Out of Sorts

Eight Weeks
September

"Uh, send her—send her up to CT—" Kerry said to whomever in the trauma room was listening as she pulled off her yellow gown, stripped herself of her gloves, and pushed through double doors, "I'll check in on her later."

"What's her deal?" Greg Pratt asked harshly once his supervisor was out of earshot.

Carter and Abby only shrugged, equally confused by Weaver's unceremonious exit but at least marginally more used to their boss' unpredictability.

Abby had been experiencing an uneasy feeling whenever she was around Kerry as of late; she had known the older woman for a couple years and had never seen her so tired, mentally slow, or so generally out of sorts. Part of her was convinced she was reading too far into things, but another part knew something wasn't quite right. The final part was telling her not to get wrapped up in it; she had her own problems to deal with.

Kerry was relieved to find the bathroom empty when she stepped in: she couldn't imagine anything more mortifying than vomiting in the presence of someone she either had treated or would be treating…except perhaps vomiting in the presence of one of her staff. She'd already dropped the empty progesterone shot while Susan and Abby were talking at the sinks a couple weeks ago, and she wasn't looking to give anything else for their gears to turn on.

After a long few moments spent painfully kneeling on the cold tile with what little food she'd consumed in the past twenty four hours making a reappearance from the depths of her stomach, Kerry managed to pull herself into a standing position. She was instantly dizzy, another reminder that she'd been expelling more than she'd been consuming and her blood sugar was probably a little too low. She took a few deep breaths—not so deep as to send her into another bout of vomiting, but deep enough—smoothed out her pants and lab coat, then unlocked the stall and exited.

"Kerry?"

Kerry nearly had to turn right back into the stall at the sight of Susan Lewis. Her grey eyes were narrowed and brow furrowed in the way they always were when she was concerned about something. Kerry wanted none of it, at least not at that moment.

Kerry collected herself quickly, silently ordering herself to calm down and get it together. "Susan." She nodded once in acknowledgement, stepping toward the sinks and, subsequently, the other doctor.

"Are you alright, Kerry?" Susan asked, her voice heavy with a unease that Kerry both appreciated and dreaded.

Kerry thought carefully about the response she was going to give Susan; it was still too early to tell anyone she was expecting, but between calling in sick for three of her past five shifts, the dropped syringe, and the current situation, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep the façade up much longer. At least, Kerry figured somewhat optimistically, if she absolutely had to tell someone, she wouldn't mind that person being Susan. Still, she wasn't sure if she was quite ready to break the news…she was excited to tell people, but her fear of the unknown was equally as tangible.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Yes." Kerry said, holding a few paper towels under the cold water. "Thank you." She said, her voice admittedly dismissive.

Susan didn't budge. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine." Kerry replied quickly.

"Everything isn't fine, Kerry—you've looked horrible for weeks, now. People are starting to notice, they're worried. I'm worried."

Kerry shook her head and smiled, "I'm pregnant, Susan."

Susan's expression morphed from a deep frown to a broad smile as she responded with a voice full of joy and excitement, "Kerry! Congratulations!" She laughed, "That is so great!"

Kerry felt a weight rise and disappear from her shoulders. She, too, smiled. "Thank you, thank you so much."

"I was so worried it was something else, something bad." Susan admitted, her smiling diminishing imperceptibly. They both knew what she meant: something bad, something irreversible, inoperable, and fatal, something like cancer. "When are you due?"

"Early May." Kerry said.

Quick mental math, as well as Kerry's apparent morning sickness and the absence of any visible baby bump, assured Susan that Kerry was only nine or ten weeks along. Understanding suddenly dawned on Susan; Kerry wasn't necessarily telling her because she was ready to, but rather because she had to. How else could she explain what had been going on the past couple months? Still, even if it was an obligatory announcement, Susan felt a little honored that Kerry had trusted her enough to tell her.

"That's great, Kerry." Susan repeated genuinely. "But you know, you really don't look so good. Do you think you should go home?"

Kerry's eyes narrowed slightly in consideration. "Oh, uh…I don't think that's necessary." She said tentatively. "I'll be fine."

Susan looked at Kerry skeptically. She knew Kerry was stubborn, but she also knew she looked, and probably felt, like shit. If she were a patient and didn't know Kerry was pregnant, she'd probably have some serious reservations about being treated by her. "Okay, well if you change your mind just let me know—I'll be happy to find someone to cover the rest of your shift."

Kerry nodded. "Thanks, Susan."

The blonde smiled and headed for the door to give Kerry another moment to herself. She was approaching the curtain areas when she heard Kerry coming up behind her, the telltale sound of rubber clicking on tile a dead giveaway. Preemptively, Susan turned around.

"Uh, I actually…I think I am going to head home." Kerry said. "Only if you're sure—"

"—I'm sure, Kerry." Susan confirmed. "Go home and get some rest."

Kerry gave her a small, appreciative nod. She was proceeding to the lounge when she turned back to face Susan. "Oh, and Susan?"

The blonde raised her eyebrows.

"You'll keep this between us, right? For now at least…"

Susan nodded, smiled, and waved her hand. "Go take care of yourself, Kerry."

"Carter, I need you to stick around through the shift change tonight."

The chief resident spun around in the chair that sat at the admit desk and looked at Susan with confusion. "I thought Weaver was covering it? She's on until seven, isn't she?"

Susan nodded as she moved about the admit area, picking up another chart and signing her initials next to the patient's name on the board. She was about to move away from the transparent board when she thought to remove Kerry's initials and replace them with her own. "Yeah, but now I need you to cover."

Unsatisfied, John pushed for more information. "Why isn't Weaver staying?"

Susan sighed exasperatedly. "Because she's going home, John."

"Again?" John asked, his voice and expression suddenly soft with worry. "Is she okay?"

"Just cover her last two hours, okay?" Susan asked in a way that suggested to John that the only correct answer was 'yes.'

Still, he nodded and hopped off his seat, grabbed a chart, and went off in search of his med student.

"Where's Kerry?" Luka asked once Carter had finished signing out his and Kerry's patients.

"She left early."

"Oh," Luka paused, "is she okay?"

The resident gave the older doctor a wry smile, "Do you think she'd tell us if she wasn't?"

Luka gave a knowing nod. Carter was right that Kerry probably wouldn't tell anyone if she was ill, but it wasn't clear if anyone had actually asked. That wasn't really his problem, though. "Have a good night, Carter."

The younger man waved over his head as he went to the lounge. What he hadn't told Luka was that he'd been worrying about Kerry all afternoon. He was almost positive that, up until this year, Kerry had only called out sick two or maybe three times. While some of the staff on the floor had a penchant for staying home at the first sign of any illness, Carter knew that Kerry worked until she absolutely couldn't. That was why he'd been increasingly concerned about her as of late: she had missed an entire week a month or so ago and it seemed like she had called out for more shifts than she'd worked in the last couple weeks. He knew that not because he was keeping tabs on her—he knew better—but because he'd been called in to work a couple of them. It was a tangible effort to not guess what might be afflicting her, but he tried his hardest to keep his worries at bay; it wasn't his or anyone else's business until Kerry wanted it to be.