DISCLAIMER: ER is the property of Constant C Productions, Amblin Entertainment, and Warner Brothers Television.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks to Harriet, creative consultant and jurist; Charlotte for the encouragement and the loan of her name; and to Gracie, who lights the candle that shines on me.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Resting in the Arms
By Ainsley Wallace

Section One

Things could be better,
Things could be worse,
This life can be charmed and cursed

- MCC

Kim slouched a little further down in her seat, suppressed another sigh and tried to think of something she hated more than staff meetings.

She couldn't.

Carl, who sat at the head of the long table, flipped through some pages, scratched himself a note in pencil and then looked up again. "…And unfortunately, I have one other piece of bad news to deliver today. Richard Corelli, our third year resident is withdrawing from the residency program effective immediately."

Everyone around the table sat up a little straighter and looked around to see who had known this was going to happen.

Carl cleared his throat and eyed his notes as he spoke. "It's probably no secret that Richard had been struggling lately and after some time off he has decided not to return."

The mumbles and murmurs broke out around the table and Kim caught words like "rehab" and "breakdown." Kim threw her pen down onto her clipboard and shook her head. Dammit. Richard Corelli was one of the most promising residents they'd had since Kim had joined the department. A big lanky guy with gentle brown eyes and a soft voice, he'd had the office across from Kim when he'd first arrived and had invited himself over for a game of wastebasket-ball almost immediately. He was sensitive and smart and so concerned for his patients' well-being. And this place had chewed right through him in a little over two years.

"Now, I'd like to respect Richard's right to privacy here, so I'd ask you to act like the professionals you are and not to…well, you know, make this grist for the gossip mill, all right?"

People nodded, but Kim's eyes were riveted to Carl's face.

"Is he all right, Carl?" she asked. "I mean, is he getting what he needs?"

Carl stared at her for a moment, startled by the quiet sound of her voice in this arena of moaning and pissing, then his face softened into a half smile. "Yeah, I think he is, Kim."

She nodded, her eyes distant.

"So, if you do the math, I think you can all see where that leaves us," Carl said. "We are now officially one attending and one resident short. Which means that I'm going to have to reschedule the next few months to cover Richard's shifts as well --"

Carl was drowned out by the collective groan.

"Jesus, Carl," a young bearded man at the end of the table said, "we're already doing an extra set of shifts as it is."

"I know, I know," Carl said, holding his hand up to signal for silence. "I'm talking to Dr. Romano about the funding situation and I'm trying to convince him that we have to step up our recruitment efforts. But until we hire somebody, we have to pick up the slack and cover, folks. That's all there is to it."

"Carl," a tall, black woman beside Kim said, "I have a suggestion. What if we were to cover the extra shifts by tacking half shifts onto our existing shifts. It makes for longer shifts but we'd keep the bulk of our down time more or less intact and the load gets spread out a little."

Carl scribbled notes on his agenda. "Thanks, Leslie, I'll give that some thought."

"I don't like that idea," someone said from across the table and Leslie turned towards Kim and rolled her eyes. "I'm already doing eight hours in this place and I don't--"

A frantic beeping filled the tiny room and everyone instantly looked down at their pagers.

"It's me," Kim said, getting to her feet, trying not to look relieved as she deciphered the message on the tiny screen. She pushed her chair in and grabbed her clipboard. "I'll get the highlights later," she said to Carl as she left. He nodded then turned his attention back to the remainder of his rioting staff.

She hit the elevator button and hugged her clipboard to her chest. Well, that was the last thing they needed -- more shifts. She sighed wearily and wondered if Carl was going to make it out of that conference room alive.

The insult of losing one of their own, coupled with extra work all round was not going to help. Between funding shortfalls, staffing shortages and frayed nerves from trying to hold personal and professional lives together, it was getting harder and harder to tell the patients in the psych ward from the staff. Some days the laminated ID card was the only real indicator of who exactly was supposed to be running the asylum.

The elevator chimed and woke her from her reverie. She got on and pushed G, then leaned against the wall, grabbing the moment's rest.

She knew that some part of it -- a rather large part actually -- was due to that fucking little twerp Romano and the petty dictatorship he was so busy building. Psych wasn't high profile, psych didn't attract huge research grants from pharmaceutical companies, and most of all, Carl didn't kiss Romano's ass, so Romano had little use for them. End of story. But this was ridiculous. They were getting to the point where patient care was being compromised. Romano had to do something. Didn't he?

In her really insecure moments, this was where she wondered what part she might have played in drawing Romano's wrath to the psych department. She would fret and fuss about this for a minute or two and then usually she made herself shrug it off and get back to what mattered most -- helping people who were ill and suffering.

That was, after all, why they were all supposed to be there, wasn't it?

The elevator doors opened and the chaos of the ER unfolded before her. She made her way to the admit desk, dodging gurneys, nurses and wheelchairs.

"Hi, Randi," she said when she reached the desk. "You've got a houseful today, I see."

Randi turned, snapping her gum and gave Kim an appraising look. "Hi, Dr. Legaspi," she said and she grabbed an armful of files from under the desk and dumped them in a pile on the counter. "Great blouse. Weren't you covering ER yesterday?"

"And the day before that, actually," Kim said with a smile. "I just can't get enough."

Randi stared at her, chewing furiously. "Apparently not."

"So, somebody paged me?"

"Uh, yeah, Dr. Weaver, I think," she said, surveying the desk, looking for the chart. "It's that lady with the hockey helmet again. Yeah, here it is."

Kim took the chart and nodded. "Poor Alice," she said, as she flipped the chart open and scanned Kerry's notes.

Randi's eyebrows shot up. "Poor Alice? That woman's a total nutbar. Nearly bit off Chuny's finger when she tried to help her off with one of her coats." Randi shook her head, heaved another pile of files to a different location. "I don't know how you do it, Dr. Legaspi. I sure as hell couldn't."

Kim smiled. "She's actually a really dear person when she's on her meds," she said, closing the chart. "And anyway I've always thought you had what it took to work with psych patients, Randi."

Randi paused and looked at her. "Oh yeah? Really?"

"Really," Kim said. "I've seen you how well you manage Dr. Malucci."

Randi stared at her for a second then raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you could get me some good drugs to use on him?"

Kim laughed, gave her a wave and headed off to find Kerry.

She spotted her lover's fiery red hair through the window of Exam 2. She was sitting on the edge of a patient's bed, propped there by her crutch. The elderly lady in the bed had snowy hair and rheumy eyes that must have once been a deep cornflower blue. The woman was holding onto Kerry's hand and talking and Kerry was listening raptly, nodding every so often and occasionally laughing along with her. Kim stood at the window, clutching the chart and her clipboard to her chest and just watched for a while, a smile growing on her lips, oblivious to the traffic in the hallway. She could have stood there all day, wanted to, in fact, but Alice was waiting for her and was no doubt in a high state of panic. She rapped quietly on the glass. Kerry turned and the change in her expression when she spotted Kim made Kim's heart flip. That smile. And it was for her. For her and her alone.

Kerry said a few more words to the elderly patient and then hurried out to meet Kim.

"Hey," Kim said and she felt her smile growing just from the proximity to this wonderful woman.

"Hey yourself," Kerry said, shifting her weight to her good leg. "Sorry to drag you down here again."

"Don't be. You saved me from a staff meeting."

"Oh, well then you're welcome," Kerry said. "Any interesting developments on the sixth floor?"

Kim slouched against the wall. "We lost a resident."

"Lost as in missing or lost as in dead?"

"Maybe a bit of both. You know Corelli, the third year guy?"

Kerry's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, no. He was great with the patients. What happened to him?"

"It's all cloak and dagger at the moment but I think this place and all the demands just plain old did him in."

Kerry shook her head in disgust. "Of course it did. He actually cared about the patients."

Kim sighed. "I know. And naturally, this is going to mean more shifts for the rest of us."

"Well, honestly," Kerry said, fire suddenly in her eyes, "you are so understaffed up there, I don't know how you're covering as it is! Somebody's got to tell Romano --"

Kim laid a cool soft hand on top of Kerry's. "I know. Carl is doing his best."

"It's just ridiculous. Ridiculous and bad management because they're burning out good people." Kerry looked into Kim's eyes and searched them tenderly. "As it is I feel like we're hardly seeing each other. I hate that."

"I hate that, too," Kim said. "But we're both off tonight."

"Are we still on for dinner and a movie?" Kerry asked.

"Absolutely, although I think you should pick the movie this time, so that you don't hate it."

"I didn't hate 'Tomb Raider,' Kim," Kerry said. "I just didn't enjoy it quite as much as you did."

"Angelina Jolie in skimpy clothes with two semi-automatic pistols. What's not to enjoy?" She grinned at Kerry.

Kerry caught the mischief in Kim's eyes then relented. "Yeah, okay, I'll pick this time."

Kim straightened up. "So, Alice is back?"

"Is she ever," Kerry said, leading the way to Exam 4. "She must be off her meds. I phoned her group home and they hadn't seen her in four days. She's got herself wrapped up in four or five winter coats and won't let anyone near her to take them off so I couldn't even really examine her yet."

"Who brought her in?"

"Chicago PD found her in a park, noticed blood on her legs and brought her in despite her…uh protests." Kerry pushed the door open and slipped inside, Kim right behind her.

Chuny stood beside the door, catching up on nursing notes. Kerry thanked her and she left, smiling and nodding at Kim.

Alice was across the room, as far away from the door as she could be, hunkered down in a corner, one of her coats over her head. Kim could hear the quiet weeping and see the outer layers of coats trembling.

Kerry waited while she took in all in, then she smiled sadly at Kim.

"Alice?" Kim called gently. "Alice, it's me. It's Dr. Legaspi. You told Dr. Weaver that you wanted her to get me and here I am."

The pile of coats in the corner was still for a moment. Kim moved closer, watching the woman carefully. "Hey, Alice, are you under all those coats? Come on out so that I can see that you're okay."

A hesitation, then the coat that covered her head slid to the ground. A white hockey helmet lifted up and turned, revealing the young woman's tearstained and filthy face.

Kim smiled. "There you are. Thanks for coming out of hiding." She sat down on a stool a few yards away from her.

"Dr. Leg-- Leg--" Alice stammered.

"It's me, Alice. I'm here and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. You can come out now."

Alice stared at Kim for a moment, then slowly turned herself around until she was sitting on the floor, facing Kim.

"How are you, Alice?"

"Okay."

Kim nodded. "Your group home says that you haven't been there for a few days."

Alice glared at Kerry, who still stood at the door, then looked back at Kim. "It's not safe there anymore. They can't protect me from the sorcerers."

"I see. So you left?"

Alice nodded.

"Have you been taking your medicine?"

Alice shook her head. "If I took my medicine, they would find me again. I can't let that happen, you have to understand, I can't let that happen." Alice started rocking a little.

"It's okay, Alice, I understand," Kim said. "Are you hurt ?"

"No. I am not hurt."

Kim paused. "Are you bleeding, Alice?"

"Yes."

"On your legs?"

A nod.

"Are you bleeding anywhere else?" Kim asked.

"No."

Kim glanced back at Kerry. "Alice, Dr. Weaver needs to take a look at where you're bleeding to --"

"NO!" A shout that rang for a few seconds in the room.

"Alice, we've talked about this," Kim said. "Sometimes you have to trust me. You know I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know. I can tell that you have good magic."

"So will you let Dr. Weaver look at --"

"NO!"

Kim sighed. "How about me, then? Can I look at your legs? I need to make sure that you're all right."

Silence from the pile of filthy coats in the corner. "Yes."

"Yes? I can look at your legs?"

"Yes."

Kim turned and motioned for Kerry to toss her a pair of gloves. Kerry did and Kim slipped them on as she crossed the distance to Alice. She crouched down and spoke quietly to her for a moment, then helped Alice slowly to her feet. She removed three of her coats and then helped her up onto the gurney, where Alice sat, with her legs dangling over the side.

Alice's pants had once been a beige colour but were now a colourless shade of grime, but Kim could see immediately from the darkened patches that a significant amount of blood had soaked into the pants. Kerry passed her a pair of paramedic scissors and Kim began cutting her way up Alice's pant leg, speaking soothingly to her all the while. She pulled the fabric away to reveal a swollen bloody mess on each thigh. The blood didn't quite conceal the intricate geometric form which had been carved into her skin. Kim instructed her stomach to be still.

"Alice," she said, concentrating to keep her voice calm, "who did this to you?"

"I did," Alice said and she watched Kim's face, eyes eerily unblinking.

"You did this to yourself?" Kim repeated.

Alice nodded. "It makes me invisible so that they can't find me." She started to hum a strange tune, bobbing her head in time with it.

Kim heard a quiet rap at the door. Chuny slipped in and spoke quietly to Kerry. Kerry motioned Kim over.

"There's a GSW trauma coming in and I have to cover it," Kerry said. "I'll send Carter in to disinfect and suture and bandage."

Kim nodded. "Chuny can you prepare 3 migs of Droperidol, please? She's going to need to be calmer for Carter to work on her."

Chuny nodded and hurried off to get the meds.

Kerry glanced over at Alice. "She just won't stay on the meds, will she?"

Kim shook her head as she stripped off her bloody gloves. "No. She has really bad reactions to every one we've tried. It's been hell for her." Kim looked at the woman in the helmet sitting ramrod straight on the gurney. "You know, every time I see her, I can't help but think 'There, but for the grace of God'…"

Kerry looked at Kim. "What do you mean?"

Kim smiled sadly. "The first time I met Alice, I noticed that we had the same birthday. Same year and everything. And then I thought her name was familiar, so I checked. Before she became ill, she was the principal cellist with the Chicago Symphony."

Kerry's face fell and she gazed over at Alice again, then she squeezed Kim's hand. "I'll see you at seven."

"I can't wait," Kim said, holding onto Kerry's hand for just a moment.

Kerry smiled and rushed down the hall to prepare for the incoming trauma.

Kim took a deep breath and turned back to face Alice.

"All right, Alice, we're going to take care of your legs and I'm going to give you some medicine to make you feel better. Is that all right with you?"

Alice eyed her suspiciously. "Are you going to give it to me?"

Kim nodded. "I can give it to you if you like."

"All right."

Kim rolled the stool closer to Alice's gurney and sat down. "And when the nurse comes, I'm going to see if we can get some music for you to listen to while we clean up your legs."

Alice reached out a stiff hand towards Kim and Kim took it gently. "I would like Bartok, please," Alice said.

Kim smiled at her and patted her hand. "We'll see what we can do."

Kim glanced at her watch as she hurried down the hall towards the psych unit. Cleaning Alice up had taken a while, although Carter, bless his heart, had been gentle and patient and understanding. For her part, she had mainly held Alice's hand through the whole thing, but in fact, that was the only reason that they'd been able to do anything at all to her without a massive dose of Haldol and four point restraints. But now Alice had been safely admitted, her shift was over almost an hour ago and although she was a little late to meet Kerry, she was on her way home.

Kerry. She smiled as she punched her code into the psych security system and pulled open the door. Just the thought of her was enough to send Kim's fragile heart soaring these days. It was just so…good. Good like it had never been with anyone else. No games, no masks, no jockeying for position -- just Kerry, who was always entirely herself. She'd been Kim's constant lately, the sanest, warmest, most exciting, most satisfying part of her life and even just the prospect of sitting beside her in a movie theatre tonight, holding her hand, made a big goofy grin come to Kim's face. She rushed into her office to grab her coat and her briefcase shaking her head at herself. It was like being a teenager again.

She was hustling past the main desk when she spotted Leslie, her coat on, bag at her feet, signing charts. Leslie looked up as Kim flew past.

"You didn't read your email, did you?" Leslie said.

Kim screeched to a halt. "I've been in the ER for the past couple of hours," she said. "What did I miss?"

Leslie pursed her lips. "Let's remember that I'm the messenger, okay?"

Kim's shoulders fell. "What?"

"You're covering half a shift for Richard tonight."

"Tonight?" Kim hadn't wanted to sound as hysterical as she did, but it was somehow out of her control.

Leslie nodded nervously. "As a matter of fact, you're on right now."

Kim drew in a long breath and let it out in a huff. "How did this happen? Why didn't someone --"

"Tell you? Well, Carl sent you an e-mail," Leslie said, scribbling her signature on another form. "And as for your former question, I think Carl was going to do it himself but one of his kids got sick or broke an arm or something and he had to leave."

Kim rubbed her forehead wearily.

"I'm sorry, sweetness, I would take it from you but I've got tickets to a play tonight," Leslie said. She handed the pile of forms to the clerk at the desk. "Any other time, I'd help you out."

"No, that's all right," Kim said, "go, have a life."

Leslie grabbed her bag and headed for the door, patting Kim's arm as she went by. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

Kim nodded. "Yeah, have a good time." She sighed and began retracing her steps back to her office.

Kerry made the last two changes to the spreadsheet, saved it, then shut the program down. Another item off the list, she thought, and where the hell is Kim anyway, we're going to be late for the movie.

She glanced at her watch, then realized she really didn't care if they went to a movie. Hell, she didn't even care if they had dinner -- she'd had a glass of wine while she'd worked on the budgets and scheduling and she figured she could live happily until tomorrow morning on nothing more than that, if only Kim were here.

They'd both been working so much lately. Well, now that she thought about it, Kim had been the one with the lion's share of extra shifts and overtime. Kerry had, in reality, been working a little bit less these past few months. Or maybe it was that she'd just been working smarter, slamming the door on unnecessary demands, cutting back when possible and delegating whatever she felt she could. Whatever it was, she was leaving the hospital more quickly after her shift and she was making free time magically appear so that she could spend it with Kim. Her priorities had been drastically reshuffled in spite of her and frankly, it all came down to Kim.

She loved her in a way that she had never loved anyone before in her life. And after a few more glasses of this wine, she might even be persuaded to admit that she needed her. But that was just too scary to think about while she was this sober. She checked her watch again and was surprised to find that it was not much later than when she'd last checked.

The phone rang. She grabbed her crutch and made her way to the phone. The caller ID flashed Kim's extension at the hospital. Kerry knew suddenly they weren't going to be having dinner or going to a movie.

"Shit," she said before she picked up the receiver.

Kerry heard the front door slam over the drone of the reporter on CNN and then two heartbeats later, Kim was standing in the door to the living room, her coat still on, her briefcase and bag in hand.

"I am so sorry," she said and Kerry suddenly realized that she might very well be on the verge of tears.

Kerry flicked off the TV. "Kim, it's all right, it happens."

"No, it's not all right," Kim said. "We've hardly had an hour alone together in the last two weeks and tonight was supposed to be special and I messed it up."

Kerry struggled to her feet, grabbed her crutch and made her way over to the distraught woman standing in the doorway.

"You didn't mess anything up," she said, sliding Kim's coat off her shoulders. "It was a scheduling thing, couldn't be helped. The important thing is that you're home now. Have you had dinner?"

"Does a Butterfinger count?"

Kerry rolled her eyes as she crutched her way to the closet by the front door. "There is some leftover quiche from yesterday, do you want me to heat some up for you?" she asked as she hung Kim's coat up on a hook.

"No, I'm not really hungry," Kim said and when Kerry returned to the living room, Kim was sitting on the couch, slipping off her shoes.

"You should eat something," Kerry said, sitting down beside her and slipping a tender hand around her waist.

Kim leaned into her and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. "I'm fine," she said.

"Long day, huh?" Kerry said.

"You don't know the half of it," Kim replied.

Kerry sat back and opened her arms to Kim. "Come here," she said. "Tell me about it."

Kim smiled and crawled into Kerry's arms, sprawling across her lap, resting her head on Kerry's shoulder.

"You tell me about yours, first," Kim said, "because I'm tired of thinking about mine."

"It wasn't too bad, actually," Kerry said, running her free hand through Kim's long, curly hair. "Which is to say that I don't think I had to speak to Romano once."

A chuckle from Kim. "A great day would be a day that he came in on a gurney, D.O.A."

Kerry smiled. "Malucci kept the nonsense to a minimum and Elizabeth Corday nearly spoke civilly to me."

"She's still got her knickers in a twist?" Kim asked and then she had to stifle a yawn.

"Yeah," Kerry said. "I really thought that she'd have let it go by now. I mean, it's been what, five months since Mark's evaluation?"

"Mmmm. At least that."

"I had one patient today who was just fascinating," Kerry said. "Remember when you came down to consult on Alice? Do you remember the old lady I was talking with?"

"Mmm hmm," Kim said. "She had lovely eyes."

"She did, didn't she? Well, it turns out that she was born in Zimbabwe -- of course back then it would have been Rhodesia -- and she grew up on a farm a few hours from Harare. She spent almost her whole life there. She trained in Johannesburg to be a nurse, then moved back to Rhodesia where she tried to set up a hospital in a really remote rural area. None of the residents had even seen a white person, and here was this tiny white woman in trousers, striding around getting them to build a hut for her hospital…"

Kerry voice trailed off as she suddenly realized that something in the room had just changed. She paused and listened and there it was -- the subtle change in the rhythm of Kim's breathing. She peered down at her face. Kim's eyes were closed, her long eyelashes still against her cheek, her jaw slack in repose. Kerry smiled and traced the line of Kim's face with the back of her fingers.

She kissed her forehead then sat back, savouring the warmth of her lover sleeping in her arms.

Kerry glanced up at the board, then the clock and then slipped her stethoscope from around her neck and stuffed it into the pocket of her lab coat.

"Randi, I'm going for lunch," she said, stepping out from behind the desk and heading down the hall. "Don't page me unless it's important."

"Yes, ma'am," Randi said and she saluted to Kerry's receding back. Randi glanced over at Abby who was busy typing at a computer terminal. "You know where she's going, don't you?"

Abby tapped a few more keys then paused. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Weaver. You know where she's going?"

Abby scanned the screen carefully. "It sounded to me like she was going to lunch."

Randi shot her a look and snapped her gum impatiently. "You do know that she and Legaspi are an item, don't you?"

Abby resumed typing. "Yes, Randi, even I, lowliest branch on the grapevine, got that memo." She regarded the gum-chewing desk clerk for a moment. "Although I really don't think either of them would like to be referred to as 'an item.'"

"Item, shmitem," Randi said, shuffling some charts on the counter. "All I know is that those two have been getting it on for a lot longer than anyone here knows."

Abby stopped typing. "Getting it on?" she said.

"You know what I mean."

"I know that Weaver would clean your clock if she heard you talking about this," Abby said.

Randi shrugged and stared pensively down the hallway where Kerry had just disappeared. "And anyway, I don't care what anybody else says. I think they're cute."

Abby sat, open-mouthed, and watched Randi flounce off to the other end of the desk to answer a ringing phone. Cute, Abby thought. Oh, what she would pay to see Kerry Weaver's face as someone told her that the staff thought that the fact that she and Dr. Legaspi were 'getting it on' was 'cute.'

Providing of course you could find someone sufficiently suicidal to tell her these things.

Abby smiled to herself and started to type again.

Kerry rapped on Kim's office door and waited for Kim's shouted "Come in," before she opened it and entered. Kim looked up from her deskful of charts, reports and forms and smiled when she saw Kerry. Kerry caught sight of the bags under Kim's eyes that make up was not quite concealing this morning.

"Hi," Kim said and she got up and greeted Kerry with a kiss and a longish hug. "What are you doing up here?"

"You didn't wake me when you got up," Kerry said, taking Kim's hand and holding it.

"Your shift didn't start until nine," Kim said, dragging her index finger slowly across Kerry's palm. "I thought you'd enjoy the sleep." Kerry nodded, but Kim could see that it was clearly not in agreement. "What?" Kim asked.

"It's nothing," Kerry said. "I mean, I just -- I wish you'd woken me up so that -- you know, it would've been nice…to see you before you left for work."

Kim searched Kerry's eyes, saw the flicker of apprehension lurking deep below the surface. She cupped the tiny woman's face in her hand. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll know better."

Kerry looked away, suddenly awkward. "Anyway, I thought I'd come up to see if you were free for lunch."

Kim glanced back at her desk, her eyes measuring the paperwork that waited there. She sighed. "I don't know, Ker. I've got a lot of paper to get through and I have a session at two with a patient. I was going to just grab something later."

"Grab something?" Kerry said. "The way you 'grabbed dinner' last night? Or the way you 'grabbed breakfast' this morning? Because unless I'm wrong, and I don't think I am, the lack of any dirty dishes in the sink this morning means you haven't had breakfast today, right?"

Kim looked sheepish. "Not exactly."

"Then you shouldn't skip lunch," Kerry said, grabbing her by the arm. "Come on. Cafeteria, half an hour, my treat. You can even get french fries or some other artery clogging food and I won't lecture."

"I think you just did," Kim said.

"Oh will you just come on…"

"You already apologized," Kerry said. "Twice, I think."

"I feel awful," Kim said. "First I stand you up for our date and then I fall asleep while you're telling me about your day."

Kerry speared her salad. "You can make it up to me by rescheduling our date."

Kim brightened. "Okay."

"How about tomorrow night? I'm off at five."

"Let me check the new schedule, okay? Carl was just getting it finalized today."

Kerry watched Kim nibble her way through her tuna sandwich. "You look tired, you know," Kerry said.

Kim nodded. "I know. I think I need to --"

The insistent beeping of her pager cut her off. She slipped it off her belt and peered at the readout.

"ER," she said. "I'll have to go in a minute."

"Eat some more of your lunch first," Kerry said. "You can't function if you don't eat something."

Kim nodded while she chewed. "I feel like if I could just get a couple of days off, maybe catch up on my rest --"

"Eat a few decent meals," Kerry put in.

"Yes, eat a few decent meals. I feel like if I could just do that then I wouldn't feel so run down all the time. It's like there's a never ending stream of patients and only so many hours in a day."

Kerry listened carefully, pushing a piece of lettuce around with her fork. "Why don't you ask Carl for a little time? It sounds like you need it."

Kim sighed and fingered her Coke can. "Now that Richard's gone and we're two bodies short, that's hardly an option."

"Well that's Carl's problem, not yours, Kim. He's the chief and it's up to him to staff his department. It's also his responsibility to see to the welfare of the doctors who work under him," Kerry said. She sipped her grapefruit juice and leveled her gaze at Kim. "You're no good to anybody if you get sick from over work, Kim."

Kim sighed again and crossed her arms and Kerry felt the frustration rolling off her in waves. "I know that and I'm trying to strike some sort of balance, but can't you see that the situation is --"

More electronic beeps from her pager.

Kim rolled her eyes as she reached for the offending small black beeper. She glanced at the readout. "Goddammit, I'm coming!" she said and she thumped it down on the table.

Kerry watched and said nothing.

"I have to go," Kim said and she forced an apologetic smile. She drained her Coke and grabbed what was left of her sandwich.

Kerry had to override her sudden urge to grab Kim's hand and hold her there.

Kim wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I'll catch up with your later, okay?"

Kerry nodded and watched her wind her way through the cafeteria tables to the exit. She put her fork down and rested her chin in one hand, watching the door where Kim had just left and trying to still the demon voices at the back of her mind who were slowly awakening.

Kim tossed the last bite of her lunch into a garbage can, stuck her clipboard under her arm so that she could wipe her mouth with a tissue, and strode down the hall to Exam 3. Dr. Chen was there, sitting with a man in his forties in a hospital gown. He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. His right arm was wrapped in a tensor bandage and was in a sling and he was talking. Even before she opened the door, Kim could see that the man was agitated, gesturing with his good arm and fidgeting constantly. She poked her head in. "Dr. Chen? You paged me?"

Chen turned and smiled at Kim, then excused herself from the gentleman sitting on the bed. She ushered Kim into the hall.

"Thanks for coming," Chen said. "This is Raymond Carlson, age 47. Paramedics brought him in after he suffered a fall from the roof of his house. We've checked him out from top to bottom and frankly, he was very lucky and only sprained his arm. Should've been much worse."

Kim nodded. "Which bring us to what Mr. Carlson was doing on the roof. Ordinarily, I'd guess cleaning the eaves troughs, but since you paged me, I'm going to go with trying to fly."

Chen's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, how did you know?"

Kim shrugged. "He has the look of an amateur skydiver."

Chen chuckled, then handed Kim the chart. "Well, your skydiver was diagnosed as bipolar many years ago, and has been faithful with his meds but his wife says that lately he's been getting pretty bad."

Kim flipped through the chart quickly. "That happens. He's probably started rapid cycling. We'll need to change his meds," Kim said. "But first, I need to talk to Mr. Carlson. Is his wife here?"

"She and their daughter are waiting in chairs."

Kim nodded. "I'll need to talk to them later," she said.

"Okay," Chen said. "Let me know when you're done."

"Sure thing." Kim turned and opened the door to Exam 3. "Mr. Carlson? Hi there. I'm Dr. Legaspi and I wonder if we could talk for a few minutes…"

Kerry leaned against the admit desk and cast an eye on the board before opening the chart she held and beginning to write down her orders. As soon as she finished this, she was going to go looking for Malucci because she hadn't seen him in over an hour and that made her nervous. As she wrote, the mention of Kim's name floated over the din of the waiting area and the noises from curtains. It made Kerry look up.

"…because I don't think she's a natural blonde," Haleh said to Chen, her elbows propped on the counter, her gaze directed at chairs.

Chen glanced up, then returned to her chart. "I don't care if it's natural or not. I would kill for that hair."

Behind them, at the other counter, Kerry craned her neck to see where they were looking. She spotted Kim sitting with a middle aged woman and a teenage girl, talking.

"Well, I would look ridiculous with that hair, but honey, I would take her legs in a minute," Haleh said.

Chen looked up again. "She is a beautiful woman."

Haleh shook her head. "You know, a woman who looks like that, you wouldn't think that she'd have any trouble finding men…"

Randi bustled past, caught both women's eyes and very obviously pointed behind them with a disgusted look on her face, before hurrying off with an armload of forms.

Haleh and Chen turned slowly.

Kerry stood motionless, staring at them.

Chen lowered her eyes and bolted, grabbing two urine samples from the counter as she went.

Haleh's mouth was moving but she was having trouble forcing the words into sentences. "Dr. Weaver, I -- I -- I didn't know that you were there."

"Apparently," Kerry said softly. She lowered her gaze to her chart, and took a breath, then looked up again. "Mr. Stivick in Curtain 2 needs a catheter. Can you take care of that?"

She closed the chart and held it out. Haleh watched her for another heartbeat, then she took the chart and scurried off to Curtain 2.

Kerry leaned against the desk and sighed. It just never got easier, did it?

Kim spotted Carter at the desk hunting and pecking on the computer keyboard. An hour with a suicidal twenty year old boy, but it had been worth it. She slipped in beside Carter and pulled up a stool.

"I saw your kid," she said. "Michael Lynch."

"Lynch? That's the alcohol poisoning and all the ibuprofen?"

"The same."

"And?"

Kim rubbed her forehead. She wouldn't have minded some ibuprophen herself. "He's still pretty groggy, but I did get him to tell me that he was trying to kill himself."

Carter stopped typing and looked at Kim. "He nearly did. His blood alcohol was scary."

"Well, as it turns out, he was only drinking to get his courage up. He thought that a whole bottle of Advil would kill him."

Carter nodded and crossed his arms. "So are you going to admit him?"

Kim rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. "Yeah, I can hold him for a few days and hopefully during that time we can get him to talk about it enough to realize he needs some counseling."

"Talk about what?"

"The fact that he's gay and terrified."

Carter stared at her. "How do you know that?"

Kim smiled a little. "He told me."

Carter grinned and shook his head. "I've got to hand it to you Dr. Legaspi. You work fast."

Kim scooped up her clipboard. "I have to Carter. I've got too much to do and too little time to do it. I'll see you later."

She'd only gotten a few feet when she heard Kerry's voice. She turned and saw the tiny woman crutching her way down the hall after her.

"When are you off?" Kerry said.

Kim checked her watch. "In another half hour or so. Hey, have you got any Advil I could have?"

"Yeah, I'll get you some," Kerry said, turning to head back to the admit desk. "Headache?"

Kim pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. "Yeah, a bad one."

"Well, listen, I get off in an hour and a half and I was thinking, maybe we could--"

"Hey there, gorgeous," a voice close by them said.

They both turned and Kim's face lit up. "Oh my God, Nancy? What are you doing here?" she said and she bounded forward to hug the smiling woman.

"Looking for you, idiot," Nancy said as she hugged her. "Your clerk told me you were down here healing the unwashed masses."

Kerry stepped back to watch the two women embrace and she felt herself smiling along with them as they greeted each other happily. Nancy was almost as tall as Kim and her dark hair was styled in a neat little bob. Her make up was minimal but flattering and Kerry could see right away that she had an open, friendly face. She wore a tailored suit under a long black coat and the contrast of her fair skin against the deep midnight of the coat made her blue eyes shine.

Kim held her at arm's length. "God, you've lost some weight, haven't you?"

"Yeah, it's probably because you cancelled our last two dinner dates."

Kim rolled her eyes. "You cancelled the one before that."

Nancy shrugged. "I know. Life intervenes." She looked Kim up and down. "And you look fabulous, as usual. You witch."

Kim laughed as she touched Kerry's arm. "Nancy, I'd like you to meet Kerry Weaver. Kerry this is my friend Nancy Elliot. She's a psychiatrist over at the state hospital. We did our residencies together."

Kerry and Nancy shook hands.

"So you're Kerry Weaver," Nancy said and Kerry looked straight into eyes that were as warm and probing as Kim's. "Kim has told me a lot about you, Kerry. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you."

Kerry struggled to regroup. "Uh. Thank you."

"So what are you doing here?" Kim asked, her arms crossed over her clipboard.

"Well, I was just in the neighbourhood…"

Kim gave her a look.

"Actually," Nancy said, some of the laughter suddenly gone out of her eyes, "I was hoping we could talk."

"Sure. I'm off in a half hour. Why don't I meet you over at Doc Magoo's for a coffee?"

Nancy nodded. "Sounds great. I'll see you there." She looked at Kerry, those piercing eyes drilling into her. "It was nice to meet you, Kerry." She motioned towards Kim with a jerk of her head. "You're very good for her, you know." She smiled and walked away, her black coat billowing behind her.

The two women watched her go. "She seems nice," Kerry said.

Kim nodded. "She's great. We really dragged each other through our residencies. She's one of those people who are so grounded and compassionate, that you feel better just being around them, you know?" Kim looked at the hallway where she'd disappeared. "We've only been in touch by email for the past three months or so and I've missed seeing her."

Kerry watched Kim's face. "Really?"

"Yeah. We've helped each other through a lot over the years," Kim said.

Kerry shifted her weight onto her crutch. "Is she -- I mean were you two --?"

Kim watched Kerry intently, waiting for the rest of the question. Then it hit her. "Oh no, no, not at all," she said. "Nancy is straight. And happily married to a really nice guy named Craig for almost five years now."

Kerry fought the blush that was creeping up. "Oh, okay, well, you know, I just wondered…"

Kim chuckled and touched Kerry's hand. "I didn't sleep with everyone I went to college with."

Kerry regarded her seriously, then a hint of a smile cracked through. "Well that's good to know."

"Anyway, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Kerry shifted her weight again. "Nothing important. I just wondered if you'd wait for me to finish my shift so we could drive home together. I took the El this morning."

Kim smiled. "Of course I will. I'll come find you after I talk with Nancy."

"Okay." A bigger smile now from Kerry and Kim could see the anticipation in it.

"Can I get that Advil now?" Kim asked.

"Advil," Kerry said. "Right. Come on."

Doc's was full with the suppertime crowd, but Kim spotted Nancy, her coat and jacket off, sitting in a booth with a cup and saucer before her, staring out the steamy window into the falling twilight. Kim shrugged off her coat as she made her way to the table and caught the harried waitress' eye before she sat down.

Kim plopped herself on the bench across from Nancy and impulsively reached out to squeeze her hand.

"You have no idea how great it is to see you today," Kim said, tossing her coat onto the seat beside her.

Nancy smiled but it didn't completely make it to her eyes. "It's good to see you, too, Kimmie."

Kim's smile faded slightly. She'd been through a year of medical school and four years of residency with this woman. She knew how to read her face and today, she didn't like what she saw there.

The waitress pulled up to the table with a cup for Kim and a refill for Nancy. "You want something to eat?" she asked.

Nancy shook her head. Kim asked for a Danish and the young woman disappeared again.

"So," Kim said, stirring milk into her coffee. "You said you wanted to talk."

Nancy looked out the window again at the dying light which was stabbed occasionally by the strobe of an ambulance. She looked back at Kim and Kim was startled by the sadness she saw in her friend's eyes. "I'd like to see you for a while," Nancy said.

Kim's eyebrows arched. "See me?" she repeated. "I don't understand --"

"Professionally," Nancy said.

Kim stopped stirring. "Nance, what's the matter?"

Nancy touched the edge of her saucer with delicate fingers, then sat back in her seat. "I'm crashing and burning, Kim. I'm going down like a plane on fire and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to stop it."

Kim sat back and her hands fell into her lap. "Nancy, I'm so sorry, I -- I didn't know."

Nancy shrugged and those mischievous eyes twinkled. "Of course you didn't. I doubt Craig even knows." She picked microscopic lint off the sleeve of her blouse. "Well, he probably knows something. He'd probably say I was being pre-menstrual all thirty one days of the month. But he doesn't know how bad it's gotten."

