TITLE: Running with Scissors (Or, Freudy Cat), part 1/4
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING: PG-13/R
KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; angst; blah-de-blah-de-blah
LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Quo Vadis?"
TIMELINE: "Rock, Paper, Scissors"
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.
SERBO-CROATIAN: "Ridokose [with a crossed 'd'] osobe! Mnogi ih je!" =
"Redheads! There are too many of 'em!"
SYNOPSIS: Redheaded babes, black-and-white cookies, and players for the
pink team are among the elements in this latest installment.
SPOILERS: For "Rock, Paper, Scissors"... to some extent.
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; Should Auld
Acquaintance
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Miesque and Hollie for feedback and input.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER: Mark had surgery to remove a brain tumor, as
pregnant fiancee Elizabeth worried; Kerry learned that she was also
pregnant after a friendly chat with Elizabeth led her to take (and
"fail") a pregnancy test; Luka and Kerry were shocked by the abrupt
reappearance of a woman from his past; Peter helped the girlfriend of
his deceased nephew.




Luka strolled outside, into the ambulance bay, and almost immediately
shoved his hands into his coat pockets... brrr! He spotted a station
wagon illegally pulled in near the door, though still running, with a
heavily bundled figure bending down to reach into the back seat, and
frowned. "Hey!" The figure turned, and he saw that he'd hailed Nadira,
who pulled a carton out of the station wagon and smiled at him.

"Hi! Are we in the way?"

"You're not supposed to be there, no. But I guess as long as you can
move out of the way for incoming ambulances, you should be okay." Nadira
smiled, and gestured at the woman behind the wheel, a rather
Teutonic-looking blonde who eyed Luka suspiciously. "Luka, this is my
girlfriend Patty. Patty, this is Luka. He's, um..." Her voice trailed
off uncertainly.

"I'm an old friend," he supplied helpfully, offering a slight - though
friendly - wave to Patty. "You're getting moved in to your office?"

"Yep. Getting all the homey little touches in there." Luka went for the
back door of the station wagon, to get a box. "Oh, you don't have to..."

"If I help you, you can get done a lot faster. And then Patty - hi,
Patty - can move this thing... park it and come inside, whatever."

"All right. You can get that box of books, then."

"Oh, *good*!" He made a show of shaking out his arms, but went for the
indicated box and hefted it without much trouble. "Lead the way." They
went back inside, and Luka bent down slightly to press the call button
for the elevator. "So have you and Patty been together long?" He'd
switched to Bosnian, without really thinking about it, and she followed
his lead. The elevator arrived, and they got aboard.

"For a few months. I've known her for a couple of years, though. You've
really gone grey since I last saw you." He shrugged.

"Mostly I've just quit dyeing it." He looked up as the elevator opened,
and they stepped out. "Which one's yours?"

"This way." Somehow he wasn't surprised to see that she had Kim's old
office. "So what are *you* up to, these days?"

"Hm... not much. I'm an attending in the emergency department.
Engaged--" Her eyebrows shot up.

"To that redhead I saw with you last week? She's *cute*!"

"Nadira, *please*. Don't say anything about *that* to her, okay?" Nadira
frowned.

"You haven't got yourself mixed up with some homophobe, have you?"

"No, she's not a- a homophobe. She just... had a bad experience. That's
all."

"Oh? What kind of 'bad experience'? Put the box down over there." He
shook his head as he set the box of books down on the top of her desk.

"That's not my story to tell, it's hers." Nadira gestured dismissively.

"Pff. As long as she and I can work together like professionals, I don't
really care *what* her story is." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay. I just don't want to be dealing with you two arguing all
the time."

"And you think we'll argue?" He rolled his eyes.

"Don't you psychoanalyze *me*, Nadira Babic! Let's go downstairs and get
the rest of those boxes, so you and Patty can go home, and *I* can go
home." Nadira grinned mischievously, but stood up.

"Am I keeping you from your cute redhead?" He rolled his eyes again,
wearily.

"I am being *nice*, and helping you. If you'd prefer that I didn't..."

"Oh, hell, I appreciate your help, Luka. I wouldn't have been able to
carry that box up here by myself!"

A few trips later, they'd managed to transfer the contents of the
station wagon to Nadira's office, and surveyed the resultant controlled
chaos - thirteen boxes, stacked more or less neatly around the room.
"Would you like help unpacking?"

"Oh, no. Thank you. That can wait for tomorrow, I think. You were
heading for the El?"

"Yeah. There's a stop near our house."

"'Our'? So you *are* living with your cute redhead!" He sighed
disgustedly.

"Stop calling her that. Her name is Kerry Weaver, okay?"

