Chances

Disclaimer: They aren't my characters, never were, never will be. I am not writing for profit, just for fun, interest and the entertainment of myself and my peers. Don't sue me, it'd be a waste of time because I have nothing anyway. This story cannot be reproduced or archived without my permission and my name.

Summary: A Doug/Carol romance story, this one picks up exactly where that infamous season finale (1997) left off.

Warning: Explicit sex and language. If you are under 18, please turn back now.

Author's Note: The majority of this story was written in the summer of 1997, before I knew how Doug and Carol's relationship would turn out. So any inconsistencies that go against what we have learned so far are unintentional. As well, I would have you all know that I wrote the scenes with Carol's waking-up-alone anxiety attack and Doug's story about the man who slips in the shower *before* the new season even began(how those writers are tapping into my WordPerfect files I'll never know). Finally, I have to add that I am a strong advocate of safe sex, but in this world of my creation, we're not gonna tackle that issue. Tackling that issue with a character like Doug would take another whole story in and of itself.

Enjoy and please send feedback, good and bad. Constructive criticism and suggestions are welcomed with open arms, flames are unwelcome and will be immediately dumped, so don't even bother.

Chances

by Lisa
l_loise@alcor.concordia.ca

**********

‘Once more around should do it, the man confided...
and, sure enough, when the roller-coaster reached the peak
of the giant curve before me, screech of its wheels
almost drowned out by the shriller cries of the riders,

instead of the dip and plunge with its landslide of screams,
it rose in the air like a movieland magic carpet,
some wonderful bird..."
-Raymond Souster, Flight of the Roller-Coaster

**********

The light sliced harshly across the room as the two figures entered. The first stood just to the left of the door, while the second moved further into the darkness, settling to sit on the arm of a couch.

Carol closed the door, extinguishing the brightness from the room. Only an orange light remained, street lights filtered by flimsy beige curtains at the opposite end of the room. The glow cast them in an eerie limbo of shadows and light, a blurred reality enveloping them both, softening sharp angles and heightening sound.

Instinctively, Carol reached for the light switch beside the door.

"No. Don't." At the sound of his voice, her hand froze midair, hovering a few moments before dropping limply to her side.

Carol could see his outline there, in the dark- hands folded, calm in his lap. Unlike her hands, which were still shaking from Doug's surprise on the porch. She wondered if he still wore that maddening smirk.

Fumbling with the buttons a little, Carol removed her coat and hung it on the coat rack, then turned to face Doug fully.

From his vantage point on the couch, she looked to him to be luminous- pale white skin swathed in a dress blacker than the room they occupied. She tried to put on a look of determined confidence, standing ramrod-straight, her chin jutting out. He knew her well enough to be able to see through the guise. Her eyes were wide and her breathing slightly rapid, her face a mixture of trepidation and excitement. Doug felt a hot tug of arousal at the sight of her standing before him, waiting. He rose and began to move toward her.

"Doug?" Her voice was uncertain.

"Sssh." He reached forward and cupped her jaw, his fingers tangling in her hair. Carol turned her face into his hand, rubbing against it like a cat, open-mouthed, eyes closed. He smiled bemusedly at her reaction to his touch, but the smile quickly turned to a grimace marked by his hissing, indrawn breath. Carol nipped and bit at his palm, tongue flicking across his wrist, mouth moving up to envelop his index finger. Sucking suggestively, she raised her eyes to meet his, teasing. A low moan rumbled in the back of his throat, prompting a smile from her as she increased the suction on his finger. Instinctively, his hips jerked towards her, seeking to relieve the maddening pressure that his hardness, bound within his jeans, afforded him. She sighed, pushing his finger from her mouth with her tongue and reaching for him. Doug stepped nimbly away from her touch, causing a bewildered expression to cross her face. His gaze traveled hungrily over her body, the body he had so thoughtlessly possessed years ago, the body he had imagined seeing beneath him as he thrust roughly into the women he had used to numb his pain. And now she was here before him, her breath quick and hitching in the darkness of the room. He resisted the urge to pull her to the floor and take her right there, to satisfy the demanding need that threatened to overwhelm him. The heavy-lidded look on her face told him that not only would she not object to his desire, but would welcome him between her legs. A strangled groan slipped through his lips at the thought, and at the knowledge that he must keep his desire in check in order to avoid old mistakes.

Carol licked her suddenly dry lips. "Doug? What's wrong?" Her voice trembled, sounding small and frightened in the large room. She hated that he had this power over her, the power to render her helpless to her body, a power which he had once abused mercilessly and which she fervently hoped he wouldn't use against her this time around.