Kim made herself take a breath. "How bad has it gotten?"

Nancy looked like she was about to speak, then suddenly she pulled back. She took a long drink of her coffee, put the cup back and sighed. "Yesterday, I was driving to work. I had a late shift so the freeway was relatively empty and I was cruising along at sixty, sixty five. And I suddenly thought, you know, it would just be so easy. Just a quick turn of the wheel and it would be over. One concrete median at that speed and all of my problems would become irrelevant." She looked up from the table at Kim. "And then I thought I'd better come and see you."

Kim didn't move for a moment, then she slid across the table and took both of Nancy's hands in hers. "I'm very glad you came to see me, Nance."

Nancy's blue eyes were welling with tears and she impatiently wiped them away. "Okay," she said, clearing her throat and trying to find her voice. "Let's go through the inventory, shall we?" She ticked the items off on her fingertips. "I can't seem to sleep and when I do sleep I can't stay asleep. I have had no interest in food for months and even less in sex, which as you can imagine is delighting Craig."

Kim smiled sympathetically.

"I can't concentrate to save my life, I can't remember something ten seconds after I've heard it, and I'm so exhausted that I --" Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with one hand, as though she could hold her tears back that way. She rallied again and cleared her throat one more time. "Twice a day, I go into my office, I close the door and I cry. For no reason. I just cry." She fiddled with her saucer. "And then I see more patients."

The waitress whipped past just then, dropping a fork and plate with a huge Danish on it in front of Kim. Kim pushed them aside and studied Nancy's face.

"How long?" she asked.

Nancy avoided her eyes again, looked down at her lap and shrugged. "I don't know. Since the summer anyway." Then she shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh. "It's ridiculous. I keep telling myself to just pull myself together, you know? I'm a strong person, I should be able to suck it up and just get through this." She looked at Kim with pleading eyes. "It's been years since this has happened, Kimmie. Years. I thought I was through with this."

Kim studied her eyes. "So why aren't you talking to your regular doc? Why me?"

Nancy smiled sadly. "Because you know me and I don't have to spend precious energy convincing you that my mother was insane because you've met her." She sucked in a shaky breath. "And because I know you're good. And because I'm scared to death but I trust you."

Kim leaned forward and gently pinned Nancy with her gaze. "You realize I'm not going to just gloss over something that's wrong or treat you with kid gloves because you're my friend, right?"

Nancy smiled. "I would expect nothing less than that from you, Kim."

Kim reached across and took her hands again. "We've been friends way too long to bullshit each other, Nance, so I'll be straight with you."

Nancy nodded.

"You know as well as I do that you are in the midst of a serious depression here. This isn't something you can get through on sheer will, because Lord knows if anyone could do that, it's you."

Nancy chuckled through her tears.

"It's an illness, Nance. It's not your fault. It's not due to weakness. It's due to faulty brain chemistry. If you want to lay a blame somewhere, blame your mother for giving you these damn genes."

Nancy sniffed. "I blame her for everything else, I might as well blame her for this."

Kim smiled, dug around in her coat pocket and found a clean tissue. She handed it to Nancy.

After she'd wiped her eyes and nose, she sighed wearily and sat back. "I guess I always knew deep down that there would be more depressions." She ran a hand through her hair and it fell magically back into place. "I guess I just thought that I was doing all the right things, you know? Taking care of myself and trying to stay healthy and everything."

"So what do you think did it?" Kim asked.

Nancy cast a glance out at the throng of diners. "Work," she said. "Same old thing in state funded hospitals…so much fun, so little time." Her smile was bittersweet.

"It just never stops. Except…no, you know, that's not it. It's that no one ever gets better. I try and try and some days Kim, I swear I sweat blood to help those people. And they just don't get healed."

Kim nodded, with pursed lips. "I know. It's discouraging sometimes." She touched the fork which sat in front of her. "Any way you could get some time off?"

Nancy snorted. "Oh yeah. I'll just tell my department chief that I'm taking a few weeks off to find myself. I'm sure he'd love to try to cover the 700 patients we have with one less doctor." Her expression faded suddenly and she grabbed Kim's hand. "Kimmie, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be such a pain in the ass…I'm just-- I'm just --"

Kim patted her hand. "You're just not quite yourself right now. And we're going to start on that right now." Kim dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out her prescription pad. "Have you got a pen?"

Nancy chuckled as she located a pen in her coat. "Do you always carry your prescription pad with you?"

Kim gave her a look. "I just got off my shift, give me a break."

She scribbled on the small pad while Nancy watched.

"What did your last doctor give you?" Kim asked.

"Zoloft," Nancy said, making a face. "I thought it was shit. Made me so edgy."

"Okay, well that was before the newest stuff, which is much faster acting, as you know." Kim signed the prescription and ripped the page off.

"Take the Effexor in the morning, and we'll go with the time released kind so you don't have to fuss with it all day. We'll try 75 mg for a week and then bump you up gradually. At night, take 150 mg of the Serzone and that will offset the edginess from the Effexor. Start the Serzone tonight."

Nancy nodded and put the script in her purse.

Kim was scribbling on another little page now. "I want to see you tomorrow at five thirty --I get off at five and I'll be in my office."

Nancy eyes filled up again and she nodded.

"Now, this," Kim said ripping off the page, "is a list of phone numbers. My house, my office, my pager, my cell, Kerry's house, her pager and her cell." Kim handed her the page and gave her a piercing look. "If you have any suicidal thoughts, or even if you just experience suicidal ideation, or if you decide you'd like someone to bring you a chocolate sundae in the middle of the night, you are going to call these numbers and find me, got it?"

Nancy nodded.

"I don't care where you are or what time of day or night it is, you are going to drag your ass to a phone and dial. Are we clear?"

Nancy nodded again.

"And I want you to talk to Craig. Tonight. Just enough so that he knows what's going on with you," Kim said. "You need his support but he can't help if you keep him in the dark."

Nancy nodded reluctantly then said, "One thing…?"

"What?"

"Are you this much of a bitch with all your patients?"

Kim smiled and shook her head. "Just the ones I care about."

Nancy looked at her hands in her lap. "Thanks, Kimmie," she said, her voice hoarse with tears.

"For you, anything," Kim said. "Now can you get that filled on your own, or would you like me to bring you to the pharmacy?"

"I'll do it," Nancy said, slipping the list of numbers into her purse. "I don't want to keep you from your lady love."

Kim waved her words away and watched Nancy put her suit jacket on. "You know, you look good, Legaspi. Tired and too thin, but good."

Kim laughed a little. "Thanks. I think."

Nancy straightened her jacket and buttoned the top button. "I'm not so far gone that I don't recognize when you're in love."

Kim felt her neck get pink.

"Except there's something different this time…" Nancy said, pausing as she counted out money for the bill.

"Different? What do you mean?"

Nancy cocked her head and pursed her lips. "I think it's the first time that I've seen you in love and…" She trailed off.

"And?"

"And happy at the same time," Nancy said.

Kim blinked and her mind reeled through possibilities. She looked over at Nancy, a stunned expression on her face. "Oh, God…I think you have something there."

Nancy smirked and slid out of the booth, dragging her black coat with her. "I may be mentally ill, but I'm still one hell of a psychiatrist. Come on, walk me to my car."

Kim sat there for a moment, lost in thought, then snapped to. She grabbed her coat and followed.

Section Two

The door of the lounge swung silently open a crack.

"Dr. Weaver?"

Kerry looked over her glasses towards the voice. "Yes, Jing-mei?"

"Do you have a minute?" Chen asked, creeping forward into the dimly lit lounge.

Kerry looked at the piles of charts to be reviewed which formed a small mountain range around her. "Absolutely," Kerry said, whipping off her glasses. "What can I do for you?"

Chen took another tentative step forward, then stopped and wrung her hands.

"Well, actually, I just wanted to…well, I wanted to apologize to you about things I may have…well, said earlier and I wanted to say that I have nothing but respect for both you and Dr. Legaspi and I think it's wonderful that you're…you know, together and everything."

Kerry looked blankly at her. Chen wrung her hands and continued.

"I knew a girl in college who was a, uh, uh, lesbian and she was…very nice." Chen sighed heavily. "This isn't going very well, is it?"

Kerry waited.

"I guess what I wanted to say was that I'm very comfortable with the fact that you and Dr. Legaspi…well, I'm happy for you, really, and I wanted you to know that I don't think any less of either of you because of it."

Kerry's eyebrows arched. "Well, I'm glad to have your approval," she said.

Chen smiled uncertainly, then turned to leave.

"Jing-mei?"

"Yes?"

"I wonder if you've ever noticed how many Asian-American doctors are on the staff of the ER?"

Chen paused. "Well, besides me, only one."

"So Asian-American doctors are definitely in the minority down here in this department, aren't they?"

Chen nodded. "I suppose."

Kerry leaned forward, propping her elbows on the open chart before her. "Do you think anyone would ever think less of Asian-American doctors simply because they are in the minority in this department?"

"Well, of course not, I think that --" Chen's mouth dropped open and she flushed. "Oh. Oh. I see what you're saying now. That would be ridiculous. And prejudiced." She backed out the door, bowing slightly to Kerry as she went. "Well, thank you, Dr. Weaver. I appreciate it."

Kerry watched the door for a minute wondering when exactly she had become a public service announcement for the gay and lesbian community. She shook her head, then put her glasses back on and continued trying to decipher Malucci's printing. The lounge door opened again and Kerry looked up.

Kim breezed in, still wearing her coat, and looking over her shoulder. "What's the matter with Jing-mei? She looks like she just saw a ghost."

Kerry chuckled. "She did, I think. The ghost of her residency."

Kim gave her a funny look. "Beg your pardon?"

Kerry waved it off. "Long story and one probably best not repeated." She got up and pulled off her lab coat and made her way to her locker. She hung the white coat up, tossed her stethoscope on the top shelf, grabbed her trench coat and slammed the door shut with a metallic clank. She turned and Kim was there beside her.

Kim was smiling in a curious way -- not quite happy, but rather as if she had some wonderful secret. Before Kerry could speak, Kim spanned the short distance between them and kissed her gently on the lips. She straightened up, amused now at Kerry's startled expression.

"What was that for?" Kerry asked.

Kim took her coat from her and held it up so that she could slide into it. "I'm just feeling grateful. That's all."

Kerry shrugged her coat on and examined the taller woman's expression for a moment. "I see," Kerry said, but she knew she didn't.

Kim laughed a little. "Come on," she said, slipping her arm through Kerry's. "I'll tell you about it on the way home."

Kerry lifted her head and glanced around through sleep fogged eyes. She could hear Lenny Briscoe making a sarcastic comment about a dead body and then the theme to "Law and Order" kicked in and Kerry had to shake her head a little to dislodge the sense of disorientation that was nearly making her dizzy. She got up on her elbows and looked around.

She was on Kim's living room floor, in a nest of blankets and pillows, Kim beside her, sound asleep, her hair splayed out around her. A couple of candles flickered at various spots around the room and everything was bathed in the strobing blue light of the television. The coffee table, which had been pushed far to one side, still held the remains of the Thai food they had picked up on the way home and the dregs of a bottle of wine.

The "Law and Order" music was over now and someone was extolling the virtues of the new Lincoln Continental at the top of their lungs. Kerry sat up and searched for the remote and quickly turned the television off before this electronic huckster could wake Kim.

The silence was blessed and she laid back down in the little den they'd made on the floor, propping her head with one hand to watch Kim sleep. Kim lay on her back, the blankets at her waist, her breasts gloriously exposed, her face relaxed and somehow so young in this light. Kerry still had the scent of her in her nose, on her hands, in her hair and if she breathed in deeply enough, she was almost drunk with the smell of her.

It had started innocently enough.

Dressed in well-worn sweats and t-shirts of Kim's, they had installed themselves with blankets, pillows and take out Thai on Kim's couch to eat, and watch "The Philadelphia Story" on video. Kerry had noticed that Kim was still rubbing her forehead and massaging her neck with one hand while they ate.

"Is your headache back?" Kerry asked.

Kim nodded. "Can't seem to shake it."

"Come here. Let me rub your shoulders."

Kim took her wine glass and settled onto the floor in front of Kerry and immediately moaned when Kerry laid her hands on her.

"God, you're tight," Kerry said, digging in with strong, deft fingers.

Kim groaned again. "Oh, that feels so good," she said.

Kerry worked her way down Kim's back a few more inches and she clucked her tongue. "No wonder you have a headache," she said.

Kim's head had fallen forward, blonde curls swinging a little with the rhythm of Kerry's hands.

"Listen, take off your shirt and bra and lie down on the floor," Kerry said.

Kim tucked her hair back and looked up at her with a smirk. "Well, that was romantic," she said. "Do a lot of girls fall for that line?"

Kerry chuckled. "Nobody is having sex until we loosen the knots in your back. I'd be afraid that you'd just snap in two from the tension."

So, the table had been moved and Kim's upper garments discarded and she'd laid down as she'd been instructed. Kerry lowered herself to the floor carefully, pushed her crutch away and then started in on the long, shapely back in front of her.

She was a master at it, Kim realized. The perfect amount of pressure, a sixth sense for the locating the roots of the tightest knots and the most loving touch she thought she'd ever felt. By the time Jimmy Stewart was getting Katharine Hepburn drunk at Uncle Willie's party, Kim's headache was gone, her back and shoulders had relaxed and she was cursing the laws of the state of Illinois that wouldn't allow her to propose to this heavenly creature here and now.

"Kerry," she said, thickly. "That was amazing." She hiked herself up on an elbow and rolled over. "Really, I don't think I've--"

The look on Kerry's face made her stop. She cocked her head. "What?" she asked.

Kerry shook her head slowly and reached out a hand to touch Kim's face, letting her fingers trail down to her shoulder and finally her breast. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?" she asked and her voice was a choked whisper.

Kim slipped her hand behind Kerry's neck and pulled her into a hungry kiss. Kerry moaned and then Kim felt two soft hands cupping her breasts, caressing them, making her nipples tingle and harden.

Never taking her mouth from Kerry's, she reached down and found the hem of the faded Bulls' t-shirt that Kerry wore and she pulled it up and over Kerry's head and tossed it away. Kerry was fumbling with the waistband of Kim's sweats and Kim made short work of Kerry's bra and a few moments later they lay in each other's arms, breasts and bellies pressed against each other, legs intertwined.

It had been almost frantic, that first time, as if they had been starving for each other. Afterwards, they'd lain in a sweaty heap, Kerry's leg flung over Kim's hip, their faces close together. And then the second time, Kim had driven Kerry to the edge and back again, not letting her fall, drawing out the exquisite moment before. And then she'd come, and it had been like a lightning bolt, every muscle in her body contracting at once, crying out involuntarily.

And then Kim had drawn her into her strong and comfortable arms and Kerry had slept, her head resting somewhere between Kim's shoulder and her breast.

Kim's long, flat belly rose slowly with each breath now as Kerry watched it, longing to touch her, but loathe to wake her.

Sometimes the thought occurred to her that this was almost too good to be true. Somehow these feelings, this intimacy, these moments of bliss just weren't within her realm of experience. Human beings torn in two by nature and machines, pain in her body and her heart -- she'd experienced those things and kept right on going. But this? This woman with the loving blue eyes whose touch set her on fire, laying here, naked and vulnerable, loving her? This was more than unexpected. This was…well, too good to be true. And unfortunately, Kerry Weaver's experience with life had been that things that seemed too good to be true, usually were.

She was not accustomed to such kindness from the fates. After all, the fates had given her a crutch and a left leg that was almost useless. The fates had taken away her birth family and left her always wondering. The fates had almost taken away a job that she had worked years to get. She accepted this and didn't think there was much point in whining or moaning about it. There were certain things that you were put in this world to rise above and by God, she rose.

And then she'd met Kim. And her whole understanding of the world had faltered.

Kim slept on, oblivious to Kerry's ruminations, too deeply unconscious to feel the hand which gingerly touched her hair. Kerry traced the line of Kim's profile with her eyes and wondered if she really knew how to do this. How to be this.

Kim waved to the nurse on the ward as she let herself in the secure door. "Hey, Ben," she said. "How's that boy of yours?"

"He is a perfect copy of his old man, Kim," Ben said, handing her the clipboard and indicating where she needed to sign in. "He's smart, athletic, handsome and quite the little chick magnet."

Kim chuckled as she scribbled her name and handed the board back to him. "That's quite a baby," she said. "All that and only two months old."

"You just wait," Ben said and he rolled his chair back to face his computer. "In twenty five years he'll be winning the Nobel prize and I'll be saying 'I told y'all'."

Kim laughed and headed down the hall, counting off door until she reached Room 641. She looked back at Ben, who buzzed her through, and she slipped inside.

The room was small but it accommodated two beds well enough. The walls were a pale yellow colour but someone, in a misguided effort to make the room look more cheery had painted the bars on the windows the colour of melting orange Popsicles. This mainly served to draw your attention to the fact that you were not able to leave this room when you chose.

One of the beds was empty and unmade, but the other, the one closest to the door was occupied. The sheets and blankets had been carefully pulled up and tucked in and young man with very short blondish hair was sitting on the bed, highlighter in hand, a textbook open before him. He looked up when Kim entered the room and she could see the fear in his eyes.

"Hi, Michael," she said. "We spoke yesterday. I'm --"

"Dr. Legaspi," he said and visible relief washed over him. "Hi. I'm really glad you came." He bit his lip and dried his palms self-consciously on his bathrobe. "I mean, you're the only person here I've seen before. It's nice to see a familiar face."

Kim smiled at him. "I know. This place must seem pretty scary, especially when you're not feeling well." She came around the side of the bed. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"No, please. Please sit down," Michael said. He scooted back a little to give her more room and snapped the textbook shut, pushing it out of the way.

Kim cocked her head to read the title. "Great Victorian Literature," she said. "Is that for school?"

He nodded, deep blue eyes earnest and wide. "I'm an English major and I have a lot of papers due right now. I got my friend to bring this in for me." He studied the weave of the blanket. "Actually, I find it just sort of helps me feel calm."

Kim nodded. "That's good. I'm glad you asked for it." She motioned towards the empty bed. "How are you getting on with Stephen?"

Michael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He's pretty…well, pretty weird actually. But it's okay. He hasn't threatened me or anything."

Kim nodded. "Well, listen, you're almost a full day into the three day hold. I'll keep my eyes peeled for a private room if one comes up and if you're feeling up to it today, I can ask the nurses to take you out a little bit. You know, limit your Stephen exposure."

Michael nodded. "He cries at night, you know. Like someone's chasing him and he can't run away." He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned back against the wall. "It sounds awful. You must have to go through some awful stuff to get like him."

Kim put her clipboard down on the bed. "Sounds like you've been going through some awful stuff yourself lately."

He shrugged and couldn't quite meet Kim's eyes.

"Is there anybody at school who knows you're gay, Michael?"

"A few people. My good friends. Two other gay guys I met last year at a bar, who go to my school."

"What about your parents?"

He snorted and gave her a look. "Yeah, right. I was in a rush to give them that newsflash."

Kim smiled and nodded. "I understand. Parents are a toughie." She flipped through the pages in his chart from the ER, then looked up at him. "How are you feeling?"

His colour darkened enough to make him look slightly sunburned. "Stupid."

Kim laughed softly. "Stupid? Okay, that's an interesting one. Why do you feel stupid?"

He rolled his eyes and turned his face away from Kim. "Trying to kill myself with a bottle of Advil. God, how lame is that? I mean, I try to kill myself and I can't even do that right."

"You did it perfectly right," Kim said and his eyes snapped back to hers.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you did it the best way you could have. It told everybody that you were trying to handle something big, it let us all know you need some support with it, and best of all, you're sitting here today, still able to talk to me about it." She smiled at him. "In my opinion, Michael, when the patient is still alive and able to talk about what's wrong, that's a very good outcome."

He hung his head and picked at the blanket.

Kim fixed her gaze on him. "Do you still wish you were dead?"

His head bobbed up and the fear was back. "No. God, no. I mean…" He teetered on the brink of tears for a second. "I don't want to be dead, Dr. Legaspi. I'm just not sure I can live and be gay."

Kim nodded. "Well, then. I guess now we know where we need to start." She picked up his chart and scribbled a few notes. "How did you sleep last night?"

He frowned. "Not so great. I was feeling pretty sick and Stephen was…well, being Stephen I guess and…to be honest, this place makes me kind of nervous."

"Me, too," Kim said and she watched his face for the tiny smile that dawned there. "Okay, Michael, here's what we'll do. I'm going to prescribe a really mild sedative for tonight, but only if you want it, all right? I'll leave the standing order and you just ask the nurse if you want it."

Michael nodded.

"How did you find the pills we gave you last night and this morning? The anti-depressants?"

"Fine I guess. I still feel pretty sick from all that rum and the Advil, so, I don't know."

"They take a while to work, a couple of weeks to start, but I think they'll help you through this rough patch," she said as she stood up and gathered her clipboard and his chart.

"Do you have to go?" he asked and Kim was reminded of the puppies in the pet shop window begging the passersby to take them with them.

"I do," she said, "but later this afternoon I could give you a tour of our gourmet cafeteria and maybe we could get some sodas and talk a bit. Do you think you feel up to that?"

Michael nodded vigourously. "Yeah, that would be really nice. Thank you."

"Okay," Kim said and she buzzed for Ben to unlock the door. "And Michael, I want you to think about something." The lock buzzed and she opened the door. "I want you to think about how a person -- not you, necessarily, somebody else, some hypothetical person -- could be a gay man and have a happy life. Think it over, okay?"

He nodded slowly. "Okay. I will."

"I'll see you in a few hours," Kim said and she let the door close quietly behind her.

There was a sticky note on her door when she returned to her office. "Kim, See me ASAP, Carl."

She sighed and her shoulders drooped a little. Why did this not sound like good news? Granted Carl was not one to sketch little smiley faces on his memos right after his signature, but this little missive might as well have had lightning bolts and skulls and cross bones etched all over it.

She caught him in his office, a room he rarely inhabited, she knew from experience.

"Oh, hey, Kim, thanks for coming so quickly," he said, scribbling madly on a piece of paper as he motioned to her. "Uh, close the door, would you?"

Strike one. Kim closed the door and felt a sense of dread settle deep into her belly.

"Have a seat, I'll be with you in one second," he said, rifling through the controlled chaos on his desk top.

Strike two. Carl usually spoke to you on the fly -- in the hall, the elevator, the cafeteria, wherever -- and was brief and to the point. There was no sitting. She sat down, crossed her long legs and folded her hands in her lap.

Finally he finished pushing multicoloured paper from one side of his desk to the other and he looked up at her and attempted a smile.

Shit. Strike three on gut instinct alone.

"I'm really sorry about the other night, when I dumped that shift on you, Kim, but Phil fell off the climber at the park and hurt his wrist and the nanny panicked, so I had to head home before my wife's divorce lawyer could make a case for me abusing my own kids."

"Is he okay?"

"Sprain. He's fine."

"Good. Tell him I said hi and to stay on the ground for a while."

Carl chuckled a little. "I'll tell him."

Kim waited.

"Listen, Kim the reason I wanted to see you…" he said, studying his desk blotter intently, "is this new case of yours. Michael Lynch? Attempted suicide yesterday?"

Kim nodded. "That's right. I admitted him on a 72 hour hold. I was just with him, actually. What about him?"

"Well, I was reviewing charts and I happened to notice that in your interview with him, he told you that he had been feeling despondent and confused about his sexuality."

Kim frowned slightly. "He thinks he's gay, Carl and he thought it might be better to kill himself than --" She sat up. "Oh Jesus, tell me that's not where you're going with this!"

Carl sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Now hear me out, Kim."

"Please, Carl, please tell me that you're not going to say that I have to keep my sexual orientation a secret and not use my experiences as a gay person as the very valuable therapeutic tool they are, simply because you're afraid of Romano. Because that's not the Carl de Raad that I know."

"Kim --" There was a warning in his voice and Kim cruised straight past it.

"So now Dr. Romano's homophobia is hospital policy and is going to dictate how I treat my patients?"

"Kim!" Carl said. "You're not listening. Nobody wants another Shannon Wallace incident."

"Well, gee, Carl, by that do you mean we don't want poor, scared kids trying to take their own lives because they can't take the pain of trying to live a life as a gay person? Or do you mean we'd rather avoid lawsuits that might embarrass the hospital?" Her heart was pounding in her ears now and a voice in the back of her mind knew that she was right but wondered why she was this angry.

"Give me a little credit here, okay?" Carl said. "What happened with Shannon Wallace wasn't good for anybody, you included. I've never seen you so despondent."

"So, what, are we going to troop out the pedophile police because a lesbian is counseling a potentially gay young man?" Kim crossed her arms angrily. "First I'm molesting little gay girls, now apparently I'm at risk to molest little gay boys. I sure wish that the homophobic powers that be around here would at least get their facts straight, because last time I checked, I wasn't into that whole male thing at all. That would be why they call me a lesbian."

Carl sat in his chair, biding his time, letting her blow off steam. When she'd paused for breath, he leaned forward. "Are you done, now?"

She pursed her lips and avoided his eyes. "For now."

"Fair enough," Carl said. "I only brought this to you to tell you this: we do not live or work in a perfect world. If anyone in this hospital should know that, it's the people who work day in and day out on this floor. In a perfect world, I'd have enough attendings and residents and interns and orderlies and I'd have money for programs and recreation and for a fucking Jacuzzi in the staff lunch room. But we don't have any of those things and so we do the best we can with what we've got.

"In a perfect world, we also wouldn't work under that tiny-dicked little ass hole Romano -- and if you ever tell him I called him that, I'll deny it because right now I'm doing everything short of kissing his hairy ass to get more money for this department. But I digress. The fact of the matter is that he holds the purse strings, he's got the ear of the board, and he's got almost everybody but Kerry Weaver so scared of him that if I wanted to kiss his ass, I'd have to line up."

Kim sat with her arms crossed, eyes still blazing, listening.

"But we do work for him, Kim, and we have to work around that fact sometimes, as repulsive as that may be." He leaned forward, hands laced together on his desk. "Here's another fact. I can't afford to lose you. You're one of my best people and I marvel at your therapeutic skills and your empathy. If I lost you up here, I honestly don't know what I'd do."

Kim lowered her gaze and took a deep breath to calm herself. "You're not going to lose me, Carl."

"Well, you see, that's where I worry you're wrong, because that bald little sociopath has it in for you now. And he's just waiting for you to give him a reason."

"But divulging to a patient that I am gay as part of ongoing therapy is not a reason to persecute me," Kim said. "It's a judgment call, granted, but --"

Carl held up a hand. "For what it's worth, I agree with you. I think used properly and sensitively, it could be an excellent tool. But we're not talking about my judgment. We're talking about what Romano can distort. And because of the way things went down with Shannon Wallace, you've opened up a door to him and now he's just waiting for the invitation to step through."

Kim had a flash of sitting in her robe at her dining room table, police officers staring her down, pelting her with questions and she felt queasy.

"So what are you saying, Carl?" she asked.

"I'm saying be careful. Please. For everyone's sake, but especially yours."

Kim nodded absently, and Michael's sweet, terrified face came to her suddenly.

"You know, "Carl said, leaning back in his chair, with his hands behind his head, "I've been telling Phillip for two years to be careful on that frigging jungle gym. And every time he said, 'Oh, don't worry, Dad, I'll be fine.'" He skewered Kim with his gaze. "He didn't think he could fall off and yesterday he did. Could've broken his goddam neck."

Kim looked at him for a moment. "But he didn't," she said softly.

Carl closed his eyes and groaned. "You're killing me here, Kim," he said. "You're killing me."

Kim chuckled as she got to her feet. "Yeah and everybody knows that that's Barbara's lawyer's job."

Carl laughed, a deep hearty sound. "Just think about it, okay?"

"I will," Kim said, one hand on the doorknob.

"And get some rest, will you?" he called after her. "You look like hell."

Kim shook her head as she walked away. He always said the sweetest things.

Kerry stuffed the x-ray films back into their oversized envelope and wheeled her crutch around, ready to go back to the curtain areas. It was now official, Mrs. Henderson, the 73 year old woman in curtain area one had fractured her hip in a fall down her basement steps, having tripped on her Dachshund, Fritz. It was going to keep her in the hospital for at least a few days.

She was just heading off, preparing herself to be the bearer of bad news when she saw Kim loping her way through the late afternoon madness. Kerry felt a flutter in her stomach at the sight of her -- simple green silk blouse, tailored black pants and her hair pulled back, probably in deference to the wind this morning. She looked tired, Kerry thought, and even a little like she still had that headache from yesterday. She also looked vaguely troubled and Kerry wondered what might be making her look so serious and so… sad. An image from last night seized Kerry -- Kim, her back arched in ecstasy, her head thrown back, mouth open, the creamy skin of her neck exposed and vulnerable.

Kerry nearly dropped the x-rays.

"Well, that's a curious smile," Kim said as she approached. "Makes a person wonder what you might be thinking about."

Kerry quickly glanced behind and around her before she spoke. "You, actually."

Kim leaned on the counter and smiled, her eyes twinkling. 'Oh, really? Anything in particular?"

Kerry felt herself being drawn into Kim's smile. "Actually, I was thinking about how much… you, uh, enjoyed…uh --"

Kim's eyebrows shot up. "How much I enjoyed what?"

Kerry blinked. "How much you enjoyed watching "The Philadelphia Story," she said and Kim laughed.

"I loved "The Philadelphia Story," Kerry," Kim said, straightening up and moving closer to the tiny redhead. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that watching "The Philadelphia Story" is my favourite thing in the world." She studied Kerry's eyes and her mouth, saw the rosy tone her cheeks were taking on. "But it's only my favourite if I can watch it with you." Kim adjusted the ID badge that hung from Kerry's coat pocket and Kerry felt herself shiver. Kim leaned close to her ear and fairly purred. "I could watch "The Philadelphia Story" with you every night."

Kerry's mouth hung open the slightest bit and her eyes were locked on Kim's. "Really?" she said.

Kim nodded slowly, a teasing smile on her lips. "It might be kind of fun to watch it again tonight -- maybe up in my bedroom?"

Kerry stared at her and glanced all around again, need written all over her face in block letters. And then her face fell. "I can't," she said.

Kim frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I sent Mark home early," Kerry said, gesturing with her free hand at nothing in particular. "Elizabeth has the 'flu and she called him to say that Ella has a fever-- and -- and--"

Kim nodded patiently, increasingly amused by the disruption she'd just created in Kerry's universe.

"What I'm trying to say is that Mark needed to go home to take care of the baby, so I told him to go and I'm covering his shift." Uncertainty flickered across her face. "Until ten."

Kim nodded gravely. "I see," she said.

"But, " Kerry said, hope dawning cautiously in her eyes, "maybe we could catch a late showing of it?"

Kim laughed and squeezed Kerry's arm. "It's a date," she said. She sighed and retrieved her clipboard from the counter. "I have to go, though. Somebody paged me."

"Luka," Kerry said, moving to fall in step with Kim. "A lady and her baby, brought in from a department store, I think. She was behaving strangely." Kerry paused when they reached Mrs. Henderson's gurney. "I saw you in the cafeteria earlier," she said. "It looked like you were with a patient, so I didn't interrupt."

"Michael," Kim said. "Attempted suicide yesterday. He's a little leery of the accommodations upstairs in the psych ward, so I sprung him for an hour."

"How's he doing?"

Kim waggled her hand back and forth. "About what you'd expect."

Kerry nodded.

"So, I'll see you around eleven?" Kim said.

"If you'll have me."

Kim chuckled. "I don't want to watch that movie with anybody else, Ker."

Kerry smiled and blushed a little as she watched Kim walk away, chiding herself for being so obvious, here, at work of all places. She took a deep breath, tried to wipe the shit-eating grin off her face and turned her attention back to how she was going to explain to Mrs. Henderson that Fritz was going to have to go to the kennel for a few days.

Kim spotted Luka standing outside the exam room, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Kim pulled up beside him and followed his gaze. Inside, one of the beds was occupied by a woman in her thirties with long, dark hair. She was in a hospital gown, propped up and tucked under the blankets and she was holding a very small baby.

The smile that had instinctively started to rise to Kim's lips at the sight of the tiny infant was waylaid when she noticed the mother's expression. She stared sightlessly ahead for a few moments, then suddenly shook her head and tried to block her ears with her shoulder and her free hand. All the while, her baby lay tucked in one arm like a forgotten doll. Something about it all made Kim want to look away.

"Is she on something?" Kim asked.

"Blood tests say no."

"History of mental illness?"

"She hasn't been very coherent. She couldn't say for sure."

"Have we at least got a name?"

Luka sighed and slid his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "Diana Calvecchio. We found some ID in her wallet. Abby is trying to contact the husband and she's already got the nanny coming in. Maybe she can fill in some blanks."

"Calvecchio," Kim said. "I wonder if she's any relation to that alderman or councilman or whatever that guy is."

Luka shrugged. "Could be. We'll find out soon, I hope."

"What are her hormone levels like?"

"We're just waiting on the labs."

Kim jotted down some notes to herself. "Who brought her in?"

"The police," Luka said. "A security guard at a big department store called them and said she was behaving strangely, talking to herself and yelling."

Kim wrote some more and then looked back into the exam room at the women.

"Are you thinking post-partum depression?" Luka asked.

"That wouldn't quite explain all the symptoms," Kim said. "You've spoken to her. What do you think?"

Luka glanced at the dark haired woman and her neglected infant. "Post-partum psychosis?"

"It's rare," Kim said.

"But it happens." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I couldn't get her to talk enough to tell if she was delusional." He smiled and patted Kim on the shoulder. "But then, that's why we have you."

Kim chuckled wryly. "Yeah, that's me, the Swiss Army knife to Cook County ER."

Luka laughed and turned to go.

"Luka," Kim called after him, "can you ask Abby to get a bassinette ready and then to drop by the exam room. I might need a hand."

Luka nodded and strode off.

Diana Calvecchio was a beautiful woman, Kim decided. Or at least she was when she took care of herself. And when disembodied voices weren't shrieking in both ears.

It had taken a while to get her talking -- not because she was unco-operative, but because she was so distracted by the sound and light show that her unbalanced brain was putting on for her. Kim did get her to tell her that the baby's name was Tyler and that he was five weeks old.

"He's a beautiful boy," Kim said, giving Tyler an index finger to grip. She looked over at Diana. "Do you breastfeed?"

At first, the woman's expression was blank, but then Kim could see the tide of panic rising in her eyes. "I don't know!" she said. "I -- I can't remember!" She gripped Kim's arm. "Why can't I remember?"

Before Kim could reach out a hand to calm her, the frantic woman let Tyler roll out of her arms and onto her lap, so that she could slap both hands over her ears, her face a mask of pain.

Tyler, having been abruptly awoken, was working himself up to release a mighty howl when Kim deftly slipped him off his mother's lap. She laid him down beside Diana's thigh, in the space between her leg and edge of the bed, then scooted the stool up against the bed frame, so that she could keep a hand on him.

She gently rubbed his belly to soothe him and glanced up at his mom, saw the struggle going on within her.

"Even if you cover your ears, you can still hear them, can't you?" Kim said softly.

Diana froze and her tortured eyes locked on Kim. "You know about that?"

Kim nodded, drawing circles with her fingers on Tyler's terrycloth covered tummy.

"The voices," Diana said. "You know about the voices?"

Kim nodded again. "Some of my other patients have told me about them."

"Do you hear them?"

Only on days like this one, Kim thought. She shook her head. "But a lot of people have talked to me about them. About how hard it is because you can't make them stop and go away on your own."

Diana rubbed her eyes hard. "It's -- it's just-- I don't know what to do sometimes."

"Can you tell me what the voices are saying to you, Diana?"

"No. Oh, no." She shook her head vigorously. "No. I'm not supposed to."

"I see," Kim said. Tyler was dozing off again, and Kim rested her hand lightly on him. "Okay. Can you tell me about what you were doing at the department store?"

"I was shopping."

Kim felt Tyler sigh. "What were you shopping for?"

Diana picked at her nails, which Kim noticed were expensively manicured. "Nothing. Just a roasting pan."

"A roasting pan," Kim said. "You didn't have one already?"

"I didn't have the right size. I needed something just the right size." Diana's eyes were busy, roaming the room as if she was looking for an escape route.

Kim ran a delicate hand over Tyler's forehead, his tiny silken hairs tickling her a palm. "What size did you need? Are you having a party or something?"

Diana's eyes flicked down to Tyler and then back up so quickly, Kim wasn't entirely sure at first that she'd actually seen it.

And then it hit her. Her mouth nearly fell open and her stomach knotted itself into a solid lump.

"Diana," she said slowly and deliberately once she'd found her voice, "were you going to put Tyler in the roasting pan?"

Diana nodded, her dark eyes glued to Kim.

"And then what were you going to do?"

"I was going to put him in the oven for a while," she said and she was gesturing wildly as she spoke, "but it wasn't going to hurt him you know, because they said if I just put a little pillow on his face first, after a while he'd just stop breathing."

Kim made herself pull in another breath and she fought to keep her face relaxed. She kept a protective hand on Tyler, who slept on, dreaming his newborn dreams.

Kim stole a peek at the observation window and sighed with relief when she spotted Abby in her pastel scrubs, headed towards them.

