TITLE: HOTEL, part X
AUTHOR: Scott J. Welles
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: f/f Slash
SPOILERS: For early season 8, up through "Never Say Never".
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Borrowing a page from one of Aeris' stories (luvya, babe!) and
seeing what happens...
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: 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



Hotel, by Scott J. Welles


Part Ten...

(Friday...)

The bleating of the telephone jerked Randi from sleep.  Rolling over and
grabbing it from the bedside table by reflex, she held it quickly to her
ear.  "ER," she answered automatically, then realized she was doing it
again.  "Shit..."

"Good morning, this is your wakeup call," a pleasant, obviously recorded
voice informed her smoothly.

Hanging up the phone with an annoyed grunt, she rolled onto her side,
burrowing deeper under the covers.  They were wonderfully warm and soft
against her bare skin.  Especially after a night as unforgettable as that;
her body still simmered with contentment.

Wait.  Where was Kerry?

Prying her eyes open, she peered around the hotel room.  "Kerry...?"

"Good morning, Randi," Kerry said, emerging fully dressed from the bathroom.
"I'm sorry, I would have let you sleep in, but we need to check out soon."

"Oh.  Uh...sure."  Randi blinked sleep out of her eyes and squinted at
Kerry.  The ER Chief looked and acted exactly as she had each of the
previous mornings.  Nothing about her appearance or behavior gave any
indication of the amazing experience they had shared last night.  As if the
'Magic Reset Button' had been pressed, restoring her to some sort of status
quo.  Like that Bill Murray movie, where every day was the same.  "Are you
okay...?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thanks," Kerry said absently, folding one of her spare jackets
neatly into her suitcase.  "Slept very well.  How about you?"

Randi stared at her in confusion.  She knew perfectly well how Randi had
slept; she'd been there.  "Fine..." Randi mumbled.

"Good, good."  Kerry remained in motion, packing her things with an
efficient economy.

What was happening?  Had the universe skipped a groove, somehow, and bumped
Randi into some kind of parallel world?  No, she was still naked under the
covers, her dress and Kerry's from last night draped over a couple of
chairs - Kerry must have picked them up to minimize wrinkling.  It wasn't a
dream; they had made love.  So why was Kerry acting as though none of it had
happened?

"I don't mean to rush you," Kerry told her, piling up her notes and files,
and stuffing them into her shoulder bag, "but we do have a plane to catch.
You should get up and dressed soon."

"Kerry..."

"I'm finished in the bathroom, so it's all yours if you want to shower.
C'mon, the clock is ticking," she added with a touch of the familiar
impatience.  Everything she had revealed last night - the fear, the need,
the hunger, the passion, the animal power, the tenderness, the love - was
packed away once more.  No longer the creature of extremes she'd been last
night, she was back to the carefully moderated, rational form she usually
displayed.  She was 'Weaver' again.

This had to be wrong.  Maybe Kerry was playing some kind of joke on her.
"What are you doing?" she said aloud.

"I'm packing," Kerry replied pointedly.  "Something you should consider
doing pretty soon, unless you're planning to abandon all the clothes and
things you brought."

Throwing the covers back, Randi stood up, making no move to cover herself.
"Kerry, look at me."

"We should allow ourselves time at the airport, in case there's any
difficulty.  You know how security's been tighter since nine-eleven..."
Kerry had 'casually' turned away as Randi revealed herself, and was still
gathering her things.

"Kerry, we made love last night."

"Yes, we've enjoyed our stay," the Chief replied as though Randi had said
something else entirely.  "The conference was very informative; I got a lot
out of it, but it's time we were going..."

Randi moved toward her and took her arm.  "I love you," she said.

"Randi, please don't do this..."  Kerry twisted her head away, as though the
sight of her companion caused her pain.

Her arms encircled Kerry's shoulders, giving her nowhere to turn, and her
mouth found Kerry's, capturing her in a kiss that burned into her memory
forever.

