Part 1 was obviously an episode tag for 'April Showers'.
Forgive my medical jargons. I'm not used to writing ER fanfic just yet. And yes, this will be a series. ;)
Part 2: Hangover ('Sailing Away')
***
'An unfulfilled vocation drains the color from a man's entire existence.'
--Honoré de Balzac
***
John Carter, M.D., the self-proclaimed dumbest person alive, was having hell of a hangover.
He fumbled on the bed, attempted to stand up, and tripped over a beer bottle he'd left on the floor last night. Several empty cans and bottles were strewn over his bedroom, and he had to maneuver through them as if he was walking on a minefield. There had to be a reason he'd emptied the two six-packs in one night by himself, but his memory was coming and going in his head, whirling around like a windmill, and he couldn't remember a thing.
When he finally reached the bathroom, he threw up probably everything he had had last week. He wasn't even sure if he could survive through a shower in his groggy state, but he needed to shower in order to make himself at least presentable at work. His shift started at...oh god. He was already late, wasn't he? Crap.
After hurriedly taking a shower and freshening up a bit, he looked much better, and felt much more alive. He would live through this, he reassured himself as he watched himself in the mirror. He would live through the day.
...Then why was he feeling like he wanted to punch the face reflected in the mirror?
When he finally sneaked into the ER after breaking every speed limit that there was, he found that Kerry wasn't there to bark at him. He quickly said hello to Randi and Chuni, grabbed his charts, and made a run for his round. He kept his fingers crossed. So far, his luck was sticking around.
"Carter," a voice called out from behind him.
Darn. What did he just think about his luck? When he turned around, he was faced with Luka in his immaculate white coat and a little tired expression.
"Doctor Kovac," he said, wondering if he should apologize for being late. He should, because Luka was *technically* the attending chief, and because he was certain that the Croatian doctor didn't think that highly of him already. But Carter's pride--pride? What pride? Ego, more like it--didn't allow him to apologize for anything in front of Luka.
To his surprise, Luka said, "I just wanted to thank you."
If that didn't take him off-guard, nothing ever could. They really weren't on friendly terms. "Uhhh, for what?"
"For helping out Abby in Oklahoma." He did look genuinely thankful, his usual uptight attitude toward him nowhere to be seen. "I never got a chance to properly thank you last night, with Maggie all...Well, I just wanted to let you know that I do appreciate your help, as does Abby."
See, the bad thing about having a slightly grudge against a man like Doctor Kovac was that there was no way to hold up that grudge unless you were extremely determined about it. Luka was basically a polite man, very passionate about his work, and had survived through a war and losing his whole family, which made it incredibly hard for the others to tell him to can it. Carter's own past addiction problems would look like a joke to Luka.
However, a little corner of his mind was still annoyed by Luka's sincere thank-you. Why did he have to thank him in Abby's place? ...Oh yeah. They were going out together. Right.
Which made him all so more 'extremely' determined to hold that grudge.
"Of course. You're welcome," Carter said, not really meaning it. He then noticed Luka's outfit, which was the one he wore yesterday, and the big dark circles under around his eyes. "You stayed here all night?" he asked, with a bit of incredulity.
"Ah," Luka looked down at his wrinkled shirt, "Well, Abby wanted to stay with Maggie, and I didn't want to leave her alone."
Right. Right. Right. Going out together. Yes.
They just looked at each other standing in the middle of the corridor in discomfort, until a petite brunette they both knew so well appeared from the examination room and came to their side.
"Luka!" Abby called out, obviously glad to see him, "I've been looking for you...hey, Carter."
"Hi," Carter said, in all honesty secretly wishing Luka off somewhere.
Abby gave him a slight smile, and he couldn't help smiling back at her. It was getting increasingly hard to control his expressions around her. Dammit.
"You were looking for me?" Luka asked, his face masked with concern, "Is anything wrong with--"
"Oh no. Mom's fine now." Carter could see that she was trying hard to mask her shadowed expression for Luka. "I just wanted to know if you want to have a late breakfast, that's all. You haven't had anything for a while."
Breakfast together, Carter thought with a slight pang of jealousy, could be one more reason to hold the grudge against Doctor Kovac.
"I'd like to, but--" Luka checked his watch, "--I'm already late for my shift. How about a lunch later?"
