RATING: It should be somewhere in between PG13 and R, but I guess I'll
settle with PG13 here, with warning for language.
TIMELINE: Spoilers up to "All in the Family" (Season 6).
Becomes an Alternate Universe fic after that point.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from ER. They are
the property of Warner Brothers, Constant C Productions, etc.
ARCHIVE: You are welcome to download this story for your own
reading, but please do not archive it without my permission.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This first chapter begins four months after the
Valentine's Day "incident" in Season 6.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rhythmic beating of the rain against the window was a soothing sound.
John Carter found himself staring at the fat droplets as then ran down
the glass in swirling rivulets. The rain had come furiously and suddenly,
probably catching many people outside offguard. He imagined them
running for shelter under a nearby doorway or struggling to open their
umbrellas before becoming soaked. Perhaps this would help to cool
things off. The heat had been particularly unbearable today since
the air conditioner had decided to become temperamental. It would
tease them by blowing wonderfully cold air for a few minutes, only to shut
down again.
The rumble of thunder in the distance served to snap him out of his trance.
He lowered his eyes back to the stack of papers in front of him and
tried to recall where he'd left off. It was a slow day in the ER and
that had its good and bad points. He'd been able to catch up on a lot
of paperwork, so that was a plus. But for the most part, he preferred
to be kept busy. Whenever the pace slowed down, he tended to become
melancholy and reflective, his thoughts straying to the past. His mind
unwillingly started to wander again but this time he forced himself back
to the task at hand.
After several more minutes, he tossed the pen aside, massaging the
base of his neck. He'd been slouched over the desk for far too long
and now his lower back was complaining. Ever since his injury -
the stabbing - he found it uncomfortable to sit still for long periods
at a time. He frequently needed to get up and move around to
stretch out his back muscles.
"Hey Carter, there you are," Dave Malucci called out, stepping halfway
into the lounge. "Some of us are going over to Doc's for lunch.
Wanna join us?"
"No thanks."
"Why not?"
"I'm not hungry."
"So? Come and hang out with us anyway."
"Some other time, Dave. You go on." John waited for the sound of
the door to close but it never came. He turned his head to find Dave
staring at him. "What?" he said, sounding irritated.
"Nothing." Dave started to retreat but then, apparently changing
his mind, he let the door swing shut behind him as he came to stand
beside John. "No, it's not nothing. What's wrong with you?"
Not liking where this conversation was headed, John avoided his gaze.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't act dumb. It doesn't suit you. You know exactly what I mean.
You mope around all day. You never socialize with us anymore.
I haven't seen you go out on a date in I don't know how long. The only
time you seem happy is when you have a nice, bloody trauma to work on.
It's been four months, Carter. Get over it already."
Dave didn't mean to sound so harsh but he was honestly worried about
the guy. Everyone was. They kept waiting for Carter to return to
his old self but it just wasn't happening. If anything, he appeared
to be acting more depressed and withdrawn as the months wore on.
It was time someone confronted him about it. And since no one else
seemed willing to do it, he decided to step up to the plate.
"I am not having this discussion with you." John got to his feet,
partly because his back demanded it but also so he could use his
slight advantage in height to stare Dave down.
But Dave wasn't ready to back off yet as he returned John's glare.
"Well, someone has to talk to you. Lucy's dead. We're all sorry
and we all miss her. But we have to move on, man. Just what do you
think you're accomplishing by wallowing in guilt, or whatever it is
that you're wallowing in?"
John clenched his teeth together as the dull throb in his back
began to grow worse. The combination of the pain and Dave's words,
which were cutting too close to home, made his temper flare.
"Get out of my way. I'm not talking to you." He tried to step
past him but Dave moved with him to block his exit. "Get the fuck
out of my way, Malucci and leave me alone," John snarled, shoving Dave
to the side with one hand and then slamming out of the lounge.
Dave absently rubbed his shoulder where Carter had pushed him,
shaking his head with regret. That had not gone well. Not at all.
They'd never exactly been the best of friends, so he supposed he
wasn't the right person to get through to him. Hopefully someone
else would have better luck.
***************
After cooling off in the cafeteria with an iced tea, John made his
way back to the ER. He quickly perused the board, noticing that
there were a few more patients to see now.
"Carter, think you can handle a four-year old boy with a leg lac
or should I page Dr. Finch?" Chuny Marquez joked. It pleased her
to see him smile at her comment.
"I guess I can manage," he replied, picking out the chart from
the rack.
"His mother's name is Rose. She's really pretty. And she's not
wearing a ring."
