TITLE: HAZARDOUS, part II of II
AUTHOR: Scott J. Welles
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: f/f Slash
SPOILERS: Very definite ones. Takes place almost immediately after "Partly
Cloudy..."
RATING: NC-17. Even more so than my usual.
SUMMARY: What do you do after you've just become a hero? Claim "a hero's
reward," of course!
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:
This one may be jumping the gun, since we still know very little about
the new gal; we don't even know quite what she looks like under all that
gear. So I made something up. We'll see how accurate I end up being.
Besides, this one seemed like a good opportunity to turn my usual Kerryfic
formula on its head... (I mean it, folks, in some ways this one's almost
the exact opposite of what I usually do!)
Further note: my Spanish is iffy, so feel free to correct me on some of
it.
As usual, DON'T READ if you're offended by f/f slash, but I hope you'll
enjoy this anyway!
SEND ALL COMMENTS (positive or negative) to scottjwelles@yahoo.com



Hazardous, by Scott J. Welles


Part Two...

Kerry awoke in her own bed, clean sheets sliding over her bare skin as she
stretched. It was still dark, except for the light from the hallway.

As the drowsy blur focused into higher awareness, she wondered how she'd
gotten here. The last thing she remembered was coming home after that
intense, terrifying ordeal in the ambulance, with the rain and the
electricity, and Gallant helping her perform a field-emergent C-section...
And that firefighter who...

Oh, wait...

"You're up, huh?"

Kerry rolled over.

Leaning in the doorway, obviously having just entered the bedroom, the
cowgirl wore nothing but her own shirt, red as the painted desert. It was
buttoned only at the level of her groin, several buttons missing, and the
long stretch of her sternum and belly was exposed. Her breasts were
covered, but if she turned sharply, that might change. Below the
shirttails, her long legs were bare. Her hair looked glossy and dark, as
though just washed, and her skin held the kind of luster that comes only
from physical and emotional satisfaction. The bandage still covered one
hand, and steam rose from a coffee cup in the other. "Hope you don't mind,"
she said, lifting the cup, "but I made myself some after I got out of the
shower. It's a bitch keeping the plastic bag on over the hand, though."

Kerry ran a hand through her own thatchy, unkempt hair. "Why didn't you see
a surgeon about that?" she said, her voice rusty from sleep.

"I did," the firefighter replied. "He said it wasn't as bad as you thought,
though I should come back in for follow-up treatments. In the meantime, he
sewed it up and said I could go home."

"But instead you came here," Kerry mused. Then a thought struck her.
"How'd you know where I lived?" she asked. If anyone at the hospital had
given out her personal information, she'd tear them a new...

"Followed you," the cowgirl told her. "After I finished with the surgeon
and changed into some clothes I keep in the rig, I spotted you driving off,
and decided we needed to talk." She sipped the coffee. "Almost lost you on
that last turn, though, and had to search the block for your car. Knocked
on what looked like the right door, and got lucky."

"In more ways than one," Kerry purred. Slowly, a new realization sank in.
"You were worried about me, weren't you?" she said. "That's why you were
such a bitch."

"Takes one to know one," the cowgirl responded easily, returning her grin.
She moved to sit on the foot of the bed, facing Kerry. One leg was curled
beneath her, the other cocked, so she could rest her forearm on the upraised
knee. And looking incredibly desirable in the process. "Want some?" she
said.

Kerry blinked, taken aback by the directness of the question. Then she
realized what she meant. "Oh, the coffee!" She giggled. "Sure."

"Didn't know how you take it," her visitor said, carefully handing it to
her.

"I'm sure it's fine," Kerry said, leaning to take the cup, uncaring that the
sheet fell away. The coffee was the same color as the cowgirl's skin.
"It's perfect," she said appreciatively, taking a slow sip and watching the
other woman over the rim.

They traded the cup back and forth until the coffee was gone, and then
looked at each other contentedly, each only partly covered.

I love her looking at me, Kerry thought. After years of thinking of herself
as basically cold and unattractive, Kim had made her feel warm and soft and
tender. Kim had made her feel beautiful. But this woman -- Kerry could
only think of her as 'the cowgirl' -- this unnamed woman made her
feel...sexual.

"What are you thinking?" the cowgirl asked her at last.

Kerry felt a sudden awkwardness. "Actually," she admitted, "I'm kind of
kicking myself..."

"For putting out so easily?"

"Easy?! You think that was easy?!" She grinned. "No, I mean...I can't
remember your name." She felt the faintest tinge in her cheeks.

