In The Still of The Night shift (part II):
'He Who Asks, Gets'

Rating: PG. It's good clean and wholesome.
Archive: Go for it.
Disclaimer: Look Warner et al, I'm pretty sure you guys know you own the rights to the characters and the show, but if you want it in blood-no, I do not own or am any way affiliated with ER or it's cast/show/characters/crew, and anyway, suing people is real mean;)
Author's notes: This is beginning to look like an alternate reality story, set some time around the end of series 5 and the beginning of series 6. It' follows on from 'In the Still of the Night Shift,' but I've decided to liven up their pot-pouri of a day. Aren't I kind?

Oh and I'd like to thank my one and only beta, Samantha Carter, for putting up with all my coffee induced ramblings, and giving me gentle nudges in the right directions. She's also a fellow fanfic writer, and has written some pretty neat stuff, so if you've got time, GO READ!

Please (!!!) send any comments, abuse etcetera to angelpixiedust@bolt.com. Even if it's just to tell me how great you think Carter looks in a scrub shirt...

---------------------------

Dave threw in another one of his killer, Colgate smiles, as he stepped outside of the exam room. And then, with just a mild display of ego, he strutted down the hallway to wipe the girls names off the board.

He could be really good when he wanted to be.

The nursing staff was busy ordering triages, re-ordering charts and picking straws on who would get the five year olds who were puking up projectile candy everywhere in four.

"I love Halloween," he muttered to himself as he made a dive for another chart.

Carol looked up at him, slightly bemused at this statement of which she disagreed wholeheartedly. "Sure you do Malucci. Scrubs on too tight again, huh?"

Dave grinned back at her as his hands browsed through the list of possible patients. "No, actually I've just made some very hot plans for tonight."

Carol looked back at him dryly, "Right. So what did she come in for?"

The self-satisfied grin refused to wane. "Actually it's a party. In one of those high-rise suites by the river."

Carol raised an eyebrow impressed. "Oh really." She paused, looking at him expectantly. "And...?"

He eyed her again, content with the chart in his hands. "And...? And what?"

"And she wants to know if we can tag along." Malik cut in with a smile as he dropped several admin forms in front of Randy.

Dave thought about it momentarily. Wasn't this supposed to be his *escape* from the toils of everyday life? He eyes fell on Carol, who was still looking up at him, a glimmer of hope in her tired eyes. Then back at Malik, who was at that point in his shift where baby puke and bloodstains were worn as a badge of honour, a testament to his semi-conscious state, and then Dave shrugged. "Sure, why not? Wouldn't hurt to spread some of my good luck around."

Carol and Chunni beamed at this, and Malik nudged him playfully. "Dave you are the man."

He began walking out of the admin area, in search of the '6 yr female, malnutrition' in his hands. "Yeah, I know." He muttered to himself with an impish grin, and then quickly resumed with his strutting over to the exam room (with just a mild display of ego).

-----------------------------

That last sentence seemed to echo in Lucy's head. She sat up with a jerk; this was followed by a sharp sensation to the side of her head. Seconds later another one followed. She attempted to open her eyes, removing her hands from clamping her ears shut. She closed her mouth when she realised that it hadn't been an echo; she was still screaming. This was followed by a silence, and then another thud. "Oww!" She whimpered petting the dull object away from her whilst simultaneously rubbing her head with her left hand. Whose bright idea had it been to leave a light bulb there? She found a mental picture of Dave reeling off a list of reasons to Kerry as to why reading lamps should be instated. Reason one: the Victoria's secret catalogue is a lot more entertaining with good lighting.

"Whoa, watch it." A male voice said breaking into her adjustment into consciousness. Her surroundings suddenly seemed to clarify themselves. Kinda. Two faces above hers kept merging and then separating. Like a tequila nightmare.

"What? Where...?" She made a more successful attempt at opening her eyes, shielding them from the glare from that badly placed light bulb. Two faces loomed over her. One to her left, another to her right. "What...?" she repeated feeling even more dazed and confused than ever. "Who...?"