John tried not to roll his eyes at Chuny's rather obvious attempt
to perk his interest. Lately, she'd been trying to set him up with
this friend or that cousin. He hated blind dates. She'd done this
before and it had never worked out. He was running out of inventive
ways to politely say, 'forget it, I'm not interested'.
Scanning over the preliminary information on the chart as he walked,
he pushed open the door to Exam Room 2. Two pairs of eyes belonging
to mother and son looked up at him anxiously. "Hello, I'm Dr. Carter.
I understand your son took a fall?"
"Yes. We were at the park and he fell off the jungle gym.
I...I don't think it's broken." The worry was plainly etched in
Rose Philips' brow and she gripped her purse as if it were a lifeline.
She stepped back from her son so the doctor could do his work.
"Well, let's have a look." John could see the fear in the boy's
wide blue eyes so he approached him slowly, giving what he hoped
was a reassuring smile. "Hi, Joshua. I need to look you over and
make sure you're okay."
Joshua kept darting nervous glances between John and his mother,
though he didn't say a word. Rose moved closer to him again,
murmuring, "It's all right, Josh. Dr. Carter wants to help you."
As John gently reached out to inspect the boy's leg, Joshua flinched,
crying out for the first time. "Mommy!" He tried to scramble
backwards on the gurney he was seated on until Rose put her arms
around him. Clutching at the front of her dress, he buried his
face against it. He made no further sound but his small body shook
with tremors.
Rose stroked his back, giving John an apolgetic look. "I'm sorry
about this. He gets this way with strangers. He's just very shy."
"That's okay. Perhaps he'd be more at ease sitting on your lap,"
John suggested.
Nodding, Rose waited until Joshua had calmed down somewhat and climbed
onto the gurney. She lifted him onto her lap and this time he didn't
protest when John began to examine his leg. It wasn't broken and
would only require a few stitches.
John worked quickly, explaining everything as he went along. Secure in
his mother's arms, Joshua remained surprisingly still until John was
finished.
"All done," he announced, snipping the thread. "You did great, kiddo.
You're a brave boy."
"Hear that, Josh? I'm very proud of you." Rose kissed the top of
her son's head. She then flashed a warm and grateful smile in
John's direction. "Thank you, Dr. Carter. I know it's silly, but I
was so worried about him."
"It's not silly at all." Getting to his feet, he moved the tray he'd
been using aside. His gaze connected with hers and he found himself
almost unconsciously returning her smile. He also realized, rather
belatedly, that she was soaked through from the rain. She wasn't
dripping, but her long dress clung to her curves and her hair curled
from the dampness. "I'm sorry, I should have offered you a towel.
You must be cold."
"Actually, no. It's a bit of a relief from the heat. One of the
nurses did give me a towel when I first got here. And luckily
I had a change of clothes for Josh."
Rose set her son back on the gurney and hopped off, starting to gather
their things together. John stripped off his gloves, glancing out
the window. "Looks like the storm has blown over. The sun is out again."
"Pity. I rather enjoyed the rain." Slinging her bag over one shoulder,
she hoisted Joshua against the other one. He immediately rested his head
against her neck, worn out from the adventures of the day. "Thank you
again for all your help."
"You're welcome. I'll see you out."
He held the door open for her and walked with her as far as the admit desk.
He waved goodbye to Joshua but the boy was already starting to nod off
as Rose headed out into the sunshine.
"Wow, who was that?"
Dave's familiar voice rang out loudly and John gave him an annoyed look.
"Nobody," he replied shortly, quickly signing off Joshua Philips' chart.
"She was a total babe. Did you ask her out?"
"No, I didn't."
John had intended to apologize to Dave for blowing up at him earlier,
but the man was grating on his nerves again.
"Oh, you just let her walk out?" Chuny asked, sounding disappointed.
"Don't you start too," John snapped. "Look, I know you both have good
intentions but just stop. Stop trying to organize my social life."
He directed his gaze towards Chuny. "I don't need you to set me up
with your friends." Holding up the chart and pointing it towards Dave,
he said, "And you. Just stay away from me for a while. That's all I ask."
Tossing the chart onto the desk, he strode quickly outside to get some
much needed fresh air.
Having witnessed the scene from the sidelines, Kerry Weaver shook her
head as she approached them. "What do you two think you're doing?"
Chuny regarded her with a guilty expression but Dave looked defensive
as he waved his arms for emphasis. "He needs some serious help.
I know you've told us to give him space but it's been four months.