"Sure," Abby grinned back at him, "I'll see you then?"
"Yes." Luka then turned to Carter and nodded. "I better go now. Abby, I'll drop by later." He gave his girlfriend a hint of an affectionate smile, then left them standing in the corridor.
Carter shuffled his foot. "So."
"So," she repeated carefully, her eyes seemingly searching something in his face.
"So, how are you holding up? Is Maggie doing okay?" he asked the obvious questions, unable to think of anything else.
"Pretty well, considering everything. I, well, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for us," her voice was filled with sincere gratitude.
He shrugged good-naturedly. "I wanted to help."
It was the truth. He just wanted to be there for her. Of course, the real truth was that he wanted to help her more *when* Luka wasn't around, but he wasn't ready to admit that to anyone, not even to himself.
Okay, what the heck was he doing?
He wasn't ready to address the issue just yet, but this was getting ridiculous. What did he want from her, exactly? She was easy to be with, had a very affectionate heart, but how was she different from any other woman he'd known? Why did he always feel the need to help her out? And god, since when did he begin to have 'crushes' on brunettes? Like Deb said...oh, crap.
Deb, she was the reason for his hangover. Now he remembered. He hadn't been ready to face her again--hence begun the drinking rampage. It'd been a week since he had made a terrible mistake, acting in a way that could have totally ruined the friendship they shared. The impulsive kiss was bad enough, but to actually suggest her to come over to his house? The words 'rude' and 'insulting' didn't even begin to cover his behavior.
The thought that he might've ruined the friendship once and for all had distraught him, but he'd been putting off talking to her, attempting to avoid her somehow. Going to Oklahoma had given him a proper excuse for distancing himself from seeing her again, but what now?
"Carter?" Abby's soft voice broke him out of his reverie.
What now, indeed.
"Yeah," he said apologetically, and tapped on his charts, "I better go too. See you around?"
She looked slightly puzzled at his abruptness, but didn't pursue it. "Yeah, see you."
He watched as she disappeared into the exam room, quickly immersing herself into the nursing duty. He stared for a moment before he moved on. The question still echoed in his mind--what the heck was he doing, really?
He finished off his round quickly, and went in search for Deb. It was now or never. He couldn't afford to lose the friendship that meant so much to him. He needed to do this.
Determined, he leaned over the front desk and asked, "Randi, did you see De...Doctor Chen around?"
"She's up there with Doctor Corday," Randi answered, not even looking up at him. He felt a headache coming on by just watching her working on the post-it's she kept for everyone. Personally he'd never choose to work at County as a clerk for anything. "They're hovering over Ella again. They've been at it for hours already," she informed him.
"Ah." The hottest topic in the ER right now --he found all about it after spending three minutes at the reception station-- was Ella Greene, the newest addition to the Greene family. Apparently, she was an angel.
And Deb was seeing her now. The worry instantly clouded his mind. Seeing any child at this stage would only depress her mood, he was certain. How would she feel, seeing a happy mother and her baby together with no reservations? It hadn't been more than a few months since she'd let go of her own.
Maybe he should rethink and postpone his apology to her...?
God, John Carter, he scolded himself, you're a coward.
When he was filling out one of the files, debating inside whether he should continue his searchf for Deb, Mark Greene materialized beside him, with his 'I'm a busy doctor' mode still intact even after marrying a beautiful fellow doctor *and* becoming a father.
"You look like crap," Mark told him, quickly scribbling on the board.
"Funny. Everyone's telling me that lately."
"Then it must be true." Mark glanced at him with an amused look.
Carter shook his head slightly at the older doctor, grinning. "Well, congrats, Doctor Greene. Heard she's beautiful."
"She is," Mark's eyes instantly glittered with an unconcealed joy, "She absolutely is."
He was glad to see his friend happy. Mark was one of the best men he'd known, and with what he'd gone through lately, he really deserved some downtime. Smiling, Carter picked up another file and whirled around.
...Only to see Deb heading toward him, her head buried in a case file, not noticing he was directly in her way.
To call out, or not to call out, that was a question, wasn't it?
Against his better judgment, he said, "Deb?"
He carefully watched for her reaction. Her head snapped up in surprise, and her lovely dark eyes met his. "John," she said, chewing her lower lip, "You're back."
