Author's author's note ('cause I'm aloud to have one, aren't I?): Actually, I'm not so sure If I should be allowed to have one… 'cause I've been a bad author. Bad. I haven't updated for… goodness know how long. And I am dreadfully sorry. Schoolwork had something to do with it… and yes, soaringmonkeymuffins, I'll try not to die from schoolwork overload! Gasp…

Author's disclaimer ('cause I s'pose I should have one…): Yes! I finally own it!... darn, knew it wouldn't work. Grumble.

Chapter 8 – If You Didn't Know…

"Hello, Neela." Abby suddenly turned on an airy smile. Her voice was soft, vaguely sardonic and so… Abbyish. It sounded so normal. Something made Neela feel very uneasy.

"Hi."

Neela took another step forward, still smiling weakly and eyeing the pair on the piano stool warily. Abby didn't seem to either shrink backward or lean forward. Neela couldn't decide how to read the body language – there didn't seem to be anything there to read.

As her shoes made a gentle clip clop sound down the aisle, Neela wished she'd worn a more silent pair. Inside her mind, a battle was raging.

Run away, run away before you do anything else stupid.

No, go! Go to her… she needs you.

What, a failure like me? Let Doctor Lewis handle this. They've known each other longer. She's a better Doctor than I am. My patient satisfaction scores sucked. You hear? They sucked. And I'm not even American…

It's not about being a better Doctor. It's not about being American. We're all people in here, right? And Abby's not a patient. Sort of. This is a friend you're dealing with! Go on, comfort her. She needs someone at a time like this. Someone like you. You're steady, if a little socially inept, but reliable…

Someone like me? Yeah right. Socially inept. Right about now would be the time to start thinking about moving out.

Abby wasn't much help. She didn't even give her one clue. She just seemed to be… sitting there. Not even waiting for anything, just sitting there and smiling lightly, her eyes all shiny and glazed…

Oh gods. She'd been crying. Both of them had.

There it was again, that odd, tight feeling in her throat. Neela swallowed as she stood before Abby. If there ever was a time when she wished that she could be a hundred times more brave, then now was it.

Neela tried to drown all her fears as she leaned awkwardly towards Abby and hugged her.

She felt Abby return the hug, but something about it wasn't quite right. Something seemed… fake. So awkward. Neela understood their friendship hadn't really feelings-based one. They'd come together more out of circumstance than anything. They were colleagues, fellow Interns, study-buddies… but neither had ever told one another "You're a great friend, you know that?" Did that mean she'd been taking Abby for granted? She'd slept on her couch for six months, drank all her milk and eaten all her cereal… Not that she based her friendships on hugs and slumber parties and painting each other's toenails and all that jazz, but she'd just never ever told Abby that… that she was her friend.

Neela pulled away. She felt far too sentimental to be useful.

"How're you going?"

"Fine, okay." Abby answered too quickly. There was still that airy smile on her lips, only now Neela knew. It was fake. It had to be. She couldn't be smiling after all that she'd been through.

"You okay, though?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"But I mean-"

"I'm fine." Abby repeated with a little annoyance, her expression wavering for a moment, then reverting back to one of calm complacency. It irked Neela.

"I heard- Susan. She told us."

"Yeah. I know."

Silence. Neela absently noticed Aster's eyes flicking between the two of them, trying to make sense of the awkward situation. Because of course, Doctors didn't just run around hugging patients at random. They just didn't. Then why… why had the two of them been crying? What where they even doing here? Did Abby know anything about the arthritis?

Neela cleared her throat.

"Is… is there anything I can do?"

Abby squinted slightly through her smile, and Neela felt like she was being scrutinized, very closely. She prayed for it to end soon.

"No. It's okay."

For a moment, Neela was lost for words. Then she suddenly remembered the one thing that she could do.

"I, uh… I can take you home, after my shift ends. If you want?"

She darted her eyes nervously from Abby, to Aster, then back to Abby again. For some reason, she wasn't surprised when she noticed that Abby's expression hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Okay… thanks." Abby replied curtly with a little nod. There was a pause, and Neela waited to be told, 'okay, you can leave now,' but it never came. She shifted her stance nervously. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to break the silence. Then, in a sudden moment of recollection, She remembered why she was there, and hastily turned to face Aster.