The cowgirl blinked, then laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I, uh...I don't know yours, either." For the first time, the headstrong
firefighter looked embarrassed. Her expression sent a blissful bolt through
Kerry's heart, and they laughed together.

Wiping tears from her eyes and hugging her ribs, Kerry caught her breath and
said, "I'm K--"

"No," the cowgirl said, holding up a hand and looking suddenly serious.
"Don't tell me."

Surprised, Kerry looked at her quizzically. "Why not?"

The other woman looked into the distance for a moment, as though searching
for the right words. "I kinda like it this way," she said. "I don't know
you, I didn't plan this, it just happened."

Kerry sat back against her pillow, considering the thought.

"Right here, right now, this could be anything," the cowgirl added. "I
could love you, or hate you, or maybe never see you again, and this would be
a perfect memory. This right now, the moment, you know?"

"Aqui` y ahora?" Kerry murmured.

That brought a smile that lit up the cowgirl's face. "Si. Aqui` y ahora."
She pulled something from the pocket of her shirt. "Here," she said,
handing a small object to Kerry. "Souvenir."

She looked at it; a pearly button.

"Came off my shirt when you tore it off."

"I'm sorry," Kerry said. "I can sew it..."

"Uh-uh. It gave its life for a noble cause. I don't want to dishonor its
sacrifice, do you?"

Kerry had to smile. "No, I don't either."

The cowgirl leaned her chin on her own knee. "Anything you do want, then?"

Long pause before Kerry replied. Then she pushed the bedsheets off herself.
Modesty had always been part of her nature; even with Kim, she'd exposed
herself sparingly, allowing herself to experience the feeling of
vulnerability. But being naked in front of this woman didn't make her feel
vulnerable. It made her feel powerful. "I want you to take that shirt
off...and come here."

Without changing expression, the cowgirl slowly uncoiled from where she sat
and prowled forward like a jaguar.

Kerry raised a foot playfully, toes touching the cowgirl's lips as though
stopping her from speaking. The woman opened her lips, taking them softly
into her mouth, teasing Kerry with the tip of her tongue. She kissed her
way up the inside of Kerry's instep, ankle, calf, knee, thigh...

Opening herself once again, Kerry lay back and luxuriated as her mysterious
lover slowly kissed, licked, and sucked at her sexual center, filling her
with an incandescent glow that hummed softly throughout her body. Time
slowed, contracted, became immaterial as she enjoyed the smooth, steady
ascent to orgasm, then let it burst into being and overcome her. "Yes..."
she sighed aloud again, settling back on the mattress.

The cowgirl's body covered hers again, and they kissed, slow and deep. Then
Kerry felt the same probing at her vaginal lips...

"Wait," she said. "Not this time."

The cowgirl hesitated, uncertainty in her face.

"I want you as a woman," Kerry whispered, caressing her face. "Not a man."

All motion ceased as the cowgirl looked into her eyes, perhaps wondering if
Kerry meant it, or if she could be safe with Kerry. "All right," she said
softly at last. She sat up, reaching beneath the shirt, and slipped the
flexible straps off her hips, removing the artificial appendage. Sat back
to slide it off her legs, then set it aside.

Kerry took it, sitting up beside her, and placed it on the bed within arm's
reach. She might have use for it later, but not now.

Unbuttoning the shirt, the cowgirl allowed Kerry the privilege of sliding it
off her shoulders and discarding it. She faced Kerry, on her knees, for the
first time fully naked, save for the bandaged hand. Not merely nude, but
naked.

Kerry ran her eyes and hands lightly over the body in front of her,
attention caught immediately by the white lines that traced through the
brown skin. Scars, several of them. Visual record of the cowgirl's
personal history. My god, Kerry thought, she's got more scars than I
have...

The cowgirl held still, obviously a little nervous, as Kerry's finger
followed them, one by one. This one was clearly a simple appendix scar,
that one also looked surgical. But this looked like an injury, as did that
one. And this one, here...knife wound. No mistaking that one, after all
the similar scars she'd seen.

Kerry's eyes completed their tour of the woman's body, gliding slowly up to
meet her eyes again. The cowgirl waited, patiently allowing Kerry to see
her for what she was and where she'd been. It was an intimacy that belied
the fierceness of their earlier coupling.

This woman was a warrior, Kerry thought intently. Strong and proud and
brave. A soldier in the same war Kerry fought, but an advance scout.
Beauty was a minor consideration to her, femininity an afterthought. But
beautiful she was, in Kerry's view.

