Walking After You
Part Three - Giving the Girl a Break
By Kitty
angelpixiedust@bolt.com

Hey. Yes it's me again. I'd really like to thank anyone out there who has read up until this point. You're a lot braver than most people.

This is the continuation, albeit not the conclusion of "Walking After You," and "Everyone's a Victim." So if you haven't read any of those, I suggest you do. Once again, I will apologize profusely for any character or medical errors that I have unduly made. I'm not a doctor, and I haven't seen every episode of ER, so be gentle.

And no, I have not made any small fortune with these stories... They are just here for people to read. And nor do I plan to mass market them, or use them to give ER a bad name. I'm just an avid watcher of the series, and have absolutely nothing to do with its company, or stars. Well, I think that is it, so read on...

This bed feels like heaven, Carter thought, as he sunk onto his ultra soft bed sheets. Exam beds had been slowly eating away at his back. His body seemed to settle quickly, and he could feel his muscles loosen. After the longest shift in the world, sleep, on his bed, seemed like the most glorious idea ever.

He tried to cleanse his mind of all its thoughts, so that he could just sleep. But thoughts have a bad habit of irritating you, when you least need them.

After Pablo had serenaded them all on his way home, he couldn't stop thinking about what Pablo had said. About him and Amy. And the way his mind had raced, perversely, he added, when he had said it. Jesus Christ, all he wanted to do was become a good Doctor, perform a few miracles, marry, have kids, and then live happily ever after. Didn't he already know that work and love just did not mix? So why now, was he thinking about the YOUNG girl, that he was TEACHING- two very big no-no's that he was attempting to screw with. Jesus Christ, Carter, get a life. A sex life. A sex life with females that are not under your supervision...well under your Doctoral supervision. Anyhow, she is not yours, and never will be, so stop it already, Carter thought to himself.

He was slipping into unconsciousness when he heard some scuffling. Nope, it was knocking, coming from his front door. He looked down at his watch, just to remind himself that he was not dreaming, and that someone really was knocking at his door at just over midnight. "I'm coming," he managed to mutter, more at himself than at his visitor.

He stumbled across his bedroom floor, and wiped a tired hand across his hair and face, so as not to scare whoever was stupid enough to wake him up, and opened the door.

"Amy?" He heard his voice squeak at the young girl clinging onto the doorframe for support.

She was smiling manically, adorning a lovely red bruise across her right eye. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she could barely stand up. OK, he clarified to himself; Amy is at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, pissed as a fart. "How do you respond?" A little voice in the back of his head asked him with glee.

She on the other hand seemed happy to see him, and it was only then that he notice her tear stained cheeks. "Heya Carter thought maybe I would say hi." She paused giggling at him, "I wake you or something?"

"What happened?" Seems to be the only thing that he could say. He stood against the wall, motioning for her to come in.

"I drove down here," Amy paused following him into his house, "I don't know anyone else...had no place...I'm so sorry...."

She giggled as she crashed against his Hi-fi system. What am I supposed to say, he thinks; that asshole fucked with you didn't he? No. You've been driving around Chicago like that? No, not that one either. "You want a seat Amy?" She nodded softly, falling onto his settee.

Alcohols a funny thing, some people use it to hate people, and some people use it to escape from people. "I maybe, should go some place else," She said after much silent deliberation, and she attempted to get up, falling almost immediately.

He steadied her up, "And how do you plan on going any place else?"

She smiled, "My car-"

He shook his head, sitting her down next to him. "You're not going any where. In fact, you're staying right where I can see you."

She seemed to understand, and lied back against his couch. "I owe you big guy," she slurred playfully.

Big guy, huh? He smiled. "Wanna see what's on TV...?"

"You know what my fantasy is?" Amy slurred matter-of-factly. Carter grimaced, this was going to be one of those things she'd regret saying in the morning. She smiled reaching around for another drink. "I go to bed with a guy (she began to sober up) and...ok he maybe has to be cute...and a nice butt is always a pleasure y'know...but I want him to wake up the next morning, look at me and smile." She laughed at her own loneliness.

He glanced at her; hair a mess, mascara in little puddles below her eyes, a bruise slowly forming around one, and felt the urge to hug her. He mentally scolded himself, now was not the time Sex talk and alcohol did not mix. "You feeling hungry? Because I could sure kill for a bologne sandwich"

"Go on John," Amy urged playfully. "I told you mine."

Carter sighed. His fantasies? Another topic to avoid. "Like I said a bologne sandwich sounds pretty attractive."

Amy giggled. "Sexually?"

He smiled, "Sexual fantasies huh?"

"Yeah, illicit desires and stuff." She leant forward, watching him expectantly.

He restrained himself from observing the eyeful the low-cut dress allowed. "How about a fresh, juicy, overly endowed...bologne sandwich?" He said getting up and walking towards the kitchen. "You want one?"

