------------------------------- 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.
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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.
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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.
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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
-------------------------------
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