I don't see him getting any better, do you?"
"And you think setting him up on a date is going to help?" Kerry retorted,
a sarcastic edge to her tone.
"Well it sure as hell can't hurt. We have to do something." He paused.
"Why don't you talk to him? He might listen to you."
Kerry wished that were true. She'd already tried so many times to get
through to him, without success. But she was willing to try again.
"I'll talk to him. But in the meantime, I want you both to back off.
Is that understood?"
They nodded in unison. Dave waited until Kerry was out of hearing range
before he muttered," Maybe I should have asked her out."
Glowering at him, Chuny punched him high on the arm, and Dave rubbed at
his sore shoulder for the second time that day.
***************
Stepping out of the elevator, he could hear the muffled sound of
blaring music and it grew increasingly louder as he got closer to
the door. John glanced wearily at his watch. It was just after
one a.m.. But it was a Saturday night, so he supposed he could
hardly complain. Maybe he could convince them to turn down the
volume a notch, though.
Not surprised to find the door to the suite unlocked, he turned the knob
and walked in. He was expecting the apartment to be filled with people
but he only counted about ten. Furniture had been pushed to the side
to make room for a dance floor. Several people were dancing - although
flailing might be a better term - enthusiastically to the beat. One was
passed out cold on the floor; another on the couch. He could see a few
more out on the balcony, drinks in hand. The one person he didn't see was
his cousin. Perhaps he was in his room or had gone out to replenish the
always bottomless liquor stock.
John said hello to a couple of people he recognized, trying to make his
way unnoticed to the bedroom. Of course, he didn't step ten feet
before he found a soft, warm, feminine body suddenly pressed against his.
He gazed down into a pair of attractive green eyes that were slightly
bloodshot.
"My name's Angela but my friends call me Angel," she purred, her long
fingers stroking his upper arm. She smiled broadly, showing even,
white teeth. "What's your name, honey?"
Doing his best to suppress a laugh at her obvious come on, he bared his
own teeth, gesturing with his free hand. "You've got lipstick on your
teeth. Right here."
She instantly closed her mouth, her smile not quite meeting her eyes now.
But she hadn't given up yet. "I don't live too far from here. Wanna come
to my place for a drink?"
"The only place I'm going is to bed. Alone." He extricated himself
from her clinging grip and turned away, grateful that she didn't pursue him.
While she'd been physically attractive, he hadn't been drawn to her at all.
In fact, he hadn't been drawn to anyone since Elaine. And how long ago
had that been? Maybe Dave was right. Maybe there *was* something wrong
with him.
With that disturbing thought, he entered his room, shutting the door
behind him. The loudness of the music was only somewhat diminished but
he could live with it. He was so tired anyway, he'd probably fall asleep
the moment he flopped onto the bed.
The room was dimly lit by moonlight coming in through the large window.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he moved towards the bed.
That's when he heard the sound. A sort of scuffling noise.
He stopped breathing, his heart starting to thud so rapidly he was afraid
it would burst right out of his chest. He knew he wasn't alone. He could
feel someone else's presence in the room and that knowledge made the nape
of his neck crawl. He told himself to turn around and face whoever was
there but he was frozen to the spot.
*It's just someone from the party* one part of his brain said reasonably.
But the darkened room, the music outside, the slight noise behind him...
His mind formed the irrational conviction that if he turned around,
he'd feel the wickedly sharp blade of a knife sinking into his flesh.
Tearing into the muscles in his back. Rendering him with such immense
pain that he'd be reduced to writhing on the floor in agony, unable to
help himself or anyone else.
His eyes darted to the outline of the lamp on his bedside table. It was
only two steps away. All he had to do was walk over there and turn on
the switch. Bathe the room in light and face his foe, whomever it
might be.
How much time had passed since he'd heard the sound? Five seconds?
Five minutes? He felt the sweat pop out on his forehead, his mind
screaming at him to do something. When the noise came again,
accompanied this time by what sounded like a human groan, he lunged
for the lamp in one giant leap.
With a barely audible click, the room brightened with soft white light.
"Ow, my eyes. Turn that off," a distinctly female voice complained.
"Johnny, is that you?"
Realizing he was still holding his breath, John slowly exhaled.
No longer afraid of the unknown, he walked around the foot of the bed,
knowing exactly what he'd find on the other side.
"Hi Tammy," he greeted, hoping that his voice sounded normal and
didn't betray the paralyzing fear he'd felt just moments ago.
