The Victims Game
Part Twelve - the Pact
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMERS:  Hi. We've got some legal stuff to wade through before we can jump into things. Mostly the usual prerequisite jazz: ER and all related characters are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions, and Amblin Entertainment Television, a bunch of really swell, understanding guys who won't sue me if I mention that the aforementioned characters and institutions are being used without their permission, but only for entertainment purposes, and that no form of profit is being made on this work. For the benefit of the content-conscious amongst you, I'll assure you that there's nothing here that you couldn't see on the show, anyway. Except maybe some language, I'm not sure yet. Depends what kind of day I'm having as I write. Beyond that, I make no promises about what's in store. Could be silly, could be scary, could be sexy, could be sad. I'm not telling. Come on, live dangerously...

Afterwards, Kerry and I lay apart in the bed, the awkwardness between us clearly apparent. We were both alone and unattached. So why did we both feel as if we'd cheated on someone? Maybe it was the cheap motel room.

I dozed lightly for half an hour or so, just long enough to dream that 'Joan', or whatever her name really was, stood over us, watching dispassionately, like we were microbes in a Petri dish. For some reason, she was wearing one of those red-shouldered 'Star Trek' uniforms. What was that about?

I drifted back into wakefulness again and looked at Kerry. She was on her side, facing away from me, but I could tell from her breathing that she was still awake. I lay on my back for a while, watching her, and then I put my arms around her waist and said, "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know," she said. "I never entirely know what to think when I'm around you, Daniel."

One could take that in a number of ways, I thought, but I didn't say so.

"You always seem impulsive and irresponsible, but there's a kind of honesty about you that...I don't know, I can't seem to form an objective opinion about you."

"That bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I'm not used to it. I can be level headed about almost anything. It's always been a point of pride with me."

"Does it have anything to do with everything that happened last spring?" I asked, thinking of the events that brought us together in the first place.

She stiffened at the memories, but only for a moment. "I suppose it does," she said. "The strange thing is that, as grateful as I am to you for saving my life, part of me can't help but resent you for it."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

"I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense. I mean, you weren't responsible for the whole situation..."

"No, but the people who were are all dead or in prison," I said, "I'm the only one nearby who you associate with it all, so whatever anger you may still have gets dumped on me. Don't worry about it, that kind of reaction's not uncommon."

"You're right, now that I think about it. I've lost patients, and had their families blame me for their accidents." She squeezed my forearm. "But it's more than that. Part of me enjoyed your coming to my rescue in my darkest hour, sweeping me off my feet and all that..."

"My pleasure."

"But my pragmatic half - more like ninety percent, actually - says I shouldn't need anyone to do that. It tells me I should be able to survive anything by myself, or I don't deserve to..."

"Hey, come on, we all need some help sooner or later. It's not the same as being dependent on anyone. And those were some really extreme circumstances, you know."

"I know. I just don't like owing anyone anything. Even my life."

"Kerry, you don't owe me anything. Need I remind you that you also saved my life in the process?"

Her voice was brittle. "By taking someone else's..."

I thought about her reaction to the deputy's words earlier. "Is that what's eating at you? That you had to kill Lonnie Bledsoe?"

"It goes against everything I believe in."

"Kerry, he was the most soulless excuse for a human being I've ever encountered. If anyone deserved to die-"

"I don't get to make those kind of judgments, Daniel," she asserted, still talking to me over her shoulder. "You don't understand what being a doctor means to me. You've heard of the Hippocratic Oath? 'First do no harm...'? That's not just something I say to get a prestigious, high-paying job. I believe in those words. I live them."

"Okay, screw the moral arguments, let's use that pragmatic ninety percent of yours. If you hadn't shot Lonnie, what do you think would have happened? You know what. He would have killed me, then he would have killed you, and then he would have gone out and killed more people, just because he damn well felt like it. You know this."

"Yes, I know that, Daniel, but don't you see, it doesn't matter!" Kerry rolled onto her back, to look me in the eyes. "I wasn't thinking about any of that when I killed him, I was acting out of blind rage and hatred for what he had done. I wanted him to die, and when he was dead, I wanted to wake him up and kill him again!" Her eyes had the raw look of someone who'd seen her own dark side and found it ugly.

The Kerry Weaver I knew had always played everything so close to the vest, that this kind of revelation left me speechless.

She looked at the ceiling. "The worst part of it all is that, even now, I don't feel guilty about it. That terrifies me more than anything Lonnie could have done to me."

"Oh, I...Kerry, I'm sorry..."

She put her fingers against my lips. "No, it's all right," she said, "It's not your fault. I just...I never knew I had anything like that inside me and...I'm so afraid that it'll come back."

I held her against me, and she settled in, more relaxed now that she'd gotten the truth out. After a while, I said, "Have you thought about seeing someone to help you with that? A therapist, maybe?"

She palmed her eyes. "God, I've resisted the idea of therapy all my adult life. I've been so determined to be the successful, self-made woman. Plus, I'm just afraid that if I open that can of worms, I'll never get it back under control again...but maybe it's time to give it a try."

We were quiet for a while.

"So, having dealt with the past," she said, "that brings us back to the present. I'm sort of wondering, what do we do about...this?"

"About the whole County-clinic-scandal-government-conspiracy-this? Or..." I made a little you-and-me gesture, "...about This-this?"

"This-this," she said, mimicking the gesture perfectly. "As much as I care about you, Daniel, this situation isn't one I can get a handle on."

