TITLE: Should Auld Acquaintance (Or, Nights in White Satin Tights), part
1/2
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING:  PG-13
KEYWORDS:  KW/LKo romance; fun; sex play; angst; medical stuff
LAST EPISODE SEEN:  "Rampage"
TIMELINE:  New Year's Eve, Season 7
CROATIAN:  zhdrebac = stallion, stud
ALBANIAN: "Gurshy" = corruption of "gjyshe", Albanian for "grandmother"
(Ya know... like "Gamma"?)
ARCHIVE:  If you must.
DISCLAIMER: ER and all its characters belong to Warner Bros.  No
infringement of their copyright is intended.  This story was written for
the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your
own pleasure.
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS:  Home and Dry; And Miles to Go Before I Sleep;
Through the Hourglass; Jupiter Aligns with Mars; Shopworn; Come As You
Aren't; Out and About; Up in the Air; Serpent's Tooth; Thanks a Lot!;
Shall We Dance?; Yes, Sir, That's My Baby!; Yule-Tied
SYNOPSIS:  Luka gets a few shocks to his system; Abby and Carter quarrel
over, around and through patients; fresh meat arrives at County;
Elizabeth has a Musical Moment.
SPOILERS:  For "Piece of Mind" and for "Where the Heart Is"... more or
less.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Put down all food and drink RIGHT NOW, and leave it
alone until you've finished reading. I'm serious. And you might want to
put off reading this, if there are any light sleepers in earshot. You
have been warned. Thanks to Miesque and Hollie for input and feedback.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER:  Elizabeth suggested to Kerry that she take a
pregnancy test; Luka publicly announced his engagement to Kerry; Mark
and Elizabeth learned of an experimental study in New York that might
help Mark.



    Should auld acquaintance be forgot
    <mumble mumble mumble>
    <mumble mumble mumble mumble>
   And auld lang syne!
          --by Robbie Burns, as performed by the average drunk New Years
reveller



Kerry tried to hide under the afghan as the alarm went off. Carol had
sent them the colorful, oversized blanket as a slightly belated
Christmas present, and it was a good size for the two of them to be able
to snuggle together under it... or an even better size for her to huddle
underneath it by herself when she was trying to avoid getting up as Luka
harangued her.

"C'mon! Time to get up," Luka ordered her, as he tried to wrestle the
afghan away from her. This had become a ritual of sorts between them
lately, of him nagging and cajoling and working up to the ultimate step.

"Don' wanna," she whined, and let out a sudden yipe when she found
herself scooped up, blanket covering and all. "Nnnn... 'm *tired*!"

"Mm-hm. And what would you tell a resident who complained that she was
tired because she'd been up late watching soft-core movies with her
boyfriend... again?" She grumbled at the ill-disguised amusement in his
voice, and struggled free of the blanket to stare at him imperiously. Of
course, an imperious stare just wasn't the same, she thought, when she
was in the middle of a pile of afghan in her fiance's arms, and
completely naked to boot.

"I'd tell her that 'the Chief' is always right, of course," she informed
him loftily; he choked back laughter and hugged her before setting her
down in an untidy heap on the bed. Then he snatched the afghan away from
her before she could regroup and pull it back around herself, and she
harrumphed indignantly.

"Seriously, though... how are you feeling today?" he asked her, as he
sat next to her on the bed and put his arm around her.

"Better than I have lately," she hedged, as she leaned against him. "But
I have an appointment today."

"Oh. Who are you seeing on New Year's Eve? I didn't think most of the
doctors in the hospital would be around on a *Sunday* - and a holiday,
at that - if they could possibly help it."

"Mm. It may be nothing... I don't want to say anything until I know
more. I don't want you to worry." She didn't feel right about holding
out on him, but she'd have a final answer either way, soon enough.

"And yet, you have me worrying about a *lot* of possibilities, when you
could maybe narrow down the possibilities a little...?" She shook her
head firmly, and he sighed. "All right. Maybe you're just tired because
you're a little anemic, huh? Make sure your doctor spins a--" She put a
hand on his lips to silence him, and smiled at him.

"Luka. My doctor is competent enough to know which tests to order. *I'm*
competent enough to know which tests need to be ordered."