He quickly averted his gaze when his eyes fell upon her half-undressed
form. He stared at his cousin instead, who was blinking up at him
with a lazy smile.
"Sorry to crash in your room. But mine was being occupied, if you
know what I mean," Kevin Carter said, lounging back on the makeshift
bed of pillows they'd made on the floor. When John didn't respond,
he added, "Hey, at least we didn't mess up your bed, right?"
"Kevin, make him turn the light off," Tammy wheedled, her hand snaking
underneath his shirt and starting to forge below his stomach before
he snatched it away.
"Can't do that. It's his room," he murmured, starting to sit up.
"I thought this was your apartment," she whined.
Kevin ignored her, getting to his feet a little unsteadily.
He peered at John more closely. "Hey, you okay? You don't look
too good."
John drew in a shaky breath. His heartrate was almost back to normal
but with the rush of adrenaline leaving his system, his knees felt
weak. He sat down on the edge of the bed, muttering, "I'm fine.
You just surprised me, that's all."
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting you to be home 'till later. Thought we'd
have this party wrapped up by one at the latest."
"It is after one."
"Oh, shit. Sorry, man. I'll get everyone cleared out of here.
Tammy, time to go."
"You don't have to do that," John said tiredly. "She's right.
It's your apartment."
"Yeah, why do I have to leave?" she piped up, looking entirely too
comfortable where she was.
"Get moving, Tammy. I mean it," Kevin snapped, heading towards the
door. "I'll get rid of the others."
The music was soon cut to an abrupt halt and John could hear Tammy
muttering under her breath. She'd been going out with Kevin for
almost two months now and as far as he could remember, she'd never
had a pleasant thing to say. And she never held back her opinion
either. "You know, I would think a doctor would be able to afford
his own place," she said, starting to button her blouse. "How much
longer are you going to freeload off Kevin?"
She had a valid point and it was a question John had started asking
himself. He had only intended this arrangement to be temporary.
When Kerry had told him to move out of her basement, he'd immediately
started looking for an apartment but couldn't seem to find anything
he liked. That's when Kevin had offered up his place. It was the
penthouse suite in one of several buildings owned by his father.
He was living there rent-free, of course.
John had planned on finding his own place within a month or so,
but somehow one had stretched into five. Then, at the beginning
of February, he'd contemplated resuming his apartment search again.
But then came the stabbing. That had put his life on hold for
a while. Now he was starting to run out of excuses, even though
Kevin insisted that he didn't mind sharing the space. He joked that
he could fit his whole department at work in here and there would
still be plenty of room.
But Tammy was right. It was time that he stopped taking advantage
of Kevin's generosity.
Not bothering to say goodbye, Tammy soon strode out of the room.
Glad to be left alone at last, John flung out his arms and flopped
backwards onto the bed. He closed his eyes, feeling his body
finally start to relax by degrees.
Kevin softly knocked on the door, peeking his head in. "Everyone's
leaving, except for a couple of people that are oblivious to the world.
I'm going to let them sleep it off."
"That's fine," John nodded, giving way to a yawn.
Kevin came up to the bed, appraising John with dark eyes. "Are you
sure you're okay? You were white as a sheet before."
John considered telling him about his momentary panic attack but
then thought the better of it. He didn't want to unload his problems
onto his younger cousin, especially since out of all his family
members, Kevin had seemed to be the most affected by the stabbing.
Both his sister and parents had called him from Europe when they'd
heard about the incident from his grandmother. They'd been concerned
but then assumed he was fine after learning he pulled through the
surgery without complications. His grandparents had dutifully
visited him at the hospital. Gamma had even asked if he'd like to
stay at the house during his recovery. But he'd declined,
stating that he had everything he needed at Kevin's place.
Kevin had been a wreck upon hearing how closely John had come to dying.
As cousins, they'd always been close but since losing his brother Chase,
he'd looked up to John like another older brother. Whenever he'd come
to visit him at County, John had spent most of his time reassuring Kevin
that he was okay; that he wasn't going to have some sort of a relapse
and die.
So now, as he looked up into Kevin's worried face, he lied easily.
"I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone in here."
"I'm sorry about that," Kevin apologized. "It won't happen again.
Well, you look beat so I'll let you sleep. Goodnight."
"'Night, Kev."
The door closed and John turned off the lamp. The room was black once
more but this time, he knew for certain that nothing was hidden in
the shadows. Upset with himself for crumbling under the weight of
his overactive imagination and fearful mind games, he punched his
pillow in frustration. Sleep was a long time coming as he lay there
in the dark, staring up at the moon.