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all..." Doug's voice was low and soothing. "I just... I just want to look at you..." He circled behind her like a hunter closing in on its prey, coming to a stop directly behind her. For a long, long moment the only sound in the house was their breathing, rapid, backed up by a distant siren. Doug reached forwards and lifted a handful of thick, dark hair to his face, inhaling the familiar scent before letting it fall back down, smoothing it in place. He trailed his fingers down her arm, drawing a shiver from her before coming to rest at her wrist. Their fingers knit together and Doug gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She returned the squeeze, and relaxed back into him, forcing him to wrap his free arm around her waist for support. Dipping his head, Doug lightly skimmed his lips across her shoulder, and a tiny whimper escaped her lips.

At that first contact, he felt drugged, lost. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, then kissed softly up the column of white skin, reclaiming each lost piece of flesh as he went. Carol tilted her head to allow him easier access to the sensitive skin, her eyes shut, mouth open and wet. His tongue flicked in the pink whorls of her ear, finally settling upon her earlobe, sucking and nibbling. She squirmed and shimmied against his body, feeling the tantalizing hardness of his penis against her ass. Doug's hand moved up to cup her breast, seeking out the already stiff nipple, running his hands over the clothed peak again and again, prompting a loud moan from her as she bucked back to collide with his erection. Doug answered with a matching thrust and a gentle pinch to her nipple, feeling his control begin to slip as she wantonly writhed against him, raising his desire to a fever pitch.

He sank to his knees behind her, removing himself out of the way of temptation. Lifting each ankle, he slipped off her shoes, pushing them aside. She wore nylons, he noted with a mixture of dismay and relief. Placing one hand on each ankle, he dragged his hands up her calves, scratching and massaging his way to the backs of her knees. He leaned forward in a posture of supplication, kissing the sensitive folds of skin there.

Carol moaned imploringly and shifted on her feet, spreading her legs slightly, encouraging him as he slowly stroked and kissed his way up her thighs. The musky scent of her arousal hit him, a honeyed perfume that made him dizzy with its promise and long-ago familiarity. Doug moved back from her, fighting to maintain the control he had so struggled to build.

Carol wrenched out of his grasp and dropped to her knees, facing him, pulling his face to hers, kissing him blindly. They kissed wet and hard, tongues reaching, sighing and moaning into each other’s mouths. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Carol laid back, taking him with her. Her hips were moving under him relentlessly, crumbling his resolve. Doug reached under her, cupping her buttocks and raising her to him, straining towards her roughly. She cried out sharply and reached for the waistband of his pants, tugging at them. Turning her face into the tangle of her hair she began to speak.

"Please... oh god... Doug... please..."

He froze. Her pleas brought him back to the first time they had had sex, so many years ago. She had lain under him on his kitchen floor, uttering those same words, begging for closeness, not only physical, but a mental connection that he couldn't then, and never had been, able to give her.

Carol's eyes were wet when he looked down at her. A single tear fell over the side of her cheek, disappearing into her hair.

"Oh god..." She closed her eyes as if in pain. Doug rolled off her so they lay side by side, on their backs. "Oh god, Doug, it was just like-"

"I know."

"I don't want to-"

"Neither do I." They lay in silence, staring at the darkness above them. Carol was crying softly, chastising herself for almost falling back into a cycle she thought she had broken. Doug reached for her hand and held it desperately.

"I want it to be different this time," he said to the ceiling.

"Me too." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Do you think we can?" The question stuck in his throat, for her answer had the potential to both revive him and destroy him. Her reply came slowly.

"I... I hope so."

Doug lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "I, um... I promise... I promise it'll be different."

She started crying again, her breath hitching quietly. Doug pulled her to him and she came willingly, curling against his side and resting her head on his chest. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair until the tears died down. Soon they rested in a companionable silence, twined together on the floor, kissing and caressing softly as the room lightened with the coming dawn.

*****

Doug stuffed his hands in his pockets as the El pulled into the station. Casting a final glance in the direction of Carol's house, a small smile tugged at his lips, thinking of Carol asleep and in bed, resting after the previous night's events.

Leaning his head against the cool window, he once again promised himself that he wouldn't betray the trust she had built in him. It had been less than a year since he had decided to turn his life around, and although it had led to greater boredom and considerable sexual frustration, Carol's cautious trust in him made it seem incredibly worthwhile.

Drowsy and disheveled, she had risen from the floor in the pale light of dawn.

"Where you goin'?" Doug raised his head slightly.

"Change." She wove unevenly up the stairs, eyes half closed. He briefly entertained the thought of following her, but instead dragged himself from the floor to the couch, flipping through channels on the TV until finally settling on the soothing baritone of CNN's anchorperson.

"Do you want coffee?" Carol's voice was sleep-roughened and husky. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in a large gray t-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers.

"May as well. Don't think I'll be sleeping too much today." He followed her into the kitchen.

"When do you start?"

"Ten."

Carol smiled. "I'm doing the graveyard."

"Lucky you."

"The graveyard shift on a Friday? I feel blessed."

Doug laughed, his gaze settling on her face, a smile lingering on his lips even as the laughter died away.

The same thick silence that had enveloped them on the porch the previous night repeated itself; but this time there was little confusion about what was behind it. They leaned towards each other in tandem, kissing softly, gently. Carol broke off the kiss and moved to the counter.

