TITLE: Full Speed Ahead

AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh

RATING: PG

KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; a little fun, a little angst. Shockingly, a little medicine even gets practiced.

LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Rock, Paper, Scissors"

TIMELINE: "The Fastest Year"

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.

MEDSPEAK: Tracheostoma = Opening into the trachea, via the neck

SYNOPSIS: Lemon-shopping, tapioca pudding, a voice from the past, street performers and the age-old question: just what IS Dave's middle name, anyway?

SPOILERS: Through "The Fastest Year". Sorta.

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Relative Safety; Off to a Rocky Start; Troubled Water; Comin' Home; Something in the Way; Heart of the Family; The Croatian Patient; It's No Picnic, I Tell Ya; Out of Control; Fool for Your Love; Volatile Opinions; No Perfect Day; Resurrection

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I waved the magic rescheduling wand before, for "Out of Control", and I'm waving it again. So there. Deal with it.

PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER: Carter was seriously injured in the same Valentine's Day stabbing that killed Lucy; Kerry was temporarily suspended after performing a procedure that had been vetoed by Romano; Luka nearly went nuts trying to cope with all the extra shifts.

Kerry parked her car, and just sat behind the wheel for a moment... trying to gather herself to go inside that hospital for the first time in several weeks. She hadn't even had to show up to pick up her paychecks - she'd signed up to have her salary deposited directly into her bank account as soon as the program had become available to hospital staff, since she so rarely had free time during her shifts to go to the bank (and these days, she was sometimes so tired after a shift that she just wanted to go home... maybe take a nice hot bubble bath, and then curl up in bed with a good Croat).

Okay, it's not going to get any *easier*, she told herself sternly, and you don't want to be *late* your first day back, so just get out of the car and march right on in there! She opened the door and swung her legs out, reaching back to grab her crutch so she could lever herself up and out of the car.

Randi was the first person she encountered on her way in - the woman rolled her eyes and shoved a stack of message slips across the counter at Kerry, who began leafing through them, automatically sorting them. "Welcome back, Dr Weaver."

"Thanks, Randi. How's your foot doing?" Randi grimaced, and shrugged.

"Still a little bruised, but it's okay." No thanks to your boyfriend, she felt like adding. She hadn't actually *heard* anything about them - oh, those two had played it cool enough at that impromptu Easter party that Jeanie had organized - but Randi had a nose for these things. After Dr Kovac had dropped her off at the apartment she shared with a waitress and a hairdresser, she'd put a new ice pack on her foot and lay down on the couch with her iced foot propped up on the armrest... just thinking, and putting together pieces.

She'd mentally compared Dr Weaver's voice with that of that whiny broad who'd been calling for Dr Kovac over, well, the period of time Dr Weaver'd been out on suspension (if Genevieve Bailey called again, now that Dr Weaver was back, Randi swore she'd *eat* her Randi-Wear leisure top... the one with all the sequins and the deeply plunging neckline), and thought of the *looks* she'd seen go back and forth between them over the last few months... all the times that it had seemed like they were about to kiss, or touch, but changed their minds at the last minute. In retrospect, it seemed so *obvious* that there was something going on between those two.

She'd initially been tempted to spread it around - gossip didn't get any juicier than Weaver having a sex life! - but finally decided against it: they were kinda cute, and their attempts to keep their affair - she was almost positive they were sleeping together, if not shacked up - secret were equally cute.

* * *

Romano had been lurking in the area, keeping an eye on the door and the clock, and waited until he saw Kerry head for the lounge - he went straight in after her. "Welcome back, Kerry," he told her, as she headed for her locker. She rolled her eyes, since she still had her back to him. Weasel. "Was the last few weeks long enough for you to rethink some of your professional choices?"

"Was the last few weeks long enough for you to get buried down here with Mark Greene taking a little extra time off, too?" *And* with Mark Greene in charge, she thought, a little nervous about the backlog that was undoubtedly waiting for her. It was bad enough after a day off, but she'd been gone several weeks now. Luka had warned her that they were out of several different kinds of forms - Romano hadn't seemed to be interested in taking care of ordering more, had instead unloaded extra forms from one of the other departments on them, which was going to make chart review *very* interesting for the next month or so.

"Oh, it wasn't *too* bad, with everybody pulling on the same oar." Of course, Romano mused, he'd had *some* people pulling harder than others. "And of course I was down here in the trenches, helping out the troops." She put her coat in her locker, then quickly pulled out her labcoat and put it on. She really hadn't intended to take off her coat in front of Romano - she'd worn the sleeveless shirt today because she and Luka had made plans to go out for dinner tonight, after her shift, to celebrate her return to work. He watched her hang her purse on the hook in her locker with deliberate care. "You didn't answer my question."