"Ah...yes." He wasn't sure where he should rest his eyes. Certainly, he didn't feel like looking into hers--he was afraid what he'd find there.
"Good." Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the file she carried. "That's good."
There was an awkward pause between them, and it almost drove him nuts. Deb was one person at County he didn't have to feel awkward about, and now this. He did this.
What did he expect? He'd acted like an ass in every sense of the word.
"Uh," he hesitantly suggested, "Do you want to grab a...coffee or something?"
She nodded in all cordiality, but with nothing else in her expression. "All right."
They walked into the empty locker room with hot coffee in Styrofoam cups. All the while, she didn't say anything at all, only looking down at her coffee as if it was suddenly a very fascinating medical subject. He felt the silence was beginning to suffocate him.
"I really am sorry about the other night," he finally blurted out.
She was obviously putting in a lot of effort to smile at him. "It's all right. You told me that already, and I understand."
It didn't convince him. "It's my fault that things are not right between us. I...really don't want to lose your friendship, Deb."
"It was a mistake," she spoke softly. It was clear that she didn't want him to beat himself over this. "We all make mistakes. And there's nothing wrong between us."
He was a little surprised to be forgiven so quickly. "There isn't?"
"No." This time, she gave him her genuine, bright smile that he recognized, not a forced, awkward one. "We're just fine. And hey, what do you know?" her face broke into a playful grin, "Now I have a very good blackmail material on you about your *crush*."
He groaned automatically. "Ah, Deb..."
"Should've thought about it when you made a therapist out of me," her playful grin was still there, her eyes twinkling, "There's always a penalty following. Or a therapy bill, if you will."
He was the one who made a mistake, yet, Deb was trying so hard to make him feel better with her light jokes. He sensed the familiar feeling of guilt suppressing his chest.
He really didn't deserve a friend like this.
"Alright, then," he sighed dramatically, in sync with her playfulness, "What would this penalty entail?"
"Hmm..." she pretended to ponder the point, "How about a free meal at McDonald? And that includes 20 pieces of chicken nuggets to go."
He arched his eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "There is something to be said about medical doctors enjoying gross junk food, don't you think?"
"I indulge from time to time, and you cannot possibly tell me you don't," she answered sassily, giving him a mock-glare.
He realized he was smiling. "Cannot possibly tell you that. Of course you're right."
The mischievous look on her face gradually changed into a sober one. She asked, hesitant, "Are things...looking up yet? You went all the way to Oklahoma with Abby."
He appreciated her careful, unobtrusive way to ask questions, the one that made sure he wouldn't feel pressured to answer anything he didn't want to. "It could be, I don't know," he admitted, "But well, Rena dumped me. So there."
She chuckled. "Well, it's about time."
"Hey," he protested, "Have some sympathy. I'm heartbroken."
"Yes John, and you're doing a *terrible* job acting heartbroken."
Deb always presented herself in a serious and goal-oriented manner with everyone, save for him and or maybe Malucci. With him, she was always playful and teasing, probably because their longtime friendship. With Malucci, well, no one could possibly be all-time serious with him.
He'd missed her gentle and teasing ways, he realized. Now she was fully back in the playful mode, and he felt the pressing weight lifting from his chest.
When they were fully into discussing the medical point of view on the term 'heart-broken', the door abruptly opened, and Kerry peeked through the door.
"Carter, Chen! What the hell are you doing here?" she shouted immediately, "Two MGW victims, and more. Now!"
They exchanged an amused look, and rushed out from the room together.
The familiar scene of paramedics wheeling the gurneys filled the ER, accompanied by loud shouts and incomprehensible noises. Carter ran to the nearest one, and saw Deb doing the same.
One of the paramedics began to fill him on the condition right away, while they pushed the gurney to the next empty exam room, "Multiple stab wounds. We almost lost her on the way. Think the lung is punctured."
Stab wounds? He made a fatal mistake of looking up to the face of the bleeding patient. He felt a shiver going down his spine, and momentarily froze. The victim's pale face reminded him of a face he'd seen so many times in his nightmares. The blood was gushing through the slashed flesh, dripping on the floor, covering...
You can handle this, he whispered to himself through his labored breaths, you can do this. You've done this many times after the incident. You *can* do this.
