~**Author's Note: **~
Well, it's pretty self-explanatory that I'm following the spoilers for the show, at this point. I don't necessarily know if I'll be going the same direction as what airs... But, for now, this story is pretty dangerous territory for anyone wanting to remain unspoiled. So be forwarned. It may not be exact -but there is enough in here, it may ruin the viewing for you, if you read.
~**~ I make not one claim to any of these characters. I did not create them. I just want to play with them for a while.~**~
~**~ They belong to NBC, ER, the WB... Yeah. Everyone BUT me, heh! But I promise to take good care of them.~**~
~**~ If I lost anyone with the last chapter... well, come back -we can't always hit it outta the park, but that doesn't mean we're outta the game...~**~
And now, with no further adieu...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Debbie was cool. At first it was hard to get to know her, but after awhile, she grew on him... or, closer to the truth, HE grew on HER. She was laid back; fun to be around. Laughed easily. Never seemed to let the little things get her down. Debbie was..... Effortless.
Not like- Yeah.
There was something to be said for not having to work so hard to communicate with someone. (although, he and Abby didn't always have to work so hard....) Of course, Debbie didn't know him like she did. Didn't know about the stabbing; the attendant addiction... Didn't coax out of him his most private thoughts. Didn't challange him to... to give. Give until it hurt. Didn't try to protect him.
And dammit! That was good. (wasn't it?) He didn't need to be protected. He wanted to be the protector. Or, better yet, he just wanted to BE. Debbie let him do that.
Sleep still occasionally eluded him; and, when it did, he found himself thinking of... of her. Comfortably prone, on an uncomfortable mat, he'd think of the whisps of hair in her eyes and have to fight the urge to mentally reach up and brush them from her face... He wanted to touch her face. Feel her body. But, he didn't have that right. She wasn't his anymore. He set her free. And, as the weeks passed, the pain dulled. The 'thud' of his heart quieted. Amidst the chaos of his new, temporary home, his mind found solace. His emotions smoothed out; his sinew lengthened. He was, dare he say it? At peace. At peace amidst the wild things...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taking a deep drag of her cigarette, Abby pondered her entrance into the building. This was... embarrassing. It was the only word she could produce, to explain the way she was feeling. Thursday, she was the charge nurse for her shift. After three days off, she was returning. As a med student. To her place of business. This wasn't going to work. Simply -no one would accept her as a med student, again. Malik, Chuny -hell, the whole nursing staff would view her as a traitor. She had stumbled (No. Strode purposefully!) back over to "the dark side."
Heh. Richard. She did stride purposefully, didn't she? Walked right up to his door and asked for what she wanted. And, miraculously, he agreed. It felt good. It felt really good to follow through on something. Even if that something was simply asking her ex to co-sign her school loan. He owed it to her. She held down the full-time job (and a part-time one!) while he went to med school. All the while, promising her turn would come....
Still, trepidation almost overcame her triumph. Fear of what to expect... Wondering if she still had the drive to complete this race.... She hoped they'd just give her a break in the ER -not make too big a deal of her status change...
And, luckily, she was on surgery rotation. Surely she wouldn't have to spend much time in the ER... Surely? But she was assigned to Elizabeth and -holy crap!- that woman could be a real... Well, let's just say, she learned well from Benton.
So, this was going to be a very interesting day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Life was good. He was helping people. Making a difference. Just as he intended. Angelique was an invaluable resource in field medicine. And, she was helping him with his French. She was a terrific, uncomplicated friend.
Charles, who never missed an opportunity to rub his nose in Luka's legendary prowess with "the ladies," became his invaluable ally. Tutoring him in every aspect of the culture. Keeping him from making a fool of himself. Charles became his lifeline. And his social director. Contrary to what he had originally believed, a night life was actually to be had, in the Congo. And Charles pointed the way.
