The Victims Game
Part Ten - the Road
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMERS:  Hi. We've got some legal stuff to wade through before we can jump into things. Mostly the usual prerequisite jazz: ER and all related characters are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions, and Amblin Entertainment Television, a bunch of really swell, understanding guys who won't sue me if I mention that the aforementioned characters and institutions are being used without their permission, but only for entertainment purposes, and that no form of profit is being made on this work. For the benefit of the content-conscious amongst you, I'll assure you that there's nothing here that you couldn't see on the show, anyway. Except maybe some language, I'm not sure yet. Depends what kind of day I'm having as I write. Beyond that, I make no promises about what's in store. Could be silly, could be scary, could be sexy, could be sad. I'm not telling. Come on, live dangerously...

"Let me ask you something, Daniel," Kerry said to me an hour later, "Why do I always end up cold and wet whenever you come to town?"

I recognized a rhetorical question when I heard one. Actually, it was as much as she'd said to me since we started walking.

With no real idea where we were, it came down to a choice of following the road on foot, either forward or backward. We had chosen backward, for two reasons. First, we knew there was a gas station somewhere behind us, whereas the road ahead could run for hundreds of empty miles for all we knew. Second, Broken Nose had been driving forward, and we couldn't be certain he wouldn't double back, perhaps with reinforcements. I was still carrying the Glock pistol in my hand, keeping an ear out for cars, just in case. I hadn't been able to figure out why the gun didn't fire, but maybe Broken Nose wouldn't know that.

On a sunny day, it might have been a nice walk in the country, but the fog kept us damp and chilled. Plus, my back was stiffening up from impacting the windshield, and Kerry had spent hours stuffed in a trunk. Even at her best, I doubted she was up to hiking over extended distances. I didn't offer her any help, knowing full well that she would refuse out of pride. I figured I'd leave her alone until she was on the point of collapse, and then carry her from there, if necessary.

We trudged wearily along in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of hours. Kerry kept her eyes straight ahead. I was probably the last person she really wanted to spend time with right now, after all that had befallen her on my account. That was understandable, but even so, the silent treatment was really beginning to eat at me. After several miles, I began talking, just to try to break the ice.

I said, "Man walks into a doctor's office, says 'Doctor, I'm feeling very depressed-' "

"Heard it," she said.

"Okay. Man walks into a doctor's office, says 'Doctor, I think I'm a chicken-' "

"Heard it," she said.

"Okay. Man walks into a doctor's office, says, 'Doctor, I can't tell you how sorry I am for being responsible for you losing your job. I know I can't undo what I've done, but I really wish you'd talk to me about it, maybe yell or scream at me, or tell me you hate me for it, or something, 'cause I've never felt so ashamed of anything I've done in ten years of private investigation, and believe me, that's saying a mouthful'."

"Heard it," she said.

"Aw, Kerry, for God's sake-" I stopped walking and talking, letting her pull ahead, and then I said, "Wait a second, is this stage two?"

That stopped her. "What...?"

"Stage two. Of Weaver's Revenge, right? Did you set up this whole situation, just to torture me?"

Kerry gave me a look of true incredulity. "Are you completely and utterly insane?" she asked.

I gave her the Michael Keaton smile. "Just kidding. Got your attention, though, right?"

She shook her head, with a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you? expression. She started to walk again, but then she turned back and faced me. "All right, you want to absolve your conscience, Daniel?"

"Oh, yes, please..."

"Why don't you start by talking about that woman whose privacy you invaded? The Councilman's wife?"

"Huh...?" Oh yeah, Councilman Bob's wife, Patricia. I never did finish telling her that story. "You really want to talk about that
now?"

"Yes, I do."

"All right. Where did I leave off...?" We started walking again.

"You followed her and videotaped her being intimate with another woman, and then gave the tape to her manipulative husband, I believe."

"Okay, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I did that, but there were a couple of other details between those events."

"Such as?"

"Such as, I was feeling bad about the whole deal, and I wanted to kind of do some damage control. To that end, I followed Leila around for a while..."

"Leila was Patricia's girlfriend? The physical trainer?"

"Right. I wanted to find out what kind of person she was before I dragged her into the whole mess. As it turned out, Patricia wasn't the only little peccadillo she was involved in."

"Leila had another lover?"

"Uh-huh. A male one, this time, for variety." I gave it a beat. "And guess which male?"

Kerry thought about it, and came to the logical conclusion, given the context. "The Councilman?!"

"Yup. Mr. Family Values himself, Councilman Bob."

"You're kidding! Of all the sleazy, hypocritical...! He's trying to blackmail his wife for cheating on him, and all the while he's cheating on her?!"

"A dishonest politician, imagine that..."

"I know, but...so, the husband and wife were both having an affair with the same woman?"

"And neither one knew it. Kinda like a smutty variation on O. Henry, huh?"

You could see that Kerry was hooked now, despite herself. "Did Leila know she was seeing both halves of a married couple?"

"I don't think so. The impression I got was that she was just an open-minded, fun-loving young woman with no idea that either of her lovers was married, let alone to each other."

She shook her head again. "So, you saw Leila with the Councilman. What happened then?"

