------------------------------- Chapter Six: Push Rewind -------------------------------
7am;
The garbage truck beeps as it backs up
And I start my day thinking about what I've thrown away
-------------------------------
Dr. John Carter lie on his back, his arms outstretched directly above his face, holding the metal weights in the air. He held them there for a few moments, holding his breath as well, and then exhaled as he lowered them to his sides. A fresh breeze passed over him, managing to cool down his sweating body somewhat; it was a nice day in the fall, just perfect for going outside and doing something recreational, such as lifting weights, as he was doing right now in his backyard.
Letting his mind wander, it traveled back to a place it had been since yesterday: Randi explaining to him that Dave was upset. When he said he'd known that Dave was angry, the young desk clerk had explained that he wasn't just *angry*, he was upset. But when encouraged to elaborate, she couldn't even come up with anything besides "I don't know." She'd even said he'd know better then she would, and what bothered him was that he didn't. And what bothered him even more was that he wanted to, because usually he wouldn't have given Dave or the younger man's problems a second thought. In fact, he'd always just assumed that "Dr. Dave" didn't have any problems at all.
"Are you all right?" he heard his grandmother ask, pulling him from his thoughts. He slightly turned his head to look at her from his seat on the flat lounge chair, a smile on his lips due to her concern for her grandson. It vanished as soon as he saw she was holding an aspirin and a glass of water. "I was wondering if you wanted some aspirin. I know your back has been troubling you lately."
"Thanks, Gamma, but no thanks," he said as he raised his arms again in the air, pausing as he held them there. His back was sending a dull ache through his body right now, but he didn't want to take the aspirin only because then he'd be admitting that it *was* bothering him. And the last thing he wanted to do was bother his Gamma. He glanced at her worried expression. "I don't need it. I just need to exercise a bit, and I'll be fine."
"What you need is to see my orthopedist," she stated as she placed the glass of water on the patio table, leaving the aspirin in case John changed his mind about not wanting it. "I'm making you an appointment today."
"I'm covering a half-shift today."
"Then tomorrow," she pressed.
"Gamma, I don't need to see your doctor," he said, shaking his head as he placed the weights on the ground next to him, and then sat up.
"Your back is nothing to trifle with," Gamma advised, wagging a disapproving finger at him. "You don't want to end up with a hunch like Uncle Everett."
John tossed her a look, displaying his exasperation. "This isn't orthopedic, Gamma. I was stabbed," he reminded her.
"I know that, John," she reminded *him*. "All the more reason to take care of yourself." He let out a sigh as she held out the glass to her, but when he went to take it from her, her hand jerked subtly and the glass fell to the ground, shattering. "Oh, sorry!"
"That's okay, Gamma," he said, stopping her before she could bend down to pick it up. "I'll get it."
"No! Don't move!" she exclaimed, startling him. He looked up at her, puzzled. "You have no shoes on!"
"All a part of my ninja training," he said with a smile, throwing his feet over the side of the lounge chair.
His grandmother glanced at her grandson, her turn to be puzzled. "Your what?"
-------------------------------
Could I push rewind?
The credits traverse, signifying the end
-------------------------------
Dr. Dave walked through the hallways of Cook County General, heading towards an exam room where he'd been told Dr. Finch could be found. He glanced at the chart he was holding, which he was tossing back and forth between his hands.
Since Monday, his mood had increased slightly, though not by much. But at least he wasn't lashing out at everyone for no apparent reason anymore, as he had been a few days ago. Now, he kept to himself, doing what he was told when he was told to do it, throwing in a few sarcastic remarks here and there just to keep up the fa�ade so people wouldn't be too concerned. When people were concerned, they started asking questions, and he didn't want anyone to ask anything about him.
On that note, Dave considered the fact that John Carter knew about his past - or some of it, anyway. The only person he'd ever confided in had let him down terribly, going from friends to something more and now...now they weren't anything, just coworkers. What if John told someone else about Dave's past? Would the older man do that, on spite for the way Dave had cussed at him in the trauma room on Monday? No, John wasn't that kind of person...
But then again, Saturday night, Dave had thought John wasn't the kind of person to lead him on in such a way to think something could actually be happening romantically between them, and then in the light of the morning change his mind. He was almost sure that John wasn't that kind of person - in fact, he had been positive that he wasn't that type of person.
And he'd been wrong about that, so could he be wrong about this too?
Putting that thought aside for now, Dave pushed open the door to the dark exam room, save the single examination light, and saw Cleo and Dr. Benton hovering over an unconscious patient. He flashed a smile, knowing Cleo would probably be glad to have a patient off of her hands. "Hey, Cleo. I reduced your prolapsed rectum."
"You what?" she asked, her features twisting into annoyance instead of a smile, as he'd hoped. "You treated my patient?"
"The girl was in a lot of pain," he explained. She was angry with him? He'd just helped her out! What the hell was *her* problem? "So I used my sugar trick."
"Sugar trick?" she asked, exchanging a glance with Dr. Benton.
"Yeah," he said, displaying with his hands: "Sprinkle it on, water escapes from the mucosa, the edema subsides, and" - sound effect added - "pop that puppy back in."
"You should've let me look at it first, Malucci," Dr. Benton said, frowning as he paused in his suturing. Dave glanced at him. Jeeze, sue a guy for trying to help a person out. He was just trying to be nice. He could've just let that girl suffer, you know. "It could've been a prolapsed hemorrhoid."
"Trust me," Dave said, shaking his head at the thought. "That was no hemorrhoid."
He exited the room rather annoyed, but it seemed as if he wasn't the only one who *was* annoyed. Following close behind was Dr. Finch, still admonishing him for doing her a favor. "Don't treat my patients," she said, continuing to follow him all the way to the Admin Desk, where he dropped the chart into a pile with the other finished ones.
"Why?" he asked, shrugging, still wondering what the big problem was. "I rectified the situation." He paused, then smiled. "*Rect*-ify. Get it? Funny."