Every night, when they could get away from the clinic, they would tiredly make their way to the little cafe. He didn't think it even had a name. If it did, no one of his acquaintance knew it... Angelique called it the "Cafe Americaines" to make fun of him. He was one of a handful of Americans at the little watering hole. He would listen to their political jabs and feign umbrage... but really? He didn't care. Let them put down America. America was big enough -she could handle it. Debbie would glance his way and roll her eyes... He would look heavenward and cluck his tongue... It was becoming a nightly ritual. A ritual with which he was becoming increasingly more comfortable. And anyway... He was feeling more and more apolitical the longer he stayed.
Somewhere along the way, he realized that this was it. This is where he belonged. He wasn't going back. And almost immediately, he felt the familiar pang in his heart as his mind snagged on Abby. Three months gone by like a flash, and he still thought of her almost daily. The pain was dulled, yes, but thoughts of her still plagued him.
He found himself wondering what she was doing. Right now. Sometimes his thoughts of her made his face flush. He still wanted her. Imagined her in his mind; in his his arms... his bed. And the fear. The fear that, with Luka back in Chicago...
This was the point at which he willfully stopped his mind from wandering. It was his choice to let her go. He told her not to wait for him... He had no right to will her not to choose someone else. And if she did choose Luka...?
Well. Luka was a lucky man, then...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Abby. Abby? Abby, wake up... Abby! Accent on first syllable; slight lilt at the end; thick Croatian accent... Yep. That was Luka's voice, alright.
"I'm up... I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" she murmered lightly. Taking a nursing shift occasionally in the ER, entwined with med school, meant that sleep took the back seat...
"Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?" His brow knitted slightly, Luka looked the picture of concern.
"No... no thank you... I'll pick up a cup at the 'New and Improved' Roach Coach.... and a paper while I'm at it...." Half muttering, half musing; throwing the thin blanket off her legs, she stumbled off the narrow gurney.
"It's no trouble, I'm on my way..." Ever since she'd gotten the letter, Luka seemed determined to treat her with kid gloves. It was endearing, mostly. But, embarrassing when anyone else (Susan!) noticed.
"What are you doing, Abby?" Susan would prod her with questions. Are you and Luka... you know? He's hot, Abby.... You could certainly do worse... You know what they say about love the second time around.... Do you think this is it? I mean, is this it for you and Carter...? You don't owe him anything, right? He went off and left. You stayed...
Yeah. He left; Abby stayed. And as forward as her professional life moved; she felt stuck, personally. She stayed, right where she was when he walked away. Luka was sweet, really, and she supposed she loved him. 'But I'm not IN love with him...' So, she tried to be just his friend... Not take anything from him that hinted of impropriety. Didn't want to entangle herself in that loop again. She hadn't the time, anyway. Even if she felt she had the time for a relationship... She and Luka had both moved on. They were friends. And she wasn't about to muck up another good friendship for the sake of security in her bed.
"Abby? So -you are set for java?" Peering at her from heavy-lidded eyes, he smiled slightly. Abby couldn't help but notice that, Yes. He was very easy on the eyes... She certainly could do worse. Heh.
"Yep. Thanks, Luka. Oh! -and thanks for waking me, too..." He really is a good guy, Abby mused.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It came out of nowhere, really... Hit him right in the gut. Reminded him of the way he felt when he walked into the lounge and found Greene, Weaver and... and Abby; waiting for him. This night started the same as most every night since he came back to the Congo. Beckoned again to the Cafe Americaines after an impossibly hard clinic day, Carter felt his feet heavy on the cobbled walkway. He didn't really feel like hanging out tonight...
"What'cha doing, John?" Debbie sidled up next to him.
Kissing her on the cheek, he muttered, "Ah, nuttin much, how 'bout you?" Same exchange, every night... It comforted him, knowing Debbie didn't expect more. Just ... whatever it was they were doing, was fine with her...