For a long moment, Kerry responded, melting in Randi's embrace, but then she
pulled herself back with what must have been a Herculean effort.  "Please,
Randi, let me go..." she whispered.  "We have to go..."

"I don't want to go."  Randi pulled Kerry tightly against herself, holding
her even as she knew it was over.

"Randi..."  Kerry's voice was an anguished whisper.  "We can't stay here.
We can't..."  Her hands were unbearably warm against Randi's back.

"Kerry..."

"We have to go home," Kerry pleaded softly.  "We have to."

She knew Kerry was right.  She wanted to fight, to argue, to deny it and
refuse to acknowledge the truth.  But Kerry had always been one to face
reality, and Randi couldn't ask her to do otherwise.  She allowed herself
another fleeting eternity, praying she'd never lose the memory of Kerry in
her arms...and then relaxed her hold.

Kerry eased back, not quite pulling free, but putting a few inches of space
between them.  She placed a hand against Randi's cheek, whether to hold her
close or push her away, there was no telling.  "We can't stay here," she
whispered again, with quiet anguish.

Randi nodded, knowing full well what Kerry meant.  Then she released Kerry
and turned away, padding into the bathroom.

She stood under the shower for a long time, letting the water run over her
face and body.  Mixing with her tears.

Memories of the past week washed over her, words and images alike.  Kerry in
bed, clutching a cramping thigh.

If I move out here and try to do it full time, it stops working.

Some people wouldn't mind being a kept woman.  Would you want to be one?

Have you ever been in love?

Sooner or later, you gotta go home.

I knew I couldn't afford to stay.  It cost too much.

Kerry and Tess glancing shyly at each other.

I can't be your boss and your friend at the same time.

You see how I treat my loved ones; you don't want to be one of them.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is let them go.

Kerry shaking rainwater off herself.

If you really want to help Kerry, you should let her go.

You really care about her, don't you?

You have to let her go.

Kerry was right.  They couldn't stay here.  Not just 'here' in the literal
sense, in Seattle, but 'here' where they'd found themselves last night.
Randi's coastal good fortune had brought them to a place inside themselves
where they could share something unbelievably precious.  But they had to
leave, and go back to Chicago and resume their jobs and their lives.  They
couldn't take that place with them.

Kerry couldn't have a relationship with someone who worked under her in her
department.  If they remained lovers, Randi would have to leave her job.
And then, even if she did quit her job to be with Kerry, how long could it
last?  The passion liberated by a romantic vacation was one thing, but
passion always faded, sooner or later.  Without it, what did they have?
What held them together, different as they were?  The job, she admitted
reluctantly.  They have the job in common.

Randi shut the water off, letting it drip off of her body.  All right.  For
the sake of the job and the woman she loved, she would bury it forever.  As
far as the rest of the world was concerned, and until the end of time, it
never happened.  She would never speak of it again.  But she would always be
there for Kerry, and she would always love her.  Sometimes loving someone
meant putting their needs ahead of your own.

Drying herself off and wrapping towels around her body, Randi left the
bathroom.

It was like stepping backward in time, into a rerun of a familiar TV series.
Kerry was zipping her bags shut, looking neat and tidy and ready to hit the
road at a moment's notice.  "We really need to get moving," she said as
Randi emerged.  "I'm ready when you are."

Randi nodded, just looking at her with bittersweet longing.

"Oh, I meant to ask you," Kerry said, obviously groping for neutral
conversational topics, "how did things go with Sam last night?"

Pretending she didn't know.  "Not well."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"Yeah.  We...didn't find what we were looking for in each other."  And then
I found something so much better...

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Me, too."

Kerry looked at her, almost against her will, a flash of unguarded honesty
in her eyes, and Randi saw how much it cost her to salvage their working
relationship at the cost of whatever else they might have had.

Then she locked her mask in place again.  "I'll, uh, I'll go turn in our
keys and settle the bill," she said.  "I'll meet you downstairs when you're
ready, all right?"

