Stuck With You
Part Two
By Céindreadh
ceindreadh@eircom.net

Elizabeth Corday and Dave Malucci

DISCLAMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within are the property of Warner Brothers Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant C Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. The story presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is making no profit.

Spoilers for 'Such sweet sorrow'

Ok, this is a stand-alone story in a series (ok i know that doesn't make sense but the rest of the story does - i hope )

Dave pushed the empty wheelchair towards the elevator whistling merrily. When he had left the ER to bring the patient upstairs, Haleh had warned him not to come back without the chair. "Every time we send a patient up to geriatrics those no good residents steal our wheelchairs." She had said. "Don't let them get this one."

Dave waited at the lift for ages. He briefly considered carrying the chair down the many flights of stairs to the ER but decided against it. Finally the doors parted. He was already inside and pressing the floor number when he realised that the figure with her head buried in a medical journal was Dr. Corday.

Elizabeth had been paged for an ER consult. She was trying to catch up with her reading as well. She glanced up briefly as the doors closed and groaned inwardly at the sight of Malucci. "Oh well," she thought to herself. "At least it's only a short ride."

"Evening Dr Corday," said Dave, hoping that he wasn't going to get landed with another lecture.  He had managed to avoid Corday since her lecture to him. He could still hear her words ringing in his ears. The worst part was that he hadn't been able to disagree with her. Still at least she couldn't fault him for misdiagnosing a wheelchair.

"Dr Malucci," replied Elizabeth with icy politeness.

Dave wondered was it his imagination or was there a slight sneer on the word 'doctor'.

Elizabeth went back to studying her notes. Her concentration was broken by Dave whistling softly and snapping his fingers. Irritated, she was just about to tell him to shut up when without warning the elevator accelerated slightly and then abruptly stopped. The lights went out and Elizabeth and Dave were flung to the ground.



"Malucci, are you ok?" asked Elizabeth as she pushed herself up off the floor.   There was no reply. "Where are the dammed emergency lights when you need them." She swore under her breath. Finally the emergency lights clicked on. Or at least half of them did and not very brightly. The dim light was enough for Elizabeth to see Malucci sprawled awkwardly on the ground next to the overturned wheelchair. Blood was trickling from a small cut on his forehead down past his closed eyes. A small trickle was leaking from the side of his mouth.

"Oh god," said Elizabeth as she knelt beside him feeling for a pulse. Fortunately it was strong and his breathing appeared regular. Cursing herself for not carrying her stethoscope, she carefully ran her hands up and down his side trying to locate any signs of broken ribs.

Dave's eyes fluttered open. "Why Dr Corday, this is so sudden," he said weakly.

Elizabeth had to smile in spite of herself. "Typical Malucci," she thought to herself. "We're stuck in an elevator, he could be bleeding internally and he's still flirting with the only woman in sight." Out loud she said, "Try not to talk too much. You're bleeding from your mouth and you may have a punctured lung."

Dave muttered something barely audible.

"What was that?" said Elizabeth leaning closer to him.

"I said I bit my lip when I hit the chair. That's where the bloods coming from. I'll be ok in a minute."

"I think I'm more qualified to make a diagnosis. Do you have your stethoscope with you?"

"Right hand pocket of my jeans."

Elizabeth retrieved it and listened to Malucci's breath sounds. There was no indication of broken ribs, although there was some tenderness, it was probably just bruising. "Looks like your diagnosis was right," she said as she removed the earpieces.

"Yeah, well I've another one for you. I think my wrist is broken."

Elizabeth carefully helped Dave into a sitting position resting his back against the wall of the car. She carefully examined his wrist. "You could be right. We'll get you x-rayed as soon as we get out of here."

"Wow, two for two. I must be on a roll," said Dave sarcastically. "Lets make it a hat-trick. I diagnose a mild concussion."

"There's no need for that attitude young man," replied Elizabeth. "I'm going to call maintenance and see how long it'll be before they get us out."

Unfortunately the emergency phone, like the lights wasn't working fully. After a few minutes of shouting futilely Elizabeth gave up and sat back down beside Dave. "No luck?"

"I could barely hear the man on the other end. But I think he said it wouldn't be too long."

They sat in silence for a while.

Dave was the first to speak. "I'm sorry if I was a bit sarcastic earlier," he said. "I mean I know you're more qualified than me and everything, but I do know my stuff. I mean I'm not a total idiot."

"I never said that you were. From what I've heard, you have the necessary skills to be a good doctor. You just lack the self-discipline and motivation required to use them correctly."

"Yeah whatever," Dave turned away from Elizabeth.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you. Do you think I enjoyed saying what I said to you that day?"

Dave shrugged, then winced as he inadvertently moved the wrist he had been carefully cradling.

"I did not enjoy it one bit. This is not some sort of competition. We want residents to succeed. But we also want to weed out the unsuitable doctors out of the profession."

"Am I really unsuitable?"

"If you carry on the way you have been, then yes. You and your patients would be better off if you quit medicine." Elizabeth continued in a gentler tone. "Malucci, I know I'm not in the ER all the time, but I do hear what goes on. You do have the potential to be a good doctor. But it requires time and effort. You have to work at it all the time. Not just when you're interested."

"Hardly seems worth it if no one thinks I'm much of a doctor."

"Dr. Weaver thinks you're a good doctor."

"Yeah?"

"Didn't she speak to you about the incident with the tubo-ovarian abscess?"

"She tore a few strips off me for not supervising Abby properly and for signing off a patient without seeing her. She hasn't mentioned it since."

"Hmm. Well our discussion was confidential, but she did have a higher opinion of you that I did." Elizabeth vividly remembered the confrontation. Kerry had been in a foul mood all day. When Elizabeth had broached the subject of Malucci's sloppiness and irresponsibility, Kerry had listened calmly and then told Elizabeth that disciplining ER residents and students was her job. While she had not out and out defended Dave, Elizabeth was left in no doubt that Kerry did not share the general low opinion of him.

The full lights came on almost blinding them. As the elevator started to move Elizabeth helped Dave into the wheelchair. "Listen Dave," she said. "If you pull yourself together and concentrate on your work, not just the interesting parts of it, you have every chance of becoming a good doctor. If not, you probably won't last another year. The choice is yours. Make it the right one."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm a surgeon. We're never wrong."

Dave smiled in spite of himself. The elevator finally stopped and the doors opened. "C'mon," said Elizabeth as she pushed the chair into the hallway. "Let's get you seen to properly."

THE END


céindreadh
"I have never understood why it is necessary to become irrational in order to prove that you care, or why it should be necessary to prove it at all"
Kerr Avon

http://homepage.eircom.net/~ceindreadh/index.htm