Diana suddenly grabbed Kim's hand and Kim jumped a little.

"You realize I have to do this, don't you? He's bad." There was a strange fire in her eyes and every instinct told Kim to move away. Instead, she willed herself to stay calm, all the while keeping a tight grip on Tyler's sleepers.

"Diana, listen to me," Kim said, drawing the woman's attention away from the baby, "the voices that you're hearing are making you very confused. You need some medicine to help you --"

The door to the exam room opened and Abby walked in, pushing a bassinette. She looked at Kim, a friendly smile on her face.

"Dr. Legaspi, I have the --" She stopped abruptly, the emotional energy in the room nearly knocking her backwards.

An eternity passed and no one moved.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Diana Colvecchio, having done the math and realizing that, even if she counted her voices, she was now outnumbered, flew up out of the bed, screaming in a remarkably banshee like fashion. At the same instant, Kim, sensing the explosion a heartbeat before it happened, had swept Tyler off the bed and into her arms, dropping into a protective curl around his tiny body. Kim could see Abby's frozen expression as she stood with one hand still on the little bed. Another second and Diana Calvecchio was on her, powerful hands grabbing at Kim's arms, at Tyler, manicured nails seeking out Kim's face.

Abby's mouth dropped open and Kim shouted, "Five migs of Halperidol and two of lorazepam! Hurry! And get security!"

Kim moved like a demented basketball player, staying low with Tyler clutched to her chest, pivoting and dodging the shrieking woman in the hospital gown, looking for an opening through which to escape.

Pounding footsteps and there were Luka and Haleh, flying into the room, swooping down on this psychotic caricature of Tyler's mother. They gently wrestled her back to the bed and a moment later, Abby ran through the door with a loaded syringe and handed it to Luka. Abby hurried over to Kim.

"Are you all right?" she said, slipping an arm around Kim's back. "Is the baby all right?"

Kim slowly straightened up and tried to catch her breath. She gingerly tipped Tyler away from her silk shirt which was now very moist with baby drool and they both looked at him. His eyes were partly open, and he gazed at them with a lethargic expression, then gurgled and started to fall asleep again.

Abby gently took him from Kim. "God, I'm really sorry, Dr. Legaspi. I didn't realize -- I mean, Luka said you needed a bassinette, I thought, great, a baby." She tucked him expertly into a blanket and laid him down on the little bed. "Too many years in OB, I guess."

Kim waved her off as she stretched the tension out of her neck. "That's okay. You timing couldn't have been better."

"Listen, are you okay?" Abby said, moving closer and examining Kim's face and neck. "Did she hurt you at all?"

Kim massaged her neck with one hand and waved Abby off with the other. "No, I'm fine. You just take care of him."

Abby nodded and wheeled the bassinette out.

Kim looked over at the bed where Diana Calvecchio lay in a boneless heap. Her eyes were open and she was mumbling and Kim thought for a moment about what it was going to be like for this woman when her hormones and her neurotransmitters all evened out so that she was herself again. That was when she was going to realize how close she'd come to putting her child into a roasting pan and shoving him in an oven. That was going to be the real hard part.

"Dr. Legaspi, do you want me to call an orderly to bring this lady up to psych?" Haleh asked. "You are going to admit her, right?"

Kim chuckled and let out a ragged breath. "Yes, I'm going to admit her."

Haleh headed off to a find a phone and Kim looked around for a chair to sit in until her knees stopped feeling so weak. A figure caught her eye and there was Kerry at the observation window, still as death, her face tight with fear.

Kim gave her a wave. "I'm okay," she mouthed and Kerry watched her for a few more seconds, as if she was memorizing something. Then she nodded and walked away.

Kim reached for Mrs. Calvecchio's chart and started to write.

Kerry pulled a chart out of the stack of cases waiting to be seen and scanned chairs to get a sense of numbers waiting. Not bad. She opened the chart and read about the fifteen year old male with fishhook embedded in his penis and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. How the hell did people do these things to themselves?

"Is she okay?"

Kerry looked up, having vaguely heard a voice nearby, but not entirely sure whom it was addressing. Randi was two feet away, leaning on the counter and staring at her.

"Beg your pardon?" Kerry said.

"Dr. Legaspi. I heard that some crazy lady jumped her. Is she okay?"

The lack of attitude and sarcasm startled Kerry at first and she looked at Randi as if she'd never seen her before. Finally, she pulled herself back into control and closed the chart she held. "Uh, yeah. She's fine, actually." She studied Randi a moment longer. "Thanks for asking though."

Randi nodded, her dark eyes never moving from Kerry's face. "You know, everybody down here really likes her."

"Oh?" Kerry said and a little voice told her that this conversation had definitely stepped over into the surreal now.

"Yeah, they do," Randi said, "and you want to know why?"

Kerry wasn't sure if she did or not, but she nodded a little.

"She comes when you page her, she doesn't bitch about being here and she can talk the biggest crazies right off the ceiling. Oh, and she gives a shit, you know?"

Kerry nodded, her eyes wide and tried to think of something to say. "Dr. Legaspi is an excellent doctor," was what she came up with.

"You bet your ass," Randi said, straightening up. "Oh, I mean, … well, you know what I mean."

Kerry smiled a little. "I do."

Randi lingered there a moment longer as if she had something else to say, then without a word turned and left. Kerry watched her go and shook her head. The fishhook in the penis didn't sound quite so odd anymore.

Kim handed Nancy a box of tissues, then sat down beside her on the small couch.

"I'm sorry," Nancy said, "Christ, I am so sorry, I just can't seem to keep this under control today."

The dark haired woman was leaned over, elbows on her knees, head in her hands sobbing and had been doing so since she's walked into Kim's office ten minutes before.

"It's okay, Nance," Kim said and she rubbed her back in slow circles. "It's just part of the whole depression thing. You can't control it."

"I know, but….Fuck! It's just so useless, you know?"

Kim nodded. "Did you have a chance to talk to your section supervisor today about some time off?"

Nancy nodded, sniffing and wiping her face with sodden tissues. "I did and he was wonderful about it. We're going to reduce my patient load by almost half. He's a really good guy and he seems to understand."

"Does he need a letter or anything from me about treatment for your file?"

Nancy shook her head, then blew her nose and tried to pull herself together. "No, I told him I was seeing you and what you'd prescribed and everything and he's fine with that."

She sat up straight and took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Kim reached over and picked up the two mugs of herbal tea she'd prepared earlier and handed one to Nancy.

"Did you talk to Craig yet?" Kim asked, breathing in the soothing spicy orange scent of the tea.

Nancy snorted. "Yeah, for what good it did."

Kim sipped her tea, then kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up under her. "What happened? He didn't hear it well?"

"We argued -- well, we struggled, really," Nancy said. "He just can't quite get it, even after all these years. He still seems to think that I should just be able to pull myself up by the bootstraps, you know, just exercise that Anglo-Saxon work ethic muscle and overcome." She cradled her mug in her hands and shook her head. "I love him but sometimes I just want to strangle him." She looked over at Kim. "That was not homicidal ideation by the way."

Kim chuckled. "Okay, thanks." She ran a slender finger around the lip of her mug. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Nancy hesitated, then shook her head. "No, I doubt it would do any good."

Kim nodded but wondered if she should perhaps call in an unofficial capacity, as a friend, to let him know that his wife was sick and she needed him to pull his head out of his ass.

"All these patients I see, Kim…I don't know if it's the depression talking or if I'm just seeing things clearly, but,…" She turned and looked at Kim. "Nobody gets better, you know? Nobody get healed or fixed or, or…or even just a little bit better."

Kim laid a gentle hand on her friend's arm. "That might be the effects of the depression, Nancy. It's making things seem really bleak right now.

"Is it?" Nancy's eyes were wide and remarkably child-like suddenly and Kim could see that she was feeling completely lost at this moment. "Or is it that they really are that bleak?" Nancy asked. "Because I'm forgetting why I wanted to do this, Kim."

"Why you wanted to do psychiatry? Oh my God, Nancy, I can remember for you. Do you remember in our second year of residency when your supervisor found out you were doing extra 'off-the-record' shifts down in the pedes oncology ward, and he stormed down there to confront you?"

Nancy chuckled the slightest bit. "He was a control freak wasn't he? And an arrogant bastard to boot."

"And he waved his arms around at the long halls of rooms filled with all these terribly sick little kids and he says --"

"Dr. Elliot, your residency work is to be done upstairs on the psych ward," Nancy said making her voice sound deep and pompous. "And if you don't soon abandon this ridiculous quest to 'heal' everyone you meet, you will no longer be a resident at this hospital. I will tell you who your patients are and how to treat them. And anyway, do you know how many children there are in the world with cancer? You can't possibly help them all."

Kim smiled gently at her friend. "And then you looked down at the little tyke hanging off your arm and said, 'But Dr. Langer, I can help this one."

Nancy laughed a little. "I thought he was going to have a stroke."

Kim watched her, seeing the flashes of her old friend seep through the cracks in the depression. "That's why you do it, Nancy. Because you're loving and compassionate and so goddam good at what you do. You do it because you can. It's who you are."

Nancy took a long sip of her tea, then stared into the depths of the cup, a thoughtful look on her face. "Who I am," she said and she chuckled softly. "I keep thinking about my mother these past few days. I see her in myself when I'm like this. So exhausted that I can't function and emotional and irritable and so negative." She ran a hand through her slightly disheveled hair. "I hate it, but it's there."

"Your mother coped with a serious chronic illness at a time when depression wasn't understood and when there really weren't any medications to help."

"She didn't need medications…she had her friends."

"Her friends?"

"Yeah. Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, Johnnie Walker and that English Beefeater guy," Nancy said. "You know, the usual crowd."

Kim smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah, I guess it was all she could think of to do. The crime is that it made it so hard for you." She touched Nancy's shoulder.

Nancy shrugged. "Life is hard for everybody. I work in a state mental asylum, I know that better than almost anyone." She sipped more tea and Kim thought she could sense her unwinding a little. "Mainly I try to see her as a really good example of a bad example. I think of what my mother would do and then I do the opposite. That approach has actually worked out quite well for me."

Kim smiled. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. Not much. The Serzone hasn't kicked in yet. I felt dizzy a lot today, though. Probably the first wave of Effexor."

"You'll feel so much better when it gets to full strength." Nancy nodded and Kim noticed that she looked so much more exhausted than yesterday. She took a deep breath. "Is there anything I could say or do to convince you to maybe check yourself in for a few days? I have a friend who owes me a favour and he works at this very secluded, peaceful sort of retreat center and rehab clinic and I could --"

Nancy shook her head and held up a hand to silence Kim.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Kim said. "You could take maybe a week or two from work -- no more than regular holidays -- and you wouldn't have to cook or work or shop or anything, you could just rest until the drugs start to work a bit."

"No," Nancy said. "I have patients and two residents to supervise and --"

"You're not going to be any good to anyone if you crash, Nance."

"I know that and I don't intend to. We've reduced my case load, that will help but I feel like I just need to keep moving, you know? Moving slowly, granted, but moving."

Kim sighed and studied her friend. "I am saying this as your doctor, Nancy, and as someone who loves you and cares about what happens to you: I wish you would consider this idea."

Nancy put her mug down on the little coffee table and stood up, straightening her skirt and jacket. "I'll be fine, Kim. And anyway, if you were that worried, you'd admit me on an involuntary hold and you're not doing that."

Kim's eyes were wide and serious. "Maybe I should."

Nancy smiled at her, as if she was dear child who had just said something clever. "You won't. You know I'll be okay." She grabbed her coat and draped it over her arm.

"You still got those numbers?" Kim asked.

Nancy nodded and patted the pocket of her coat. "If I feel trouble coming on, you'll be the first to know, Legaspi."

Kim tried to smile. "I'd better be," she said, but Nancy was already out the door.

Kim sat there a few more moments, wrapping her hands around her mug to warm her hands which felt very cold suddenly. Finally, she put her tea on the coffee table and made her way to her desk in her stockinged feet. A quick flip through her daytimer and she was punching a number into her phone.

"Hello," she said, when her call was answered. "This is Kim Legaspi and I'd like to make an appointment to see Dr. Goldman, please….Tomorrow, if she's free."

Section Three

The house seemed strangely quiet when Kerry let herself in at a quarter to eleven that night. She had wrapped up her shift at ten and then moved heaven and earth to dispense with all the post-shift paperwork and her own usual ER chief demands quickly. She had pulled into a parking spot across from Kim's house, seen the warm glow from the living room and fairly tingled with the knowledge that Kim was there, waiting for her.

But now she wasn't so sure. Although she did detect the faintest hint of classical piano drifting into the hall, that was the only sign that anyone might be home. She hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes, then padded through the kitchen, taking note of the dirty bowl and spoon in the sink and the box of Special K, still on the counter. Another nutritional supper, Kerry thought as she crutched her way to the living room.

She located the source of the music -- a CD of Chopin's Nocturnes in the stereo, set on repeat. Kerry saw Kim sprawled out on the couch, files and notes scattered all around her, and wondered just how many times the CD had repeated.

She stepped closer, trying not to make a noise and gazed down at Kim, taking in her relaxed features and the delicately curled fingers which rested on the sofa cushion near her face. Kerry realized, not for the first time, that Kim was breathtaking. So beautiful that sometimes is actually hurt to look at her, like gazing into a light that was too white.

For only the briefest moment, Kerry thought about waking her so that she could lead her upstairs to her bed and lay with her, wrapping herself around Kim's warm, lithe body until she forget the day that had been. But then, Kerry remembered how exhausted she'd looked tonight when her shift had been over and she knew she should let her sleep. She sighed, partly out of sadness and a little out of regret, then she moved quietly around the living room, turning off the CD player, extinguishing lights. Finally, she silently slipped papers off Kim's lap and gently covered her with the throw blanket from the end of the sofa.

Kerry hesitated then, trying to put her finger on what exactly was gnawing at her insides. She stood perfectly still, looking at a shaft of moonlight streaming in the window and suddenly she knew. She missed Kim. She had missed her for quite some time but could only now give a name to that nebulous sense of loneliness and hollowness that had dogged her lately. It was that simple. She missed Kim. She missed her and she was afraid.

Kerry started at that last thought and was instantly in motion, heading towards the stairs. Enough introspection for one night, she thought. I'm too tired to think about this now.

"…I know the price of this to me,
I'll light the candle that shines on you..."

-MCC

The board was overflowing, half the metropolitan area was in chairs hoping to get on the board and making an unholy racket while they waited, and still she heard him from the other end of the hall.

"Kerry, I want to talk to you about your ball and chain," Romano bellowed as he pushed his way through the masses of patients and staff between him and the desk. "And where the hell did all these people come from?"

Kerry considered turning and walking away. She also considered nailing him in the forehead with her crutch. That last visual allowed her to greet him with a smile.

"Good morning, Robert," she said, moving away from the desk and hoping he'd follow so that she could keep whatever conversation that was going to ensue out of the earshot of the waiting patients, if not the staff. "What brings you downstairs this morning?"

"That bubble-headed girlfriend of yours," he said, planting himself, hands on his hips, in front of her. "I spent an hour of my very precious, not to mention expensive, time on the phone this morning with one Mr. Mark Calvecchio. You might have heard of him. He sits at the right hand of God on the city council and knows people in places so high even I have only heard about them."

"So?" Kerry headed further down the hall. He followed.

"So, Mr. Calvecchio was extremely surprised and chagrined to find, upon returning from a business trip to New York, that his wife had been admitted to the Cook County Hospital psychiatric ward by your little psych dyke and was being kept on a 72 hour hold."

Kerry turned into the meds room and started scanning rows of pills and vials. "It was my understanding that Mrs. Calvecchio was diagnosed as suffering from post-partum psychosis and in fact posed a risk to the safety of her newborn son and therefore required hospitalization." She craned to look up at the top shelves. "And anyway, this is all beside the point, Robert because if you have a problem with Dr. Legaspi's actions, you need to talk to Carl De Raad about it, not me." She pointed up at the top shelf with her free hand. "Can you reach that box of insulin up there, please?"

Romano stepped forward and stretched as high as he could, to no avail.

"That's all right, Robert," Kerry said. "I can ask Luka, later."

Romano's bald forehead was the least bit pink, Kerry noticed.

"Have you spoken to Carl?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes, and he was about as helpful as an abscess. Damn psychiatrists, they're all the same. Bunch of bleeding heart assholes and pantywaists."

"Well, that's too bad, but there's nothing I can do about it, so --"

"Oh, I think there is," he said, hands on his hips again.

"Robert, I'm not Dr. Legaspi's supervisor."

"No, but she's your girlfriend or wife or whatever the hell you people call yourselves and frankly, Kerry, I'm disappointed in you. I would've thought you'd have her on a shorter leash."

Kerry felt her face getting warm. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look, I'm bringing this to you as a friend, Kerry. Don't let yourself and your career be blindsided by those incredible ti-- uh, eyes of hers. She's incompetent and that's all there is to it. And when the malpractice suit comes down, your name is going to be right there beside mine on the line that says 'defendant.'"

Kerry banged her crutch into the floor. "I have every confidence in Dr. Legaspi's abilities. She is not only competent, she's one of the most caring and dedicated psychiatrists I've ever had the privilege to work with. And I would be happy to say that and more before the board. Or in front of a judge, when she sues you for slander." Her eyes narrowed dangerously but her voice stayed low and calm. "Incompetent is a dangerous word, Robert and I'd be careful using it without the proper evidence. Because then it wouldn't be my name on the line that says defendant. It would just be yours."

He held her gaze long enough to smirk. "Can you stay on the topic here, Kerry? This is about the possibility of the hospital getting some really terrible publicity as a result of an unhappy husband, who also happens to be very high profile. As chief, I have to think about things like that."

"Well then, tell me, Robert, as chief, would you have preferred that Dr. Legaspi have released Mrs. Calvecchio, thus allowing her to kill and cook her baby less than 24 hours after she'd seen a psychiatrist at County?" She raised her eyebrows in mock confusion. "I'm no expert but I think there'd probably be some pretty nasty publicity from that, too. And maybe a lawsuit as well."

He threw up his hands. "God, how you people stick together." He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. "I'm not kidding, Kerry. She's dangerous. Reel her in."

He turned and bumped into Randi, then took a step back and looked her outfit over from top to bottom and back again.

"What's the matter?" he said. "Was your regular corner already taken this morning?" He chuckled at his own wit and strode off.

Randi and Kerry made eye contact and Kerry closed her eyes and shook her head. "I know," she said.

"You're kind of in charge here, Dr. Weaver," Randi said. "Isn't there some way you could arrange to have that little creep put down?" She rolled her eyes once more for good measure, then hurried off.

Kerry leaned against the wall and blew out an angry sigh.

The polished door at the end of the room opened and Kim looked up from the copy of the "Economist" magazine that she held and felt herself start to smile.

"Kim," a tiny woman with sparkling dark eyes said, and there was such affection in her voice that Kim felt momentarily overcome.

"Charlotte," she said, getting to her feet to greet her, "It's so good to see you." Kim bent to embrace her and Charlotte kissed her warmly on each cheek.

"You are more beautiful every time we meet," Charlotte said and she tucked Kim's hand under her arm and led her into her office, shutting the door behind them.

"What a wonderful surprise I had this morning when I saw your name in my book. And the first visit of the day. It is a good sign," she said, moving to the sleek coffeemaker not far from her huge cherry wood desk. "You will have coffee, yes?"

"Yes," Kim said and still she found herself smiling. Charlotte's office hadn't changed noticeably. She might have obtained a few more objets d'arts, but it looked remarkably like it had looked the first day that she'd crept across the threshold, a somewhat cocky, but deep-down terrified first year resident, obligated by her program to spend time working out her own issues with a therapist before they would unleash her on the unsuspecting mentally ill.

Dozens of late afternoons spent with Charlotte, in this room, sipping tea or sometimes Campari, as the mood struck her, discussing life and God and family and death and politics. And learning more about psychiatry than she ever had on the ward, or in her classes.

Charlotte brought her a delicate tea cup and saucer filled with steaming, aromatic coffee. Kim took it and chuckled. "I've missed your Viennese roast, Charlotte. It's one of my fondest memories of my residency."

Charlotte made a noise and waved her hand at Kim, then returned to get her own cup. She was a tiny woman, but her presence filled the entire room. She was at home here, among these thick Oriental carpets and expensive antiques. Kim noticed that her chestnut coloured hair was grayer than when they'd last met, but she was, as always, perfectly coiffed and the gray just made her look wiser anyway. Today she wore a very carefully tailored skirt and jacket that were a scarlet red -- Kim figured it had probably come from her native France, partly because it fit her so well, but also because she doubted anyone over here could've pulled it off like Charlotte.

"You must come and sit," Charlotte said, patting the spot on the sofa. "We need to catch up."

Kim sat, stopping long enough to take a long sip of her coffee. She closed her eyes. Even the coffee hadn't changed.

"How is Daniel?" Kim asked.

Charlotte's smile was quick and natural. "Daniel is well. His diabetes is under control again and unless he works too hard like the old fool that he is, he is usually well. He leaves in a few days for India on a conference. An inter-faith meeting of the minds of some sort. He will be seated beside the Dalai Lama at one of the seminars and I have heard about nothing but this for weeks." She sipped her coffee daintily. "And now you must tell me who you are seeing these days."

"Why do you think I'm seeing someone?" Kim asked.

Charlotte chuckled wisely. "Because I see your face, cherie."

Kim reddened and hung her head. "Her name is Kerry. She's an ER doctor at the hospital where I work."

Charlotte's eyebrows rose as she listened. "And she is how old?"

"Early forties."

"So she is so much the wiser than you, yes?"

Kim recognized the teasing and laughed. "She is wise about a lot of things," she said.

"Ah, but not others?"

Kim took a long deep breath, thinking. "She's a little new to being gay. This is her first relationship with a woman, as far as I know."

Charlotte drank more of her coffee, nodding. "And this is causing problems for you how?"

"It took a while for me to remember what it was like not being out," she said. "I had to realize that just because I had dealt with something and was comfortable with it didn't mean that she was automatically in the same place, you know?" She regarded the saucer and cup she held. "It was hard at first -- it still is sometimes -- but I -- well, I'm very committed to this."

Charlotte's eyebrows flew up again. "Oh, such words. 'Committed.'" She leveled Kim with a look. "I would like to hear feelings, please."

Kim squirmed. "Of course I love her, Charlotte," she said. "I think that she might be the one I want to last. You know, for the long haul."

"Why?" Charlotte asked, putting her cup on the table in front of them. "Is she good in bed?"

Kim's cup rattled on her saucer.

"I know, you are thinking, always with the sex," Charlotte said, "but you and I know, Kim, that the sex is like the thermometer of the relationship. I am simply the doctor taking the temperature, do you see?"

Kim put her cup down as well, in preparation for further questions from Charlotte. "The sex is very good," she said, a slightly self-conscious smile creeping up. "Pretty much the most tender and intimate I've ever had, I think."

Charlotte sat back, lacing her hands together on her petite lap. "This is excellent. Tell me more."

"Well, as I said, this is still all kind of new to her, but she's such an incredibly attentive lover. And although she can be a little -- well, rigid, I suppose, when we're alone she's amazing, so much more free-spirited and warm and uninhibited." Kim sat up straighter. "And so compassionate. I once saw her run a trauma on a teenager who had been hit by a car in a crosswalk." She shook her head in wonder. "He was on the verge of death when they brought him in. I remember thinking, I better stick around, they might need me to talk to his parents when he dies."

"He did not die," Charlotte said.

"No. I watched Kerry work on him and it was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen. Medically, technically, and… and… spiritually. She was right there with him the whole time, talking to him and telling him what she was doing and that he needed to just hang on for a minute or two." Kim smiled in embarrassment at the tears springing to her eyes. "It was so moving. I think I fell in love with her all over again, right then and there."

Charlotte nodded slowly, smiling like a cat. "You are in love with the lady doctor," she said. "And so full of happiness. Yet, so sad still. And this is why you are here today."

Kim paused, eyes distant, roaming over the terrain of Charlotte's well-appointed office. "I guess so," she said. "I mean, I'm not here about Kerry, I'm here about…" Her eyes searched the carpet for answers and she blew out an angry breath. "God, I'm not even sure why I'm here, really."

Charlotte said nothing, just watched her with a benign little smile.

"For the past few days, I've been treating a good friend," Kim said, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her arms. "She's having a major depressive episode -- not her first, simply her most recent. She's also a psychiatrist and … well, the two times that we've talked, some of the things she's said…I don't know… something just resonated within me, you know? I'm not depressed, I know that but…the feelings of futility and hopelessness she was expressing…it scared me because I've been thinking about that a lot lately."

"About what exactly?" Charlotte asked, leaning forward.

"About the futility of my job. About the fact that I only actually help about 5% of the people who come through the door." She chuckled without any joy. "If that."

Charlotte remained silent, watching her.

Kim threw up her hands. "I don't know, Charlotte, maybe I'm here to get you to tell me what I already know. That we can't help everybody. That we can't heal everybody."

Charlotte's face was impassive. "You feel you've lost faith in your purpose?"

Kim thought for a moment. "No, not yet. Maybe I've lost faith in myself. Or maybe I'm just questioning." She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm probably just wasting your time."

"You think highly of my time," Charlotte said. "I wonder if you think so highly of your own."

Kim stared blankly at her. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me how you spend your time these past weeks."

Kim started slowly, reciting the schedule of regular shifts and covered shifts, stolen lunches with Kerry, staff meetings, rounds, patients and more patients, cycles through the ER and the odd passionate and soothing night at home with her lover.

Charlotte nodded again and Kim started to remember why she had once accused this dear, wise woman of acting like Yoda.

"Of all your patients, about whom do you worry the most?" Charlotte asked, getting up to fetch the carafe of coffee.

Kim sighed heavily. God. There was such a list. "Well, I guess the top two today would be the young gay man who attempted suicide and the friend whom I'm treating."

"You are afraid the gay boy is going to leave the protection of your hospital and perhaps try again to harm himself." She poured them both coffee and went to return the pot.

"Yes, that's exactly it." Kim said. She picked up her cup and sipped the strong, hot coffee. "And I'm afraid of the same thing for my friend."

Charlotte sat down and picked up her cup. "And do you think that perhaps you will become like your friend?"

Kim shrugged. "I don't think so. But I've seen enough in the time I've practiced to know that you can never rule out some things."

Charlotte sipped her coffee and turned her gaze on Kim again. "And so, is this what you are protecting Kerry from?"

Kim nearly did a double take. "What?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

Charlotte drank her coffee in silence, watching Kim with amused eyes.

"Protecting Kerry from what?" Kim said. "I don't understand what you mean, Charlotte. Do you mean protecting her from my own crashing and burning? Because I don't think I am."

Charlotte nodded with a skeptical expression and put her cup down. "This has been very well begun," she said. "Because now I am assured that you have both the question and the answer within you. Now all that is needed is for you to find them."

Kim sighed and wondered what Charlotte was having in her coffee besides cream. "Charlotte, I'm afraid I don't understand anything you're saying."

Charlotte smiled warmly. "Kim, remember that a good psychiatrist is one who really hears what her patient is saying. But a great psychiatrist hears what they're not saying." She leaned closer, her eyes never leaving Kim's. "I am a great psychiatrist." She winked and Kim sat there, numb.

Charlotte was standing now, adjusting her tiny red jacket. "Fortunately, you are also a great psychiatrist, cherie, and you are now going to start listening to yourself. You are going to listen for what's not there."

Kim still sat on the sofa, her cup and saucer in hand. "You mean, listen to what I'm not saying?"

"Not saying, not doing, not hearing, whatever. Look for what's missing. For what you need to fill the hole."

Kim stared at her a moment longer, then numb fingers put the china on the table. She stood up and looked over at Charlotte.

"Tell Elise as you leave that you will be here again in four or five days, ca va?" She grabbed Kim's hand and patted it, then planted a kiss on either cheek. "You will be fine, my dear Kim. Think with your heart."

With that, Charlotte strode away, her expensive pumps making only a whisper of a noise on the deep carpet.

Kerry's eyes flicked back and forth between her watch and the board for what was probably the fourth time, and Luka couldn't stand it any longer.

"Kerry, is there something you're expecting to happen or what?"

The little redhead looked over at him, apparently shocked by the very sound of his voice. "I'm sorry -- did you say something Luka?"

Luka chuckled and shook his head. "You seem tense," the huge man said. "And you keep looking at your watch. Are you late for something?"

"Well, no," Kerry said. "I was -- well, I was just noticing that the board was pretty light today and that there aren't many people in chairs…"

Luka waited. "And..?"

"And I thought if you could cover for me for maybe an hour, I could --"

"Fine," Luka said, pleasantly. "I'll cover for you. Go."

Kerry blinked. "Well, don't you want to know why I need to --"

"It's none of my business, and anyway, I'm sure it's important."

"Why would you say that?"

Luka turned to face her. "When's the last time you left the hospital during a shift, Kerry?"

The chief of the ER stood there, lips pursed, thinking. "Um…I can't remember, actually."

"Ah," Luka said, sitting down at one of the computer terminals. "Goodbye, Kerry. Take your time."

Kerry stood there a moment longer calculating the odds that she could get the last word, then realized she'd been outplayed. "Thanks, Luka."

She scurried off to the lounge to hang up her lab coat.

Kerry pulled open the heavy glass doors to the fitness club and braced herself for the noise. It didn't come.

She made her way cautiously through the foyer, past the front desk where a young man with startling biceps nodded at her and smiled, and still there was no ear-splitting, bone-jarring, brain-pounding music screaming at her from every direction. Every other time she'd been here to pick up Kim after a shift, she's found herself assaulted by the unbelievably loud music with its frantic tempo that reminded her nothing so much as an arrhythmia. She passed the empty aerobics studio with its blonde wood floors and suddenly realized why it was so peaceful. She strode on, enjoying the clean lines of the place, the frosted and clear glass that substituted as walls.

She caught sight of her own reflection in one of the thousand mirrors that had been installed in the aerobics room and she lurched to a stop. Two women in form fitting work out clothes strolled by just then, glancing at her as they passed. Kerry stared at herself and at her crutch for a long moment. This is what Kim sees, she thought and an instant later she pushed herself on, eyes straight ahead, blocking out the mirrors around her.

She found Kim at the end of the long hall, in a huge airy room that was spotted with exercise equipment of all description. Kim sat on a fly-wheel style rowing machine, underneath a huge window. She was pulling and gliding in a perfect rhythm, her long legs bending and stretching out, her shoulders curling with the effort of pulling the handle. Her hair had been yanked into a ponytail and the few strands that had come loose were plastered to her cheek and neck. Kerry stood motionless at the door, pulling with her, straining as she did, watching the sweat pour off her. Kerry wondered what it might feel like to do that and she studied Kim's face, trying to maybe divine what she was thinking or feeling.

It wasn't what Kerry had expected and Kerry observed her for a moment longer because more than anything, Kim looked frustrated. Angry.

Kim glanced up just then and saw Kerry, standing at the window. Kim's expression changed from surprise to delight to concern, all before she could get up from the machine and grab her towel. She jogged across the room to meet her.

"What is it? Is everything all right?" Kim asked, grabbing Kerry's arm.

"Everything's fine, it's fine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Kerry said. "I just wanted to tell you something and so I -- I just came over."

Kim, her cheeks flaming from the exertions, wiped her face with her towel. "Oh, okay," she said, and there was relief in her tone. "God, I thought something was wrong."

"No, nothing's wrong, really," Kerry said. "I can't be long, though. Luka is covering for me."

Kim took Kerry's arm and gently steered her towards a nearby bench. "How did you know I'd be here?" Kim asked when they sat down.

Kerry studied Kim's face, the healthy flush and the incredible glow she had. "You always come to work out in the morning when you work a late shift," Kerry said.

Kim smiled a little. "You keeping tabs on me?"

Kerry shook her head. "No. Just paying attention. Oh, here," she said, handing Kim a small paper bag. "I got you one of those orange and banana shakes you like, from that juice bar down the block. You should have some."

Kim's expression dissolved into a stupid grin. "You didn't have to do that," she said, taking out the oversized Styrofoam cup and lifting the lid to smell the shake.

"I know. I wanted to."

She watched Kim gulp down the viscous orange liquid, still smiling at her and not really knowing why.

"So what was it that you wanted to tell me?" Kim said, between drinks.

Kerry blanked for a moment and then remembered what she had intended to say.

"Romano came to see me this morning," Kerry said.

Kim rolled her eyes. "God, I hate stories that begin with that sentence."

"Apparently, the woman you treated for post-partum psychosis is married to a big shot on city council. I think the husband might be feeling embarrassed by having his wife's illness come out in such a… public forum. He chewed Romano's ear off, so Romano came to chew my ear off…"

"That is such bullshit," Kim said and now the colour in her face was not from exercise. "You're not my supervisor. If he had something to say, he should have talked to me, or Carl."

Kerry nodded. "I told him as much. And for all I know, he's going to drop it. I mean, clearly the woman needed to be held, so really, he hasn't got much of a leg to stand on."

Kim sighed and looked at her shake. "That doesn't stop Romano, usually."

"Yeah, I know," Kerry said. She touched Kim's hand. "I just didn't want you to walk in at three o'clock this afternoon unprepared and have him blindside you with this."

Kim nodded. "Thanks, Ker, I appreciate it." She sat on the bench, head resting against the wall, legs splayed out in front of her.

Kerry opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it and shut it again. She gathered her courage and tried again. "That isn't the only reason I came over here today, Kim," she said finally.

Kim turned to meet her gaze. "It wasn't?"

"No," Kerry said. "The truth is that…well, I just wanted to see you for a few minutes."

Kim smiled. "I missed you when I woke up this morning."

"You were pretty tired," Kerry said, "I thought I'd let you sleep."

"I was pretty tired," Kim said sheepishly. "I'm sorry I missed you last night, too."

Kerry shrugged. "You needed to rest." She looked down at her hands. "I'm just kind of worried about you lately. You're working so hard and you're so tired…I just….I just worry, is all."

Kim reached over and touched Kerry's cheek. "You don't have to worry. I'm fine. I've got a few extra shifts a week, I know, but I'm okay." She held up her cup and smiled. "I even have a girlfriend who brings me healthy food."

Kim's smile was not convincing Kerry to join in and she continued to study the blonde woman's face with concern. "You're sure you're all right?"

Kim nodded and took a drink of her shake. "I'm fine, Kerry. Honest."

Kerry sighed. "Well, I'd better get back," she said, getting to her feet. "Listen, my shift is over at six, how about we meet for some dinner around seven?"

"Let me see how my shift goes," Kim said. "But it sounds good."

"Okay," Kerry said and she made no move to go. Kim peered at her. "Okay," she said again and she hoisted her purse back up onto her shoulder. "I'll see you later then."

"All right, bye," Kim said and she kissed Kerry's cheek.

Kerry turned to leave, her expression still heavy with worry. She made her way down the hall, then peeked back at Kim over her shoulder. The tall, slim woman was still on the bench, bent over, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor.

Kerry's mouth pulled into a tight line and she kept walking.

Kim's door was open and the psych nurse rapped gently on the glass. "Dr. Legaspi? I've brought Michael for his appointment."

Kim looked up from her paperwork. "Thanks, Chris," she said. "Hi, Michael, come on in and have a seat."

The nurse gave Michael a pat on the back, then departed. Michael took a few steps into the room, then hesitated,

"I just have to finish this page and I'll be right with you," Kim said, her head down, writing quickly. "Oh, and there's something for you over on the coffee table. I know what the food is like in this place."

Michael approached the low table with a curious expression. Near his usual seat on Kim's small sofa, he spotted a frosty can of Coke and Hershey candy bar. He grinned as he sat down in his spot and cracked open the soda. A moment later Kim was sinking into the antique rocking chair at the end of the sofa.

"Thanks a lot, Dr. Legaspi," he said, holding up the drink. "I really appreciate this."

"Are you in your new room yet?" Kim asked, settling herself in to listen and probe.

"Yes, this morning! Thank you so much for that, too! It's really much better than sharing with Stephen." He gave a low whistle. "Nice guy, but….wow. He's got problems."

"Well, I must confess, I had an ulterior motive in getting you that new room," Kim said.

Michael waited, one finger tapping absently on his Coke can.

"Your 72 hour hold is going to be up tomorrow at five," she said. "That's the length of time that the law allows me to keep you here without your consent. Unless of course I find that you still present a clear danger to yourself."

Michael looked slightly offended. "But I'm feeling better, Dr. Legaspi, you said yourself that I --"

Kim held up a hand. "You are making some real progress, Michael and I have a really good feeling about how you're going to come through all of this." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands together. "But it's early, still. Very early in fact. It's only been about 48 hours since you tried to kill yourself, Michael. Forty eight hours. That's not very long."

Michael considered her words, looking blindly at the painting that hung on the opposite wall. "No, I guess it's not." He bit his lip. "I guess I've just been feeling a little…relieved, I guess. I mean, I didn't actually die and I've got somebody to talk to who really understands and … and I even think I can feel the anti-depressants working a little bit." He met her warm blue gaze. "I guess I'm being a bit cocky."

