Homeless Once More, Part Nineteen
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com
A John Carter story, rated M15.

"ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No
infringement of their copyright is intended. This story
was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and
may be downloaded for your own pleasure. However this
story may not be used, distributed or archived without the
permission of the author. The poem "Half My Soul" is by
Cathy Roberts and was written March 26, 1995.

The last episode seen was "Point of Origin"

A big thank you to Melissa, my editor who tries her best to
keep me in line and who found information for me on the
sweatlodge ceremony. I would also like to thank Nancy for
suggesting the sweatlodge ceremony to me in the first place
and for sharing her own experience. I have since been advised
that the Cherokee did not use this ceremony, but I have kept
it as a part of the story anyway and make my apologies to the
Cherokee Nation for the discrepancy.



Maggie looked around as the Pow wow began, gratified to find
that she wasn't the only white person present. The Pow wow
was open to all and some of the more adventurous tourists had
chosen to come. There might have been even more people present
if not for the fact the event was beginning in the evening.
Maggie was so caught up in what was going on around her that
at least an hour had passed before she noticed that John and
most of his male relatives were no longer present. She made
her way over to Allie Adair.

"John seems to be missing." Maggie tried to keep the worry
out of her voice, hoping that John's grandmother knew where
he was.

Allie smiled. "He's with his grandfather. There's no need
for you to worry about John, Maggie. He's going to be fine.
You should just enjoy yourself. The dancing will begin soon."

So, Maggie had to resign herself to the fact that for the
evening she was nothing more than a spectator.



John paused outside the simple structure. He had been in the
sweathouse before, years ago while still a teenager. Unlike
the sweatlodges of the prairie tribes, this one had been built
as a permanent structures, but the theory of construction was
still the same and the same religious concerns had governed the
building of the structure.

"Are you ready, John?" his grandfather asked.

John nodded, then followed the older man into the building.
His uncles and cousins were already there, as were some other
men from the tribe. And a few women as well. In the Cherokee
Nation, it was not unusual to find women among the ranks of
shaman. The shaman who would be in charge tonight was a woman,
and also coincidentally, an aunt of John's. John had not
taken any pain medication since that morning, so he was satisfied
that his body was not presently under the influence of any drug.
Taking his seat between his grandfather and Uncle Judd, John
found himself ready to let go of everything he had learned in
medical school and on the job. Tonight was not for the practical.
It was a healing ritual, one that he so desperately needed.
One that he hoped would work. His relatives were certain that
he would find the healing he needed here - not healing of the
body, but healing of his spirit.

The flap that formed the door was closed, and John felt
himself being warmly enveloped by the complete blackness.
Darkness was something he felt comfortable with - it had been
his companion for a long time now. The words of the shaman
were soothing and he could feel his tension begin to melt
away as he immersed himself in the ritual of the ceremony.
Then the flap was opened and the stones were brought in,
glowing red from the fire that roared outside. It almost hurt
his eyes to look upon the stones, they were so bright to him.
Still, he forced himself to look at them, to lose himself in
their simplicity. His soul felt empty and he knew it was
because he had lost his connection to God. Oh, he had never
given up his faith or belief in God. Just his belief that
God had any faith in him. Any interest in him as being of any
worth - other than as a whipping boy.

And yet, as he stared at the glowing rocks, he could almost
hear a voice telling him that he mattered. That all of His
creatures mattered equally to him. Had he been wrong all along
then? If so, then how was it possible for all of the bad to
have happened to him?

"Do you believe in Me?" the voice asked.

"Yes." He thought. I believe. I never stopped believing.

"Then how can you think that I would value you any less than
I value my own Son?" asked the voice.