"Any idiot could shove an anus back in," Cleo said, obviously not humored. Dave sighed, rolling his eyes. He really didn't need this right now; he still had a whole shift ahead of him, and he didn't want this to hover over him the whole time, to put him in a bad mood. "I was waiting for a surgical consult on that patient, Dave."
"Oh, come on," he retorted. "You were gabbing with your boyfriend."
"Is there a problem?" he suddenly heard Dr. Weaver ask from the board of patient names. Great, now she was going to gang up on him too?
"Yes," Dave said, glancing at Cleo as he said so. "I never met anyone so possessive over someone else's butthole."
"Don't touch my patients!" she called as she headed back towards the exam room. He waved off her concern as he watched her fleeting form, and then turned to take care of another patient, one of his own.
That was just about the last time he'd ever do anyone a favor again, he decided. God, he'd just been trying to *help* her, couldn't she see that? Couldn't anyone see he could do something for another living being without an ulterior motive, or without thinking he was a cocky jerk? How could he change? And what could he possibly change into? Something that he wasn't? Why couldn't they just accept him for who he was and accept the fact that he cared?
Dave let out a silent sigh, his pace slowing. He stopped, holding the chart in his hand, glancing through it though he wasn't really seeing it. He looked up, then to his right. The drug lockup. He was really down after what had just happened between Cleo and himself, but was that pick-me-up really worth it? The night he'd nearly killed his own patient, he'd promised himself he wouldn't steal any more pills...
But that didn't mean he couldn't take the ones he already *had*, did it?
-------------------------------
But I missed the best part
Could we please go back to start?
-------------------------------
Dr. Luka Kovac moved down the hallway of the ER, searching for Dave. The older man hadn't seen him his whole shift, and he still desperately wanted to speak with the younger man. Dave had, over the past few weeks, managed to cloud his mind. He was the only thing that Luka could think about, and that thought startled him. He hadn't thought of anyone like this since...God, how much he hated to admit it, but he hadn't thought of anyone like this since Danijela. What was wrong with him? He couldn't *love* Dave, could he?
That was ridiculous, his alter ego said. How could you love someone that you didn't even know? But he did know Dave. Sure, he might not have known where the junior resident was born or even his birthday, but he did know that Dave liked to get up in the middle of the night and watch television, he did know that Dave's favorite beer was Heineken, and he did know that Dave listened to classical music in the shower. God...how could he have been so stupid? So blind to see what Dave had felt for him wasn't just physical attraction? How could he not see that Dave had feelings? Well-hidden feelings, but deep feelings? How could he not see that Dave cared for him? And, most importantly, how could he have hurt Dave like that?
Luka glanced inside a dark exam room as he moved down the hallway, the blinds open. He spotted Dr. Carter examining his own foot in the examination light, obviously having a hard time doing so. Luka's pace faltered as he remembered Dave asking the Chief Resident to share a beer with him. Had their night escalated to anything more than that? Had it escalated to what Luka and Dave's first night together had escalated to? Had John even joined Dave that night? Maybe they hadn't even gone out...or maybe they had...and maybe they were in a relationship - not just sex but something more than that, something that Dave had wanted from Luka, something that Luka yearned from Dave now.
Finally stopping, Luka turned and headed back towards the exam room. If he couldn't find out any information from Dave, then maybe he could find out some information from Dr. Carter.
-------------------------------
Forgive my indecision...
-------------------------------
John sat on top of the patient bed in the empty exam room, trying to position himself so he could see the bottom of his foot. He should've listened to his grandmother when she told him not to try to clean up the shattered glass without shoes on. Now, hours later, it was all coming back to bite him in the - well - foot.
The door opened, and John glanced up to see Luka enter the room. John smiled at the older man, who returned the gesture, and then indicated his foot after seeing the Attending's puzzled glance. "I stepped on a piece of glass this morning..." he admitted sheepishly, slightly embarrassed.
"Are you sure?" Luka asked as he bent down to glance at it, touching it gently with his fingers only to receive a yelp from John. "Yep, you've definitely got something in there. Let me see if I can get it out."
"Sure, thanks," John said, holding the pair of tweezers as Luka pulled up a stool and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Luka took the tweezers from John and then began to attempt to remove the piece of glass from John's foot, John wincing occasionally in pain.
"How did Saturday night go?" Luka asked casually, not glancing up at the older man.
John looked at Luka in surprise, his head spinning with the quick movement in addition to the thought that Luka knew something - but knew what? The only thing he could ask was a choked: "Saturday?"
Luka glanced up at John from under his brow. "You went out for a beer with Dave, no?"
"Oh! Right," John said. Luka, once again, looked down at John's foot, continuing with his task. John tried to think of the many reasons why Luka would bring this up. Dave hadn't mentioned anything to the Attending, had he? Dave had seemed very upset the last time John and he had crossed paths, which was Monday, the day of the Marfan's Syndrome case. What if he'd said something to Luka in his anger? Something about he and John? John realized that Luka had asked him a question, and immediately began to reply. "We went out to Del Monte's, a bar nearby. Just had a beer or two, and then we went home - separately," he hastily added.
Luka held back the urge to convey a curious expression. He had noted the fact that John had emphasized that the two men had gone home alone. Was he trying to hide something? Or was it just Luka being paranoid? "Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah, Dave is always good for a laugh or two," was the reply. John winced as Luka exerted too much pressure on his foot. He realized that maybe he wasn't the only one who knew Dave's sexuality. What if Luka knew? Were he and Dave good enough friends for the junior resident to share something so personal like that? The two of them barely spoke...but then again, the two of them were currently in a fight, so they had to have been in some sort of relationship previously...wait...Dave and Luka weren't - ? "Oh my God."
"What?" Luka asked, looking up. John chastised himself for uttering those words out loud, but how could he have helped it after just realizing he'd walked into some sort of romance? Dave and Luka had been together, how could he have missed that? Maybe John wasn't even really all that accurate. What if he was just imagining things after what had occurred between himself and Dave? "Did I hurt you?"