"And I don't intend to," she shot back, as she looped her stethoscope around her neck. He hmmed, and chuckled nastily... and Kerry wanted to take her stethoscope back off and use it to throttle him. What the heck, the students always needed cadavers, for practicing procedures.

"Well, I'm going to take your return to work as a sign that you *have* decided to play by the rules. I didn't appoint you chief, just so you can go all soft and mushy. Remember, you're here in this job as long as *I* say you are. Got that?"

"Yes." He stared at her suspiciously for a moment, then decided he'd had enough fun for now.

"Good! As long as we understand each other." That is, as long as *you* understand where you fit into the power scheme around here, he thought. That is, I have all the power, and you have only as much as I choose to give you, for as long as I choose. "Now, I have surgery to attend to, so I will let you get on with *your* day." He bustled out of the lounge, unaware of the if-looks-could-kill glare Kerry sent after him.

She wondered if she could convince any witnesses to testify in court that they'd seen Romano go up to the roof on his own, beat himself on the head several times with a 2 x 4, and then throw himself over the edge. Convince? Hell, they'd probably *help*.

* * *

Luka glanced up from a chart he'd just plucked from the rack, and saw Kerry emerge from the lounge and head in the direction of the desk. He'd seen Romano come out about a minute earlier, looking like a cat (well... a rather *hairless* cat, anyway) with cream on its whiskers; he'd been with a patient when Kerry arrived, but Randi had let him know that she was here, and that Romano was in there with her. She'd given him an odd look then, that completely baffled him.

"Kerry. Good to have you back here," he told her. He'd actually last seen her only last night, but he was genuinely happy that she was back at work. If he'd had any doubts about shooting for the position of department chief, they would have been wiped away by a week of finding himself scheduled to work another shift almost every time he turned around: he did *not* want to be the one in charge of this madhouse!

"Thank you. It's good to *be* back." Randi watched them, a little amused now that she knew the score. She wondered how she'd ever missed the sly little glances they exchanged, the way his eyes lingered on Dr Weaver. And Dr Weaver certainly didn't seem to miss much about him, either.

"I'm going to go try to get caught up on paperwork - I'll be in the suture room, if you need me." Luka watched Kerry crutch away with the armload of papers, unaware that Randi was, in turn, watching the wistful expression on his face.

* * *

"Carter, can I get your help with an LP?"

"Huh? Sure, no problem, Dr Kovac." Carter was a little nervous about this, actually - he hadn't been anywhere near a tap since February - but he didn't want to look like some kind of weakling in front of *anybody*, let alone an attending. Gramps had always got on him about that, about not showing your weaknesses... it was why he'd always had to do his grieving for Bobby in private.

"Great, thanks," Luka said. He was completely unaware of Carter's inner turmoil - the younger man had done such a thorough job of blocking off his emotions that even *he* wasn't consciously aware of all of them - and they went to Exam 2, where little Edgar waited.

"You're thinking he might have meningitis?" Luka shrugged.

"He has a fever and he's been vomiting," he said, thinking of the way the child had very nearly thrown up all over him - Conni had passed him an emesis basin just in time for him to stick it under Edgar's face. "And he's been complaining of headaches. So, that does have to ruled out." They moved to opposite sides of the bed, and Carter pointed to the boy, who was lying limply on the bed, on his side.

"He's lethargic, too?"

"He's a little sleepy... I gave him some Versed," Conni explained quietly, and Carter nodded.

Now that Luka had someone to help him, he could administer the actual numbing agents to Edgar's back. He gloved up, and prepared to start. "Roll him into a ball," he quietly directed Carter. "Okay... good." He carefully injected the lidocaine - too intent on what he was doing to see that Carter was staring at the syringe as the needle went in - and didn't see that Carter looked away and down as he changed to a 22 gauge needle and began the actual tap.

His attention was focused solely on little Edgar, and getting a good clean draw, so it wasn't until he had finished, and thanked the other doctor, that he looked up and noticed that Carter had frozen, and was still holding Edgar in that curled-up position. "Carter?" he repeated. "Thank you." Carter blinked, and shook off his fog, then nodded vaguely and walked away.

Luka watched Carter go, and frowned. How odd! Maybe Kerry should know about this. It never occurred to him that Carter might have been spooked by the procedure - Luka would have expected him to speak up if he had a problem. Or at least that's what his therapist should have been teaching him... it was Luka's understanding that Carter was seeing somebody.

He got distracted, unfortunately, in the course of ordering tests on the vials of spinal fluid, and then immediately afterwards taking care of a woman - shot several times - who was brought in by her friends, and he had forgotten about the incident by the time he was free again; he didn't think about it again until much later, when it was too late to do any good.

