Abby." Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves before she
strangled the poor medical student, Abby turned to an unsuspecting
Michael Gallant. "I have this patient in three, and..."
"I am not your Attending," she interrupted him through clenched teeth,
causing him to step back with surprise. "I am not a resident. I am a
nurse. You want me to assess a patient, push meds, check vitals, or
explain a situation to a family? That's fine. What I will *not* do is
carry you through med school. You want to be a doctor?? Start acting
like one!"
Taken aback, Michael gaped at her for a moment, before nodding and
excusing himself, embarrassed as he walked away with his head down.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Abby stood there for a moment,
feeling a little guilty but too worried about everything to
contemplate it further.
"Ouch. What'd he do to deserve that?" Dave Malucci asked, coming up to
stand beside her. "He better watch it, or else another moment like
this'll ruin all his pants."
She couldn't help but let out a laugh, grinning up at him, thankful
for the relief if not at least for a few moments. "He's just been
bothering me all day, and I should've stopped him before it got this
far. Hey, you heading out?"
"Yeah, I'm off. Finally," he added, sighing as he hitched his knapsack
higher on his shoulder. He glanced towards Chairs then, as if
realizing something was missing, before turning back to her, his brow
furrowed in concern. "Where'd Douglas go?"
"Social Services came and took him," Abby replied, quickly looking
away.
"Did it go okay?" Dave asked, as he began to fidget.
"Yeah," Abby said too quickly, her facial expression saying otherwise.
"Lair," he stated, catching her eye. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine..."
"Lair," he repeated, touching her cheek, causing her to look up at him
once more. "You should have come and found me. You know, I still don't
see why Weaver wouldn't let him stay here until tomorrow. She can be
such a bitch sometimes...most of the time. All of the time, really."
"I know," Abby agreed, sighing.
"Hey, have you seen John?"
"He's avoiding you too?"
"Big time," Dave replied, nodding. He seemed to remember something
then, as he reached inside his jeans' pocket and pulled out a folded
slip of paper. "Sobriki's wife gave this to me, wanted me to give it
to John. I was going to give it to him before I left, but..."
"I'll see if I can track him down," Abby said, taking it from him.
"Are you going to wait for his shift to end?" she asked, remembering
their shifts ended only about forty-five minutes apart.
"Nah," he said, his eyes directed at the floor. "I'm gonna go home and
wait up for him. Why? You think I should wait here for him?"
"No, go home," she assured him, rubbing his arm comfortingly. "He
probably just wants to be alone right now. Don't worry yourself, it'll
be okay."
"I hope so," he stated, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He suddenly
grinned, saying dryly: "Hey, happy Birthday, huh?"
"This is definitely one to remember," she agreed, nodding.
"Definitely..."
"You deserved to have a better one, Abby," he said, before he kissed
her on the forehead. It was a rare act of affection, something he
didn't show even when they were alone, and she found herself blushing,
as she was aware of the many curious eyes on them. "Sorry this one
sucked."
"Goodnight, Dave," she said, still blushing as she smiled into her
chest. "And good luck."
"Thanks," he said then, stepping away from her and heading towards the
ambulance bay. "I think I'm going to need it."
-------------------------------
Whatever you say, it's all right
Whatever you do, it's all good
Whatever you say, it's all right...
-------------------------------
Angry. That was what John Carter had resorted to now, because he knew,
rationally, that there was nothing to be afraid of. He also knew,
rationally, that he could not hate Paul Sobriki because in reality -
medically, as well - the attack hadn't been his fault. He also hated
self-pity, because that had achieved him nothing in the past except an
addiction to narcotics. So, he couldn't be afraid, he couldn't hate
anybody, and he couldn't feel sorry for himself because he might,
consequently, want to do something he'd later regret. Therefore, he
was left with angry.