Doug followed, tangling both hands in her hair, lifting it up, rubbing her scalp with the pads of his fingers. Pouring the coffee, Carol shivered and smiled. He nuzzled into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his mouth moving slowly as his fingers continued to massage her head.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured thickly, lips resting against her pulse.

Carol moved away from him, setting the coffee mugs on the table and dropping into a chair. Head down, she added a bit of milk to her mug and stirred.

"What are we doing, Doug?"

"What?"

"What are we doing?"

He sat down and took a sip of his coffee, barely noticing the burning heat. "What do you want to be doing?" She raised her eyes to meet his, probing, not answering the question.

"I want to be with you." His voice was quiet and gruff. Carol reached across the table and laid her hand over his, silently urging him on.

"You're my best friend... no one knows me like you do," he laughed bitterly, "and you still like me." She squeezed his hand. "There's no one else I want to be with." His voice rose urgently. "I can't say I don't have problems, but Carol, I'm different now. I... I'm not the ass I was. I want.. I want to be with you. I want to show you how different it'll be, how *good* it can be..."

She smiled. "I think it could be good."

"It would. Neither of us is the same-"

"Thank god."

"I think we deserve another chance."

"Me too."

"You do?" His voice was a mixture of surprise and happiness.

"Yeah." Carol sipped her coffee pensively. "But-"

Doug felt his stomach plummet. He struggled not to let his protective walls go up, to hear her out.

"I think maybe we should take... things... a bit slower this time around."

"How do you mean... *things*?"

She tilted her head and smiled wearily. "I mean sex."

"Oh." Doug leaned back in his chair. "Being in a kitchen bring back memories?"

"More like nightmares."

"You're telling me the sex was bad?" he teased.

"No... the sex was incredible. But that's all there was to our relationship. Sex. Good sex, but it was only sex. No companionship. Not even a friendship. I've had too many empty relationships, Doug, and I don't want to do that again."

"You're preaching to the converted here. My series of meaningless relationships make you look like a rookie." He smiled slowly. "So what do you say?"

"I say what the hell."

"Your mother will have a stroke."

"I'm trained to trained to treat her."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Let me kiss you again."

"With pleasure."

They kissed for long, long minutes, smiling under each other’s mouths, playfully pecking and darting at one another, laughing and murmuring, relaxed. They settled into a comfortable embrace on the kitchen floor, legs and arms twined, breathing in tandem. The atmosphere soon turned softly erotic, and the laughter became sighs, the kisses deepening, their bodies moving against each other , falling naturally into the ancient rhythm. Carol could feel the excitement thrumming through her, her mind growing muzzy, her body responding to him at its own accord. She gripped his buttocks and pushed him against her pelvis, relishing the hiss of his breath, the feel of his hardness.

Doug moved back, away from her. "You're testing me..," he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry. It's just... it's just the sex was really, *really* good..," she laughed.

"I haven't necked like this since I was sixteen." Doug dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and stood, offering her his hand and dragging her to her feet.

"Fun, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

********

The next day

"Carol. Phone." The receiver dangled limply from Randi's hand.

"Just a sec." Carol slotted the last file in the drawer and turned to take the phone from Randi. "Carol Hathaway."

"Hi. How are you this morning?"

Carol dragged the phone away, stretching the cord to it's limit to get to a remote corner of the nurses' station, away from prying ears.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Mmmm," She could hear him rubbing his hand over a stubbled cheek. "A bit tired. Been thinking."

"About?" A knot of fear began to form in her stomach.

"You. Us." He coughed nervously. "I want to see you again."

Relief made her smile slightly. "I want to see you, too."

"Really?"

"Really." She laughed lightly.

"When do you get off work?"

"Tonight?"

"Oh- do you have other plans?"

Connie was waving at her impatiently. "No- no, I don't have any plans."

"Why don't I pick you up after work?"

"Sure. Great." Connie was playing charades now. It looked like she was trying to say there was a cardiac coming in. "Gotta run, Doug."

"When do you get off work?"

"Five. See you then." She flipped he phone back to Randi and headed for the supply closet.

"Hey, wasn't that Doug Ross?" Randi's voice followed her down the hall. "I'd recognize that voice anywhere." Carol didn't answer, instead joining Chuny in the supply closet.

"That was Doug on the phone?" Chuny smirked evilly. "Don't tell me you're going *there* again, girl."

"Never say never." Carol pulled a few IV meds and left to anticipate the incoming trauma.

******

Doug leaned against the counter of the nurses' station.

"What are you doing here? Don't you get enough of this place?" Mark dumped a few files and erased a name from the call board.

"He's here to pick up Carol," Chuny singsonged.

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"It's about time you got your shit together." Mark tapped him on the shoulder with his clipboard as he moved to exam room one. "Good luck."

Doug turned back to the nurses' station to find himself being unabashedly stared at.

