****
"I can't see how you can kick him out into the street like this, Cleo..." Peter protested, as his female co-worker began flinging Malucci's things into a box.
"I can and I will." Cleo snapped, glaring at the man who stood over her. "I can do as I damn well please, Peter.. After all.. What are you? My boyfriend? I don't think so.. I don't think you have a say in the matter. Why do you care so much about Malucci anyway?"
"Because.. He can't stay by himself. He can't live alone.. He has nowhere to go and he can't be re-admitted. Malucci doesn't have any damn insurance, remember?!" He grumbled in response, as he started to unpack Dave's things faster than Cleo could toss them in.
"Stop it Peter... Who says you can tell me what to do!? He's a pig.. He made a mess of my house! I told you and I mean it. He's GONE, and as far as I am concerned, you are celibate. No sex... None.. Go find that cat of Malucci's, because that's the only way you're ever getting ANY pussy around here.. Now GET OUT!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I can't stand this fruity stationery of Cleo's... I mean.. Where in the hell did she get it? They're yelling again... It's like being at home in New York.. Dad just getting all pissed off.. Sitting in his chair, occasionally jumping out of the La-Z-y Boy to scare the living shit out of everybody.. Ma always said his bark was worse than his bite, but I've got the scars to prove her wrong...
**
"FINE!!!! He'll move out.. I don't know where in the hell to, Cleo, but hey.. Your precious house is more important than a man's well-being.." Peter spat in disgust as he snatched up his cell phone.
"A man's well-being!?? Getting all high and mighty on me all of a sudden Dr.Benton?? I think you're just pouting because I've put a knot in your willy." She sneered, stomping out of the room.
"Hi... Ummm.. Mark? It's Peter Benton.. Remember Malucci... He was released last week?? Uhh.. Well.."
*~*~*~*~*~
Mark!? Dr.Greene? Oh Christ.. That's the last thing I need right now.. I mean for crying out loud.. Dr.Greene?! WHY HIM!? Awww man...
***
"Dr.Dave..." Mark smiled phonily at the man, and watched from his front steps of the apartment building as Peter struggled to extricate the enfeebled doctor from the cab and into his wheel chair.
"Thanks for the help, Greene.. It was much appreciated.." Peter grumbled sarcastically as he pushed Dave up the walk.
"Oh.. You're welcome.. When I heard Dave was in a little trouble finding a place to live.. Of course I was pleased to have you call on me." The ER attending's feigned sympathy oozing from every one of his creepy bald-guy pores.
"Stuff it Greene.." Dave growled angrily as he attempted to launch himself onto the senior staff member. "I'm going to hate this as much as you do.. More-so even.. So you can just can the bullshit."
"Don't think you can play your 'Poor Malucci' card with me, Dr.Dave.." Mark snapped in return. "I've had enough of your bull at work. I'm doing this as a favour to Dr.Corday actually.. This was NOT my idea of a good time. I'm doing this FOR you.. Accept it or not, your room is in here.."
Mark lead him into the apartment building, through the lobby and to the rows of elevators. Dave snorted. It was a little more posh than his own apartment, but not quite. He didn't know what Greene was being so cocky about, his apartment was just par above slum, there wasn't much to be proud of. "I guess I should thank you then.." The younger man muttered, arms crossed.
"Thank you, would be a start... I'll leave you to get settled in, I'll be in the kitchen finishing off my supper that had been so rudely interrupted.. If you'll excuse me." Mark brushed past the pale and breathless man who had seated himself on the twin bed and exited the room.
"Home sweet home.. Huh, Malucci?" Peter muttered sarcastically as he watched Greene stomp angrily to his kitchen.
"You're kidding me right? I mean.. You know it wasn't my fault.. I didn't know she didn't have a cat. How was I supposed to know!?" Dave sighed heavily and flopped backwards onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "If I'd just gone home.. If I'd just hadn't been flipping through the charts like that.. If I had-"
"Stop it... Don't do that.. The world is not built on 'what ifs'.. The world is not built on the past. You can't change the past Malucci.. Lucy's dead.. You're alive, and that's life.. If it had been another time.. Maybe another one of us would have been in that room with Lucy, but we all can't dwell on it like that.. I know that Weaver and Carter are beating themselves up as much as anyone else could, but Carter wasn't the one stabbed.. If he had been, he.." Peter trailed off, shaking his head.
"If he had been.. He wouldn't be in this mess.. He'd be at home in his cushy mansion with his servants and his damn 'Gamma'.." Dave finished bitterly.
"Yeah." Peter replied honestly. "He probably would, but he wasn't stabbed.. You were.. You survived all the shit.. Even though you don't realize it now, Malucci.. You're lucky."
"Lucky? How can you figure that?!" Dave whispered hoarsely, wrapping his arms around himself as he rolled carefully onto his side and into the fetal position. "How am I lucky?"
"You're not dead.. You're not locked up in a mental hospital, you haven't lost a daughter.. Everyone else was affected by this, Dave.. They've all lost something. You have life, and freedom. There's nothing more precious than that."
Dave stared at the surgeon, biting his lip and drawing doodles into the comforter with his finger. "What was it like?" He whispered softly, Peter walked further into the room, his head cocked to catch the soft hoarse words.
