Hallucinations
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: f/f Slash
SPOILERS: Yes, for Season 7. Story takes place shortly before the season premiere (but after the opening sequence in Atlanta)
RATING: NC-17

DISCLAIMER: All "ER" characters and institutions are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions and Amblin Television. This is written strictly for entertainment value, no infringement of copyright or ownership is intended, and nobody is making a profit on this piece. As always, any errors in continuity, characterization, or common sense are entirely my own fault.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Scotty Says:
Don't even ask me where the inspiration for this one came from. I'm stumped. Once again, if you don't like f/f slash, DON'T READ! SEND ALL COMMENTS (positive or negative) to scottjwelles@yahoo.com

"Tell me about the dream."

"Okay, here goes...



Long hours don't bother me; I can always find something to do. Mine is a meticulous, analytical mind. Organization and preparation are not work to me, they are an autonomic process, like respiration or digestion. Taking inventory is a meditation, not a chore...

Someone behind me asks what I'm doing. I don't have to look back to see who it is; I know the voice. I knows every voice I've ever heard. It's a variant on the photographic memory...

I reply that I'm just taking inventory. The patients are few, and the hours aren't. Everyone needs a way to pass the time. Unless new patients have arrived...?

The tall woman in the doorway tells me not to worry, they haven't. She was just making conversation...

I should be satisfied at that, but I'm not. I've never seen her indulge in idle chatter with anyone before. If she has business with you, she says so. Otherwise, she leaves you alone...

I want to turn back to the task at hand, but I don't want to be rude, and she's still standing there in the doorway, leaning casually against the jamb. All six-foot-something of her, without an ounce of fat anywhere. I've never seen her lean or slouch, either. She's either standing tall, or moving...

What does she want...?



"So you're at work when this dream takes place?"

"Yes. Down in the ER. At least I think that's where the room is. It's got cabinets and cupboards like the drug lockup, or the supply room, maybe. But it feels like the ER."

"Do you feel comfortable when you're working?"

"I feel...purposeful. Active. I like getting things done."

"Mmm. Do you have an active social life outside your work?"

"Well, yeah, I've got friends, and family and all that. I'm not a workaholic, I mean I don't feel incomplete unless I'm working. Why do you ask?"

"The setting of the dream might be an indication of its meaning. Please, go on."



She's making me nervous, staring at me without saying anything, like she knows something I don't. I wish she'd either say something or go away. I ask if she needs anything...?

No, she doesn't...

Does she want to help me, I ask, meaning the inventory...?

There's a smile on her face. She doesn't smile often, and when she does, it's reserved and noncommittal. But she's definitely smiling at me...

She pushes easily away from the doorjamb and walks slowly toward me. Beneath her lab coat and skirt, her legs are flawless. They are impossibly long and slim and smooth. I've got good legs, but hers are the flawless legs of a mannequin brought to life...

Yes, she says as she approaches me, she is here to help me. And as she puts her arms around my shoulders, I begin to tremble with anticipation...



"The woman seems to be one of your co-workers, then? That is, a member of the hospital staff?"

"Yes, I know exactly who it is."

"Oh, so you do know her name?"

"Uh-huh.



Cleo...?

Her lips on mine silence my question. It's a gentle, soothing kiss, and I respond involuntarily. I kiss her back, enjoying the taste of her mouth, the motions of her tongue, the feel of her arms around me...

When we pull apart, her face is radiant, a sight I've never seen. She is aglow with something I'd call love if I saw it on anyone else. But Cleo's face is always cool, often hard. Not like this. I don't understand...

I'm so happy for you, she whispers to me...



"What is she happy about?"

"Hell if I know! I don't think I've ever exchanged four words with her that weren't directly related to one patient or another."

"You're not close to her, then?"

"I don't know if anyone is close to Cleo Finch. She doesn't seem to be interested in making friends with anyone else at work, and I don't know what she does off the clock. Probably two hours of calisthenics, followed by two more of weight training and two of aerobics."

"Physical fitness is a passion of hers?"

"What's beyond passion? Obsession? Compulsion? I mean, I like to keep fit, like anyone else, but she's like the Energizer Bunny. Just not pink and fuzzy."



Her touch is strong, yet soft at the same time. I can't push her away. I don't want to push her away...

She runs a hand lightly down the length of my body, and the seams of my clothes dissolve under her touch, melting away like cotton candy. Scraps of cloth fall like flower petals, baring my skin. I shiver, but not from cold. I am afraid...

Afraid of what, she asks me, as though I had spoken...?