"Yes," John said quickly, maybe too quickly, but he didn't care right now. He just wanted to get out of this room before he cracked. He knew sooner or later he'd say something stupid that would give away the fact that he knew, and he thought that this was something he'd better keep to himself. He wasn't sure why. But if he knew about Dave and Luka, did that mean Luka could know about Dave and himself?
"Sorry," Luka apologized. He looked up at John, waiting for the younger man to say something more, to say something that would make Luka change his mind about thinking something had happened between the two residents. Please, Luka begged silently. Say something.
Say something! John screamed silently to himself as Luka stared at him, waiting. Say something to make Luka think otherwise of his suspicions, just in case he has any! Say something! Say something! Say something!
The door suddenly opened, startling both men, though John more than Luka, and Haleh poked her head inside the room, her eyes landing on John. "Dr. Chen needs you in Trauma One, STAT."
"Thanks, Haleh," John said, quickly putting on his sock and shoe before limping away. "Thanks, Luka, but I guess I'll get it out later."
"Right," Luka said, keeping his back to the younger man as he left the room, snapping off his gloves and slamming them onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Something *had* happened between Dr. Carter and Dave, but just exactly what? Standing, he decided that the only other way was to simply ask Dave.
-------------------------------
Then again, you're always first
When no one's on your side
-------------------------------
Dexedrine in his system, causing him to be overly elated and overly bold, Dr. David Malucci breezed through the ER. He'd brought the pills to work in his pocket, intending to return it to the drug lockup, but after that confrontation with Cleo, he'd decided that maybe it wouldn't hurt to take them. After all, he would've been walking through this shift with that hovering over him, and at least with the Dexedrine, he wouldn't have to think of it as much. And when he didn't think of it, he was happy and able to get along with people better, thus treating patients better. Well, that's what he told himself anyway, to justify his actions.
Since leaving the bathroom - where he had taken the Dexedrine - Dave had decided that maybe the best course of action was to simply leave this hospital. He could transfer out to another hospital, where there was no Luka and no John and no presumptuous coworkers who thought they knew everything there was to know about Dr. Dave. He smiled; a new start for a new man.
He wanted to speak to Dr. Greene about this first before going to the Chief about it. She wasn't in the best mood today - or so Randi had warned - and he figured that maybe the Attending could give him some advice before his final decision.
Spotting Dr. Greene tending to a street performer with his former medical student, Abby Lockhart, he called out to him, approaching him at a fast pace. "Hey, Boss, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," Dr. Greene said as he kept his eyes on his patient.
"Hey..." Dave said as he spotted a beautiful paramedic walking into the elevator. To his surprise, she smiled back, even waving at him. Maybe today wasn't such a bad day after all! He suddenly saw Luka approaching, heading straight for him, and decided to wipe away his previous thought. Up until now, he'd managed to evade the older man, and right now he didn't feel like speaking with the Attending. Quickly, he sprinted towards the elevator's closing doors.
"Dave?" he heard Dr. Greene call from behind him. "What is it, Dave?"
"Nothing!" he quickly said as Luka quickened his pace subtly. The resident quickly moved onto the nearly full elevator at the dismay of one of the passengers, and the doors closed behind him. He quickly thought up an excuse. "Medical emergency."
"You're a doctor?" he heard the pretty paramedic ask him skeptically, glancing over his scrub top and jeans.
"Yeah," he said, crossing his arms over his chest proudly. "I'm Dr. Dave."
"So I've been warned," she sighed, mistaking his behavior for flirtation. Dave smiled in spite of himself, turning towards the closed elevator doors, wondering what he was going to do once he got to whatever floor he decided to get off on. He'd have to eventually go back to the ER, and hopefully dodge Luka for the rest of his shift.
Halfway to the second floor, the elevator suddenly lurched to a stop, causing a groan to emit throughout the car. The patient who had previously warned Dave once again reminded him: "I told you we were full!"
Dave sighed, opening the panel door on the side of the elevator and picking up the emergency telephone, connecting with the hospital's security and asking when they were going to be let out of this sweltering-hot elevator car. When Dave relayed that they were working on it, he considered just how bad this really was. At least he was stuck in here next to a pretty girl instead of the fat man in the wheelchair behind him, who was grousing that he had an ulcer. At least he wasn't stuck in here with Luka. Or John, who, luckily, only had a few more hours left of the half-shift that he was working today.
Suddenly feeling playful - perhaps from the Dexedrine and perhaps not - Dave leaned closer to the paramedic, whose nametag read the name Chloe. "If you get scared," he whispered to her, a sly smile on his face. "I'll hold you."
"And what is it that I might get scared of?" she wondered, looking up at the handsome resident with a raised eyebrow, though there was amusement in her eyes.
"Plummeting to our deaths," he replied casually, keeping that sly smile.
"What?" a woman asked from behind them, having overheard what Dave had just said.
"He was kidding, ma'am," Chloe said quickly, glaring at Dave for needlessly alarming someone. Dave just smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "It could happen." The paramedic looked at him for a few moments, then rolled her eyes and turned away, though Dave could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"I think I'm gonna be sick," the man in the wheelchair moaned just as a woman commented that she felt faint.
Dave turned to face them, holding his hands out, the paramedic following suit. "No one's going to be sick, no one's going to faint," he said, trying to reassure them, as if that would help them restrain themselves until the elevator started working once more. Suddenly, the man leaned forward, retching, vomiting bright red blood. Dave stepped back just in time for it to miss him, his eyes wide at the fact that things would only get considerably worse. He exchanged glances with the paramedic. "Oh, shit."
-------------------------------
But, then again, a day will come
When I want off that ride
-------------------------------
John stood at the elevator alcove, watching as the digital number indicating the floor it was on stood still at one. If it was at floor one, which was the floor he was standing on, why weren't the doors opening? Today was not his day, he could tell already and he wasn't even halfway through it yet.