"You mean, our being here, like this?"

"Mm-hmm. You don't fit into the scheme of things in my world...and I certainly couldn't have anticipated our ending up in bed together."

"Life does that, sometimes."

"No, that's...I'm sorry, I can't just write this one off as a random turn of the wheel. Not this time. Daniel...I've never been emotionally equipped for casual sex, but at the same time, I don't want to start thinking that this is the start of something...I just don't know how to quantify this."

Aha. The ever-popular morning-after rationalization period. "You're wondering how this could have happened?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

I considered it for a while. "Okay, how about this," I said, finally, "There's two people who are from very different worlds, but have an undeniable fondness for each other. They get pulled out of their familiar environments, subjected to a hell of a lot of stress in a condensed period of time, and end up stranded far from either of their homes. Remember, we once talked about uncharacteristic behavior in strange places?"

"I see," she mused, "So, with all their usual surroundings removed, and the trappings of control over their realms stripped away..."

"They each turn to the only friendly face around and do their best to, ah, reassure themselves that good, positive things can still exist in their lives."

"And, without much other recourse, they resort to one of the oldest and most ingrained responses in all of human behavior."

"Okay, there you go," I told her, "There's your quantification for you."

I felt her cheek move against my shoulder. A tentative nodding. "All right. That makes sense, but..." She understood it, but she still didn't know how to react to it.

"What's wrong now?"

"I don't regret us making love, believe me, but it's so unexpected. I didn't plan on it, it just happened..."

"Same here."

"But I can't accept that. It's just another sign of how out of control my life has suddenly become. I can't feel safe under those conditions. Not even in your company," she added with a slight smile.

I let my fingers run along her shoulder blade. "You know, the whole point of making love is letting go of control, just letting it happen..."

"Well, thank you, Dr. Ruth, I've never heard that before," she said, a touch of whimsy in her voice. "I know what you mean, Daniel, but it's not just this. It's this, on top of losing my job, watching the ER nearly fall apart, hearing one of my friends may be arrested...to say nothing of spending several hours locked in a trunk, not knowing whether I was going to live to see daylight again."

There it was again, another reminder of all the misery I had inadvertently brought down upon her and the others...

"I...I can't stand feeling small and weak and helpless," she admitted, softly, "and lately it seems that's all I've felt...there has to be some way to get a hold of things again. Being here with you isn't at all unpleasant, but it just...the issue of some sort of relationship between us is just another distraction I don't need at a time like this."

"Yeah, I know," I said, having heard similar sentiments expressed in the past. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault..."

"Tell you what," I said, sensing she wasn't entirely mollified, "If it will make you feel better, what do you say we just consider this little interlude to be, like, a 'time-out' from the rest of the world? Anything said or done in this room stays here." I'm sure we wouldn't be the first couple in this room to wish the same.

"And once we leave...?"

"The magic reset button gets pushed, and we're back to being just friends again. Okay?"

She pondered it. "So...the motel room acts like a kind of confessional?"

"I was thinking more in terms of a vacation from the harsher aspects of reality, but... okay, that works, too."

"Okay," she said, and I could hear a smile in her voice. "You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Fox."

"Great."

She snuggled closer, holding me more tightly. "Thank you for understanding, Daniel."

"All part of the service, Dr. Weaver."

After a bit, she asked me about the bullet wound that Ray LaFleur gave me seven years ago, tracing the scar with her finger, and I told her. Then I asked her about the scarring on her throat, doing the same, and she told me. I don't think either of us really registered the answers, but we were making casual, friendly chitchat to lighten things up between us. We trailed off into silence after a while.

I was thinking that it's difficult to hear someone say that they don't want to have a relationship with you and not translate it as 'You're not good enough for me'. Even though I knew that she was right, and that we were all wrong for each other, it still didn't feel too good. I didn't argue the point, though, because I knew it would only make things tougher on both of us. Opposites attract, but they seldom hold.

"Going back to what we said earlier..." Kerry began, then broke off.

"What?" I had thought she was asleep.

"No, it's nothing. Never mind."

"Kerry, what is it?"

"Well...you know our agreement?"

"About everything going back to the way it was, once we leave the room?"

"Right. I still think it's a good idea, Daniel, but...well, I can't help noticing that we, ah, haven't left the room yet..."

In a moment, I was, ahem, fully awake. She noticed, and tried to roll away, embarrassed. "Now you're going to think I'm such a hypocrite..."

"No, Kerry, I don't think that," I said, gently pulling her back. "You're just thinking that maybe we should take advantage of this unique window of opportunity while it's open, is that it?"

Kerry turned over, facing me. "I'm thinking," she said slowly, choosing her words very carefully, "that in spite of all we've said...the thought of being loved by someone like you is enormously attractive to me. I don't know when that will happen again, and a large part of me wants to enjoy it while I can."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so I pulled her closer, and we gradually melted into each other.

Our first time hadn't felt right entirely right because it was rushed and impulsive, even a little desperate. This time, we took it slow and did it right, making the most of an experience we both knew we wouldn't have again.

Kerry approached it the way she probably approached her researches and her administration, with patience and persistence and attention to detail. That may not make it sound very romantic, but her meticulous and methodical application yielded, shall we say, optimum results for both of us.

We both knew we had no future together, but we did our best to attenuate the present as much as possible.



"I don't know how to thank you guys!"
--- Fozzie Bear, 'The Muppet Movie'
"I don't know WHY to thank you guys..."
--- Kermit the Frog, Ibid