I tell her I'm afraid someone will see me naked, I tell her. But that's not the real reason...



"Is this making any sense so far? Or am I just babbling on?"

"Perhaps it is. Being naked in a public place is a common theme in many people's dreams."

"Yeah, I know, it represents public insecurity, or fear of discovery, or whatever. But I don't have anything to be insecure about. My residency's going great, I'm in the running for Chief next year. I don't have any deep, dark secrets to hide. Or if I do, they're a secret to me, too."

"Perhaps there's something you're not consciously aware of."

"Like what? I'm gay and I don't know it?"

"Not necessarily."



Cleo spreads her lab coat like a cape and embraces me, wrapping her coat around me, the way my mother used to do when I was very young. I press against her for warmth, and I can feel that she is also nude beneath her coat. Her skin is hot against mine, the way a steaming mug of coffee is hot against my hands. Not a painful heat, but a sensuous one...

It's all right, she tells me. They'll know soon enough. And she kisses me again...

I return her embrace, holding her body close against mine. I don't know why this is happening, I only know it's going to happen no matter what I do. And I want more...



"I'm not interested in women, period. I don't think there's anything wrong with it, it just doesn't appeal to me. Men do. Besides, if I was going to experiment with a woman, even in my dreams, why wouldn't it be someone I like? My friend Nancy, maybe, she's cute."

"You don't like Cleo?"

"Well, I don't dislike her, I barely even know her. It's not like we hate each other or anything."

"How do the two of you get along?"

"We get along fine when we end up working together, but otherwise, we don't encounter each other much at all. She's off doing her thing, and I'm off doing mine... um, can I have some water?"

"Of course. Help yourself. Are you all right?"

"My stomach's been a little funny lately."



Her hands explore my body, and tension melts away, muscles relaxing, yielding to her slightest touch. Our mouths have an endless thirst for each other, we cannot drink our fill...

Even in the midst of my desire, I know this is unlike me. I don't love Cleo Finch, I don't sleep with women...

That doesn't matter now. I need...



"Tell me more about Cleo. What other qualities can you describe about her?"

"That's...that's a tough one. She doesn't seem to show a lot of emotion, so it's really hard to get a handle on her personality. Except..."

"Except what?"

"I was going to say, except when she's with kids. I've helped her with pediatric patients a couple of times, and she's pretty good with them. It's the closest I've seen her to being really likable."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We had this girl last week, fifteen years old and already giving birth. Scared as hell, of course, but Cleo talked her through it. You should have seen her encouraging this girl, reassuring her. 'You're doing beautiful, honey, you can do this...' Like that."

"I see."

"See what? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. I was just noticing that you were smiling while you described Cleo helping the pregnant girl."

"So I smiled, so what? I approved of her manner with a patient! Does that mean I've got a thing for her?"

"You tell me."



Her hands slide down my back, to my hips, and lift me off the floor. She holds me easily, pulling my legs up around her waist as she continues to kiss my neck. I feel the edge of a countertop beneath my buttocks as she sets me there, freeing her hands. They glide over my chest and stomach, cutting a pleasurable swath through my nerve endings. The tones of her skin against mine are rich and lovely. Brown on gold, cocoa and honey...



"I am NOT a lesbian, okay?!"

"I wasn't implying..."

"My debutante days are all the 'coming out' I plan to do in this lifetime!"

"Calm down, please..."

"I don't have any issues with my sexuality. I enjoy men, I've never had a problem with that. My sex life has always been great... and I have no attraction to any woman, least of all Cleo fucking Finch!"

"I don't think you do, either."

"You don't?"

"No. We've worked together long enough that I think any sexual identity issues would have come up in an earlier session."

"Great. So then why does she keep trying to fuck me in my dreams?"



My breasts seem to swell as she runs her tongue over them. The nipples stiffen even more under her fingertips. Only one man has excited me this much before...



"I'm sorry for yelling. This just frustrates me so much. My dreams are usually very clear and straightforward. I mean, it's easy enough to figure out what they're trying to tell me. But this one..."

"I'd noticed that about you. Whenever we talk about your dreams, you seem to discern their meaning with very little need for my help."

"Right. Like the one last autumn that I told you about? And I was certain it had to do with my father's health?"

"And did anything come of that?"

"Yeah, that was right before he told us about his heart condition. I knew he was having trouble."

"I've also noticed that the dreams that affect you most strongly seem to be about your parents, either about their influence in your life, or their reaction to it."

"God, I can't imagine how my parents would react if they knew I was having sex dreams about a woman. Not even a Chinese woman, for that matter!"