Kim chuckled and sat back in her rocker. "Well, here's what I'm proposing. Tomorrow at five you are, by law, free to go. I don't think you should because I don't think you're quite ready to be out there dealing with the whole world and all those stressors quite yet. It's entirely your decision, but I want to give you my opinion, all right? I think you should check yourself in for a few more days -- just a few -- and that way, you'll have a sort of secluded place to rest, we'll be here to help with your meds and whatever you need and you and I can still talk every day."

Kim saw his sneaker tapping restlessly and knew that he was not quite over the bridge yet. She leaned forward again, caught his eye. "I just want to make sure you're strong enough before we send you back out there again."

He studied her eyes for a long moment, trying to glimpse hidden agendas or malice or pity. He could not.

"I'll think about it," he said firmly and Kim smiled and nodded. It was all she could have hoped for at this point.

"So I spoke with your parents," she said and she saw him instantly stiffen. The conversation had gone remarkably well, actually, considering that she needed to let them know that their son was in a locked psychiatric ward because he had tried to kill himself.

He watched her fearfully. "And? What did they say? How did they sound?"

"They sounded worried, mostly, which seems pretty natural. Finding out that your child has been taken to a hospital inspires pretty much the same reaction in all parents -- dread."

"Did you tell them -- I mean, do they know how I -- ?

Kim shook her head. "I didn't tell them anything that you didn't want me to -- everything you say to me is confidential. I'm only acting on your behalf."

He sank back a little on the sofa. "Okay, that's all right then." He thought for a moment. "So what did they say?"

"Well, they thanked me very much for calling them and they wanted to be reassured that you really were all right. They also asked things like, were you depressed and how had you attempted the suicide, and I told them that I couldn't discuss those things with them just yet."

Michael looked he stopped breathing for a moment. "Are they going to come?"

Kim nodded and a great sigh gushed out of him. She waited.

He ran a hand over his very short hair and stared at the ceiling. "They're coming," he said. "Oh man."

"What are you feeling, Michael?"

He shrugged, never moved his eyes from the ceiling tiles. "Relief, which is weird. Fear. Confusion."

Kim smiled. "That all sounds reassuringly normal," she said and Michael took his eyes off the ceiling and looked at her and laughed.

"You said fear. What are you afraid of?" Kim asked.

He sank back into the sofa cushions. "Nearly everything. I'm afraid that my parents are going to hate me and never want to speak to me again. I'm afraid I'll never get to see my little brother and sisters again." He stared out at the room, eyes misty and distant. "I'm afraid I'm going to be a laughingstock at school. That my friends will think I'm a freak. I'm afraid that all those preachers and ministers are right and that I'm not normal and that I'm going to hell." He looked over at her suddenly. "Do you believe in hell, Dr. Legaspi?"

Kim had to bite back her first response which was that yes, she knew there was a hell, she worked in it, every day. "If there really is a hell, Michael, I really can't imagine how someone would be sent there for loving another person."

Michael looked at her for a long time, a curious expression in his eyes.

"What?" Kim said, finally.

"You never bull shit, do you?"

Kim chuckled. "I try not to."

"I wasn't sure, at first, about you," he said. "You know, you were being nice to me and everything but I didn't know if you were….you know, real."

Kim raised an eyebrow at him. "But now you think I am?"

He chuckled. "I know you are."

"And why is that?"

"Because you try really hard to make me feel like I'm not beneath you…which, given my present circumstances," he waved an arm at her office and the hospital, "would be very easy to do. Like even just taking the time to tell me that you were gay, too. That was probably such a little thing to you, but it really made me trust you and respect you." He squeezed his Coke can a little and made the aluminum creak. "You probably sat someplace one day, just like this, totally freaked out about how you were going to tell your parents that you were gay, didn't you?"

A soft smile crept to her lips. "As a matter of fact, I did."

"And how did it go?"

She shrugged. "I lived."

He nodded slowly, agreeing with something inside himself. "See, that's what I mean. You do understand."

Kim laced her hands together on her lap. "All right. So, let's talk about how we're going to handle this meeting with your folks, okay?"

Michael nodded and they began.

"Thirty seven year old female, LOC once at the scene and once in the rig, heart rate 248 --"

Kerry grabbed the portable monitor as she struggled to keep up with the gurney. "Two forty eight? Jesus," she said.

Abby craned to see the monitor as well. "Whoa, that's really fast."

Doris nodded. "I think it's a record for our rig. B.P. 85 over 40. Medic Alert bracelet listing supraventricular tachycardia."

They pulled a tight right and wheeled her into the empty trauma room. "What's with the blood on her forehead?" Kerry asked.

"Hit her head on a pencil sharpener when she fainted," Doris said.

"A pencil sharpener?" Kerry repeated. "Easy now, one, two, three."

"Yes, a pencil sharpener. She's a teacher. About fifth grade I think. Cute kids." Doris loaded the paramedic equipment back onto the gurney and headed for the door.

"What's her name?" Kerry called after her.

"Brigid. Brigid Sullivan."

"Abby, help me get the cardiac monitor on her. Then I want you to start a line and get her on some oxygen," Kerry said, lifting the head of the gurney. "Then call Medic Alert and see what medications she's on." Kerry rubbed her knuckles hard on Brigid's sternum. "Ms. Sullivan? Ms. Sullivan, wake up now, we need you to talk to us."

The woman was on the small side, not much taller than Kerry, with short dark hair and skin that was probably usually fair but today just looked pale and sickly. Kerry persisted and a moment later, the woman's eyelids flickered and opened, immediately wincing at the pain Kerry was inflicting. She squinted at the bright overhead light, then flinched as Abby inserted an IV needle. Finally, her eyes came to rest on Kerry, who was reattaching leads to her bare chest and torso. "Oh, shit, I fainted again, didn't I?"

Kerry smiled slightly. "Yes, you did, Ms. Sullivan. I'm Dr. Weaver and your heart is beating very quickly and your blood pressure is low. You fainted and the paramedics brought you here to the hospital."

The woman sighed, then glanced down at her bare breasts and belly, covered in conductive jelly and cardiac leads.

Abby caught her expression. "I'll get you a gown in just one second, okay? I just need to get you hooked up to the blood pressure monitor."

"Oh, it's okay, " Brigid said. "I know the drill. I have almost no modesty left."

"Ms. Sullivan, your bracelet says that you have SVT. Do you happen to know what kind?"

The dark haired woman nodded, putting a hand over her heart and trying to catch her breath. "Wolff-Parkinson-White," she said.

"Are you taking any medications for it?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "My cardiologist has tried a whole bunch of them but they don't help and they just make me really sick." She sighed. "Dammit, I probably scared the shit out of the kids."

"The kids?"

"My class. I'm a teacher at St. Michael's. I was in the middle of a math lesson and my heart started doing this, so I left the room to try those little tricks that can help stop it, you know?"

"Valsalva maneuvers?" Kerry offered, watching the read out on the ECG.

"Yeah, holding your breath and bearing down and everything. I tried it three or four times and it didn't work. So I went back to the class to call somebody from the office." She shook her head in disgust. "I must've fainted there."

Kerry ripped off the paper from the ECG. "You do realize that there is surgery for this condition. It's call an ablation and it's really very --"

"I know," she said. "My cardiologist and my HMO are currently engaged in a war over it. For some obscure reason that I can't yet understand, they won't pay for it and I'm on a really long waiting list as a result."

Kerry rolled her eyes. "All right. Well, your ECG isn't showing any signs of sliding into atrial fibrillation, so let's try stopping the arrhythmia with some drugs first."

Brigid sank back into the pillows on the gurney. "Oh, good. I hate it when we have to do the paddles."

Abby reappeared with a gown and spent a moment snapping all the blinds shut, then came to the gurney and helped Brigid to sit up. "Here, we'll just get you out those clothes and into this…"

"Abby, we're going to need 6 milligrams of adnosine followed by a 12 milligram bolus. And would you get some verapamil on stand by, just in case."

Abby nodded.

"You wouldn't happen to see my glasses anywhere around, would you?" Brigid asked. "I really can't see much without them."

Kerry peered under the gurney and saw a plastic bag. She grabbed it and rooted around, finding a shoe, a wallet, a coat and a pair of eyeglasses. She handed them to Brigid, who put them on and gave both Abby and Kerry a quick once over. She slid her arm through the hole in the gown and winced. "You know, it's strange," she said, " my head doesn't usually hurt when I have these attacks."

Abby stifled a smile and helped her to step out of her jeans.

"You have a cut on your forehead," Kerry said. "When you fainted you hit your head, I think."

Brigid touched her forehead gingerly. "Goddam pencil sharpener, I bet."

Kerry smiled. "Is there someone you would like for us to call?"

"You should probably call my partner," Brigid said.

"Do you have his number?"

The slightest smile. "Her number, actually. It's in my wallet -- the emergency contact number."

Kerry dug out the wallet again, opened it and found the number in question.

"Okay, I'll go do that now," she said.

"Dr. Weaver?"

"Yes?"

"Could you try to stress how okay I am?" Brigid said. "Because otherwise she'll nearly kill herself getting here and… well, I'm already taking up one of your trauma rooms."

Kerry nodded and went to find a phone.

Twenty minutes later, Brigid was laying flat on the gurney, craning her neck to see the number on the heart monitor, knowing it was still very high.

"It hasn't gone down yet," she said to Kerry who was studying the ECG readout.

"No, the drugs didn't do anything," she said. "So, we've got one more option before we try electroconversion." Kerry raised the head of the gurney, pulled a tall stool to the side of the bed and perched on it. "Abby, could you keep an eye on her blood pressure. I'm going to try massaging the carotid artery."

Kerry placed her hands carefully on Brigid's neck, feeling for the precise spot to press. She worked the tiny patch of neck with strong fingers. "B.P.?"

"Ninety over fifty."

She kneaded Brigid's neck more, feeling the pounding pulse of her heart beneath her fingertips. "Anything?"

Abby shook her head. "B.P. 90 over 50, heart rate 251."

"Two fifty one?" Brigid asked, flicking her eyes to see Abby. "My record is 262."

"No way," Abby said, sounding somewhere between shocked and impressed.

Brigid nodded ever so slightly so as not to disturb Kerry's massage. "But I had to have the paddles that time so I'm not that excited about breaking it."

Kerry stopped just then and sat back. "It doesn't look like it's working, Brigid. I'm really sorry but I think I'm going to have to use the --"

As Kerry watched, Brigid's mouth slowly dropped open and her eyes rolled back in her head. The monitor trilled and beeped.

Kerry looked at the monitor, started. "Oh, shit," she said. "She's in a-fib."

Immediately, Abby lowered the bed and grabbed the crash paddles.

"Charge to 200, " Kerry said and Abby pulled Brigid's gown down and out of Kerry's way.

"Clear!"

Her body jumped a little and the shrill beeping continued at its frantic pace.

"Again at two?"

"Two fifty," Kerry said. She waited for the signal, then she fired the paddles against the pale skin of Brigid's chest again.

A steady, calm beep from the monitor.

"Sinus rhythm," Abby said with a smile.

Kerry handed her back the paddles and went to the ECG and yanked off a strip of readout to study it. "All right," she said. "At least we've stopped the arrhythmia." She tossed the strip in the garbage as she headed out of the room. "Can you monitor her, Abby, and call me when she comes around. I've got to check on a couple of labs."

Abby adjusted the IV flow. "Sure thing, Dr. Weaver."

"Frank, I'm still waiting for the post films on the separated shoulder in curtain two," Kerry said, nosing around every flat surface of the admit desk.

"Well, don't look at me," Frank said, "I didn't take them."

Kerry tried to count to ten, got to three, then said, "Well, then could you please get on the phone to radiology and tell them that I really need those films and if I don't have them in the next fifteen minutes, I'm going to come down there and throttle the first person I see."

Frank had the phone in hand and was dialing. "Would you like me to use those exact words?"

"Actually, yes," she said and she logged onto the computer to check the database for drugs used in arresting arrhythmias. She glanced up when the search started and spotted a blonde mane of hair and a deep azure blouse, some distance down the hall. Kim was talking to Carter outside an exam room and, clutching her ever-present clipboard and from the look on Carter's face, dispensing some great psychiatric wisdom.

Kerry felt herself smile and wondered if that was part of how you knew when you were really in love -- that the sight of this single person doing something so utterly ordinary as talking to a colleague, could fill you with such joy and desire and gratitude that you doubted your heart could keep beating.

Kim gave Carter a little nod, then turned and started towards the admit desk. Kerry's smile grew until a beep alerted her that her search was finished. It took a few seconds to remember what the hell she'd been looking for in the first place.

"Are you Dr. Legaspi?" A tall man in his mid-thirties had intercepted Kim a few yards from the desk. He wore an extremely expensive suit and was impeccably groomed. Kerry paused, hands on the keyboard and watched.

Kim stopped, nodded somewhat cautiously. "Yes, I'm Dr. Legaspi. Can I help you?"

"Your office said you were down here," the man said, "and I just really wanted to put a face to the name."

Kim's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know who you are," she said.

"No, I didn't think you would," the man said and Kerry heard the slight change in tone. "I'm Mark Calvecchio. You recognize that name? You should because you locked my poor wife in your goddam psych ward yesterday!"

Kim froze for the shortest second, and then Kerry saw the veneer of calm descend again over her features.

"Mr. Calvecchio, I'm sure this has been very upsetting for you. Why don't we --"

"You bet your overpaid ass that it's been upsetting for me, lady! I come home to find that my wife has gone shopping with my son and through some incredible fuck up on your part, ends up drugged out of her mind and restrained in the fucking county psych ward!"

In chairs, every set of eyes was turned to take in the spectacle and Kerry realized that nearly every set of scrubs for twenty yards had paused to stare as well.

Kim's smile remained open and unthreatening. "Mr. Calvecchio, I don't want to discuss your wife's condition here in the hall. Please come and sit --"

"My wife's condition," he said. "Yes, please tell me about my wife's condition, since you seen to know so much about her, having met her for what, ten fucking minutes?" His face was red and although Kerry couldn't see his eyes from where she sat, she had no doubt that they were wild with anger. "How dare you treat my wife like she was some piece of refuse that had crawled in here out of the gutter!"

"I understand that you're concerned about your wife's treatment. Why don't we find a place to talk?"

"Concerned? You're goddam right I'm concerned, when the mother of a young baby can walk into this hospital and be misdiagnosed so severely! I'm concerned all right!"

"It would be better if we discussed this privately," Kim said, and she started to turn in hopes of shepherding him away from this audience.

"No, we'll discuss this now!" he said and he grabbed her arm. Kim wrenched it out of his grasp and Kerry saw the muscle along her jaw tighten.

Kerry was off the stool and on her feet, grabbing for her crutch, when she felt a restraining hand on her arm. She turned and there was Luka, watching over her shoulder like some sort of gentle giant.

"Frank," Luka said. "Call security right now, because I'm going to escort Mr. Calvecchio out."

"I think you need to calm down, Mr. Calvecchio," Kim was saying.

Calvecchio laughed. "Or what? You'll shoot me full of drugs like you did to my poor wife! Jesus! What is the matter with you people? My wife is not mentally ill!"

"Neither are seventy per cent of the women who develop this condition," Kim said.

He shook his finger in Kim's face. "I'm going to start by suing you personally. And then I'm going to get your medical license. By the time I'm done with you, you ignorant bitch, you'll be lucky to get a job putting Band-Aids on skinned knees at a playground…"

His eyes moved from Kim's face when Luka stepped up behind her.

"Sir," Luka said, quietly. "It's time for you to leave."

"Who the fuck are you?" Calvecchio said.

"I am Dr. Kovac. I treated your wife here in the ER. Dr. Legaspi is my colleague." Luka's voice was low and even. "Furthermore, she is a lady and you have insulted and threatened her. So, I really think it would be best if you leave now."

Calvecchio measured Luka's height against his own, quickly checked out his frame, then planted himself. "Well, I don't really care what you think," he said. "I'm here about my wife and I'm not leaving until I get the answers I want."

Luka took a breath and leaned closer to Calvecchio. "Perhaps I haven't been clear. I'm giving you the chance to leave unassisted."

"Or what? Are you going to have security throw me out? That'll look great in the lawsuit."

Luka nodded towards the hall where two large men in uniforms were approaching. "They've already been called, but I'm beginning to hope that they give me the opportunity to throw you out onto the street myself."

Calvecchio hesitated.

"And you know, even if it might look good in the lawsuit, Mr. Calvecchio, I can guarantee that it won't look good in the papers when I'm done telling the story."

The two men stared each other down for a long moment. The security guards approached Kim and one said, "Dr. Legaspi, is there a problem we can help you with?"

Kim studied Calvecchio's face. "Uh, actually, Clarence, I think we're fine. Mr. Calvecchio is just leaving."

Calvecchio looked from Kim to Luka and then back again. He straightened his jacket and tie and gave her a parting glare. "My lawyers are going to feast on your carcass," he said and he turned and strode away, back out the ambulance bay doors.

Kim nodded to the security guards who wandered away. Conversation in chairs and the curtain areas slowly started up again.

Luka turned to Kim, laying a hand on her arm. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I'm fine, Luka. But thank you."

Kerry arrived, her face flushed with fury. She grabbed Kim's arm. "Are you all right?"

Kim nodded. "I'm fine, Kerry. It's fine. He was just… a little out of control." She rolled her eyes. "And pretty seriously in denial."

Kerry fixed her sights on Luka. "You didn't have to step in like that, Luka. I could've handled it. You don't have to protect me from guys like that."

Luka looked down at her and a slight smile rose to his lips. "What makes you think that I was protecting you from him?" He was gone before Kerry could work it out.

Kerry peered at Kim's face, saw the full impact of the last few weeks residing there.

"Really, are you all right?" she asked, voice soft.

Kim nodded. "I'm fine."

"Listen, I'm off at six and then I've got some paperwork to do," Kerry said. "Do you think you could slip away for a late supper? Maybe around seven, seven thirty?"

"Yeah, I think I could do that," Kim said.

"All right. Well, I'll talk to you closer to that time, okay?"

Kim nodded.

"Dr. Legaspi?" a voice said.

Kim turned to see Carter helping to wheel a gurney down the hall. There was a man on it, wearing nothing but black pants. He was in four point restraint and there was blood all around his mouth. "I am Nosferatu!" he shouted, directing his comments to Doris, the paramedic, who was singularly unimpressed. "I am the undead! I will drink your blood."

Kim looked at Carter.

"This guy was attacking people in the parking lot of a department store. Apparently he bit quite a few of them." Carter looked sheepish. "I haven't examined him yet, but I have a feeling I'm going to need a psych consult."

Kim nodded. "I'll be right there," she said.

"Be afraid!" the vampire was yelling at Doris. "Be afraid! For tonight there is a full moon!"

Doris made a face. "That's werewolves, you moron!"

Kerry was noting Brigid's most recent heart rate and blood pressure on her chart when she saw a tall figure fly past the trauma room doors, then double back to peer in. The woman pushed through the doors, hardly slowing from the jog.

"Are you okay? Do you feel okay?" the woman asked. She wore jeans and a black turtleneck with a v-neck sweater and she made a beeline for the gurney where Brigid lay propped up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's all right," Brigid said, opening her arms to embrace her.

The woman buried her face in Brigid's neck for a moment, then kissed her quickly on the lips and the forehead.

"You're bleeding," she said with hurt in her eyes.

Brigid nodded. "Goddam pencil sharpener."

The woman nodded knowingly, then captured Brigid's hand and searched around for the heart monitor. "Did they get it down okay?"

Brigid nodded.

"How high?"

"Two forty eight."

"Jesus," the woman said and she ran a hand through her shoulder length hair. "That's a high one." She looked over at Kerry who was observing the interaction, pen in midair above her chart. "Did you have to shock her?"

Kerry had to give herself a little shake. "Uh, yes, we did."

The woman gave Brigid a sympathetic look. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry, honey," she said and she stroked Brigid's head, smoothing back her hair.

"'S'okay," Brigid said. "I didn't mind so much this time." She turned her head to look at Kerry. "Dr. Weaver, this is my partner, Grace Stewart," she said and Grace extended her hand to Kerry across the gurney. "She's been treating me this afternoon."

"Is she all right?" Grace asked, serious hazel eyes locked on Kerry's face.

"Uh, for now, yes. Her heart's beating like it should," Kerry said. "There was a little complication --"

Grace gave Brigid a reproachful look. "I was getting to it," Brigid said.

"She developed atrial fibrillation and we had to use electroconversion to restore sinus rhythm," Kerry said.

Grace raised an eyebrow and Kerry thought Brigid might have coloured slightly. "The good news is that Dr. Weaver says that it responded really well to the paddles," Brigid said hopefully.

Grace sighed. "You are such a train wreck, you know that?" she said, affection evident in her eyes.

"That I am," Brigid said.

"Hey, did this happen at school?"

Brigid nodded.

"Oh, man you must've scared the shit out of the kids."

"I know. Sister Geronimo will no doubt have things to say to me when I go back."

"Sister Geronimo?" Kerry asked, abruptly, then silently chastised herself for having eavesdropped so obviously.

"Well, it's really Sister Saint Jerome," Brigid said, "but some of us call her Sister Geronimo." She paused. "Although never to her face." She grinned wearily.

Grace leaned down and kissed the dark haired woman on the temple. "It'll all be worth it in a few days when you get thirty two really sweet construction paper get well cards."

Brigid smiled wearily. "Yes, there is that." She squeezed Grace's hand. "Listen, Dr. Weaver says that she wants to admit me for observation tonight. Could you go home and get some stuff for me?"

Grace's eyes flicked over to Kerry, who immediately tried to pretend she hadn't been watching the couple. "Keep her overnight? They don't usually keep her overnight."

Kerry tapped her pen on the chart. "She doesn't usually go into a-fib. It's worth watching."

"Oh," Grace said. "Okay. I'll go get your pajamas and toothbrush and stuff." She sighed. "This really sucks. I wish we could just get that operation for you."

"I know," Brigid said, patting Grace's hand. "But I'm okay. Don't worry. Just go get my things and take care of the dogs, okay?"

Another sigh. "Okay." The tall woman bent and gave Brigid a soft kiss. "I love you," she said.

Brigid smiled. "Love you, too. Don't drive like a maniac."

Grace grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, Dr. Weaver. For everything."

Kerry nodded. "My pleasure." She watched the woman head out through the trauma room doors, then peeked at Brigid's expression.

Abby had set up a sterile cloth across most of Brigid's forehead, Kerry had numbed the area around the pencil sharpener gash and was meticulously stitching it shut. Brigid lay on the gurney, propped into a sitting position, trying to stay still, the sound of her slow, steady heartbeat filling the trauma room.

"Could I ask you something?" Kerry said.

"Sure."

"How long have you and your partner been together?"

"Almost eight years," Brigid said, a little smile creeping up. "Next month is our anniversary, actually."

"That's great," Kerry said. "A lot of couples have a hard time staying together even a year or two."

"Yeah, especially gay couples," Brigid said. "I think that gay couples have a lot more stresses to handle than straight couples. Plus there's the fact that most of us grew up without any good role models to help us learn how to be in a relationship, gay or otherwise."

Kerry nodded, her gloved hands automatically stitching, knotting, cutting.

"May I ask what Grace does for a living?"

"She's a writer. She writes mysteries." Brigid looked thoughtful for a moment. "They're really quite good, actually. She's very talented."

"How did you two meet?"

Brigid chuckled. "We're kind of a lesbian stereotype. We met at a softball game." Brigid turned a little to look at Kerry. "There's this stereotype -- largely true in my experience -- that all lesbians play softball. As it happens, we both did and we met that way."

Kerry processed then nodded and said, "Oh, I see, that's one of those --" She stopped abruptly.

Brigid frowned. "One of those what?"

Kerry coloured a little and repositioned the sterile cloth. "I, uh -- I sometimes don't catch on to those sorts of lesbian in-jokes."

Brigid studied Kerry carefully. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but…are you gay?"

Kerry went rigid but kept on stitching. She willed her shoulders to relax. "Yes, actually, I am."

Brigid pulled up the corner of the cloth to look Kerry in the face. "That's great," she said with a smile. "It's always so nice to meet other gay people."

Kerry let out a breath while Brigid repositioned the sterile drape. "Yeah, it can feel kind of …isolating," Kerry said, retrieving the needle and silk.

"Yeah, that was the hardest part for me, I think, before I started meeting other lesbians and making friends in the community."

Kerry glanced down at Brigid, then stared at her shrinking gash. "Did you find that there was …any sort of pressure to conform?"

"Conform to what?"

"To the stereotype. To the community."

Brigid waved a hand. "Oh, God, no. You just sort of find people who have similar interests to your own. Gracie has all these golfing pals who are lesbians and I have a bunch of friends who are starting a wine and book club. Everybody is just who they are." Brigid sat quietly while Kerry digested this.

"I couldn't help but notice, " Kerry said, "you mentioned that you teach in a Catholic school."

Brigid chuckled. "Yeah. Makes my life sound pretty complicated, doesn't it?"

Kerry raised an eyebrow as she sewed. "Yeah, a little."

"It's not really. I love to teach and that school was having a really hard time keeping teachers. It's inner city, the pay's not great and a few years ago, one of the teenagers knifed a teacher, so there's not exactly a line up of teachers dying to get in."

"So you work there because…"

"Because I'm good with the bad characters. Because they need me. And because even though the Catholic Church is a fatally flawed institution that I have little to no respect for, I think it's crucial to help children develop spiritually." She scratched her nose carefully. "In the public system, you can't talk about God. At least at St. Mike's I can do that."

Kerry tied off another stitch and cut it and found herself wishing that she'd had this woman as her fifth grade teacher.

"But what if they found out you were gay?" Kerry asked. "Wouldn't they fire you?"

"Probably, but I think a lot of people there must already know. I don't talk about Gracie much but people see us together sometimes and we're not actively hiding anything." She turned to look at Kerry. "I'm at the point in my life where I'm not going to let a few small minded individuals tell me how to live my life."

Kerry stared at her, her mind reeling. "But what if you lost your job?"

Brigid shrugged. "Then I'd find another one somewhere else. There are always lots of kids who need a good teacher." She smiled. "And someday, maybe I'll be able to walk into a classroom anywhere and the fact that I'm gay won't even cross anybody's mind."

Kerry nodded numbly. "I hope so," she said.

Kim stopped in the door to the dining room, her coat still on, and took in the neatly stacked piles of paperwork, the glass of wine and Kerry's odd smile.

"I'm so sorry," Kim said. "I really wanted to meet you for dinner."

Kerry took her glasses off and put them down on the table. "It's all right, Kim, I understand." She slipped her arm through the cuff on her crutch and got up.

"It was …well, crazy for lack of a better word and the only other attending who was scheduled called in sick."

Kerry made her way around the table, listening and nodding. Kim leaned down and kissed her as she passed by. "I felt terrible canceling on you, Ker. I really am sorry."

Kerry stopped, half way across the kitchen and fixed Kim with a stare. "It's all right, Kim. Really." She got a wine glass and a soup bowl down out of the cupboard and placed them both on the counter. "Take your coat off and have a seat. I made some of that lentil soup you like."

Kim stood there, exhaustion hammering at every nerve in her body and smiled. Of course she'd made her soup. She got rid of her coat, shoes and briefcase and when she came back there was a glass of a rich red wine and a bowl of steaming soup on the island. She pulled up a stool and breathed in the garlic and spice of the hot soup.

She heard Kerry making her way up the stairs, moving slowly and deliberately as always and then she heard the soft clanking of the house's ancient plumbing and she smiled. Kerry was pouring her a bath.

Kim ate the soup slowly, savoring every spoonful and sipped at her wine, letting it all nibble away at the knot of stress inside her.

A few minutes later, the water stopped running upstairs and Kerry was back in the kitchen, searching for her own wineglass.

"You didn't have to do all this," Kim said and she knew how lame it sounded even before it was out of her mouth. Kerry mercifully ignored the comment and doubled back to the dining room to fetch her wine. When she returned, she topped up her own glass, then lifted herself onto a stool and looked at Kim.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" Kerry asked.

Kim poked at her soup with her spoon. "About what?"

Kerry shrugged. "Your day, Carl, your pathetic vampire, Mr. Calvecchio…anything."

Kim sighed wearily and put the spoon down, too tired to be hungry anymore. "Yeah, it was quite a day."

"How's Nancy?"

Kim picked up her wineglass. "Just sick enough that she should be hospitalized and just well enough that she won't let me."

Kerry pursed her lips and nodded. "I'm sorry about that, Kim. I know it must be weighing on you terribly."

Kim nodded without much conviction.

"And that scene with that ass Calvecchio couldn't have helped much," Kerry said. "I'm almost certain that Romano had something to do with him showing up in the ER."

Kim rolled her eyes. "I was half expecting it after what Carl said, so --"

Kerry's glass stopped half-way to her mouth. "After Carl said what? What did Carl say?"

Kim sensed the blip on her radar but couldn't identify the disturbance. "The other day when he warned me about Romano, that he was --" Her words faded as the expression on Kerry's face intensified.

"You didn't tell me that Carl had warned you about anything," Kerry said and her voice was quiet and wounded. "When did he talk to you about this?"

Kim's eyes never left Kerry's face. "A couple days ago, I think. It wasn't a big deal, Kerry, it was just --"

"Well, if it wasn't a big deal, why didn't you tell me about it?"

Kim's shoulders sagged and she chuckled but there was no mirth in it. "Because it wasn't a big deal." Kim leaned forward and peered at Kerry. "Kerry, what is this really about?"

Kerry sat ramrod straight and took a quick sip of her wine. "Well, it's about the fact that you heard something about that diseased little man being out to get you and you didn't bother to even tell me about it."

"But it wasn't important," Kim said, "I didn't really think it mattered that much."

Kerry's gaze pinned her to her chair with its intensity. "It concerned you, Kim. That means it matters to me. Very much."

Kim sighed and studied Kerry's face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had no idea that this would upset you. I never meant to do that."

Kerry looked intently at her wineglass and said nothing.

Kim put both elbows on the counter and rested her head in her hands. Short of developing an advanced case of rectal cancer before midnight, this day just couldn't get much worse.

"Kim, I want to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me," Kerry said.

Kim looked up. "Of course," she said.

Kerry tried to make herself relax before she spoke. "Have I said anything or done anything lately to upset you? Anything at all?"

Kim felt her heart drop into her half-empty stomach and she suddenly wanted to cry. She got off her stool and crossed the two steps to where Kerry sat, and took her in her arms without a word. She felt Kerry's arms slip hesitantly around her.

Kim kissed the top of her head and then rested her cheek on her soft red hair. "Of course not. That's ridiculous."

Kerry held on tightly to the tall woman, her heart tripping over itself with fear and desire. "I just thought that -- that maybe I was staying here too much or that maybe you just needed some time alone to --"

Kim straightened up and held her at arm's length. "How can you say that?" she asked and the tears were close now. "How can you even think that?"

Kerry looked at her lap. "You've just seemed so…distant lately and you're so tired all the time…I just thought maybe you needed some time away from me."

Kim caressed Kerry's cheek, then bent and kissed her. She straightened again. "The biggest problem I've had for the past month is that I haven't had enough time with you, Kerry."

Kerry measured the look in Kim's eyes and Kim could see that she was only partly convinced. Kim took Kerry's hand and kissed her fingers. "I love you, Ker. And even though I haven't done a great job of showing it lately, I do want you right here with me."

Kerry's eyes were riveted to Kim's face, searching, reading, questioning. Kim felt her gaze like a blow.

"Hey," Kim said, leaning close to Kerry, her lips by the smaller woman's ear. "Want to come have a bath with me?"

Kerry's smile was slow but genuine. "Yeah," she said. "I do."

Kim held her hand while she slipped off the stool and found her crutch. They headed slowly towards the stairs, hand in hand.

Kim slipped out of the exam room and had to physically restrain herself from banging her head on the wall. Of all the neuroses and perverted thought patterns she had to deal with, there was none as sad or as frustrating as the "he-beats-me-but-he-loves-me" song and dance. Almost an hour of it from this most recent battered woman, Amy Walker, who had sat there on the bed, her three children sitting in the corner as still as proverbial church mice, and told Kim that her husband hadn't hurt her, the bathroom door had.

Which was a novel way to explain three broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, two black eyes and welts on your back. But hey, denial was a powerful thing.

Kim had tried her usual approaches. There are places where you can be safe. One of these times, he's going to go too far. Lots of women leave these situations and with a little counseling and support, build wonderful new lives. None of it had gotten past the fragile barrier that she kept in place, all the while peering at her through the one eye which was not completely swollen shut. Apparently the Walkers had one hell of a nasty bathroom door.

She'd even gone for the "think of your children" pitch. Two little girls and a boy, wearing not quite enough clothes for the season and looking terrified, although at home somehow in an ER exam room.

But her words fell on deaf ears. With a sad smile at Mrs. Walker and her children, Kim had left to chat with Mr. Walker, presumably the owner of the bathroom door, at Mark Greene's request. She knew where Mark wanted to go with it and also knew that it was futile, but she sat down with the head of the Walker household for almost a half an hour. He was a two-dimensional cardboard cut-out perfect husband and father, expressing nothing but concern and love for the woman who appeared to serve as his personal punching bag. But, she'd tried.

Mark was at the admit desk and Kim slipped in beside him.

"How'd it go?" Mark asked.

"Pretty much what you'd expect," Kim sighed. "Mom denies Dad hits her, kids toe the party line and Dad is oh, so concerned. Nobody's talking."

"Did you tell her about the shelters --"

"--and the support groups and the outpatient counseling we do here," Kim said. "I even let her know that if she so much as nodded her consent, I could have her admitted to psych on a hold where she'd be safe."

"No deal, huh?"

"Didn't want to even hear about it."

Mark threw his pen down onto the desk. "Goddammit, there's got to be some way to get her out of there."

"As physician of record, you can call the police and child services," Kim said.

"Yeah and they'll give the police the same story they gave you and that'll be the end of that." Mark rubbed his forehead. "Isn't there something you can cook up to put a hold on that guy?"

Kim frowned. "Mark, I can't just manufacture psychiatric symptoms so that we can lock this guy up."

"I'm not asking you to make anything up. I just think there must be something you can nail him on."

"Okay, first, I don't nail people. I'm not the police," Kim said, "and second, although he's a really cruel son of a bitch who beats his wife, he's alert and oriented to time and place, he passed a mental status exam and he doesn't appear to be posing a threat to himself or others."

"But you and I both know he is a threat."

"Unfortunately, Mark, I can't diagnose on what I think might be true."

Mark shook his head in disgust. "So there's nothing you can do," he said and the tone of his voice made Kim's back straighten ever so slightly.

"Mark, I would really love to be able to keep this guy from beating his wife to a bloody pulp tonight, but unfortunately the DSM doesn't recognize 'testosterone-filled asshole' as a psychiatric disorder!"

She pushed the chart at him and he took it and strode away, muttering under his breath.

Kim took a long slow breath and leaned against the admit desk to pull herself together. A movement out of the corner of her eye and there was Randi. "Don't worry about it, Dr. Legaspi. He's been premenstrual ever since they took that thing out of his head." She hurried off to grab a phone.

Kim sighed and resisted the urge to look at her watch and count the hours until the end of her shift.

Kerry leaned down to pick up a dropped blood work order form and saw the glossy magazines, some as thick as catalogues, stuffed into a small shelf below the phones at the admit desk. She grabbed the one on top and looked at the cover, then quickly flipped through it, skimming it for pictures of women wearing up to the minute clothes, make up and hairstyles.

"Randi," she said to the clerk who was sorting files nearby," are these magazines yours?"

Randi stopped chewing her gum and stared at Kerry. "If it's okay that I keep them here at the desk for times when it's not busy, then yes, they're mine." She chewed her gum a few times, then stopped again. "And if that's not okay, then I'm pretty sure they're Malucci's."

Kerry suppressed a chuckle. "You're not in trouble. I just wondered if these belonged to you."

Randi moved closer, peered over Kerry's shoulder at the layout on the page and said, "Oh, see, that jacket there, it would look so perfect with your hair." She chewed and snapped. "Well, if we fixed your hair up, just a little."

Kerry peered over her shoulder at her. "You think I need to fix my hair up?"

Randi tapped her foot and crossed her arms. "The colour works for you, totally. It just needs a little …"

Kerry waited, eyes wide. "A little what?"

"I'm thinking a body perm to start, but something soft you know, not the poodle look, a little layering, here and here." She waved her hands around parts of Kerry's head. "And that would work. I can give you the name of a great hairstylist if you want it."

Kerry stood motionless. "You're pretty good at this, aren't you?"

Randi shrugged. "It's an art. I'm an artist."

"What about clothes and things?" Kerry asked. "I mean, you can tell what clothes would suit a person, right?"

Randi's eyes narrowed. "Dr. Weaver, are you thinking of doing a makeover?"

Kerry felt the colour rising up the back of her neck. "Well, no, not really, I was just thinking that maybe--"

"You don't want that one," Randi said, pulling the magazine out of Kerry's hands. "You want this one." She handed Kerry another glossy catalogue. "Look at the spread on sweaters. Now, personally, I wouldn't be caught dead in them, but then again that's not my style."

"Could you tell what a good style for me would be?" Kerry asked, paging through the magazine.