"Shhhh...It's OK Lucy, you're in an exam room," the male voice re-assured, and someone to the right of her placed a hand around her shoulder, rubbing at it soothingly. "You just burnt out. Just need some rest."

Oh, right Carter, she thought with a smile. Who else would tell her to watch out for something after it had already hit her three times? "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up, Lucy?" He asked peering intently at her.

"I've got one for you." She muttered at him sarcastically. He repeated the question. Lucy sighed. She squinted, six. No wait, people don't have six fingers. She shook her head, hoping that the picture would straighten. "Three, Carter. You're showing me three fingers."

He nodded with a smile, satisfied that her brain, for some reason or the other, hadn't turned to mush. Lucy noted that the other figure was Abby. Abby Lockhart right? Abby handed her a drink of water, and Lucy drank it out of having nothing better to do or say. She remembered her dream. *Nightmare*. "How long...? How long was I out of it for?"

Carter smiled. He was enjoying this, she realised. "About ten minutes. Had us a little worried there for a second. The other med students think you're faking to get time off."

Lucy nodded numbly. Abby approached her with a stethoscope, and Lucy squinted. What was Abby doing with her hair up in two very distinctive bun-shapes on either side of her head? Her head began to hurt again. "Princess Leia?" she muttered finally. She checked the exam room quickly with her eyes. No clowns or dancing penguins, so she wasn't dreaming. But then why was Abby looking like she'd just made contact with Earth?

Abby smiled, swinging her stethoscope from around her neck, and placing them over her ears with a refined knack. "I had short notice and short supplies. Completely forgot about Halloween until this morning actually."

Abby placed the stethoscope over Lucy's chest. "Halloween? Since when was it Halloween?"

Carter frowned, his fatherly unease returning. "Lucy, can you tell me what day of the week it is? Whose the President?"

Lucy smiled for a second, before rubbing her head and feigning deep thought, the unease in Carter's eyes returning as she had intended. She smiled. "I know who the President is. Bill Clinton and it's a Tuesday. I guess these last few weeks, I've had a lot more to worry about than what day of the month it is," she paused, looking over at Carter pointedly. "What with all my night shifts and all."

Carter's fears appeared to once again be assuaged that Lucy was 'all-there' and so he smiled, returning his hand to rubbing soothingly at her back. Lucy watched him briefly before returning her focus towards Abby. She was prodding her with various eye and ear torches. Being on the other side of the bed was no picnic she thought to herself. Bored with playing patient she distracted herself by pondering the how's and why's of Abby's Leia do. It seemed to defy all rational physical laws. And probably a dozen or so irrational ones.

Abby's hair, reminded her to give Carter a closer inspection. He looked just like Carter did every morning... Evening. Whatever. "So, what are you supposed to be Carter?"

Carter grinned looking a little miffed, "What is this? So far nobody's been able to tell." He rolled up his sleeves, revealing little puncture wounds. "I'm a drug addict." He said this as though it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe.

Lucy nodded blankly, "Sure you are."

Abby looked into Lucy's eyes, still fiddling around with the stethoscope. "Let me replace you."

Lucy did a double take. "What?!"

Abby smiled, "I said, let me trace you-your heart, I need to trace your heart."

Lucy nodded quietly, giving the new girl a suspicious look when she wasn't looking.

------------------

Mark played with the edge of one of the glossy prints. Rachel's seventh birthday. The smiling dolled up faces of kids smiled back at him, all memories of OD-ing on cheap chocolate cake forgotten and buried by even more cheap chocolate cake.

Another picture. Susan and him dancing... unaware of the camera laden Doug two feet away. When had that been, Halloween two years ago? He blinked letting his mind do the math. No. Susan left three and a half years ago. He sighed, finding yet another nostalgic, depressing photo to sigh and mope over.

"Hey Mark, you not off yet?"

"Hmmm," Mark replied, tilting his chair in the direction of the lounge doorway. "Um, no Carol, you?"

"Uh-huh, but I'm thinking of waiting around to go to this party that Dave's been talking about. Are you going?" Carol asked, whilst simultaneously removing her scrub shirt and packing her bags.

Mark didn't look up from his daze of nostalgia. "That's good. Yeah, great Carol."

