Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 20/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

*****************************************

It was strange how it all came back to you.  Dave looked at the Bishop
through the glass wall of the exam room before he entered.  The man was
alone.  He looked just like a man lying there -- but he was also a Bishop.
Dave knew you got to treat everyone in the ER -- it was one of the things
he liked about it, but he'd never needed to treat a Bishop before.  If
anyone had asked him yesterday how to address a Bishop, he would have
laughed the question off.  But out there in the ambulance bay, as soon as
he saw all the robes, everything Father Frank had told him about Church
hierarchy came rushing back.

Bishop Stewart had been cool throughout his and Kovac's examination of
him.  Very cool about it all.  Joking and taking it all in his stride just
the way priests were supposed to.  Father Frank would have liked the way
the Bishop acted, said it was appropriate and all.  Father Frank wouldn't
have said the way that Dave himself had behaved that morning was at all
appropriate.

Dave pushed his way through the door, and bustled up to the bed.  He took a
look at the chart, and pretended to make some notation on it.  "You
comfortable?  Still waiting on your x-rays."  Dave listened to himself and
corrected his language -- this was a Bishop after all.  "Radiology is
backed up today.  Can we give you any more analgesia?"

"I'm doing well thanks."

"Anything you need?"  Dave wanted to be able to tell Father Frank, -- if he
ever...that he'd treated the Bishop well.

"Just those x-rays."

"Um, sorry about the wait and all."

"It's fine."

Dave looked at the Bishop.  And suddenly had a flashback to lying on top of
Carter this morning.  He took a step backwards.  He was sure Bishop Stewart
wouldn't be that nice if he knew what he and Carter had done last night.
Dave hastily reminded himself they'd been drunk and tired and so it didn't
really count.  And this was a Bishop.

He didn't know if it being a Bishop made it better or worse.  Bishops were
supposed to know more than priests, just like the Chief was supposed to
know more than him.  Dave wondered if maybe this Bishop knew something that
would make it okay.  He could ask.  He could try asking.  He searched for
some words.

"Um.  I thought about being a priest once."  He had, too, he'd thought
about it a lot.  It had seemed a perfect job.  Then those sex-scandals had
hit the Church.  Dave could remember Father Frank's anger at them.  And
Father Frank didn't get angry often.  How the man's face had balled up at
first in disbelief, and then as the sagas went on growing, horror and
anger.  And how he'd expressed some of it to Dave, saying that any man
who'd ever been tempted by Satan in that way should have disqualified
himself from becoming a priest.  And how terrible it was that people's
trust in their priests to guide and lead them had been misplaced.  And how
starting from this second the Church had to make an effort to weed out
those people weak enough to do these things.

"Really?"

"Yeah."  Dave forced a laugh.  "It was the celibacy thing that got me."
Maybe the truth or maybe not.  Maybe something close to it.  Why couldn't
he ask?  And after Father Frank had said those things he'd put his hand,
large and warm and comforting, on Dave's back and talked about the
different theological colleges, and ways to get scholarships.  And telling
him he'd decided to be a doctor after all had been hard, hard, hard.

There was a sound by the door, and Dave turned around to see Kovac standing
there.  Shit.  Dave did a rapid rewind of everything that had been said,
but he didn't think it was anything too bad.  He made for the door,
avoiding Kovac's eyes.  "Nice talking to you, Bishop."  Damn, damn, damn.

**********************************

The lunch crowd had the cafeteria humming with conversation, but John
didn't really hear any of it as he went through the line and grabbed a
sandwich and a large soda.  His mind was still on the fact that he hadn't
told Kerry about December.  And Abby knew.  She had interrupted him and
Kerry to tell them a trauma was on the way, and then, when the trauma was
over, asked him if he had told Kerry.  He reminded her that she had
interrupted them, but that didn't mollify her.  She still insisted he tell
Kerry.

John paid the cashier, then found a table near in a far corner.  Two of the
four chairs had been cannibalized by diners at other tables, but that
suited John just fine as he didn't feel up to company.