John had to think about that one for a few minutes. The
crucifixion and Christ were not things he thought about often.
Sure, he had learned about all the facts in Church, but aside
from Sunday School and the morning service, he had not given
it much thought. It was just something that the minister
talked about a few times a year. Couldn't have Christianity
without Christ and the crucifixion, right? But, John had
never really thought about it. The fact that God had sent his
own Son to live on earth, make friends, and love his family
only to die. And not just die from a disease, no, he died
horribly. Painfully. As a physician John knew how crucifixion
killed. It was not an easy death. And through it all, God
had turned his back on his Son, ignoring his cries. John's
father had been there to prevent Litvak from continuing with
the assault. He had even killed him and now he had to live
with that on his conscience for the rest of his life. So
would Kerry and her brother, Adam. So would he. If not for
him, then Dan Litvak would be alive right now. And if not for
Dan Litvak, then he would be whole right now. Or would he?
He had been so busy lately blaming his problems on Litvak that
he had forgotten how he had felt before Litvak had come to
Chicago. His own personal pain - his Hell on earth. His tears
began to mingle with the steam that was now permeating the
sweathouse.

"I'm sorry I doubted You," he murmured.

"All is forgiven. Now you need to forgive those who have
harmed you. And mostly, you need to forgive yourself," answered
the voice.

But, could he forgive them? John knew it was important to at
least think about doing so.

As John stared through the white mist, images began to
materialize above the stones. The first image to take a
recognizable form was that of Dan Litvak. John swallowed hard.
His mind knew that Litvak was dead and unable to harm him, but
he still felt a great fear as he looked into that face. He
felt a comforting hand upon his arm and heard his grandfather
whisper "It's all right, John. You are not alone here."

John willed his body to stop trembling and made himself stare
into those lifeless eyes. "You cannot hurt me any longer.
Leave me alone. Leave my dreams alone," John thought. The
image wavered in front of him, then rose into the air,
dissipating in the steam. John closed his eyes, feeling a
peace settle upon him.

As the ceremony progressed, he faced many images, some of
which were of no surprise to him: Dennis Gant, previous
patients, Robert Carter. Not all of them were people he
needed to forgive. Most of them were people he had hurt.
Patients he couldn't save. Dennis. He had been a poor friend
to Dennis and he often wondered if Dennis Gant would still be
alive today if he had been a better friend to him.

Then there were the images of those that made him think: his
parents, Chase and Bobby. It was seeing Bobby that took him
aback the most. Bobby had never done anything to hurt him,
or had he? Hadn't Bobby's death triggered his parents' flight -
their abandonment of him and Barbara? If he were honest with
himself, John would have to admit that there were times when
he was angry with Bobby for dying. Angry because he left him
behind. There were also times when he was angry with himself
because there had not been anything he could do to save his
brother's life. That same anger would bubble up whenever he
lost a patient, staying just below the surface of his sadness.

Chase had betrayed him by turning to drugs for fortitude and
escape. John had managed to face his grandfather and his
demands; he had stood his ground regarding his future. Why
hadn't Chase found the backbone to do the same? And yet, for
all the anger he felt over Chase turning to drugs, there was
that same sense of failure with him. Despite all of his medical
training, he had not been able to save Chase from himself.
That had cut him deeply, but he could see that his Uncle Branch
was correct in that Chase was the one ultimately responsible
for his own actions.

His parents were an enigma to him. He loved them so much but
he was afraid to let them know that. They had left him behind,
stuck him away in a boarding school so that he wouldn't be
underfoot. Some of his anger was directed at his father for
that. He could have come here to live with his grandfather
Adair and been surrounded by love. At least his father had
not sent him to live with his grandfather Carter. Boarding
school had certainly been better than that. But, putting him
and Barbara into boarding school and leaving them there had
only made Jenny's depression deepen. She had needed her children
most at the time when Roland had taken them away. John felt
so angry with his father about that.

His anger for his mother was more because of her allowing his
father to have his way for all these years. In his mind, she
was as much a victim of his decisions as he and Barbara were,
but at least she had the power to prevent all that had happened.
She had chosen not to use it.

But, no matter how angry he felt with his parents, John could
not dismiss the love he had for them. He was grateful that
they were trying to stay in Chicago more, but he was hesitant
to believe that it would continue. There had been too many
times in his past when he had gotten his hopes up only to see
them die. Not believing them now was his way of hurting them back.

Barbara's face was there as well. He dearly loved her, but
felt jealous that she could cast aside all of the hurt. She
had always done what she wanted, not caring what he or their
parents thought about it. She had no regard for rules or
the way her actions would affect other people. What he wouldn't
give at times to be able to do that. But, it wasn't in his
nature to disregard others. It never had been and it never
would be. Being alive meant that you had responsibilities
to your fellow man and creatures. One didn't take life lightly
and a person didn't go through life unmindful of the
consequences of one's actions.

