Welcome to the sequel to The Difference and Keep Breathing, entitled "Use Somebody." This is the third and probably final part to Carter and Gracie's story, which will span all the way to the series finale. As always, thank you for your hits and reviews; I hope they'll continue with this story as well. Updates are when possible; here's the first chapter for now. If you enjoy, please review.

It takes a night to make it dawn. And it takes a day to make you yawn, brother. And it takes some old to make you young, it takes some cold to know the sun. It takes the one to have the other. And it takes no time to fall in love, but it takes you years to know what love is. It takes some fears to make you trust, it takes those tears to make it rust. It takes the dust to have it polished.
— 'Life Is Wonderful', Jason Mraz

FREEFALL
Thanksgiving Day 2003

"Why are you doing this to him, Gracie?"

It was easy to wonder what he was doing, thousands of miles away in the Congo, as she rushed around the apartment she shared with her brother on a clear Thanksgiving day. Gracie was exhausted — she had worked double overtime the day before and had returned home with the intention of having the holiday off. That hope was dashed when she was paged with a 911 back to County.

She spat toothpaste into the bathroom sink as she retorted with annoyance, "I'm doing this? He did this to himself! And don't you dare tell me otherwise!"

"The man proposes to you, asks you to be with him while he saves lives, and you ignore him!" Malucci leaned against the doorframe, his dissatisfaction with his little sister's actions weighing heavy on his features. "This is all you, sweetheart."

"Well, I'm not a perfect person."

"You're still wearing his ring, for God's sake."

Gracie paused, her hand moving to absently touch the diamond ring she had strung on a chain around her neck. It wasn't on a finger, but he had a damn point. And she hated that. After a good moment, she went about her business, throwing her toothbrush into a cup by the sink as she snapped, "You know what, Dave? How about you stop trying to involve yourself in my love life and—"

"I wasn't aware this was about love lives."

Gracie glared at him as he blocked her from trying to exit the bathroom. "I hate you."

"Do you really have to go in today?"

She pushed past him, bustling down the hallway to collect her things. "They've got a mass casualty incident, they need every hand they can get right now," she heard herself replying, although her mind was elsewhere. "Something about a helicopter in the ambulance bay."

"Of course," Malucci grumbled sarcastically to himself. "Where else?"

"I'll be back in time for Thanksgiving pizza."

"No, you won't. You'll be sucked into the ER vortex."

All she could do was glare at him as she threw on her coat and left.

In fact, it was more than easy to daydream about him as she took the El into work. Was he thinking about her? Was he saving a child with HIV from a lung infection? Was he sweating in the hot African sun, wondering when the next transport of supplies would come? Was he dead? Did he hate her? Was he loving someone else?

It was easy to think about these things, because she faced them every night. It was harder when the guilt set in. The anguish, the inappropriate pain she had no right to feel. She knew she didn't. That didn't make her feel any better about it.

There were always regrets. Just like how history was unchangeable.

Forgetting was the only way to manage. Mass casualty incidents, like the one she was faced with as soon as she stepped foot on County property, were particularly helpful. She was on her feet from the word go, working with Neela, a med student, on triaging victims. As long as she was in the moment, she didn't have to think about the things she had been for the past six months.

Like the reasons why.

"Is it over?" Neela asked her breathlessly when all was said and done.

Gracie snapped off a pair of latex gloves and glanced around. Firefighters were running around the ambulance bay, working on the remains of the helicopter. Romano was nowhere to be found. Everyone linked to the incident had been triaged, but that left multiple criticals and a neverending list of minors to be dispo'd. "It never is," Gracie replied absently, tossing the gloves into a nearby trash can, just as two men from transport carried a body bag past.

"Why do they call you Africa?"

"What?" She turned her head, almost having not heard the question. Neela repeated herself, watching Gracie with an innocent expectance.

"I mean, I know you have an accent, but—"

"That's all you need to know," Gracie interrupted dismissively.

"Oh... alright."

Gracie excused herself, walking briskly past admit, storming through a nondescript door, the action of which creating a rather loud smacking sound as her hands slapped against the wood. Neela blinked and looked at Frank.

"Did I say something wrong?"

----