She slid her arms around the woman's ribs, up over her shoulder blades, and
pulled the woman toward her, kissing the hollow of her shoulder, feeling the
strong shoulders and breasts against her own, reveling in their combination
of softness and solidity. Arms closed about her shoulders, warming her, as
soft lips nuzzled in her hair. "Bonita...loca...brava..." the voice
whispered again, between kisses.

Kerry bore her down to lie on her back, so Kerry could explore her body in
greater detail from a more comfortable position. She kissed each scar, in
turn, honoring the woman for her bravery and for the pain she'd suffered.
Wishing to wipe away that pain, even as she knew the cowgirl wore her scars
proudly. They were badges of pride to her, to be celebrated, not hidden.
Not like Kerry's.

Kerry brought her mouth up to her face and kissed it, cheeks, chin,
forehead, eyelids, and lips. Drawing a map on her own tingling lips.
Committing to memory a face that had both cheered for the living and cried
for the dead.

This woman is as much my reflection as Kim was, she thought suddenly. Kim
reflected her feminine side, this woman her masculine. Kerry hadn't
realized until now just how beautiful androgyny could be; far from being
sexless, the cowgirl was a strikingly erotic blend of male and female
qualities. Soft, yet strong. No less a woman for that strength, or for the
way she played at being a man in bed, but a very different kind of woman.
And, like Kim, she represented qualities to which Kerry aspired, and never
felt she entirely lived up.

The cowgirl's carotid pulsed beneath Kerry's lips as she descended, tickling
the tip of her tongue. She kissed the beating heart beneath her chest, then
moved to flick her tongue over the erect nipple. It stood out, a deeper
brown against the woman's skin, and Kerry took it into her mouth, sucking at
it like an object of worship, loving the way the cowgirl's chest rose in
response. Some part of her had never been able to shake the feeling that
Kim had just been humoring her when she returned the blonde woman's physical
attentions, uncertain she was capable of creating such honest pleasure in
another woman. Now she knew Kim's responses had been very real.

"Lower," the cowgirl gasped. "Besame lower, please..."

Kerry obediently -- but slowly -- moved down the woman's body, thoroughly
enjoying every inch, until she reached her sex. She'd seen hundreds of
women naked (and men, for that matter) in her work, but only recently had
she become fully aware of their allure. She felt it keenly now, as strong
as any desire she'd felt for anyone.

The muscled legs parted at her softest touch, inviting her attentions, and
Kerry entered her first with fingers, then with her tongue, questing,
probing, searching, and ultimately finding. The cowgirl gasped, moaned, and
sighed with approval.

Delicately separating the labia with her fingertips, Kerry found her
clitoris, that perfect pearl of womanhood, and kissed it lightly. "Te
deseo, mi amor," she whispered, further taxing her limited Spanish. She
hoped she'd gotten the grammar right, but it probably didn't make much
difference at the moment, anyway.

Bringing her mouth once more to the cowgirl's sex, she settled herself and
began the long, slow process of making love to her. She'd enjoyed her share
of quickies with Kim, and sometimes even the kind of desperate passion that
she'd had with the cowgirl earlier, but this was what she loved most. Both
giving and receiving. Every touch, every movement, silently declared that
this wouldn't be rushed through, but savored. She inhaled the woman's
exotic flavor, distinct and different from Kim's, no less fascinating, and
slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly drove her deeper into realms of exquisite
delirium.

She envisioned herself reciting an epic poem, an ode to the love of the
moment, giving a spellbinding performance. This, too, was a manifestation
of the power awakened inside her, the power both to stave off death and
fight for another's life, and to enrich and celebrate that life. To exert
both, so outstandingly, in one night made Kerry feel stronger and more
dynamically vital than she'd felt in years.

The cowgirl's cries escalated, and her body writhed helplessly, surrendered
to Kerry's will, and she spiraled into a climax that stunned Kerry with its
immediacy. She drank in the burst of wetness, as though absorbing the
woman's life into herself. Making love is an exchange at the primal level,
she thought in passing. You give part of yourself, and take a piece of your
lover in return. This, she thought, was a damn good trade.