"Well, then she took off her-"

"DANiel..."

"Sorry. So I saw Councilman Bob two-timing his wife, and you know what's the first thing I thought? 'Oh, gee, look at all that extra blank videotape I've got left over in the camcorder. Be a shame to waste it...' "

"You didn't!"

"Damn right, I did."

A smile was creeping onto her face, spreading involuntarily. "Oh, that's just plain low, Daniel. That's dirty, and underhanded and cruel..."

"And you love it."

"And I love it!" Her spirits had improved. "So he couldn't use the tape to blackmail his wife, or he'd be exposing his own infidelity in the process..."

"And sayonara, senatorial race," I said. "It's the Public Relations equivalent of Mutually Assured Destruction."

"Marital détente. I like it."

"You would have enjoyed the scene when I gave Bob the tape. We met in his den, the next day, so I could give him my final report, along with the tape. The bastard actually made his wife come into the den and watch us conclude our business. Sort of lording it over her, rubbing it in her face."

"Charming."

"Then he insisted that we watch the tape together. She was mortified, of course, but he had this smile that made me want to go home and wash. Once he saw who his wife was with, though, it was a genuine pleasure to watch his smile melt away."

"You're right, I wish I could have seen that."

"Oh, that was nothing compared to his shock when he saw himself on tape. I don't know which of them was more outraged: Patricia at Bob for hiring me to get the goods on her, or Bob at me for getting them on him, too."

"Did it seem like either of them was bothered by the actual infidelities? Or was it all merely a struggle for the upper hand?"

"Nah, they just wanted to be able to out-smear each other. Family values, huh?"

"So, you just left the two of them in their own homemade purgatory?"

"Almost. I mean, I suppose I could have walked away and left things like that. But, in an effort to be constructive, I pointed out that they had a choice."

"Which was?"

"They could go public with the tape, which would ruin both his political career and her social standing in one fell swoop, while giving neither one an advantage in a divorce court. Or, they could burn the tape, invite the lovely Leila to move in with them, and be one big happy family, defining the term a little more broadly for the coming Millennium."

"Oh, that'll go over big..."

"Just think of the support he'd get from the alternative lifestyle voters, I told them. Just trying to help."

"What did they say?"

"Well, Councilman Bob handed me a check for what he owed me, and bade me a stony goodbye. Patricia told me to go to hell. I took his check, but I liked her honesty better."

She laughed. "You think they'll take your advice?"

"God, I hope not. I don't want a creep like Bob in the Senate. Besides, while shallow jerks like Bob and Patricia probably deserve each other, I figure Leila could do a lot better."

Kerry was smiling at me in a way I hadn't expected to see again. "I have to hand it to you, Daniel. Every time I think you're a completely irresponsible flake, you manage to...well, pull a fast one, I guess."

"Yeah..." I looked around, at our current circumstances. "Not this time, though. I've really screwed up big time on this one, haven't I?"

The smile faded. "Daniel, about that...I wanted to-"

She broke off, looking behind us, and then I heard a car approaching. I tightened my grip on the gun, in case it was the bad guys again, but then I saw it was a Toyota minivan. Looked like a family on a road trip.

"Okay, here we go," Kerry said, sticking out her thumb in the classic hitchhiker's pose. She didn't try the Claudette Colbert method.

The minivan slowed obligingly, easing over to our side of the road, but then I saw the eyes of the driver widen in fear, and the minivan accelerated sharply. It shot past us and zoomed away.

"Hey, hey, HEY...!" Kerry yelled after it, "Thanks for nothing!"

"I think we scared him off," I said.

"Oh, yeah, the CRIPPLED WOMAN'S REAL DANGEROUS, PAL!!" she hollered at the retreating vehicle.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use the 'C-word'."

Kerry spun on me. "I'M allowed to use the 'C-word'! You're not!"

"Oh, right. You're entitled, because you're..."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm 'C-worded'." She was trying to be stern, but the giggles were fighting their way to the surface. That happens when you've been stressed out for a long time.

"Actually," I said, holding up the gun, "I meant I think he saw me carrying this, and that, uh..." I tucked the gun into my belt, more than a little embarrassed.

"Oh. Great work, Daniel. They probably thought we were Bonnie and Clyde."

I cupped my hand over my mouth like a police radio and did the Dan Aykroyd voice. "Attention all units: be on the lookout for two suspicious characters. Suspects are armed, dangerous, and partially disabled."

"Right, like the song. 'You got a gun, I got a crutch, we'll go down to the crawdad... hutch?' No, never mind, that doesn't really work." More giggles.

"Wow, are we getting goofy, or what?"

"Yes, we are, in fact, getting extremely 'what'."

"Well, a sense of humor's healthy in jobs like ours..."

"I'm out of a job, remember?" she said, laughing out loud, now, "I'll be lucky if I don't lose my license to practice medicine after this debacle."

Ow. Massive, gut-wrenching stab of guilt at that thought. Trying to remain upbeat, I said, "Come on, there's plenty of things someone like you could do. You could be a short order cook..."

"Longshoreman," she said, "Or longshorewoman..."

"Window washer..." I said.

"Rodeo clown..."