* * *

On his way to drop off the chart on that GSW, he came upon Carol and the other nurses discussing different kinds of cars; that was *so* not his field of expertise (if it were, he supposed, he wouldn't be driving an old Saab that was almost in the shop more than it was drivable). He nearly found himself dragooned into accompanying her on an expedition to buy a "new" used car - on the theory that a man should *always* go along when buying a car - but was relieved to spot Dave, heading for the door on his way out. "Dave! C'mere, will you?" Carol, he could see, was beginning to look a bit balky; she clearly saw what he had in mind, and just as clearly didn't care for the idea.

"Yo... what's up, boss?"

"You fixed Dr Weaver's car a few months back, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So you would know something about choosing good cars?"

"Well, I don't wanna brag, but--" Luka interrupted Dave's threat to begin blowing his own horn.

"Okay. Carol is wanting to buy a used car. Would you be willing to help her find something?

"Sure, sure. My middle name is 'Used Cars', after all."

"I thought it was 'Automotive Repair'," Kerry snidely interjected, without looking up from her perusal of requisition forms (forms to order forms, she thought... somebody in bureaucracy obviously had a strange sense of humor). Luka kicked her, very gently, under the counter - barely a nudge with his foot, against her ankle - but the glare he caught out of the corner of his eye, over the top of her glasses, promised retribution, *later*.

"That's still one up on me," Luka cheerfully admitted to Dave. "I'm helpless when it comes to cars."

"Luka, you're a *guy*," Carol protested. "How can you *not* know anything about cars?" He patted back a yawn; he was still several hours away from the end of his shift, and he was more than ready to go home.

"So? You're a woman, and you can't cook," he calmly replied - though he had to admit that she made one hell of an eggnog - which caused Dave to start laughing raucously. He glared at the young resident, who promptly cut off in mid-giggle. "You had something better in mind to do, Dave?"

"Nah, nah," Dave admitted. "C'mon, Carol. We'll hit the El, and go find ya that lemon." Carol looked less than reassured by the idea, and cast a panicked, pleading glance over her shoulder as Dave led her away.

"You realize they're going to kill each other, don't you?" Luka shrugged at Kerry's question, and touched her shoulder gently as he passed behind her; he needed to get to the chart rack anyway, and had wanted an excuse to touch her. It was frustrating to *need* an excuse to touch her in public, but he was willing to go along with what she wanted. The things I do for love, he thought resignedly.

"And you'd be disappointed over Dave meeting such an end?"

"We'd be down a doctor, then. And Dave isn't much, but he isn't the worst we could have." Like Amanda Lee, she refrained from saying - Luka had no way of knowing who "Amanda Lee" was.

"Mm. He does have potential... if he would just pay attention to what he's doing, instead of spending most of his time screwing around and flirting with every woman who comes within range." She laughed softly at the little growl in his voice.

"You're not jealous, are you?" He turned to stare at her.

"*Should* I be jealous of Malucci?" She tried to keep a straight face, but her giggles kept breaking through in little snorts and gasps.

"No, no. Really. I've developed too much of a fondness for 'tall, dark and handsome'."

"Good. You know, there's still some chocolate left over from last Sunday."

"Uh-huh..." she invited him to continue, smiling a little as she nibbled at the end of her pen, but was dismayed when he merely placed one of the small foil-wrapped chocolates in front of her. "What? No dirty talk?"

"I think you already *know* what I want to do, huh?" She heard crinkling, and looked at him... he was unwrapping a kiss. She blushed at the way he smiled at her... slow and lazy, desire all too evident in his eyes, as he popped the chocolate into his mouth. "So you're going to take over Edgar?"

"If you don't mind." He wondered if she had any idea how appealing she looked with that expression on her face; he almost hoped not, because then she'd be completely unstoppable. As it was, she was pretty damned close to it, as far as he was concerned.

"Go. Everything's on the chart - the LP was negative, but we're still waiting on some of the labs."

* * *

She headed for Exam 2, intent on checking over little Edgar. Since his mother was a nurse, up in ICU, she had seen him on previous occasions as he and his mother came and went, but had never actually spoken to the boy. Cute kid, she thought idly, and wondered - once again - what kind of children she and Luka would have... when, or *if*, they ever did. Too much like him, she suspected, and they would both go completely nuts, trying to keep up.

She didn't believe for a moment Luka's claim that he had always been a perfect little angel as a child - for one thing, there was that gleam he got in his eyes when he told that story... very much like the gleam he'd had in his eyes as he calmly agreed with a paranoid patient, while waiting on a psych consult, that yes, he was indeed a KGB agent, with *that* accent. "But I forgot my spy equipment at home," he'd told the patient mournfully. "I'm not a very good spy, you see." She'd been too busy trying not to laugh to pull him aside and tell him to knock it off.

