Author's Apology: I apologise for a few things. One: That I haven't been around much lately – a combination of assessment tasks and exams. Two: That this chapter is considerably shorter than most previous chapter. Three: That I have left people hanging. I think that is the worst crime that an author can commit, so I'm very sorry.

Author's Disclaimer:I never have, Do not claim to, and Never will own ER. There, I think I've covered every possible tense.

Chapter 9 - Wendall

"Now people, like I said before, there's only one way to survive in the ER."

Morris was having the time of his life. A gaggle of med students were following him like four, hungry shadows, and they were enraptured by his every word. This was the way he liked it. Showing the green kids the ropes around the graveyard shift, kids who were still eager enough to sit around at three o'clock in the morning massaging old lady's bunions.

Oh, it was a good, good world.

"Now I'll say this once and once only, so you might want to right this down, Evan." Morris pointed a surreptitious finger at a tall, gangly young man writing down his every word, "Do what the Doctors say. No questions asked. In a place like this, it pays to be nice to your superiors, people. And why do you think that is? Any suggestions? Come on. No one?"

Morris blinked confusedly, as the med students suddenly parted, causing a small ripple effect. He barely had time to ask 'What the?' before a shoulder-high black and white blur brushed straight into him, knocking the wind clean out of him.

Morris stumbled to the side, wobbled, and coughed noisily. When he regained his balance, he noticed the fact that nobody offered to help him. In fact, Evan was still bobbing his head feverishly up and down, taking notes, of all things.

"What the hell was that?" Morris sputtered, rubbing his shoulder.

"Uhh…" started Evan, gripping his notepad uncertainly, "Isn't she an Intern?"

Morris scanned the corridor behind him. Well, there was only one shoulder-height, white-coated, black-haired Intern around here.

"Neela…" He muttered crankily.

"So," Evan began tentatively, seemingly the question-asker of the bunch, "Be, uh, polite to your superiors… because…"

"Because they're the ones who're gonna be writing your reference!" Said Morris, exasperated. "Come on, people. Three a.m. in the ER doesn't mean time to slack off. Moving on, people. Moving on…"

Meanwhile, Neela high-tailed her way straight for the admit desk, taking only as many detours as she was forced to.

When she got there, she frowned and stopped short. Pratt was swinging his stethoscope nonchalantly around his shoulder. Sam was clicking away at the computer keyboard. Jerry was uttering something suspicious down the phone line. Doctors Kovac and Carter were scanning the board with arms folded, occasionally leaning across to mutter something to the other. The only person missing was Doctor Lewis.

And Abby.

Neela trotted to stand in front of Pratt, her arms folded in front of her chest, her dark eyes calculating suspiciously.

It was a good few seconds before Pratt noticed she was there. Typical, Neela was tempted to say, but she held her tongue. When he finally noticed her, he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Where's the trauma?" Neela asked bluntly.

Pratt looked down at her if she was speaking Punjabi. He knitted his forehead in confusion.

"What trauma?"

"You paged me. So, what's happening down here? Do you need me?"

Pratt shrugged, gathering an authoritative air that Neela found very aggravating.

"You were taking too long. Someone already called down, anyway. Said they found your patient playing the piano. In the chapel."

If he hadn't said that last part as if it were an accusation, Neela would have almost forgiven him.

"Yes. I found her," She said curtly, "And you know who else I found, too? Abby. I asked her how she was doing. She said not so great, but that's okay, and thankyou very much but I'll bring your patient back down shortly. Because downstairs, someone might really need you."

And with that, Neela turned on her heel and stormed into the Doctor's lounge.

When she stepped into the softer light of the lounge, however, she'd cooled down sufficiently enough to feel bad about being so rude. This had never happened to her before. Her mouth had never brought her into danger this many times in one night. What was happening to her? What sort of person was she turning into? All she knew was that her shift was speedily turning into the longest and most emotional twelve hours she'd ever experienced in her life.

With a sigh, she turned to the side to fix her eyes on her salvation – coffee. Glorious, warm, above all caffeinated, coffee. Neela shook herself, and went to grab a cup.

"You wouldn't mind making two of those, would you?"

Neela almost jumped a mile high, for the second time that night. She whirled around to be met with the sight of Doctor Lewis, lying on the couch, with her hand over her head and her eyes half closed.

"Oh, sorry…" Neela suddenly stuttered, breathing again. "I didn't know there was anyone else in here."

"That's okay," Said Susan without moving, "Neither does anybody else, apparently."

"You'd like a coffee, Doctor Lewis?"

"Please."

Neela smiled briefly, and grabbed a half-full container of coffee checking quickly to make sure it wasn't decaf. That would defeat the purpose entirely.

"Sugar? Milk?" She asked without turning around.

"No, and no. Thankyou."