"Listen." Haleh leaned next to him, moving in conspiratorially. "People are gonna talk. All I have to say is don't mess around with her again."

"I don't intend to, Haleh." He tried to smile gamely, but it came off strained. "Not that it's any of your business."

"No, it's not. But I'm making it my business. That girl has grown so strong. I don't want you taking that away from her." Haleh squeezed his arm. "Here she comes."

"Hey. Hope I'm not underdressed." She wore a pair of jeans and a simple navy t-shirt.

"Not at all." Doug cast a glance back at the curious staff in the nurses' station. "Let's get out of here."

********

The car sped down the freeway, windows undone. Carol had one arm out the window, hair blowing messily.

"No, really, Doug. Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"It better not be anything fancy, because I'm not dressed for it."

"Trust me, it's no big deal. Sit tight. We're almost there." Doug pulled on to the offramp. The blare of wind in the car lightened, making it seem very quiet.

"They weren't giving you a hard time back there, were they?" Her voice was soft.

"A little." Doug laughed. " I seem to remember something along the lines of ‘don't you dare mess with her like you did last time'."

"I'm sorry." Carol laid a hand on his thigh. "They're just protective, y'know?"

"Yeah." Doug dropped his hand to hers and squeezed. "I said it would be very different this time and it will be."

"I believe you."

"That's all that matters to me." Doug pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine.

"Spring Lake Forest Reserve?"

"That's the place." Doug popped the trunk and got out of the car. Carol followed, staring at the trees of the forest as if she had just been transplanted to this surrealistic landscape.

"Why are we at Spring Lake?"

"Dinner." Doug rummaged in the trunk, pulling out a large, heavy brown paper bag.

"A picnic dinner?" Carol laughed and sat back on the rear bumper.

"You got it." He handed her a blanket and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Smiling slightly, he leaned down and kissed her deeply, softly. Her answering smile reassured and relaxed him, and he finally let himself believe that this was really real, and he was getting a second chance with this incredible woman who he had once very nearly destroyed.

He hefted up the large bag and extended his arm to her. "Come on."

Carol took his hand and walked close, occasionally bumping against him as the picked their way through the woods, looking for the ideal picnicking spot. The perfect spot, they agreed, would be both sunny and shady, though the sun would set soon. It would have trees, but not too many, and it had to be far away from other picnickers, hikers, and god forbid, suburban families.

They settled on a spot a good fifty yards off the path, up a slight incline and in a small clearing shaded by tall trees. They couldn't name the types of tree, save for the obvious maple, and wondered at their own stubborn urbanity.

Carol spread the blanket in the appropriate not-too-sunny-not too-shady spot and sat on it, reclining back on her elbows. Inclining her head, she indicated the expanse of blue blanket next to her.

"Come on." Carol spread the blanket in the appropriate not-too-sunny-not too-shady spot and sat on it, reclining back on her elbows. Inclining her head, she indicated the expanse of blue blanket next to her.

"Come on."

Doug set down the brown paper bag. "Come on what?"

"Come on and say hi to me." Carol inwardly chastised herself for her girlish coyness.

"Say hi? Tell me, how do want me to say hi?"

In response, she knelt up and tugged him down to her level, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him openmouthed, boldly reaching into his mouth with her tongue.

"I like the way you say hi," he murmured against her mouth, letting himself fall forward to rest beside her on the blanket. At first, the kisses were deep and languorous, but their movements quickly morphed into a kind of desperation; quick, hot kisses as they ran their hands over each other feverishly, never lingering very long, as if trying to recapture something only slightly elusive, a sensation almost there, but just barely out of reach. They wound and pressed together, never stationary for more than a few moments, rolling right off the blanket to the forest floor, where a pinecone stuck Carol in the small of the back.

"Jesus!" She arched her back so violently that Doug was thrown from his comfortable position nuzzling her ear to the relative discomfort of the hard, pebbly ground.

"What- what?" Doug was on his feet in a panic, glancing around wildly, half expecting a grizzly bear to lumber out of the sparse wilderness 20 miles outside Chicago.

"Pinecone." Carol tossed the offending object to the side.

"A pinecone? You almost gave me a heart attack over a pinecone?"

"Well, they're sharp," she said lamely. She couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight of him standing over her, his face a mixture of fear and incredulity, the bulge in his pants rapidly deflating. She looked up at him and laughed out loud.

"Oh yeah, you're a shining wit." He returned to sit on the blanket, mumbling under his breath. "A pinecone... Jesus..."

Carol leaned across his lap, reaching for the paper bag, only to get her hand lightly slapped away.

"I'm hungry," she offered by way of explanation.

"So forage. I hear pinecones are in season."

She leaned against his side and shoved. "Poor baby, a pinecone ruined all his fun." Relaxing against him, she smiled in amusement at his boyish sulking.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you just keep on laughing. You can laugh till you starve to death."

Suddenly, Carol lunged across him and grabbed the bag, quickly retreating with it, one hand already fumbling with the contents.