As the hours passed and he sat through the cycles of the
ceremony, John watched many faces form and dissipate before
him. On his knees before God, he prayed for forgiveness and
he gave forgiveness to those who had harmed him both intentionally
and unintentionally. He even found himself forgiving himself
for not being a good enough friend to Dennis Gant. He forgave
himself for being human and fallible. John could feel the
tension leave his body as each image dissolved and he could
feel a calmness replace that tension. As his grandfather
poured cool water over him and the last of his sweat had
returned to the earth, he felt whole again. It was a heady
feeling, for he had not felt that way in such a long time.

The shaman opened the flap and held it back. It was dawn and
as John stepped through the doorway, he could see the sun
beginning to crest the edge of the mountain. It was a new day
and a new beginning. A sudden flapping of wings startled him
and he looked up to the roof of the sweathouse in time to see
a snow-white dove hurl itself into the sky. He watched as it
soared high, much higher than a dove should fly. He smiled
and turned to his grandfather, wrapping himself up in the
blanket offered him.

John Adair smiled broadly at the change in his grandson and
namesake. This was not the same man who had pulled up to the
house the night before. This wasn't even the same man he had
seen a few years back, when John had missed his graduation,
but still ended up spending time with his family the next day.
This man had grown and matured. What had happened to him in
his life and most especially recently had been horrible and
sad, but it had made him a stronger person. John Carter would
never break; he would always endure.



My soul existed long before I met you,
But, it was never quite whole.
Then your soul became one with mine,
Strangers became friends ever true.

From time to time fear slips inside me,
A fear of death and loneliness.
It would tear my heart apart to lose half my soul;
I would feel only devastation if you left me.

The good that your death would bring,
You rate on a balance sheet.
You never think about the heartache
Your death would mean: the pain and suffering.

Never let it slip from your control
Just how much you mean to me.
My life would be shattered, empty;
It would tear my heart apart to lose half my soul.

Kerry was tempted to rip the page from her notebook and throw
away the poem. Every now and then she felt compelled to sit
and put words to paper, but she didn't know where this had come
from. Today the compulsion had been almost painful by the time
she reached home. Sitting down at the desk in her room, she
had quickly written the poem, but now she had no idea why. She
reached out and picked up the most recent postcard from John -
this one from Washington, D.C. and postmarked the day after the
one she had gotten from Ohio. She wondered what tomorrow's
mail would bring? Would it be another from the D. C. area or
maybe one from North Carolina? John had called her before she
went to work last night, telling her that he and Maggie had
gone to visit his mother's family in Cherokee. He went on to
tell her how much she would like visiting that area of North
Carolina. She smiled as she remembered the excitement in his
voice as he told her about dragging Maggie out in the predawn
hour so she could see the sunrise from the mountain. When she
heard that they had hiked up the mountain to do that, she felt
like screaming at him for being so careless as to attempt that
in his medical condition, but she held her tongue. Obviously,
he was all right. Besides, she knew that Maggie wouldn't let
anything happen to him. Her eyes returned once more to the
poem and she knew exactly where it had come from. The emptiness
in her heart and the way she longed for any word at all from
John were telling her more than she wanted to know about her
feelings for John. Once, she had been content to be his friend,
but now, now she wanted so much more than that. She knew she
would never get it though. John didn't feel that way about her.
She was too old for him, surely someone younger would be better
suited to his tastes. So, why then did she dream about him
standing in front of her, clad only in a towel and waiting for
her touch? She sighed, then closed her notebook and crawled
into bed, wondering what John would be doing today.



Lucy Knight opened her locker, feeling better than she had in
a long time. She hung up her lab coat, then put on her winter
jacket and grabbed her purse. She had just ended a conversation
with Doug Ross and Carol Hathaway - a conversation that had
given her renewed hope. Maggie Doyle was a lesbian and had no
romantic feelings for John Carter. He could be hers if she
wanted him, and there was no mistaking the fact that she wanted
him very much. Whistling happily to herself, she headed out
into the wintry day, her mind going over the many possible
methods she could use to show John how much she cared.