Amy laughed and shook her head. Now that Carter was gone she could sprawl herself out over the couch. She scanned the room, no TV, no girlfriend, and no pet animals, she had all those things and yet she was constantly lonely. John must get pretty sick of himself she pondered. She pressed the play button on his tape player. A smoochy jazz tune began to play; she put the volume up and began to sway her hips slowly to it. She had to concentrate really hard to stop from falling over.

John was being nice to her. No, it wasn't nice. John was being a friend. Something she hadn't had in a long time. She smiled at how peculiar that sounded John and Amy friends. She laughed running another hand though her curly hair, inviting an imaginary partner to dance. He accepted graciously, they curtsied and began dancing.

Carter couldn't shake off the feelings of attraction he was feeling towards her. Every time she gave off one of her feminine, sexy giggles, he had to remind himself just who she was, and who he was. Relationships between interns and teaching residents were forbidden by hospital policy, and not to mention her boyfriend. Her boyfriend? They'd had an argument, and now she had a contusion the size of Russia across her eye from a door. If that asshole had touched a single hair on her soft skin, he would skin the rat alive. He couldn't stop replaying the fact that she had trusted him enough, to come to him, when she needed someone.

He walked into the room to find Amy dancing to one of his Duke Ellington CDs with an imaginary partner. He watched her for a second, the way she moved, her body, she's forbidden he repeated to himself. But that only seemed to make her more appealing to him.

She turned to face Carter. Her blue eyes catching his, "He's cute," he mouthed to her. She giggled losing balance, and falling onto the couch. Her body seemed to relax there, and she closed her eyes, shutting herself off from the outside world. "Tired," She mumbled fatigued, already falling into a peaceful sleep. She clutched one of the pillows to her chest, and he couldn't help but wish she were clutching him.

"Long day huh?" he asked her softly.

She nodded, mumbling something about a lady with abdominal pains, heart monitors, Jamie, and him. He didn't catch it. She inhaled sharply, allowing a few tears to fall. He put the sandwiches down and sat down as close to her as he could. He put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her to rest in his lap. She smiled.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. He was not too sure what she was sorry about, but he accepted, holding her closer.

"Get some sleep," he urged her, brushing away stray hair, and tears.

She was silent for a few minutes. "Thank you," she mouthed gently.

He looked down at her. Boy was she a sight for sore eyes. Her red hair was scattered around her face, dry tears, and mascara staining her features. Her right eye was a swollen purple, and he hoped to God that she had been telling him the truth. He stroked her hair for a second, wishing he could ease her pain. Knowing that he couldn't.

He replayed tonight's events in his head. Jamie seemed like a decent guy, yet the whole running into a door thing didn't add up. It could only mean that he had hit her. Anger bubbled up inside him at the mere mention of that. "Asshole," He whispered.

Amy shifted uneasily on his lap. He watched her, as she raised a hand to her head. Her hangover kicking in. She opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. On seeing him she jumped up quickly.

"Morning," he murmured, watching her watch him.

"Morning John," she replied sounding tired and slightly embarrassed.

"Coffee?" He offered, trying to break the awkward silence. He got up and left her to think, and wake up. He had to bring the Jamie subject up, he told himself. If something was happening between them that shouldn't be, then something had to be done.

Christ, this is not good, she thought aloud. She had spent the night with John, no doubt acting like a complete drunken fool. She tried to recall last night's events, counting the list of embarrassing behavior that might be giving her such a sore headache. Cried a little, nothing major. She calmed down, pulling her shoes on. She had a shift later on in the day, so she could try and catch some more sleep before then.

She hoped he didn't want an explanation; for the eye, the argument, the fact that she had come knocking on his door, drunk and in tears, in the middle of the night. He just seemed like the only person that she could talk to. Jamie must have hit me really hard, she thought silently, if I came running to Carter, Mr. Obey Me or Die...she smiled thinking about the way he had held her last night. No, Carter wasn't all bad.

"Hey," Carter threw at her as they both entered the Emergency Department, "About last night-"

"Look John, I apologize for putting you out like that, and..."She hesitated as they drew up to the lounge area. Carter eyed her expectantly, his eyes searching hers. She drew up to him, now only a few inches separating them. He smelt the dew on her hair, from the rain outside, and had to avoid her eye contact embarrassed by thoughts that were slowly settling on him. I could kiss her, he thought. I'm that close.

"Carter, I also wanted to-"

Dave interrupted them both with his impish smile. They returned it, Amy raising a hand to cover her right eye.

Carter left them to enter the lounge, obviously a little anxious to talk to her. Timing, Amy muttered to herself. I really have to work on that.

"Ouch." Dave said, making a face. "Walk into a door?"

He reached out to touch it. She tensed, taking a step back. "It's nothing really. Fell out of bed on the wrong side. As usual. It looks a lot worse than it really is."

Carter poured his second coffee of the morning. Watched the window again, Amy and Dave still chatting. How long had it been now? Five minutes? Ten minutes? He had a feeling that she was about to let him in. Confide in him about something important. And now that feeling was slowly escaping him. Come on, Dave; find some other chick to hustle. They're just as close as we were he thought with envy. Back off Dave. You have no idea what she's been through.