"Aster?" She inquired nicely of the girl, who'd been silent up till now. "I think we've got to go back downstairs. It'll be time to call your parents soon."

Aster didn't say a thing.

"It's not good for you, playing the piano, you know."

"I know." Came the steely response. Neela shivered when she was the redness around the girl's eyes. They were still so blue, and she was sure the girl hated her. Well, she was only another in a long string of dissatisfied patients who had filled out forms on her.

"Is she yours?" Abby murmured, catching Neela's eye.

"Uh – yeah. Yes, she is. Yes."

"Okay."

Silence followed, not one of the three making any movement, until Neela's pager suddenly erupted again.

"Oh, dammit. I-" Neela muttered, fumbling for the beeping device in her coat pocket.

"That's okay, go downstairs. They want you."

"I'm sorry?"

"The need you down there. Go." Abby repeated, as Neela found the button and jabbed it mercilessly with an expression of distaste. "Go on, I can bring her back down again."

"What? I mean – are you sure?"

Abby looked her square in the eye.

"I'm sure. I'll see you when your shift ends."

Neela's gaze flitted from Aster, to Abby, to Aster and back again. She half smiled, then in an instant was deadly serious again. She'd come up here to find a patient. She'd found patient plus Abby, and now she was supposed to leave without either of them?

"I- I really should bring Aster back down. I mean-"

"Go."

Abby looked up at Neela, held her gaze for a moment, and smiled. But there was something else in the smile, Neela noticed. There was a sadness. Something sad, self-sacrificing, and resigned.

Like she knew that she was alone.

Before she could stop it, Neela's imagination ran away with her. She imagined somebody clapping a hand over Abby's mouth and holding a gun to her temple, forcing her into the back of a truck. She imagined an entire gang surrounding her, fingers at triggers while she worked away on a patient. She imagined them forcing her onto her back…

Neela had to physically stop herself from clapping a hand to her mouth and being sick. Something burned at the back of her eyes, and an unearthly felling was tugging at her throat, making it impossible to form words of any kind. Oh God. How could people be so cruel?

Neela nodded towards Aster. She carefully avoided Abby's eyes, and quickly made her way towards the exit, just how she got there she wasn't quite sure. Things seemed to be going by in a bit of a blur. She hurried along the stupid corridors that all looked the same, and somehow managed to find her way around people and wheelchairs and utility trays back to the elevator. She never thought she'd been so glad to see a pair of steel doors. Neela jabbed the button over and over again, and shifted anxiously from foot the foot, mumbling hotly beneath her breath.

"Come on, come on. Hurry up. Please, come on."

A hot tear spilled down her cheek. Angrily she wiped it away, jabbed the button again, and growled.

"Come on! Let me out of here!"

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors slid open and she practically leaped into the empty elevator. It wasn't until the doors had finally shut behind her that Neela gave in to the overwhelming urge to let her tired body sink backwards against the wall, and let two small, burning tears spill down her cheeks.

"Oh God," she murmured, staring aimlessly across at the opposite wall. "I don't know what to do."

That was it. That was the sum and total of her fears. She didn't know what to do. It was stupid, really, that someone like her who'd been at school for almost all her life could not have been prepared for every possible situation. And it was stupid, really, that she should be crying. Was she such a baby? Neela wiped her sore eyes on her coat sleeve.

If only her students could see her now.

---

It was amazing, the amount of things about the Doctor's lounge that could seem more appealing than paperwork. Procrastination was such an awful word. Susan Lewis rarely used it – that only seemed like admitting to a crime, like if you didn't mention it, than you weren't doing it. So now, she was procrastinating about admitting that she was procrastinating.

She'd ploughed her way through a few charts before that had become insufferable. It was crazy, really. Were they really expected to sign off on everything? Honestly, It seemed you needed about four Doctors and a Nurse just to confirm that a patient existed.

Next, she'd checked the fridge, to see if anyone had been stupid enough to leave behind something that resembled breakfast. Her search had yielded nothing but a mottled banana, and day-old tub of yoghurt. After a quick tossup, she ate the yoghurt. It was still sealed, after all.