"Hey, give it back!" Doug reached out to yank the bag away, but she swiftly moved it out of his reach.

"Mmmm... sandwiches. I wonder what kind..."

"Give it back."

"Not on your life."

"That's it. You're finished." He dove at her, intent on retrieving the bag, on extending this little game. But Carol rolled over on to her stomach, taking the bag with her.

He tickled roughly at her sides, causing her to squirm and laugh maniacally, but not give up the bag.

"Screw you, Ross," came a muffled, gasping voice. "The sandwiches are mine."

"Oh yeah?" Doug yanked off one of her shoes, and, holding her ankle immobile, made ticklish patterns on the sole of her foot. Her laughter took on a high-pitched, screaming quality as she kicked violently.

"No, stop it, stop..." she wailed between gasps. "Here. Have it." Carol tossed the bag in his general direction. Doug smiled triumphantly. He remembered her ticklishness, and the foot tickle had always been a reliable and successful trump card.

She rolled on too her back, rubbing her tortured sole against the opposite calf. "Asshole," she said good-naturedly. "I'll get you for that."

"How? *I'm* not the ticklish one here." She gazed pointedly at his crotch, then raised her eyes to meet his. "Yeah, I guess you could get me that way." An uncomfortable silence followed, both unsure if they had taken it too far, and where to go next. Doug broke the silence first. "So. Uh... want a sandwich? They're kind of crushed, but..."

"Sure."

"What kind?"

"Whatever. Just toss me one." Her voice strained for lightness. Soon, a cellophane-wrapped package landed at her side. He wasn't even looking at her. She unwrapped the sandwich. Chicken salad. Doug was studiously avoiding looking at her, tearing at what appeared to be a ham sandwich in tiny, violent bites.

"Doug, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." His voice was gruff.

"Don't lie. You promised you wouldn't lie to me."

He turned to her slowly, eyes still averted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Shouldn't have what?"

"Tickled you... I guess."

"Is that what you feel bad about?" It was clear from her voice that she didn't believe him.

"No." He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "I don't want to push things. I don't want to scare you away."

"By tickling my feet? Come on." She pulled him down next to her, idly caressing the delicate hairs at his wrist. "I'm not a china doll, Doug. I won't break."

"I know, it's just... I don't want to go to fast, like last time, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured or-"

"I'm not the uncomfortable one here. You are."

"I don't want to fuck up again."

"You're not." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed the top. "You're not."

He curled gratefully against her side, his free hand tangling in her hair. "Thank you," he murmured against her shoulder.

"For what?"

"For giving me another chance."

"You deserve it, Doug. And so do I." She laid a palm on his chest and gently urged him on to his back. "Besides, what makes you think that I don't want this just as bad as you do?" Her hand make nonsensical patterns over his chest. "And I agree that we should maybe take things a bit slower this time, but honestly, Doug, it's hard." Her finger trailed down his cheek and across his lips.

"Yeah." His voice was raspy, dry.

"I know it's in our best interest not to base the relationship around sex this time, but god," She swung around to straddle his thighs, kneeling over him and pressing both palms firmly up his chest. "it's difficult to take it slow."

"But we should." He gave into temptation and lashed his tongue across her thumb as it passed close to the corner of his mouth.

"Of course we should." She dipped her head and kissed the base of his neck, trailing wet, sucking kisses up his throat, prompting a small moan from him as he arched his neck to expose more flesh to her mouth. She let her tongue follow the pulse down the side of his neck and felt his hands on her face, urging her upward, towards his mouth. Moving back from him, she shimmied forward until she was kneeling upright, straddling his hips. He arched his pelvis into her, and her eyes briefly fluttered shut at the feeling of his hardness pressing against her.

Carol rested her hands lightly on his hips, fingers creeping under the waistband of his jeans, flicking lightly, teasing. He tensed in anticipation, willing her to reach down and touch him. His penis leapt towards the movement of her fingers, only inches away. Instead she tugged his shirt free of the jeans and ran her hands over his chest, encouraging him to lift slightly and pull it off. She stroked his chest with an expression of absorption, as if re-learning his contours, the arc of his ribs and the sharp, jutting points of his hips. Fingertips skidded across his nipples, causing them to raise to her touch. The hands wound slowly down his abdomen, rubbing and tickling, then suddenly scratching hard across his stomach, causing the muscles to contract with a hiss of indrawn breath. Carol tugged off her own shirt, throwing it carelessly to the side, revealing a quick glimpse of something cream colored and lacy before she leaned over him, her mouth sucking hard at the base of his throat, her tongue trailing through the sparse hair of upper chest to circle a nipple. Looking down, he could see her breasts swinging lightly, the nipples stiff and pressing against the fabric of her bra. He raised his hands to cup them, rubbing his thumbs over the clothed peaks, her hair tickling his face as she nipped at the soft flesh where his neck and shoulder joined. She moaned against his skin and backed away from his hands, licking a line down the center of his chest, through the line of his tense abdominal muscles, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his pants. Her tongue insinuated itself around the waistband of his jeans, flicking and teasing, unbelievably close to the tip of his aching cock. He arched towards her mouth helplessly, trying desperately and unsuccessfully for contact. Raising her head to look at him, he saw the wild look in her eyes as she fumbled with the button of his jeans. The button popped and he grabbed hold of her wrists, stilling them. She stared up at him, confused.