Somehow, Deb was already at his side. "I'll get this one," she declared to everyone, "John, Doctor Weaver wants you in Trauma 1." Before he said anything, she began to work on the patient in front of them. "Go," she nudged him, and whispered quietly, "You go take care of the MGW victim. I'll take this."
Thoughtful and considerate. That was Deb. He was more than grateful for her timely interruption, but he couldn't even mumble his thanks to her. He wiped off the cold sweat on his face, and forced his immobile legs to move on.
He thought he'd forgotten. He thought he was moving on.
But demons never disappeared overnight. The nightmares, they'd always be around, poking into his life with their ugly heads whenever he thought he had forgotten.
They never disappeared.
The rest of the day passed without any more major incidents. He worked hard on his patients, and thought of anything else. He couldn't afford to think of anything else.
At the end of the day, rather than going home, he sat in the waiting lounge, sipping coke in an almost idle position. From here, he could observe people coming and going. The first couple to come out was Peter and Cleo. They seemed to be arguing about something, as always, but whatever it was they were arguing about, it ended up with Doctor Benton putting his arm around her shoulder.
Mark and Doctor Corday were heading out together. Doctor Corday was up already? The couple was an embodiment of happiness itself, and he was still envious.
And the last but the least, Abby and Luka walked out, their fingers entwined together. When her eyes found him sitting by himself, the look on her face instantly changed into something he couldn't name. What was it? Guilt? Regret? What?
Something was between him and Abby, and after the trip to Oklahoma, she was very aware of it too. They shared addiction problems, and many others, being the two of a kind. He also knew that if he kept this up --being there for her all the time, offering his help, opening up his mind in the natural and comfortable way that Luka, otherwise a thoughtful boyfriend, couldn't-- there might come a point when Abby would need him more than Luka.
Did he want that? Was that what he really wanted?
And there was Deb.
His friend came out the locker room in the black dress he'd often seen her wear. Before he stood up to call out for her, Malucci, who was passing by, did a double-take on her dress, and immediately began hitting on her. There was nothing unusual about this picture, and Carter expected their conversation to last for mere seconds, with Deb putting him down if not with a whimper then with a bang.
However, the strangest thing happened; Deb actually laughed at what Dave said.
It wasn't a humorless laugh, or the usual 'Oh, you're absurd, Malucci!' laugh. It was an actual heart-feeling laugh, one that he thought she had only spared it openly for...
...him?
What was this? Deb wasn't even supposed to laugh and have a good time with Dave? Now, that was just low and pathetic, even for him.
Deb was now heading directly to the exit, her right hand looking for the keys in her purse, when she saw him. She turned to him, mildly surprised, "I thought you went home already." She then gave him a stern look. "You're not planning to smoke in the parking lot again, are you?"
"Not smoke, just coke," he grinned, and gestured the can he was holding, "You *are* mother hen-ish, you know that?"
"Only because you make me," she grinned back. "Go home, John. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."
He opened his mouth, again wanting to ask her to stay. Maybe she wanted to stick around a little bit more. Maybe she wanted to get something to drink, and heck, maybe even go to McDonald. Maybe she wanted to be something more to him than just a friend... So many maybe's.
But he couldn't. He couldn't do that to her.
He only said, "Goodnight, Deb."
She gave him an obligatory good-night smile, and left.
As he watched her walk away, his mind coined her question that he'd heard that night, 'What makes you so unhappy, John?'
Unhappy? Hardly. Everything was back to normal, which was what he'd wanted. He was still mooning over Abby, but now with some hope, and he was completely convinced that Deb didn't want to be anything for him except a good friend. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Keeping the friendship was all he'd wanted.
Wasn't it?
Why then, pray tell, did he have to kiss her that night?
'What makes you so unhappy, John?'
He didn't want to find the answers to these questions. And if he kept thinking about them, he just might.
Maybe he should go home, and take a long bath. Maybe he should just sleep it off. Maybe he could forget about everything for tonight. Maybe things would be better tomorrow. Maybe then the void inside him would be gone without the help of wine and beer. Maybe...or maybe not.
When he walked out of the ER, he headed straight to the nearest liquor store.
He was drinking tonight.