"What's up with this thing?" he heard Abby ask from next to him. He glanced at her, shrugging. "I think Dave overloaded the damn thing when he jumped on. It's probably stuck."
"Dave's inside?" John asked, hoping that the twinge of panic he heard in his own voice was only audible to himself. He considered quickly ducking out, but considered that it would seem too suspicious, especially if his tone of voice *was* audibly irregular.
Abby glanced at him with raised eyebrows, nodding. A wry smile appeared on her face, and she indicated the closed doors. "He jumped on board after seeing some big-breasted paramedic. But something tells me it didn't matter that she was a paramedic. I think he was following the breasts."
John instinctively looked to the closed doors. Dave had rushed onto an elevator after seeing a pretty girl? Was he hoping to get her phone number? Or was he hoping to get something more from her? Despite the fact that John was the one who had wanted the two men to remain friends and nothing more, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of - what? Disappointment? Disappointed that he was that easy to get over? Disappointed that Dave, only days after their shared night together, could already be after another interest? Disappointed that he'd meant that little to Dave? But why would that matter if Dave didn't mean anything to him, which he certainly did not?
He felt Abby nudge him playfully in the ribs, and when he looked down at her, he could see her smiling widely. "Don't worry, John," she said, teasing him. "It probably didn't matter that she was breasted, either. I'm sure there's still a chance for you." John looked back to the closed doors, then turned away and started towards the stairs, quickly. "John...? John! What'd I say??"
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11am;
By now you would think that I would be up
But my bed sheets shade the heat of choices I've made
-------------------------------
"Doctors are human," Kerry was saying to an impatient Dr. Romano as she walked with him through the hospital. "We make mistakes too."
"Had Paul been diagnosed properly in the first place and gone straight to the OR instead of that delayed diagnosis that Dr. Malucci kindly supplied us with, he might still be alive, flipping burgers at McDonald's!" Dr. Romano said, reminding Kerry that the patient had died in surgery, and the family was wondering how that could've happened since the statistics had been in their favor.
"Marfan's is hard to detect," Kerry insisted, defending the junior resident, maybe because she felt as if it weren't his fault, or maybe to just disagree with Dr. Romano. "The residents have never heard of it."
"That is why Attendings exist," Dr. Romano said, quickening his pace as if to lose the Chief of the ED. "That is why positions such as *yours* exist."
"I can't be everywhere at once," she snapped, a very big mistake on her part, as Dr. Romano spun on his heel to stare her straight in the eye and shout: "Wrong answer! As we speak, the family is planning to take legal action against this hospital unless someone suffers a consequence for this screw-up, so come up with a better excuse than 'doctors are human,' or find yourself a good old-fashioned scapegoat!"
Dr. Weaver stopped in surprise, letting Dr. Romano walk up the stairs to the OR by himself, and at that second, the elevator doors *dinged* open, a crowd pouring out of the car, causing the Chief of the ED to glance inside suspiciously. On the floor of the elevator car lay a rather large man, a paramedic pumping the bag as Kerry heard Dr. David Malucci brag to the pretty girl, grinning: "Who's your daddy?"
It appeared that she wouldn't have to look much further.
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And what did I find?
I never thought I could want someone so much
'Cause now you're not here and I'm knee deep in that old fear
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"Can I get you a cane?" John heard the unmistakable voice of Luka ask, teasing him about the limp present due to the glass that was still stuck in his foot. Luka was one of the last people John wanted to see right now. First, the Chief Resident wanted to sort things through in his head - maybe figure out just what had happened between Luka and Dave, Dave and himself, and Luka and himself, specifically earlier in the empty exam room. *Then* maybe John would speak to Luka or Dave again. Until then, he'd just steer clear of the two men who he'd mistakenly thought he knew.
A thought came to John's mind, and he immediately spoke up as if it would make up for his lack of saying something earlier: "You know, women often find helplessness charming."
It didn't work.
"In puppies, maybe," Luka simply replied. Damn it, the Attending was quick. He'd immediately picked up on John's strategy, and now the Chief Resident was worried that Luka would be even *more* suspicious. What if he knew John had mentioned women just to deceive the older man? Of course he'd think that. He'd thought a night of beer between Dave and John had turned into something more - and it sure as hell had. Luka suddenly led John to a curtain area, sitting him on the bed. "Let me get that glass out of your foot. Do you want some lidocaine?"
"Just do it," John said, taking off his shoe as Luka took out a pair of tweezers from the supply cart nearby. John let out a painful "Ow!" when Luka finally tweaked the glass shard from his foot. He looked at Luka gratefully. "Thanks, Dr. Kovac."
"No problem," Luka said, standing, and John followed suit. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, and John rubbed the nape of his neck, turning his head slightly. He suddenly caught sight of Jing-Mei, who he saw escorting one of his patients to the ER bay doors. "Is something wrong?"
"Yeah..." John replied, and quickly excused himself, heading towards Jing-Mei. He grabbed her arm gently, allowing her momentum to swing her around to face him. "That's my patient."
"No...she's my patient," Jing-Mei stated, tossing John an odd look. She held out the chart to him, and he glanced it over, his jaw setting as he read it over. "Something wrong?"
"Weaver took her from me!" he seethed, glancing at her with anger, though it wasn't anger towards her, but towards his Chief. "She gave her to you!"
"Maybe she thought you were overloaded," Jing-Mei offered, her expression compassionate. She'd noted that many cases had been handed off to John, because he was the Chief Resident and the residents were either being lazy or didn't now how to handle it. And, because of that, John had asked Dr. Weaver for help, but she had only offered him terse replies that he should be able to handle it.
"More like incompetent," he stated, remembering how he'd earlier asked her for some help, and she'd practically bitten his head off for doing so. He glanced up at Jing-Mei, then focused on someone behind her. "You know Jing- Mei, sometimes I regret going for the Chief Resident position," John spat.
