Healing the Healers

Pairing: Kerry Weaver/Abby Lockhart

Spoilers: Well, if ya haven't seen any of ER, in the whole probably 10 years that series 6 aired (philistines, haha!), then...plot begins around episode Be Still My Heart and All in the Family.

Disclaimer: Not property of me, property of the rich guys!

Author's Note: I started writing this waaay back about 5/6 years ago, when all I could call my own was a writing pad and pen! I rediscovered it in this tattered, battered old notebook about a year ago, and it's only now I'm getting around to resurrecting it and typing it up – bringing it into the modern world! I've always loved entertaining the thought of this pairing, and thought they could have taken the friendship so much further, so...here goes, not quite finished yet, but the intent and idea is there and very much alive! I hope y'all like, let me know!

Chapter 1

I saw her walking down the hall towards the exit, apparently unaware of the people yelling her name. I couldn't blame her if she kept running – well, crutching – her way out of the building, out of Chicago. For some reason I felt compelled to follow her. No one else seemed to have noticed the haste with which she disappeared, or the lostness of her determined rush. Perhaps she wanted it that way, and in my naϊveness I rushed through some unspoken rule of the ER. But everyone deserved someone to show they care, right?

The cigarette was in my mouth before the doors had even opened before me. I couldn't see her when I first got outside, so I lit the cigarette and let the fresh air into my lungs, allowing it plenty of time to circulate my nicotine-starved body.

I heard her before I saw her; a retching noise to my right made me turn, and all I could see was a billowing lab coat and a mop of ginger hair disappearing into a bin. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with seeing her this vulnerable, this human, and I realised why no one else had followed her out. She was Kerry Weaver, invincible Superdoc, and no one wanted anything to shatter that illusion. Perhaps she didn't want them to.

She'd stopped retching and was standing up straighter. There was no way I could sneak back in, so I decided to face her head-on. As she turned around I smiled cautiously. I thought I saw her eyes flash: anger; tears; I don't know. But in that same moment I saw her mask slide coolly back into place.

"Are you ok?"

Even before she opened her mouth, I knew what her response would be. I stared after her for a minute, stubbed out my cigarette and followed her back inside. We still had jobs to do.

Perhaps I should have let it be after that, but I never learnt. Put your finger in the fire once and get burned, keep doing it until you don't. Or until you stop feeling. That basically summed up my relationships in life.

There were few people going to Doc Magoo's after our shift. No one really fancied going home; everyone needed to know, good or bad. I was going to join them. I had my coat on. I was wrapping myself up in a scarf, but as I turned around I saw her, sitting by the admit desk. She appeared to be concentrating on a chart, but the pen kept moving in circles. I unravelled my scarf and walked over to her. Dr. Chen looked at me as though I was committing some sort of heinous crime before she walked out. Perhaps I was. Life as an OB nurse was so much simpler.

I kept going nonetheless, sure only of my unsureness, predicting only unpredictability.

"Her Dr. Weaver." She barely gave me a glance. "I was wondering if you fancied catching some dinner, or a coffee. A bunch of us decided to wait over the road for news, if you fancy it?"

She looked at me then, but her intense eyes made me a little uncomfortable. I held them anyway, even as I squirmed.

"Actually I was planning on waiting here until we heard anything. But thanks."

I nodded and walked away. I'm sure she kept watching.

Over at Doc's, we settled into a sort of comfortable uneasiness, using idle chatter to cover the one thing that we were all thinking about. We got talking about Dr. Carter, and his days as a med student. We all laughed when Haleh recalled a story about one of Lucy's transgender cases. It was the laughter that did it, I think, because at that moment, Chuny walked in. She didn't even have to open her mouth; I don't think anyone wanted her to. It would have made it all the more real. It was Lucy. She was dead. Her internal wounds from the psychopath stabbing were too severe. Carter was critical but steady. Lucy was dead. No one could seem to find their voices. I found it surreal. All I could think about was Kerry. I made my excuses quickly. I didn't want to seem rude, but most were going their separate ways. Sometimes it's better to be alone by yourself than alone in the crowd. I ordered two tall lattes to go, and before I knew it, I was back inside the ER. She was still there, sitting in the same place. It wouldn't have surprised me if it was the same chart. I put the coffee down in front of her. The noise startled her and she met my eyes in confusion.

"I thought you could use this."

She put her pen down carefully and picked up the cardboard mug. She seemed to study it in depth. I braced myself for what was coming next; a big brush-off most likely.

"I prefer their coffee to the machine here."

I think my sigh of relief was audible, because she smiled softly. She was heartbreaking.

"Thanks, Abby."

I sat down next to her then. Perhaps I should have left. There were a lot of 'perhapses' in my life, but the way I see it, they're better than 'what ifs'.

She didn't seem to mind, and the silence was comfortable.

"She asked me to be her mentor. When I got promoted, I told her I couldn't."

I didn't know what, if anything, she wanted me to say to this. Maybe she was talking to herself more than me.

"You feel guilty."

She could take it as a question or a statement.

"It won't achieve anything. But yes, I do. If I knew-"

"If you knew what was going to happen to her, you'd have had security onto this guy after his initial workup, therefore stopping the whole thing. You still wouldn't be mentoring her."

Her head snapped up from staring at the chart to fix me with an ice-cold stare. I froze, appropriately enough. Bluntness had always been my problem – tact never my strong point. But what was the point in wallowing in self-pity? Her guilt wasn't logical, if guilt can ever be logical. She needed tor realise, before she wallowed too much and couldn't find her way back. Easy enough to see in other people.

"Think about it, Dr. Weaver."

I turned to walk away. I knew that I'd blown it, whatever it was. I thought sure I had, until I heard her voice.

"I know you're right."

I stopped walking, but I didn't dare turn around. Suddenly I felt her behind me, and I stopped breathing.

"I think I could do with something stronger." She brushed past me, letting me catch a hint of her scent. I hadn't been close enough to smell anything other than the familiar artificialness of the hospital. It caught me off guard, and I stood there dumbfounded, until she turned around.

"That's if the offer's still on, of course."It was surreal; I could see myself following her as if I was watching it unfold from a distance. Perhaps you shouldn't this surrealness was saying. But I figured if it turned out that perhaps I shouldn't have, it would still be better than looking back and thinking perhaps I should have.