TO BE CONTINUED
settle with PG13 here, with warning for language.
TIMELINE: Spoilers up to "All in the Family" (Season 6).
Becomes an Alternate Universe fic after that point.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from ER. They are
the property of Warner Brothers, Constant C Productions, etc.
ARCHIVE: You are welcome to download this story for your own
reading, but please do not archive it without my permission.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This first chapter begins four months after the
Valentine's Day "incident" in Season 6.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rhythmic beating of the rain against the window was a soothing sound.
John Carter found himself staring at the fat droplets as then ran down
the glass in swirling rivulets. The rain had come furiously and suddenly,
probably catching many people outside offguard. He imagined them
running for shelter under a nearby doorway or struggling to open their
umbrellas before becoming soaked. Perhaps this would help to cool
things off. The heat had been particularly unbearable today since
the air conditioner had decided to become temperamental. It would
tease them by blowing wonderfully cold air for a few minutes, only to shut
down again.
The rumble of thunder in the distance served to snap him out of his trance.
He lowered his eyes back to the stack of papers in front of him and
tried to recall where he'd left off. It was a slow day in the ER and
that had its good and bad points. He'd been able to catch up on a lot
of paperwork, so that was a plus. But for the most part, he preferred
to be kept busy. Whenever the pace slowed down, he tended to become
melancholy and reflective, his thoughts straying to the past. His mind
unwillingly started to wander again but this time he forced himself back
to the task at hand.
After several more minutes, he tossed the pen aside, massaging the
base of his neck. He'd been slouched over the desk for far too long
and now his lower back was complaining. Ever since his injury -
the stabbing - he found it uncomfortable to sit still for long periods
at a time. He frequently needed to get up and move around to
stretch out his back muscles.
"Hey Carter, there you are," Dave Malucci called out, stepping halfway
into the lounge. "Some of us are going over to Doc's for lunch.
Wanna join us?"
"No thanks."
"Why not?"
"I'm not hungry."
"So? Come and hang out with us anyway."
"Some other time, Dave. You go on." John waited for the sound of
the door to close but it never came. He turned his head to find Dave
staring at him. "What?" he said, sounding irritated.
"Nothing." Dave started to retreat but then, apparently changing
his mind, he let the door swing shut behind him as he came to stand
beside John. "No, it's not nothing. What's wrong with you?"
Not liking where this conversation was headed, John avoided his gaze.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't act dumb. It doesn't suit you. You know exactly what I mean.
You mope around all day. You never socialize with us anymore.
I haven't seen you go out on a date in I don't know how long. The only
time you seem happy is when you have a nice, bloody trauma to work on.
It's been four months, Carter. Get over it already."
Dave didn't mean to sound so harsh but he was honestly worried about
the guy. Everyone was. They kept waiting for Carter to return to
his old self but it just wasn't happening. If anything, he appeared
to be acting more depressed and withdrawn as the months wore on.
It was time someone confronted him about it. And since no one else
seemed willing to do it, he decided to step up to the plate.
"I am not having this discussion with you." John got to his feet,
partly because his back demanded it but also so he could use his
slight advantage in height to stare Dave down.
But Dave wasn't ready to back off yet as he returned John's glare.
"Well, someone has to talk to you. Lucy's dead. We're all sorry
and we all miss her. But we have to move on, man. Just what do you
think you're accomplishing by wallowing in guilt, or whatever it is
that you're wallowing in?"
John clenched his teeth together as the dull throb in his back
began to grow worse. The combination of the pain and Dave's words,
which were cutting too close to home, made his temper flare.
"Get out of my way. I'm not talking to you." He tried to step
past him but Dave moved with him to block his exit. "Get the fuck
out of my way, Malucci and leave me alone," John snarled, shoving Dave
to the side with one hand and then slamming out of the lounge.
Dave absently rubbed his shoulder where Carter had pushed him,
shaking his head with regret. That had not gone well. Not at all.
They'd never exactly been the best of friends, so he supposed he
wasn't the right person to get through to him. Hopefully someone
else would have better luck.
***************
After cooling off in the cafeteria with an iced tea, John made his
way back to the ER. He quickly perused the board, noticing that
there were a few more patients to see now.
"Carter, think you can handle a four-year old boy with a leg lac
or should I page Dr. Finch?" Chuny Marquez joked. It pleased her
to see him smile at her comment.
"I guess I can manage," he replied, picking out the chart from
the rack.
"His mother's name is Rose. She's really pretty. And she's not
wearing a ring."
