Flashpoint
Part Two
By Cathy and Clotho
huntersglenn@yahoo.com - clothomoerae@hotmail.com

The characters and situations of ER are the property of Warner Bros, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Great thanks, as always, to Melissa and Alice, our editors - whose comments inspire and encourage us (and occasionally bring us crashing back to earth).



Kerry stood up, and picked up her bag "Sure am." She
walked to the door with Carter, and almost gasped as
she opened it and looked outside. There were limos and
limos, and this was a LIMO. Huge and black. She
turned half-questioning to him - then shrugged and
stepped forward. If this was her transport she wasn't
going to query it.

John was thrilled at the look in Kerry's eyes when she
saw the limo. He had hoped she would be happy to get a
chauffeured ride and she obviously was. "I'll get the
door," he said. As he was locking up the house, he
heard the sound of a car door open and close, and then
the sound of another door being opened. When John
turned around, he saw the driver standing by the
passenger door. John let Kerry get into the car first,
his hand hovering just under her arm in case she
slipped. After she was inside, he turned to the
driver. "Hello, Hank. You made good time getting
here."

Hank smiled. "When Mrs. Carter told me who I was
driving for this evening, I couldn't keep my foot off
the gas. I put a few things in the back for you,
Master John. I hope your lady friend likes them."

John's smiled broadened. "Thanks, Hank, but she's not
a friend in that sense. She's just a friend."

"Yes, sir," Hank replied, even though it was apparent
that he didn't believe John. "The Navy Pier, correct?"

"That's right. And there's no rush to get there."

Hank smiled again. "Yes, sir." After John got into
the car, Hank shut the door and walked around to the
driver's side.

Kerry slipped into the sumptuous back seat. There was
a partition between her and the driver. The
compartment was totally private. The seats were soft
leather, and cool air-conditioning gave off an almost
subliminal hum.

She smiled and reached automatically for her seat belt
- and slipped into it. This would be fun.

Her cotton skirt seemed totally plebian compared to
these surroundings. But it would only be for a short
while; she smoothed it self-consciously over her legs,
making sure the crutch was resting by her seat. All
calm and proper.

John settled into the seat and smiled at Kerry while he
put on his seat belt. "The driver told me that he put
something back here for us. I'm assuming it's food and
drink." John leaned forward and opened a console which
was between two single seats across from them. Inside
the console was a bottle of champagne on ice and a
small plate heaped with raw oysters.

"Wow. Do you like raw oysters?" John asked Kerry as
he held the plate out toward her.

Kerry frowned. Hired limos gave you the food you
ordered. They didn't suddenly sprout oysters and
champagne on a whim. And millionaire or not, she
shouldn't be letting her resident pay for all this.

If Carter had ordered them too, Kerry wasn't sure what
it meant. Was he trying to come on to her? It seemed
an unlikely idea, but - it was raw oysters, and all
that they were supposed to represent.

It seemed churlish to complain though. She frowned
again. "We'll go Dutch on this." That would put it on
an equal footing.

"Dutch?" John asked, confused. "I don't know where
these oysters come from, but you're more than welcome
to have all you want."

Kerry didn't know if Carter was genuinely
mis-interpreting her or being dis-ingenuous. She
looked him straight in the eye. "I'll pay for half of
this."

John shrugged. "Okay. If you wish. I'll have to get
the receipt from Hank. I don't know where he bought it
from." John's arm was beginning to get tired from
holding out the plate. "So, do you want one?" He
wanted one, but it would be rude of him to eat before
Kerry did. If she wanted one at all, that is.

"Hank?" Kerry knew that Carter was friendly - but
having got to know the driver's name already was
remarkable even for him. She picked up the oyster and
ate it. It slithered down her throat deliciously. She
had an idea that going Dutch on these oysters might be
more expensive than she'd anticipated.

John nodded. "Hank. Or Henry, if you prefer. He
likes to be called Hank though. Gamma always calls him
Henry, but then she likes to do things the proper way,
and the proper way is that you address your driver by
his full first name and not by a nickname." John
plucked an oyster off the plate and put it in his
mouth, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing.
"Champagne?" he asked.

"This is your family's limo?" Kerry stopped eating and
stared. She'd thought Carter would hire one. This
being a family car, this being family DRIVER, . . . she
half bit her lip, unsure of what to do.

"No. It's Gamma's car. She wasn't going to use it
tonight, so she said I could borrow it. I think Hank
thought this was a date or something of that nature.
They get excited when they think I'm in love." John
turned from Kerry so she wouldn't see how embarrassed
he was to say that, even though it was true. Occupying
himself with opening the bottle of champagne, John
asked Kerry again, "Do you want a glass of champagne?
It's already nicely chilled."

Oh." If Carter hadn't ordered them, that was
different, better. He was probably just as embarrassed
about it as she was. No need to make an issue of the
expectations behind the oysters then. She smiled.
"Champagne sounds wonderful."

"Can you reach the glasses? They're inside the door."
John used his head to point to the door on the front of
the console while he wrapped a towel around the neck
and top of the bottle and popped the cork. "There
should be napkins in there, too."