End Part 2
05/05/01
---
Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I need something to go on. ;)
Forgive my medical jargons. I'm not used to writing ER fanfic just yet. And yes, this will be a series. ;)
Part 2: Hangover ('Sailing Away')
***
'An unfulfilled vocation drains the color from a man's entire existence.'
--Honoré de Balzac
***
John Carter, M.D., the self-proclaimed dumbest person alive, was having hell of a hangover.
He fumbled on the bed, attempted to stand up, and tripped over a beer bottle he'd left on the floor last night. Several empty cans and bottles were strewn over his bedroom, and he had to maneuver through them as if he was walking on a minefield. There had to be a reason he'd emptied the two six-packs in one night by himself, but his memory was coming and going in his head, whirling around like a windmill, and he couldn't remember a thing.
When he finally reached the bathroom, he threw up probably everything he had had last week. He wasn't even sure if he could survive through a shower in his groggy state, but he needed to shower in order to make himself at least presentable at work. His shift started at...oh god. He was already late, wasn't he? Crap.
After hurriedly taking a shower and freshening up a bit, he looked much better, and felt much more alive. He would live through this, he reassured himself as he watched himself in the mirror. He would live through the day.
...Then why was he feeling like he wanted to punch the face reflected in the mirror?
When he finally sneaked into the ER after breaking every speed limit that there was, he found that Kerry wasn't there to bark at him. He quickly said hello to Randi and Chuni, grabbed his charts, and made a run for his round. He kept his fingers crossed. So far, his luck was sticking around.
"Carter," a voice called out from behind him.
Darn. What did he just think about his luck? When he turned around, he was faced with Luka in his immaculate white coat and a little tired expression.
"Doctor Kovac," he said, wondering if he should apologize for being late. He should, because Luka was *technically* the attending chief, and because he was certain that the Croatian doctor didn't think that highly of him already. But Carter's pride--pride? What pride? Ego, more like it--didn't allow him to apologize for anything in front of Luka.
To his surprise, Luka said, "I just wanted to thank you."
If that didn't take him off-guard, nothing ever could. They really weren't on friendly terms. "Uhhh, for what?"
"For helping out Abby in Oklahoma." He did look genuinely thankful, his usual uptight attitude toward him nowhere to be seen. "I never got a chance to properly thank you last night, with Maggie all...Well, I just wanted to let you know that I do appreciate your help, as does Abby."
See, the bad thing about having a slightly grudge against a man like Doctor Kovac was that there was no way to hold up that grudge unless you were extremely determined about it. Luka was basically a polite man, very passionate about his work, and had survived through a war and losing his whole family, which made it incredibly hard for the others to tell him to can it. Carter's own past addiction problems would look like a joke to Luka.
However, a little corner of his mind was still annoyed by Luka's sincere thank-you. Why did he have to thank him in Abby's place? ...Oh yeah. They were going out together. Right.
Which made him all so more 'extremely' determined to hold that grudge.
"Of course. You're welcome," Carter said, not really meaning it. He then noticed Luka's outfit, which was the one he wore yesterday, and the big dark circles under around his eyes. "You stayed here all night?" he asked, with a bit of incredulity.
"Ah," Luka looked down at his wrinkled shirt, "Well, Abby wanted to stay with Maggie, and I didn't want to leave her alone."
Right. Right. Right. Going out together. Yes.
They just looked at each other standing in the middle of the corridor in discomfort, until a petite brunette they both knew so well appeared from the examination room and came to their side.
"Luka!" Abby called out, obviously glad to see him, "I've been looking for you...hey, Carter."
"Hi," Carter said, in all honesty secretly wishing Luka off somewhere.
Abby gave him a slight smile, and he couldn't help smiling back at her. It was getting increasingly hard to control his expressions around her. Dammit.
"You were looking for me?" Luka asked, his face masked with concern, "Is anything wrong with--"
"Oh no. Mom's fine now." Carter could see that she was trying hard to mask her shadowed expression for Luka. "I just wanted to know if you want to have a late breakfast, that's all. You haven't had anything for a while."
Breakfast together, Carter thought with a slight pang of jealousy, could be one more reason to hold the grudge against Doctor Kovac.
"I'd like to, but--" Luka checked his watch, "--I'm already late for my shift. How about a lunch later?"