"Why?" Jing-Mei asked, knowing she, herself, had been dying for the position.
"Because I have to deal with that little tyrant, and I don't mean Romano."
"I guess it is true what they say," Jing-Mei said, cryptically.
"What's that?"
"Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it."
John nodded in agreement and then spoke again. "Speak of the Devil Incarnate."
"Haleh, prep a trauma!" Dr. Weaver barked as she pulled on a trauma gown. "We've got a patient coming in! John, Jing-Mei: don't just stand there! Make yourselves useful!"
"Sure thing, Dr. Weaver," both John and Jing-Mei said as they pulled on gowns of their own and followed her towards the ambulance bay.
-------------------------------
Forgive my indecision...
I am only a man...
-------------------------------
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Chloe asked, though the smile on her face and glint of mischief in her eyes indicated that she didn't care.
Dave kissed her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before allowing his mouth to move up her jaw and to her ear. He gently nibbled at her earlobe before whispering into her ear: "It doesn't really matter, does it? We both want it, so who cares?"
Her only reply was touching his cheek with her hand to move it towards her, so she could encase those beautiful full lips with her own. He pushed his tongue through her closed lips, surprising her delightfully, and she allowed him to wrap his strong arms around her and move her, so she was on her back on the small seat of the rig and he was straddling her with his knees.
They both knew they didn't have that much time, so they didn't even undress fully before she was rolling a condom over his fully erect cock with delicate fingers. God, how much he needed this right now, it took all he had not to come by her touch. He just needed to let it all go and release the anger and tension he'd been feeling for the past weeks, and a little rough, spontaneous sex was just what the doctor ordered. And as he thrust himself into Chloe rather roughly, producing a gasp from her, Dave didn't realize that he wouldn't even get that.
-------------------------------
Then again, you're always first
When no one's on your side
-------------------------------
"Where the hell is my patient?" Kerry raged to Malik, who was outside waiting as well to assist the Chief of the ED in the incoming trauma.
"104 is bringing her in," he replied, and when she turned towards the ambulance that was parked nearby, he tossed John and Jing-Mei a glance as if to say: "What is *her* problem?" "Then who the hell's ambulance is this??"
Kerry charged towards the ambulance, yanking open rig's back door to see if there was anyone inside. And was there ever. Inside, fucking frantically, was the paramedic that Kerry had seen around the ER earlier, and Dr. Malucci. They turned, both giggling childishly from the fact that they'd been caught doing something so naughty, and Kerry slammed the door closed, disgusted.
"What's wrong, Dr. Weaver?" John asked as he approached her, after seeing her expression. She looked at him, pursed her lips, and then took on almost a satisfied expression as she turned back towards the ambulance, flinging open the back door again.
"Chief!" John heard the unmistakable voice of Dave say, urgency in his tone. John suddenly thought of the "breasted paramedic" that Abby had referred to earlier, and his eyes widened as he realized that Dave could only be doing one thing in the back of that ambulance. Steeling himself, he glanced inside, and his heart jumped into his throat as he saw his assumptions were correct.
"Dr. Malucci," Kerry said as evenly as possible, John's eye catching Dave's, and the younger man's erection dissipated as he realized what a mistake this had been. "I want you out of that girl and the ambulance, and into the Lounge. If you aren't there in ten seconds, then I will pack up your personal belongings from your locker myself. As for you," she said to the paramedic. "I want this rig out of here immediately."
She slammed the door closed before Dave could get in another word, then turned, pulling off her trauma gown. John stared at the closed doors of the rig, hardly believing what he'd just seen. Glancing at Jing-Mei, he could see an amused expression on her face, but it immediately faltered when she saw the concerned face on his.
"What's wrong, John?" she asked, studying his features.
"Nothing," he lied, shaking his head. The back door of the rig suddenly opened, and Dave stepped out, his appearance unkempt, unable to meet the eyes of any coworkers, especially John. He walked inside the ER quietly, avoiding John's gaze, who was desperately trying to make eye contact with the Junior Resident. "What do you think Weaver's going to do?"
"Suspend him," Jing-Mei stated with a shrug, not really caring either way.
But John didn't really care either. All he cared about was that he had meant that little to Dave. And now all he had to do was figure out two more things: Why he'd meant that little to the younger man, and why he even cared at all.
-------------------------------
But, then again, a day will come
When I want off that ride
-------------------------------
"Look, Chief," Dave said, trying to plead with the older woman, who was leaning against the lockers, her jaw set and eyes firing daggers at him. "I know you're pissed, but come on, let's be real about this. I didn't do anything wrong, you can't suspend me."
"You call what you just did in the ambulance bay *while you were on duty* right?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows knowingly.
"Well...no, but..." he started, searching his mind quickly for something, anything to keep himself from getting suspended. If he got suspended this time, he was almost sure next time he would be fired - and he knew there would be a next time, there was always another screw-up waiting to happen when he was involved, but his mind was racing from the drugs, and from the situation, which made him unable to come up with something witty, as usual. "Chief, I was on my break, and she was between calls. We were just having a little fun, that's all. Is there anything wrong with *that*?"
"Dr. Malucci, you'd better watch it," she snapped. "I could've fired you for what you just did. And do you know why? Because Dr. Romano is looking for a scapegoat for what happened last week, and you are the only person in sight. Consider yourself lucky, Malucci."
"Lucky?" he muttered, just loud enough to hear it. Dr. Weaver glanced at him in surprise. She was trying to help him, why was he still angry with her? It was as if he had no control over what he was saying or doing. "We both know that now you're just going to fire me next time. Because now you have an excuse."
"What exactly are you trying to imply here?" she asked, leaning heavily on her crutch. If Dave wanted to instigate something, than that was exactly what she was going to give him. She certainly wasn't in the mood for anyone's bullshit, especially a know-it-all Junior Resident like Dr. Malucci, and perhaps she should make him her scapegoat. Her life would certainly become easier if she did. Maybe she should give him enough rope to hang himself and be done with this whole situation, be done with him. For good.