Angry at what? He wasn't even sure right now, as he brusquely hung up
his lab coat in his locker. He was certainly angry at a God he wasn't
even sure he believed in anymore. He was certainly angry at Abby and
Dave for trying to keep this from him, though he knew, in the back of
his mind, that they'd only been trying to protect him. He was
certainly angry at the EMTs for bringing Sobriki here in the first
place. Hell, he was angry at every single person in this hospital and
then some. He was angry at himself too. Because, Goddamn it, it was
two years ago and he's over it. Isn't he?
"Lewis discharged Sobriki," he heard from next to him, startling him
slightly. Glancing to his left, he saw Abby standing there with a
folded slip of paper in her slender fingers, looking apologetic.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Uh...listen...Sobriki's wife
wanted me to give you this. Actually, she gave it to Dave, but since
you're avoiding him he asked me to give it to you. He's also waiting
for you at home."
"Guess you couldn't protect me from her, either, huh?" he snapped, not
even giving the note a second glance and ignoring the topic of Dave
totally.
"I'm sorry," she said, sincere, as she tucked the note inside of his
locker. "We were just - "
"Don't worry about it," he stated, cutting her off bitterly.
"Why don't we go out for dinner or coffee, or something?" she asked,
hating to leave things between them like this. And perhaps if she
calmed him down slightly before he went home, he wouldn't take this
out on Dave. God knew both of them didn't need any of this right now.
"No, I think I'm just going to go home," he said, slamming his locker
closed, startling her. He turned towards her then, looking at her
matter-of-factly. "Dave's waiting for me, remember?"
"John," she sighed, but he simply walked away from her, heading out of
the Lounge abruptly, not even glancing back.
-------------------------------
Silence is not the way
We need to talk about
If heaven is on the way
We'll wrap the world around it
-------------------------------
Dave's eyes flickered open as he heard a door open and close. He was a
light sleeper, and occasionally thankful for it, this moment being one
of those times. He'd been sitting on the couch, trying to stay up and
wait for John, but he must've dozed off because he knew from the
direction the sound had come from it'd been the bedroom door, which
meant John was home. And he'd had to have seen him on the couch, but
just remained silent enough to slip past him and into the bedroom.
Damn it.
Standing, Dave crossing the living room to the hallway, cautiously
following it to their closed bedroom door. He could see the light
shining underneath it and hear the older man inside, indicating that
John was very much awake. Quietly, he pushed the door open, watching
the older man change into his sweats from the doorway for a moment,
knowing that John was aware he was there.
"Hey," Dave finally said softly.
John barely glanced at him. "Hey."
"John..." Stepping further into the room, Dave took a deep breath,
picking up a paperweight from the nearby desk and playing with it in
his hands, fidgeting like he always did when he was nervous. "Look,
I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but we were just trying to - "
"Dave," he interrupted, glancing up at him with a glare that
immediately cast the younger man's eyes to the floor. "I really don't
want to talk about this right now. Can we just go to sleep?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied, moving to his side of the bed and slipping
slowly under the covers. While his body was thankful for the relief,
his mind was still wrapped around John, worrying about his lover. He
hoped he was okay...and if he wasn't, would he let Dave comfort him?
The lights were off a moment later, the room absurdly dark, and he
felt the mattress dip as the older man joined him on the bed, though
he kept his distance. "Goodnight..."
"Yeah," was the only reply he received, causing Dave to sigh silently
in desperation. Jesus, didn't John see that he was sorry? But
obviously, he didn't, when Dave heard a few moments later: "Would you
stop it?"
"What?"
"I can feel you watching me," he snapped. "Just leave me alone, I'm
not going to break, damn it."
"I'll turn around then," Dave retorted, as he did just that. "Excuse
me for fucking caring."
John sighed as he heard the audible hurt in his companion's voice.
Damn it, he didn't want to be mad at Dave, and he really wasn't, but
he was just so fazed by all of this he didn't know how to act right
now. "Dave..." he began, trying to put everything into words as he
heard the younger man turn towards him in the darkness, but he was
feeling so much he didn't know where to start, so instead, he found
himself moving close to the younger man, hugging him tightly and
finding comfort in it, even though he initiated it. And he began to
speak, rambling inanely because if he didn't do something he was
afraid he was going to cry. And his lover - his perceptive, wise lover
- knew this, understood this, and allowed him to. "I'm sorry, Dave, I
know what you and Abby did, that you only did it to protect me, but
just seeing him there, it took me right back there, right back in
Curtain Three, and just thinking about that, it made me so sick, Dave,
so angry and sick, and I just...I just...oh, God, it's just...not
fair, it's so not fair..."