"Okay. It's just, we can give you a ride home."

"Just so I'm not taking you out of your way..."

"Forget it. You *more* than cut in half the time it would've taken me to
get everything moved. It's the least we can do. C'mon." They went back
downstairs, and found that Patty had moved the station wagon for
paramedics. "Hey, Patty," she breezed, quickly returning to English for
her partner's benefit, "We're going to give Luka a ride home, okay?"

Patty turned out to be a bit more cheerful and talkative than she'd
seemed earlier, and greeted Luka with a smile as he got in the back seat
of the car and gave them Kerry's address. "Nutty said she saw you the
other night."

"Yeah. My girlfriend had, uh, just given me some good news, and we were
returning to work." They hadn't yet decided on when they wanted to make
a formal announcement of Kerry's pregnancy - as usual, it was Kerry's
stubbornness, her wish not to be fussed over (and, he rather thought,
her fear that she *wouldn't* be fussed over if everybody else knew),
that was the holdup - so he didn't want to reveal exactly *what* his
good news was.

"Girlfriend? You didn't mention *that*, Nutty," Patty said, puzzled, and
Nadira shrugged.

"I forgot. It'd been a long enough time since I'd seen Luka, I barely
noticed there was anyone with him."

Luka raised an eyebrow at the lie, but said nothing about it, choosing
instead to ask, "Have you had any luck contacting your family? I know
you'd told me there were a *few* of them who weren't--"

"Oh, yes. I still haven't heard anything about my parents or any of the
others, but I found out recently - from one of his friends - that my
older brother was killed by a sniper... inside his own apartment, of all
places!"

"Through the window, huh?" Despite himself, he was impressed by the aim
that sniper must have had - shooting somebody indoors, through a window,
wasn't exactly an impossible kind of shot, but it wasn't an *easy* one,
either.

"Yeah. He got careless, I guess. He'd been hanging around some people
from the BBC - journalists - and was having an affair with one of them."
She sniffed delicately. "I guess *some* standards don't apply, when it
comes to men!" Patty groaned, and Luka guessed that the subject was
something of a dead horse with them: frequently beaten.

"This is your place?" Patty had pulled up in front of the townhouse, and
Luka nodded at her question.

"Yes. Thanks for the ride, Patty. I'll see you tomorrow, Nadira?"

"Yeah. Thanks again for your help." He got out and closed the door
behind him firmly, waving as Patty drove away.

When he got in, he found Kerry napping on the couch, with the stereo
playing one of her jazz CDs at a soft volume; naps had turned out to be
the best way for her to get sufficiently rested to get up at her normal
time. She stirred and mumbled, and blinked up at him, standing over her.
"Hey," she murmured, and reached up to pat the side of his leg. He
smiled, and crouched down to look her in the eye and touch her face.
"Y'just get in?"

"Mm-hm. I got a ride home." He hesitated a moment, then added, "With
Nadira and her girlfriend." He waited for her to grasp *exactly* what he
was telling her, and wasn't disappointed.

"Hmmmm? *Oh*. Okay." She was momentarily startled, then reassured, by
his oblique revelation that she didn't have to worry about Nadira's
reappearance, after all.

"How's Gabe doing?" He vaguely recalled that she'd mentioned that she
was planning to drop in and visit her former mentor after her shift, and
she grimaced.

"Worse. It seems like he keeps losing ground, even on his new meds.
Isaiah's having a harder and harder time keeping him from wandering off.
A-and I feel awful, for wishing that he'd just...." She trailed off and
gulped, unable to say the words aloud.

"You wish he'd die?" He spoke softly, almost as though he was trying not
to get God's attention *that* way, and reached for her hand; she
sniffled, and nodded. He sighed, and kissed her fingertips. "It's okay
to feel that way, beba. The man you knew once is all but gone, huh?" He
changed the subject abruptly. "Is your nausea any better - have you
eaten anything tonight?"

"Um, I haven't been feeling as sick lately, but I *am* nearly to the end
of my first trimester. I don't think I've eaten anything since lunch...
I crashed out - lay down for a nap - the moment I got home." She yawned,
covering her mouth politely.

"Okay. I can fix something, if you'd like? A sandwich, maybe, or some
yogurt?" She smiled sleepily.

"Mm... I don't suppose you brought home any Chinese food, did you?" He
pretended to pat himself down, then shrugged broadly, displaying his
empty hands; she laughed. "Pickles and honey, then? Please?"

"Sure, sure." He went to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later
with a plate of dill pickles and a honey bear, then sat next to her on
the couch and tried to ignore what she was preparing to eat.