"I was thinking about goin' on in to the Cafe AmeriCANZ and getting plastered as I listen to the others lambaste my country's foreign policy for a while... You?" she joked good-naturedly.
Smiling, John took her hand, comfortably, and walked her into the cafe... "Yeah, let's go get cowed, shall we?"
Making their way through the sultry, yet jubilant atmosphere, they sat down, simultaneously in their now-familiar chairs. Greetings made the round of the table... Conversations weaved in and amongst them... And then he saw her. And this, this is when he felt the blow to his gut.
A new, very poised, very beautiful face. He was struck, hell, thunderstruck by her beauty. Exotic, the first word that popped into his mind. He stammered a greeting and, then, the conversation engulfed him and Debbie. No time for anyone to take any notice of the affect this woman's remarkable appearance had on him.
As usual, the topic was American foreign policy... "It always seems to come back to this' he thought, amused. And Beauty had brains, too. Almost too late, Carter realized she was addressing him, something about American pharmaceuticals and the high cost... Thinking quickly, he threw in, "Ah, but Doctors like freebies as much as the next guy...!"
The briefest pause, and then her eyes twinkled. Whew! She understood and appreciated his comment for the ironic humor he intended... He didn't want to offend this woman. Or, apparantly, stop looking at her. She was striking.
"John Carter, MD - meet Makemba Likasu, she is running an HIV/AIDS ARV demonstration project..." Debbie, oblivious to this woman's affect on him, obligingly made the introductions. "And this is Peter- I don't know what he does..." She winked at Makemba's "friend."
"I am with the Ministry of Finance..." He winked back.
"Nice to meet you... both." Simultaneously prying his eyes off Makemba and taking Peter's hand. "You're using the triple cocktail, here in Africa?" Carter glanced again at Makemba, while taking her hand. "Isn't that prohibitively expensive?"
"Yes, it is, actually" Her gorgeous eyes flashed.
"This is what I am trying to tell her... Where my department comes in to the argument... We don't have this money..." Moving in closer, Peter draped his arm discreetly across Makemba's shoulders.
"Peter thinks I should still be in the villages, handing out condoms..." Eyes blazing now, "Meanwhile, millions of Africans die..."
"But it would cost, what, $15,000 US every year to treat each patient using the triple cocktail...?" Carter halted, mentally doing the math, "ahuh!... that would be more than I can multiply in my head..." grabbing a napkin, "uh, fifteen thou a year times -what is the estimated number of Africans infected with the virus..? Twenty-four million and... damn. That would be over $360 mil-"
"We aren't using the name-brand pharmaceuticals... developed with American money..." she interrupted mildly.
"But... well, what are you using, then..?" Carter was puzzled. He'd just met this woman and he was captivated by her. She was razor sharp, quick-witted and ... well, the obvious. Absolutely ravishing.
"We are using a generic, fixed-dose combination of the usual -lamivudine, stavudin, nevirapine. The patent is currently held in South Africa. We are very fortunate to be getting this generic. One pill twice daily, at a cost of .36 cents a day per person..." She glanced around the table impassively, "This, Dr. John Carter, MD," she emphasized 'MD' ".. is what our trial is using..."
"Oh, listen - I love this song! Charles, dance with me..." Angelique, smiled at the table, "Come on -enough politics, let's dance!"
Peter led Makemba to the floor. Twirling around him, Makemba glanced Carter's way, caught his eye, and gave him a slow, meaningful smile...
"They're playing our song, Carter" Debbie stood and proffered her hand to him, laughing, "or providing a nice out from that intense conversation...."
'You have no idea,' he mused. No idea whatsoever.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Ramblings:
I don't like Makemba Likasu. Don't like her one bit. She is beautiful, smart, self-possessed... Confident. Yup, a real head-turner. She is one dangerous cookie for my Carter/Abby hopes to bear. But ... tptb (and Carter) are determined to have her and so, I must acquiesce. But. I can make of her what I will, can't I? Oh, and I shall... I shall.....