Dave looked around the cafeteria, he had two hamburgers and some fries
ahead of him on his tray, and he'd been told Carter was up here.  A few
seconds of peering, and he had his friend in his sights.  And a few seconds
later he was sliding down into the seat opposite Carter.  "Hey there."
Dave stuffed a fry into his mouth, and spoke around it  "So, how was your
eval?"

John looked up as someone sat at the table, then grinned as he saw it was
Dave.  "How was my eval?"  He had almost forgotten about it.   "It was
fine."

"Hey, great."  Dave grinned and sat back in the chair.  Carter seemed to be
very calm about his results -- they had to be good then -- or maybe not, he
wasn't saying how great he'd done.  But then Carter was used to being told
he'd done great, it probably wasn't a big thing for him.  Dave shrugged,
all this analysis was too hard for him.  He picked up his burger.  "So the
Chief was cool then?  And I gotta get ya those Bulls tickets?"

"Yeah, she was pretty cool about it.  She said that she couldn't find any
fault with my work, but that I did have a bad habit of ignoring what the
Attendings say.  She really meant to say that I have a bad habit of not
listening to Luka Kovac, but she's too PC to say that directly," John took
a bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth as he chewed.

Dave shrugged.  "Kovac's not so bad.  Up himself sometimes, but okay."
Dave took a bite of his burger.  "Ever get him to tell ya any war stories?"

John shook his head and sipped on his soda.  "No.  I had the impression
that he didn't like to talk about his life in Croatia.  Not that I can
blame him on that.  There's nothing worse than having people expecting you
to want to open up and spill your guts over something that hurts you every
time you think about it," John said.  "I don't mean to be disrespectful to
him, I really don't.  I just don't like it when he forgets that I *know*
what I'm doing.  I did a year as a surgical intern and I've been in the ER
long enough to know to look for things that aren't obvious.  Yes, sometimes
my doing that goes against an order he's given me, but if it saves
someone's life then it's worth it."

Dave half made a face to himself.  "Yeah, well you knew you'd get a perfect
eval before ya ever went in there.  Reckon he knows some pretty cool stuff
though.  Not American.  Know in Russia they're using hot water ta treat
cancer?"

John shook his head. "I didn't know that.  I'm a little behind on my
journal reading."  John then remembered something Dave had said.  "Why do
you need to buy me Bulls tickets?"

It hadn't been a medical journal that Dave had picked that little tidbit up
from, but he was happy to sound well-read to Carter.  He took a bite of his
burger, then said.  "Yeah.  Ya know.  'cause of telling the Chief, like ya
said ya would."

"Oh," John muttered.  "You don't have to do that."  He didn't want to admit
to Dave that he hadn't told Kerry.  But he didn't want to lie to him,
either.  "So, tell me about how they use hot water to treat cancer."

Dave grinned.  "Oh, it's majorly cool.  They do it in Siberia.  Ya know,
coldest place on earth 'n all that."  He took a happy bite of his burger.
"Anyhow they get this huge bath of hot water, and they dump the person into
that, they're intubated and all.  And they heat them to 43 Celcius -- till
they're practically dead.  And the sick cells the cancer ones, they die."

"That is cool.  Reminds me of that tank they put Luka Skywalker in after he
nearly froze to death in the second "Star Wars' movie.  He had a breathing
tube and just floated around in that stuff until he healed.  Water can do
wonders for the human body.  And why not?  We float around in it for nine
months before we're born.  Shame they didn't have that years ago, but then
again, it might not work with leukemia," John said right before taking
another bite of his sandwich.

"Yeah.  Think it was tested with brain cancer.  Hey, ya think Greene knows
'bout it?"  Dave took another bite.  "Ya know the best thing?   Whole course
only costs three thousand.  Shit, can ya imagine curing cancer for that
here?  Drug companies'd go broke."