"What kind of cravings did Danijela have... if you don't mind me
asking?" She squeezed some honey onto the end of the first pickle, and
crunched into it.

"Hm? No, I don't mind. Um," he paused and laughed softly as he leaned
back, wrinkling his nose, "she had a really awful one. Raw onions and
raisins. I, uh, used to tease her that the kids would be born with
onions in their breath." He glanced over at Kerry, and saw the
speculative gleam in her eye. "Please don't consider taking up *that*
craving. Think of your patients... think of *me*. Very funny," he
grumbled, when she burst out laughing.

"Onions and raisins... sounds dreadful. You're sure you don't want some
of this?" She brandished a piece of honey-covered pickle, causing him to
wince a little. "It's very good... sort of a crunchy, sweet'n'sour
treat."

"No... no. That's okay," he muttered, eyeing the pickle a little
queasily and prompting Kerry to grin again. The next six months were
evidently going to be *very* interesting!

* * *

"Hey, Chief. Hey, Dr Kovac," Dave greeted them as they came in together
the next morning and headed into the lounge, then went back to his
life-or-death struggle with the computer. It had been giving him trouble
all day, refusing to surrender records and lab results, and he muttered
a few dire-sounding curses of his own at it. He didn't actually speak
Italian, but he'd listened to Nona 'Cesca on the phone, giving somebody
hell over something, and he'd picked up some of the basics.

He'd just finished an uncomplimentary analysis of the computer's
ancestry, and had just moved on to commenting on its choice of sexual
positions, when he realized that he had an audience. Judging by the
amused look on the pretty redhead's face, she'd probably been standing
there for several minutes, just observing him. "You're going about it
all wrong, you know."

"Uh? Excuse me? And you are--?"

"Monica Weaver. Kerry's sister." Checking her out was habit for Dave,
and he was aware of her ego-bruising amusement as he did so.

"Oh. Uh. I, uh, see the resemblance."

"Neat trick," she smirked, and Dave simply stared at her, bemused by the
comment.

"So you're a, uh, model?"

"No. Computer trouble-shooter." With that, she reached out and tapped a
few keys on the keyboard, and the computer instantly rolled over and
smiled for her. "Is my sister here yet?" He nodded wordlessly, and
nudged the door of the lounge open just enough to call in there. "I'll
just be over there," she said vaguely, waving in the general direction
of chairs.

"Hey, uh, Chief? Chief?" She emerged from the lounge, looking slightly
rumpled... and was followed, a moment later, by Dr Kovac, who was
equally rumpled and blushing slightly. Dave preferred not to think about
what they'd probably been doing in there. "Lady out here, says she's
your sister?"

"What?"

"Gorgeous redhead."

"Monica!" Dave started to nod, in response to Dr Weaver's excited cry,
but she'd already crutched away in the direction of the tall woman in
chairs who had struck up a conversation with a female gang member; he
turned instead to Dr Kovac, who was watching the two women
contemplatively.

"So... have you ever met this Monica?"

"No. Kerry's mentioned her a few times, though."

"Pretty hot, isn't she?" Luka turned to look at Dave.

"I hadn't noticed," he replied honestly.

* * *

Nadira stormed through the emergency department, looking for Miss Doctor
Kerry Weaver... cute redhead or no, the woman was really starting to
piss her off! "Calls me down for a consult, and then disappears! What
kind of a place is she running here?"

She barged through the door to the lounge, but found only a slender
tallish woman with bright red hair and the typical redhead's freckles,
wearing a light parka over a t-shirt and jeans, reclined on the sofa and
reading a book. Redheads... redheads... right now she'd be just as happy
never to see another damned redhead in her life! "Ridokose osobe! Mnogi
ih je!" she snarled, and slammed back out through the other door.

* * *

After work, Luka, Kerry and Monica went home - Kerry had insisted that
Monica stay with them for the short time she would be in town - and sat
up most of the night talking. The three of them were on the couch, with
Kerry sandwiched in the middle and looking especially tiny between them.
The remains of their dinner - an especially large order from the local
Thai takeaway - were spread out on the coffee table, and they leaned
forward every once in a while to pick at it. Monica sighed contentedly.
"So my little sister's actually getting married... *and* gonna be a
mommy. God, this is marvellous!"

"Well, you know, Mo, I would have told you sooner... but I had no idea
where to find you. As usual. You never check your e-mail--" Luka cut
Kerry off with a gentle question for their guest.

"Are *you* married, Monica?" Monica glanced at Kerry, a little startled.

"You didn't tell him?" She saw that Luka looked confused, and smiled.
"No, I guess you didn't. I recently broke up with--" Kerry, who'd
awkwardly drawn her feet up under her, squeaked in protest.