"Okay, okay. But can't I worry about you a *little*?" She pretended to
think about it, and smiled again.

"Hmmmm... *okay*." She nuzzled against him for a moment. "You know, we
*do* have time for a quickie. How about it, zhdrebac?" She surprised
herself with the aggressive question, but was even more surprised when
he turned to her and suddenly stretched her out on the bed, and poised
himself over her with one hand holding her hands just above her head.
There was a gleam in his eye that indicated his approval of the general
idea.

"A quickie, eh? So you'd like me to take you right here, right now?
Maybe... maybe kiss and suck on your pretty breasts, winding each nipple
to a rosy point, and trailing my way down your tummy," his free hand
indicated each idea, as though he were acting as his own Lovely
Assistant on a game show, "until you're wriggling very prettily under
me, begging for me to give you release. Like that idea?" He waited for
her quick, eager nod as he inspected her from head to toe, then smiled.
"No. With you, never a quickie. *Always* a longie," he whispered in her
ear, before letting go of her wrists and sitting up. "Remember? Now
hurry up and get ready to go!" He left the room - Kerry noticed with
some satisfaction that he was walking a little stiffly - but turned for
a moment.

"Anyway, we'll have plenty of time after work. Fool around, maybe some
slivovic at some point, to see the new year in a little late, and see if
we can get all the way upstairs this time before it kicks in. Oh, and
you can tell me how your doctor's appointment went?"

"I'll let you know after *I* know something for sure," she promised. It
wasn't a complete lie, after all - she had a pretty good idea by now of
what was going on with her, but she wanted to get a second opinion from
a specialist.

* * *

Dave helped the paramedics get the man and his son out of the wrecked
car, strapped carefully into the c-collars and shifted onto backboards,
loaded into the rig. Watching the guy, with his obvious love and concern
for his son... that was more than *he'd* ever gotten at that age. As he
checked the guy's-- er, Dan Harris's vitals, he thought about how it
would've been, if that had been him and Leo in that car wreck. Leo
screaming at him for the latest thing he'd done wrong, no doubt. And
wouldn't the old man just *love* what Dave was up to, these days....
"Paul," Harris said quietly. "How is he?"

"Don't worry, Mr Harris. We'll be at the hospital in no time, and
they'll fix you guys right up." That was the cue for them to pull into
the ambulance bay. Carter and Cleo met them as the back doors swung
open, and Dave handed off Mr Harris to Carter (Cleo was heading for
Paul, as Pickman rattled off the bullet for the kid).

"Decided to become a paramedic, Dave?" Dan looked around, the best he
could, and saw a tall, thin man approaching... well, he assumed it was a
man, anyway. Looked like a *kid*, really. The guy who'd first peered
into the wreck of the car and asked him and Paul how they were doing,
before introducing himself as "Dr Dave", grinned and shrugged.

"Nah. I'm doin' my ridealong. Part of the residency requirement,
remember?" Dave had no idea what he'd said, that Hoss suddenly looked
like *that*... like somebody'd pissed in his Cheerios. Oh well.

"Yeah. Have fun."

"You know I always do," Dave quipped, and turned back toward the rig.
Dan noticed the movement in his peripheral vision.

"Wait! You're leaving?!?" Dave was startled by the near-desperation in
the man's voice.

"Yeah. But you're in real good hands, now. Take care, huh?" He clapped
Mr Harris's shoulder, and joined Pickman and Zadro.

Carter shook his head, and got Dan to Trauma 1. He could see that the
boy who'd been brought in with Mr Harris was being worked on by Cleo in
Trauma 2. A quick check later, he was able to remove the c-collar,
allowing Dan to look around at the unfamiliar surroundings; he hadn't
been in a hospital since Paul was born, 15 years ago!

Kerry came through the adjoining door, having checked on Cleo's
progress. "Carter, are you all right in here - do you need any help?"

"Sure, Kerry. Can you grab me a chest tube tray? His lung's collapsed."
She got the requested materials, and watched him work for a while before
she was satisfied that he had everything well in hand. Meanwhile, Dan
was giving Lydia contact information for his wife.

"Her name is Debra Harris, and she teaches at Our Lady of Perpetual
Hope."