John shook his head.  "You hear so many stories about treatments getting
kicked to the side because they would cure diseases too quickly.  Some of
the stories are just that, stories.  But some of them seem to have some
truth to them.  As for Mark, he's already playing around with one
experimental procedure, but if that doesn't work then maybe he can make a
trip to Russia.  When you're dying there's nothing too impossible to risk
trying."  John couldn't help but think of his own brother dying at such a
young age from cancer and how his parents had gone to drastic lengths to
find a cure for Bobby.

"Yeah, ain't that the truth."  Dave swallowed the last of his first burger
and started on the second.  "But cheap.  Poor people'd be able to get
better.  Course three thousand's a lotta money in Russia."

"It is at that." John grinned.  "If Lydia were here, I'd bet she could tell
us how much that would be in rubles.  She's got a knack for knowing things
like that."

Dave grinned, "Yeah maybe."  He ate another fry, and brought his mind back
to the reason he was here to begin with.  "So, which game you want?"

"For what?"  John took another bite of his sandwich, hoping that Dave
wasn't going back to talking about the Bulls tickets.

"For the tickets, Doofus."  Dave banged his hand against Carter's head.
"Hollow in there or somethin'?"

John jerked back out of Dave's reach.  "I'm not a doofus and my head's not
hollow.  We can talk about this later, all right?"

Dave sat back, affronted for a moment.  "Yeah sure, with all ya perfect
evals and all."  The guy didn't seem to be able to take a joke.  But this
was a friend, a good friend, a friend that it was fun to do stuff with
and...and Dave wanted the lunch to end well.  "So ya got a favourite team,
or just the next game or..."

Shit.  John hated it when Dave took things personally.  And he definitely
didn't want to talk about some stupid Bulls game that he didn't have the
right to attend.  "Or you can tell me what you want to do to celebrate the
perfect evaluation you received.  So, what will it be?  A nice dinner?  A
couple of drinks at your favorite bar?  Whatever you want, I'm up for it."

Dave grinned.  "The Attendings look forward to working with me -- the Chief
said so.  Did I tell you that?"

"I think you mentioned that.  But the Attendings aren't the ones who want
to help you celebrate how great you are," John said with a grin of his
own.  "So, how about it?"

Dave grinned.  "Yeah.  A drink sounds good.  After work today?"   There was
no reason on earth that he couldn't celebrate immediately -- the sooner the
better.  "Tonight?"

"After work is good.  That sports bar we went to before...or the one where
we ran into each other on New Year's Eve?"  John asked with a wicked grin.
"I could even wear the same clothes I wore that night.  Or at least the
same pants."

"Ah..." Dave automatically looked around the cafeteria to check that no-one
had heard, but his eyes didn't see the people in front of him -- they saw
Carter in black leather lace-up pants.  He felt his cock stirring to life,
then caught Carter's eyes for a second before dropping them to his plate,
and swallowing compulsively.

John reached over and grabbed a fry from Dave's tray, then he began to
slowly nibble on the end of it.  "Is that a yes or a no?  Or I can just
come over to your place with some beer and pretzels...and with the pants
on.  Your choice, Dave.  Like I said, I'm willing to do *whatever* you
want."

Dave shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.  He watched Carter eating his fry.
"Sure beer at my place could be good."  He didn't know what to say about
the pants, the idea of seeing Carter in them again was making him hard,
but, but...Carter walking through Chicago in them?  Dave raised his eyes to
meet Carter's.  "Sure, wear them if ya like, I guess."

Eyes locked with Dave's, John sucked the remainder of the fry into his
mouth.  "Sounds good.  Um, should I bring a change of clothes and warn my
grandparents not to worry?"

Dave shrugged, and pushed the rest of his burger into his mouth.   "Um if
ya like.  Shouldn't drive after drinking 'n all."

"Not at all," John agreed.  "And since I'm not used to drinking any more,
there's no telling what a few beers might do to me.  So...any interesting
patients today?"  John picked up his sandwich and finished it off.

Dave smiled.  "I've got this Bishop.  He fell.  Well Kovac's got him, too."