Randi nodded.  "All right...Dr. Weaver."

I'm a hotel room to her, she thought, as Kerry departed.  And now she's
checking out.


*  *  *


Dressed in her comfiest tee shirt, jeans, and her leather jacket, and
lugging her duffle over her shoulder, Randi strolled out of the elevator
into the lobby, looking for Kerry at the front desk.  But she wasn't there.
She turned, looking toward the café, the restrooms, the ballroom, and the
bar.  No sign of Kerry anywhere...but she spotted Odona St. James a ways
off, her back towards Kerry.

Starting toward her, Randi saw she was talking to Kerry.  Or, rather, she
was listening while Kerry talked to her.

Randi couldn't hear their words, but she recognized their body language, and
knew what they were saying.  She'd seen the same conversation take place
between Kerry and Kim, after they were separated.  Kerry was trying to say
how she felt, without abandoning her public dignity.  Odona listened without
replying, while Kerry made fumbling attempts to state her position, reaching
out tentatively to touch Odona's arm.  She didn't look like she was having
an easy time of it.

Finally, Odona stopped her, quietly taking her hand and stroking it gently
as she talked.  Her words, whatever they were, appeared to sooth Kerry's
concerns, something Kim hadn't done, in her place.  She whispered soft
assurances to Kerry, saying all the things she needed to hear.  Kerry
nodded, and Randi could see tears glistening at the corner of her eye.

Then, leaning closer, Odona kissed her.  It was a tender, private moment,
and Randi knew she shouldn't be watching, but she couldn't help herself.

When they drew apart and said their goodbyes, Odona turned and looked at
Randi.  Had she known that Randi was watching, or had Kerry told her?  Did
she know that Randi and Kerry had spent the night together?  If so, she
didn't care.  She just smiled fondly at Randi, and then turned away.

Kerry shouldered her bag, took hold of her rolling suitcase's handle, and
came over to where Randi waited.

"What did she say?" Randi asked her, though she didn't really expect an
answer.

"Until we meet again," Kerry said.  "You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

They walked out of the hotel together, blinking in the bright sunlight.

"When did it stop raining?" Randi asked.


*  *  *


Driving toward the airport, they were treated to some beautiful views of
hills and valleys, the sunlight reflecting off the fallen rain, making all
the colors brighter and bolder than Randi would have imagined.  The silence
as they drove wasn't unpleasant; both women just soaked in the feeling.

When Kerry pulled over by a large blue lake framed by green hills, stopping
the car, Randi looked at her in surprise.  "Anything wrong?"

"No.  I just wanted to stop for a minute."

"We have time?"

"Uh-huh."  Kerry got out of the car, stretching and gazing at the vista.

Randi got out as well, feeling the sudden stillness that comes after a long
drive, and they enjoyed the view in silence together.

"I wish I could paint," Kerry said.

"Hmm?"

"I can quote medical texts in factual detail, and stabilize men and women
dying of every conceivable cause short of decapitation," Kerry said, "but I
can't draw to save my life, let alone paint.  I wish I could, so I could
capture images like this.  Certain memories, you know?  The way something,
or someone, makes me feel."

Randi looked at Kerry's profile, wondering if this had anything to do with
last night.

Kerry changed the subject abruptly.  "I talked to Carol on the phone," she
said, "while you were in the shower."

"About the other night?"

She nodded.  "I apologized for running off...and I told her why."

"Oh..."

"Not the whole story, just that talking about my having kids upset me."   She
looked at Randi.  "I told her about Kim."

The clerk looked back at her.  "You came out to her?"

Kerry nodded.  "What the hell, if I can't trust Carol, who can I trust?"

Randi felt herself starting to smile.

"She asked me if I had come out at work, and I said no."  Kerry looked
uncertainly at Randi.  "Do you think I should...?"

Surprised by the question, Randi stammered a bit.  "I, uh...it really
doesn't matter what I think..."

"It does to me.  I'd really like your opinion."