"Our Lady of Perpetual Hope... that's a Sunday school?"

"Yeah. Well, and regular school, too."

"Okay. Don't worry. We'll try to get hold of her as soon as possible.".

"I've got it, Lydia," Kerry said. "I'll call them, you stay here and
help Carter." Lydia shrugged.

"Sure thing, Dr Weaver." Dan weakly put out a hand to touch her sleeve.

"Paul... how is he? I saw him in the other room - can I see him?"

"I'll ask Dr Finch," Kerry promised, and headed into the other room. Dan
gasped out a nearly-hysterical little laugh.

"Finch, huh? Where's Dr Sparrow and Nurse Canary?"

"Oh, they don't come on duty till tomorrow," Lydia deadpanned as Kerry
came back through and propped the door open before leaving. Dan could
see that Paul was awake, although obviously in pain.

"Hey, Paul! How ya doin' in there?"

"Oh, just great, Dad," Paul responded sarcastically. "I feel like I've
been hit by a garbage truck!" They shared a

"You're gonna be just fine, I know it! Hang in there, son."

* * *

Abby bustled into... hm... curtain area 2. Yeah. There was the guy she
was supposed to take up to Radiology for a head CT. Dan Harris. And
hey... there was the *other* guy she was looking for.

Carter had just given Dan a clipboard with a consent form, to authorize
treatment for Paul who, it seemed, had a badly broken leg. He scribbled
his signature on the indicated line, then handed it back and looked
curiously at the young woman who'd come in the room. Kinda short,
average looking - though she might be prettier if she smiled more -
maybe a doctor, since she was wearing one of those white coats.

"Did you tell Weaver yet?" She knew she shouldn't be discussing this in
front of the patient, in even the veiled way she was, but she was
anxious to hear how Dr Weaver had reacted to news of John's slip. She
certainly hoped that the older woman wouldn't punish him too harshly,
considering that he'd at least come straight to her with the vomited
pills, instead of concealing what he'd done.

"It's one of my resolutions," Carter assured her blithely, as he got Mr
Harris ready to go up for his head CT. Dan watched them chit-chat about
what the man had or hadn't told this 'Weaver' person - he wasn't sure
what that something might be, and maybe he'd just seen too many of those
sinister dramas set in hospitals, but he had a feeling that he probably
didn't *want* to know what Dr Carter was supposed to tell 'Weaver'.
Maybe that he was stealing internal organs from patients?

* * *

"John, you *have* to tell her." Abby kept at him relentlessly as they
headed for Radiology, steering Mr Harris's gurney between them. "The
longer you put it off, the worse it'll be for you when she does find
out."

"And how will she find out? Are *you* going to tell her?"

"I'm your sponsor, not your mother," she snapped at him. "And you came
to me as your sponsor - it wouldn't be ethical for me to tell her."

"Surely not *just* my sponsor?" He tried to kid with her, but she wasn't
having any of it.

"If you don't tell her soon, you're gonna have to look for a *new*
sponsor." She shook her head at his puppy-dog eyes routine. "You knew
from the start that I was only there as your sponsor temporarily, but
it's been three and a half months. I've *tried* introducing you to
people at the meetings, but you've always found a reason not to ask
them."

"You know... for someone who isn't my mother, you're sure doing a damn
good imitation of it!"

"Asshole!" she hissed at him, and yanked the gurney along.

* * *

Dave took advantage of a break in his shift to grab some coffee from the
lounge and check on how Mr Harris was doing. "So he didn't have any
broken bones or anything?"

"Just a collapsed lung, Dave. Sorry to disappoint you," Carter informed
him sarcastically, and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I was just wondering how he was doing. That's all." He checked his
watch quickly, and wondered if he had time to make a call.

"Oh, Dr Weaver said the blood bank's running low - she wants everybody
to donate before the end of their shift."

"I always do, man. Makes it easier and cheaper to get drunk, when I'm a
pint low."

"Malucci! Are you coming, or not?!?" Dave rolled his eyes at Pickman's
sharp summons, and drained the last of the coffee from his cup before
throwing it away.

"Gotta roll, man. Catch ya later."