"A Bishop, huh?  He's not bad off, is he?" John asked.

"Waiting for x-rays.  Should be fine."

"Good.  I think my trauma patient will pull through okay.  I'm not so sure
about her mental state though...I was thinking of getting a psych consult
for her."  John said as he thought about how his patient had been willing
to risk dying while transporting drugs out of a foreign country because she
was so desperate to get home.  What would that desperation cause her to do
now that she was back in the U.S., but in the hospital and possibly facing
criminal charges?

"Um.  Whatsherface...Legaspi, the pretty one.  She comes down when ya ask,
not four hours later."

John nodded. "So I've noticed.  Especially if Weaver calls her.  I think
she likes Weaver."  John reached for his drink, making a slurping sound as
he finished off his soda.

Dave shrugged.  "She comes for me, too.  Faster than any of those others."

John grinned.  He was so tempted to tell Dave that he doubted if Kim
Legaspi came for any man, but he knew Dave would be offended by a comment
like that.  Instead, he found the last part of Dave's comment as a reminder
of how long it had taken someone from psych to show up the night Lucy was
stabbed.  His smile gone, John said "You're right about that.  Lucy would
be alive today if DeRaad would have shown up the first time she called
him.  Or if I would have called up there once I knew they weren't going to
rush down just to respond to a med student's request."  John looked away
from Dave, his eyes not really focusing on anything as a wave of guilt
washed over his mind and heart.

Dave looked at the unhappiness on Carter's face.  "Hey, if Legaspi had got
the call she'd've come down on time.  You could have called ten times and
it wouldn't make DeRaad hurry."  Dave shrugged, and pushed his plate with
the remaining fries toward Carter.  "Have another.  Figure it's a good
thing if at least one of 'em comes when paged now.  Better than none."

John shook his head at the offer of the fries.  "You can have them," he
said, pushing the plate back toward Dave.  "I guess there's no sense in
getting worked up over what can't be changed, is there?"

"Been and gone."

"Yep."  John glanced at his watch.  "I better get back to work and get that
call placed up to psych.  What time do you want me to come by?  And do you
want anything else besides beer and pretzels?  I could grab a pizza or
something."

Dave nodded.  "Whenever.  And yeah, pizza sounds good."

"Okay."  John got to his feet and collected the debris from his lunch.   "Do
you want to order it and I'll pick it up?"

Dave grinned.  "I'll trust your judgement."

John grinned back.  "That might be dangerous, Dave.  You have no idea what
I like to eat...on pizza, that is."

*********************************

As soon as Dave was back in the ER, the bishop being there hit him again.
Up in the cafeteria it had seemed fine to laugh and joke.  But here, he
wondered what the Bishop would say if he knew what he and Carter had done.
He wondered what he'd say if he knew that he and Carter were going to
celebrate those evals tonight.  Dave didn't want to know what he'd say.  He
really didn't.

Though, he remembered what Carter had said at lunch.  But there was nothing
wrong with a couple of guys having beers together, nothing at all.  Friends
were good, friends were important -- everyone agreed on that.  Bishop
Stewart couldn't be angry at him for arranging to drink a beer with a
friend, he couldn't.  Father Frank shouldn't be able to be either.  Surely
not.

All the same, as much as Dave repeatedly looked at the exam room's doors
that afternoon, he avoided going in, and kept to the suture room a safe
distance away.  He kept busy putting neat little stitches in people who'd
slipped in the icy weather -- making sure that there was no chance they'd
scar.  No-one could object to that.  No-one.