"Sure," Abby grinned back at him, "I'll see you then?"
"Yes." Luka then turned to Carter and nodded. "I better go now. Abby, I'll drop by later." He gave his girlfriend a hint of an affectionate smile, then left them standing in the corridor.
Carter shuffled his foot. "So."
"So," she repeated carefully, her eyes seemingly searching something in his face.
"So, how are you holding up? Is Maggie doing okay?" he asked the obvious questions, unable to think of anything else.
"Pretty well, considering everything. I, well, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for us," her voice was filled with sincere gratitude.
He shrugged good-naturedly. "I wanted to help."
It was the truth. He just wanted to be there for her. Of course, the real truth was that he wanted to help her more *when* Luka wasn't around, but he wasn't ready to admit that to anyone, not even to himself.
Okay, what the heck was he doing?
He wasn't ready to address the issue just yet, but this was getting ridiculous. What did he want from her, exactly? She was easy to be with, had a very affectionate heart, but how was she different from any other woman he'd known? Why did he always feel the need to help her out? And god, since when did he begin to have 'crushes' on brunettes? Like Deb said...oh, crap.
Deb, she was the reason for his hangover. Now he remembered. He hadn't been ready to face her again--hence begun the drinking rampage. It'd been a week since he had made a terrible mistake, acting in a way that could have totally ruined the friendship they shared. The impulsive kiss was bad enough, but to actually suggest her to come over to his house? The words 'rude' and 'insulting' didn't even begin to cover his behavior.
The thought that he might've ruined the friendship once and for all had distraught him, but he'd been putting off talking to her, attempting to avoid her somehow. Going to Oklahoma had given him a proper excuse for distancing himself from seeing her again, but what now?
"Carter?" Abby's soft voice broke him out of his reverie.
What now, indeed.
"Yeah," he said apologetically, and tapped on his charts, "I better go too. See you around?"
She looked slightly puzzled at his abruptness, but didn't pursue it. "Yeah, see you."
He watched as she disappeared into the exam room, quickly immersing herself into the nursing duty. He stared for a moment before he moved on. The question still echoed in his mind--what the heck was he doing, really?
He finished off his round quickly, and went in search for Deb. It was now or never. He couldn't afford to lose the friendship that meant so much to him. He needed to do this.
Determined, he leaned over the front desk and asked, "Randi, did you see De...Doctor Chen around?"
"She's up there with Doctor Corday," Randi answered, not even looking up at him. He felt a headache coming on by just watching her working on the post-it's she kept for everyone. Personally he'd never choose to work at County as a clerk for anything. "They're hovering over Ella again. They've been at it for hours already," she informed him.
"Ah." The hottest topic in the ER right now --he found all about it after spending three minutes at the reception station-- was Ella Greene, the newest addition to the Greene family. Apparently, she was an angel.
And Deb was seeing her now. The worry instantly clouded his mind. Seeing any child at this stage would only depress her mood, he was certain. How would she feel, seeing a happy mother and her baby together with no reservations? It hadn't been more than a few months since she'd let go of her own.
Maybe he should rethink and postpone his apology to her...?
God, John Carter, he scolded himself, you're a coward.
When he was filling out one of the files, debating inside whether he should continue his searchf for Deb, Mark Greene materialized beside him, with his 'I'm a busy doctor' mode still intact even after marrying a beautiful fellow doctor *and* becoming a father.
"You look like crap," Mark told him, quickly scribbling on the board.
"Funny. Everyone's telling me that lately."
"Then it must be true." Mark glanced at him with an amused look.
Carter shook his head slightly at the older doctor, grinning. "Well, congrats, Doctor Greene. Heard she's beautiful."
"She is," Mark's eyes instantly glittered with an unconcealed joy, "She absolutely is."
He was glad to see his friend happy. Mark was one of the best men he'd known, and with what he'd gone through lately, he really deserved some downtime. Smiling, Carter picked up another file and whirled around.
...Only to see Deb heading toward him, her head buried in a case file, not noticing he was directly in her way.
To call out, or not to call out, that was a question, wasn't it?
Against his better judgment, he said, "Deb?"
He carefully watched for her reaction. Her head snapped up in surprise, and her lovely dark eyes met his. "John," she said, chewing her lower lip, "You're back."