After that, she'd reviewed a sheet of budget cuts. Too many numbers, all crammed into such a small space… the makings of a record-braking headache were forming, so Susan lay down on the couch for a quick nap.

When she'd shut her eyes for exactly two seconds, Jerry came barging through the door. She felt ready to strangle him.

"What?" Susan sat up and snapped, irritated.

"Sorry to wake you, but Weaver's calling. Says she's got a bone to pick with you, or something."

Susan flopped backwards onto the couch with a groan.

"She really said that? Okay… I'll take it in here."

"Okay."

Susan breathed very deeply before standing to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

The shrill voice, somehow magnified through the cables, came halfway through her greeting and almost burst her eardrum.

"What's going on down there! How can a Doctor be kidnapped from our ambulance bay, and I don't hear about it until I catch my secretary gossiping to radiology?"

"Kerry…" Susan winced and held the receiver back a little way, slumping wearily into a chair. "…I was meaning to call you."

"Meaning is very different from doing, Doctor Lewis, and as the Chief of Staff I'd expect it to be your duty to inform me if something like this happens. Why didn't you?"

"I… I've already made a formal announcement to the rest of the staff. It's only been a couple of hours, I haven't even called the police yet. I just didn't think that-"

"That what? That I wouldn't be concerned about the welfare of you people down there?"

Susan's throat felt dry.

"And what do you mean, you haven't called the police, yet? Susan, A Doctor was abducted, for God's sake! A crime happened! If there's been a breech of security, or if something happens, you have to let me know about it. If something's gone wrong, then It's not like I-"

"What? It's not like you don't care what happens to the little people?" Susan suddenly heard herself say, voice laced with sarcasm. "And would you please stop referring to Abby as 'A Doctor'? The Doctor has a name."

The moment the words had left her mouth, she knew she'd gone too far.

For a few seconds, Weaver was silent, and Susan knew she'd hit a nerve. There was nothing but the muffled sound of breathing on the other end to signify that Kerry was still listening. Susan rubbed a hand across her forehead, feeling weary again.

"Kerry, I-"

"How is Doctor Lockhart?" The voice cut her off, dramatically decreased in volume, but somehow keeping that hard edge it could never seem to get rid of. Susan dug her nail into the woodwork of the table.

"Alright. She came in with blood down her front, but that didn't turn out to be hers. B.p's a little higher than normal, she's sore, there's tension in the shoulders and upper arms, a few bruises here and there, but apart from that, she-"

"That's not what I meant."

Susan closed her eyes, and leaned backwards in her chair. She took a deep breath.

"She's had it pretty rough. The memories are still vivid, and she was doing CPR for a long time. That would account for the pain in her arms. I think… maybe she's suffering post-traumatic stress. Still, I don't know…"

Susan had intended to let the sentence hang in the air, but there was nothing but a dull, white-noise sound coming from the other end.

"…I think it's too early to be looking for help.."

Silence for a few beats. Susan wondered what Kerry's face looked like.

"It's never too early, Doctor Lewis. Why haven't you called the police, yet?"

Straight, blunt, non-evasive. That was Weaver.

"She wasn't ready to talk to them."

"You should still have reported it. It's a crime, Susan, and if you leave it a couple of hours who knows what they might start to think? Who knows just where those people are?"

Susan clapped a hand over her eyes and massaged her temple tiredly. Why was the woman always right?

"Okay. I'll call them now."

"Good. And… Doctor Lewis?"

"Yes?"

"Will you… give my regards to Doctor Lockhart?"

Susan managed a weary smile. She was sure she could translate that from Weaver-ish. It meant something like… she was worried.

"Yes. Okay. Bye."

With a click, Susan set down the receiver. For a few moments, she stared down at a part of the table not covered by paperwork. She dug her nail even deeper. Then she picked up the phone again. She waited for the dial tone. Her fingers methodically jabbed the numbers she needed. She waited, spoke when she had to, waited some more, was redirected, then finally…

"Hello? I'm Doctor Lewis, I'm calling from County General, Chicago. I need to report a kidnapping…"