"Stripper. Excuse me, I mean exotic dancer..."

"Or maybe I'll just move out to LA and be the secretary/receptionist for Wintergreen Investigations..."

"Well, okay, but only if you promise to always answer the phone in your Betty Boop voice."

"Stop, stop, stop, my head hurts when I laugh," she said, putting a hand to her head.

I turned serious at once. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I just hit my head when you made the car stop. The trunk wasn't designed for passengers. I'm fine, though, really."

I took her arm. "Are you dizzy? Do you need to sit down?"

"I said I'm fine! I'd know if I had a concussion, all right?" she insisted, irritably pushing my hand away. "I'm the doctor, remember? At least, I was..."

I couldn't say anything to that.

She took my hand, her mood changing abruptly. "How did this happen, Daniel?" she asked, a note of despair in her voice, "We were having a nice dinner less than twenty-four hours ago, and now everything is..." She trailed off.

I realized that, in addition to the geographical distance we had covered, we were also passing through the different strata of stress reactions, each layer a different emotion. How many licks did it take to get to the metaphorical center of a psychological Tootsie Pop?

It might have just been another level of reaction, but there was a fleeting moment when I thought that a little something sparked between us. Something warm and familiar and very intimate...

Then my eyes fell on my own name, 'F O X', scrawled in ugly black letters across Kerry's forehead, like a tattoo, and the spark vanished in a sea of guilt. It was as if my actions had branded her in some way. She felt me subtly pulling back, and let go of my hand, self-consciously.

"Kerry, I'm honestly so sorry about what I've done to you," I said. "I promise you, I would never have given those signed forms to anyone if I thought for a moment they could be used against you or Carol Hathaway, or anyone at County..."

"Daniel, frankly, it wouldn't matter if you gave those names to Queen Victoria," she said, "The fact remains that something illegal was going on. Those computer files were deliberately altered, and the clinic's money was missing. I don't believe Carol was behind it, and I can't conceive how it happened, but you didn't cause that to happen."

"No, I just gave them what they needed to expose it."

"And what do you think would have happened if you hadn't? If you'd refused to do the job for them?"

"Well..."

"They'd have just gotten someone else to do it. With my luck, it would have been someone like Sam Broder..."

"Who?"

"Another investigator I used, once. He was supposed to locate my birth mother, and he made a complete mess of it."

Kerry Weaver was adopted? Nearly half of what I knew about her was suddenly explained.

"At least you had the conscience to try and correct things," she added.

And my efforts nearly got you killed, I thought, but I couldn't voice the concern.

Kerry continued walking again. "As for my job," she went on, "maybe this is the world's way of telling me that it's time for a whole new direction. Or maybe County was a dead end for me. I was never able to accomplish much of anything there. I'm so tired of fighting with everyone that I'm supposed to be working with, and not getting anywhere. It's like a pie-eating contest, where the first prize is more pie."

I nodded and didn't interrupt her.

"All I ever wanted was to do was practice medicine, and to make it easier for all of us to do the same. Forget it, it's been one steady swim upstream. I mean, forget increased efficiency in the clerical system, forget improved patient care, forget refining medical science or upgrading staff benefits, or any of that crap. Nobody else cares anymore, why should I?"

I stayed quiet and let her vent.

"To hell with the funding, the manpower, all of it," she went on, more to herself than me, "You know, let's just close down the whole goddamn hospital and turn it into a mini-mall with a Starbucks and a multiplex full of Adam Sandler movies. Let's abandon the studies and the research and the education, and just go back to leeches and poultices. Or better yet, forget medical care altogether, and let the whole human race just expire, face down in a puddle of its own vomit, while we're at it! If it's good enough for the dinosaurs, it's good enough for me!"

We walked in silence for a ways. Then I said, "You through bitching?"

"Yeah, I'm through bitching."

I squeezed her shoulder. "You don't mean any of that."

No response.

Squeezed harder. "Kerry. You know you don't."

A little nod. "Yeah, I know."

I let my hand drop, relieved. You dig down deep enough, either a person's spirit is intact or it isn't. To see someone with her conviction and integrity fall prey to the entropic forces of despair would break my heart.

WHEEEOOOP!! I had been so concerned with Kerry's emotional state that I hadn't heard the highway patrol car creeping up behind us. The little burst from their siren made us jump as we turned to face the cruiser.

"Oh, thank God, we're saved," Kerry said. Then, as two state troopers in tan uniforms and Smokey the Bear hats got out of the car, hands on their holsters, she added, "Why are they looking at us like that?"

"Because they're wondering about that 'armed hitchhiker' report phoned in by the family in the Toyota." I held my hands out away from my body, palms open, fingers spread. Keeping my hands well away from my belt. Kerry did the same.

"Hi," I called, giving them the Tommy Lee Jones smile, "Are you ready for an incredible story?"

They stared back at us, impassive behind those mirrored shades, worn for precisely that reason.

"Yes, that is a gun in my belt," I added, "and yes, I am happy to see you."



"I don't know how to thank you guys!"
--- Fozzie Bear, 'The Muppet Movie'
"I don't know WHY to thank you guys..."
--- Kermit the Frog, Ibid