"No." It was about the hardest thing he had ever said in his life.

"I want to." Her voice was thick with desire.

"Not yet." He lifted his knees to support her back and she leaned back against them, breathing heavily. "Not yet." Releasing her wrists, he moved his hands behind her back, expertly undoing the pretty bra and discarding it.

Carol smiled. "You still got it, Doug."

"I hope so." He lifted up the heavy flesh and stroked it, avoiding her nipples, watching them tighten and darken from light pink to a deep rose. She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering closed. Doug smiled with the memory of her breasts, their extreme and delicious sensitivity, the way she would sit still for what seemed like hours, moaning under her ministrations. Once, he thought, she may have actually come as he teased her nipples. But then again, his memories of those years were usually drunkenly hazy.

Five fingers caressed each nipple, making her groan and grind down against his crotch. Encouraged, Doug squeezed each nipple, rolling them between his fingers before clamping down hard and tugging, holding on. She emitted a strangled sound of pleasure-pain and looked at him with an expression of anguished desire. Arching her hips slightly, she rubbed against the length of him, prompting him to release his grip on her nipples. A shot of pleasure rode through her as she felt his tongue flicking at her nipples, licking, retreating, wet lips circling the aching buds and moving away, never sucking, never giving her what she needed, what her body was begging for. The next time his mouth moved to her nipple, she grabbed his head without any finesse and pressed it against her breast. Doug smiled at her loss of control and gave in, languorously sucking at her nipples, first one, then the other, spending long, long minutes, contentedly licking and nipping as his mouth continued the suction. She was moving against him feverishly now, hips jerking frenetically, her breath hitching, as she moaned loudly, groaning his name and god's. He realized with some wonder that she was very close to coming, and in response he increased the suction and raised his groin to meet her hips as she crashed against him, making ragged pleas for him not to stop, please don't stop, pleasedon'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop and then she was arching back, away from him, away from his mouth, leaning back, the points of her nipples jutting out in the fading light. She emitted a single desperate cry and he watched her face suffuse with pleasure as her orgasm crashed through her. She looked wild at that moment, a beautiful woman astride him, shaking, hair messy and tangled, her hands clenching spasmodically, painfully, on his upper thighs. He was so close to release himself; just a minute more would have done it, but the rocking of her hips slowed and eventually stilled. She let herself collapse across him, eyes never opening, her head resting on the flat plane of flesh between his shoulder and collarbone, breathing slowly returning to normal. Her fingers idly stroked through the hair of his chest as aftershocks prompted small sounds from the back of her throat. Doug laid his hand on the small of her back and held her against him, caressing gently up and down her spine, feeling both satisfied and needy at the same time.

"Hey there," he whispered when her breathing became regular.

"Hey." She pressed closer to him and laughed softly. "That was... unexpected."

"Reminiscent of high school."

"Mmm-hmm." Carol lifted her head and kissed him. "I'm kind of embarrassed, I..."

"What's there to be embarrassed about? That... you were incredible. Beautiful."

She dropped her head back down to his chest. "Did you...?"

"No."

"Oh, well let me-"

"No. It's OK. I'm OK. I know you're tired. Go to sleep."

"You remember..." She gratefully settled back against him, she hadn't really wanted to return the favor, not yet, anyway.

"How could I forget, Carol? You're a typical guy. You come, then pass out."

"Guess that was convenient for you, huh?"

"Certainly was. I could sneak off, unnoticed..."

"Not exactly Mr. Romance."

"No, but I sure had the Mr. Charming thing down pat."

"Still do."

"Why thank you. I'm working on the Mr. Romance thing as we speak." Carol yawned. "And I'll start by being nice enough to let you fall asleep as I stay awake to watch out for rogue pinecones and other dangers of the wilderness."

"Mmm.... thanks." She was half asleep already. Carol had a wonderful talent for being able to drop off into sleep wherever and whenever she chose. Doug, on the other hand, spent most of his time awake and wishing he could sleep. He dropped a kiss on her curly hair.

"Sleep well." But she was already gone.

******

Carol awoke cold and disoriented. When, after a few moments, she realized where she was and why, she relaxed and reached for Doug, only to encounter an empty expanse of blanket where he should have been. Panic swept over her when she realized that once again she had woken to find him gone. But this time he hadn't left her in her own bed, he'd abandoned her in a strange forest at sundown, less than twenty minutes after she had fallen asleep, miles outside the city and with no way home. Tears welled up unbidden, and she fought to choke them down and translate the emotion into anger, but to no avail. She was so sure that Doug had changed. That he wasn't afraid of commitment, that his self-absorbed, womanizing ways were a thing of the past. She had allowed herself to once again fall under his spell, but this time she fell harder, so sure she was of his transformation. And once again she was alone, feeling used and horribly, painfully betrayed.