Kerry reached forward and found the champagne flutes.
When they banged together they gave off a delicate
chime. Crystal. Of course they'd be crystal in the
matriarch of the Carter family's car. She held them in
turn under the mouth of the bottle, watching it
disgorge its amber bubbles. They frothed up and over
the side of one glass enticingly.

"Uh oh!" John exclaimed, laughing as he tried to catch
the champagne with the towel. He knew his Gamma could
get her carpet cleaned, but he was pretty sure that
Kerry wouldn't want champagne on her skirt. "Got it,"
John triumphantly announced. Then he took his glass
from Kerry and tasted the wine. "This is very good.
I'll bet that Gamma gave it to Hank to put in here.
She's a schemer like that. You don't mind, do you?
About them making the wrong assumption about us?" John
wished it had been the right assumption. Wished he
could lean over and kiss Kerry right now. Maybe even
slowly remove that clingy top which hugged Kerry's
curves so wonderfully and the skirt from her body and
lap his champagne from the hollow of her belly.

John mentally kicked himself for letting himself think
such things about Kerry. This was no place in which to
suddenly sport an erection. Besides, he reminded
himself for the millionth time, she wasn't interested
in him.

Kerry did mind. Or she knew she should mind. She
wanted no one at work to make assumptions like that.
But here and now with amber bubbles and laughing brown
eyes, she found the idea oddly flattering. She sipped
at the glass. "Mmm, if it gets me alcohol like this
she can make all the assumptions she wants."

John laughed again. "Gamma does have good taste in
food and drink. Would you like another oyster?" John
picked up the plate from where he had set it down on
the seat between them. "They are good, aren't they?
But we probably shouldn't eat or drink too much. I can
just see all this coming back up if we go on the
'Tilt-A-Whirl' once we get there."

Kerry grinned as she took an oyster. "So you've got a
weak stomach then." She bit into the delicious tidbit,
feeling a little bit of juice running down her chin.
But with half an oyster in one hand and a glass of
vintage bubbly in the other she had no way of remedying
it.

Kerry tried licking her lips to get rid of the juice,
but her tongue didn't go out far enough. She looked at
the two things in her hands, trying to guess which one
could be disposed of the fastest.

"Here," John grabbed one of the napkins and dabbed
Kerry's chin with it. He wished he was bold enough to
lean over and lick her chin clean, but he wasn't. "I
don't usually get a weak stomach on rides. Just when
I'm nervous. But, I've never gotten on any wild rides
with a stomach full of champagne and oysters." John
grabbed another oyster and popped it into his mouth.
Glancing out the window, he saw they were almost to the
Pier and his heart fell a little with that
realization. He would have liked to have had more time
alone with Kerry like this. It wasn't often that he
got to see a happy-go-lucky Kerry Weaver, and he liked
seeing her this way. He liked it a lot.

"Thanks." Kerry could feel the place where Carter's
fingers had grazed her chin long after they'd returned
to his side of the car and grabbed their own oyster.
Kerry caught herself staring at him, and hastily popped
the second half oyster in her mouth. She followed it
with a sip of the wonderful champagne, and then her
glass was empty. She held it out to Carter, wanting a
refill, and just maybe his hand would graze hers again.

"More? I guess you're not worried about your stomach,
then, are you?" John said as he refilled Kerry's
glass. "Drink fast, cause we're almost there." John
warned Kerry. Taking his own advice, he downed the
rest of his champagne, then set the glass down into the
crushed ice in the champagne bucket.

As if on cue, the car glided to a smooth stop.

Kerry looked around, a little disappointed. They
seemed to have got to Navy Pier very fast. Where
Carter's hand bumped her arm left goose bumps in the
cool of the air-conditioned car. She drank the frothy
liquid, smiling almost insanely at Carter, and grabbed
one last oyster, enjoying the medley of tastes on her
tongue.

She began groping for the door handle, knowing it was
time to get out. There was a heady atmosphere in the
car, and maybe it was best to be away from it anyhow.

John reached over and wrapped his hand around Kerry's
wrist. "Two things, Kerry. First, the driver always
opens the door; and second, the sidewalk is over here
on my side."

The door opened and John got out, then held out his
hand to help Kerry out of the car.

Kerry looked at the brown eyes that were speaking to
her. Then followed them as they left the car. Sliding
over was awkward with her bad leg, but she did her
best, going slowly. The leather was soft and supple
beneath her - she couldn't help but remember that a few
seconds ago Carter had been sitting right where her
behind was now. And then, finally, she was grateful
for Carter's assistance in getting her upright and out
of the vehicle.

She turned to the driver who was holding the door
open. "Thank you, Hank." She felt absurdly proud for
remembering the name.

"You're welcome, Doctor Weaver. Master John? When
should I return for you?"

"I don't know. Sometime after the fireworks have
ended, I suppose. Why don't you park the car and then
enjoy yourself here? We can meet back here after the
fireworks."

"Yes, sir." Hank doffed his hat in Kerry's direction.
"I hope you enjoyed your snack, ma'am." Then Hank shut
the door and went around to the driver's side, getting
in without a backward glance and driving off. Another
limo pulled to the curb and John led Kerry away.