John tried not to roll his eyes at Chuny's rather obvious attempt
to perk his interest. Lately, she'd been trying to set him up with
this friend or that cousin. He hated blind dates. She'd done this
before and it had never worked out. He was running out of inventive
ways to politely say, 'forget it, I'm not interested'.
Scanning over the preliminary information on the chart as he walked,
he pushed open the door to Exam Room 2. Two pairs of eyes belonging
to mother and son looked up at him anxiously. "Hello, I'm Dr. Carter.
I understand your son took a fall?"
"Yes. We were at the park and he fell off the jungle gym.
I...I don't think it's broken." The worry was plainly etched in
Rose Philips' brow and she gripped her purse as if it were a lifeline.
She stepped back from her son so the doctor could do his work.
"Well, let's have a look." John could see the fear in the boy's
wide blue eyes so he approached him slowly, giving what he hoped
was a reassuring smile. "Hi, Joshua. I need to look you over and
make sure you're okay."
Joshua kept darting nervous glances between John and his mother,
though he didn't say a word. Rose moved closer to him again,
murmuring, "It's all right, Josh. Dr. Carter wants to help you."
As John gently reached out to inspect the boy's leg, Joshua flinched,
crying out for the first time. "Mommy!" He tried to scramble
backwards on the gurney he was seated on until Rose put her arms
around him. Clutching at the front of her dress, he buried his
face against it. He made no further sound but his small body shook
with tremors.
Rose stroked his back, giving John an apolgetic look. "I'm sorry
about this. He gets this way with strangers. He's just very shy."
"That's okay. Perhaps he'd be more at ease sitting on your lap,"
John suggested.
Nodding, Rose waited until Joshua had calmed down somewhat and climbed
onto the gurney. She lifted him onto her lap and this time he didn't
protest when John began to examine his leg. It wasn't broken and
would only require a few stitches.
John worked quickly, explaining everything as he went along. Secure in
his mother's arms, Joshua remained surprisingly still until John was
finished.
"All done," he announced, snipping the thread. "You did great, kiddo.
You're a brave boy."
"Hear that, Josh? I'm very proud of you." Rose kissed the top of
her son's head. She then flashed a warm and grateful smile in
John's direction. "Thank you, Dr. Carter. I know it's silly, but I
was so worried about him."
"It's not silly at all." Getting to his feet, he moved the tray he'd
been using aside. His gaze connected with hers and he found himself
almost unconsciously returning her smile. He also realized, rather
belatedly, that she was soaked through from the rain. She wasn't
dripping, but her long dress clung to her curves and her hair curled
from the dampness. "I'm sorry, I should have offered you a towel.
You must be cold."
"Actually, no. It's a bit of a relief from the heat. One of the
nurses did give me a towel when I first got here. And luckily
I had a change of clothes for Josh."
Rose set her son back on the gurney and hopped off, starting to gather
their things together. John stripped off his gloves, glancing out
the window. "Looks like the storm has blown over. The sun is out again."
"Pity. I rather enjoyed the rain." Slinging her bag over one shoulder,
she hoisted Joshua against the other one. He immediately rested his head
against her neck, worn out from the adventures of the day. "Thank you
again for all your help."
"You're welcome. I'll see you out."
He held the door open for her and walked with her as far as the admit desk.
He waved goodbye to Joshua but the boy was already starting to nod off
as Rose headed out into the sunshine.
"Wow, who was that?"
Dave's familiar voice rang out loudly and John gave him an annoyed look.
"Nobody," he replied shortly, quickly signing off Joshua Philips' chart.
"She was a total babe. Did you ask her out?"
"No, I didn't."
John had intended to apologize to Dave for blowing up at him earlier,
but the man was grating on his nerves again.
"Oh, you just let her walk out?" Chuny asked, sounding disappointed.
"Don't you start too," John snapped. "Look, I know you both have good
intentions but just stop. Stop trying to organize my social life."
He directed his gaze towards Chuny. "I don't need you to set me up
with your friends." Holding up the chart and pointing it towards Dave,
he said, "And you. Just stay away from me for a while. That's all I ask."
Tossing the chart onto the desk, he strode quickly outside to get some
much needed fresh air.
Having witnessed the scene from the sidelines, Kerry Weaver shook her
head as she approached them. "What do you two think you're doing?"
Chuny regarded her with a guilty expression but Dave looked defensive
as he waved his arms for emphasis. "He needs some serious help.
I know you've told us to give him space but it's been four months.
I don't see him getting any better, do you?"