She was pretty sure that his parents must have put the Parents' Curse on him: "May you have children who are *exactly* like you!"... from what he'd told her about Marko, the little boy had been an early manifestation of the "curse". She, on the other hand, while she had probably worried her parents sometimes, had basically been a good kid. Okay, maybe not *that* good, but how much trouble could a girl get into, when she wore leg braces and walked with crutches? Though she had sure been good at *thinking up* ways to get into trouble... if the jocks had bothered to ask her, for instance, she could have told them how to steal the principal's Buick and park it in the gym *without* getting caught and suspended, en masse.

When Edgar saw her enter the room, though, he gave her what Malucci called the "hairy eyeball". "What's she got? What's that stick?" he wailed, and Conni tried - unsuccessfully - to get him settled down as Kerry also tried to calm him, her hands out in a "peace, no weapons" gesture. "Get her away from me! Don't let her touch me! *No*!" And he suddenly squirmed out of Conni's arms, and was running out of the room, blowing past Kerry, who quickly turned and followed him out of the room. He was long gone, of course. Damn.

So much for pediatrics, she told herself mockingly, thinking of Doug's long-ago gentle praise for the way she'd calmed that little deaf girl after her seizure. Doug had had such a way with kids... mostly, she suspected, because he'd never really grown up, himself. And at the same time, both Luka and Peter had their own way with kids - both men were completely straightforward with the children they encountered.

* * *

Luka smiled as Kerry went in to examine Edgar - she showed her maternal streak at odd times - but lost the smile when he heard the boy shrieking, and saw him bolt from the room. Kerry emerged a moment later, looking shaken, and he touched her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." He nearly bent to kiss her on the cheek, but recovered in time. Randi didn't miss the hastily-aborted movement, though.

Edgar wasn't terribly hard to find - Luka just went in the general direction the child had gone, and occasionally poked his head into rooms and offices to ask them if they'd seen a small boy in hospital pajamas, and finally found himself in the cafeteria. Edgar was sitting at a table by himself, just finishing a bowl of tapioca pudding.

He dropped to his haunches next to Edgar - with the boy sitting in the chair, he was looking slightly up at Edgar - and said something in Croatian. "What did you say?" Edgar demanded, in the same suspicious tone he'd used when confronted with Kerry and her crutch.

"I said, you're a very naughty boy for running off like that and scaring Dr. Weaver. C'mon. I'll take you back to your room." He didn't wait for an answer, but slung Edgar over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, so the boy dangled upside down. As Luka had expected, the boy began to giggle and he made sure to bounce Edgar a little as he walked... making a slight detour to take Edgar's dish to the conveyor belt that took dirty dishes back to the kitchen area. He knew they must make a funny sight: he, one of the tallest people at County, carrying such a small child in such an undignified manner... especially the way Edgar was laughing. He returned to Exam 2, and detached Edgar - who seemed ready for another lap of the ER - from his shoulder, and put him in the bed.

"Now. You stay there. I'll be back later to have a look at you." He hesitated, then, "Behave, and I'll take you for another ride another time, like I just did."

"Do you have any kids?" The question came right out of the blue, and Luka felt as though he'd been struck.

"I did. Once," he said quietly, surprised into candor.

"What happened to them?" Edgar was disappointed - new kids to play with were always welcome, as far as he was concerned, and he liked the funny way this doctor talked... kids who talked like that would have been a nice change.

"They were ki-- they died." Edgar didn't seem to noticed Luka's sudden tension, or mid-sentence change in direction. Conni noticed, though.

"Oh. That's too bad," Edgar said. He didn't really understand "died", aside from that it was something that his mom's patients sometimes did, but he knew it was a bad thing. Except the ones where the grownups shook their heads and said things like "all for the best", and talked about vegetables... he *hated* eating *his* vegetables, so he knew that was a bad thing, too.

"Yeah. Too bad," he echoed, slightly dazed, but gamely tried to recover. "Stay put," he ordered, with more vigor than he felt, and - after ordering a saline IV drip for the child (Edgar's spinal tap had come up negative for meningitis, but his labwork indicated possible kidney problems... they were going to try rehydrating him with saline and a little potassium, and see how he did from there) - left the room.

He wanted to laugh, when he found himself back in the x-ray room - what was it about this room that drew him when he was upset?

* * *

Meanwhile, Dave and Carol were looking at cars... and coming close to physical violence in the process. "I dunno how this guy keeps in business - I haven't see anything yet that's worth your time." Luka had casually mentioned a car lot that was run by a guy he knew, where he had bought his own car, and they had gone to check it out. Dave wasn't too thrilled about the idea of buying a car from a guy with a name like "Herb", but he supposed that as long as it was a *good* car, Carol would be okay. Not that he'd actually *seen* any good cars here so far.