"You don't like me," he replied, staring her straight in the eye, his eyes cold and wild. "You're only giving yourself an excuse to fire me next time because you don't like me. You know that I'm on thin ice with the residency review board. Two...two more suspensions and I'm gone, my career is over. And - and that's exactly what you want!"
"You're right," she hissed, approaching him. "I *don't* like you. You show no respect for me, your colleagues, this hospital. You like to think that you have this cowboy approach to medicine, but you don't have the goods to back it up. You make mistakes - mistakes that kill people!"
Dave took a step towards her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt terror run through her veins, and she was afraid of him. His muscles were tense and his eyes were filled with such a wild anger she was actually afraid that he was going to strike her. She shrank back against the lockers, as he stood flush to her. Her mind was racing, and her grip tightened around her cane. If she lifted it up and swung it at the side of his head, at his temple, she knew she could seriously hurt him - probably knock him unconscious. But she would only hit him if he touched her.
"I don't kill people!" he said, his face contorted with rage. He lifted his hand, but instead of swinging her cane, as Dr. Weaver had intended to do, she closed her eyes tightly, turning her face away from him, all out of pure instinct. And she waited. But when no blow came - but she could still feel his body heat near her - she opened her eyes to see that he was just simply pointing at her, though threateningly. And she saw that his expression of anger was gone, and all that was left was pure shock. Shock because Dr. Weaver had thought he was going to strike her...but also because he knew that he had been very close to doing so. "Jesus Christ," he breathed.
As suddenly as he had advanced on her, he retreated, and collapsed down onto the old leather couch heavily, his mind spinning. He placed his head in his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. Kerry could barely understand this. One minute, Dave was pleading with her; the next, he was irate; and now...now he was upset? What was going on here? When he spoke, she wasn't expecting what he said, though she wasn't sure what she *was* expecting. "I'm a good doctor...I don't like it when you say that I don't care...because I do...I do care. I didn't mean to hurt that patient. I...I thought that I was doing the right thing," he whispered.
"Dave," she finally said, giving up trying to understand this man. "Sign off your patients.
Call in a few days to see when you're working next. I'll see you in a week."
"Please don't do this to me," he pleaded quietly, looking up at her. Now she was sure there was something wrong with Dave...but what? "I learned my lesson, I won't screw up again."
"Dave, what is going on with you?" she asked concerned, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, feeling him flinch under her touch. But she didn't pull away. Something was wrong, and she was going to find out what it was.
"I...I don't want to lose my job," he said softly.
"You're not!" she said, trying to comfort him as best as she could. "It's just a suspension." She tried to joke with him, to lighten he mood, anything to cheer him up: "You should be used to them by now."
Dave looked up with her, with pure hurt in his eyes. How could she say something like that to him? He wasn't "used to them." God, how terrible of a doctor did she think he was! "You'll change your mind and fire me. I know you will," he said firmly, his mind obviously made up. "You just said that you don't like me - hell, I don't like me! Why would you?"
"Dave, people say lots of things when they're mad," she reminded him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go home, work through whatever it is that's going on with you. Don't worry about you're job, it'll be here when you come back in a few days."
She let out a silent sigh as she moved away from him, taking one final look at him before leaving the lounge. She was no longer mad, but very concerned for her young Resident. After her confrontation with him, she realized just how differently he'd been acting lately. Not enough to gain attention, but just enough for her to notice it right now. She would definitely have to speak with some of the staff about him, make some inquiries, and find out just what the hell was going on.
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12pm and my dusty telephone rings
Heavy head up from my pillow, who could it be?
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"They've been in there for a while now," Randi said as she glanced at Chuny, who was standing next to her. By now, most if not all of the ER had gotten wind of Dave getting caught with his pants down in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic he'd just met. "You think she killed him?"
"She could be getting rid of the body," Chuny mused. "She's probably having a hard time stuffing it in her locker."
Randi nodded, and at that moment, Dr. Weaver exited the Lounge, sending everyone in different directions so they didn't look like they'd just been gossiping. John glanced up from his chart as the Chief of the ED eradicated Dave's name from the patient board with one sweep of the eraser, replacing it with different doctors' names. She hadn't fired him, had she? Glancing towards the Lounge, John knew that Dave was still inside. Could he be cleaning out his locker at this very instant?
Unable to sit there any longer, John stood and crossed Admin, heading towards the Lounge. He pushed open the door softly, and saw Dave sitting on the couch, staring at his hands, which were in his lap. The younger man glanced up briefly after hearing someone enter, but then quickly looked away after seeing who it was. Soon, John found himself next to Dave on the couch, both seated in silence.
"Weaver suspended me," Dave said quietly, the first to break the silence.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry," Dave said softly. He turned to look John in the eyes, the desperation in them so intense John almost had to look away. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, especially since you tried to help me out." He was referring to when he'd cursed at John in the trauma room, but that had been a week ago, why was he bringing it up now? Had it been bothering him all this time? The handsome young man suddenly looked away. "But I was angry, and sometimes when I get angry, I..." He couldn't continue without bursting into tears, so he ran a hand through his hair in an act of frustration, whispering: "I don't know...I thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted to save him."
Dave was jumping from topic to topic, making it hard for John to follow the conversation, so the Chief Resident said the first thing that came to mind: "Don't kill yourself over this." He immediately cringed at his choice of words. Dave had, apparently, thought this was an intended joke, and John was relieved when the younger man let out a small laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "Anyone could've made the same mistake, Dave."
Dave shrugged. "No. No, you knew what you were doing. But I...I killed that kid. I killed him because I think I know everything. But I don't. What was I thinking, that I could be a doctor? I make stupid mistakes all the time. Dr. Weaver's right. I have no business being a doctor. I'm dangerous."
"That's not true, Dave. You're a good doctor, you just need to learn to wait for all the information, that's all. You just have to learn to be patient."