"Ah...yes." He wasn't sure where he should rest his eyes. Certainly, he didn't feel like looking into hers--he was afraid what he'd find there.
"Good." Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the file she carried. "That's good."
There was an awkward pause between them, and it almost drove him nuts. Deb was one person at County he didn't have to feel awkward about, and now this. He did this.
What did he expect? He'd acted like an ass in every sense of the word.
"Uh," he hesitantly suggested, "Do you want to grab a...coffee or something?"
She nodded in all cordiality, but with nothing else in her expression. "All right."
They walked into the empty locker room with hot coffee in Styrofoam cups. All the while, she didn't say anything at all, only looking down at her coffee as if it was suddenly a very fascinating medical subject. He felt the silence was beginning to suffocate him.
"I really am sorry about the other night," he finally blurted out.
She was obviously putting in a lot of effort to smile at him. "It's all right. You told me that already, and I understand."
It didn't convince him. "It's my fault that things are not right between us. I...really don't want to lose your friendship, Deb."
"It was a mistake," she spoke softly. It was clear that she didn't want him to beat himself over this. "We all make mistakes. And there's nothing wrong between us."
He was a little surprised to be forgiven so quickly. "There isn't?"
"No." This time, she gave him her genuine, bright smile that he recognized, not a forced, awkward one. "We're just fine. And hey, what do you know?" her face broke into a playful grin, "Now I have a very good blackmail material on you about your *crush*."
He groaned automatically. "Ah, Deb..."
"Should've thought about it when you made a therapist out of me," her playful grin was still there, her eyes twinkling, "There's always a penalty following. Or a therapy bill, if you will."
He was the one who made a mistake, yet, Deb was trying so hard to make him feel better with her light jokes. He sensed the familiar feeling of guilt suppressing his chest.
He really didn't deserve a friend like this.
"Alright, then," he sighed dramatically, in sync with her playfulness, "What would this penalty entail?"
"Hmm..." she pretended to ponder the point, "How about a free meal at McDonald? And that includes 20 pieces of chicken nuggets to go."
He arched his eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "There is something to be said about medical doctors enjoying gross junk food, don't you think?"
"I indulge from time to time, and you cannot possibly tell me you don't," she answered sassily, giving him a mock-glare.
He realized he was smiling. "Cannot possibly tell you that. Of course you're right."
The mischievous look on her face gradually changed into a sober one. She asked, hesitant, "Are things...looking up yet? You went all the way to Oklahoma with Abby."
He appreciated her careful, unobtrusive way to ask questions, the one that made sure he wouldn't feel pressured to answer anything he didn't want to. "It could be, I don't know," he admitted, "But well, Rena dumped me. So there."
She chuckled. "Well, it's about time."
"Hey," he protested, "Have some sympathy. I'm heartbroken."
"Yes John, and you're doing a *terrible* job acting heartbroken."
Deb always presented herself in a serious and goal-oriented manner with everyone, save for him and or maybe Malucci. With him, she was always playful and teasing, probably because their longtime friendship. With Malucci, well, no one could possibly be all-time serious with him.
He'd missed her gentle and teasing ways, he realized. Now she was fully back in the playful mode, and he felt the pressing weight lifting from his chest.
When they were fully into discussing the medical point of view on the term 'heart-broken', the door abruptly opened, and Kerry peeked through the door.
"Carter, Chen! What the hell are you doing here?" she shouted immediately, "Two MGW victims, and more. Now!"
They exchanged an amused look, and rushed out from the room together.
The familiar scene of paramedics wheeling the gurneys filled the ER, accompanied by loud shouts and incomprehensible noises. Carter ran to the nearest one, and saw Deb doing the same.
One of the paramedics began to fill him on the condition right away, while they pushed the gurney to the next empty exam room, "Multiple stab wounds. We almost lost her on the way. Think the lung is punctured."
Stab wounds? He made a fatal mistake of looking up to the face of the bleeding patient. He felt a shiver going down his spine, and momentarily froze. The victim's pale face reminded him of a face he'd seen so many times in his nightmares. The blood was gushing through the slashed flesh, dripping on the floor, covering...
You can handle this, he whispered to himself through his labored breaths, you can do this. You've done this many times after the incident. You *can* do this.
