I feel the need to clarify that there will be no involvement of Kem in this story. Carry on.


TOUCH AND GO
December 2003

"Did you hear?"

Gracie scowled. Of course she had. She was tired of the question — it presumed ignorance, or incompetence, or something of the sort. That everyone knew her better than herself. She was tired of being known. "Yes," she answered sharply, overlooking her sedated, disheveled female patient, who still happened to be clothed in full-on raver gear that was stained with alcohol, mascara and blood. "And I really wish everyone would stop asking me that."

Malik gave her a pointed look as he hooked up another bag of hypertonic saline for their girl, who had been passed out since being sedated upon ER admission at three in the morning. She wore eyeliner and mascara all over her cheeks, little indentations on her arms and forehead, oozing abrasions that suggested a serious meeting with pavement. Gracie had already confirmed an MDMA toxicity, which explained the screaming agitation and why exactly it looked like her patient had been involved in a brawl in the first place. Her biggest concern now was waiting on CT to rule out head trauma, but it was nearly eight in the morning and she was supposed to have been off duty an hour ago.

"The man is physically in the building," Malik pointed out, his tone bordering heavily on nagging.

"Would you like to make any more obvious statements?"

"Other than maybe you should talk to him before the next shift you two work together ends up turning you into little miss bitch stomp here?"

"Bitch stomp?"

But the voice that queried those prior words was not Gracie's. In fact, it was far more capable of sending a shiver down her spine — enough to bring her to a hesitant pause with the realization that she wasn't dreaming. Oh, how she wished she was. Denial was only good for so long.

Malik grinned at the man standing behind her. "Carter, good to see ya, man!"

She couldn't turn around. No. Just couldn't. Where was her masochism? Why couldn't she power through this, say hello, cry about it later? Through the noise in her head, she briefly caught wind of Malik exchanging pleasantries, then saying very pointedly, "I'll let you two catch up."

And leaving.

Leaving her alone with him.

What shocked her the most was the fact that he didn't jump right to the point... didn't flat out demand answers, or drag her headfirst into the pit of sorrow she had begun to feel so comfortable in. No, instead, he chuckled uncertainly, awkwardly scratched the back of his head, then motioned to her unconscious patient and said, "So, what's her story?"

Gracie was so baffled, her response came out in a breath. "Status post-bitch stomping," she heard herself say, using the term she and Malik had cheerfully been using. "Came in screaming and carrying on, I had to sedate her."

"I still don't get it."

"Another girl stomped on her with the spiky end of her high heel, then beat her upside her head with it. Both of them were trippin' on MDMA — Luka got the other one."

Carter nodded sagely, and Gracie was so confused about this entire scenario that she found herself taking a step back and glancing him over. He had a beard, scraggly and overgrown. He knew how she hated them. But that wasn't the reason he looked different. No, this change was inward. He was world-weary and mature. Like he had finally seen too many horrible things in his lifetime.

"Why are you here?" The words escaped her lips breathlessly.

"Had a meeting to confirm I'm back on the schedule this week."

Gracie fiddled with the stethoscope looped around her neck. She stared down at her feet, and his gaze was hot on the hollow of her throat. She immediately knew why, and her acknowledgement of such was met with the burning flush of her cheeks. "So... you're back?" She heard herself say.

He pursed his lips. "Yeah. I have some things to settle with the estate."

"But you're back."

Silence.

"Yes."

Gracie wanted nothing more than to escape at this point. But the feeling was overwhelming as soon as he said certainly, "It's really good to see you."

She barely choked out a reply before turning on one heel and walking away.

She did not look back.

She would wonder later if he expected his return from Africa to be met with such fanfare. Part of her believed he did. The other hoped for the surprise.

Clocking out with overtime had never felt so relieving.

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