Talking about backing off, listen to yourself. Give the girl a break. She doesn't need to be crowded by people. Whatever's wrong with her life, I'm sure she can handle it. If she couldn't then I'm sure she would say something...or would get close to saying something if dopey, jerks would leave her alone already. He threw another glance at both of them and then at his watch, taking a seat.

Several minutes, and half a coffee later Amy entered. She gave him a smile; he gave her a smile. "So..."

She sighed sitting down next to him, " so...I guess I just wanted to say thanks... Not just about last night, but, I appreciate the fact that you didn't question me." She raised a hand to her eyes, "and the real reason behind the bruise, and my disturbing your sleep." She lowered her hands, and he could see her eyes filling with tears. "It was my fault really. I just-shouldn't have-needed to..."

She was now sobbing and he welcomed her into his arms, repeating all the soothing things that he had told her last night. He could sense the relief she was feeling in doing this, her body relaxing against his. "Amy it's Ok. I won't let him come near you again. I 'm here now, nobody's going to hurt you."

She leant back a little, and he smoothed away her hair. They eyed each other for a moment, their lips separated by only a few inches, and she smiled again. "I guess I better get home..." she looked away, "and you, um, you better get started or you'll have a Weaver on your back..."she wiped away her tears, getting up quickly. "I'll try and catch a bite to eat with you on tonight's shift, ok?" She smiled again, "thanks, John," she said leaning in and planting a kiss on his cheek.

She left. He looked around a little mystified. What exactly just happened? Had she told him anything? She had told him that she could trust him, and he felt good about that. God, all she sees in me is a friend, someone to talk to. No more than that.

Stop thinking about her already, Carter scolded himself. Stop thinking about that very same girl that has made you feel the violent urge to go shove every abusive boyfriend into on coming traffic. The same girl, who is trying her damndest to get you to appreciate her, that very same girl that you can't have.

He could still smell the scent of her hair; he leant back against his seat and groaned, reaching out to pour another cup of coffee.

My life's a mess, she mumbled to herself as she arrived at Jamie's' house. She needed to talk to Jamie. No, she re-evaluated, she had to end things with Jamie.

The door whined as she opened it, and she took a deep breath. Ok, you asshole, I'm back, and boy am I pissed. Her footfalls echoed silently behind her. Nothing. He isn't home, she thought relieved. Great opportunity to take away any trace of Amy that she might have left. Her mind raced quickly; toiletries, clothes, money, and a suitcase, anything else? She headed to the toilet, picking up her hair and make-up, and a packet of his cigarettes. She didn't smoke, but she craved something to help silence all the thoughts that flooded her mind. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and grimaced. Her skin was dry and flaky; her hair a tousled mess, and her right eye throbbed aggressively. "Damn you Amy" she muttered.

"Oh, it's you," Jamie spat at her, he was holding onto the door for support. Amy flinched; he was still drunk.

She approached the door, composing herself before she could speak. "Leaving without giving your honey a kiss?" He laughed, and she could smell the alcohol, and burnt out cigarettes on his breath as he leaned towards her.

"Jamie, what I said last night.... It's over between us. Let me go. I promised I'd meet someone for lunch..."

"Who are you running to? Is he waiting for you?" He demanded, and Amy backed away, sensing his increasing anger.

"I don't know who you mean," she mumbled, searching his face. Would he hit her? Is that what he wanted to do? She couldn't tell.

"Him. Him. Him. Him. Him." He repeated angrily, "Your resident is he waiting for you?"

Carter? He meant Carter. "No, no he isn't. Can I go now?"

She began to leave the room. Jamie grabbed onto her. His big, rough hands, paralyzing her movements. "Not without a kiss," he ordered.

"Not now," she whispered. He thrust his lips on hers, and she recoiled, his scent suffocating her. She backed away again. "I'm late." This plea fell on deaf ears and his mouth was already running down her neck, his hands reaching for her blouse, sweaty hands fumbling with the buttons.

She brushed him away, suffocated by his passion. And dirt. "Please, Jamie." This time her voice was choked with tears and hurt. "Please, just let me go. I won't go to him. He doesn't know I'm here. Now please, please let me go."

His mouth and his taste dripped across her body, he now trapped her. Her blouse hung open, his hands still reaching for her hungrily. She was still begging him. Still crying openly.

RING-RING, RING-RING. His head jerked up, like that of a wild animal who had just sensed a predator. The phone was ringing. In his brief moment of distraction, she pushed past him and out into the hallway -RING-RING- her hands clutching at her top-RING-RING- stumbling across to her parked car. She fell into it, her key slamming into the slot within one swift movement. The house flashed past her, in a dark blur, as she drove out into the main road.

Everything felt numb. She loathed herself. His hands, and his scent remained on her. She could have done more. She could have ordered him to stop, made it obvious that she wouldn't be victim to his abuse any longer than she had done. But she hadn't. She hated his taste, but she despised herself even more.

To be continued in "Do They Have Cable TV in Hell?"