Back in North Carolina, Maggie was seated at the breakfast
table, still feeling more than a little stunned about what had
happened to John overnight. When he had returned to the
farmhouse with his family, clad only in swimming trunks, sandals
and a blanket, she had gone ballistic. She had told his family
off in no uncertain terms, angry with them for endangering his
health. The more they just stood there, smiling at her, the
angrier she became. Then she finally ran out of steam and took
a good look at John. What she had seen in his face and eyes
left her speechless. He had winked at her and told her that
everything was going to be all right from now on and that she
shouldn't worry about his health. She had insisted on examining
him anyway, finding out that his pulse, respiration and blood
pressure were all within normal range. When she had listened
to his heart, she had been surprised to see that his surgical
scars had faded to thin white lines and were no longer red.
He had admitted to being tired, but not in any pain, and he had
gone straight to bed. The rest of the men had also gone
upstairs to sleep. Now, Maggie was sitting in the kitchen,
trying to make sense of the answers that the women had given
to her questions. She had never heard of sweathouses or
sweatlodges. She had never much believed in the mystical,
especially where healing was concerned. Now, she was having
to reevaluate all she knew and believed. All that she had been
taught in medical school. Perhaps the nuns and priests had
not been so far off the mark as she had always thought, wishing
she had paid more attention during Mass.



At noon, Maggie and John were back on the road. Since Cherokee
was only 150 miles north of Atlanta, it wouldn't be a long
trip. They would have time to find a nice hotel, get something
to eat and then John could call the Gants to let them know he
was in town. His previous apprehensions about seeing Mr. and
Mrs. Gant had faded and now he found himself eager to see them
and to share memories of Dennis with them. After last night,
he knew he didn't need to go to Atlanta, but he still wanted to.

"So, what was it like in the sweathouse? Or are you allowed
to tell me?" Maggie asked.

"I can tell you about what happened to me. You'll probably
laugh at me though."

"I'll try not to laugh. I promise." She glanced over at him
and flashed him a quick grin.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "God spoke to me."

Maggie looked back at him, seeing that he was serious. "God?
As in the Almighty?"

John nodded. "Yeah. He spoke to me. It was - awesome. There
were other things going on, too. I saw the faces of those I
had wronged in the past, the people who I needed to receive
forgiveness from. I also saw the faces of those who had wronged
me and who I needed to forgive. The really strange part is
that it felt as if I was only in there for an hour or less,
not half the night."

"So, what did God say to you?"

"He told me that He had never forgotten me and that all was
forgiven. All that remained was for me to forgive myself."

"And you're sure it wasn't just your imagination or a
hallucination?"

John shook his head, "There were no drugs involved, Maggie.
It was real. The main point behind the ceremony is to
reconnect with the Creator and the earth. Water and heat
create the steam, making us sweat, and then water is poured
over our bodies to help our sweat return to the earth. It's
an unbroken cycle."

"You make it sound pretty simple."

"The cycle of life is simple, Maggie. We're just usually too
busy to pay attention to its simplicity." John wasn't sure
if he should mention the faces he saw as the ceremony came to
an end. The first face was not clear, but it shone brightly
through the darkness of the sweathouse. So brightly that John
had to close his eyes and even then, he could still see the
brightness through his eyelids. There was no doubt whatsoever
in his mind that he was looking upon the face of God. But,
how could he tell that to Maggie? She was having a difficult
enough time with the entire healing concept and his assertion
that he and God had spoken with each other.

The second face had brought an even greater warmth to his
heart. It was Kerry's face, pure in its radiance. So, why
was he heading south when the most important thing in his life
was to the north? He knew the answer to that - he had to close
the circle. He would visit Dennis' grave, share memories with
his parents and hopefully bring comfort to them. He would then
go to Philadelphia and wish Anna well with her life, whether
it be with Max or someone else. He knew it wouldn't be with
him and he was no longer pained by that knowledge.

Maggie ended the long silence by asking "So, you and Kerry
Weaver, huh?" She was grinning from ear to ear and more than
willing to tease John about his inadvertent admission
regarding his feelings for Kerry.