Kerry hadn't noticed how tightly she was clutched between the cowgirl's legs
until they relaxed, freeing her. The slight ache in her shoulders was well
worth it, though. She kissed her way up the trembling body, her lips
skating over the sheen of perspiration, her own body drinking in the warmth
as it covered her lover's. The woman's skin was hot against her own. They
sank into each other's arms, mouths finding each other on autopilot, and
Kerry gave herself completely to the kiss. The occasional tremor in the
body beneath hers thrilled Kerry, reminding her of just who had inspired
those tremors. Not since she first went to bed with a man and discovered
firsthand the pleasure of sex had she felt such a sense of triumph and
satisfaction.

The cowgirl's hands roamed over her body, across her back, shoulders and
buttocks, behind her head, fingers combing through her hair, while the
woman's lips and tongue moved glisteningly against her own. I never want to
stop kissing you, she thought. If she could collapse the universe to a
small bubble around the two of them and make time stop, she'd have done so
without hesitation. But time and space have their own agendas,
unfortunately.

When at last her mouth eased free of the cowgirl's, they both seemed to wind
to a halt, their mutual passion expended at last. They looked into each
other's eyes, each inhaling the other's breath.

"Thank you for saving my life," Kerry whispered at last.

The cowgirl smiled. "That's right," she said. "I did, didn't I?"

Kerry nodded, her lips grazing the woman's.

The world seemed to rotate as the cowgirl rolled her onto her back. "Some
would say that means you belong to me now."

Whatever reply Kerry might have made was lost as they kissed again.

Her memories beyond that point were less clear, though she was aware of
another orgasm, the cowgirl's uninjured hand between her legs, then grayness
clouding her vision...a faint voice whispering something that sounded like,
"Aqui` y ahora...te amo, hermana loca..."

Then sleep...


* * *


Waking once again, this time to her alarm clock, she opened her eyes to
daylight. Alone again.

She rolled to shut off the alarm, and as she did so, she found something on
the bedside table. A slip of paper.

Pulling it closer, she read the simple note: 'Aqui` y ahora' followed by a
lipstick kiss imprint, and something taped beneath it. The pearl button.

She looked at for a long time, then peeled the tape off and held the button
tightly in her hand, gripping it so tightly that it would leave its imprint
in her palm.

Rolling back again, staring at the ceiling, arms and legs spread-eagled, she
took a deep, contented breath through her smile. Feeling the magic of the
moment, free of concerns or expectations. "Aqui` y ahora, Weaver," she
sighed to herself, loving the way it made her feel.

Grabbing the pillow and smothering her face with it, she finally let loose
the whoop that had been building when the cowgirl interrupted her, now ripe
with double the cause. She screamed it out into the pillow as loud as she
could, her bed suddenly transformed into the world's highest mountaintop.
Abandoning all pretense of poise, civility or sophistication, she unleashed
her joy in one primal howl.

Her throat might be sore that afternoon, but sometimes a woman's gotta do
what a woman's gotta do.


* * *


Walking into the emergency room, she managed a 'good morning' for the
passing staff that was cheery without losing its authoritarian edge. If
anyone wanted to intuit that she'd gotten royally laid last night, let 'em.

"Morning, Dr. Weaver," Frank replied. "Capt. Danneker's here, and he needs
to talk to you."

"About last night?"

"I think s-- Oh, here he is." Frank nodded to the approaching fire captain.

Kerry turned to greet the stolid, balding man, noting that it was one of the
few times she'd seen him out of full gear. "Morning, Captain. What can I
do for you?"

"Dr. Weaver," he said, returning her handshake. "Just need to take care of
some incident reports, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

"Nothing too fancy; the whole incident seems pretty straightforward, and you
certainly come off looking well. Although," he added, looking at her
sternly, "if you were one of my firefighters, and pulled a stunt like that,
I'd kick your ass for it."

She snorted dismissively, unimpressed. She could sense the approval under
his gruff tone. "You need my side of things for the record, I assume?"

"Right. Yours and Sandy's."

"Sandy's?" Kerry glanced at him curiously.

"Sandy Lopez," he clarified. "You met her last night, but I guess you
didn't really get introduced properly. She's around here somewhere."

Ulp! Kerry's heart suddenly sprang into her throat.

"Yup, here she comes." Danneker nodded to the uniformed woman emerging from
the nearest ladies' room. When she reached them and looked at Kerry, she
froze. "Sandy Lopez, Dr. Kerry Weaver," Danneker introduced them.

Kerry cleared her throat. "Um, nice to meet you," she ventured. What was
one supposed to say in a situation like this?

"You, too, Dr. Weaver," Lopez replied carefully, holding up a bandaged hand.
"Excuse me not shaking hands..."

Oh boy, Kerry thought with a nervous, giddy thrill. This could get
hazardous...