Randi planted a hand on her hip. "Dr. Weaver, trust me. You know stethoscopes and those little tubes you stick down people's throats, and I know fashion." She grabbed the magazine from Kerry's hands. "Now, your problem is that you dress like you're trying to make yourself invisible. Well, that and librarian-chic is way over, you know what I'm saying? First thing, we weed all the beige out of your closet and we work with your hair. Bright colours with depth will complement your hair and bring out your eyes. Then, with the right blouse colours you can get some suits and pants in neutrals -- but not beige -- that will pull everything together." She stopped leafing through the magazine long enough to look at Kerry. "Oh, and the granny chain for your glasses --" She shook her head. "The glasses are good but the chain says 'Hi there, I'm on social security.'"

Kerry's mouth was agape and she stood there, trying to take in everything Randi was saying.

"You know what else would be good for you?" Randi said, pointing at Kerry. "If we got you some blouses that were more lower cut. Not slutty or anything, just enough to remind everybody that there's a woman under that lab coat. And I always say, if a person has a great rack, they should show it off."

Kerry sat down on the stool and stared.

"Now, shoes. I think what you are looking for is suede and lots of it…"

"Hey, shouldn't you be off?" Kim asked as she rounded the corner of the admit desk.

"I am off," Kerry said, writing her name on the board in white pencil. "I also happen to be still seeing patients."

"Well, that's too bad because I have to cover another half shift tonight and I was here to ask you if you wanted to head over to Doc's and have supper with me." Kerry turned and looked at Kim, a half-smile on her lips. Kim shrugged and looked apologetic. "I thought we could try again."

Kerry nodded. "I think I can sneak away for a bit. Give me ten minutes, okay?"

Kim nodded. "Okay," she said. She leaned against the counter, surveying the action in chairs.

"Hey, Dr. Legaspi," Frank said. "You haven't given me your picks for this week's football pool."

"I totally forgot, Frank," she said. "Is it too late?"

"No," the stocky man said. "But given the way you've been cleaning up, maybe we shouldn't let you in for a while. How many weeks have you won now?"

Kim grinned. "Four."

Kerry pulled up beside Frank, slapped a chart down and started writing.

"Four," he repeated shaking his head. "I'll be damned. I never would have taken you for such a football expert, Dr. Legaspi." He looked around, then leaned closer to her. "Tell me how you do it."

Kim smiled. "I have a system."

Frank's eyes widened a little. "Oh yeah? Do you use the predictions from the odds makers?"

Kim shook her head.

"Is it some mathematical thing, like with the statistics of the team?"

Kim shook her head again.

"Well, what is it?" he asked, in a conspiratorial tone.

Kerry looked up from her chart. "Every week she takes the list of the teams playing and she finds out the colour of each team's jersey. Then she picks the colour she likes best."

Frank looked from Kim to Kerry and back again, mouth open. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Afraid not, Frank," Kim said. "That's my system."

He stared at her a moment longer, then gathered up his charts and papers and stomped away.

A gurney slammed through the ambulance bay doors. Kerry glanced around and saw no white coats.

"What have you got?" she said, rushing to meet the stretcher.

"Twenty eight year old female, LOC at the site, multiple injuries inflicted with a baseball bat --"

"Oh, my God," Kerry said, "there's gray matter in her hair"

"-- blunt force trauma to abdomen, legs, arms and head. Heart rate is sixty seven, blood pressure eighty five over fifty, intubated in the field."

"Do you know her name?"

"Her name is Amy Walker."

Kim's heart leaped into her throat. She trotted down the hall after the gurney. By the time she got to the trauma room door, Kerry and Haleh were in motion, hooking the blood soaked body up to machines and tubes. Chuney pushed past Kim and she heard Kerry holler for an amp of epi. Kim stood there, watching the elaborate ballet of people moving around Amy Walker's broken body, then took a few steps back. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Section Four

Kerry peered around the door frame and looked into Kim's office. She sat in her rocking chair, knees drawn up, facing her small window, staring out at the darkening sky. Kerry tapped a knuckle on her door. She didn't even turn.

Kerry took a few steps into her office and quietly closed the door. "You disappeared," she said.

Kim didn't look back. "Did she die?"

Kerry swallowed hard. "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, she did. Her brain injuries were…extensive."

Kim said nothing and Kerry risked a few steps closer. "I didn't know that you had talked to her until I saw her chart from earlier today."

Kim nodded. "Yeah, she's just one more of my success stories."

Kerry navigated around the low coffee table and sat down at the very end of the sofa, close to Kim.

"I know it sounds weak, Kim, but it's not your fault." Kerry studied Kim's face in the half-light and wondered if she'd been crying.

"Yes, it is, Kerry," Kim said and her voice was so flat and lifeless that for a moment, Kerry was frightened. "I had a chance today to help her. To save her life. And I didn't. So because of me, tonight, three children watched their mother be beaten to death."

"Kim, you did everything you could," Kerry said.

"No, I didn't. I could've pushed her husband into saying something that I could have held him for."

"And three days later, he goes home and does this anyway," Kerry said, "and you've put your license at risk which would keep you from helping all the other people who need you."

Kim ran an impatient hand through her hair and got up. "I've got to get back to the ward," she said. "Are you going home soon or are you --"

"Kim, please," Kerry said, getting to her feet. "Just stay and talk to me for two minutes."

"I can't," Kim said, smoothing her hair. "I'm the only attending on tonight and I should be back at the ward."

Kerry huffed. "Kim, you're upset. Please just --"

"I've got to go, Kerry," she said and she grabbed her clipboard from her desk and hurried out the door.

Kerry sank back down onto the sofa, willing the tears in her throat to retreat.

The glowing readout on the clock radio said 2:36 a.m. when Kim carefully slipped out of bed. She paused for a moment and looked down at Kerry and at the space she'd just left in the bed. Kerry lay on her side, the blankets clutched to her chin. Kim longed to reach over and touch her face, to maybe ground herself, but she couldn't wake her, not at this hour, not right now.

She found her robe and slipped into it, tying it with numb fingers as she crept towards the bathroom. She shut the door softly behind her and turned on the light. Her reflection assaulted her and she averted her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the tub, leaned her elbows on her knees and started to cry.

Silent tears at first and then hiccupping moans. She rocked herself and thought about the faces of those three kids, sitting there in the exam room, the oldest girl fussing over the little boy, holding hands and whispering in each other's ears. The oldest couldn't have been more than eight. The noise in the house would've surely wakened her -- because even though it was becoming common place to take a human life, you still couldn't really do it quietly.

A sob escaped her and she quickly put a hand over her mouth and tried to smother the noise. Had she crept downstairs, that little girl in the mismatched clothes that Kim had met only that afternoon? Had she gone down to check on her parents, to maybe defend her mom, or perhaps just to assess the risk to her and her siblings? Whatever the case, she'd probably seen it. Probably watched her father pinning her mother in place so that he could hit her. She'd probably witnessed the fatal blows from the baseball bat, had very likely been looking at her mother's face when Amy Walker had realized that she should have left him.

Another sob ripped through her throat and Kim struggled to suppress it. Both arms wrapped around her waist, rocking violently in an ill-fated attempt to comfort herself, she cried. She cried for that little girl, she cried for Amy Walker and she cried for herself.

She wondered if she'd ever be able to stop.

Kerry rooted deep in the back of Kim's closet, pushing past worn out running shoes, boxes of photographs and in-line skates, wondering where in hell her statuesque lover kept her goddam bathing suit. A small suitcase was open on the bed and beside it were neat little piles of clothes for each of the women. Kerry had managed to find the pair of plaid flannel boxer shorts that Kim liked to lounge around in, her favourite most broken in jeans and two of her most beloved pullovers. But she couldn't find her bathing suit and that fact was making her want to curse.

Kerry stepped out of the closet and looked around the room, thinking.

Aha. Lingerie drawer.

It had been the look on Kim's face this morning that had set this plan in motion. Kerry had fairly leaped out of bed while Kim was still in the shower to put the coffee on. By the time Kim had dragged herself downstairs, dressed in black wool pants and a black sweater, Kerry had made fresh fruit salad and was taking muffins out of the oven. And then she'd seen her lover's face.

The make up hid nothing this morning because the sadness and exhaustion that lined her face were not cosmetic. Kerry could tell she'd been crying, her clear blue eyes now puffy and red-rimmed, and she doubted that she'd slept at all.

She'd sat down at the island without a word, not brooding, but clearly unable to speak and Kerry had poured her coffee and put a bowl of fruit salad in front of her. Kim had managed an anemic smile, recognizing that Kerry was fussing, but she looked at the bowl of carefully sliced fruit and had looked like she wanted to sob.

And that had been it. The plan had formed in Kerry's mind while she sat with Kim and drank coffee, urging her to have just a little muffin, just a little fruit. Kim had departed soon after, but not before Kerry had a tucked a paper lunch bag into her briefcase, with a sandwich, fruit and a muffin. She'd stood at the door in her bathrobe and watched Kim drag herself down the street to her car and then she'd started.

The first call was to Carl De Raad, who fortunately happened to owe her a favour and who, when he heard what Kerry was up to, was happy to help anyway. Kim had the next day off and he easily rearranged her shifts for the following day giving her two days off in a row.

Next, Kerry dug out her address book and sorted through several dozen business cards until she found the one she wanted.

"Deerhurst Lodge," a smooth voice said.

"Good morning," Kerry said. "I want to make reservations for two nights, arriving tonight and departing Sunday." She heard the clerk typing away at his terminal.

"Very good, ma'am and what sort of accommodation are you looking for?"

"I want a suite please, with a fireplace and Jacuzzi tub. Oh, and I'm going to want flowers delivered to the room and a good bottle of champagne waiting for us."

"Just one moment, ma'am and I will connect you with our concierge," the man said.

Ten minutes later, it was all arranged and Kerry had started to pack.

That was when the phone rang.

Kerry didn't hear it until the third or fourth ring since she'd been fishing through cupboards in Kim's bathroom, looking for Kim's toiletries bag. She hustled out into the hall to try to hear the voice on the machine, in case it was Kim.

"Hello, Dr. Legaspi, this is Elise at Dr. Goldman's office. Dr. Goldman asked me to call to confirm your appointment on Monday at 6:00 p.m. Thank you."

Kerry stood motionless and listened to the answering machine rewind itself.

Dr. Goldman. And it wasn't a consultation, Kim had an appointment with this doctor. And had never mentioned that name before.

Kerry crutched her way back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

It wasn't her GP. Kerry knew her GP's name was Winston. And her gynecologist was a woman named Epstein, Kerry knew that because when Kerry's obgyn had left the city, Kim had recommended Dr. Epstein.

She sat there, staring into space.

If Kim was sick, she would have told her… wouldn't she?

Kerry thought about the feeling of loneliness she'd had these past few weeks. How it felt to her like Kim was pulling away. She could very well be sick and would not have told her, Kerry realized and she had a queasy feeling suddenly in the pit of her stomach.

Dammit, why did this have to be so hard for her? Did everybody else just get some sort of manual that told them how to be in relationships? Because that's what she wanted -- some sort of operating manual or instruction book that could tell her how she was supposed to handle things, how she was supposed to be in this relationship with Kim.

Kerry sighed and looked around at the suitcase and the carefully folded clothes on the bed. She couldn't just sit by and let what she had with Kim crumble. It meant too much to her -- hell, it was everything to her. She had to figure out what to do.

She'd snagged a parking spot right across the street from the bookstore, but once she'd turned off the engine and gathered up her crutch, she froze. The sign to the store looked like it had been hand painted -- a gorgeous carved wooden sign with fantastical designs and the name in an elegant script: Sister Friends Bookstore. It had taken almost an hour to get here, but to Kerry, there had really been no other choice. She had not been able, in her most fevered imaginings, to see herself walking into one of the other two lesbian bookstores she'd found in the Yellow Pages -- Bush Fire or The Cunning Linguist, so she'd happily driven the extra miles to get to this point. Now the trick was getting herself out of this car and into that store.

With a disgusted shake of her head, she pushed the car door open, closed and locked everything, then crutched her way across the street. There was a window display of books by women poets but Kerry only glanced at it as she pulled the door open.

She wasn't here for poetry.

The store was much bigger than it looked from the street and whoever ran the place was making use of every square inch. Shelves and shelves of books, ceiling to floor, a few racks of CD's and video's, a tiny kid's section where a small sized table and chair and a toy box sat. To her immediate right was a display case of jewelry, most of which looked handmade. To the left of the check out desk Kerry spotted rainbows -- rainbow bumper stickers in every imagine shape, rainbow triangles, rainbow flags of varying sizes, t-shirts with rainbows, hats with rainbows, rainbow mugs, rainbow key chains, rainbow mouse pads, rainbow mobiles, rainbow boxer shorts…

She couldn't help but stand and stare for a moment. It was all just a little too…well, the word 'gay' came to mind, but perhaps given the circumstances, 'cheerful' would have to do.

"Good morning, can I help you find anything?"

Kerry turned at the sound of the voice. A woman, probably several years older than Kerry had emerged from behind a display case. Her salt and pepper hair was cut very short and her face was tanned and somewhat lined. She had a row of piercings along the outside edge of one ear and she wore jeans, a crisp white t-shirt and a colourful vest with geometric designs, which looked to Kerry like Navajo art.

Kerry realized she was staring and she gave herself a shake. "Uh, no. No thank you, I'm -- I'm just looking."

The woman smiled at Kerry and Kerry was struck by the softness of her eyes -- there was a wisdom there, or some sense of knowing some wonderful secret. "All right. If you do need anything, just shout." She ambled off to unload paperbacks from a box.

Kerry scanned the store, searching for the section she wanted. And what section would that be now, she asked herself? The Brand New Scaredy Cat Lesbian section? Or maybe the My Lover Seems Distant And I Don't Know What To Do section? Kerry rolled her eyes at herself yet again. She had come here to learn something. Her whole life, whenever she had needed to know something -- cooking to sex to medicine to investing -- she had been able to find the answers she needed by reading the right books. And she sure as hell wasn't going to learn it by cowering by this orgy of rainbows. She plunged forward.

Passing fiction, glancing at names -- "Daughters of Darkness: Lesbian Vampire Stories" and "Best Lesbian Erotica 2001" -- she spotted Self-Help, Sexuality and Relationships clustered together on one wall and she made a beeline. She barely overcame the urge to look over both shoulders as she started to skim the titles, and quietly hated herself for being a little pleased that she was the only customer in the store.

She slid a finger along the spines of the books -- "What the Bible Really Says About Homosexuality," "A Legal Guide for Lesbian and Gay Couples," "The Art of Meeting Women: A Guide for Gay Women."

She sighed a little and checked the next shelf. Her eyes fell on a volume and stuck there. "Lesbian Epiphanies: Coming Out Later in Life." This time she did glance over her shoulder, then slipped the volume out and opened it. She started to skim the pages, then slowed more and more absorbed as she read.

She had no idea how long she'd been standing there when the clerk passed by with an armful of books and paused. "There's an armchair over there, if you'd like to sit and read for a while. You'd be more comfortable."

Kerry very nearly threw the book in the air, having been startled by the woman's voice, but mainly because she could not seem to shake the feeling that she was doing something wrong, by being here.

"I'm -- I'm fine, thanks," she managed to say and the clerk in the colourful vest looked at her a little longer than she needed to, then nodded and headed on her way.

Kerry caught her breath, then tucked the book under her arm. Although it wasn't what she had come for, "Lesbian Epiphanies" was hitting very close to home and it merited further investigation. She continued her search.

She cocked her head and read more spines: "The Essential Guide to Gay and Lesbian Weddings," "The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader," and "Now That You're Out of the Closet."

The clerk was two sets of shelves away now, restocking some paperbacks and Kerry stole a glance at her. She was humming along to the music that was being piped through the store's speakers -- two women with nice voices and complicated guitar music -- and Kerry studied her for a moment. The woman felt her gaze finally and she turned and smiled.

"I like your vest," Kerry said. "It looks like a Navajo design."

"It is," the woman said. "I got it at a women's music festival in New Mexico last year."

Kerry nodded and smiled and couldn't make herself speak.

The woman gave Kerry a puzzled look. "Are you sure I can't help you find anything?" Those soft, reassuring eyes again.

Kerry stood there for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. "I'm not sure you have what I'm looking for," she said.

The woman waited, her face open and encouraging.

Kerry looked at her feet and cursed herself for her fear. "I'm -- I'm still kind of new at this," she said.

The woman nodded, took in Kerry's fidgeting hands and smiled. "I understand. I'm Rhonda, by the way."

"Kerry." A clumsy smile.

"Can you give me a general sort of idea what you're looking for?" Rhonda asked.

Kerry bit her lip. "Something about…relationships," she said. "And how to…well,…be in them?" She wanted to beat her head in against the shelves in embarrassment the moment the words were out of her mouth.

Rhonda, however, was immediately on the case. "I think we might have something along that line," she said, slipping past Kerry to a shelf a few feet away. She pulled out two trade paperbacks and held them out. Kerry scanned the titles -- "Permanent Partners: Building Gay and Lesbian Relationships That Last" and "Lesbian Couples: A Guide to Creating Healthy Relationships."

"I've read 'Lesbian Couples,'" Rhonda said, "and there were some good things in it. Probably what you're after. Except…"

Kerry's eyes shot up and she studied the older woman's face. "Except what?"

Rhonda fidgeted, then leaned against the book shelf. "Well, I suppose everybody's different, but I just found that a lot of what they say in these relationship books is kind of common sense."

Kerry listened intently. "Common sense? Like what in particular?"

"Let me put it this way," Rhonda said. "If I was writing a book about lesbian relationships, I would have two main points." She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. "First of all, lesbian relationships aren't that different from any other kind of relationship. After all, it's about love and communication and respect and that sort of thing, right?"

Kerry weighed this and nodded.

"The big difference is that it's two women, which to my way of thinking can only make things easier," Rhonda said. "I mean, women are supposed to be the emotional, intuitive sex, right? It's just like women who feel afraid when faced with their first sexual encounter with a woman. I mean, a woman knows how a woman wants to be touched, am I right?"

Kerry nodded and smiled slightly.

"It's as natural as falling off a log," Rhonda continued. "Anyway, my second point would be this: just relax and follow your instincts."

Kerry's expression turned thoughtful suddenly. "What if your instincts are wrong?"

Rhonda shook her head vehemently. "Your instincts are never wrong. The only thing that's ever wrong is how we decide to act, after we hear what our instincts have told us to do." She raised an eyebrow at Kerry. "And you're already ignoring the first part of that rule -- the relax part. It's not brain surgery -- you don't have to try so hard. Just…., well, it sounds corny, but just follow your heart." She smiled again and Kerry basked in the warmth of those twinkling eyes. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be better at it than you think."

Kerry stood there for a moment, her mind whirling with what she'd just heard. Rhonda watched her then said quietly, "So, did I talk you out of those books or are you still interested in buying them?"

Kerry looked at the volumes in her hand and shook her head. "Maybe I don't really need them after all," she said and she handed them back to Rhonda. "I would like to get this one though." She held up the book about women who came out later in life.

Rhonda nodded her approval. "Good choice," she said and she led Kerry to the cash register at the front of the store.

She rang up the sale and rooted under the counter for a small bag for Kerry's book. "May I ask who the lucky woman is?" Rhonda said, slipping the purchase into the bag.

Kerry smiled without intending to and looked down at the counter. "Her name is Kim," she said. "And she's…incredible. I think I'm the lucky one."

Rhonda's smile grew by degrees as she studied Kerry's face. She handed her her book and receipt. "Take care, Kerry. And drop by again."

Kerry took the bag and gave Rhonda one last good look, then nodded and slipped out the door.

October skies were flying past her small window and every few sentences, Kim found herself looking up from her notes on her therapy session with Michael Lynch and his family, to mindlessly soar along with the mashed potato clouds that she saw.

The session could have gone worse, she supposed. For instance, something could have caught fire.

She sighed and picked up her pen again, resumed transcribing her thoughts, clinical observations and anything else that might help the four of them communicate a little better, the next time they met. Michael had held up remarkably well, but Kim wasn't entirely convinced that that wasn't some sort of defense. However, she had immediately liked Michael's mother, could see where he got his features, his eyes. Maybe even his temperament.

Dad on the other hand, was a retired Marine major who had shown himself to be a by-the-book, no-faggots-in-this-family kind of guy and who had gone from sobbing with relief at the sight of Michael, through stone-faced denial ("Are you crazy? Of course you're not a homosexual! That's ridiculous!") and straight on to fury ("No God damn son of mine is going to be a faggot!") in a little over forty minutes.

Kim wanted to sigh even now, thinking back on it. The look on Michael's face before and after he'd told them -- she'd wondered at one point if he was actually going to faint, right there in her office. Then there was the shade of purple that Major Lynch's face had achieved while he'd bellowed impotently about this outrageous situation. And of course, Mrs. Lynch, who'd reached out and took her son's hand more than once, whose wise and compassionate eyes had never left Michael's face as he spoke. The look on everyone's face when Kim had flatly told Major Thomas Lynch, USMC, (ret.) that he would either speak civilly to his son or he would be asked to leave.

A step forward. An infinitesimally small step perhaps, but a step nevertheless.

The soft knock on her door made her look at her watch. Dammit, she was off now, couldn't they just leave her alone?

"Come in," she called and Kerry's face appeared through a crack in the door.

Kim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Hey," she said. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Kerry studied her lover's face, saw the fatigue and the discouragement and knew that this was just the thing. "Get your coat," Kerry said. "I'm taking you someplace."

A little more than two hours later, Kim took a few steps into the lobby of Deerhurst Lodge and stared, open-mouthed, at the cathedral ceiling of this huge, warm room. Built entirely of logs, it was a stunning feat of architecture, a sort of rustic skyscraper and she doubted she'd ever seen anything like it before. In the center of the room, at the peak of the ceiling and stretching down to the floor, was a massive four-sided field stone fireplace. Two of the four hearths were lit and there were pillowy sofas and armchairs scattered around the huge stone pillar. Kim turned to look at Kerry, her eyes still wide with wonder.

"When you said you were taking me someplace, I thought you meant, you know, dinner," she said.

Kerry chuckled. "Oh, we can get dinner here, too," she said. She smiled at Kim's expression. "You keep staring and I'll go check us in."

The front desk was across the lobby and was all dark wood paneling and forest green accents. An incredibly well-groomed young man snapped to attention as she approached.

Kerry gave him her reservation number and he dispensed with the necessary paperwork quickly, then told her that the "special arrangements" that she had requested had been taken care of by the concierge. Then, he handed her a room key and a pamphlet that listed the many seasonal activities that guests were welcome to enjoy. Kerry glanced at the list -- horseback riding, tennis, golf, mountain biking and rock climbing, cross country skiing, snow shoeing and skating. She paused as she tucked her credit card back into her wallet. There wasn't a single thing on that list that she could do with Kim without completely embarrassing herself, or, more likely, injuring herself. Not one. She looked across at Kim, who was inspecting one of the fireplaces and she felt a sudden pressure in her chest, near her heart, like someone was squeezing the life out of her. How long was it going to take for her slightly-younger and much more mobile girlfriend to get tired of being dragged down by her disabled, quasi-geriatric partner? Kerry stood deathly still for a moment and panic started to overtake her. And then Rhonda's gentle eyes came to her and she heard her wise words again.

Relax.

Kerry took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, then stowed her wallet in her coat. She lifted her chin defiantly and set off to get Kim.

The roses were in a lovely glass vase and there were a dozen and they were long stemmed, just as Kerry had requested. The concierge had left them out on an end table in the small sitting room of their suite, so that these beautiful blood red flowers were the first thing you saw upon entering.

Kerry watched Kim read the card. She had agonized for ever over it and in the end had gone with the simple but elegant, "I love you, Kerry," and had hoped that that had been a good choice. Kim looked up at her after she'd read it and she wordlessly took Kerry in her arms and held her. Apparently, it had been a good choice.

"Thank you," Kim said, finally, when she released Kerry from her embrace. "Thank you for this. For all of this."

Kerry suddenly found she couldn't quite meet Kim's eyes. "Well, I just thought, you know, you've been working so hard…you could use a break."

Kim nodded and Kerry didn't like the look in her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I could."

"Well, listen, why don't you put something comfortable on and I'll open the champagne and when we're ready, we'll take a look through the menu and see what we might like for supper," Kerry said.

Kim cocked her head. "You want to eat in?" she asked. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the dining room?"

Kerry shook her head as she made her way towards the bottle of 1989 Louis Roederer Brut that sat on the coffee table, by a cheese tray and a small fruit basket. She noticed that champagne was even the year she'd requested. "I'm happy to stay in tonight," she said. "We can always do the fancy dining room tomorrow."

"That sounds good," Kim said and she headed off to the bedroom to change.

Kerry picked up the corkscrew and the bottle and watched her go, silently imploring the gods to let this help whatever was wrong.

They feasted on fresh sole and green beans provançale and potato rosettes that had been baked to fluffy perfection and Kerry noted, with some relief, that Kim was eating eagerly and matching her glass for glass of the spicy Viognier they'd ordered with the fish. But none of this quite wore away the gnawing feeling that she was sitting there by herself at times, so withdrawn and distracted was her lovely dinner companion.

Kerry tried safe topics, but didn't get far. She studiously avoided any mention of work, since the whole point of this little trip was to put some distance between Kim and that place -- not that it didn't appear that she'd carried all of it with her, judging by the slump of her shoulders. Kerry even considered bringing up the topic of the mysterious Dr. Goldman, whose message she'd overheard and then a terrifying thought struck her, made her breath catch in her throat. What if it wasn't work that was weighing so heavily on Kim, making her look each morning like she'd been crying all night? What if she was ill -- seriously ill -- and that knowledge was what was stealing the light from her beautiful eyes?

The urge to blurt out the question struck and Kerry opened her mouth to ask, then froze. Kim drew her eyes from the fireplace and looked over at Kerry, who sat beside her on the sofa. She raised her eyebrows in a question at the tiny woman.

Kerry held her breath.

"What?" Kim asked, then drained her wineglass.

"Nothing," Kerry said, finally, her heart slamming against her ribs. "I was -- I just -- I was thinking that you looked tired."

Kim nodded. "I am," she said. "I think I might turn in soon."

Kerry sat there, dumb. "Uh, sure. Yeah, That would be good."

Kerry slipped out of the bathroom and made her way to the huge four poster bed in the center of the room. She propped her crutch nearby, then shrugged off her robe and eased herself under the sheets, sighing at the crisp coolness of the cotton. She looked over and saw Kim, curled up on her side, her lean form outlined by blankets, her hair tucked back behind her ear. Kerry watched her for a long moment, realizing that she seemed so far away in this gigantic bed, and then chided herself for taking that personally.

Follow your heart, Rhonda had said. And she was determined to.

She turned off the light and then slid closer to Kim, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling herself against Kim's long warm back. The very touch of her skin made moisture rush between Kerry's legs and she felt her own breathing deepen. She kissed Kim's creamy shoulder and nuzzled the vulnerable patch of neck just beneath her ear. It made her want to moan, the smell of this woman, the feel of her. She slid one hand up Kim's belly and caressed the silken side of Kim's breast.

Kim stirred. "Kerry?"

Kerry froze. "Yes?"

A pause. "I'm just -- I don't think I can --"

Kerry's hand flew off her as if she'd been burned. "Oh, okay. That's all right. I understand."

Kim rolled over and propped herself on an elbow. "I'm so sorry, it's not you, it's me, I just don't --"

"No, no, it's not a problem, Kim. I completely understand."

Kim peered at her in the darkness. "I'm really sorry. I'm just so tired."

Kerry was tucking the blankets tightly around herself. "You're right. You need to sleep. You just sleep now."

Kim sighed. "Maybe tomorrow? Can I get a rain check?"

"Sure. You just sleep."

"Okay," Kim said and Kerry could hear the sorrow in her voice. "'Night."

"Goodnight, Kim."

The covers rustled and Kim laid back down, a thousand miles away from Kerry.

Kerry lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

The alarm clock on Kerry's side of the bed trumpeted the fact that it was 3:37 a.m. and Kerry sighed.

This was not how she had hoped things would go.

Beside her, in the dark, she could just hear Kim's slow, regular breathing and she realized that she was grateful that Kim was asleep. She needed some rest, Kerry certainly didn't begrudge her that.

It was just the fact that Kerry longed to touch her, physically ached to move closer to her, slide an arm around her, anything, any sort of contact at all. But she didn't -- couldn't actually, because she was so thoroughly humiliated. She had tried to touch Kim, hours ago, had laid herself on the line, made herself totally vulnerable. And Kim had said no.

And so she lay there, well over on her side of the king-sized mattress and she worried.

She worried about Kim -- what was wrong? She'd never seen her like this and then suddenly the phone call from Dr. Goldman's office was replaying itself so loudly in her ears that she was afraid it might wake Kim up. What was wrong? And why wouldn't she talk about it? She cursed herself for not looking in the phone book for Dr. Goldman's address and specialty -- which of course would be invading Kim's privacy, something she would never do. If Kim wanted to talk to her about it, then she would do so in her own good time and Kerry would just have to be patient.

But what if it was serious? What if she was seriously ill? Time might be of the essence and even if Kim thought that it didn't concern Kerry, Kerry would be there to tell her that it did, it absolutely did. She had to know what it was. She thought about waking her up, right then and confronting her about it.

A sigh from Kim and she shifted slightly in her sleep, then fell back into her long, peaceful pattern of breathing.

Maybe it wasn't about Kim at all, Kerry thought. Maybe it was about her. After all, it seemed that Kim was able to keep her game face on all day at the hospital. It was mostly when they were alone that Kerry saw the cracks, that Kim was so tired, so withdrawn, so --

Oh my God. It was her. How could she have not seen it? It was exactly as Kerry had feared from the very beginning -- she had so little to offer Kim and Kim had either tired of her or had started to realize that Kerry just wasn't enough for her.

Kerry's body was rigid with fear now and tears were quickly pooling in her eyes. She rolled over, away from Kim, slipping a trembling hand over her mouth to hold back the sobs.

She should have expected it, really. What had she been thinking? This young, vibrant, beautiful woman hooking up with her? This wasn't insecurity, Kerry thought, this was just a case of facing the facts. She was old -- she knew it and as much as she tried to take care of herself, gravity and time had a way of working on you that no amount of exercise or skin cream could undo. Add to that the fact that she limped and was wedded to that damn crutch -- she had a flash of how she'd looked that day at the Kim's health club, when she'd spotted her reflection in the mirror. What could Kim ever see in a goddam cripple, she thought bitterly and she wanted to spit the words out, yell them out into the stillness of the bedroom.

The silent tears were hot as they slid across her nose and down her cheek and she brushed them away with an impatient hand.

No wonder she doesn't want to make love with me, Kerry thought. No wonder.

A noise from the other side of the bed -- a frightened little moan that sliced through Kerry's heart. She propped herself up on an elbow and peered through the gloom towards Kim.

A ragged breath and a whimper and Kerry rolled over and slid close to Kim, who was moving deadened limbs and groaning at some dream danger. Kerry stroked Kim's forehead, smoothed back her disheveled hair.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered. "It's okay. You're safe."

She touched Kim's cheek, caressing the skin, soothing the woman back into peaceful sleep.

When Kim was still again, Kerry wiped away the last of the moisture from her own cheeks and she lay back, burrowing into the pillows with a deep sigh.

None of this matters, she thought. None of it. I have never given up on anything before in my life and I'm not going to give up on this. Maybe I am older. And maybe I've never had a relationship like this with a woman -- hell, with anyone. And maybe I can't go running with Kim or cycling with Kim or climb bloody rock faces with Kim. What mattered -- all that mattered, she thought, was that she loved Kim -- more than she'd ever loved anyone else before. Surely that was worth fighting for.

Kerry sighed wearily, closed her eyes and longed for sleep.

It was the chill that woke her. Kicking and tossing in her restless sleep, she'd managed to throw most of the covers onto the floor and the cool air had roused her from her flimsy rest.

Kerry hiked herself up a little, unable to pinpoint what was wrong. And then she felt the void nearby and she looked at Kim's side of the bed. The sheets were tossed back and she was gone.

Kerry's stomach seized with fear and she bounded out of bed, grabbing her robe and her crutch as she went. She peered quickly into the bathroom, then shuffled towards the sitting room, grabbing a heavy blanket from the bed in passing.

The silhouette at the window startled her until she realized that it was Kim, sitting on the window seat, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around herself, whether for comfort or warmth, Kerry didn't know. She wondered if she should leave her to her thoughts but a moment later, she was making her way across the room towards her.

Kim looked up at the movement, but didn't seemed surprised to see her.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Kim said.

Kerry shook her head as she settled on the bench, opposite Kim. "You didn't." She handed Kim the blanket and Kim wrapped it around her shoulders, then turned her gaze back out the window.

"The leaves have changed a lot more here than in Chicago," Kim said, "You can even see it in the moonlight."

Kerry glanced blindly out the window, then looked back at Kim. "Kim, what's wrong?" she said.

Kim shrugged. "I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I guess I'm still wound up from work."

Kerry's gaze was piercing and soft at once. "No, I mean what's wrong? You're not yourself these days."

Kim sighed a long, heavy sigh. "Work," she said. "Too many shifts, too many patients." She looked apologetic. "Too much stress, I guess."

Kerry stared at her for as long as she dared. "Who is Dr. Goldman?"

Kim returned the stare with a blank expression. "Dr. Goldman? Oh, you mean Charlotte." Then her brow furrowed. "How do you know about --?"

"Her office phoned for you yesterday," Kerry said, desperately wanting to avoid looking at Kim now. "I -- I overheard the message on your machine."

Kim wasn't sure whether to laugh or just get up and leave. "Charlotte is a psychiatrist. And also an old friend. She was my therapist when I first became a psych resident." Kim paused there, slightly annoyed and not too sure why.

Kerry finally spoke. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing her?"

Kim looked back out the window and pulled the blanket closer around her. "Because it wasn't important and because I didn't want you to misinterpret it and get all worried." She arched an eyebrow at Kerry. "Although apparently, I didn't do a very good job of that, did I?" She studied the smaller woman's face. "What? Did you think I had a brain tumour that I was keeping from you or something?"

Kerry tried to chuckle in a good-natured fashion, but of course, that was only one of the horrific scenarios that she had entertained since she'd overhead the call. She quickly moved on to divert attention. "So, how long have you been seeing her?"

Both women heard the tone that she had not intended to use -- one part subtly jealous, one part accusing, one part hurt. Kerry saw the change in Kim's expression and would've died to take the words back just then.

"I've only seen her once, recently," Kim said. "But for the record, it's not like I'm sneaking around behind your back, having an affair."

"Kim, it came out wrong. I -- I shouldn't have asked," Kerry said.

Kim shook her head in frustration. "God, give me some credit, Kerry."

Kerry looked at her, searching her eyes, her face. "I feel like I don't know what to do for you, lately," she said, finally, her shoulders slumping slightly as she spoke. "Like I don't know you very well anymore."

Kim drew in a long breath and blew it out, then looked Kerry straight in the eye. "Look, we need this time together. Alone together, with no beepers or residents or patients." She took Kerry's hand and held it. "I don't want to talk about anything serious or important for a few days. I just want to be here, in this lovely place, with you. Can't we just do that?"

Kerry nodded, measuring the sadness in Kim's eyes. "Yeah, we can do that," she said but something at the back of her mind was whispering to her.

"Okay," Kim said and her smile was at least a decent imitation of her real smile. "Let's go back to bed, all right?"

Kim shook off the blanket and stood, extending a hand to Kerry. Kerry looked at the long, graceful fingers, imagined them plucking the strings of her body.

"I'll be along in a minute," Kerry said.

Kim paused and tried to read her face, then nodded. "All right."

Kerry watched her go, her silky robe swaying as she moved and she wondered why Kim hadn't wanted to tell her what she was seeing Charlotte about.

The smell of coffee and the stabbing pain in her neck roused her suddenly from her sleep. Kerry tried to sit up and grab the offending neck muscle at the same time and it all went badly. She collapsed back onto the sofa cushion that she'd propped her head on when she'd laid down, hours ago.

Kim's face came into view above her and Kerry rubbed her bleary eyes.

"Good morning," Kim said and her smile was genuine, it made Kerry smile a little with her.

"Morning," Kerry said, dragging herself cautiously to a sitting position. "I must have fallen asleep on the couch." She rubbed her neck and experimented with moving it.

"Would coffee help?" Kim asked. She was wearing jeans, her favourite sweater and loafers and she sat down on the coffee table before Kerry, holding a mug with steaming, aromatic coffee. Kerry accepted it with grateful thanks and sank back into the sofa and sipped the hot beverage carefully.

"Listen, Kerry, about last night," Kim started.

Kerry shook her head. "No, I was out of line and I --"

"No, you weren't. I've been so--"

"It's not you, Kim, it's me. I know I --"

Kim held up a hand. "Just hear me out, okay?"

Kerry hesitated, then nodded.

"I realize I haven't been there for you, lately. I haven't even been able to keep a simple dinner date some days." Kim steepled her fingers together and studied them. "That must have made you feel…like I've been avoiding you or something, like I didn't want to spend time with you." She smiled a little and looked deep into Kerry's sleepy rimmed eyes. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, you do know that, don't you? You're the most important thing in my life, Kerry, and I would do anything for you."