"Not that we haven't *already* spent half the day looking," Carol groused.

"Look, Carol, we can get the very next thing you see. 'Course, it'll probably break down the moment you get it 500 yards from the lot, and *I'll* wind up pushing it somewhere to wait for a tow truck, but hey! Whatever you wanna do. Your money."

"I didn't even *ask* you to come," Carol continued, ignoring Dave.

"Yeah, I know you'd rather have Dr Kovac with you instead of me. Then you could get your crappy little lemon-mobile, and spend the rest of the day makin' googly-eyes at Dr. Kovac."

"I do *not* make 'googly-eyes' at Dr. Kovac." The hell she didn't, Dave thought irritably - he could see the way she stared at the guy sometimes. Shoot, most of the women stared at Dr Kovac. (Dave had even seen Yosh sneaking cautious peeks at Kovac once... he'd been both amused and confounded by the sight.) He was realistic enough, though, to know that even if the guy wasn't around, the women wouldn't magically transfer their attentions to him. It'd be *great*, but it wasn't going to happen.

"Well, ya sure got a bug up your butt about *something*." Dave was even blunter than usual, and Carol shot him that disgusted look that he had grown to know so well; he should, considering that he had put it there so often in the time he'd been at County. Carol reminded him so much of his oldest sister, Maria, that it seemed natural to torment her... whether he was calling her from the pay phone to get his tests ordered, or making up a counter-rhyme around his sign-out time, she was dependably annoyable.

"Gawd, Dave, why do you have to be even more of a prick than usual?" she snarled. "Hey, here's one. A, uh, '91 Mercury Sable...." She pointed at a small beige station wagon with streamers decorating its antenna. Dave made a "yuck" face behind her back, but went closer for a good look.

"Speakin' a' stuff that's probably gonna break down immediately," he muttered. "Hey!" He hailed one of the salesman, who had been shadowing them. "Pop the hood on this baby. I wanna see what's in there."

"Sir, all our cars are in the finest--"

"Just do it." Dave dropped his usual playful attitude, and switched to the one that had helped earn him a juvenile record back home. The salesman gulped and opened the front door of the car, and fiddled with a switch. "All righty," Dave mumbled, as he raised the hood the rest of the way and began looking around. The salesman was staring at him suspiciously, as though he might be working on installing a car bomb. He rejected the car quickly... heaven help the sucker dumb enough to buy this heap! "Hey," he called to the saleman. "You got anything around here that *ain't* a piece of crap?"

The salesman began to go into his "all of our cars are in the finest condition" spiel again, but Dave cut him off.

"Forget it, Mac. C'mon, Carol. I know a guy." She raised her eyebrows.

"I'll just *bet* you do," she told him sarcastically, and he gasped in indignation.

"*'Scuse* me? You sayin' that just because I talk this way, my friends are all criminals?" Actually, he was pretty sure that most of the guys from the old neighborhood *had*, in fact, chosen to pursue fairly disreputable careers, but that wasn't the point. "No, I was gonna suggest a buddy of mine who runs a used car lot."

"Better than these, I hope? And *legal*?"

"Couldn't be any *worse*," Dave pointed out. "And yeah, Phil's stuff is all legal." Carol sighed impatiently.

"Fine. Let's go." And they headed for the nearest El stop.

* * *

Kerry was startled to see Mark coming in, accompanied by his father... who wasn't looking very well. "Mark? I thought this was your day off."

"It is. This is a 'busman's holiday'." He'd picked up the phrase from Elizabeth, although she was becoming more and more Americanized in *her* habits and speech every day. "My dad's a little wheezy and feverish this morning," he told her quietly, but David heard anyway.

"It's just a little cough!" he protested, and Mark turned to glare at him.

"Dad, I just want to get you checked out here. Conni, can you take my dad to... uh..." he glanced at the board, to see what looked good, "Curtain area three, and get him set up with an IV and a pulse-ox? I'll be right in."

"Sure thing, Dr Greene," she told him gently. He hadn't made any formal announcement of what was wrong with his father, but Randi had heard in the cafeteria from the desk clerk in Pedes, who'd heard it from the radiology tech who'd processed the films, that Mark's father was extremely ill - the tech had said that it looked like very advanced lung cancer.

Conni's uncle had died ten years ago, of lung cancer that had spread to his mouth and throat, and she shuddered now at the memory of seeing Uncle Arthur in that hospital bed at the end. Chemotherapy and radiation treatments - ultimately unsuccessful - had made him bald and nauseated, and the futile surgeries to remove the tumors had left him with only part of a face and breathing through a tracheostoma. She hadn't actually seen it, but her mother had told her that Arthur kept right on smoking to the last... holding that damn cigarette up to the trach ring to inhale - Conni had quit smoking that day, and kept a trach ring taped up inside her locker door as a reminder to *stay* quit.