"You broke up with Diana? I liked her!"

"She snored! I, uh, also found out she was cheating on me. With Stuart,
our neighbor. They're getting married this summer."

"Aw, Mo..." Kerry put a comforting hand on Monica's shoulder, and Monica
leaned against her sister with a shuddering little sigh.

"'Sokay. Or *will* be. I guess."

"You'll find somebody," Luka tried to reassure her, reaching around
Kerry to pat Monica's head a little awkwardly, and was belatedly aware
of how woefully inadequate and *patronizing* that sounded. Shutting up
now, he thought with a rueful smile.

Monica kinda *liked* this guy. He treated Kerry well, without making a
constant *fuss*, and hadn't even batted an eyelash at finding out that
*she* was gay - it shouldn't matter, but it did seem to matter to some
people - he'd even offered sympathy.

She'd spent most of the day hanging around the hospital, just observing
Kerry's coworkers, and chatting occasionally with the young man she'd
helped with the computer. Nice enough guy, if a tad *confused*.

And the *patients*... now *there* was an interesting lot! There'd been
the woman who Monica had thought - at first - was talking into a cell
phone... until a closer (and cautious) look had revealed that the woman
was speaking urgently into an old brown shoe. A man who was drunk, or
crazy, or possibly *both*, had asked Monica if she'd seen his dog. She'd
barely managed to jump out of the way before he'd whipped out his penis
and began taking an *enormous* piss in the hallway. That had been about
the point that Kerry had suggested that she wait in the lounge, and
Monica had gratefully agreed.

A woman - a doctor, judging from her long white coat - had come through
the lounge at one point while Monica was reading a novel that she'd
found in there. She was tall, dark-complected, exotically *beautiful*,
and steaming mad, and had looked at Monica for only a moment before
muttering something that sounded vaguely like "Ridge o' cosy oh soapy!
Mm yogi ick yeah!" and storming out again. "Oooooookay," had been
Monica's only reaction to that display; she'd wondered if *everybody* in
this place was this strange!

* * *

The phone rang, interrupting a *particularly* sweet dream Cleo'd been
having about Giancarlo Esposito, toaster waffles, vanilla ice cream and
maple syrup. "Gmrll?" Kynesha's excited babbling broke through the last
of her dream haze, and she sleepily rolled her eyes. "Peter, 'sfor you."
She kicked him, just in case the phone hadn't already wakened him, and
handed the phone over to him. She could hear him talking quietly to the
girl, though she was too tired to really care *what* he was saying, and
then he passed the phone back for her to hang up.

"That was Kynesha," he said unnecessarily, as he sat up and began
reaching for clothing. "She got in some trouble at the halfway house,
and left."

"And you're gonna go pick her up," Cleo replied unenthusiastically, as
she watched him. "And then what, bring her back *here*? You remember
what happened *last* time."

"Cleo, baby...." She narrowed her eyes at him, and scowled.

"Ya know what? Just *go*, Peter. Go do your 'knight in shining armor'
number again, huh?" She rolled over, and pulled the covers back up over
herself. Peter sighed and shook his head, and went out. She just didn't
*understand*....

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the couch downstairs in front of the TV, which was
turned down to a rather low volume as some late-night talk show on WTTW
went on and on about some art museum on Michigan that she'd never been
to, and had little interest in visiting. She wasn't really watching it
anyway... it was just background noise, accompaniment to the chaos of
her thoughts, her worries about Mark. A >creak< on the stairs startled
her, and she whirled about to see that he was slowly descending...
clutching tightly to the banister as he shakily advanced.

"Mark, go back to bed. Please. I don't want you to fall and hurt
yourself."

"I woke up, and you weren't there," he complained weakly, as he
continued slowly and doggedly down the stairs.

"All right, then, come here," she told him quietly, and patted the couch
next to her. He trudged wearily over and flopped down, resting his head
in her lap with a tiny sigh.

"Have *you* slept at all?" She frowned at his weary, querulous question,
and stroked his head... trying to be careful of the spot where his skull
had been sawn open and Dr Burke had first extracted the tumor, then
inserted chemotherapy wafers. It had been so... *different* for her -
usually, she was the one performing surgery on somebody *else's* loved
one, and not really thinking about what kind of role her patient played
in the lives of other people. With Mark, in New York, though... she'd
been on the other side of it all. She'd seen his treatment with the eye
of the patient's family, seen the way that the techs and the nurses and
the doctors talked down to them, ignored them, patronized them. Worse,
she'd realized that they'd been treated precisely the way that *she*
tended to treat patients and their families; it had been a rather
disturbing revelation for her

"No. I don't think I have. I, uh, I'm just not very sleepy right now."