"I have no idea, Maggie. I can only tell you how I feel
about her."

"And that is?"

"I like her a lot. She's bright, sensitive, caring, and warm.
She's a good friend and a wonderful cook. I find it very easy
to live in the same house with her."

"Are talking about the same Kerry Weaver here? The bitch of
the E.R.? Drill master? Unrelenting, stern, no sense of humor."

"Kerry has a great sense of humor. It's just that most people
don't expect humor from her for some reason, so when she does
joke with them, they don't get it."

"Well, at least you're breaking away from the norm," she grinned.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"From what I've seen and heard, you usually go after the cute
blondes."

"And you have a problem with that? If I remember correctly,
the ex-girlfriend of yours at the firing range was a blonde."

"She was also a cop."

"So? My women have been doctors, except for Roxanne, who
certainly wasn't dumb, either. I don't think I like the way
you're insinuating that blondes are dumb just because they're
blonde. My grandmother is one of the most intelligent women
I know and she's a blonde."

"I wasn't trying to say that blondes are dumb. I hate
stereotypes and you, of all people, should know that. I was
just saying that you usually pursue blondes."

"And implying that there's something wrong with that as well.
Some men lean toward women with long legs. Some like women
with big breasts. Some like brunettes, and some like blondes.
Is that a crime? If I meet a wonderful woman, should I tell
her to take a hike if she also happens to have blonde hair?"

Maggie angrily sighed, "I wasn't saying that, either. Just
forget it. You obviously have no intention of allowing me to
explain myself."

"Fine, I'll forget it. I just cannot understand why you think
there's something wrong in liking a particularly hair color on
a person."

"There's nothing wrong with it." Maggie had to work hard to
keep from shouting at him. "I just...oh, forget it, all right?"

"Fine," he snapped.

"Good," she snapped back.

"So, you admit that Anna is smart?"

"I never said she wasn't!" This time Maggie did raise her voice
and immediately regretted it. Just because John had gone
through some mystical healing ritual, it didn't mean he was
emotionally capable of handling her yelling at him. She then
heard a strange noise from his side of the car and when she
glanced to the side, she saw that he was trying to keep from
laughing out loud at her.



The minute he saw her looking at him, John could no longer
control himself. He burst out in laughter. "Sorry. It was
just so easy to get you riled up about that."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Seriously, John, I do not think that
blondes are dumb bimbos and I don't think there's anything
wrong with you favoring a particular set of physical attributes.
I prefer blondes, too."

"So, I noticed," John said with a smile. Then he turned serious.
"Although, there was a time when I wished you would have
preferred brunettes. Male brunettes to be exact."

"And I wished that you would have been a woman," Maggie replied.
"But, neither wish ever came true, huh?"

"Nope. Just as well I guess. I might have missed out on having
you for a friend if all that sex stuff ended up getting in
the way."

"Thanks. I like having you for a friend, too. So, when do
you want to stop for dinner?"

"Maggie, we've only been on the road for thirty minutes. How
about if we just hold off and have dinner in Atlanta?"

"Well, I'm hungry now, so I'll find a place to get something
to eat. Check out the exit signs for me, okay?"

"Sure. What are you looking for?"

"Something that doesn't have meat. Heck, I'll even settle for
chips and a soda right now."

"That I can look for. Gas station, next exit."

"Oh, you're good, John," she jokingly replied.

He grinned, "I know."



By seven that evening, they had arrived in Atlanta, found a
hotel, checked in and unpacked, then gone out for a leisurely
meal and returned to their hotel.

Now it was time for John to call Mr. and Mrs. Gant to see if
they would be home the following day. Mr. Gant was surprised
and then delighted that John was in Atlanta. Mrs. Gant, who
John had never met, but often spoke with on the telephone when
he and Dennis were roommates, lightly chewed him out for not
calling earlier so that he and Maggie could have come over for
supper. She made him promise to be at the house no later
than eleven the next morning so they could have Sunday dinner.
John agreed, got directions to the house, then hung up. He let
Maggie know what the plans were for the next day, then they went
out to go see a movie. Even though staying with John's family
in North Carolina had been nice, they were still tired of sitting
around hotel rooms. The nearby mall was bustling and since they
had to wait thirty minutes for the movie to begin, they had time
to sit and watch the people go by.