Randi looked away, considering the thought.  "I think you should," she said,
" just because of 'To thine own self be true', and 'The truth shall set you
free', and all that good shit.  But I dunno, I'm not in your shoes."

Kerry dropped her gaze.  "There's never been an openly gay administrator in
a hospital..."

"So be the first.  Start a fashion."  Randi tried to make it a joke, but it
came out with meaning.  "If anyone can, it's you."

The ER Chief was quiet for a long time, raising her head and gazing off into
the distance.  Her face was still, except for strands of red hair, waving in
the soft breeze.  Her stance was composed, confident...perhaps even proud.
This was the Kerry Weaver Randi had fallen in love with.  Beyond the
enraptured, sensuous lover, beyond the lost, frightened child, there was the
woman who contained them both, and so much more.

Kerry glanced at her watch.  "We'd better get a move on," she said.


*  *  *


Their flight was delayed, so concerns of missing it were groundless.  It
just meant that they'd be getting into Chicago even later at night than
expected.

"Randi, can I ask you something?" Kerry said, as they passed the time over
coffee in the airport Starbucks.

"Sure, Dr. Weaver."

"Why are you still clerking in the ER?"

She looked up, surprised.  "Huh?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's been good having you there for the past six years.
But do you really want to be a clerk forever?"

"Um...I don't know."  She shrugged.  "I need the money..."

"Why haven't you started up that clothing business you wanted?"

"Well, y'know...it's not easy..."

"Have you tried?"

Randi was growing uncomfortable with the topic, but she couldn't shut Kerry
out.  "Dr. Weaver, you know I have to stay employed.  My parole..."

"Randi, your parole ended four years ago," Kerry reminded her.  "I've spoken
to your parole officer.  I know.  You've been a free woman since
ninety-eight."

"Ohh...you know about that, huh?"

"So why are you still at County?  Don't tell me it's because you enjoy it
there."

"Well..."  She knew Kerry was right, but admitting it was hard.

"You don't want to run your own business anymore?"

"Yeah, I do, but..."

"But...?"  Kerry arched an eyebrow.

Randi looked into her eyes, saying the thing she'd been unable to say, even
to herself.  "I'm scared."

The Chief smiled her rare smile of comfort and assurance, the one normally
reserved for patients.  "I know, honey.  And I understand.  I'm not saying I
want you to quit; your job is yours for as long as you want it."

"Thank you, Dr. Weaver."

"But," Kerry added softly, "we all have to leave the nest sometime."

They finished their coffee just as boarding was announced.


*  *  *


The flight attendants took them through all the usual crap, and after
taxiing across endless runways, then sitting motionless waiting for
clearance, the plane finally took to the air, and they left Seattle behind.

Randi put it behind her with an air of resigned acceptance.  She knew it was
for the better, in the long run, to leave their unexpected affair in the
past, unspoken.  It would just make things easier for all concerned.

But still, she wished for some sign that it wasn't so easy for Kerry.  That
what she'd shared with Randi wasn't easily discarded, that it mattered to
her.

They flew in silence.  Randi listened to music on the courtesy headphones.
Kerry read a book.

Passengers slept, around them.

Then, somewhere over the Rocky Mountains, after the sun had set...Randi felt
Kerry's hand brush against hers on the armrest.

Kerry didn't look up from her book, but neither did she pull her hand away.

Randi didn't move hers, either.

Slowly, almost unnoticeably, Kerry's hand turned over and took Randi's.

Randi held her breath.

Kerry didn't move or speak.  She just sat there, holding Randi's hand.

Randi opened her fingers, letting them clasp Kerry's.

Kerry let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh.

And there it was.  The sign she'd hoped for.  She knew, then, that Kerry
would always remember, even if they never spoke of it again.  She'd
remember, and she'd treasure the memory.

It wasn't much, but it was all Randi needed.

She settled back in her seat, closing her eyes and smiling.

Kerry turned a page with her free hand.

And they held hands all the way back to Chicago.



     Finis.