Healing Wolves
Part Thirteen - Epilogue
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

ER and all related characters are the property of Warner Bros., Amblin Entertainment, and ConstantC productions, used here without permission. This story has been written entirely for entertainment value. No copyright infringement is intended, and no form of profit is being made on this work. Any errors in continuity, characterization, or common sense may be blamed entirely on me. Sorry. If this hasn't given you eyestrain already, read on.



Almost four weeks later, Kerry Weaver and I were standing on the edge of the cliffs at Pacific Palisades in Santa Monica, looking out over Pacific Coast Highway and the great, blue Pacific Ocean beyond. The largest reference point on the face of the Earth. We had just returned from a short trip on a chartered boat to the island of Catalina. Before she died, Glory Rossili had told Kerry that she wanted her ashes scattered there.

Leaning against the concrete railing, Kerry regarded the ocean and the beaches quietly. She wore a conservative dark gray dress and shoes with low heels, and she was using the cane I had seen in her closet. Her hair had grown out a bit, and she looked older, but healthy. I stood by her, wearing my good suit, the one that makes me look like a yuppie lawyer, and didn't interrupt her thoughts.

"I wanted to thank you for doing this with me, Daniel," she said, after a while. "I didn't want anyone from Chicago to accompany me, but I'm glad I didn't do this alone."

"Why not anyone from Chicago?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I have too much of a reputation to maintain, there. Besides, none of them knew Glory, and you did. At least briefly."

I nodded. Privately, I thought Kerry was closing herself off from a lot of healing support, but that was her choice.

"I know what you must have thought of Glory," Kerry said, a trace of bitterness entering her voice, "But you didn't know her the way I did."

I said, "What did I think of her?"

"That she was reckless and foolish and irresponsible," she said. She was voicing her own thoughts, more than mine. "She participated in a stupid, vicious, senseless crime, and four people died as a result."

Actually, six people, all told, but I didn't mention that.

Kerry shook her head. "What possessed her? What could she have been thinking?" How could I have been so wrong about her, she meant.

"You're right," I said, "she was all that. And she did make the worst possible choice. But she was also your good friend. Neither of those facts changes or negates the other. If she took the wrong path, it is not a reflection on you."

She looked out at the ocean again.

"You're not responsible for her mistakes. And you did everything you could to save her. You went farther for her than most people will go for anyone in their entire lives. You can be proud of that."

Kerry listened without reply. Then, after a while, she said, "Getting into that van wasn't the most foolish thing I've ever done in my life."

I waited. Like Jeannie Boulet, she'd tell me or she wouldn't.

"When I was eighteen years old, I put the barrel of a thirty-two caliber revolver in my mouth and cocked the hammer. The reasons aren't important anymore. But I genuinely meant to pull the trigger."

"Glory stopped you," I said.

She nodded. "Yes. That's how we met. She talked me out of it, and no one has ever learned of it until now." Kerry wiped her eyes. "Glory made me her friend. She wouldn't let me blame myself. Even when I screamed at her to get out of my life, she stood up for me."

"Like you stood up for Jeannie Boulet."

She shook her head. "No, it's not the same. I treasure Jeannie, I really do. But I haven't been nearly good enough to her to equal what Glory did for me. I often think I haven't been very good to anyone."

We were quiet for a while. I was thinking about Jeannie Boulet and Mark Greene and John Carter and the others at County General who might disagree with her. I hadn't heard from any of them since leaving Chicago...unless you count the four-foot Thank You card that was delivered to my office, signed by the entire ER staff. It was accompanied by twenty-one brightly colored mylar balloons, which had lost their helium and were now drifting around on the office floor. It made the inflatable Godzilla look like he was stomping through metallic clouds.

I put a hand on Kerry's back. "Can I offer you a piece of constructive criticism?"

She sniffled, but nodded.

I said, "I think you are an amazing person."

When I didn't add anything, she looked at me. "How is that a criticism?" she said.

"Oh, did I say criticism? I'm sorry, I meant brainless flattery." I crossed my eyes and knuckled my skull. "I always get those two mixed up."

She gaped at me for a moment, then gave up and laughed, her shoulders shaking. How about that? I finally made Kerry Weaver laugh.

She said, "You may well be the weirdest person I've ever met," but she smiled when she said it.

I said, "Listen, Richard Wintergreen asked me to extend his regards to you."

"How is he?"

I shook my head. "He hasn't been looking well to me, lately," I said, "I think he's really starting to feel his age."

Kerry nodded, sympathetically.

"We were going to have dinner at his house," I added, "He always cooks something terrific when we finish a job. When he thinks I've done particularly good work, he throws in a bottle of champagne. I'm sure he'd love to see you, if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight?"

Kerry looked at me warily. "I'm not going to have another unexpected birthday, am I?"

"Nah, I think you're safe."

"All right, then, I'd like that. Thank you." I felt her smile clear down to my toes.

As we were driving into the hills, towards Richard Wintergreen's house, Kerry said to me, out of nowhere, "What was that cure you mentioned? For the common megrims?"

I smiled. "When Life gets you down, do something grandly absurd."

"Or absurdly grand?"

"Right. Whichever."

She thought about it. "And I am pretty far from home and everyone I know," she mused.

"Uh-huh."

Kerry nodded to herself. "All right, then. If you'll promise never, EVER to reveal what you're about to see, I'm going to do something completely uncharacteristic."

"Okay..." I said, wondering what I was getting into.

"For Glory's sake," she said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and sort of pulled herself up until she was almost sitting on her headrest. I eased up on the gas, wondering if she was going to throw herself out of the car. Instead, Kerry Weaver put her arms out, feeling the summery wind washing over her, and then she threw her head back and howled like a wolf.

I kept an eye out for California Highway Patrol all the way home.