"Aw man, would you look at that? I hope I was never that
obvious when I used to cruise the mall," Maggie said, inclining
her head toward a group of teenage girls. The girls couldn't
have been much older than sixteen, but each of them were
dressed as if it were spring and not winter outside. And the
equally young boys noticed every detail.

"I never cruised the malls." John made a wry face. "There
wasn't one in the town where the boarding school was located.
Just a small shopping center with an ice cream shop, pizzeria
and one movie theatre. Very boring. Not that a mall would
have made that much of a difference as far as dating went.
The only girls around who were my age were also attending
the same school."

"You sound like you didn't like school too much."

"I didn't like being sent away. I think that deep down
inside, I'm a homebody," he grinned. "Granted, I enjoy
getting out on the water and sailing, but to me, the best
part of traveling is coming home."

"I like to travel, not that I ever get a chance to do a lot
of it. I would love to be able to just take off for Europe
and not have to worry about being back to work by a certain
time. Maybe I should have done that before I started college."

"I dunno. Europe's all right, but it's not home."

"You are a homebody, aren't you?" she grinned at him.

"Guilty as charged. So, where did you go to college?"

"Chicago. I wasted close to a year in nursing school. Ended
up dropping out because I couldn't handle the idea of taking
orders. I still had my heart set on medicine though, so I
decided to be a doctor."

"Why did you want to be a doctor?"

Maggie shrugged, "My Mom was a nurse and I admired what she
did. It made me want to help people in any way I could. I
thought at first that being a nurse would be the best way to
do that. The nurses are always with the patients and do so
much for them. So, when my nursing dream went bust, I decided
that if I couldn't give TLC to people, then I would do my best
to heal them. What about you? Why did you want to be a doctor?"

"When my brother Bobby was diagnosed with leukemia, my parents
took him all over Chicago and the United States in an attempt
to beat the cancer. Bobby was determined to have me with him,
so I ended up going to every doctor visit and every hospital
visit for chemo. I can't remember a single doctor not being
genuinely concerned about Bobby. And me. Most of them paid a
lot of attention to me, making sure I understood what was going
on with Bobby, telling me that I was a big comfort to him.
They did their best to put Bobby at ease, even when it was
apparent that he was dying. He wanted to die at home and not
in the hospital and his doctors made sure that could happen.
They came out to the house several times a day, including the
day he died. They made a difference to Bobby and to me and I
wanted so much to be like them. To be the kind of person who
actually made a difference in the life of someone else.
That's one of the reasons why I left surgery - I didn't feel
as if I could do that as a surgeon. Sure, surgeons save lives
all the time, but they don't hold their patients' hands. They
cut and run."

"I know I was a little hard on you when you had to redo your
internship, but I kinda admired the way you stuck it out in
order to get what you wanted. A lot of people would have
said "no way" and gone running back to surgery."

"Even if Anspaugh would have let me go back, I don't know if
I would have wanted to. After Dennis died, I realized that
life was too short to live based on what other people wanted.
I had resisted my grandfather's attempts to go into business,
sticking to my desire to be a doctor. But, I ended up going
into the area of study that my father wanted me to pursue. I
never wanted to be a surgeon. It was just easier to go after
the harder specialty in an effort to make my Dad happy than to
stand up and say that it wasn't what I wanted. Once I knew
that I didn't want to be a surgeon, I was determined to be the
type of doctor I wanted to be, no matter what it took."

Maggie gave him a quick hug and a smile. "And the day you
decided that was a good day for a lot of people John. I really
mean that."

He smiled back, "Thanks. I think that day you dropped out of
nursing school was a good one for a lot of people, too."

"Why thank you," she grinned. Looking at her watch, she jumped
to her feet. "We had better get going or we won't have time to
get snacks before the movie starts."

"Popcorn?" John asked, hoping that they could share a large tub
of the buttery kind.

"Of course. And some Sweet Tarts."

"Goobers."

"And large sodas."

John grinned, "What happened to Ms. Healthy?"