* * *

Dan sat in a wheelchair by the side of Paul's bed in the trauma room,
and watched him... sleep? It had been scary earlier, seeing those
doctors rushing into the trauma room, with nobody stopping to answer his
questions about what was happening. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he
waking up?" The red-headed doctor he'd seen earlier, the one with the
crutch, came over to speak with him quietly.

"Mr Harris, your son is unconscious, but he has no skull fracture or
blood clots in his brain. He can probably hear you, if you talk to him."

"Uh... thanks, doctor." She nodded, and left the room. Dan took hold of
Paul's hand a little awkwardly; he hadn't held the boy's hand in years.
Last time was... geez... probably back when Paul had needed his hand
held to cross the street.

"Hey, Paul. Ready to go home, kiddo? Open your eyes, huh? You're missin'
a lot, being out of it, you know. You should have seen it - the one
doctor was tellin' another doctor about a guy who'd stuck his pager in
his ass! Imagine that! You don't suppose he had somebody calling the
number over and over, do ya?" He laughed unsteadily and kissed Paul's
hand, then held it to his face. He remembered when he'd done that every
morning, to get Paul up for school.

He sobered suddenly, as he thought of the "cat scan" he'd had earlier
today. The doctor - or rather, the med student - had helped him get past
his panic at being in such a closed-in place, though overall she'd
seemed a little cool towards him. Maybe it was just that he'd depressed
her by talking about Nathan's death... there were so few people he could
talk to about it, though, he supposed he'd figured that there wasn't any
harm in it, since he'd never see her again. She'd looked... bored?
Exasperated? Dan wasn't sure *what* to call the woman's reaction.

* * *

Dr Flint was quizzing Abby on the x-rays; she answered his questions as
she stared at the lightbox, trying not to think about Dan Harris and
what he'd told her. As long ago as it had been for her, she still
thought about it sometimes... about the choice that she'd made. Harris
and his wife hadn't been given that choice, though - he'd sent his wife
out to have some time to herself after a hard night with the baby, he'd
fallen asleep, and his wife had come home to a dead baby in the crib.
Simple as that.

*She*, on the other hand... she'd made her choice all on her own. She'd
been the only one who knew, except for the workers at the clinic down in
Champaign (a safe two and a half hours by train) - and she hadn't used
her real name, anyway. She didn't think she was the only woman who
hadn't used her real name there... or at least the nurse hadn't batted
an eye at having "Mary Jane Watson" as a patient. She'd never told
Richard about it because she'd never considered it any of his
business... it was *her* body, after all....

* * *

Kerry was looking up some records on the computer when the distraught
woman came up to her. "Excuse me, I'm Debra Harris. Somebody called me,
and said that my husband and my son had been in an accident?"

"Yes, Mrs Harris. Paul's scheduled for orthopedic surgery soon - his leg
was broken in the accident - but he's still down here. I'll take you in
to see them." She led the woman to the trauma room, where Dan Harris had
fallen asleep with his head resting on Paul's chest. "Mr Harris? Mr
Harris! Your wife is here." He awoke with a start, and looked around
until he saw his wife.

"Deb, honey." She crossed the room, and stood on the opposite side of
the bed from her husband... just staring down at Paul's unconscious
body. "God... he looks so big just lying there like that. I remember
when he was small enough for me to rock him to sleep in my arms." He
could see that she was crying at the sight, and he felt awful.

"What *happened*, Dan?!?" He sighed.

"The cop said I ran a red light. I don't know, I don't really
remember... I guess the radio was too loud, and we were arguing.
Honey..." he began, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away angrily.
He grimaced as the pain began in his chest again - that doctor had said
that it was just the chest tube, and had promised to readjust it, but it
was *killin'* him now. The redhead rushed over to him and began asking
him questions about the pain, then went to the door of the room and
yelled for someone named "Malik" to get in there.

"No!" he gasped, as the large black man in pink came around behind his
wheelchair and began to move it. "I wanna stay with Paul! *Please*!"

--
Ellen K. Hursh
"You know, I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair.
Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair, and
all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually
deserve them? So, now I take great comfort in the general hostility
and unfairness of the universe." --Marcus Cole
* * *
This post has been paid for in part by Anubis Markets, a division
of Osiris Foods. So shop at the sign of the jackal-headed man for
food so good, you can eat it.