She didn't tell David Greene any of that, of course, just got him settled and fixed up with an IV and a pulse-ox monitor on his finger.

Meanwhile, Kerry smiled sadly at Mark. "It's not just a little cough, is it?"

"Uh, no."

"Cancer?" Mark nodded, quickly and awkwardly. "I'm so sorry. You're looking after him at home?"

"Yeah. Uh, I'm going to be needing to take more time off from work, I don't know how much--"

"Whatever you need, Mark. Just let me know when *you* know what you need, okay?" She started to turn away, then stopped and faced him again. "And... if you need any supplies for taking care of your father at home..." she smiled again, "just don't let me *see* it. There are some empty boxes in the lounge." She crutched away from him this time, and Mark watched her go, a little shocked.

It was, he thought, so rare to see her like this. He was used to the Kerry who was a martinet, who enthusiastically enforced even the most petty rules... the Kerry who backbit, and undercut colleagues. Maybe Susan had been right, in one of the last letters he'd received from her (she'd stopped writing nearly two years ago... but he hadn't been very regular about keeping in touch, either). He'd been complaining, once again, about the way that power seemed to have gone to Kerry's head... and Susan had - in what had seemed like an enigmatic non sequitur - commented that the woman could be *very* surprising at times.

"She surprises *everybody* at times, Mark," she'd written, underlining "everybody" three times. "Just when you think you've figured out what she's all about, and how she's going to react to something, and you've assumed that she's the bad guy, suddenly you turn around and find that she's been on your side all along, and that she was *never* the villain of the piece. Just have patience, Mark, okay?" They'd exchanged a few more letters after that, with increasingly long intervals between letters on both sides, and then nothing more.

* * *

"So what *is* your middle name?" They'd got off the train about five minutes ago, and were now heading for the lot that *Dave's* friend ran. Carol's question took Dave completely by surprise.

"Huh?" Oh, brilliant rejoinder, Malucci, he thought. Just a regular silver-tongued devil, aintcha? Carol laughed.

"Well, I'm pretty sure your mother didn't *really* give you the middle name 'Used Cars' or 'Automotive Repair'. What is it, *really*?"

"You're gonna laugh," he warned her.

"No, I won't. I swear." He mumbled something that she didn't catch. "What?" He groaned, and covered his face with his hands - the almost-childlike motion looked out of place on him, especially when he walked over to a nearby streetlight pole and thumped his head against the metal a few times, in frustration. That earned them puzzled glances from several passersby, and Carol made placating gestures in their direction. "It's okay! It's okay, um, he's a... he's a street performer!" She figured that probably sounded better than "He's a lunatic doctor who works at the hospital with me!"

There was a small, empty cardboard box on its side, near her feet, and she quickly righted it. Some of the passersby nodded in comprehension, and drew closer, dropping coins in the box as Dave rolled his eyes and tossed up his hands in frustration, then kicked the pole, screaming, "Oh, fer cryin' out loud, Carol!"

"Isn't he great?" Carol prompted the small gathering they'd drawn. Some of them dutifully applauded, and more coins found their way into the impromptu collection box before the people gradually drifted away again. Carol picked through the offerings, and snarled "Very funny!" when she saw the cigarette butt that someone had thrown in when she wasn't looking, but finally gave a little victory cheer. "Dave... *Dave*! Lunch is on me. Or at least, it's on me up to about five bucks worth." He kicked the pole one more time for good measure, and turned back to her.

"What?"

"That little light-pole thing you just did - check it out." She waved the box under his nose, and smiled at the gleam of interest in his eyes, as he saw the money.

"Hey, cool. You think maybe if I did it again--"

"No, Dave. Let's not push our luck, okay? It's not exactly my ambition to get arrested for panhandling - let's just go get something to eat."

"Great, I'm starving."

"Yeah," she laughed, "it was probably all that exercise just now. Hey, there's a hot dog stand."

"Mmmm, slaughter room sweepings with all the trimmings... yum yum! Bring it on!" Carol giggled as Dave rubbed his middle in anticipation.

* * *

"Hey, Kerry?" She turned at the sound of Carter's voice.

"Yes, John?"

"I've got an old guy who collapsed while we were getting his wife settled in, and I wanna admit him."

"Mm-hm... who's his provider?"

"Blue Beacon."

"Okay... they contract with New Western. You'll need to transfer him."