*********************************

John stood in front of the full-length bathroom mirror and finished lacing
up his pants.  When he first moved in with his grandparents, John had hated
the mirror, but had never gotten up enough nerve to ask them to remove it
from his bathroom.  Once he returned from Atlanta, John found that he
didn't care if it was there.  He just didn't use it.  But he had used it on
New Year's Eve to get ready and he needed it now.  It was a lot harder to
lace up the pants without the help of a good mirror.  Since he would be
wearing his winter overcoat, John didn't see the need to wear a shirt with
long tails to be tucked in.  Instead he had chosen a black T-shirt -- one
devoid of ornamentation.  A shirt that ended just below his waist.  It was
tucked in, but just barely and didn't cover anything important, which was
the look John had been aiming for.  He wanted to take off his coat in
Dave's living room and watch Dave's eyes and cock grow large as Dave
discovered he could plainly see John's cock trapped behind the lacing on
the front of the pants.  John sat down on the lid of the toilet and pulled
on socks, then his riding boots.  They came up to just below his knees,
covering more of his lower leg than his other boots did, but John thought
they looked a little bit better with the T-shirt and pants.  Besides, once
he had his overcoat on, there would only be an inch or two showing between
the hem of the coat and the top of the boots, so he wouldn't feel any
embarrassment while getting to and from the Jeep.

John finally nodded at his reflection, then grabbed his toothbrush, razor
and shaving cream and padded into his bedroom to put them in his overnight
bag.  John already had a change of clothes in there, plus a sleeveless
sweatshirt and sweat pants in case he needed to wear them overnight -- his
suit was in a garment bag, along with a pair of good shoes, so he'd have
something decent to wear to work on Friday morning -- provided Dave asked
him to stay over that long.  Another item in his overnight bag was a large
bottle of lubricant from the stash the 'household' had provided for him.
John had also tossed a box of condoms into the bag, if for nothing else
then to make his grandparents think he was using something for protection.
He had been careless once or twice with women, but never careless when
having sex with other men.  So why was he continuing to have sex with Dave
without condoms?

The only reason John could think of -- and he knew it probably only applied
to himself -- was that he enjoyed Dave's taste.  It was mostly salty, but
there was a hint of sweetness there, too.  John had never tasted another
man's come before Dave and he found himself liking it.  He had almost told
Dave that he had been the first man he tasted, but John didn't think Dave
would believe him.  For some reason, Dave had this image of him as someone
who knew all there was to know about gay sex -- some kind of pro at it or
something, and that was far from the truth.  John knew what he liked --
both doing to someone else and having done to him.  If someone stroked him
a certain way and it felt good then John would mimic that stroke, figuring
it would feel good to the other person as well.  Most of the time he was
right.

But that didn't explain why John continued to make love to Dave without a
condom and also allowed Dave to fuck him without one.  Maybe it had to do
with the fact that Dave had taken him so forcefully on the dance floor on
New Year's Eve.  While John couldn't feel Dave's cock once it had passed
his sphincter muscles, he could feel it at that point, and it did feel
different to have a bare cock there as opposed to one wearing latex.  And
while condoms prevented wet spots on the sheets, they didn't leave him with
the feeling that he had been fully claimed by Dave, or feeling as if parts
of his own body were spreading through Dave's body.  So, while the rational
part of John's brain knew they should be using condoms, the romantic and
irrational side told him to keep things as they were.  As long as he and
Dave were in a monogamous relationship then the only danger was from work,
and if they were regularly tested, then things should be okay.  The only
problem John could see with that scenario was convincing Dave to submit to
regular, as in weekly or bi-weekly, blood tests.  But it was definitely a
topic that would have to be addressed.

But not first thing, John thought.  He wanted -- no, he needed to be
thoroughly fucked by Dave.  John had even stopped on the way home from work
to purchase an enema that he used in the shower to make sure he was
perfectly clean.  A six pack of cold beer had been ordered from a pizza
place near Dave's place.  And so had two large pizzas -- one with cheese
only and one with everything.  John zipped up his bag, then pulled on his
overcoat, buttoning it completely before he stepped out into the hallway.
Once downstairs, he paused outside the door of the study, then he knocked
and stuck his head through to tell his grandparents that he was going out
and would most likely be gone all night and maybe even all day and night
Thursday, since that was his day off.  That news was greeted with smiles
and a question if his cell phone was turned on and the battery charged.
John assured his grandfather that it was, and he was about to close the
door when his grandfather asked him to step into the room.