"There was a lot of blood.. Alot of it.. You crashed on the table in the trauma room.. We were short staffed.. I was bouncing back and forth between traumas.. We finally got you upstairs into the OR.. You crashed again on the table.. We got you stable, stitched you up.. Anspaugh was determined to save your damned kidney, but I tied it off.. I had to tie off the hematoma near your spinal cord too... You came out of it okay though.. You really would have been fucked then.. It was bad, Dave.. You know that.. I know Anspaugh told you this.. Weaver said she walked in afterwards, you were white as a goddamned sheet." Peter sighed, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. "So.. You okay now man?? I can go home now?"
"Yeah.. I guesso.. What about Cleo.. Have I fucked things up??" Dave muttered, somewhat worried.
"Yeah.. Things are pretty messed up, but I have charm, charisma and her car keys.." Peter chuckled softly and exited the bedroom. "Good night, Malucci..."
Peter left the room, his hand on the doorknob as he pulled the door closed. "Dr.Pete?" He bit back a heavy and exasperated sigh and entered the small bedroom.
"Yes, Malucci?"
"You were wrong you know.. I did lose in all this.. I lost a friend, a kidney, and my freedom. I can't exactly go home now can I?!" He smiled harshly at Benton, before dropping his head onto the pillow and turning away from him.
"No, Malucci.. You can't.. You can't go home, I'm sorry." Peter stared at the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry, man.. I.. I gotta go okay?"
Dave nodded in response and the door slid shut behind him as the surgeon escaped the small apartment, the rundown building and the uncomfortable situation.
****
"Dave.. Dave get up.. Get up now.. I don't want you in here alone. You have to come with me. Get up Malucci.. Now.."
Dave pulled his head out from under the Back-Street Boy motifed sheets and glared at Mark from under the goulish bedspread featuring the soul-less grins of Howie and Nick. "What do you want?"
He hadn't got much sleep that night, the disembodied head of A-J on the fleece pillow whispering evil thoughts about taking over the world through mind control, subliminal messages and cute poseable action figures. Secretly, Dave was grateful. Mark had walked in on his nightmare when the boy band had suddenly decided to induct Malucci into the group as the new cute recruit. They figured the name Dave was too main stream. After renaming him Manny, the manager and five pod people left, leaving the seamstress alone with a measuring tape and several lengths of denim. "We're trying to bring back acid wash jeans, actually the whole 80's decade. We think copying New Kids on the Block would be a wise decision. Would you be willing to wear this Mullet wig? How about lipstick and mascara?"
Suddenly Mark's hands had been shaking him awake and he scowled at the man for waking him from his slumber. "Where are 'we' going? Hooters?"
"Very funny, Malucci.. Get up, I'm going to be late for work.." Mark grumbled angrily, yanking down the bed sheets and throwing a scrub set at him.
"Whoa.. County? I'm sorry, Greene. I'm not going there. No thanks.. I'll stay here and sleep." Dave turned onto his side.
"NO.. You're coming with me. What do you mean, you're not going there. You don't have a choice. You're coming with me, and that's final!" Greene barked, his eyes narrowed, a slow trickle of sweat starting on his brow. He glanced at his watch. "Come on Malucci, get your ass in gear."
"I'm not going.. In case you forgot.. A few weeks ago I was nearly killed in that fucking hospital.. You know.. Fruitcake with a butcher knife?? Killed Lucy?? Ring any fucking bells!???" Dave yelled at him. "I don't fucking think you even went for a shit at work after *your* little experience! Probably wore diapers for months after you were attacked. I don't blame ya, and that's the reason I'm not going."
"Get in that fucking car NOW!! My life and my past experiences are NONE of your fucking business and I'd like to think you didn't subscribe to the gossip mill, Malucci. Especially since you're probably prime fodder for it right now. After all, this is the 4th person you've had to come live with?? Having personality conflicts with your housebotes are we DAVE!?" Mark said patronizingly. "Well I don't give a flying fuck. Do what you like, live on the streets, but right now, you're living under my roof and you're going to do as I say. Get out of my daughter's bed, get into those scrubs and I'll see you in the kitchen in five minutes. I made EGGOS."
****
"Kerry.. How's your leg feeling in this weather we're having??" Luka murmured, advancing on the ER Chief as he walked down the slick pavement of the El-Station.Wet blobs of snow littered the grey concrete like soggy toilet paper and she stood in the midst of it, unaware of his question.
"Kerry?" He repeated again, walking up behind her and tapping the woman on the shoulder. Startled she jumped slightly, and swung around to meet his gaze.
"Ohh!" Grabbing his forearm to steady herself, their eyes locked and she reddened. "Hello." Kerry said softly. "You scared me.. Sneaking up on me like that.." She scolded him, her hand trembling on the cane.
"I'm sorry Dr.Weaver.. I didn't mean to.. I spoke to you, asked you a question, you didn't hear me.." Luka's fingers fumbled with the woolen scarf that had been wrapped carefully around his neck. Knit by his deceased wife, he sometimes took it from the closet where it hung and buried his face into the coarse fibres, smelling it.. Imagining her small fingers that had spent hours by the fire creating it..
"That's okay. You're forgiven." Kerry replied with a small smile. "You're going home as well??" She said while mentally giving herself a little kick. Why else would he be taking the El? To see the Chicago scenery?!
"Yes.. Home.. Some of that soup in a can and a good book before bed. Did that Emmie Johnson's films ever get back from Radiology?" He smiled nervously, 'talk about work' Luka said to himself, that way it's easier.
"I don't want to talk about work now, Luka.. Come on, soup's not enough to eat after the day we had.. Come over to my place.. I'll cook dinner."