She kisses and licks her way over my abdomen, as if worshipping at a shrine. Something is concentrating within me, and I realize Cleo is not causing it. She is reacting to it, taking part in it. It's something beyond my control, but it is because of me, not her...

You're doing beautifully, she tells me...



"Would the fact that she's not Chinese matter to them more than her gender?"

"I don't know, the issue of gender's never come up between us. But I know they want me to marry a Chinese man. They're very traditional in that way."

"Cleo's not Chinese, I take it?"

"No, she's African-American. Maybe they wouldn't mind me seeing a white boyfriend, but a black one? God, if they ever found out..."

"Is there anything for them to find out? I don't mean about Cleo, or a woman."



The counter beneath me has re-contoured itself, and I recline easily on it. My legs are elevated, held as though by invisible hands, as strong and as gentle as Cleo's...

She spreads my thighs with her hands...

I know the time is near...

Time for what...?

We can do this, she says as she brings her mouth down to me, opening me gently...

And it begins...



"Well...I did have an affair with a black man recently..."

"Was this before the dreams began?"

"Yeah, a few weeks before. We met in the ER, he was a patient at the time. Dr. Greene introduced us, and I asked him out and we started seeing each other..."

"Tell me about him."

"He's a nurse...a MALE nurse, obviously...he's black, like I said, and very physical. I mean, he's got to work out a lot, 'cause he's got a body that would stop traffic."

"Hmm. Not unlike Cleo."

"Well, it...what do you mean?"



Her tongue penetrates me, and waves of fire crash within me. Her expression is loving, even rapturous...



"Did your affair end badly?"

"No, we just grew apart. We both knew, going in, that it wasn't going to be anything serious. Just a casual relationship, which was all we were looking for."



I clutch at her head, trying to pull her inside me. My spine arches as a cry is ripped from my throat...

I am helpless to alter the outcome. I am only a vessel for what is occurring...



"We just wanted to have a good time together, and the sex was always terrific, but...the last time, especially..."

"What was the last time like?"



Exploding within me... Consuming and yet nurturing...

I can't make it stop. I don't want it to stop...

It's almost here, Cleo tells me...



"It was...imagine the best you could hope for, and it's all that, but there's something more. Something you can't describe, because you've barely caught sight of it. Like the logical walls of the universe parted, and you had just a glimpse of something magical behind them...oh, I don't know what I'm talking about."

"I think you do."



I don't know what's happening, or what part Cleo plays in it, and I am terrified by what I can't understand. And yet, I am almost in love with it at the same time...

Her movements are graceful, delicate, soft, yet precise and accurate. She is taking me where I must go...

The climax builds inside me...



"So what's Cleo Finch got to do with it?"

"I don't think the real Cleo has any significance. I think she represents some aspect of yourself that you know about, but haven't yet recognized."



Sweet agony...immense pleasure...overwhelming...



"What part of myself would choose Cleo for an image?"

"I don't know. But consider her role in your dream."



Her hands, her mouth, her skin, all bringing it out of me...



"She's black and athletic, like your lover. She seduces you in your place of work, where you met him..."



It is something far bigger than I am, yet it cannot exist without me...

Please, I have to... I'm so scared...



"So you think I'm not over Frank?"

"Perhaps, but I think it's more than that."



Older than time, yet newer than a fleeting moment...

Oh, God... I can't... Yes, I can...



"She undresses you in public, so there's a likelihood that your secret is on the verge of discovery..."

"What secret, dammit?!"



I want... please, yes...

You're almost there, Cleo whispers. I'm so happy for you...



"A pediatrician knows something about you, and she's happy for you."

"Cleo? She's only happy when she's with...oh..."



It's time. Now...

It reaches fruition, deep inside, then erupts to the surface, turning me inside out...



"Oh my god, you don't think..."



I scream...

Ohhhh...



Jing-Mei awoke sharply, feeling the shattering suddenness of the orgasm. Her hand, moving unconsciously between her legs, was slick with moisture, and the power of her recurring dream was almost overwhelming.

She sat up in bed, alone in the dark room. It was still night out, and a glance at the clock told her that her alarm wasn't due to awaken her for another hour or more. But she knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep. The dream was more vivid than ever, and after her last session with her therapist, she had a growing suspicion why.

She rubbed her belly through the sweat-soaked tee shirt she wore to bed. "Frank...?"

And then she was certain.

She barely made it to the toilet before the morning sickness struck.




"My love for you is like this scar: ugly, but permanent."
--- Grace Adler