Kerry studied Kim's face. "Then you have to start taking better care of yourself, Kim. For me. Because you're exhausted and you're stressed and it's hurting you." Tears were in Kerry's eyes and she cursed them. "I can't watch you hurting yourself, Kim. I can't."

Kim slid off the coffee table and onto the sofa and took Kerry into her arms. "I know. And you shouldn't have to." She dropped a pair of kisses on top of Kerry's head. "I'll do a better job when we get back. I promise."

They sat together soaking up the warmth of the other's body, until there was a knock on the door. Kim got to her feet. "I ordered breakfast," she said, searching for her wallet. "And after breakfast, I think we should try out the Jacuzzi tub and then decide what to do with the rest of our day." A big, goofy smile. "Sound good?"

Kerry smiled along. "Sounds great." And it did.

They had a private little table for two, away from the bustle of the main dining room, with candles and linen napkins and an attentive waiter who knew to only show up when they wanted him. Kim was just pouring the remainder of a bottle of pinot noir between their glasses and Kerry could feel the glow in her cheeks from this bottle and the one before it.

Kim took a drink from her glass and savoured the wine a moment. "I think I like this one better than the first," she said. "What do you think?"

Kerry gazed across the table at her lover, whose cornflower blue silk blouse was making her eyes extraordinarily deep and electric in this light and she thought to herself that they could be drinking water from a garden hose tonight and she'd like that just fine.

"Kerry?" Kim asked. "You still with me?"

Kerry nodded, smiling at herself. "I was just thinking." She picked up her glass and tasted the burgundy liquid. "It's very good," she said. "I don't think I could pick."

"You know what would be wonderful?" Kim said and she played with her wine glass, swirled it in little circles across the pristine tablecloth.

"What?"

"To take some time off in the spring, or next fall, whatever, and fly to Oregon, rent a car and then drive south, hitting all the wineries and vineyards, staying in B and B's until we got to San Francisco."

Kerry's eyebrows flew up. "That would be wonderful. And we could stay in San Francisco for a couple days, see the sights, eat some seafood."

"Well, then, it's a plan," Kim said, and she reached over and touched Kerry's hand and Kerry felt her temperature rise another few degrees. She doubted that it was the wine.

She gazed at Kim for a long moment, just smiling.

"What?" Kim said, her own smile growing while she watched Kerry.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head absently. "I just had -- I had a really nice day today."

Kim's smile grew and she touched Kerry's hand again, squeezing it before letting go. "Good," she said. "You deserve it." A flicker of mischief passed through her eyes and she added, "And the day's not over yet, is it?"

Kerry couldn't take her eyes off Kim -- hadn't been able to all day. Not while they strolled through the little artist's village that had sprung up not far from the lodge, or while they had sat at the tiny French bakery in a nearby town, sipping petits cafés and eating croissants filled with luscious chocolate. She had watched Kim try on hand made silver jewelry, she had watched her examine pottery bowls and platters in a small gallery, she had even watched her browsing through first editions in the stacks of a used bookstore. She couldn't get enough of her and it was only dawning on her now, why exactly that was -- Kim was back.

Kerry could barely contain her joy, it was making her chest feel uncomfortably full, but the fact of the matter was that whatever part of Kim had been gone these past weeks and months -- it was back. It was back and she was more like herself than she'd been in so long.

Kerry thought she might cry, right there in this beautiful, stately restaurant.

"Do you feel like getting dessert?" Kim asked. "Because I saw that they have a cheesecake here that --" The look on Kerry's face made her stop. "What?" Kim said, the dessert menu in hand.

Kerry shook her head. "I don't want dessert," she said softly.

Kim put the dessert menu down. "Oh, okay," she said. "We can always wait a little and…" Kerry's eyes unhinged her, made the sentence die in her mouth. And then her eyebrows rose.

"Oh," Kim said. And then again, with the hint of a smile. "Oh." She quickly looked around for their waiter and when she caught his eye, she motioned for him to bring the check.

Kim leaned closer to Kerry and gazed into her eyes, tried to see all the shades of green that sparkled there. "You never stop amazing me, you know that?"

Kerry's eyes never wavered. "Hurry up and sign the check," she said.

They walked hand in hand back to their room, oblivious to the odd double take from other guests. Kerry had worn her black suit -- the only piece of tailored clothing that she owned -- with her purple blouse. It was the only non-beige neutral suit that she had and she'd managed to match it with a bright blouse that was the lowest cut thing that she currently owned, Randi's advice ringing in her ears all the while.

The thought of asking Randi to go shopping with her was almost too much to bear.

But then, when she'd emerged from the bedroom, dressed for dinner and Kim had looked up from the newspaper she was reading, Kim's face had changed. Slightly astonished, then softening to approbation. She'd gotten up and come to Kerry, smiling foolishly, then had cupped Kerry's face in both hands and kissed her slowly on the mouth. "You look beautiful," she'd said and Kerry had flushed with delight.

Kerry knew that not only was she going to take Randi shopping, she was probably going to buy her lunch.

Kim unlocked the door to their room and let Kerry pass through first. Kim followed, shut the door, then stood there, a few feet away, looking at Kerry in the dim light.

"God, I've missed you," Kerry said and her voice caught in the back of her throat.

Kim spanned the distance between them in two strides and kissed her, wrapped her long, strong arms around the smaller woman and held her like she intended to never let her go.

"I want to make love to you," Kim whispered hoarsely in her ear, once she'd broken away from Kerry's lips.

Kerry nodded, her heart pounding in her ribs and she melted against Kim, dropping her crutch, never caring.

Kim slipped an arm around her waist and led her to the bedroom.

They'd made love most of Saturday night and well into Sunday morning. Had in fact almost missed the lodge's famous gourmet brunch because they'd been laying in the huge four poster bed together, gloriously naked, drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper, with every intention of making the eleven o'clock sitting. And then, Kerry had absently reached out to stroke Kim's leg as she read about the most recent execution in Texas and Kim had shivered at her touch and…one thing had led to another and they were lucky to have made it for the 1:00 p.m. sitting.

Even the drive home had seemed idyllic, the fall colours splashed across the landscape, Kerry playing her Best of Motown CD and singing along enthusiastically. Kim had almost forgotten about Cook County and its exquisite tortures.

Almost.

"...I'm not running, I'm not hiding,
I'm not reaching, I'm just resting in the arms
Of the great wide open, gonna pull my soul in
And I'm almost home..."

MCC

Monday arrived with a vengeance and within twenty minutes of being in the building, Kim had found out they were an attending short, she'd had to reschedule most of her appointments for the afternoon and the ER was 911 beeping her.

Kim seriously doubted whether the weekend had happened at all.

She watched the numbers light up and dim on the panel above the elevator door. But it had been lovely, she thought. No, not lovely -- idyllic. And just in time for both of them.

An orderly got on the elevator with a gurney and Kim stepped aside to give them room. It had been a good idea, all in all, this trip to the luxurious lodge. And the fact that Kerry had planned it all for Kim made her get all teary if she thought about it too long. It was thoughtful and loving and so totally Kerry, and Kim realized, not for the first time, how lucky she was.

So why had she been worrying lately about losing her?

"Hey lady!" the young orderly said in a tone that implied it was not the first time he'd tried to get her attention. "Are you getting off or what? I gotta get this guy to the morgue before he rots!"

Kim shot a startled glance at the gurney, noticing that the white sheet had been pulled up over the patient's head. She looked back at the orderly, who was tapping his fingers impatiently on the metal bars of the rolling stretcher.

"Oh, I'm -- I'm -- sorry," she said and she stepped quickly out into the ER, turning to watch the elevator doors close.

Abby's face told Kim most of what she needed to know. She was standing beside the bed in exam room four, applying salve to a man's hands and forearms. There were burn bandages stacked on the cart beside her along with a dozen other supplies, and Abby worked slowly and methodically, peering up at her patient's face from time to time to check on his expression.

She looked up when Kim entered and tried to smile. "Dr. Legaspi, hi," she said softly. The man looked up at Kim and she could see that he looked much older than the thirty five years that the chart gave him.

"Did you speak to Dr. Malucci?" Abby asked, her hands still gently ministering to the man's hands.

Kim held up the chart. "He's with another patient, so I read his notes. He wanted me to speak with you, Mr. Lomask."

He lifted his lifeless brown eyes to her face again. "John. My name is John."

Kim pushed a stool closer to the bed and sat down. "Okay, John. I'm Dr. Legaspi. Can you tell me what happened?"

His eyes flicked away for a moment, like he'd just seen something scuttling into the corner. "I'm schizophrenic," he said and there was nothing behind the words. "I was diagnosed when I was 18."

Kim nodded. "Have you been on medication since that time?"

He nodded and watched Abby irrigating a patch of badly burned skin. "I've been on a couple of different ones, but I always took them. Always."

"But you're not on them right now, is that right?" Kim asked, gently.

He shook his head. "I lost my job. About four months ago. I'm a bookkeeper and the business I worked for -- well, I haven't got a job anymore. And I lost my health benefits and insurance and we've hardly been making ends meet and we've got two kids -- " He broke off abruptly and Kim saw an expression of horror cross his face. She and Abby exchanged looks.

"You haven't had enough money to get your medications, is that it, John?" Kim asked.

He nodded, absently staring at the wall. "The kids needed things and they had to eat."

Kim glanced at his baggy corduroy pants and saw how tightly his belt was cinched. She wondered if he'd been going without food for the children, too.

"Tell me what happened today, John," she said, her voice soothing and gentle.

"The spirits were back -- I'd tried to keep them away, but they just keep coming back. They were after my little girl."

"Could you see the spirits?"

He nodded and winced as Abby started to wrap one of his hands in gauze. "Yeah, I can see them. And I can see what they do to people. Even when nobody else sees." He dragged his gaze up to look at Kim's eyes. "They were going to do that to Laura. Thank God I wasn't on the medications right now, because I wouldn't have known what they were doing to her."

Kim nodded. "Laura's your daughter?"

A nod from the man and Kim thought about how much he looked like a skeleton, with his sunken eyes and prominent forehead.

"And you thought you could stop the spirits?" Kim asked.

"I did stop them," he said but there was little conviction in his voice.

"How?"

"I poured gasoline on them and I set fire to the demons. That's what you have to do. You have to burn them."

Kim looked down at his chart and bit her lip. When she looked up, the composure was in place. "You didn't just pour gasoline on the spirits, did you, John?" Kim leaned forward, hugging his chart to her chest. "You poured it on Laura, too. Isn't that what happened, John?"

He looked at her, pleading. "They were inside her. They were going to eat her alive. Have you ever seen that happen? Do you know how the person suffers?"

Kim overrode the instinct to back away. Instead, she kept her expression calm and she nodded. "I understand what you're saying, John. You didn't want Laura to suffer."

Abby's eyes flicked up and she stole a glance at Kim.

"Okay, I think the first thing that we need to do is to get you on your medication again. How does that sound?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea -- when I take the pills, I can't see the spirits. What if they come back?"

"Laura will be safe here. I promise."

"Is she going to be all right?" he asked and Kim saw a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. "I know she was burned. But -- I didn't know what else to do, Dr. Legaspi. I didn't know how else to help her."

Kim looked at this tired, broken man in front of her and she tried to smile reassuringly. "I know you didn't."

There was a sharp rapping on the window of the exam room and both Abby and Kim jumped. Malucci was there, motioning for Kim to come out and speak to him.

Kim turned back to Mr. Lomask and picked up his chart. "Abby, could you give Mr. Lomask 5 migs of Droperidol, " she said and she noted her orders in his chart. "I'm just going to talk to Dr. Malucci for a moment and then we'll make arrangements for you to be admitted, John. I think for right now, we need to keep a close eye on you and on how you react to the medications. Is that all right?"

Lomask nodded. "Could you please find out how Laura is? I need to know if I got all the spirits out of her."

Kim made herself smile. "I'll find out how she is."

She nodded to Abby who was just finishing up with the bandages and she slipped out the door.

Malucci fairly pounced on her and Kim unconsciously took a step backwards and away from him.

"Hurry up and give him something to sedate him because the cops are on their way," Malucci said.

Kim's eyes widened and she made herself pause before she answered.

"Pardon?"

"I called the cops to come and get that son of a bitch," he said, pointing through the window at Lomask. "Man, I hope somebody beats the shit out of him in jail. Fucking psychopath."

Kim stared at Malucci's wild eyes and watched him bouncing around on the balls of his feet and realized that something had pushed him way, way over the edge. She glanced over her shoulder, into the exam room and saw Abby watching her, wearing an "I-wanted-to-warn-you" expression. Kim gently took Malucci's arm and led him a few steps away the exam room. He grabbed the chart from Kim's hands and scanned what she'd written.

"Oh, no. You're not admitting him. He's not hiding in some psych ward. That son of a bitch is going to jail," he said.

"Dave, he's a schizophrenic who has been unmedicated for several months. He's experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations and he's --"

"Well what the hell did he expect if he was off his meds?" Malucci said. "I say if you make the decision to stop taking your medication, then suffer the consequences that everybody else suffers, pal."

"Dave, this is a sick man we're talking about here, who has been on his meds for almost twenty years, who had a job and a family --"

"Yeah, until he decided to turn one of his family into a fucking roman candle!" Malucci yelled. "You didn't see her, Dr. Legaspi, you weren't here when they brought that little girl in. She was only eight years old, for Christ's sake! Eight years old! And that fucker doused her in gasoline and lit her like a goddam birthday candle!"

Kim felt the stares of the ER staff weighing on them.

"Do you know what skin looks like after it's been burned like that, huh? Do you?" Malucci was on the verge of tears now and Kim desperately hoped, for his sake, that he didn't actually cry, here, in front of everyone. "I'll tell you it makes it pretty fucking hard to eat those crispy bits of skin off the Thanksgiving turkey." He whipped open Lomask's chart, found the page where Kim had written her orders and ripped the page out. He crumpled it and jammed the wad into his jeans pockets. Kim saw Abby slip out of the exam room as Malucci finished his little tantrum.

"There," he said. "No consult necessary, Dr. Legaspi, you can go back upstairs. And Mr. Lomask can go directly to jail."

Kim sighed. "Dave, I think you've got some conflicts here and I think it would be better if another doctor handled this case, all right?"

Abby's eyes flicked from Kim to Malucci.

"Thanks for the opinion Dr. L., but I'm good. I can give this guy the care he needs." He started to go. Kim reached over and laid a hand on his arm.

"Dave, come on. Don't do this. We can still work this out between us. Just give me the chart and walk away, okay? We can pretend this didn't happen."

Malucci crossed his arms over the chart and looked down his nose at Kim. "Well that's big of you, but I'm the primary physician and I say I'm fine."

Abby started to open her mouth and thought better of it.

Kim rubbed her forehead. "Dave, I know you're upset about this and I'm sorry, but I need you to give me the chart."

"You're not even ER staff."

"No, but you're a resident and I'm an attending. Give me the chart, please."

Abby gave Malucci a look. "Give her the goddam chart, Dave."

Malucci stared them both down and Kim's patience evaporated.

"Dave, don't make me go to Kerry," she said.

"Oh, so that's it, is it? Run and tell your girlfriend when you don't get your way?"

Kim could hear her heart pounding in her ears. "Dr. Malucci, you're out of line. And this is the last time I'm asking. Please give me Mr. Lomask's chart."

Malucci stood there, vibrating with coiled tension, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Abby's face and Kim's.

"You're a good doctor, Dave," Kim said. "And you know this is the right thing."

His face crumpled and for an instant Kim wasn't sure whether he was going to hit her or just stand there and cry. Instead he handed her chart and walked away without a word.

Abby let out her held breath and watched his receding back. "He lost it when they brought that little girl in," Abby said. "It was Luka's case and he finally had to ask Dave to leave because he was just falling apart and getting in the way." She looked down the hallway where he had just disappeared. "Something about it just really hit home, I guess. And the only reason somebody hadn't pulled him off this case is because Luka and Kerry have both been too busy to notice that he had it."

Kim looked at the chart in her hands and wondered what had gone on in Malucci's life to make him this way. "How's the little girl?" she asked.

Abby shrugged. "Alive. But not for much longer." She ran a hand through her hair. "She's up in the burn unit."

Kim closed her eyes and wanted to curse. "Okay," she said, wearily when she had pulled herself back together. "Let's get Mr. Lomask admitted."

Section Five

"Dr. Elliot, please," Kim said, the phone jammed between her neck and shoulder. She wrote down treatment orders for a new admission while she waited for Nancy's office extension to ring.

"Nancy Elliot," a voice said.

"Hey, Nance, it's me, I'm phoning to check up on you. Is this a good time?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm sitting here in my bathing suit with a pina colada, just watching the waves come in."

Kim chuckled. "I meant more like, are you with a patient, but I know it's hard for you to speak two consecutive sentences without being a smartass."

"Hey, how are you, sweetie? You sound worse than me and I'm on medication."

Kim shifted the phone and sat back in her chair until it squeaked dangerously. "I'm fine, just tired, I think. That and I just went ten rounds with a resident who I thought was going to clock me."

"Sounds like a good day."

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" Kim sat up and took the receiver in her hand. "Anyway, I won't keep you long, I just wanted to talk to you, see where you're at."

"I have a 24 hour a day headache from that goddamned Effexor but I might be starting to feel it work. And I slept last night, more than I have in a while."

"Well that's good," Kim said. "How's your mood?"

"I'm still crying a lot. Feeling totally overwhelmed and despondent. But somehow, I'm getting through the day."

Kim drew boxes on a blank notepad. "This is the part where I say that you shouldn't be working, in fact should be taking it easy someplace and you blow me off."

Nancy laughed. "Well, at least we're saving time, aren't we?"

Kim smiled, in spite of herself. "You sound a little better today. Am I off base?"

There was a pause. "Maybe a bit better."

"Okay," Kim said, "well, look, I've got to go. I've got a session in ten minutes but I wanted to confirm that I'm going to see you in person tomorrow around five o'clock."

"I'll be there," Nancy said.

"And Nance?"

"Yeah?"

"Any suicidal thoughts you want to tell me about?"

Kim heard a soft laugh. "None. I told you I'd call if I did."

"Just checking."

"All right, see you tomorrow Kim."

"Say hi to Craig. Bye."

Kim dragged herself up the last flight of stairs and pushed open the heavy metal door to the roof. The air smelled faintly of fall and mainly of city, but she pulled in a lungful as if it was actually fresh. Some days, it just got to her, that pervasive smell of steamed cafeteria meals and disinfectant. This was one of them.

She let the door bang behind her and she stretched her back and neck and looked at the sky. The sun was setting and the clouds were thickening. Rain tonight.

She should be pleased, really, and she knew it. She might very well have just presided at the first breakthrough in communication that had ever happened in the Lynch family. It had been a tense hour with Major Dad sitting ramrod straight in his chair, arms crossed over his barrel of a chest, refusing to speak. But, as she'd suspected, it was actually Mrs. Lynch who made things happen in this family unit -- in quiet and subtle ways, but make them happen she did. As Kim had watched, Michael's mom had worn the old man down like a trickle of water working over a stone face. It took time, but there was a beginning of some sort made before their time had concluded -- at least the expectation that they should all sit down and talk some more. Kim had watched and listened to Mrs. Lynch, whose first name had turned out to be Audrey, and she had thought about the Grand Canyon and how a little bit of force applied over a very long period of time can transform things. Even really big things.

She turned and ambled along the wall towards the side of the building where, on excruciatingly clear February days you could sometimes see the lake, only to find her favourite vantage spot occupied by someone in nurse's scrubs.

"Hey, Dr. Legaspi," Abby said. "I didn't know you came up here."

"Only when I'm thinking of jumping," Kim said and it took Abby a moment to realize she was joking.

Kim leaned her forearms on the wall and looked at the traffic that was knotted into rush hour. Abby held her pack of cigarettes up to Kim.

"No, thanks," Kim said.

"Oh," Abby said, putting them down again. "You don't smoke."

Kim chuckled. "Not today. But ask me again tomorrow."

"Shitty day?"

"A whole run of them, actually."

"Never mind Malucci or what he said about Dr. Weaver," Abby said blowing out a thin stream of smoke. "I don't think he even knew what he was saying."

Kim nodded, watched clouds skidding across the horizon. "He was upset." A thought struck her and she turned to face the tiny nurse. "Abby, do people talk about us? I mean, about Kerry and me? Are we -- I don't know -- still grist for the gossip mill?"

Abby took a drag on her cigarette and cast a glance down at the traffic. "Don't bother yourself with it. People are like that. They talk."

Kim smiled at Abby's discretion. "What do they say when they talk?"

An uninvited smile blossomed on Abby's lips. "Randi thinks you make a cute couple."

Kim laughed out loud and then realized how long it had been since she'd done that. "A cute couple. Well," Kim said. "That's something." She studied the tiny brunette. "Do they say anything else?"

Abby took a final pull on her cigarette and stubbed it out in the cinders. "A lot of the time I just walk away, to be honest. I've got enough on my own plate, I don't need to listen to other people's stuff, you know?" She stuck her hands in the pockets of her smock. "But I can tell you this. Ever since you and Dr. Weaver have gotten together -- I've never seen her happier." She smiled shyly. "You must be good for each other."

Kim stood there turning this over in her mind until her beeper jolted her out of her reverie. She peered at the readout. "Of course, the ER. Haven't been there in, oh, almost an hour."

Abby chuckled and they fell in step as they headed towards the door to the stairs.

Kerry met her a few steps from the elevator. "It's Alice," she said, quickly leading the way to the exam room where the tortured schizophrenic woman waited. "She broke a window at a diner downtown, cut herself pretty badly. One of the cops recognized her from his beat and had them bring her here." Kerry's face was tight with worry. "She's very agitated," she said as she opened the door. "We haven't even been able to get her into restraints."

The door slid open and Kim heard Alice's mournful cries and another, slightly accented voice speaking soothingly. Kim slipped in and walked directly into two large policemen who were blocking the door.

"Excuse me," she said and she pushed her way between them before they could react, only to find Alice, hands dripping with blood, in full psychotic tilt, handcuffed by one arm to a gurney that she was managing to drag around the room, a few feet at a time. Chuny, bless her soul, was staying just out of arm's reach, shadowing her, trying to calm her down and keep her away from trays of instruments and other sorts of projectiles.

A blood pressure cuff flew at the two beefy cops, who ducked a little.

"Who the hell told you to put handcuffs on her?" Kim said, turning slightly to face the cops, while keeping an eye on the woman with the hockey helmet.

"Well, the nurse said she couldn't get the restraints on her, so we thought…."

'You thought," Kim repeated. "Yeah, well, I doubt that. She's a paranoid schizophrenic. Do you have any idea what being handcuffed must do to her?"

Both cops looked at her. "Well, geez, we're sorry, we didn't know."

Kim sighed and pulled herself back to the point. "Well, it's done now, so let's just get her out of the cuffs so we can calm her down."

A pair of bed pans hurtled across the room, slammed into the windows and crashed to the floor.

One of the men was fiddling with a pocket on his belt. "Do you want me to do it?" he asked.

"No," Kim said quickly. "She doesn't know you, it'll just freak her out. Give me the keys, I'll do it."

The two cops glanced at each other, both shrugged, and the cop gave her the keys.

"Can you guys wait outside, please?" Kim said. "The fewer people in here, the better." She waited while the two men exited, then she motioned to Chuny. A cart overturned, skidded along the floor briefly.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Legaspi, they had the handcuffs on her before I could stop them and then I couldn't get close enough to her to get them off."

"It's not your fault, Chuny, Alice is a handful," Kim said. "I'm going to try to get the cuff off her and hopefully she'll calm down a bit. If that doesn't work, we may have to sedate her first and then deal with the cuts."

"Okay," Chuny said, nodding. "What do you want me to do?"

A tray of instruments slammed into the wall above and to the right of Kim's head. Both women winced.

"Five migs of Droperidol and four of lorazipam," Kim said. "We've got to get her off the ceiling."

Chuny slipped out of the room and a moment later, Kerry slipped in. She glanced at Alice who was sobbing violently, saw the handcuff keys in Kim's hand then looked at Kim.

"Are you sure?" Kerry asked.

Kim nodded, her eyes on Alice. "We have to calm her down," she said.

Kerry bit her lip. "Be careful."

Kim smiled a little, never taking her eyes off the woman handcuffed to the bed. "I always am," she said.

Kim took a small step forward. "Alice," she said. gently. "It's Dr. Legaspi. I'm here now, Alice and everything's going to be okay. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

Alice sobbed on, tethered to the rail of the gurney, howling in pain or in shame, Kim wasn't sure which.

She moved very slowly forward. "I need to come over closer to you, Alice because I have the keys to unlock the handcuff. We don't want you handcuffed and I'm going to unlock them, okay?"

"They're going to kill me!" Alice shrieked and Kim saw that she had a bloody handprint on her battered white hockey helmet. "I'm trapped here! I'm trapped! And they're coming!"

Kim made it to the opposite end of the gurney, keys in one hand, the other raised slightly as if to calm the crying woman. "I know you're scared, Alice. I know you're really scared right now. And I want to help you, okay? I want to help to protect you."

Another small step. "Will you let me? Can you let me unlock your handcuff?"

Kim heard the door open and heard the cadence of Chuny's footsteps. She edged towards Alice, saw that she was almost within range of touching the cuffs. And now there were three of them to gently get her into restraints if Kim struck out with this approach.

"Alice," Kim said. "You have to trust me now, okay? I'm going to unlock the handcuff now. And then you and I can talk."

Alice's sobs were leveling out and although she was pulling her body as far away from Kim as she could, Kim thought she could detect the slightest nod. She closed the last bit of distance and grasped the handcuff that held her to the bed. She fiddled with the small keys, glanced at Alice's face again, then down at the lock. How the hell did these things work, anyway?

"Dr. Legaspi!" An urgent young male voice from the door.

Kim lifted her head. And saw the helmet coming at her a moment too late.

She saw stars as she stumbled backwards, bright cartoon stars that rushed towards her. Meteor showers, right there behind her eyelids, which would have been pretty in an odd sort of way, had it not been for the crunching sound her nose had made and the thudding pain in her skull when her head hit the floor.

She was dazed for a moment, the world reduced to a tangle of legs and a crutch, Kerry's voice hollering to Chuny to administer the drugs, Alice screaming and screaming because she didn't like blood, it frightened her and Kim's nose throbbed, tears sprang to her eyes and she decided that she must have one hell of a nosebleed.

And then it was much quieter, Alice having been sedated and laid to rest on the gurney to which she was attached. Kerry and Chuny's faces were hovering over her and Kerry was calling for a stretcher.

"I don't need a stretcher," Kim said and she pulled herself into a sitting position, felt blood start to trickle down over her lips and chin. She tried to look down at herself, saw the dark blots on her blouse and sighed. "Aw, dammit. This one was new."

"Kim, don't move, I need to check you out," Kerry said and in the tiny part of Kim's mind that was still a little stunned from the blow, she wanted to giggle at the fact that she was sitting on the floor of an exam room in the ER, and her lover, the formerly very closeted Kerry Weaver, was running her hands all over her body, checking for injuries.

"Uh, Dr. Legaspi," and it was that boy's voice again.

She looked up and saw one of the newer orderlies from the psych floor with a clipboard and a pen. She looked at him, puzzled.

"I need to get your signature on this," he said and he held the clipboard out towards her.

Kerry pushed him out of the way to look at the back of Kim's head, feel around for a bump.

"What --?" Kim said.

"It's for your patient, Michael Lynch. His parents want to take him out to dinner tonight and they need you to sign the form to let him leave the hospital."

"Jesus Christ," Kerry snapped. "You barged in here to ask her that?" The young man retreated a step or two, alternating between staring at Kim's blood spattered face and watching Kerry cautiously.

Kim sighed and tried to focus on the form in front of her. Two drips of blood landed with a splat on the form before she managed to sign it.

"Here," she said and she handed it back to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled and he disappeared from the room with great speed.

Chuny was suddenly holding ice and she had gauze to soak up the blood still dribbling down Kim's face.

"Okay, let's get a wheelchair, Chuny, and get her to an exam room. I need to do a neurological exam."

Chuny nodded and stood up.

"You are not putting me in a wheelchair, Kerry," Kim said and she struggled to get to her feet.

"Kim, you might have a concussion," Kerry said. "If you're not stable on your feet--"

"Oh for heaven's sake, I have a nosebleed, that's all. I can walk."

Chuny, not forgetting for a moment who ran the ER, waited for the nod from Kerry before they both took hold of Kim's arms and helped her to stand. She swayed for a moment and then righted herself and Kerry could see the shiner already starting to form under her right eye.

"Chuny, would you set her up in Exam 1, please. I'm just going to check Alice's cuts and then call up to psych to have her admitted."

Chuny nodded and took Kim's arm. Kerry watched them walk out of the room, Kim's head tilted at a strange angle, little blots of blood trailing along behind them.

"Kim, you have to have a CT scan. Or at least an x-ray," Kerry said, adjusting the cotton wadding that was stuffed in Kim's nostril.

"No, I don't, Kerry, I told you, it's not broken."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

Kerry gave her a look.

"I do," Kim insisted. "It's my nose. I should know."

"You should still have an x-ray,' Kerry said. "It might be broken."

"It's not broken."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. I broke it when I was in high school. I know what a broken nose feels like and this isn't broken."

Kerry lifted Kim's hand which held the ice pack, peeked at the swelling and regarded her beautiful partner with a half smile. "High school, huh? How did you do that?"

"Playing field hockey," Kim said, somewhat reluctantly.

Kerry's eyebrows shot up. "You played field hockey?"

"Yes -- and why do you say it like that? What's wrong with field hockey?"

Kerry blinked. "Well, nothing, I suppose. It's just that it sounds…well, a little barbaric."

Kim gave her a half-hearted glare. "I was pretty good at it, actually."

Kerry nodded. "Except for the broken nose?"

"That wasn't my fault."

"I see."

"It wasn't. It was Mary Ellen Giamaria's fault. She played defense for St. Anthony's and in the last game of the season in my junior year, I was setting up to take a shot which very likely would have been the winning goal of the game and she swung her hockey stick at me."

Kerry looked at Kim, her mouth slightly open. "She just swung it at you?"

Kim nodded.

"At your face? She swung her hockey stick at your face?"

Kim sighed. "She was pretty competitive."

Kerry stared at the blonde woman with the ice pack on her face, struggling to find something to say about the incident that didn't involve repeating the word barbaric. She couldn't, so she retreated to familiar ground.

"I think you should go home," Kerry said. "Your shift is almost over."

"Carl's already been down to talk to me," Kim said, "so save your breath. I'm not going to see patients for the rest of the day. But I am really backlogged on paperwork, so I think I'll spend some time digging out from that." Kerry's look was one of concern. "Really, I'm okay, Ker. I promise," she said. "Nothing that some Advil won't take care of."

"You're going to have a shiner you know," Kerry said.

Kim touched her cheekbone gingerly and winced. "Yeah, I thought I might." She replaced the ice bag. "Any word on Alice?"

"Carl took care of everything," Kerry said. "She's been admitted and Carter sewed up her cuts. They weren't too bad."

Kim nodded but Kerry saw the sadness creeping into her eyes.

"Go home," Kerry said again.

Kim shook her head. "But can I keep the ice pack for a while?"

Kerry chuckled. "It's yours."

The Advil had helped with the headache at least and if she sat very still and didn't move her head around too much, she almost felt normal.

For a while, anyway.

She leaned her head back against the wall and stretched her long legs out before her, crossing them at the ankles. The bump on the back of her head was mercifully small and the ice had kept the worst of the swelling down and, as for the black eye, it added character, she thought.

She sighed and decided to stop trying to talk herself out of the pain. When she was done here, she'd call Kerry and ask her to bring home some Tylenol 3's so that she could get some sleep tonight.

The gleaming door at the end of the waiting room opened and Charlotte emerged. "Mon Dieu et tous les saints!" she gasped when she saw Kim. "What on earth happened to you, chérie?"

Kim rose and tried to smile. "An unfortunate bit of timing with a patient." She shrugged self-consciously. "I'm okay. It looks worse than it is."

Charlotte's sharp gaze pinned her in place for a moment and Kim knew that she wasn't buying any of it.

"I have the thing," the little woman said and she turned on her heel and strode into her office, Kim following along, closing the door. Charlotte opened a cupboard that revealed an impressive little bar and in a moment, she was handing Kim a glass of Campari on ice and ushering her into the comfortable wingback chair. Charlotte sat herself down on the edge of the sofa, took a healthy draft of her drink and then fixed her eyes on Kim again.

"You are in pain?"

"A little," Kim said. "I'm going to take something for it when I get home."

A pause while Charlotte studied her. "And yet, still you come to me today. The things we discuss, they are very important to you, are they not?"

Kim's brow wrinkled in thought and she immediately winced. "I guess they are," she said finally. "I never even considered not coming."

A nod and Charlotte smoothed her skirt. "Because still you are worried that you are helping no one. That your efforts are in vain." She leaned forward and smiled slyly at her. "That perhaps there is no healing."

Kim's grip tightened on her glass at Charlotte's last sentence. "I don't want to think that, Charlotte. I don't know how I would go on if I didn't think that it was at least possible to --"

"Chérie, what is it that your patients want from you?"

Kim screeched to a halt. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Ah, but that is the thing, is it not? How often to do we stop to ask ourselves what our patients want?"

Kim looked at the small woman, sitting there on her sofa smiling like some sort of French Cheshire cat and she wondered why she had come, after all. "They want to get better," she said, after a moment. "They want to stop suffering. They want to be healed, to be whole again."

"And you, the priestess of the Great God Pharmaceutica, you can give them that?"

Kim hesitated. "Well, no," she said. "I mean, yes, I can, sometimes. Sometimes I can prescribe drugs that can help them, but that's not all I do. I talk to them and listen to them, I organize support for them outside of the hospital." Kim's voice trailed off.

"But do you really hear what they are asking you for?"

Kim stared at the older woman, a questioning look on her face.

Charlotte took a sip of the bright red Campari and sat back a little. "It is so easy, you know, to be a doctor of the ER. You come in and you say to the patient, 'What can I do for you?' The patient is holding his arm, which is bleeding and the patient says, 'My arm is bleeding and it hurts. Please fix this and make me feel better.'" Charlotte leaned forward, arms on her tiny knees. "And so it is clear what is the mandate, is it not? Clean up the wound, disinfect it, bandage it and manage the pain. So simple. So straightforward." Her eyes burned into Kim's. "But in psychiatry, it is not so simple or straightforward."

Kim sipped her drink and considered what Charlotte had said. "Maybe not."

"In psychiatry, we must listen to the patient with our eyes and with our hearts, as I told you last week. Especially with our hearts. And only then will the patient tell you what they want. What they need."

Charlotte leaned back again, considered her drink and smiled a nurturing, motherly smile at Kim. "I will demonstrate this important technique now, by asking you, Kim,…what is it that you want? What is it that you need?"

Kim sat motionless in the big wingback chair, her own voice echoing hollowly in side of her. Tears were a breath away when she spoke. "I don't know anymore, Charlotte."

Charlotte studied her face some more and Kim thought she saw a slight softening.

"Eh, bien," Charlotte said. "I will ask another question. Your last relationship, the one before the beautiful and talented ER doctor, how long did it last?"

Kim blinked, her head almost spinning from the change in direction. "Uh, almost two years, I think."

"And the one before her?"

Kim eyed her carefully. "A year and a half, but we didn't break up because of --"

Charlotte held up a tiny hand to silence her. "It is no difference why you parted. I am interested in, shall we say, the life span of the relationships." She quizzed her all the way back to her first year in college when she'd had her first sexual encounter with a woman. The longest was just over two years.

"Why are you asking me this, Charlotte? I don't see why this is relevant," Kim said.

"It is not only relevant, chérie, it is the point. Do you not see how you are running away, time after time, fleeing some intimacy that scares you?"

Kim's grip on her drink tightened and she sat up straighter. "Charlotte, that's not true -- you know that I'm not afraid of intimacy. And anyway, we're talking about six or seven different relationships here. The dynamics in each of them was different."

"Ah, but you were always the same."

Kim stared at her and tried to process her words. Was there some door deep within herself that she was trying to avoid opening? Some fear that she wasn't ready to drag into the light of day?

Why had she been thinking so much about losing Kerry lately?

She leveled Charlotte in her sights. "You think I'm going to do it again. You think I'm going to run away from Kerry like I've run away from all the others."

Charlotte's gaze fell coyly to her drink for a moment. "I am not a psychic, chérie. I do not predict the future." She took a ladylike sip of her Campari. "I am rather more an archaeologist, who sifts through the past and tries to learn."

Kim blew out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize my relationship with Kerry," she said. "She's different. She's…she's my soul mate." Kim suddenly shook her head fiercely, which made her nose and forehead throb a little. "And anyway, I didn't come to see you about Kerry, Charlotte. That's not the problem. I came to see you about work, about the sense of futility that I have."

"You worry that you are helping no one," Charlotte said, "that there is no healing."

Kim nodded.

"I remember we had this conversation not long before you finished your residency, do you recall?"

Kim nodded. "I felt so overwhelmed. I was near the end of my formal training, yet I didn't feel that I'd really learned enough to be able to practice unsupervised." She shook her head at the memory. "And I'd had some runs of pretty hard patients. Some people who were very sick."