"And you think setting him up on a date is going to help?" Kerry retorted,
a sarcastic edge to her tone.
"Well it sure as hell can't hurt. We have to do something." He paused.
"Why don't you talk to him? He might listen to you."
Kerry wished that were true. She'd already tried so many times to get
through to him, without success. But she was willing to try again.
"I'll talk to him. But in the meantime, I want you both to back off.
Is that understood?"
They nodded in unison. Dave waited until Kerry was out of hearing range
before he muttered," Maybe I should have asked her out."
Glowering at him, Chuny punched him high on the arm, and Dave rubbed at
his sore shoulder for the second time that day.
***************
Stepping out of the elevator, he could hear the muffled sound of
blaring music and it grew increasingly louder as he got closer to
the door. John glanced wearily at his watch. It was just after
one a.m.. But it was a Saturday night, so he supposed he could
hardly complain. Maybe he could convince them to turn down the
volume a notch, though.
Not surprised to find the door to the suite unlocked, he turned the knob
and walked in. He was expecting the apartment to be filled with people
but he only counted about ten. Furniture had been pushed to the side
to make room for a dance floor. Several people were dancing - although
flailing might be a better term - enthusiastically to the beat. One was
passed out cold on the floor; another on the couch. He could see a few
more out on the balcony, drinks in hand. The one person he didn't see was
his cousin. Perhaps he was in his room or had gone out to replenish the
always bottomless liquor stock.
John said hello to a couple of people he recognized, trying to make his
way unnoticed to the bedroom. Of course, he didn't step ten feet
before he found a soft, warm, feminine body suddenly pressed against his.
He gazed down into a pair of attractive green eyes that were slightly
bloodshot.
"My name's Angela but my friends call me Angel," she purred, her long
fingers stroking his upper arm. She smiled broadly, showing even,
white teeth. "What's your name, honey?"
Doing his best to suppress a laugh at her obvious come on, he bared his
own teeth, gesturing with his free hand. "You've got lipstick on your
teeth. Right here."
She instantly closed her mouth, her smile not quite meeting her eyes now.
But she hadn't given up yet. "I don't live too far from here. Wanna come
to my place for a drink?"
"The only place I'm going is to bed. Alone." He extricated himself
from her clinging grip and turned away, grateful that she didn't pursue him.
While she'd been physically attractive, he hadn't been drawn to her at all.
In fact, he hadn't been drawn to anyone since Elaine. And how long ago
had that been? Maybe Dave was right. Maybe there *was* something wrong
with him.
With that disturbing thought, he entered his room, shutting the door
behind him. The loudness of the music was only somewhat diminished but
he could live with it. He was so tired anyway, he'd probably fall asleep
the moment he flopped onto the bed.
The room was dimly lit by moonlight coming in through the large window.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he moved towards the bed.
That's when he heard the sound. A sort of scuffling noise.
He stopped breathing, his heart starting to thud so rapidly he was afraid
it would burst right out of his chest. He knew he wasn't alone. He could
feel someone else's presence in the room and that knowledge made the nape
of his neck crawl. He told himself to turn around and face whoever was
there but he was frozen to the spot.
*It's just someone from the party* one part of his brain said reasonably.
But the darkened room, the music outside, the slight noise behind him...
His mind formed the irrational conviction that if he turned around,
he'd feel the wickedly sharp blade of a knife sinking into his flesh.
Tearing into the muscles in his back. Rendering him with such immense
pain that he'd be reduced to writhing on the floor in agony, unable to
help himself or anyone else.
His eyes darted to the outline of the lamp on his bedside table. It was
only two steps away. All he had to do was walk over there and turn on
the switch. Bathe the room in light and face his foe, whomever it
might be.
How much time had passed since he'd heard the sound? Five seconds?
Five minutes? He felt the sweat pop out on his forehead, his mind
screaming at him to do something. When the noise came again,
accompanied this time by what sounded like a human groan, he lunged
for the lamp in one giant leap.
With a barely audible click, the room brightened with soft white light.
"Ow, my eyes. Turn that off," a distinctly female voice complained.
"Johnny, is that you?"
Realizing he was still holding his breath, John slowly exhaled.
No longer afraid of the unknown, he walked around the foot of the bed,
knowing exactly what he'd find on the other side.
"Hi Tammy," he greeted, hoping that his voice sounded normal and
didn't betray the paralyzing fear he'd felt just moments ago.
He quickly averted his gaze when his eyes fell upon her half-undressed
form. He stared at his cousin instead, who was blinking up at him
with a lazy smile.