"Well... that's the thing. I just admitted his wife to the ICU, and--"

"They're not going to allow it. Is he stable for transfer?"

"He's dehydrated." Oh, jeez... Kerry thought, I am really *not* in the mood for this with Carter!

"Rehydrate him."

"His potassium's a little low."

"Replenish it."

"And he's anemic."

"Is he bleeding?" Did he think this was some kind of fucking negotiation game? It was obvious, from the very minor conditions he was mentioning, that he *did* seem to think that the matter was open to negotiation.

"Well, no--"

"It's chronic, then. *Transfer* him," she growled.

"But he'd rather stay with his wife." Kerry sighed.

"Okay. And would he rather pay $2000 a day, because his insurance won't cover his stay here? Ship him out, Carter."

"Well.... uh... I'm off pretty soon, and--" She snatched the chart out of his hand, and issued the Stare Of Death. "Um, okay. Uh, I'll just... uh... be over there...." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Could be worse, she supposed... she could be Carol, and stuck with Dave for company.

* * *

"You're *sure* about this one, Dave? You're sure it's okay?" Dave slammed the hood shut on the blue Volvo station wagon with a soft grunt.

"It's not pretty, Carol, but this is a good machine."

"Aren't Volvos Swedish? Randi said something about how I shouldn't get a Swedish car."

"What's Betsy talkin' about *now*?" Carol had no idea why he sometimes referred to Randi as "Betsy", but figured there were probably just things about Malucci that she *didn't* want to know.

"Uh... something about high suicide rates in Sweden, I don't know." She shook her head - Randi was another person she didn't understand, and wasn't sure she *wanted* to understand.

"Aaah, I wouldn't worry about it. Long as ya stay away from the Ingmar Bergman films, ya should be okay. You seem like you got it together pretty well - you're doin' pretty good, considering ya got two kids."

"Thanks, Dave." She sounded surprised... partly because she *was* surprised. She hadn't expected him to be such a help... and kind of sweet - she was used to him being, well, a *jerk*. She impulsively leaned over and kissed his cheek, and was promptly horrified. "That *never* happened."

"No shit." Carol sniffed indignantly, and moved away from him... she'd been trying to be *nice* to him, after all! "Oh, come on, Carol. That's not what I meant." She folded her arms, and moved another few steps away from him, then turned her head to look at him.

"Well, you *did* help me pick out a good car. Unless, of course, you're getting a kickback from Phil. I know!" she said suddenly.

"Know what?"

"I bet your middle name is 'Sebastian'! Am I right? No? Um... how about 'Maria'?" She'd encountered the occasional Hispanic boy in the ER who had that unlikely name, but Dave shook his head again, and shuddered slightly. "It's not 'Rumplestiltskin', is it?" He rolled his eyes at that last try, and made a "duh" face at her.

"Ohhhhhh!" It's 'Auxentius', all right? You *happy*?" Carol *tried* to hold back the snort of laughter, but failed miserably, especially when she saw the abject misery on Dave's face. That just set her off, and she started roaring with laughter, leaning against the side of the car for support.

"How 'bout you, Carol?" Her laughter skidded to a halt and piled up in a nasty collision, with multiple casualties.

"Whuh... what about me?"

"Your name. Didn't I hear you say once that you're Orthodox?" Carol glared at him.

"Yeah, but..." Dave chuckled.

"Yeah but, Carol. C'mon, what is it? Something bad? It's something *really* bad, I bet!"

"Okay... but if you tell *anybody*, I am going to... to..." She thought for a moment. "You are going to do *every* one of your patients' NG tubes," she began ticking off on her fingers. "You will start every IV, you will do every single one of the jobs that you *normally* hand off to the nurses, because if you tell another living soul, I will tell *all* the nurses that they are to give those jobs *right* back to you!" She paused a moment, to let that one sink in, and then delivered the coup de grace:"*And* I will tell everybody at County that you are David Auxentius Malucci!" Dave gulped, but nodded.

"Not a word to anyone. I swear. Scout's honor." Carol glared at him, trying to stay mad, but Dave was like foot fungus: he grew on a person. Not that she wasn't wishing for a large can of Tinactin about now, but it was hard not to be caught up in his eager-puppy enthusiasm sometimes.

"You were never a Boy Scout. That's the lousiest salute I've ever seen."

"Yeah I was. My mom made us go."

"Ha! I bet you went off with your buddies, and played poker with your dues."

"Hmmph! Shows what you know, Carol." She grinned at him, and lifted an eyebrow. "It was pool," he admitted sheepishly. "And how do *you* know so much about Boy Scout salutes, anyway?" She cleared her throat, and suddenly found her own fingernails supremely interesting.

"Uh...."

Dave snickered, and opened the passenger door. "Let's go, Carol."