"Well, there's nothing I can really do now, is there? I suppose I could quit. Quit before Weaver fires me," he said sadly. "She's going to next time, you know. Fire me. She's got an excuse now. Nazi dyke. She's...she's going to set me up. I should just save her the trouble and...and save all my potential patients from my miserable care."
"Dave..." John said, trying to calm him down, rationalize with him and console him at the same time. "Why don't you work on your technique as a doctor before you throw it all away?"
Dave looked up at John. "I do care, though," he suddenly said, and John's expression showed his concern and slight puzzlement. "I know no one around here thinks I do, but I do."
"I know you do," he replied, hardly able to keep up with Dave's train of logic. "But the question is: do you care enough to learn from your mistakes?"
"I don't know how..." Dave whispered. "I never seem to learn from my mistakes...I...I should just end it."
"End what?" John asked, alarmed. Was Dave feeling so low that he would actually consider hurting himself? John suddenly remembered the scars he'd seen on Dave's wrists. The younger man had tried it before, but John didn't know when or why, or how close he had come to death, or any of the specifics...but he did know now that Dave wasn't afraid to do it. Could he possibly try it again? And could he possibly succeed this time?
Dave seemed to catch on and quickly added, touching one of the scars on his wrist instinctively, "My career." But his words didn't seem to make John feel better, and the older man wasn't sure if he believed him, especially after noticing Dave touching one of his scars.
"Lucky for you, you are friends with the Chief Resident," John said, trying to pull the conversation back into a positive direction.
"Why is that?"
"I'm going to help you learn," John said with a shrug.
"Trust me," Dave said. "I'm not worth the effort."
"Let me decide that, okay?" John asked, his worry really taking hold. What was going on with the younger man lately? Was it his own fault that Dave was acting like this, or was it the younger man's? Dave shrugged, his gaze remaining on his hands. "So what have you learned today?"
"That I'm a terrible doctor," Dave said, bowing his head.
"No!" Carter exclaimed, startling Dave, who glanced at him. John shifted and knelt before Dave, crouching down before him. "You learned today that you can learn from your mistakes and you'll never what?"
"Make the same mistake twice," he replied, staring straight into John's brown eyes.
"From the way you handled that trauma after you realized your mistake," John said reassuringly, "it looks like you won't make that mistake again, Dave. I can see that, and I'm glad that you can learn from your mistakes. One less thing I have to teach you. Dave, you are a good doctor and a good person, I learned that, now *you* have to learn that."
"I think you're just about the only person that thinks I'm worth anything," the Junior Resident said, looking down once more.
"Well, *they'll* have to learn from their mistakes now, won't they?"
Dave glanced up at John, his eyes searching the Chief Resident's. But for what? Any hint that something could still be there? Something he'd seen a few nights ago, when the two had been so far lost in each other the world had vanished for those moments? Now Dave knew that neither of them wanted to speak of what had happened two nights ago, but he also didn't want this to hover over them like some sort of storm cloud. He didn't want the same thing to happen between them that had happened between him and Luka - this was at least one mistake he could learn from. "Listen, Carter...why don't we just...forget about what happened between us and...be friends. I liked being your friend, Carter. And...I need friends. A real friend. Sure, I have a lot of buddies, but no real friends."
John smiled as both men stood. "Okay." That was okay, they could be friends. "Sure, Dave. I liked being your friend too."
"Great," Dave said, smiling himself, although John noticed how sad the smile really was.
"You know..." John started. Should he ask? Maybe he shouldn't, maybe it was too soon. But Dave had said it himself, he liked being his friend, and they could do something together as friends. Dave looked up at him expectantly. "Since I got that Chief Residency position..."
"Yeah," Dave interrupted good-naturedly. He held out his hand to John. "I've been meaning to congratulate you on that."
"Thanks," John said, shaking Dave's hand. He immediately felt the heat of the junior resident's hand in his as they shook, and when he looked up he was almost startled to see Dave looking right into his eyes. John glanced at the small bruise that still surrounded Dave's eye and he was surprised to find that he had to fight back the urge to reach out and touch it and ask him if he was going to be all right. Stay on topic, he thought to himself. Then he noticed something about Dave's eyes...they didn't seem right, as if he was having a hard time focusing.
"What's wrong?" Dave asked, looking down at the ground, sensing that Carter noticed something.
"Nothing." Just ask him what you intended to ask him in the first place, John. "Uh...so, uh, my grandparents are throwing this party for me, and a lot of my family and their friends are going to be there. Uh, so, uh, do you, maybe, want to go?"
"I'd love to," Dave said, unable to help but smile. "When is it?"
"It's next Saturday," he replied, stuttering as if he were an idiot. But maybe it was because Dave and he were still holding each other's hand even though the handshake was far over. And for some reason, he wasn't trying to pull away. "It's going to be until about ten o'clock because my grandparents are going on a trip to the mountains right afterwards, and it's going to be an evening event, but you can come any time you want, earlier or later."
"That's great," he replied. He realized that John wasn't trying to pull his hand away, like Dave thought he was going to when he took the chance to keep the now Chief Resident's hand in his. Maybe - just maybe - there was still a chance for him. Maybe there was still a chance for *them*, if he hadn't ruined it by having sex with that paramedic. "I don't know whether or not I'll be back at work by then, so I don't know what time I'll be able to come. What kind of party is it? I mean, what should I wear?"
"Tux," John said, avoiding any eye contact with the junior resident. Dave didn't own a tuxedo, but he supposed he could go out and rent one by Saturday. It was, in fact, a little over a week away. "Uh...you can, uh...you can stay later if you'd like. We probably won't see each other much during the party so, you know, this way we can...we can share a few drinks or something..."
"Or something," Dave said with a smile, then realized what he'd just said and wiped that smile off of his face before John could see it. He pulled his hand away from John's as he moved to his locker, getting his things together. "I'll see you next Saturday then."
"Yeah," John replied, sitting down on the couch once more. "See you next Saturday."