"And do you recall what I said at the time?" Charlotte asked.

Kim chuckled. As if she could forget a single word that this formidable woman ever uttered. "You said that we all had to just do the best we could and try to live to see another day so that we could help a little more."

Charlotte nodded, a pleased smiled in place. "I am encouraged that you remember, but I wonder why you have only learned half of what I said."

Kim started to replay the words in her head, searching for the answer to this newest riddle, but Charlotte was going on.

"Healing is not ours to give, Kim," she said. "It is not some sleight of hand we perform, not some great favour we bestow. Healing can only come from God."

Kim's smile was weary. "And what if you don't believe in God?"

"Oh, that does not bother God very much," the little woman said with a mischievous smile. "He can still use you quite capably to His ends."

Kim ran a hand across her forehead. "Charlotte, I don't know if that --"

"You have always had such a light in you, Kim," Charlotte said and she was looking at Kim with such intensity that Kim wanted to squirm in her chair. "The first time you came through that door, so many years ago, I saw it. And I knew that you would be a brilliant psychiatrist, the very best kind of psychiatrist, if you simply nurtured and protected that light. If you didn't let it grow dim."

Kim's protest died slowly on her lips and she found herself searching the recesses of her mind for an association, some link that was just outside the illuminated circle.

"It's that light that attracts people to you, especially those who are ill or who are suffering. It's that light that lets you calm them by your simple presence." Kim thought suddenly of Kerry, sitting with that old woman last week, the one from Zimbabwe and they had both glowed, somehow. Kerry had that light too, Kim thought and suddenly it clicked into place, the darkness cleared in her head. Kerry had it too and it made her a great doctor. It also made her so attractive, so charismatic, so… desirable. It was also what had made Kim go out of her way to spend time in the ER and engineer ways to bump into her, meet up with her, just spend time in her presence. Kim had been drawn to Kerry in a way she hadn't ever been able to describe.

"You can call it God, or chi, or life force or electromagnetic energy or any damned thing you like," Charlotte said. "But it shines in you, chérie, and whether it was a gift from the fates or simply a happy connection of genes, you must take care of it."

Kim felt the hot tears rise in the back of her throat and she had to take a breath to steady her voice. "But that's just the problem, Charlotte," she said. "I'm the one with this light. I'm the one who's supposed to be strong, who's supposed to help everyone else heal." She struggled and a fat tear escaped her blackened eye.

Charlotte smiled a sympathetic smile at her and reached over and touched her leg. "What is that expression they say?" She searched for a moment and then nodded. "Old habits, they die hard, no?"

Kim chuckled through her tears.

Apparently they did.

Kerry made her way through the kitchen towards the living room, following the thin sound of television laughter. The lights were off and the room glowed a flickering blue. Kim was lying on the couch, her head propped up by several pillows, a facecloth draped over her eyes.

"Hey," Kerry said softly, approaching the sofa.

"Oh, hey," Kim said, pulling the facecloth off and sitting up. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"I was quiet," Kerry said, seating herself on the edge of the coffee table. "I thought you might be asleep."

Kim shook her head. "No. Although I remember now why I never watch television."

"How does your face feel?" Kerry asked, studying the swelling and bruising.

Kim shrugged. "It's kind of sore, but it's manageable." She reached out and took Kerry's hand. "How was the rest of your shift?"

"All right," Kerry replied. "But really busy. I never had a chance to stop for any supper and I'm starving." Kerry ran a hand through Kim's hair, tucked the out of control curls back behind one ear. "I wondered if you'd maybe want to order a pizza. We could called Freddy's and get that vegetarian one you like with artichokes and everything. What do you think?"

Kim smiled and studied Kerry's earnest green eyes. "That sounds great," she said.

Kerry nodded and got up to look for the portable phone. "Oh," she said, "I brought you some Tylenol 3's for the pain. They're in my coat. I'll bring you them in a minute."

Kim watched Kerry crutch her way into the kitchen, yellow pages in one hand, phone under her arm and she called out, "Hey, Ker?"

Kerry turned, a question on her face.

"You're not hungry at all, are you? This is really about the fact that I didn't have any dinner," Kim said, with a smile. "Right?"

Kerry pursed her lips and tried not to look guilty while she thought. "No," she said, "I am a little hungry." She disappeared to get Kim's painkillers.

Kim laid back in the pillows and wondered why she suddenly felt like crying.

By the time she'd gotten to the hospital the next morning, Kim had quickly discovered that the world was made up of two categories -- the whisperers and the gawkers. You encountered the whisperers most often in elevators or at pedestrian cross walks, or at the newsstand. They would look, look again with wide eyes and then pretend never to have looked at all by burying their face in their newspaper or their briefcase, all the while trying to quietly get the attention of their companions so that they could point out the woman with the black eye and slightly swollen nose.

She'd heard "Why doesn't she just leave him?" whispered more than once as she'd passed by.

Truth be told, the gawkers were easier to manage. Except for the young man at her regular Starbucks who, until today, upon seeing her come through the door would always shout out "Double tall non fat vanilla latte for the shrink!" This morning, he'd taken one look at her discoloured eye and swollen nose and gaped. Four tries later he still couldn't record Kim's order in the cash register and she was considering coming around and helping him with the buttons.

Other than that, she'd coped. People generally gave her a wide berth on the ward and no one was even stopping her to ask what had happened, which confirmed what she thought about the hospital grapevine -- it moved much faster than the elevators.

She keyed her way into the locked ward and there was Ben, sitting at the nurse's desk, his hands folded behind his head, grinning at her.

"Don't even," she said, and she put down the small CD player she held and picked up the sign-in clipboard.

"I didn't say a thing," he said, eyes wide with feigned innocence. "You here to see Alice?"

"Yeah," Kim said, looking up. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I just wondered if you were looking for a shiner on the other side, you know to balance it out." A grin escaped him and the quickly tamped it down again.

Kim tossed the pen onto the counter and collected her CD player. "What a funny guy," she said with a sharp smile.

"Aw, I'm just kidding you, doc. I think it makes you look dangerous."

Kim stopped outside of Alice's door and waited for Ben to unlock it. "Yeah that was just the look I was going for," she said. "Dangerous."

Alice's room was still and at first Kim thought she might be awake, but then she noticed her eyes: dull, fixed, staring. A pang of sadness ripped through her and Kim moved closer, pulled the only chair in the room near to Alice's bedside and sat down.

"Alice," she said softly and there was no change in the lifeless eyes. "Alice, it's Dr. Legaspi. I'm here with you."

Kim reached out and touched Alice's hand which had been bound by a wide leather restraint to the side of the bed. Her hand was cool and remarkably soft for someone who lived outdoors as much as she did. Kim looked down at Alice's hand. It was a muscular, disciplined hand and Kim could imagine it holding a bow or dancing delicately up and down the neck of a cello.

"Alice, I brought something for you," Kim said quietly. "Something for you to listen to." She put the small CD player down on the floor near Alice's bed and plugged it in, then pressed play. A faint hiss and suddenly the room was infused with the sound of a solitary cello, mournful and joyous, exalting and despairing.

"It's Bach's Six Suites for Solo Cello," Kim said, glancing at the jewel case. "And the cellist is Yo-Yo Ma." She glanced over at the prone woman and chuckled self-consiously. "But I bet you already knew that, didn't you?"

Kim sat back down on the small wooden chair, leaned her elbows on Alice's bed, and let herself be transported by the music. When the prelude to the first suite ended, Kim opened her eyes and looked at Alice. The woman's eyes had relaxed somehow and she blinked lazily from time to time, nodding her head oh so slightly as she conducted the music.

Kim smiled and sat back in her chair.

"Dr. Legaspi, they need you in the ER," the voice on the telephone said.

Kim peered at her beeper. "Nobody paged me," she said.

"I realize that, but there's some sort of mix-up going on down there and there's no one else who can go."

Kim's brow furrowed. "Well of course not, I'm the one who's supposed to be covering the ER."

A sigh on the other end and Kim decided there was no need to shoot the messenger. "Okay, thanks, I'm on my way."

She was there in less than two minutes, having cruised onto an elevator right away. She headed straight for the admit desk to find out what was going on.

"Randi, did you page psych for something?" she asked as soon as she could catch her eye.

"Oh, geez. Dr. Legaspi," Randi said and she stared at Kim.

Kim ducked her head a little to prompt a response from the desk clerk. "Yeah, hi. Did you try to page me?"

"You know, I have some foundation and concealer in the lounge," Randi said. "I could fix that right up for you." She chewed and snapped. "Or at least, you know, disguise it a little bit."

Kim shook her head. "No, that's fine, Randi, thanks anyway." She put her clipboard down on the counter and leaned both elbows on it. "Was I or was I not supposed to be paged?"

Randi continued to stare, a little distracted by the ringing phone she wasn't picking up. "Yes," she said.

"Yes?" Kim repeated. "Yes what?"

Deer in the headlights and Kim could see her thinking furiously.

"Randi," she said and it was subtly threatening.

"You weren't supposed to be paged but apparently you're here." She handed her a chart.

"Why wasn't I supposed to be paged? I'm covering the ER today." Kim said.

Randi threw up her hands and started backing away. "I was just taking orders," she said, "I do as I'm told. And anyway, I'm not getting in the middle of this. Ask her."

Randi fled before Kim could ask who 'her' was, but judging by the desk clerk's reaction, there wasn't really any need to ask. Kim scooped up the chart and her clipboard and set off to find Kerry.

"Mrs. Einhorn, I'm finding it hard to believe that your injuries are a result of falling down the stairs," Kim said, gently.

Mrs. Einhorn, a woman in her early thirties, sat there on the edge of the bed, wearing a hospital gown, trying not to tremble.

"It's especially hard to believe when I see that you've been treated no less than six times in the past year at this hospital and two others for injuries just like this." Kim looked at her, tried to draw those haunted eyes out. "Can you see why I find it hard to believe?"

She nodded abruptly and forced herself to laugh a little. "Well, Rob does say that I'm so clumsy," she said. "I guess he's right."

Kim sat there looking at the woman and trying not to shake her head. There had to be something that would shake her out of this. At least she'd figured out why Kerry hadn't wanted to pass this case to her, not after last week's series of tragic events. But why did ER Chief Weaver's policy of 'get-back-up-on-that-horse' not apply to her, she wondered? She'd wanted to ask her, had planned on pinning her to a wall actually, but Kerry had been up to her elbows, quite literally, in a trauma and Kim hadn't wanted to interrupt.

Abby sailed in just then and looked at Kim with a question in her eyes. "You wanted me, Dr. Legaspi?"

Kim smiled and indicated the small boy who was playing with a stethoscope on the floor, pressing the diaphragm to the bed, the wall, Kim's leg.

"Abby, this is Andrew and I wondered if he could spend some time with you while his mom and I talked."

Abby's eyes slid over his mother's injuries and to the fair haired child on the floor. "Sure he can," she said. She walked over and crouched down. "Hi, Andrew, I'm Abby."

He regarded her stoically, then nodded. "Hi."

"I have some cookies and juice in the lounge. Would you like to have some?"

Another skeptical look. "What kind of cookies?"

Abby chuckled. "I think they're chocolate chip."

A short period of consideration, then another nod. "Okay."

He took Abby's hand and left with her, giving his mom a little wave as he went.

"He's a great kid," Abby said. "Is he in school yet?"

"He just started this fall," she said. "He loves it. He's drawing and painting and he wants to learn to read in the worst way."

Kim smiled along with her for a moment.

"Have they given you anything for the pain yet?" she asked.

The woman shook her head. "They were starting to, but the doctor who saw me, the one with the red hair, she got called away for an emergency."

Kim skimmed the chart, saw what Kerry had ordered. "I can go get that for you," she said, but before she could get to her feet she sighed. "You know there are lots of places you could go," Kim said. "Places with good security, who take great care of kids." She watched Mrs. Einhorn's face and waited.

Her expression dissolved and the tears began to flow. "It's no good," she said. "It's no good."

"Why is it no good?" Kim asked.

The woman pulled herself together and met Kim's gaze. "He'd find us," she said.

"A lot of shelters can help you to move right across the country if you want to, they can help you set up a new life, where no one can hurt you again."

The woman laughed but there was no joy in it. She swiped at her tears. "You don't know him," she said to Kim. "You don't know him. He'd find us."

Kim pursed her lips and wanted to sigh.

"I know he's threatened you. He's probably told you that if you leave him, he'll track you down wherever you go. Or maybe he's threatened to take Andrew from you. But the only real power he has Mrs. Einhorn, is the power you give him by staying."

The woman studied Kim's face, her eyes drawn to Kim's bruises and swollen nose. "God, you know, don't you?"

Kim cocked her head. "Beg your pardon?"

"I mean, did somebody --?" She pointed at Kim's face.

Kim shook her head. "No, I just had an accident," she said. "But I talk to an awful lot of women who are in your position."

The woman was just opening her mouth to say something when the door to the exam room opened and a tall, athletic looking man strode in.

"Gloria, honey, how are you doing?" he asked and he quickly moved to Mrs. Einhorn's side, slinging and arm around her.

The woman winced and said, "Rob, I don't think you're supposed to be back here, the doctor said that --"

"Nonsense," he said and he dropped a kiss on the side of her head, keeping a tight grip on his wife's shoulders. "There are lots of family members in these other rooms and I was going out of my mind out there, not knowing how you were?" He glanced at her. "They haven't stitched you up, yet, have they? Have they given you something for the pain at least? What about Andrew? Where is --"

"You're hurting your wife," Kim said and her voice sounded loud and sharp even to her own ears.

Rob Einhorn looked at her and from his expression, Kim gathered that he wasn't used to being spoken to like that. Kim indicated his arm on her shoulders.

"She was a possible dislocation and some cracked ribs. You're hurting her with your arm, Mr. Einhorn," Kim said.

"Oh," he said and he removed his arm quickly.

"Andrew is with a nurse, having a snack. He's fine," Kim said.

"Jesus, looks like somebody cracked you a good one, " he said to Kim, "Are you the doctor? Why aren't you stitching her up? She's got a bad cut on her arm, did you see it?"

Kim nodded. "I saw it. And we're doing everything we can for your wife. Now if you'll just go and take a seat in chairs, I'm sure that you--"

He crossed his arms. "I'm staying right here to make sure that my wife gets the care that she deserves."

Gloria Einhorn sat mutely on the bed and silently pleaded with Kim.

Kim stood up and out of reflex, Rob Einhorn also got to his feet.

"Listen, Mr. Einhorn," she said, pleasantly, taking his arm and leading him a few feet away. "I just need a few more minutes with your wife and then I'm going to personally see that she gets the medical treatment she needs." Kim opened the door and ferried him through it. "You have a seat in chairs and we will call you as soon as she's comfortable, okay?"

Something in his eyes shifted as Kim watched, realizing she'd very gently just put him in the hallway. "Wait a minute, I have a right to --"

"You don't have a right to anything right now, Mr. Einhorn," Kim said and her voice was low and reigned in.

"You're not even a fucking doctor, are you?" the man said, his voice beginning to rise. "You're one of those social workers, that's why you don't have a white coat. What the hell are you telling my wife in there?" He started to put a hand on Kim's shoulder to pull her out of his way. Kim blocked his hand.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Einhorn," Kim said. "I am a doctor. In fact, I'm the kind of doctor who can lock your ass up in a psych ward for three days because you presented a threat to another person. So if you're smart, although I doubt that you are, you'll be very careful about whom you threaten." She pulled in a breath and her voice lowered so that only he could hear. "Furthermore, you pathetic son of a bitch, please put your hand on me one more time, because I'm just dying to call security and I only need you to give me one more reason."

Rob Einhorn held her gaze for as long as he dared, then thought better of it and backed up a half step, glancing around to see who might have heard and taking on the appearance of a man who had just had a friendly tête-à-tête with his wife's doctor.

"All right," he said in a casual and friendly way. "I'll just go have a seat in the waiting room and wait for Gloria." He turned and ambled along down the hallways towards chairs.

Kim slipped back into the exam room to see Gloria Einhorn's eyes wide with more emotions that Kim could discern.

Kim stopped in the doorway, still shaking from the adrenaline rush and tried to smile at the woman. "I'm just going to go get that painkiller for you, okay?"

Gloria nodded but there was something hanging there, waiting. Kim urged her on with her eyes.

"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked.

Kim let the door slide shut and she came to the foot of the bed. "Because it's my job. Because I want to try to help people who are in trouble."

Gloria Einhorn nodded blankly, but knew that wasn't it.

Kim smiled sadly. "And because last week I met a woman just like you, with three kids and a husband who beat her. And I told her one day he was going to kill her if she didn't get out."

Fear descended like a curtain on the woman's face. "Did he?"

Kim nodded. "That same day, he beat her to death with a baseball bat."

Gloria fiddled with her nails, looked down at her hands. "That's so sad."

"No, that's pathetic," Kim said, "and there's a difference. It was pathetic because she could've tried to help herself, to help her children and she didn't. Or couldn't. But what's sad, what's heart-wrenching actually is that she didn't help her three kids. Now they have no mother and in all likelihood, they watched her die."

Gloria Einhorn was stricken now, hands over her mouth, tears hovering in her eyes in great pools.

Kim felt exhausted suddenly and the headache that had required Tylenol 3's to quell was inching its way back. "I'll go find Dr. Weaver so that you can get some painkillers and she can get you stitched up and everything. We can talk some more later, if you want."

Gloria Einhorn watched Kim leave and then she started to sob.

"Here you are," Kerry said, pushing her way through the door and into the lounge. "Randi said you wanted to talk to me. Do you want some coffee?

"Not from that pot," Kim said, not lifting her eyes from her work.

Kerry glanced back at her while she poured herself a cup. "So how did you do it?"

"How did I do what?"

"Convince Mrs. Einhorn to press charges." Kerry poured milk into her coffee and searched around for a clean spoon.

"I just told her what my experience with battered women was," Kim said. "I guess she found that pretty persuasive." Kim looked up at the tiny redhead who was navigating the maze of furniture. "That and I was willing to do almost anything to have the satisfaction of watching that bastard hauled out of here in handcuffs."

Kerry watched Kim's expression carefully. "So why are you still down here?"

Kim put her pen down on the stack of forms neatly spread out in front of her. "I thought since I was covering the ER, I should stay really close in case you need me," Kim said, crossing her arms and giving Kerry a cool look. "Since my pager obviously isn't working."

Kerry flopped down on a chair close to Kim and cursed. "That Randi has the biggest mouth of anyone I've--!"

"She didn't tell me," Kim said. "I figured it out myself, actually." She sighed. "Why did you do that, Kerry? Why did you try to shift me away from this case just because it was a domestic abuse situation? Do you have that little faith in my abilities?"

Kerry sat up quickly. "Whoa, wait a minute. This had nothing to do with your abilities, Kim. You are an exceptional psychiatrist --"

"So why try to divert me from the case?" Kim asked.

"I was just giving you one case off, call it a break if you want --"

Kim leaned forward. "Kerry, don't give me that bullshit, okay? If I had been anybody else, you would have moved heaven and earth to make sure I got that case so that I didn't get too soft about handling them. I've heard you say it a thousand times to residents, 'Get back in there and take care of your patient.'"

"And that's exactly what you did. You managed to convince her to accept help and you may have, in a very real way, saved her life."

"But what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know there's something else here, Kerry."

Kerry sighed and ran a hand over the tabletop. "It's just that -- in your work, in the kinds of cases that you see, you become so personally involved with your patients--"

Kim threw up her hands. "Don't lecture me on the dangers of getting personal with patients, Kerry, because you don't know--"

"That's not what I was saying," Kerry said and Kim realized that Kerry's eyes were wide and she almost looked afraid to speak.

Kim reigned herself in. "What are you saying then?"

"I've come to understand that that's how you need to do your job, to be effective," Kerry said. "What I'm worried about is the toll it takes on you." She waved a hand at her. "I mean look at you, you're exhausted, you're bruised and you're so…full of sadness these days."

"Nevertheless, I'm still a regular attending at Cook County Hospital and it's not a good idea for you to treat me differently," Kim said, her anger dissipating. "And anyway, I don't need you to protect me, Kerry,

Kerry watched her for a few seconds before she finally spoke. "Sometimes I think you don't need me at all," she said.

Kim looked at her, momentarily speechless. "How can you say that?" she asked and her voice was tiny and lost.

Kerry looked at the floor, then met her gaze again. "Why do you always make it so hard to give you anything?"

The door to the lounge banged open and Abby's head popped in. "Sorry to disturb you Dr. Weaver but we've got three GSW's coming in, sounds like a gang fight. They're two minutes out."

Kerry was on her feet immediately. "Prep the two trauma rooms and exam room two. Page Dr. Corday, she's on call for surgical, I think. Alert Carter and Luka and then call security, I don't want a bunch of bangers coming here to finish the fight."

Abby disappeared.

"Kim," Kerry said and there was such apology in her voice, "I didn't mean to--"

Kim waved her off. "Go, you have three traumas arriving, go!"

Kerry sighed, obviously torn, then said, "We'll talk later, okay?"

Kim nodded and motioned for her to get moving. "Okay."

Kerry rushed away and disappeared into the hallway, the bright lights making her hair glow an ethereal shade of gold and red for just a moment. Kim sat in her chair, without moving, until she could hear the sounds of sirens in the ambulance bay and Kerry's voice shouting orders over the noise.

A quiet tapping on the office door that she'd left partly open. Kim looked up from where she sat on the floor. Michael shyly pushed the door all the way open and peeked inside to see Kim sitting in a yoga-like position in front of a dozen or so stacks of papers and forms. He raised his eyebrows in a question.

"I'm playing administrative solitaire," Kim said, with a smile as she got to her feet. "I'd lost control of the paperwork so I'm trying to sort it into some kind of system. Come on in. It's okay, I won't bite."

Michael stepped in and stood there, backpack slung over his shoulder, anxiously moving from one foot to the other. Kim faced him and smiled.

"So," she said. "Big day today."

He nodded. "My mom and dad are coming to pick me up in about fifteen minutes. I'm a little….wired."

Kim nodded. "And dinner went well last night."

He waggled his hand back and forth. "It was tense, but it could have been a lot worse." He gauged Kim's reaction. "I mean, you've gotten to know my father."

"But it was all right, overall?

"Yeah," he said. "And in a way, I'm kind of glad that they're going to stick around for a few days while I get settled back in." He smile sheepishly. "My mom is really helping a lot. It's good to talk with her."

Kim nodded. "That's great," she said. "This morning, I spoke with Dan, you know, the therapist I referred you to? You've got an appointment at one o'clock tomorrow with him." She saw the flicker of fear. "He's a great guy, Michael, don't worry. You've done much harder stuff already -- seeing him will be easy."

Michael nodded, eyes wide, clearly wanting to believe her.

"And listen," Kim said, "if there's anything you need, anything you want to talk about, if you just feel yourself starting to get into trouble, you just call me, okay?" She snatched one of her cards from her desk top and handed it to him.

He took it and held it in both hands, studying it intently, then he raised his eyes. "Thanks a lot, Dr. Legaspi. For everything," he said. "I -- you've done so much for me. I don't know if I can thank you enough."

Kim smiled then reached over squeezed his shoulder. "You being happy and well is lot of thanks for me, Michael."

He nodded again, then tucked her card carefully into his shirt pocket and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself," Kim said.

"You too," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Take care of that eye."

Kim chuckled. "I will," she said and he was gone.

Kim was on the phone when she spotted Nancy's face at the door. She waved her in with a welcoming smile, never missing a beat of her phone conversation.

"Well, that's my point, Bob. These people are institutionalized schizophrenics. If we start rescheduling their social skills group every other day, it's going to mess them up. They need the structure of knowing that on Wednesdays as 2:00 p.m., they'll be in the lounge, learning social skills."

Nancy wandered in, noting the neat piles of forms placed all around on the floor. She took off her long black trench coat and shook the water off it, then ambled around the room, looking at Kim's things, running a hand across a surface, stopping to stare at a photograph as if she were trying to commit it to memory. Kim watched her with one eye while listening to the man on the other end of the phone blather on.

"No, Bob, see, that's where the problem is -- we need to do this centrally. Some system where we all have equal access to sign up for places and --" She listened for a moment with an annoyed look on her face. "No, I don't think we need Carl to referee, Bob, for crying out loud, we're not only professionals, we're supposed to be grown-ups."

Her eyes flicked up at Nancy who was standing in front of the window, looking out at the rain. "Listen, Bob, I'm going to have to call you back, okay, I've got an appointment."

A moment later she was off the phone and standing up to greet Nancy. "You're early," Kim said, moving to the couch where she gratefully flopped down.

"Yeah, a little, I hope that's not a problem," Nancy said. "I have another appointment in about a half hour, but I wanted to check in with you first."

"You look good today," Kim said, taking in the calm demeanour. "Wet, but good."

Nancy snorted. "Yeah, it's a little damp out," she said.

"So, how are you doing?" Kim asked.

Nancy drew in a long breath and sighed. "A little better, I think. A little calmer. I think the meds are just starting to work."

Kim nodded. "Some people can start to feel these new ones in about a week."

"And I'm sleeping better, which is really helping," Nancy said. "It's letting me just see things more clearly, you know?"

Kim nodded. "Any suicidal thoughts? Preoccupation with death?"

Nancy shook her head. "I might kill Craig if he doesn't stop haranguing me about taking my meds on time, but no, no thoughts of killing myself."

Kim studied her friend for a moment. "You need to remember, Nance, that these drugs are just beginning to get a toehold in that twisted brain of yours. You're far from out of the woods, you realize that, don't you?"

Nancy nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I know. But I guess these past couple of days I've just realized that at some point, things are going to be okay."

Kim's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but you are not to resume your full work load or anything ridiculous like that. Depressions are not healed in fast forward, Nance, you know that. They're painfully slow to resolve themselves."

Nancy smiled. "Painfully slow," she said. "That pretty much covers it, doesn't it?"

Kim nodded sympathetically. "Hey, listen, I was thinking that maybe next weekend, I could take you out for a movie and then coffee and dessert at one of those European pastry places you like. You can pick the movie, as I'm told my taste is, and I'm quoting here, puerile."

Nancy laughed a little. "That sounds great, Kim. I would love that." She got to her feet and adjusted her skirt and jacket. "Are you this good to all your patients?"

Kim shook her head. "Nah. I don't usually let them pick the movie."

Nancy chuckled and reached for her coat. "I really owe you for this, Kim," she said, shrugging it on. "You're -- well, you're amazing."

Kim got up and walked slowly to the door with her. "You deserve nothing but the best, Nance," she said.

Nancy paused and looked back at Kim as if she was considering that thought. "I'm not sure I deserve you." She kissed Kim's cheek and gave her a long, warm hug. "But I do know, you've been a wonderful friend, Kim."

Kim held onto Nancy's hands a moment longer than necessary. "Take care of yourself, okay? This is a tough part, this coming up from the bottom of a depression, so be gentle with yourself."

Nancy nodded, gravely.

"See you at five tomorrow," Kim said.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Nancy replied and she strode away, checking her watch as she went.

Kim saw her from the end of the hall, her fiery red head bent over a chart, no doubt writing orders in her precise, fluid script. Kim greeted a nurse or two on her way past the exam rooms, then sidled up to the admit desk across from where Kerry worked.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, yourself," Kerry said, looking up over her glasses at Kim. "I thought you might have left already."

"No, but my shift is over and I'm starving," Kim said. "I was hoping that I could talk you into some dinner when you're done."

Kerry took off her glasses and studied Kim's face. "Dinner would be marvelous. Have you got something in mind?"

Kim shook her head. "I'm open to nearly anything. So long as we have it together."

Kerry's expression turned analytical and she regarded Kim for a long moment.

"What?" Kim finally said.

"I thought we were still fighting," Kerry said. "I hadn't realized we'd gotten over our conversation in the lounge."

"Oh, yeah," Kim said. "We're way over it. Especially since I decided one of us was taking everything a little too personally and acting like an ass."

Kerry's eyebrows rose. "And that person would be…me?"

Kim shook her head. "No, me. I owe you an apology, Ker. Just because I disagree with something you do as Chief of ER doesn't mean I have to drag it into the forum of our personal life. I acted like a self-centered adolescent and I'm sorry."

"I see," Kerry said, shifting her weight and repositioning her crutch. "So, would it matter to tell you that after some thought and especially after hearing what you had to say to me earlier, that I've decided that I was wrong in steering you away from the domestic abuse case and that I was treating you like my girlfriend and not the very capable psych attending that you are?"

Kim chuckled. "So, we were both right and we were both wrong."

Kerry considered this. "That pretty much covers it."

"Well," Kim said, "all that's left is to decide who's paying for dinner?"

Kerry opened her mouth to put in her two cents, when Haleh pulled up beside her and interrupted.

"We've got a single vehicle MVA on the Ryan coming in," she said. "Do you want me to page Luka?"

"No," Kerry said, "he's having a dinner break, leave him alone. I'll take it."

"Okay," Haleh said, "they're five minutes out."

Kerry nodded. "Prep Trauma One."

Haleh bustled off.

"So when could you sneak off for some dinner yourself?" Kim said, leaning both elbows on the counter.

"In a little less than an hour," Kerry said.

Kim smiled as she peeled herself away from the counter and headed back towards the elevator. "Okay, then. Come and get me when you're free. I'll be in my office playing solitaire."

"Solitaire?" Kerry repeated.

Kim waved her off. "Never mind, long story."

Kerry stood there, watching her walk down the hall, her smile blossoming with every step.

Kerry crutched her way out into the ambulance bay to meet the gurney.

"Female in her early thirties, not wearing a seatbelt, single vehicle accident. She slammed into an overpass on the Ryan, must've been doing eighty, eighty-five at least," the paramedic hollered as they rolled the gurney through the rain to the shelter of the ER. He held an ambu-bag over the woman's face and was squeezing it rhythmically as they ran. "LOC at the scene, head and facial lacs as you can see. Respiratory arrest en route, pulse 74 and weak and BP has been falling since we left the scene, right now it's eighty over thirty. Oh and her right foot has been dislocated, but frankly that's the least of her problems right now."

They slammed through the trauma room doors and the woman's broken and bleeding body was transferred onto the stretcher in a matter of seconds. Kerry listened for her breathing and heard nothing.

"Haleh, get me an intubation tray and then I want a Chem 7, CBC, urinalysis, ABG, type and cross match 6 units, now," Kerry said. "Abby, get two large bore IV's going and get radiology in here right away!"

Nurses scurried in all direction as the paramedics tried to exit with their stretcher.

"Did you get a name?" Kerry hollered after them, positioning herself at the head of the gurney, noting the bleeding in her forehead and face. She'd gone at least partly through the windshield judging by the amount of glass that was still embedded in her skin.

The paramedic shook his head. "No, she was crashing, we just scooped and ran," he said. "Good luck."

Abby and Chuny were efficiently cutting off the woman's tattered and blood stained clothing when Abby felt something fall from the coat pocket of the woman's trench coat.

"I've got a wallet, Dr. Weaver," Abby said, quickly opening it and scanning for ID. She found the driver's license and pulled it out. "Her name is Nancy Elliot." She read a moment longer. "Oh, it says here that she's a doctor."

Kerry whipped the lead out of the tube and moved aside for Haleh to attach the respirator. "What did you say?" Kerry said. "What was the name?"

"Dr. Nancy Elliot," Abby said.

Kerry's face blanched. "Let me see that," she said, reaching for the driver's license. "Oh my God," she said softly when she saw the picture. She looked at Abby. "Page Dr. Legaspi, right away."

Abby froze, a puzzled look on her face. Her eyes flicked towards the unconscious woman on the table. "You want a psych consult?" she asked.

"Just do it!" Kerry yelled and she moved herself down towards Nancy's bare midriff which was distended and which bore the ripening imprints of the steering wheel and dash. She palpated her belly and turned to Haleh. "Get whoever's on surgical in here now!"

Haleh moved quickly to the phone but not before exchanging looks with Chuny about the tone Weaver's voice had suddenly taken on.

Less than sixty seconds later, Elizabeth Corday sailed through the trauma room doors, snapping on gloves. "Kerry, you called for a surgeon?" she said.

Kerry didn't look up from her examination of Nancy's pelvis and hips. "Single vehicle MVA, not wearing a seat belt. Blood pressure and pulse are slowly dropping, as is her temperature. She's going into hemorrhagic shock but I can't find any penetrating trauma. Belly was doughy and full to the touch."

Elizabeth was already pressing down on Nancy's belly in different spots. "Good Lord," she said, looking at Kerry, "she's bleeding out into her belly. We have to get her to the OR quickly." She reached for Nancy's chart.

"Elizabeth," Kerry said, quietly, "she's a close friend of Dr. Legaspi's."

Elizabeth's face froze for an instant and then she gave Kerry an almost barely perceptible nod. "All right then, I need to see the labs, where are the labs?" She pulled the room's ultrasound machine closer to the gurney and squirted jelly onto Nancy's discoloured abdomen.

"Dr. Weaver?" Abby said from the door. "Dr. Legaspi's not answering her pager and the service said her shift is over."

Kerry pulled in a breath to make herself sound calm. "She's up in her office, Abby. Go upstairs right now and get her down here, even if you have to take her physically by the hand and lead her down the steps, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Abby said and she scurried off towards the elevators.

"Oh yes, we have a full belly," Elizabeth said, peering intently at the black and green screen. "And I think…" She moved the ultrasound wand a few centimeters. "Yes, there is it -- there's a tear in her abdominal aorta and the inferior vena cava and surely there are rips in her liver. I can't tell how big yet, but that accounts for the bleeding. We've got to get her aorta clamped if we're going to --"

Every monitor in the room exploded into a symphony of discordant beeps.

"She's in V-fib," Haleh said, "and her pressure has dropped to 50 systolic."

"She's bleeding out," Elizabeth said.

"Push an amp of epi and an amp of dopamine," Kerry said and she was already reaching for the defibrillator paddles. They charged and Kerry fired them, made Nancy's pale, half-naked body jerk and jump on the table. All eyes went to the cardiac monitor.

"She's still in V-fib," Haleh reported. "Charge again?"

"Two fifty and another amp of epi," Kerry said and she shocked Nancy's heart a second time, to no avail. "Three hundred!" Kerry shouted.

"No, Kerry, wait, it's no good. She hasn't got the blood volume to get her heart pumping again." Elizabeth glanced at the freeze frame of the ultrasound. "I'm going to have to try to clamp it down here. Haleh, open a thoracotomy tray and Chuny, set up a sterile drape. Quickly, now!"

Kerry stood there, impotently holding the defibrillator paddles and she watched Elizabeth readying the sternal saw. She wondered suddenly whether she hoped Kim showed up soon, or whether she didn't come until it was over.

Section Six

Abby jogged the length of the hallway, stopping the odd familiar face to ask if they'd seen Kim Legaspi recently. People shook their heads and watched her jog by. Although she didn't understand why Dr. Weaver had been quite so anxious for her to go and fetch Dr. Legaspi, she knew from experience that Dr. Weaver never sent you on a fool's errand and that she wasn't big on being questioned. Especially in front of others.

So Abby jogged.

Kim's office was at the end of the hall as she remembered, but she knew before she knocked that she wasn't there. The light was off and when she tried the door, it was locked. She knocked anyway.

"Dr. Legaspi, it's Abby Lockhart from the ER," she called out. "Dr. Weaver sent me up to get you. It's very important that you come down to the ER." She waited, bouncing nervously from foot to foot, then rapped one more time for good measure. "Dr. Legaspi, are you there?"

There was no answer. And Abby blew out a frustrated breath. Where the hell could she be?

The psych ward.

The woman set off at a sprint.

"Hang another four units of blood," Elizabeth said "and Haleh, I need more suction, I can't see a blasted thing."

Chuny checked the supply and then looked up. "We've already given her all we have, Dr. Corday."

"Then go to the blood bank and get some more and get some packed red cells," Elizabeth said, "because this woman is bleeding out!" Chuny raced out the door.

Kerry glanced over at the monitors and then back down at Nancy's heart, which she held in her hands, coaxing it to pump, massaging it, almost talking to it, urging it to straighten up and do it's job. It was a strong heart, Kerry had noticed, the moment Elizabeth had spread Nancy's rib cage with that sickening bone breaking sound -- the heart was a good size, with strong tissue and almost no signs of cardiovascular disease. It was a heart that had exercised, that had not been fed a lot of fat. It was also a heart that was dying. Quickly.

"Bugger!" she said under her breath and Kerry saw that she had tried in vain to find a spot to position a clamp that would perhaps staunch the flow a little and allow her to find something, anything to sew up. The clamp slipped out of her bloody fingers and hit the floor.

"Another Satinksy clamp!" she barked and another clamp was in her hand and she was groping half-blind for Nancy's torn artery. Her eyes flicked over to meet Kerry's and their silent glances said all that was necessary.

"There!" she said suddenly and she pulled her hands out of Nancy's chest cavity to look at the monitor. Her pressure crept up a few points.

"All right, two oh silk, quickly now," she said, "and Haleh more suction, I have to see what I'm doing here."

Elizabeth bent over her work and Kerry craned her neck to see what the woman was doing. Quick, nimble stitches as if she was just binding it all together for the time being.