She reached for her shirt and her hand encountered something cold, metal. Car keys. And just beyond them, his shirt, in the same place it had landed when he had taken it off earlier. Relief flooded her and made her feel weak. She smiled though crying, and felt an overwhelming urge to hug him and thank him for not taking off as she slept, for living up to a promise that she had just moments ago been sure he'd betrayed. She pulled on her shirt and set off in search of him, vowing not to go far or get lost. Carol thought of simply calling out to him, but the forest was so quiet that to shout seemed almost a sacrilege. So she struck out towards a small path of beaten down grass that went in the opposite direction from whence they came, further into the woods. If he was going for a walk, or to take a pee, she reasoned, he wouldn't have returned to the main path.

She moved quietly, scanning, like a hunter closing in on prey. A glimpse of movement to her left. Slowly turning, she tried to hone in on it, moving her head until she could see him through the dense foliage, about twenty feet away. And due to her position on slightly higher ground, he couldn't see her. Perfect. She crept forward, slowly, painstakingly, wincing when her sneaker hit a dry leaf. He came more fully into view as she moved closer to the break in the foliage... she could see his head, bare shoulders, he was leaning against a tree, hands out of view, obviously peeing. She took another step forward and saw that his right arm was flexing rhythmically, and his face held an expression that said that he was either taking the most glorious pee of his life or there was something else going on here. Feeling both guilty and fascinated, she dropped to her knees to peer through the concealing leaves, ignoring the dampness of the ground underneath her. She could see all of him now. He leaned back against a tree, his jeans undone and pushed low on his hips, the thick shaft of his cock jutting out. One hand gripped the base, the other was pumping in a steady rhythm, up and down. Carol felt suddenly, incredibly, turned on. Never had she seen a man do this. Hot warmth flooded her core and she resisted the temptation to join him, to beg him to fuck her right there at the base of that tree. The voyeurism made her twitchy and excited, knowing that he would never be doing this if he knew she was there. His ego wouldn't be able to take it. Her breathing quickened to match the movements of his arm, and she struggled to maintain her silence.

He slowed down his pace and began to caress himself, lightly drawing his knuckles up the underside, fingers gently teasing the red, swollen tip, spreading the moisture there all over the head, rubbing it in with the flat palm of his hand. He flung his head back and moaned. Carol fought to bite back an answering sound, but thrilled to the sight of him, her nipples pressing against the fabric of her shirt, her core aching, squeezing convulsively. Still she maintained control, even when his other hand dipped deep into his pants, and they fell to puddle at his feet. Fully naked now, he pushed forward, swollen and thick, the tip glistening. It was as if the sight triggered long-forgotten sensations inside her body, she was overwhelmed by the memory of him inside her, pushing, of the throb of him as he slid in and out of her. His hand was gently caressing his balls now, tickling the fuzzy sac, jiggling them, as the other hand worked on his cock. His hips rutted forward now, to meet his hand, and Carol could see his muscles visibly tensing, and she tensed with him, breathlessly awaiting the finale. His head thrown back, jaw clenched, he uttered a throaty groan as he came, white ribbons of hot liquid spurting, landing at his feet, on his belly, his hands, lubricating them for the final few strokes before he released himself and leaned gasping against the tree, the fingers of one hand trailing through the fluid that splattered his abdomen.

Carol longed to make her presence known, but it was too late now, now he would be angry that she watched in silence and had inadvertently invaded one of the most private acts a person ever performs. That's what it was like to her. A performance. And she wanted to see it again, but not hidden. She retreated slowly from her vantage point before Doug could recover his senses and perhaps hear her less-than-graceful exit.

When he returned to the clearing, she was folding up the blanket, preparing to go, working feverishly, avoiding his eyes in the fear that he would see there everything she had just witnessed.

"You're awake already?"

"It's cold."

"Yeah, it is." She could hear him putting on his t-shirt. She wondered if he was still half-hard, but didn't dare venture a glance at his crotch.

"I was worried when I woke up and you weren't there." She stuffed the unopened bottle of sparkling grape juice back into the paper bag of smashed and uneaten sandwiches.

It took a few moments for this comment to register. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed her close. "God, Carol, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think... it didn't occur to me..."

"It's OK. When I saw your stuff I realized you hadn't taken off after all. It was just a bit too much like old times for me there for a few seconds." His arms tightened around her in response. "Where were you, anyway?" she asked innocently, some perverse part of her wanting to hear his answer.

"Walked around, took a pee, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Did she ever. She struggled to keep from laughing.