"I know...I know..." he said, as he held John tightly back, rubbing
his back soothingly in an attempt to get him to calm down. He wasn't
sure what to say, or what to do, so he blurted out the first thing
that came to mind and the only thing he'd been thinking all night: "I
know it's not fair, but maybe it's better that way, because...if it
was, then something might justify what happened to you, and if...if
something justified that...I don't want anything to justify that,
John, nothing, because it was so horrible and...I just...am I making
any sense?"
"Yes," John said, tightening his arms around the Junior Resident,
before brushing his lips over the younger man's softly, lovingly. He
eased out of the kiss, burying his face in Dave's chest, blocking out
whatever may lay outside of this bed - Sobriki, Lucy, the stabbing,
his addiction, all of today - because this was the only place he
wanted to be right now.
-------------------------------
If heaven is on the way...
-------------------------------
Abby Lockhart walked down her street, heading home from work, the
bitter cold biting at her cheeks and any other part of her skin that
was exposed - not that her clothes helped much in this below-freezing
weather. Today had absolutely sucked, the only good part being Dave
giving her a present, but that had only lasted for a few moments. If
she'd only known what today would bring, she wouldn't have left her
bed, that was for sure. Life was like that a lot, for anyone, really.
Staggering towards her apartment building, she climbed the frozen
steps, careful not to slip and end up right in the place she worked,
and finally made it to her door. If she just went to bed, everything
would be fine tomorrow. It had to be. But, unfortunately, that wasn't
possible just yet, because, as luck would have it, her door was stuck
from the cold.
"Damn it!" she shrieked, before glancing up at the heavens. "Why me?!
What did I ever do to you, huh??"
As if to answer her, the door suddenly pulled open from the inside,
her neighbor Joyce standing in the lobby. "I'm guessing it's going to
stay cold for a while," the young woman said, as soon as Abby was
inside and grabbing her daily mail. "I warned my husband that January
wasn't the best time to move, but that's when his semester starts.
He's in law school."
"Oh," Abby replied, before spying a six-pack of beer bottles on the
floor next to Joyce, who was sitting on the stairs. "Are you locked
out?"
"Fight," she said, smiling ruefully. "I went to the store to pick up
some beer to pass the time. Matthew will be asleep in an hour or
so..."
Abby simply nodded, joining her on the steps, and they began to make
small talk: Abby was from Minnesota, Joyce was from Idaho - "the
potato part, not the white-supremacist part." Then, suddenly, the
young woman held up a bottle of beer. "You look like you've had a long
day. Want one?"
"Thanks..." Abby took the beer hesitantly, already feeling guilty. How
many times had she dreamed of doing this during her six years of
sobriety? Was she really going to throw that out the window tonight,
right now? Was it really worth it, even after the day she'd had? She
raised the bottle to her lips, the smell reaching her nostrils and
already bringing back the rush of being blind drunk and just letting
it all go...
"Hey, that's a birthday card," Joyce said suddenly, breaking Abby from
her thoughts, and she immediately put the beer back down in her lap.
"Is it your birthday today?"
"Yeah," Abby replied, smiling slightly, though there was hardly any
humor in it.
"Here," Joyce said, holding up her beer and clinking necks with Abby,
"is to you making it through another year."
"Happy Birthday to me," the nurse said sardonically, right before she
took a sip.
-------------------------------
I'm a stranger in this town...
-------------------------------
To be continued...
Copyright Footer', 'This site is not affiliated in any way with "ER", its writers or production company, or NBC, and makes no profit from the show. The ERROS skin is by Brihana. The script is eFiction version 3.4.2© Tammy Keefer, http://efiction.org\r\n