Well, it's pretty self-explanatory that I'm following the spoilers for the show, at this point. I don't necessarily know if I'll be going the same direction as what airs... But, for now, this story is pretty dangerous territory for anyone wanting to remain unspoiled. So be forwarned. It may not be exact -but there is enough in here, it may ruin the viewing for you, if you read.
~**~ I make not one claim to any of these characters. I did not create them. I just want to play with them for a while.~**~
~**~ They belong to NBC, ER, the WB... Yeah. Everyone BUT me, heh! But I promise to take good care of them.~**~
~**~ If I lost anyone with the last chapter... well, come back -we can't always hit it outta the park, but that doesn't mean we're outta the game...~**~
And now, with no further adieu...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Debbie was cool. At first it was hard to get to know her, but after awhile, she grew on him... or, closer to the truth, HE grew on HER. She was laid back; fun to be around. Laughed easily. Never seemed to let the little things get her down. Debbie was..... Effortless.
Not like- Yeah.
There was something to be said for not having to work so hard to communicate with someone. (although, he and Abby didn't always have to work so hard....) Of course, Debbie didn't know him like she did. Didn't know about the stabbing; the attendant addiction... Didn't coax out of him his most private thoughts. Didn't challange him to... to give. Give until it hurt. Didn't try to protect him.
And dammit! That was good. (wasn't it?) He didn't need to be protected. He wanted to be the protector. Or, better yet, he just wanted to BE. Debbie let him do that.
Sleep still occasionally eluded him; and, when it did, he found himself thinking of... of her. Comfortably prone, on an uncomfortable mat, he'd think of the whisps of hair in her eyes and have to fight the urge to mentally reach up and brush them from her face... He wanted to touch her face. Feel her body. But, he didn't have that right. She wasn't his anymore. He set her free. And, as the weeks passed, the pain dulled. The 'thud' of his heart quieted. Amidst the chaos of his new, temporary home, his mind found solace. His emotions smoothed out; his sinew lengthened. He was, dare he say it? At peace. At peace amidst the wild things...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taking a deep drag of her cigarette, Abby pondered her entrance into the building. This was... embarrassing. It was the only word she could produce, to explain the way she was feeling. Thursday, she was the charge nurse for her shift. After three days off, she was returning. As a med student. To her place of business. This wasn't going to work. Simply -no one would accept her as a med student, again. Malik, Chuny -hell, the whole nursing staff would view her as a traitor. She had stumbled (No. Strode purposefully!) back over to "the dark side."
Heh. Richard. She did stride purposefully, didn't she? Walked right up to his door and asked for what she wanted. And, miraculously, he agreed. It felt good. It felt really good to follow through on something. Even if that something was simply asking her ex to co-sign her school loan. He owed it to her. She held down the full-time job (and a part-time one!) while he went to med school. All the while, promising her turn would come....
Still, trepidation almost overcame her triumph. Fear of what to expect... Wondering if she still had the drive to complete this race.... She hoped they'd just give her a break in the ER -not make too big a deal of her status change...
And, luckily, she was on surgery rotation. Surely she wouldn't have to spend much time in the ER... Surely? But she was assigned to Elizabeth and -holy crap!- that woman could be a real... Well, let's just say, she learned well from Benton.
So, this was going to be a very interesting day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Life was good. He was helping people. Making a difference. Just as he intended. Angelique was an invaluable resource in field medicine. And, she was helping him with his French. She was a terrific, uncomplicated friend.
Charles, who never missed an opportunity to rub his nose in Luka's legendary prowess with "the ladies," became his invaluable ally. Tutoring him in every aspect of the culture. Keeping him from making a fool of himself. Charles became his lifeline. And his social director. Contrary to what he had originally believed, a night life was actually to be had, in the Congo. And Charles pointed the way.