Neela spooned the powdery brown substance, flicking the switch on the hot water. The room was slowly filled with the sound of boiling and bubbling, and after a while she could pour the boiling hot liquid into the cheap mugs, giving each a quick stir. Loving the warmth of the ceramic on her fingers, she went to stand by the small table, handing a black coffee to a tired Doctor Lewis.

Silence ensued, and the Doctors drank their coffee while leaving each to their respective thoughts. Neela was starting to feel a whole lot better. She couldn't say the same for Susan, however, who seemed to be screwing up her nose and most likely thinking, 'this stuff's called coffee?' True, it wasn't brilliant, but it was caffeine nonetheless.

But Neela suspected it wasn't just the coffee that was rattling Doctor Lewis. There was something deeper, something similar to what she'd seen in Abby's eyes a little while ago.

The comfortable silence was broken by a slight knock at the door. Susan groaned, but muttered "At least some people still knock…", then she swallowed a mouthful of coffee before pushing it to the side. "Come in!" She called tiredly, whilst Neela gripped her own mug with tight knuckles.

"Doctor Lewis?" A blonde, pointed head poked itself around the doorway, smiling kindly. "Hey, it's Wendall."

"Hi Wendall," Susan yawned and smiled, smoothing down her ruffled hair a little. "Anything you need?"

"Well, actually," the social worker continued, stepping inside, "I'm down here to talk to Abby."

The lounge door closed with a thunk. Neela and Susan stared openly, Susan wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"But I didn't call…"

"No, but Weaver did. She told me about it all. Asked me to come down here and do a consult, but seeing as she said Abby was your patient, it was only right to check the situation with you."

Susan blinked.

"Well, I guess so…"

"So," Wendall went on, her voice turning soft and her eyes turning serious as she stared intently at Susan, "How are you doing? All of you?"

Susan looked as if she was about to overload, then swallowed, staring straight back.

"We're okay. Listen, I don't know if Weaver told you, but I never said…"

"Hey, it's okay," Wendall said soothingly, a compassionate smile on her lips. "I'll just have a chat to her, see if we can't talk through a few things, and we'll see how we go from there, okay?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean, how much do you know about Ab-"

"I won't go too deep."

"You work alongside her, Wendall."

"I know, I know. It'll just be a quick chat, just to see-"

"I just don't know if it should be someone that she works alongside with-"

"She's not down here!" Neela suddenly interrupted, gripping her coffee even tighter than before.

Two pairs of expectant eyes were suddenly upon her, waiting for her to continue.

"What do you mean, 'she's not down here', Neela?" Susan repeated slowly. Neela's knuckles turned white.

"She… I was upstairs, looking for my patient. A teenage rheumatoid girl, she'd gotten a little emotional, to say the least. I found her in the chapel. Found them both in the chapel, actually."

Susan raised her eyebrows.

"The chapel? Why was she in the chapel?"

"Well I don't know."

"And you left her up there?"

"Yes."

"Neela-"

"What was I supposed to do?"

Everybody in the room shifted uncomfortably. Wendall, being the trained social worker that she was, tried to make the best of the situation.

"Well, If you wanted me to, I could just go upstairs and we could do this… in the chapel?"

Susan frowned and shook her head.

"No, No. Listen. The police are already on their way, and I don't believe it would be in Doctor Lockhart's best interest if she was forced into two confrontations in such close proximity. Wendall, I understand that you're doing your job. I admire you for that. But I think…"

Susan's voice wavered, and she halted. What did she think? Was she contradicting herself? She was being a hypocrite, surely. After all that time she'd spent in the room with Abby, and she wasn't even a social worker. She was an ER Doctor. But she was also a friend. This was so much harder than it needed to be… Susan suddenly changed her mind so quickly, that she even surprised herself.

"Wendall, how would you feel about helping out with the police? You know what's going on." She was about to add 'and Abby could use the moral support', when she realised that that really would be contradicting herself. Part of her was being truthful, as it was. Maybe she should have gotten social work involved earlier. Wendall understood the questioning process. It wasn't her responsibility to be keeping Abby's 'case', and Susan used the word 'case' tentatively, all to herself.

The social worker smiled understandingly. "Sure. Just give us a shout when you're ready." Then she offered each of the Doctors a friendly pat on the shoulder, and exited the lounge.

The door shut with a dull thunk, and Susan surveyed the lounge quietly. Her eyes landed on the coffee cup. She reached over and downed the last of it.

"Well, can't hide out here all night." Said Doctor Susan Lewis almost regretfully. She massaged her forehead tiredly, and with a monumental effort heaved herself up off the couch. "Thanks for the coffee." She smiled quickly over her shoulder, and pushed open the doorway.

Neela waited for the inevitable thunk of the door, sealing her away from the rest of the hospital. For the first time in nine hours, everything was blessedly quiet. Neela sipped her coffee in silence, soaking up the wonderful peace. After all, she didn't know how long it was going to last.