* * *

Kerry felt a prickling at the back of her neck as she examined some x-rays - somehow she suspected that a fractured wrist was *not* going to be enough to convince Mr Niedermeyer to give up skateboarding... at least he wore *some* safety gear! - and turned just in time to see Edgar duck back behind a rack of supplies. He wasn't as quick as before, not with an IV stand slowing him down, but he still got back under cover fairly quickly. She smiled, and made a few notes on Greg Niedermeyer's chart, then tucked the x-rays back into the envelope and carried them in the general direction of the front desk. But first....

She caught up with Luka in the lounge, just as he was about to head home; he was munching on a doughnut. "How's Edgar doing?"

"Ah, he's doing well. His mother's on her way down, and she'll keep an eye on him for a little bit and then either take him home or have us admit him. Depends on how his second round of labs turn out."

"I see. Um, you have a little powdered sugar on your lip... let me get that." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, quickly licking at the lip in question; he sighed happily and wrapped his arms around her waist, then deepened the kiss. When it ended, he smiled a little unsteadily.

"I will never think of powdered sugar the same way again."

"Good. Hey... you said there was still some chocolate left from last week?"

"Uh... yeah." She simply smiled and winked at him, and left the lounge; he watched her go, and sighed - it was going to be a long wait until the end of her shift! He shook his head and opened his locker to get his coat.

* * *

She dropped off the x-rays and headed in the direction of Curtain Area Two, to check on a young asthma patient... maybe this one wouldn't be so freaked out by her crutch (at the very least, she thought, the child wouldn't be able to make a very speedy getaway). On her way there, she passed Exam 2 - the door had been propped open, and she could see Leah Braley moving around in there, tending to Edgar. He looked up and spotted her, and grinned; she waggled her fingers in a friendly greeting, and he returned the wave. Aw... suddenly she felt a little better about the idea of having a child who took after his - or her - father.

* * *

"Afternoon, ma'am, we're here to pick up a patient for transfer... uh... Frank Pooler." Kerry looked up at the transport techs who wore the uniform of the ambulance company, and one of them handed her some paperwork. Ah... paperwork... the juju of Western bureaucracy! She traded him a copy of Mr Pooler's chart for it - the mystical bargain had been sealed, and now Frank Pooler would be whisked away to a different hospital from where his wife was staying. American insurance could be a real *bitch* sometimes.

"Oh... yes. Right this way." The man had been brought downstairs, to wait for transport, and she followed them. Mr Pooler looked up as the three of them entered the room; Kerry had expected him to be upset, but he seemed to be more... philosophical about it.

"I know how hard Dr Carter tried to keep me here, and I really appreciate it."

"Well, it's sometimes difficult with the HMOs...." Her voice trailed off, she knew how fundamentally ridiculous that "explanation" was - once again, she was separating a family... the very same thing Luka had railed at her about just a few months ago - but Mr Pooler didn't seem to hold it against her.

"Could you just get a message to my wife? Her name's Irene Pooler, she's in the ICU, tell her I'll call her when I get settled over there."

"Well, there aren't phones in the rooms, you can't call her directly, but if you call the desk you can ask them how she's doing."

"Okay! And thank you again for *everything* you've done for us - we appreciate it!" He called out the last as the techs bundled him into the back of the ambulance and shut the doors, and she watched as it pulled away. No sarcasm... he'd been honestly grateful for the care he and his wife had received today.

* * *

"I couldn't do a thing about it, Luka." She took another bite of her fettucini Alfredo, and looked up at him as he studied his spaghetti carbonara before digging in. "I... I had to split up that couple, and the only other choice was to stick him with an enormous hospital bill that he'd never be able to pay."

"I know."

"Do you? You didn't seem to, back in January." He put down his fork and just looked at her for a while. At the last minute, she'd put on the same purple scarf she'd worn last Sunday... he'd teased her gently and offered to make the scarf *necessary*, and they nearly hadn't made it back out of the house for dinner.

"Do you want me to be angry at you now?" He wasn't threatening, just curious - she seemed to be looking for someone to punish her for *something*... for what, he wasn't sure, but it was almost as if she was frustrated that nobody had pushed her into any serious battles today. Sure, there'd been that minor argument with Carter that she'd told him about, but apparently he had given in to her fairly easily.

"No! I- I don't want you to be angry at me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kerry. I won't abandon you. Even when we argue, I'll always come home to you."

"You promise?"

"I swear. Now... jedi."

"Yes, dear."

"I love you, you know that."

"Yes." She let him wait a few seconds before she continued, "And I love you."

"Good."

POST-GAME WRAPUP:

The '91 Mercury Sable was, of course, the heap that Carol was dumb enough to buy in "The Fastest Year".