Every night, when they could get away from the clinic, they would tiredly make their way to the little cafe. He didn't think it even had a name. If it did, no one of his acquaintance knew it... Angelique called it the "Cafe Americaines" to make fun of him. He was one of a handful of Americans at the little watering hole. He would listen to their political jabs and feign umbrage... but really? He didn't care. Let them put down America. America was big enough -she could handle it. Debbie would glance his way and roll her eyes... He would look heavenward and cluck his tongue... It was becoming a nightly ritual. A ritual with which he was becoming increasingly more comfortable. And anyway... He was feeling more and more apolitical the longer he stayed.
Somewhere along the way, he realized that this was it. This is where he belonged. He wasn't going back. And almost immediately, he felt the familiar pang in his heart as his mind snagged on Abby. Three months gone by like a flash, and he still thought of her almost daily. The pain was dulled, yes, but thoughts of her still plagued him.
He found himself wondering what she was doing. Right now. Sometimes his thoughts of her made his face flush. He still wanted her. Imagined her in his mind; in his his arms... his bed. And the fear. The fear that, with Luka back in Chicago...
This was the point at which he willfully stopped his mind from wandering. It was his choice to let her go. He told her not to wait for him... He had no right to will her not to choose someone else. And if she did choose Luka...?
Well. Luka was a lucky man, then...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Abby. Abby? Abby, wake up... Abby! Accent on first syllable; slight lilt at the end; thick Croatian accent... Yep. That was Luka's voice, alright.
"I'm up... I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" she murmered lightly. Taking a nursing shift occasionally in the ER, entwined with med school, meant that sleep took the back seat...
"Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?" His brow knitted slightly, Luka looked the picture of concern.
"No... no thank you... I'll pick up a cup at the 'New and Improved' Roach Coach.... and a paper while I'm at it...." Half muttering, half musing; throwing the thin blanket off her legs, she stumbled off the narrow gurney.
"It's no trouble, I'm on my way..." Ever since she'd gotten the letter, Luka seemed determined to treat her with kid gloves. It was endearing, mostly. But, embarrassing when anyone else (Susan!) noticed.
"What are you doing, Abby?" Susan would prod her with questions. Are you and Luka... you know? He's hot, Abby.... You could certainly do worse... You know what they say about love the second time around.... Do you think this is it? I mean, is this it for you and Carter...? You don't owe him anything, right? He went off and left. You stayed...
Yeah. He left; Abby stayed. And as forward as her professional life moved; she felt stuck, personally. She stayed, right where she was when he walked away. Luka was sweet, really, and she supposed she loved him. 'But I'm not IN love with him...' So, she tried to be just his friend... Not take anything from him that hinted of impropriety. Didn't want to entangle herself in that loop again. She hadn't the time, anyway. Even if she felt she had the time for a relationship... She and Luka had both moved on. They were friends. And she wasn't about to muck up another good friendship for the sake of security in her bed.
"Abby? So -you are set for java?" Peering at her from heavy-lidded eyes, he smiled slightly. Abby couldn't help but notice that, Yes. He was very easy on the eyes... She certainly could do worse. Heh.
"Yep. Thanks, Luka. Oh! -and thanks for waking me, too..." He really is a good guy, Abby mused.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It came out of nowhere, really... Hit him right in the gut. Reminded him of the way he felt when he walked into the lounge and found Greene, Weaver and... and Abby; waiting for him. This night started the same as most every night since he came back to the Congo. Beckoned again to the Cafe Americaines after an impossibly hard clinic day, Carter felt his feet heavy on the cobbled walkway. He didn't really feel like hanging out tonight...
"What'cha doing, John?" Debbie sidled up next to him.
Kissing her on the cheek, he muttered, "Ah, nuttin much, how 'bout you?" Same exchange, every night... It comforted him, knowing Debbie didn't expect more. Just ... whatever it was they were doing, was fine with her...
"I was thinking about goin' on in to the Cafe AmeriCANZ and getting plastered as I listen to the others lambaste my country's foreign policy for a while... You?" she joked good-naturedly.