"Yes, sir?"  John asked nervously, praying that the older man wouldn't
comment on his clothing.

"You realize that the annual charity ball is coming up, don't you?"
Jonathan asked.

"Yes, sir, I do.  I've already asked to have that evening off."  John
wasn't quite sure where the conversation was headed.  He had already told
his Gamma that he'd be there.

"Well, there's no reason why you should feel pressured to find a female
escort for the evening," Jonathan said, looking away from John and over at
his wife.  "You can invite Dr. Malucci.  That is, if you'd like to have him
there with you."

John's mouth nearly fell open as he heard those words.  "I can?  You
wouldn't object?"

"No," Jonathan cleared his throat.  "But there would have to be a
few...guidelines that I'd like followed."

John nodded, then grinned.  "That's not a problem, sir.  Not a problem at
all."

And so John had left the house in a very happy mood as he tried to think of
a way to invite Dave to the charity event and of how reasonable his
grandfather had been about the 'guidelines'.  Those thoughts kept his mind
occupied for some of the trip, but as he got into the city, John found his
mind wandering back over the latter part of his day.  Once more, Abby had
sought him out to ask about Kerry.  He had countered by asking her to go
with him to listen to some blues singer and she had turned him down.  So
much for him being able to do something nice to repay her for all she had
done for him since his return.

They had exchanged words -- he accused her of acting like his mother, she
said she was tired of him not doing what she told him to do.  And then she
quit.  Just like that.  Quit.  And now he had no one to turn to.  No one
who he could talk to who already knew what had happened to him.  It had
been so easy to have Abby as his sponsor -- she knew the details of the
stabbing.  She had known Lucy for a short while.  She knew the basic
details of his addiction.  The thought of opening up to a stranger, of
sharing all of that, scared him shitless.  He didn't want to have to do
that.  That's why he did crossword puzzles during NA and AA meetings.  They
didn't care what he did as long as he was there.  Abby was the only person
who ever commented about him not 'sharing', as if that were some great
thing to do.  Now, Caldecaus Club was different, stricter, and he couldn't
mess around there.  But they didn't ask him to 'share', either.

As much as it hurt to have Abby quit on him, John had still found himself
reluctant to confess things to Kerry.  One thing that didn't help was how
angry she had been when she discovered he had called Kim Legaspi down for a
psych consult.  John had thought that the two women would actually fight,
which he found odd since he had been so sure that Kim liked Kerry.  But
Kerry had backed down and Kim had taken the patient upstairs, so all had
ended well.

But John was haunted by the happy look on Dave's face as he acknowledged
that he owed him tickets to see the Bulls play.  And Abby's words haunted
him as well.  And so, as Kerry was on her way home, John had asked if he
could have a minute of her time.  It had been difficult to start the
conversation, but once he had started, it had been easier.  And Kerry
hadn't immediately jumped down his throat or fired him, so that was a good
sign.  She told him to keep going to meetings while she figured out what to
do.  And that wasn't a good sign.  John had wanted it all over with at once
and now he found himself lost as he wondered what decision Kerry would
reach.  Would he be fired or sent away again?  Or would nothing happen?
John knew the chances of nothing happening were slim to none, but he found
himself hoping that Kerry would tell him that he did well by expelling the
pills and to once more see a therapist.  It wasn't as if he had 'really'
taken the pills, John reasoned.  Yes, he had swallowed them, but as soon as
he realized what he had done, they came right back up.  No Vicodin ever
reached his bloodstream.  None.  Not one bit.  That had to count for
something, or so John hoped.

John pulled to a stop in front of the pizza place, then went in and picked
up the pizzas and beer and a few sodas for himself.  It took him a few
minutes to find a place to park -- he ended up across the street and down
one block from Dave's building, but the pizzas were still hot as John
juggled them, his overnight bag and the bag containing the drinks up to
Dave's apartment.  Not having his hands free, John used his foot to kick at
the bottom of Dave's door, then he waited for Dave to answer.


To be continued