Carol hesitated from her task, slowly walking over to him with a bemused smile. "Mark?" She asked, peering over his shoulder. "You feeling OK?"

Mark sighed, the hand on his shoulder transporting him back into reality. His gaze drifted from the mess of Kodak moments on the table. "Yeah, I'm great Carol. I'm always great."

Carol eyed the scattered photographs, attempting to nail down what it was exactly that he was feeling so 'great' about. "Liar. What are you doing?"

Mark scanned the stream of photos depicting 'moments' in his life. None were more recent than three years. "Oh, nothing much. Just flicking through some-" his eyes were suddenly captured by one.

He picked it up, a distant smile tracing his lips. It had been the mid-seventies. Some kind of college student rally. Banners, posters, and spaced out people with long hair and dodgy trousers filled the frame.

When he'd first met Jen.

When everything had been what everything should have been.

"Mark? What..." Carol said staring at the picture in his hand with a friendly grin.

"One of those student, protest-demo things. Y'know 'love not war' and all that jazz." He continued to eye the picture in his hand; a pained expression beginning to weave it's way across his face.

Carol smiled kindly, gently rubbing at his shoulder. "Mark, maybe you should take a break for a few minutes. Y'know make peace with some caffeine."

Mark nodded gently, refusing to let his eyes wander from the image, "I guess."

They shared a comfortable silence, as Carol waited for Mark to stir from his dazed and confused state. When, "Boo!"

They both turned to find the new kid in town, Abby Lockhart (slash Princess Leia) peering over their shoulders. She was smiling in the tired, yet-still-happy manner that most med students adopted on their first few months on round. "What are we looking at?" She asked, quietly scanning across the stacks of prints strewn across the coffee table.

This elicited yet another sigh from Mark. "Nothing, much. Just some old photos."

Abby nodded, scanning from the ones on the desk to the one in his hand. "What's that one of?"

"That would be the first time I met my wife. Uh, I mean my ex-wife." He paused, attempting to detach himself from the memories he was holding. "Guess which ones me?"

Abby smiled, instantly tracing him with her index finger. "Didn't you ever have hair?"

Mark and Carol smirked, and he dropped the picture back down onto the desk. "So, um, what did you want Abby?"

Abby smiled politely, "Auto versus three 'trick or treater's,' ETA's four minutes."

Abby paused at the doorway, turning to wait for Mark. Carol was already on the sofa, remote control in hand, attempting to find some form of late night entertainment that didn't want to bust the cellulite on her thighs.

Mark threw a final glance at the photos before stretching and getting up. Abby smiled, as she held the door open for him. "So, let me guess," she said inspecting him before he walked past her and out into the Emergency department. "Einstein, right?"

Mark shook his head, "Nope. Frankenstein."

Abby frowned, as she attempted to match his steady pace. "Frankenstein didn't have a dodgy grey toupee last time I checked."

Mark smiled, "Frankenstein was the scientist. You're thinking of his human collage."

Abby nodded. "Oh, yeah right. Silly me."

She hesitated outside the doorway to trauma one, stopping Mark from entering with a tentative hand. One of the nurses handed him several charts as she entered. "So have you given it any more thought?"

Mark shrugged, his fingers expertly landing signatures on the required spaces on the required forms. "I don't know Abby, we like to keep our students on solid ground for the first year."

Abby gave Mark a pleading look, as yet another nurse stopped past them to dish out more administration. "It's only a helicopter ride-along, no heroic measures, I promise."

Mark was still frowning, "Well..."

She persisted. "I will obey all orders. Word for word. Syllable for syllable."

"Yeah, but..."

"And I *won't* get sick in the chopper." She could see him cracking under her pressure.

It wasn't so much that she wanted to fly in a chopper, but more use it as an escape. She just desperately needed a break from the monotonous scene that greeted her daily. From the same doctors, the same nurses, and all the same goddamn textbooks that they could hand out. She needed freedom, and she needed it before she exploded. Abby shaped neurons lying scattered across an exam room.

He exhaled, with a light smile on his face, "I'll see what I can do Abby." He could see her face light up instantly. "But don't hold your breath."