* * *

Peter opened the front door to Cleo's house, and gestured to Kynesha to
go in ahead of him. That had been *wild*... and not in a good way,
either. He'd found her on the corner, right where she'd said she'd be,
and she'd scrambled into the car, but then several young men had charged
the car. "Drive! Drive!" she'd screamed, looking around in a panic. One
of them had thrown a brick as the car leaped forward, and Peter
instinctively - if ineffectually - ducked as the rear window smashed.
Once they were away from the corner, leaving behind the young men
shaking their fists, Kynesha's panic had seemed to evaporate, and she'd
begun to play with the car's radio. Peter had been too shaken to
question her actions.

"You know where the couch is," Peter grumbled, glancing outside as he
shut the door. Light was beginning to streak up the east, and his day
had already been scheduled more interestingly than he would've
preferred, even *before* Kynesha's phone call.

* * *

Randi watched Dr Kovac and Dr Weaver come in together, and noticed, a
little worriedly, that they seemed to be arguing.

"There's no point in spending hundreds of dollars on a dress I'm only
going to wear *once*. I've got a perfectly good cream suit, for
instance--"

"But a wedding dress should be something *special*!"

"And a suit can't be special?" Randi decided to barge in, before the
argument could go any further.

"Guys! Guys... I hate to interrupt this, but what are you arguing
about?" Luka sighed.

"I'm trying to convince her that she should get something special for
our wedding, instead of- of going through her closet for one of her...
*suits*!"

"It's a waste of money!" Kerry retorted. Randi made an abrupt "time out"
gesture.

"Look. I think I can solve your problem. I have been looking for a
challenge for my Randi-Wear line, and I think a wedding dress would be
*just* the thing! Whaddya think?"

"I think I'm not wild about the idea of a tiger-striped dress," Kerry
said dubiously, and elbowed Luka when he snickered.

"Yeah, but that's the *challenge*!" Randi said excitedly. "Chaste, but
sexy. Discreet, yet alluring..."

"Cheap, but expensive," Luka cracked, and Randi glared at him.

"Hey, all I want is the cost of materials, plus I want Dr Weaver to
model it for photographs. *Pleeeeeeaaaaase*? C'monnnn! We'd be doing
each other a favor!"

"Fine, fine," Kerry said resignedly. "I have to go lie down for a little
bit." Randi was too thrilled by Kerry's acceptance to wonder why she was
coming in early enough to be taking a nap, and clapped her hands
excitedly like a little girl.

"Oh, *good*! I'll put some sketches and ideas together for you to look
at... say, around noon if 'traffic' allows?" Haleh materialized, and
startled Luka by touching his arm.

"Dr Kovac... we need you in Curtain 2."

"Okay. Uh..."

"Give me your coat," Kerry suggested. "I'm headed in the direction of
the lounge anyway, I'll put it in your locker."

"My last excuse," he pretended to grumble, but surrendered his coat to
her and followed Haleh.

* * *

Carter followed Abby into the cafeteria, and watched her fill a *large*
styrofoam cup with coffee. He recognized the way she was staggering
slightly - it wasn't really *that* long ago that *he'd* still been a
hideously overworked med student, after all - and quickly got his own
coffee as she moved on, looking a little dazed with fatigue. As she went
to stand in line and pay the cashier, he set his coffee down and deftly
extracted a five dollar bill from his pocket, thrusting it past her at
the cashier.

She resisted for a moment, but finally sighed and let him pay for her
coffee, as well as his own. He followed her to a table, shoving his
change into his pocket, and plopped himself down in a chair across from
her, watching her with the packets of Sweet'N Low that she'd picked up
when she was getting her coffee. She shook the pink packets briskly,
then ripped them open and poured the sweetener into her coffee, then
stirred it a little more fiercely than strictly necessary before looking
up at him. "Have you told Weaver yet?" He sighed, and took a sip of his
coffee as a delaying tactic.

"I've got a meeting - my evaluation - coming up this morning. I will
tell her afterwards," he assured her.

"You *promise*?"

"Yeah. You know, you shouldn't use so much of that stuff - it causes
cancer in rats!" She smirked at him.

"And in case you haven't noticed, I am *not* a rat!"

"Yeah, but you *squeak* a lot."

"I *WHAT*?!?" she squeaked indignantly, causing Carter to start
giggling.

--
Ellen K. Hursh - simplify addy to reply
"Sometimes I think about two women doing a spell, and
then I do a spell all by myself."--Xander, "Restless"