"Ms. Healthy takes a long hike when it's movie time, buddy.
Let's go."



Kerry had been pleasantly surprised when Adam had shown up at
her door. He was still waiting to be transferred to the Chicago
area, but his flights in and out of the city were getting more
frequent. He had continued to date Randi, so whenever he was
in town he divided his time between her and Kerry. Many nights
were spent on Kerry's couch, but lately he had been staying
overnight with Randi. Since Kerry had not yet begun to prepare
supper, he took her out to eat, not liking the sad look in her
eyes and wanting to find out why it was there.

"So, how are things going with you?" he asked as they waited
for their salads.

"Fine. It's busy at work with Maggie and John both suspended."

"And at home?"

"Quiet. Very quiet. I don't think I realized just how much
I enjoyed having John for company until he wasn't there anymore."

"You make it sound as if he isn't coming back."

"He came so close to dying, Adam. So damn close to not being
there anymore."

"But he didn't die. He's very much alive and, from what you
told me before, he has no intention of moving out."

Kerry finally smiled, "That's true. I hate breaking in new
roommates. You wouldn't believe how much work is involved in
teaching someone how to properly operate my stereo."

"It's never seemed difficult to me."

"That's because you've never bothered to ask me how to do it
properly. You just mess with it."

"Guilty as charged," he laughed. The waitress brought their
salads and then they were alone once more. "So, can I ask you
a personal question?"

"Maybe," Kerry smiled up at him, then bent her head to look at
her salad. She had a funny feeling that Adam was going to ask
her about John and she didn't want her eyes giving her away.

"You've become quite fond of John, haven't you?"

"I like John. He's a wonderful man. He's helpful and
considerate. And he never, ever thought about touching my
stereo." She finally looked up at her brother and grinned.

Adam smiled and nodded. He knew Kerry too well to not be able
to tell what she wasn't saying. She was more than fond of John.
He wondered if he should tell Randi that she was right on the
money with her assumption that Kerry and John were falling in
love. To his knowledge, Randi had been very discreet regarding
what he shared with her regarding his family, and most
especially, Kerry. Maybe Randi would have some helpful hints
on how he could convince Kerry that she should share her
feelings with John.

"Okay. Next personal question. How's your search going for
your birth mother?"

Kerry sighed. She had hoped that things would happen a lot
faster than what they were and she told him that.

"I'm sure that you'll here something soon, sis. I just hope
that you aren't disappointed when you do."

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take. Ah, here come our
steaks now."

They enjoyed their dinner and each other's company for the
rest of the evening. After Adam dropped her off at the house,
Kerry didn't feel quite as lonely as she had before. Still,
she longed to hear footsteps on the basement stairs and hungered
to hear John's voice asking her if she had a good time while out
with Adam. Just how much time would it take for him to do all
he wanted as far as visiting people went? Two weeks or all
four weeks of his suspension? She was hoping for one week, but
didn't think that was a reasonable time frame. Then again, she
wasn't feeling very reasonable right now either.

Needing something to keep her hands and mind occupied, she
headed for the kitchen. It was time to do some serious cooking.
Not that anything would go to waste. She did have a freezer
that she could fill. Wishing that she wasn't off for the night,
she grabbed her cookbooks and set about to make the most difficult
dish she could find. Tomorrow morning she would be back on
days and she looked forward to dealing with the hectic ER then.
It kept her mind off of John and she needed that. Of course,
there were still those moments when a trauma came in and she
had to bite her tongue to keep from asking one of the nurses to
get him to help. Or looking for him in the lounge when she did
have a spare moment.

"This has got to stop, Kerry," she said to the kitchen. "You
cannot allow yourself to become obsessed with a friend.
Remember that." Within minutes, she was taking her obsession
out on innocent vegetables, cutting and dicing them into
submission. If only it were that easy to handle her feelings
for John, she thought. Then everything would be all right.

She paused in the middle of cutting a tomato. No, everything
would be even better if she didn't have to handle her feelings
for him. If he returned those feelings. She shook her head.
No more useless daydreaming about John Carter. Determined to
keep her mind on her task, she banished her daydreams. Now, if
only she could find it as easy to banish those invasive and
erotic night dreams she kept having about him.