Abby grinned, satisfied, as she held the trauma door open for him, "After you Dr Frankenstein."

He smiled, "Why thank you Dr Leia."

They entered, received a pair of latex gloves and a gown each from the nurses, and awaited the adrenaline rush that would soon arrive.

-----------

"Not soon enough," Luka replied under his breath, the chart in his hand quickly finding it's way into the responsibilities of one of the nurses.

"That's a pity," Miss Frost cooed, as Luka inched a few steps closer towards the door. "I do a real mean breakfast."

Luka smiled kindly, "Well, like they say no rest for the wicked Miss Frost. Maybe some other time."

The lady nodded enthusiastically, thanking him again for helping her, and the definite improvement with her...well her, you know.

Luka sighed as he closed the exam door behind him. He made a left to the lounge, ducking as he heard a call for assistance.

The room was bathed in a flickering light, and the soft hum of bad violin music, masked by hushed whispering. He turned to see Carol, half asleep on the couch, a Halloween special playing in the background.

"Carol? Aren't you supposed to be off?" He muttered softly, reaching for the jug of hot coffee.

"Mmmm, Dave's taking us all..." she muttered, fading out into something incomprehensible.

Luka smiled, believing her to be in some dream state.

He let the warmth of the cup in his hands spread to his fingertips before he gently blew on it, glancing up at the clock on the far end of the wall. Three am. That was what? An hour left? Fifty-nine minutes? Maybe even fifty-four minutes if Weaver was feeling extra especially human. An hour and fifteen minutes if she wasn't.

He threw a fleeting look at the still form of the ER charge nurse, Carol Hathaway. Rumours about her and her ex-beau were legendary in the ER. On. Off. On. Off. On *and* off. And then he'd just left her one-day. Just like that.

He tried to remember the guy's name. Daniel? Dan? Dug? He shrugged taking a tentative sip from the cup in his hand. Whatever it was, someone was sure missing out he thought, almost aloud.

"Hey, Dr Kovac," A loud carefree voice rang out over his thoughts. Luka looked up to find Dave walking in, and he motioned for him to be quiet, pointing in Carol's general direction. Dave nodded, lowering his voice, "Please tell me there's some coffee in there."

Luka smiled, handing him his cup and pouring himself another one. "So, Dr Kovac," Dave said conversationally, eyeing the new European guy, "Doing anything after work?"

Luka shook his head, thinking about it quickly, "Sleep, I guess, why?"

"So nothing then?" Dave replied, deductively. Luka gave another shake of the head. "Feel like a good Halloween bash to send you to sleep?"

"A what?"

"Exclusive party, pretty much everybody's coming. It'd be a good place to meet some of those American girls I've been telling you about, y'know find out why they call it the 'American Dream'" he said with a wink.

Luka glanced over at Carol quickly, ignoring Dave's last comment. "So, who's going?"

Chunni chose that moment to poke her head around the door. They both turned to face her automatically. "Hey, Luka, Mark's looking for you. Said it's important."

"Like I said, *everybody's* going," Luka heard him call out as he walked back into the beckoning emergency department.

He mulled over the prospect of a party as he walked over to the admin desk. "Hey Randy-"

"Trauma room one." She said, not even looking up from the pages of her Cosmopolitan magazine: 'How to make yourself a better lover, friend, mother, daughter, sister, car owner, worker, and co-worker in three easy steps'.

"But how did-" he tried to ask.

This time she did leave her page. "-I know? You just had that look on your face."

He was about to question this further, but decided that there were some things best left alone.

He painted an image of 'Dave's party' in his head as he watched an incoming 911 break through the double doors; greasy food, watered down alcohol, loud music, in a room full of strange people; sounded like the perfect thing to round off an awful day -might as well hang out in Doc McGoos. But then he reflected on the opportunity to be around healthy people for a few hours.

And the possibility of talking to Carol.

Blinking away an image of his damp, achingly empty, one bedroom, no hot water apartment, he stalked through the busy halls in search of Mark.

Dave had found himself a willing victim.

-------------------------------------

Shall I continue...or consider literal suicide?