"My stomach is spontaneously calling for food. How
about yours?" John asked her as they made their way
into the crowd.

Kerry's hand was spontaneously calling for John's, but
she had a dim idea that food would be good too. In the
meantime she gripped his hand hard, feeling the
additional warmth that the contact gave her on an
evening that was already humid and warm.

John's heart skipped a beat when Kerry sought out his
hand. "How about something not good for us? There's a
hot dog stand over to our right," he said. The only
bad thing about having to eat was that Kerry would let
go of his hand. But maybe once they were done she'd
take it again? John hoped so, anyway.

"That's good." Kerry looked up at John, wanting to
catch sight of his warm brown eyes - pools of liquid
chocolate. "I want mine with ketchup and mustard, and
. . . everything." She enunciated the final word
slowly, then repeated it. "Everything."

"Everything." John repeated. He could now see that
Kerry was tipsy and he was doing his best to not laugh
at her. It made sense really. A sober Kerry would
never even think about holding his hand. "Just one?"

Kerry stared back at John, suddenly indecisive. "If
I'm still hungry, I can have yours?"

Unable to resist, John replied, "You can have anything
of mine you want, Kerry."

Kerry nodded. "Good. What are you getting on it?" It
was a serious question, deserving much consideration.
"And what kind of bun?"

"I can't tell from here. Probably a Kaiser roll or a
regular bun. And most likely a regular hot dog. Would
you prefer a hot sausage? There's got to be a stand
for those around here somewhere." A bun was a bun,
John thought. Who cared what kind it was as long as
it was edible?

"A hot sausage?" There were just so many things to
consider. "What about a hamburger? It's just got to
have everything." That was what she was sure about.
"Everything." Kerry repeated. "I want everything."

John couldn't hold back the laughter at that. "Here."
He steered Kerry toward the nearest stand, which
happened to sell hamburgers. "Sit." He waited until
she had sat at a picnic table and then walked up to
order for them. He figured 'everything' also meant
cheese, so he ordered three hamburgers with everything,
two orders of fries and two sodas. Large sodas.
Couldn't leave Kerry deprived, could he? With his
hands full, John made his way back to their seats.

"Here, you go. One large soda, one order of fries and
one large cheeseburger with everything," John said as
he placed the food in front of Kerry. "I even got
ketchup and malt vinegar for the fries since I didn't
know which you'd prefer."

John sat down across from Kerry and smiled as he waited
to see if she was going to put everything on her
fries, or if she would eat them plain or just with the
ketchup or vinegar.

The sights and smells and sounds of the pier filled
Kerry's senses like an overfull kaleidoscope. She kept
on twisting and turning as different things caught her
attention. The wood of the bench was hard beneath
her. And a small child was carrying a helium filled
balloon. And seagulls were swooping for food.

And John was sitting beside her.

She grabbed her cheeseburger and began eating it
hungrily. She could taste the individual elements.
The soft bread bun, with sesame seeds on top rolling
against her palette. The moist, slightly charred, beef
patty. The ketchup with its tang. And the limp
lettuce and tomato and beetroot - too long out of the
garden. The pliability and sensuousness of the heated
cheese. The whole thing comprising the wonderful taste
sensation known as a cheeseburger.

After a few mouthfuls she stopped to deal with her
fries. Carter had got vinegar and ketchup for them.
She stared at it for a second, before depositing the
vinegar all over the fries, and the ketchup only on
half. She took fries alternately from both sides -
relishing the difference in taste and heat and texture.

The food was good, and as she ate the world became less
a series of fractured and sensual images and more a
coherent whole.

John was having a good time watching Kerry watch the
world go by. He ate his cheeseburger absently, too
absorbed in the woman to really notice what he was
eating. He grinned when she put the vinegar and
ketchup on the fries, trying each out.

"Is your cheeseburger okay?" John asked as Kerry's
eating slowed a bit. She had to have been hungry
considering how quickly she had consumed most of the
burger and half the fries.

Kerry turned to Carter and smiled. "Yes. It's
great." It was a little sad seeing the world calm down
- but Carter was her resident and it was probably for
the best. This was supposed to be two friends enjoying
an evening out -- nothing more. It was much the best
if she didn't suddenly feel that he was the source of
all light and warmth in the universe. She gave a
regretful smile, and took a sip of her soda. "I must
have skipped lunch or something."

"Something," John agreed, thinking it was most likely
the second glass of champagne that she had downed in
something like two seconds. Well, Kerry was obviously
back to her normal self now. No more hand holding.
John took another bite of his cheeseburger, but for
some reason, instead of not noticing the taste at all,
he thought it tasted like sawdust. He set it down in
disgust, his appetite gone along with Kerry's
flirtation.

"If you're still hungry, you can have my second one.
I'm not as hungry as I thought," John said, pushing the
untouched second cheeseburger toward Kerry.

Kerry looked at the burger, then up at Carter to see if
he was serious. She picked up the burger and took a
bite - remembering how good the first one had been -
but this just tasted like a run of the mill
cheeseburger. It wasn't going to win any culinary
awards. She shook her head. "I'm done."

&&&&&&
End of Part 2
&&&&&&