Smiling, John took her hand, comfortably, and walked her into the cafe... "Yeah, let's go get cowed, shall we?"
Making their way through the sultry, yet jubilant atmosphere, they sat down, simultaneously in their now-familiar chairs. Greetings made the round of the table... Conversations weaved in and amongst them... And then he saw her. And this, this is when he felt the blow to his gut.
A new, very poised, very beautiful face. He was struck, hell, thunderstruck by her beauty. Exotic, the first word that popped into his mind. He stammered a greeting and, then, the conversation engulfed him and Debbie. No time for anyone to take any notice of the affect this woman's remarkable appearance had on him.
As usual, the topic was American foreign policy... "It always seems to come back to this' he thought, amused. And Beauty had brains, too. Almost too late, Carter realized she was addressing him, something about American pharmaceuticals and the high cost... Thinking quickly, he threw in, "Ah, but Doctors like freebies as much as the next guy...!"
The briefest pause, and then her eyes twinkled. Whew! She understood and appreciated his comment for the ironic humor he intended... He didn't want to offend this woman. Or, apparantly, stop looking at her. She was striking.
"John Carter, MD - meet Makemba Likasu, she is running an HIV/AIDS ARV demonstration project..." Debbie, oblivious to this woman's affect on him, obligingly made the introductions. "And this is Peter- I don't know what he does..." She winked at Makemba's "friend."
"I am with the Ministry of Finance..." He winked back.
"Nice to meet you... both." Simultaneously prying his eyes off Makemba and taking Peter's hand. "You're using the triple cocktail, here in Africa?" Carter glanced again at Makemba, while taking her hand. "Isn't that prohibitively expensive?"
"Yes, it is, actually" Her gorgeous eyes flashed.
"This is what I am trying to tell her... Where my department comes in to the argument... We don't have this money..." Moving in closer, Peter draped his arm discreetly across Makemba's shoulders.
"Peter thinks I should still be in the villages, handing out condoms..." Eyes blazing now, "Meanwhile, millions of Africans die..."
"But it would cost, what, $15,000 US every year to treat each patient using the triple cocktail...?" Carter halted, mentally doing the math, "ahuh!... that would be more than I can multiply in my head..." grabbing a napkin, "uh, fifteen thou a year times -what is the estimated number of Africans infected with the virus..? Twenty-four million and... damn. That would be over $360 mil-"
"We aren't using the name-brand pharmaceuticals... developed with American money..." she interrupted mildly.
"But... well, what are you using, then..?" Carter was puzzled. He'd just met this woman and he was captivated by her. She was razor sharp, quick-witted and ... well, the obvious. Absolutely ravishing.
"We are using a generic, fixed-dose combination of the usual -lamivudine, stavudin, nevirapine. The patent is currently held in South Africa. We are very fortunate to be getting this generic. One pill twice daily, at a cost of .36 cents a day per person..." She glanced around the table impassively, "This, Dr. John Carter, MD," she emphasized 'MD' ".. is what our trial is using..."
"Oh, listen - I love this song! Charles, dance with me..." Angelique, smiled at the table, "Come on -enough politics, let's dance!"
Peter led Makemba to the floor. Twirling around him, Makemba glanced Carter's way, caught his eye, and gave him a slow, meaningful smile...
"They're playing our song, Carter" Debbie stood and proffered her hand to him, laughing, "or providing a nice out from that intense conversation...."
'You have no idea,' he mused. No idea whatsoever.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Ramblings:
I don't like Makemba Likasu. Don't like her one bit. She is beautiful, smart, self-possessed... Confident. Yup, a real head-turner. She is one dangerous cookie for my Carter/Abby hopes to bear. But ... tptb (and Carter) are determined to have her and so, I must acquiesce. But. I can make of her what I will, can't I? Oh, and I shall... I shall.....