"Stop compressions," Elizabeth said and Kerry pulled her hands away. Everyone watched Nancy's heart. The monitor screamed.

"She's in a-fib, charge the cardiac paddles," Kerry said.

"I'm going to try to throw a few stitches in her vena cava, see if that might help," Elizabeth said and as she readied the silk, she glanced at Nancy's liver which looked like it had been shredded. She pursed her lips and dug in again, feeling for the artery to repair. Kerry tucked the two silver paddles onto either side of Nancy's trembling heart.

"Clear," Kerry shouted and Elizabeth withdrew.

Everyone waited. The monitor let out a sad whine.

"Asystole," Chuny said, hesitantly.

"Push another amp of epi," Kerry said, "and charge again."

Elizabeth worked quickly, desperately trying to find a length of vein that had not bee shredded by the force of hitting the cement divider.

"Clear!" Kerry yelled and she shocked Nancy's heart.

The whine continued.

Abby banged on the door of the psych ward to catch the attention of the attendant at the desk. She held up her ID and he buzzed her in. She raced to the desk.

"I'm looking for Dr. Legaspi," she said.

"Oh, she's been off for almost an hour now. She might have gone home."

Abby banged the desk with her hand. "No, she's still here, somewhere. Do you know anyplace she might be?"

"Did you try her office?"

Abby nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I did. Anyplace else?"

The clerk shook his head. "Sorry. If she's off her shift, she doesn't check in with me."

"Okay, thanks," Abby said and she turned and jogged away.

She got to the hall and looked up and down, thinking. Maybe she'd just stepped out to go to the bathroom or something, she thought and she's back in her office now. Yeah, that could be it. She sprinted in the direction of Kim's office, hoping to hell she found Dr. Legaspi soon because she'd run out of places to look and she really didn't want to have to go back downstairs and tell Dr. Weaver that she couldn't find her.

The monitor's whine continued, uninterrupted and Kerry wanted to throw something at it.

"How long since the last epi?" she asked.

"Two minutes," someone said.

"Charge again," she said and then, "clear!"

Nancy's heart lay there, perfectly still in a puddle of crimson blood and the screaming monitor shrieked as if it were mourning.

"Kerry," Elizabeth said, and she shook her head sadly. "There's nothing more I can do-- there's nothing left to sew up." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

Kerry took a deep breath and stepped back, handed Chuny the blood covered paddles and ripped off her blood soaked yellow gown. "Time of death 5:48 p.m.," she said.

Elizabeth pulled off her gloves and threw them on the floor. "Bloody waste," she said, as she headed for the exit. "Why don't people wear their seatbelts?" The doors swung shut behind her.

Chuny and Haleh stood perfectly still, watching Kerry expectantly. The small woman stood there and stared at the body on the table for a long moment, then she seemed to suddenly take in the blood soaked gauze, tattered remains of clothing and empty needle barrels on the floor. She lifted her eyes to look at the two nurses.

"I want you to gather every sharp, every tube, every piece of equipment we used and bag it and take it to the suture room to do the inventory," she said, still not moving. "Get the rib spreader off her and cover her with fresh sheets, take out the IV's, everything," Kerry said. "Clean her up. And do it quickly."

Haleh and Chuny nodded and swept into motion, sensing the importance of Kerry's instructions. Kerry moved to the head of the table, yanking off cardiac leads as she went. She carefully removed the ventilator tube from Nancy's throat and gently closed the woman's mouth.

Abby saw her, at her office door, keys in one hand, wallet and a can of Coke in the other.

"Dr. Legaspi," Abby said, "I've been looking for you. Dr. Weaver wants you to come down to the ER right away."

Kim looked puzzled. "She does know I'm not on anymore, doesn't she?"

Abby tried to catch her breath. "I have a feeling she doesn't care, actually. She just said to get you and bring you down, now."

Kim jammed her keys back into her pocket and the two women rushed to the elevator.

Kerry was there when the doors opened, leaning heavily on her crutch, looking weary.

"Thank you, Abby," she said, when they got off.

Abby nodded and started to head off then paused. "Is there anything else I can do, Dr. Weaver?"

Kerry shook her head. "No, thank you, Abby. That's fine."

Kim grabbed Kerry's arm and there was concern in her eyes. "Kerry, what's the matter, why did you need me so quickly? Are you okay?"

Kerry sighed and tried to force a smile. Actually she felt like hell, but that was not why she had sent for Kim.

"Kim, come on and sit down with me for a minute," Kerry said, leading her towards one of the benches near the elevators. "I need to tell you something."

"What?" Kim asked, her heart picking up the pace now. "What is it, Ker?"

Kerry gently pulled her down onto the bench.

"There's been an accident," Kerry said. "Not long after you left to go upstairs, the paramedics brought in a woman who had been in a car accident on the Ryan Expressway. She'd hit an overpass at a very high speed."

Kim watched Kerry intently, confusion and concern mingling in her eyes.

"The woman was Nancy, Kim," Kerry said.

Kim blinked and felt her body go cold, but her voice sounded composed. "No, Kerry, there's a mistake, I think. She was here. I just talked to her a little over an hour ago. She had another appointment to get to."

Kerry said nothing, just watched Kim's face.

"It's not her, Ker. You're wrong."

"It is, Kim," Kerry said. "I saw her driver's license."

Kim opened her mouth, then seemed to lose track of what she was going to say. She closed it again.

"She was very badly hurt, Kim. She had serious internal injuries and she wasn't breathing on her own when the paramedics arrived." Kerry reached for Kim's hand. "We intubated her and I called for a surgical consult. Elizabeth Corday arrived and she checked Nancy's belly and we realized that she was bleeding internally. She went into V-fib and we couldn't shock her out of it because there wasn't enough blood in her system to fill her heart properly."

Kim's eyes had developed an eerie distant look, but Kerry plunged on. She had to finish this.

"Elizabeth performed a thoracotamy and I massaged her heart for almost twenty minutes, but…her aorta was so badly shredded from the impact that there was nothing there to repair. We tried shocking her with the cardiac paddles but…nothing worked, Kim. She was just too badly injured." Kerry squeezed her hand and forced the lump of tears in her own throat back down. "I'm so sorry, Kim. She died."

Kim's face did not change as Kerry uttered these words and Kerry, who had been prepared for tears, studied her carefully.

"Kim?" she said.

It took a huge effort for Kim to drag her gaze back to Kerry's face. "I need to see her," she said softly.

Kerry nodded and took her arm, leading her through the halls to the trauma room. Chuny and Haleh had cleaned away every trace of the flurry of activity that had unfolded in this room and all that remained was Nancy's still form, her black hair splayed across the white gurney, the pristine sheets tucked up to her pale shoulders.

Kim moved into the room slowly, as if sleep walking and she stood beside the stretcher looking down at Nancy, saying nothing. Kerry wheeled a stool over and gently coaxed Kim into a sitting position. She stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, studying Nancy's still face.

"I didn't catch it," Kim said, quietly. "It was right there in front of me and I didn't catch it."

Kerry blinked to keep the tears away. "Didn't catch what, sweetie?"

"Today when she left, she told me that I'd been a good friend to her," Kim said. "She had planned it and she was saying goodbye and I didn't catch it."

"Kim," Kerry said and she rubbed her lover's arm tenderly. "You can't blame yourself. You were doing everything you could for her, like you do for all your patients."

Kim nodded sadly. "Yeah," she said, flatly. "And it wasn't enough, was it?"

Kerry's mind roared around in tail-chasing circles, trying to find something to say, something that would reach her, that would matter.

Kim's pale hand stretched out and stroked Nancy's dark hair, tenderly pushed it off her forehead. She ran the back of her hand across a tiny expanse of cheek that was not encrusted with fragments of exploded windshield and she sighed. "Oh, Nance," she said softly.

And then Kerry felt a change in the air, as if a thunderstorm had suddenly passed through the room. Kim stood up.

"I have to go," she said and she started walking away.

Kerry chased after her. "Kim, Kim, listen to me, I'm going to find someone to cover the last three hours of my shift and then I can take you home, okay?"

She was talking to Kim's back as the tall woman strode purposefully out of the ER area and towards the stairs.

"I'm fine, Kerry, it's okay," she said.

"The hell you're fine," Kerry said, struggling to keep up. "Kim, you're upset. Stop for a minute and talk to me, okay?"

"Really, I'm fine," Kim said. "I just need to get out of here for a while." She reached the bottom of the stairs and started to run up them, two at a time. "You should call her husband. His name is Craig Milburn."

Kerry considered trying to navigate the stairs, then gave that idea up before she'd even tried it. There's no way she'd keep up with her. "Kim!" she called. "Please just stop for a minute and talk to me! Please!"

The only response was the sound of Kim's shoes slapping the stone steps as she climbed.

Kerry blew out a frustrated breath and then smacked the banister with her crutch.

Luka had been happy to cover for her for the rest of the shift, but just as she was getting on her coat to go, a multivictim trauma rolled in and with Luka up to his elbows in GSW's, there was no way she could leave. Thankfully, Mark showed up for his shift almost a half an hour early and Kerry had her coat and purse and was sprinting for the parking lot before Mark had even found his stethoscope.

She'd phoned home four times since Kim had left, had left two messages, but had not yet been able to reach her.

Something was wrong. She knew it.

This was not the grief of losing a close friend that she'd seen in Kim tonight. It was more like the behaviour of someone who has been pushed and pushed and pushed and finally pushed just a little too far. She sat at a red light, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, willing the traffic to move faster.

She had to get home.

She barely remembered to put the car in park before flinging the door open and hurtling through it onto the pavement. She crutched her way at a furious speed across the street, scanning up and down for Kim's Jetta. It was not there.

The house was dark and her heart was pounding by the time she got the door open and she raced in calling Kim's name. The empty house echoed hollowly back at her. She went room to room, not knowing what to expect, turning on lights and peering into every space where Kim could possibly be.

The answering machine was blinking but both messages were her own and for an agonizing minute, Kerry stood there with the phone in her hand, in danger of hyperventilating with fear.

Where was she?

Finally, she made herself go back to the living room, sit on the couch and slow her mind down. Her hip and leg ached while she sat there, considering possibilities.

Start at the hospital.

She phoned her office directly and left a message for her to call. Then she phoned the pysch ward, identified herself and asked for Dr. Legaspi.

"Oh, I'm sorry Dr. Weaver, but Dr. Legaspi is not on at the moment and she won't be in for a few days. If you want, you can leave a message on her voice --"

"What do you mean she won't be in for a few days?" Kerry said.

"Oh she phoned in a few hours ago. Some emergency I think. Said she wouldn't be in for the rest of the week."

Kerry's limbs went numb and she sat there, gripping the phone, trying to process this information. "All right, if she happens to call in again, would you tell her that I'm trying to reach her?"

The clerk agreed and rang off. A few moments later, Kerry remembered to hang up. She stared blankly at the small portable phone in her hands.

Oh, Jesus, Kim, where are you?

She'd only pulled off twice to cry.

Which didn't mean she'd only cried twice. Technically, she'd been crying without a break since she turned her Jetta into the northbound lane of the John F. Kennedy Expressway and put her foot to the floor. The rain swept landscape had blurred with the speed and with her tears and she'd been grateful not to have to see anything too clearly for a while. Northward, always north and the traffic had thinned and the highway had narrowed until it was just one lane in each direction and still she sobbed.

It was not the image of her mangled body that unhinged her. It was the memory of standing in the doorway of her office, just a few hours ago, hugging her, embracing her, feeling hopeful with her about the new meds -- that was what made her pull over to the shoulder more than once so that she could lean her head on the steering wheel and sob until she thought her heart might actually break.

The rest of the time she stared at the slick road, registering the curves and the other traffic in the part of her brain that did such things, the rest of her mind remembering Nancy, thinking of her gentle, funny spirit and cursing herself for letting her die.

The road stretched ahead of her like a dark shiny ribbon and Kim just drove.

Kerry bustled along the sidewalk, not even noticing the rain. She'd checked the 24 hour diner and coffee shop in the neighbourhood where they sometimes had breakfast and she'd gone into Kim's favourite Starbucks and even quizzed one of the clerks. The nearby video store and the little pub that had the fabulous selection of single malt Scotch and now she was on her way back to Kim's house and a vice was tightening around her stomach.

She scaled the steps and burst into the house, quietly praying that Kim might have returned during her absence, but the house was as still as when she'd left it. She tore off her trench coat and threw it on the floor and headed back to the living room, mentally checking off possibilities.

On the odd chance that Kim might have gone to her house, Kerry had made a flying trip across the city to check, daring some foolish Chicago PD to try to stop her for speeding. She'd also begun calling Kim's cell phone every fifteen minutes, which, she admitted, was of limited use. Kim hated being handcuffed to a phone, found it intrusive and annoying, as well as a sign of the deterioration of society as a whole. Consequently, she rarely carried it with her, and when she did, it was as likely as not to be turned on.

Kerry phoned again anyway. No answer.

She rang off and sat there with the phone in her hand. She was running out of ideas, it was getting late, the weather was bad and if she relaxed the iron tight grip she had on her emotions for even a second, she was going to lose it entirely.

God, Kim.

She made herself breathe.

Okay. Next idea. She rummaged through the little drawer of the antique table where Kim kept the phone and found an address book. She flipped it open and ran her finger down a page, then dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Christie," Kerry said, "this is Kerry Weaver, I'm sorry to bother you so late…"

It was the light that attracted her. She'd been driving through miles and miles of heavily wooded and rural areas where the only light besides her own headlights was the blue glow from the dash of the car. Suddenly, things cleared out and there, on the horizon was a beacon -- a gas station with a diner. There were intensely white spotlights over the gas pumps but it was the light from the diner that pulled her in and made her stop. It was golden, somehow, like honey. Warm and sweet.

She pulled off and negotiated the potholes in the gravel parking area, coming to rest not far from the front door. A single 18 wheeler was parked on the other side of the diner, but Kim saw that there was room for several more.

She got out of the car and sucked in the cold air. It had stopped raining, or maybe she'd just driven out of the rain, she didn't know. She could've been driving for days by now. She really had no idea.

She reached back into the car for her wallet and her jacket and then made her way to the entrance.

The diner smelled of coffee and bacon and toast and it was larger than it looked from outside. There was a big L-shaped counter and behind it, Kim could see through to the kitchen. A man with a trucker's cap sat alone at a table by the window, reading the paper and nursing his coffee; his empty plate having been pushed aside to make room for the news.

At the far end of the long counter was a compact woman with deep auburn curls that had been piled on top of her head. She wore tight jeans, a form fitting white t-shirt and there was a pristine cook's apron tied around her waist. She was consolidating half-empty ketchup bottles and refilling empty ones. She looked up when Kim came in and she smiled at her.

Kim made her way to the counter and put her jacket down on a red leatherette stool. The woman took a last drag on her cigarette, stubbed it out and then walked to where Kim stood.

"What can I getcha, honey?" she said and her eyes passed over Kim's injuries without pausing or flinching.

"Just a cup of coffee for now," Kim said. "And uh, is there a washroom I could use?"

The woman nodded with her head. "End of the counter and turn left," she said.

Kim thanked her and set off.

She exited the stall and came face to face with herself in the mirror. "Jesus," she said and one hand reflexively came up and touched the bruises and her slightly swollen, discoloured nose. Added to that now were two puffy, red-rimmed and lifeless eyes and suddenly Kim found herself wanting to cry for a whole new set of reasons.

She washed her hands and then splashed cold water on her face, over and over, trying to soothe her tired eyes. She dried her face with rough paper towels, ran a half-hearted hand through her hair and then winced at the pounding headache that had surfaced when she'd stopped driving.

She sighed and headed back to the restaurant.

She glanced at the glass display case near the cash register and saw candy bars, gum and Tums, but no aspirin and found herself wanting to cry at that. Okay, she thought to herself, get a grip, now. Just get a little bit of a grip.

She managed to make it , on unsteady legs, back to the stool where she'd left her coat. As she sat down, the waitress appeared with a steaming cup of coffee and a little ceramic pot of fresh cream. "There you go, hon," she said, "I just made it fresh so you're safe." She winked and smiled, then disappeared back to her ketchup bottles.

Kim heard a chair scrape the floor and turned to see the truck driver in the corner standing up and collecting his newspaper. He made his way slowly towards the cash register.

"Franny, you outdid yourself as usual," he said, peeling bills of a small wad and laying them on the counter.

"Nobody appreciates my omelets like you, Norm," she said, ringing it up and handing him change. "I wish you'd drop by more."

"If I get that new run to Chicago, I just might be able to," he said. He put some bills on the counter for her. "You say hi to Bobby for me."

"I will," she said, and she tucked the tip into her pocket. "Drive safe now, Norm."

"Always do," the man said as he slipped through the door and into the night air.

Fran peered down the counter at Kim, who was rubbing her forehead and debated for a moment, then dug her beaten up old purse out from under the counter. She made her way to the sink, poured a glass of cold water and set it down in front of the startled blonde woman.

"I've only got aspirin," Fran said as she searched her purse, "no Tylenol or anything like that. Is that okay?"

Kim couldn't find words for a moment, then she nodded. "Aspirin would be great," she said.

Fran located the small bottle and handed it to Kim, watched her shake out three and down them with water.

Kim forced a smile. "Thanks very much. It's kind of you."

The woman dropped the bottle back in her purse and continued to study Kim. Kim couldn't quite meet her gaze.

"It's none of my business and you can tell me to go to hell and trust me you won't be the first," she said, "but…are you all right? I mean, you don't look so good, honey."

Kim pulled in a deep breath, every muscle tensing to try to contain the tears. "It's been -- uh, kind of a hard day," she managed to get out. She tried to sip her coffee, saw that her hand was trembling and she lowered the cup back to the saucer.

A warm, work-worn hand covered hers and Kim looked up into wide, understanding eyes, felt pulled in and comforted.

"You probably haven't eaten," Fran said. "I can fix you almost anything you like, but I don't recommend the chili. My husband makes it and it's not for those with a weak constitution."

Kim was shaking her head. "No, no, I'm fine, really, I--"

"Honey," Fran said, and she squeezed Kim's hand. "You're not fine. You're not fine at all."

Kim stopped and stared at the woman, at her generously made up eyes that had little life lines spreading from the ends.

"You're right," Kim said, lifelessly. "I'm not."

Fran smiled at her, like she was congratulating a small child who had recited her lesson correctly. "How about some soup? Chicken noodle and I make it myself from scratch. Never seen the inside of a can."

"Sure," Kim said and immediately Fran was gone into the kitchen, emerging a few moments later with a bowl of hot soup and a handful of crackers. She placed it in front of Kim, grabbed a soup spoon from the caddy behind her, and handed it to her.

"Bon Appetit, as they say," Fran said and she ambled back down to her ketchup bottles and began again the sluggish process of draining them. She paused after a while to light a cigarette which she left burning at the far end of the counter.

The soup was filled with vegetables and egg noodles and chunks of tasty chicken and after her first bite, Kim realized she was ravenous and she ate it without pausing. She looked up and Fran was wandering back in her direction.

"How'd you find that? One of these ornery bastards today said I put too much garlic in it," she said. "Like he was the fucking food editor for the Tribune."

Kim chuckled. "No, the garlic was just right."

Fran glanced at the empty bowl and then up at Kim. "How about another? You could use to put on a few pounds, you know."

Kim nodded. "I'd love another," she said. "And do you think I could have a coke?"

"Coming right up," Fran said and her smile was a satisfied one, the smile of someone who had figured out the right thing to do and had done it well. "Oh, I'm Frances by the way. This is my place. Me and my husband."

"Kim," Kim said, extending her hand to shake Frances's.

A few moments later, Kim was digging into her second bowl of soup and Fran had sat herself down on a stool behind the counter.

"You from Chicago?" Fran asked.

Kim nodded.

"Where are you going to?"

Kim paused. "Nowhere, really. I -- I was just driving."

Fran nodded as if this answer made perfect sense to her. "Got somebody back in Chicago waiting up for you?"

Kim froze, spoon half way to her mouth. She nodded.

"Do they know where you are? That you're okay and all?"

Kim lowered her spoon back into the soup and shook her head.

Fran took a sip of her own coffee and then put the cup back down. "Well, they're probably sick out of their minds with worry right about now. If you want to call 'em, you're welcome to use my phone."

Kim sat there, plumbing her own empty depths. "I -- I can't," she said. "I don't even know why, but I -- just can't right now."

"You know, ordinarily a woman comes in here at this time of night, by herself, looking the way you do and the first thing I want to say is 'Whoever he is, honey, he ain't worth it.' But I don't get that feeling from you."

Kim smiled shyly and sipped her coke. "It wasn't an abusive boyfriend who did this to me," she said.

Fran's carefully plucked eyebrows raised. "You're not going to try to feed me some line about how it was the bathroom door or the basement stairs, are you?"

Kim shook her head. "No, it really was an accident. It happened at work. I was -- well, I was head-butted, basically."

Fran's eyebrows climbed higher. "That sounds like one hell of a crazy place you work at."

Kim nodded with the slightest smile. "Crazy is a good word for it."

Fran regarded her for a long time without speaking. "But that's not why you're upset, is it? The shiner and all. It's something else."

Kim's body tensed as the tide of tears rose again. "My -- a very good friend of mine died today."

Fran's eyes widened. "Oh Christ Jesus, Kim, I'm so sorry. Oh, that's just terrible." The older woman wrung her hands and cast about for the right thing to say. "Was it sudden, or had she been sick? It wasn't the cancer, was it?"

Kim shook her head. "She killed herself," she said softly.

Fran sat there, immobile. "Well, Christ, doesn't that just --" She got up and headed to the fridge, pulled out a couple of beer bottles, came around the counter and sat down on the stool next to Kim's. She cracked a beer and handed it to Kim, then opened the other for herself.

"I don't know what to say, honey. I mean, there is nothing to say, is there?" Fran took a swig of her beer. "God, a good friend is harder to find than a good man. No matter how you lose one, it's a tragedy, but this….God."

Kim sat there, the cold beer chilling her hands.

Fran watched her for a minute. "You sure there isn't somebody I could call for you? I'll even talk to him, if you want, you know, if you don't feel like talking right now, just so that he would know you're safe."

"She," Kim said, wearily.

"Come again?"

"So that she would know I'm safe," Kim said. "My partner is a woman, Fran. Her name is Kerry."

"Well, fine then, she's the one we should call, isn't she?" and she regarded Kim with a frank, open face.

Kim leaned her forearms on the counter and stared at her beer bottle. "Yes, she is."

Fran watched Kim not rushing to the phone and her eyes narrowed. "Why are you running away from her then?"

Kim's head snapped up and she stared at Fran. "I'm not running away," she said. "I think I just needed some time to think."

Fran raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Well, let's see…you're about three hours from home and your partner doesn't know where you are…your best friend died today and instead of being home, letting your girlfriend console you, you're sitting in a diner, half way to Lake Superior." She leveled her sights on Kim. "If that's not running away, honey, you tell me what is."

Kim let her head sink into her hands. "I was supposed to help her."

"Who were you supposed to help?" Fran asked, peering at her.

"Nancy, my friend. She came to me and asked me to help her and I let her down," Kim said. She ran a thumb over the beer label.

Fran's eyes narrowed. "How were you supposed to help her?" she asked.

Kim sighed. "I'm a psychiatrist. She was very depressed and she asked me to treat her." Kim finally raised her eyes and looked at Fran. "I should've had her hospitalized or-- or -- just put on an involuntary hold, or something. I should've found a way to stop her from doing this."

Fran raised an eyebrow. "You know, that's the problem with you doctors -- you're all so convinced that you're God," she said. "You couldn't have prevented her from doing this, Kim."

Kim shook her head, her disheveled curls dancing as she did. "No, Frances, she would have been safe in the hospital. There would have been people to watch her around the clock, to keep her safe. She'd be alive now if I'd done that."

"Maybe, but for how long?"

Kim's eyes snapped up and met the older woman's.

"It has generally been my observation that people who really want to kill themselves somehow manage to succeed," Fran said. "I mean, she was determined enough this time that she fooled you, right?"

Kim's shoulders sagged and she pictured Nancy's empty body laying in the trauma room, such a useless shell now. She turned and looked at Fran.

"She was counting on me to help her, Fran. I was supposed to be able to do something about this and I didn't." She took a swig of her beer. "I let her die."

Fran considered Kim for a long moment, then took a sip from her beer. "You know, as much as I'd like to think that I'm not old enough to be your mother, the fact of the matter is that I probably am. Fifty sailed by so quickly I hardly remember the goddam view. But anyway, since I am old enough to be your mother, let me give you some motherly advice." She leaned closer. "Call your girlfriend and tell her where you are and that you're safe. Then get back into that expensive German car of yours and get your ass back to her, where it belongs."

Kim mustered an imitation of a smile. "Thanks for the advice, Fran, but I -- I just can't," she said.

"Why not?"

She chuckled, mirthlessly. "I think some part of me thinks that if I just stay here, then Nancy's really not dead and I don't have to face that." She took another pull on her beer. "That and I'm too ashamed to face Kerry right now."

"Why?"

Kim smiled sheepishly. "Because I ran away. Again."

Fran nodded wisely and sighed. "You know, I'm sure they pay you well at that psychiatrist's job of yours, but…I have to wonder who in the hell would want to do that kind of job," she said. "All these people coming to you all the time, needing your help, making demands…" Kim watched her while she took a thoughtful sip from her long-necked bottle. "When the fact of the matter is that you really can't help a single one of them."

Kim's eyes fastened on Fran's face. "What do you mean?"

"Well, see, you're sitting here tonight beating yourself up because you couldn't help your friend. But the truth is that it's not about you, honey. It's about her. You can do all the helping in the world, you can be the Mother fucking Theresa of helping, but it's no good if she won't accept it."

Kim blinked and stared at Fran.

"I mean, it stands to reason this sort of thing is going to happen from time to time, someone who just cannot or will not accept help from someone, you know, who won't just let other people give them something. And actually, when you consider how much harder it is to receive than it is to give, it should probably happen even more often."

Kim sat stock still, her mind whirling. Kerry, in the lounge. She'd tried to tell her.

Why do you always make it so hard to give you anything?

Kim grabbed Fran's arm. "I need to use your phone."

Fran pointed towards the cash register. "It's right over there, honey. Help yourself."

Kim hurried across the diner and grabbed the receiver, furiously pushing buttons and listening. Kerry's house -- no answer. Her house -- busy signal. She glanced at her watch. Shit. She couldn't wait.

She raced back to where Fran sat, smiling wisely, and she snatched her jacket up. "I don't mean to be rude, Fran, but I have get home," she said, fumbling with her wallet. She put some bills down on the counter, then smiled at the little woman. "You've been a big help to me. Thank you."

Fran nodded and waved her beer bottle towards the door. "Go! Go! But drive safely!" she said.

Kim nodded and headed for the door. Fran's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait, wait, you've left way too much here," she said, holding the bills Kim had set down for her.

"The extra is for the therapy," Kim said and she flew out the door into the night air.

Fran sat on the stool and watched Kim get into her Jetta, rev the engine and peel out of the parking lot. The auburn haired woman took a swig of beer and smiled.

She pulled into the first spot she saw, leaped from the car and ran down the street towards her house, where she could see that at least some of the lights were on, beckoning her down the sidewalk. She took the stairs in one leap, dropped her keys, and cursed as she felt around on the cement for them. Back in hand now, rattling musically as she pushed the door open and she was yelling for Kerry before she was even through the door.

She managed to wrench her keys out and shut the door and then Kerry was there at the head of the hallway, looking tired and old and so wrung out and Kim realized that she had never loved her as much as she did this very minute. She bounded the three steps to her arms and suddenly Kerry was sobbing and sobbing, her back heaving with the effort of it and she was trying to speak but couldn't form words over the volume of her own tears.

Kim crushed her tiny body to her own and buried her face in Kerry's neck, her own hot tears flowing now, saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over again. Kerry's crutch clattered to the ground as she raised both arms to encircle Kim's neck, to hang onto her and a moment later her knees gave out and Kim gently lowered both of them to the tile floor.

Kerry took Kim's face in her hands, tears running freely down both their faces. "I didn't know where -- you were -- and I thought -- you -- were hurt --" Kerry said, hiccupping over the wrenching sobs that continued to rip their way out of her. "I thought you -- I thought --"

"Shhh, shhh," Kim said and she pulled Kerry's head to her chest and rocked her. "I'm here now, I'm fine. I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

"I didn't know what to do," Kerry moaned and Kim's acid tears caught in her throat at the pain in Kerry's voice. She lifted Kerry's head with one hand so that she could look at her eyes, and she wiped tears off the redhead's cheek with the other.

"I was stupid, Kerry," she said. "I was -- I was out of mind after I saw -- after Nancy. And I did what I always do. I ran away. I didn't think I had the right to ask you for what you keep trying to give me -- your comfort, your support. Your love." Kim kissed Kerry's forehead and her cheek, then looked her straight in the eye again. "But I think I know now how stupid that is. How hurtful. And I promise I will never run away from you again."

Kerry nodded, puddles of tears pooling again in her eyes. She searched Kim's eyes for a long moment. "Thank God you're home," she said and she gathered Kim into her arms and held her tightly.

Night had not yet given way to dawn and Kim lay in bed, staring into the half-darkness, remembering Nancy -- the specific shape and tilt of her smile, her insatiable need to be a smartass. She thought about the day that Nancy's mother had died and Kim had driven her all the way back to Florida to claim her body and arrange for the funeral. Midnight study sessions, coffee houses, PMS and bad dates -- they'd dragged each other through it all. More than anything, though, Kim kept thinking of her wedding day and how she and Craig had held each other out on that dance floor, as if they were the only two people left in the world. She remembered standing on the side-lines, watching them, hoping that some day she would find a woman who would make her feel like that -- who could make the rest of the world just drop away.

Kim felt Kerry's body close by in the half-light, Kerry's breasts warm and soft against her back. Even as she felt the familiar cramping in her chest, the squeezing pain of trying to hold back yet more tears, Kim rolled over in their bed and turned to Kerry who was not only awake, but waiting for her.

"I need you," Kim said and the quiet tears came again.

Kerry smiled sadly and nodded, spreading her arms for Kim to come and lay in. Kim pulled herself closer, lay her head somewhere between Kerry's breast and shoulder and she surrendered herself to the warmth and strength that this tiny woman had to give.

It was like coming home.

EPILOGUE

Kim's office door was open and when she looked up from her charts, she could see two nurses trying to hang a fold out tissue paper turkey from a smoke detector in the hallway. They weren't having a lot of luck. Each time they thought they had managed to hang it, the casing of the smoke detector would fall off and clatter to the floor and they would have to begin again.

Thanksgiving, Kim decided, made people do strange things.

She and Kerry weren't going to make a big deal of it -- both of them were scheduled to work a few shifts over the weekend, anyways, and Kim was thinking that maybe it would be nice to go out someplace for a really good meal. Treat themselves. After all, they both had a lot to be thankful for this year.

Kim turned her attention back to her charts and was writing prescription orders when her pen ran out of ink. She tossed it into the wastepaper basket and yanked a drawer open to search for a new one.

Her eyes fell on the letter and she paused.

She didn't know what drew her back to it, time and time again, but as surely as she knew she'd read it at least a thousand times in the days since Nancy had died, she knew she would read it again today.

She slipped it out of its resting spot and stared at the handwriting on the envelope, at the postmark. She'd mailed it the day she'd driven into the overpass. It had arrived three days later.

Kim opened it, smoothed the paper and let her eyes run over Nancy's artistic script.

My dearest Kim,

If you're reading this and I'm no longer alive, then you're probably really pissed at me. (Of course if you're reading this and I am still alive, I'm going to be really pissed.)

I'm sorry, Kim. I don't have the words to tell you how sorry -- I just don't know how to do it. I am so very, very sorry -- and still words are insufficient.

I don't know if you can understand -- I feel a certain responsibility to explain it to you, to help you to see why it couldn't be any other way. Sure, I know that this depression will get better (or so you say, at least, but I trust you more than anyone.) But then the next one will come and it will be deeper and longer and blacker than the last one and I just don't know how a person is supposed to face that. Because even if I manage to walk through this particular dark night, there will always be a worse one, waiting to come. We both know the prognosis, Kim.

I can't do that to myself anymore and I certainly can't keep doing it to Craig -- he's been there every horrible step of the way, helping, listening, caring for me, doing more than any husband should have to do. He needs a life and he'll never have one while he feel he needs to stand around and watch me drown in this tar pit.

I'm too tired, too old, too wrung out to even try anymore. Even with you and Craig holding my hands.

And that's why I'm writing this letter to you, Kim. I don't want you to think that you failed me somehow and to torture yourself with thoughts of what you might have said or done.

Know this -- since I made this decision, I feel calm, at peace with myself for the first time in a very long time. I know in my heart that this is what I want, that this is what's right for me. We're starting to let terminal AIDS patients and cancer patients end their lives with dignity -- why not me?

And know this, also -- you are a gifted and amazing psychiatrist, Kim. You have always dazzled me with your insight, your dedication, your empathy -- I have admired you more than I can say.

I have also treasured your friendship more than you can possibly know and my only regret in leaving this world is that you might think you failed me.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Move forward Kim and never lose sight of that part of you that is magical and divine and that can channel healing to those poor souls who need it so badly.

And let Kerry take care of you from time to time, because I'm sorry to tell you Kim, you're human, just like the rest of us.

I will be forever in your debt, my dear, dear friend.

All my love,

Nance

Kim sighed deeply as she folded the pages up and slid them back into the envelope. Why did she need to keep reading it like this? Did she expect it to say something different one of these times? Was there some answer that would finally satisfy her hidden in between the neat lines of blue ink? Kim shook her head at herself and slipped the letter back into the drawer.

God, she missed her.

Her pager trilled and she glanced down at its tiny screen.

ER.

She grabbed her clipboard.

The ER was a little bit of a tomb, Kim thought as she made her way past the exam rooms to the admit desk. No trauma, only two people in exam rooms and nobody in curtains. Wow. This was too good to last.

Randi was at the desk, furiously chewing her gum and studying what looked like the sports section.

"Hi, Randi," Kim said. "Somebody paged me?"

Randi lowered the paper. "Oh, hi, Dr. Legaspi, yeah, that would be me."

Kim raised an eyebrow. "You?"

Randi nodded. "Yeah. Me."

Kim looked blankly at her.

Randi cocked a hand on her hip. "Well, it's a slow day, okay?"

Kim chuckled. "Okay. So what do you need me for?"

"Well, I heard through the grapevine -- well, from Frank, really, that you have this killer system for the ER football pool. He says your system is paying off big time and he said that it would be right up my alley." She watched Kim expectantly.

"He did, did he?" Kim said. "Well, it's not a really complicated system. I supposed I could let you in on it."

Randi nearly squealed with excitement, then she froze. "I don't have to know anything about football, do I? 'Cause I don't."

"Don't have to know a thing."

"Okay, so what do I do?" she asked, grabbing a pen and the sports page.

"Step one," Kim said. "Take all the pairs of teams that are playing this weekend and find out what colour their uniforms are."

Randi snapped her gum. "This doesn't sound very scientific."

"I didn't say it was scientific," Kim said. "But I will tell you that I bought a DVD player with the money from the pool I won two weeks ago."

Randi's eyes widened. "Okay. Get colours. Then what?"

"Then come find me, I'll show you the next step."

Randi nodded. "You got it." She scurried off after Malucci. "Hey, Dave, come here, I need to ask you a sports question."

Kim chuckled to herself and watched her charge after Malucci, then spotted Kerry rubbing something off the board.

"Dr. Weaver," she called in a friendly tone.

Kerry turned and spotted her at the desk. Her smile radiated. "Dr. Legaspi," she said, crutching her way over to see her. "Did somebody page you?" Kerry asked, looking around for a potential psych consult.

"Well, actually, Randi did, but that was on a matter unrelated to psychiatry," Kim said.

One of Kerry's eyebrows spiked. "Yeah, okay, this sounds like something you better not tell me."

"Agreed," Kim said, "but since I have you here…"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking about the fact that we aren't really getting much of a holiday this weekend."

Kerry nodded. "I guess we're not, are we?"

"But I happened to notice that we're both off Thursday, Friday and Saturday next week."

"And?" Kerry was starting to smile.

"And I was wondering if maybe you would make reservations at that lodge you took me to last month. Maybe get some champagne and spend some time in bed and… well, just maybe recreate the whole experience."

Kerry's beamed at her. "I would love to do that. I'll call today."

Kim reached over and gave Kerry's arm a quick squeeze. "Thanks."

"What brought this to mind?" Kerry asked, shifting her crutch.

Kim thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess I'm just feeling a little needy."

Kerry smiled and said nothing.

"I gotta go," Kim said. "I'm up to my ass in chart reviews."

Kerry nodded. "We still on for supper?" she said as Kim turned to walk away.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me from it," Kim said over her shoulder.

Kerry watched her walk down the hall, the stark fluorescent lights making her golden hair shine and glow as she passed under each one. She remembered suddenly how Kim had said that she was never going to run away from her again and Kerry had known the moment that she'd said it that it was truth. That no matter what happened, no matter what foul winds came and blew her off course, she knew that Kim would always come home.

To her.

Kerry smiled.

The End

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