"Sorry to crash in your room. But mine was being occupied, if you
know what I mean," Kevin Carter said, lounging back on the makeshift
bed of pillows they'd made on the floor. When John didn't respond,
he added, "Hey, at least we didn't mess up your bed, right?"
"Kevin, make him turn the light off," Tammy wheedled, her hand snaking
underneath his shirt and starting to forge below his stomach before
he snatched it away.
"Can't do that. It's his room," he murmured, starting to sit up.
"I thought this was your apartment," she whined.
Kevin ignored her, getting to his feet a little unsteadily.
He peered at John more closely. "Hey, you okay? You don't look
too good."
John drew in a shaky breath. His heartrate was almost back to normal
but with the rush of adrenaline leaving his system, his knees felt
weak. He sat down on the edge of the bed, muttering, "I'm fine.
You just surprised me, that's all."
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting you to be home 'till later. Thought we'd
have this party wrapped up by one at the latest."
"It is after one."
"Oh, shit. Sorry, man. I'll get everyone cleared out of here.
Tammy, time to go."
"You don't have to do that," John said tiredly. "She's right.
It's your apartment."
"Yeah, why do I have to leave?" she piped up, looking entirely too
comfortable where she was.
"Get moving, Tammy. I mean it," Kevin snapped, heading towards the
door. "I'll get rid of the others."
The music was soon cut to an abrupt halt and John could hear Tammy
muttering under her breath. She'd been going out with Kevin for
almost two months now and as far as he could remember, she'd never
had a pleasant thing to say. And she never held back her opinion
either. "You know, I would think a doctor would be able to afford
his own place," she said, starting to button her blouse. "How much
longer are you going to freeload off Kevin?"
She had a valid point and it was a question John had started asking
himself. He had only intended this arrangement to be temporary.
When Kerry had told him to move out of her basement, he'd immediately
started looking for an apartment but couldn't seem to find anything
he liked. That's when Kevin had offered up his place. It was the
penthouse suite in one of several buildings owned by his father.
He was living there rent-free, of course.
John had planned on finding his own place within a month or so,
but somehow one had stretched into five. Then, at the beginning
of February, he'd contemplated resuming his apartment search again.
But then came the stabbing. That had put his life on hold for
a while. Now he was starting to run out of excuses, even though
Kevin insisted that he didn't mind sharing the space. He joked that
he could fit his whole department at work in here and there would
still be plenty of room.
But Tammy was right. It was time that he stopped taking advantage
of Kevin's generosity.
Not bothering to say goodbye, Tammy soon strode out of the room.
Glad to be left alone at last, John flung out his arms and flopped
backwards onto the bed. He closed his eyes, feeling his body
finally start to relax by degrees.
Kevin softly knocked on the door, peeking his head in. "Everyone's
leaving, except for a couple of people that are oblivious to the world.
I'm going to let them sleep it off."
"That's fine," John nodded, giving way to a yawn.
Kevin came up to the bed, appraising John with dark eyes. "Are you
sure you're okay? You were white as a sheet before."
John considered telling him about his momentary panic attack but
then thought the better of it. He didn't want to unload his problems
onto his younger cousin, especially since out of all his family
members, Kevin had seemed to be the most affected by the stabbing.
Both his sister and parents had called him from Europe when they'd
heard about the incident from his grandmother. They'd been concerned
but then assumed he was fine after learning he pulled through the
surgery without complications. His grandparents had dutifully
visited him at the hospital. Gamma had even asked if he'd like to
stay at the house during his recovery. But he'd declined,
stating that he had everything he needed at Kevin's place.
Kevin had been a wreck upon hearing how closely John had come to dying.
As cousins, they'd always been close but since losing his brother Chase,
he'd looked up to John like another older brother. Whenever he'd come
to visit him at County, John had spent most of his time reassuring Kevin
that he was okay; that he wasn't going to have some sort of a relapse
and die.
So now, as he looked up into Kevin's worried face, he lied easily.
"I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone in here."
"I'm sorry about that," Kevin apologized. "It won't happen again.
Well, you look beat so I'll let you sleep. Goodnight."
"'Night, Kev."
The door closed and John turned off the lamp. The room was black once
more but this time, he knew for certain that nothing was hidden in
the shadows. Upset with himself for crumbling under the weight of
his overactive imagination and fearful mind games, he punched his
pillow in frustration. Sleep was a long time coming as he lay there
in the dark, staring up at the moon.
TO BE CONTINUED