Somehow, Deb was already at his side. "I'll get this one," she declared to everyone, "John, Doctor Weaver wants you in Trauma 1." Before he said anything, she began to work on the patient in front of them. "Go," she nudged him, and whispered quietly, "You go take care of the MGW victim. I'll take this."
Thoughtful and considerate. That was Deb. He was more than grateful for her timely interruption, but he couldn't even mumble his thanks to her. He wiped off the cold sweat on his face, and forced his immobile legs to move on.
He thought he'd forgotten. He thought he was moving on.
But demons never disappeared overnight. The nightmares, they'd always be around, poking into his life with their ugly heads whenever he thought he had forgotten.
They never disappeared.
The rest of the day passed without any more major incidents. He worked hard on his patients, and thought of anything else. He couldn't afford to think of anything else.
At the end of the day, rather than going home, he sat in the waiting lounge, sipping coke in an almost idle position. From here, he could observe people coming and going. The first couple to come out was Peter and Cleo. They seemed to be arguing about something, as always, but whatever it was they were arguing about, it ended up with Doctor Benton putting his arm around her shoulder.
Mark and Doctor Corday were heading out together. Doctor Corday was up already? The couple was an embodiment of happiness itself, and he was still envious.
And the last but the least, Abby and Luka walked out, their fingers entwined together. When her eyes found him sitting by himself, the look on her face instantly changed into something he couldn't name. What was it? Guilt? Regret? What?
Something was between him and Abby, and after the trip to Oklahoma, she was very aware of it too. They shared addiction problems, and many others, being the two of a kind. He also knew that if he kept this up --being there for her all the time, offering his help, opening up his mind in the natural and comfortable way that Luka, otherwise a thoughtful boyfriend, couldn't-- there might come a point when Abby would need him more than Luka.
Did he want that? Was that what he really wanted?
And there was Deb.
His friend came out the locker room in the black dress he'd often seen her wear. Before he stood up to call out for her, Malucci, who was passing by, did a double-take on her dress, and immediately began hitting on her. There was nothing unusual about this picture, and Carter expected their conversation to last for mere seconds, with Deb putting him down if not with a whimper then with a bang.
However, the strangest thing happened; Deb actually laughed at what Dave said.
It wasn't a humorless laugh, or the usual 'Oh, you're absurd, Malucci!' laugh. It was an actual heart-feeling laugh, one that he thought she had only spared it openly for...
...him?
What was this? Deb wasn't even supposed to laugh and have a good time with Dave? Now, that was just low and pathetic, even for him.
Deb was now heading directly to the exit, her right hand looking for the keys in her purse, when she saw him. She turned to him, mildly surprised, "I thought you went home already." She then gave him a stern look. "You're not planning to smoke in the parking lot again, are you?"
"Not smoke, just coke," he grinned, and gestured the can he was holding, "You *are* mother hen-ish, you know that?"
"Only because you make me," she grinned back. "Go home, John. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."
He opened his mouth, again wanting to ask her to stay. Maybe she wanted to stick around a little bit more. Maybe she wanted to get something to drink, and heck, maybe even go to McDonald. Maybe she wanted to be something more to him than just a friend... So many maybe's.
But he couldn't. He couldn't do that to her.
He only said, "Goodnight, Deb."
She gave him an obligatory good-night smile, and left.
As he watched her walk away, his mind coined her question that he'd heard that night, 'What makes you so unhappy, John?'
Unhappy? Hardly. Everything was back to normal, which was what he'd wanted. He was still mooning over Abby, but now with some hope, and he was completely convinced that Deb didn't want to be anything for him except a good friend. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Keeping the friendship was all he'd wanted.
Wasn't it?
Why then, pray tell, did he have to kiss her that night?
'What makes you so unhappy, John?'
He didn't want to find the answers to these questions. And if he kept thinking about them, he just might.
Maybe he should go home, and take a long bath. Maybe he should just sleep it off. Maybe he could forget about everything for tonight. Maybe things would be better tomorrow. Maybe then the void inside him would be gone without the help of wine and beer. Maybe...or maybe not.
When he walked out of the ER, he headed straight to the nearest liquor store.
He was drinking tonight.
End Part 2
05/05/01
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Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I need something to go on. ;)