John watched Dave place his stethoscope and ID badge on the shelf, and then pull his knapsack out of his locker. He tossed it over his shoulder, turned, and moved towards the exit. "This is the worst part, you know," Dave said.
"What is?"
"Walking out there when everyone knows that you fucked up...that you're a fuck up. Facing people."
"You're not a fuck up, Dave," John said softly.
The junior resident said nothing, but paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder but not at John. "She didn't mean anything you know."
"Who?" John asked, slightly puzzled.
"The paramedic," Dave said, looking into John's eyes. He turned back towards the door and left, leaving John alone in the Lounge. Staring ahead but at nothing, John realized that maybe he did mean something to Dave, more than he thought he hadn't, and more than he thought he *had*.
-------------------------------
I hope it's you...
It's you...
-------------------------------
"Mark!" the Chief of the ED called to the Attending, who was walking down the hallway of the ER. He stopped at the sound of his name, and turned to see her coming towards him rather quickly. "I need to talk to you for a minute."
"Sure," he said, as he placed his chart underneath his arm. She began walking with him towards wherever he was going, and he adjusted his pace to fit hers. "What's up?"
"It's about Dr. Malucci," she stated, glancing up at him. He looked down at her puzzlingly. "Have you noticed anything...off about him lately?"
"Off?" Mark asked, a smile coming to his face. "Malucci is always 'off'."
She grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking, a sense of urgency about her and in the expression she was giving him. "Mark, this is serious. Something is wrong with Dave. Do you have any idea what it could be?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. He shrugged. "I'm not friends with him, you should ask the other residents. Ask Carter." Mark suddenly paused, looking away from Kerry briefly, before glancing back at her. "I heard that something happened between Malucci and Kovac, but I heard it from the Rumor Mill. Why don't you ask him? It's worth a try."
"What exactly did you hear?" she asked, looking up at him, wishing at this moment that she actually listened to the nurses' gossip for once.
Mark shrugged, looking down at her. "I don't know, Kerry. I just heard that something happened between them, but no one knows what. There's a pool running to see who kills the other first, though. Want to join? Randi's got it starting at ten bucks if you're interested."
"Is it really that bad?" she asked, shocked. Two of her doctors were in an argument, ready to explode at each other, and she had no idea about it? She briefly thought of her skills as Chief of the ED before seeing Mark shrug again. She sighed, and looked up at him once more, before leaving. "Just keep an eye on Dr. Malucci, okay? If you notice anything amiss, please tell me."
"I will," Mark promised, and watched Kerry as she walked away from him and down the hallway, her limp more prominent than it had been in years.
-------------------------------
Then again, you're always first
When no one's on your side
-------------------------------
John closed his eyes as he lay down inside the empty suture room, getting some shut-eye now that the ER was in a lull. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind as he attempted to go to sleep, but all he could do was think of Dave and his emotional state. He could hear faint voices coming from the next room, which was only separated from Sutures by an open door with a curtain in front of it, and as the voices became recognizable - Kerry and Luka - he opened his eyes and turned his ear towards the room, his curiosity getting the best of him.
"Are you sure you haven't noticed anything wrong?" Kerry's voice, urgent but soft-spoken.
Now Luka's: "He and I aren't friends. I couldn't tell you. Why don't you ask Dr. Carter?"
Sitting up suddenly, John now looked at the open door. What were they talking about? And what did it have to do with him?
"I plan to," he heard Kerry say as his brow creased in concentration. It looks like he would find out what the issue was soon. "But you never answered my question."
"What question?"
"Did anything happen between you and Dr. Malucci?"
A pause. A pause that seemed to last for several minutes, though it probably only lasted for a few seconds. Then: "No. I told you. He and I aren't friends."
John clenched his jaw at Luka's lie. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Luka and Dave *weren't* friends, at least they weren't any longer. But if Kerry thought something was wrong with Dave, shouldn't Luka at least offer some help? This could be serious, and Luka was just going to blatantly state that he and Dave weren't friends, never had been? What kind of person was he?
"John." He looked up to see Kerry standing in the doorway. He knew he'd been caught, but at this point, he was too worried to care. And he could see that same worry reflected in his superior's eyes. "I suppose you overheard?"
"Yeah, I did," he stated, nodding as she approached him, and he noticed her leaning heavily on her cane. "You think something's wrong with Dave. I do too."
"You do?" she asked, almost as if she was surprised she wasn't the only one who had noticed. "What do you think is going on with him? He's been acting very odd lately."
"I don't know," John replied honestly, shrugging. He looked up at the Chief of the ED, his eyes displaying his concern. "I talked to him after you left him in the Lounge. He was really upset, Kerry. What did you say to him?"
"We had a confrontation," she stated, sighing as she placed her hand to her forehead. "He might've taken what I said too seriously. But, John, I didn't say anything in there that I haven't said before. Nothing was new to him."
"I think that's the problem," John said, a little more harshly than he'd intended to.
"What do you mean?" was the quiet reply.
"Have you ever given the guy credit for anything?" John asked. "Have you ever congratulated him on a good save or a good pick up? Have you ever tried to encourage him?"
"I always encourage him," she said, but the words even sounded lame to her own ears.
"Dr. Weaver, we both know that isn't true." He let out a sigh of his own as she began to leave the room without another word. He stopped her though, having to say something but not exactly knowing what. "Look, Dave and I are friends. I'll try to find out what's going on, and if it's anything serious that I can't handle, I'll come to you."
"Thank you, John," she said, clearly relieved that she would have some help in this matter. Straightening her posture, she pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, and then glanced at her watch. "Your break is over, Dr. Carter."
Another sigh, this time at his horrible luck. Well, John thought as he stood up, stretching. Two things were clear: Dave and him would have to talk about this again, whether or not either of them wanted to, and something was terribly wrong with Dave.
-------------------------------
But, then again, then again, again, again
Then again, the guarantee has come
And I want off that ride
-------------------------------
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