"Since we never got around to eating, what do you say we pick you up some drive-through on the way home?" His hand on the small of her back, they picked their way out of the clearing and headed in the direction of the car.

"You don't want to come in?"

"Nah... no offense, I mean, I'm just really tired."

"I understand." And she did. She wasn't the only one who liked to pass out after sex.

"I have to work early tomorrow-"

"I said I understand." She turned and kissed him, reaching around to pinch his butt. Doug swore she looked at him with a strange expression... amusement? He wasn't sure.

********

Doug opened his locker and started to suit up for the beginning of his shift. A few lockers down, John Carter was getting ready to leave.

"So, Dr. Ross-"

"You can call me Doug, Carter."

"Doug. I just wanted to say that I think it's a really, really great thing. You and Carol, I mean."

"What about me and Carol?" Doug pulled out his stethoscope and draped it around his neck.

Carter shifted nervously. "Um... I heard you were back together."

"And where did you hear that?"

"A few people..."

Doug rolled his eyes. Carter tried to backpedal immediately.

"Just heard it around, you know? No big deal." Doug continued to regard him steadily. "Forget I said anything, OK?"

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Carter."

"I don't... I just... I don't," he finished lamely.

"And I don't kiss and tell." Doug smiled.

"So... that mean, you guys are like... does that mean...?"

Doug left Carter floundering. "Have a nice night, Dr. Carter."

**********

The sun was rising. Doug stared numbly through the window of the staff lounge, exhausted. The night was trying, to say the least. Between an MVA, two spinal taps, and a 5-year old boy who was so badly beaten his collarbone was broken, Doug had had a pretty brutal night. Not to mention the constant whispers, comments and jibes being thrown his way. It seemed they were all in on it; even Kerry was poking her nose into his private life, in her own perverse way. He had had his hands deep inside the chest cavity of an accident victim when Kerry looked up from her work and commented ‘how they could sure use Carol right now' and ‘By the way Doug, how is she anyway?' He had promptly replied that there was no way he would know, much to the interest of the nursing staff. Chuny and Wendy had long conversations in Spanish, punctuated by giggles, as they stared at him. Mark was patting his back like Doug was another good ‘ole boy. And Haleh wouldn't quit giving him the evil eye.

He rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. 6:04. He was free.

"Hey Doug, called Child Services on that kid. Father's really pissed off." Anna DelAmico filled up a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee and downed it in one gulp.

"Kid's been here a million times. Comes back every couple of months, new injury. We call Child Services, they do nothing. They won't do anything till the kid shows up DOA." He roughly twisted out the combination on his lock, overshooting the last number. He tried again, this time forgetting to make one complete turn to the left. He pulled roughly on the lock before slamming a fist against the locker. "Fuck."

Anna wasn't fazed by the outburst. "Hard night, huh?"

Doug sucked at his lower lip. "Yeah."

"It wasn't even that crazy, really..." Anna took off her jacket and stuffed it into a backpack. "But I noticed that some people were giving you a hard time."

"You could say that." Locker successfully opened, Doug dumped his equipment and pulled on his street clothes, happy to be escaping the insanity.

"I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but... how are things? I can't help but thinking this stress is somehow related..."

"How are things? You know what, Anna? They're good. Really good."

She smiled widely, genuinely happy for him. "I'm glad."

"Then why do I feel like I should run like hell?"

"Habit?"

"Maybe." Doug leaned back heavily against the wall, scratching at the itchy morning's beard growth. His own version of five o'clock shadow, on an inverted time scale.

"Listen, Doug." Anna rose. "I'm off now, how about some breakfast? We could talk. I know for me it sometimes helps to talk to someone you don't know that well."

He nodded slowly.

"I discovered this total dive just around the corner. Ugly. Great food, all the servers are called Mabel or Flossie, and you can just sit there for hours, no one bugs you. Free coffee refills, too." Anna pushed open the door to the lounge. "You up for it?"

"I could go in for the heart-attack-on-a-plate special."

"That's the spirit."

*********

"So the guy says, ‘I slipped in the shower and that's how it got up my ass' and *I* say, ‘Sir, I have to wonder what empty peanut butter jar was doing in your shower'." Doug grinned and mopped up the last of the egg yolk with a crust of toast.

"Oh god I don't know if I'd be able to control myself if I had to deal with one of those." Anna was doubled over, laughing, as Doug regaled her with stories of what Kerry Weaver referred to as ‘rectal foreign objects'.

"Don't worry about control. His ass is in the air- he can't see your face!"

She laughed harder, struggling to swallow a mouthful of orange juice. "So tell me, Doug, what's got you so crazed?"

Immediately, he shifted into low gear. "Wow, there's no beating around the bush with you, eh?" Anna smiled crookedly, but didn't reply. "OK. Here's the thing: I'm trying to build this relationship with a woman who I once hurt very badly. It took me years to regain her trust. Now I have it, I think, but I'm so afraid... afraid that I'm going to make a mistake and it's all going to collapse around me, you know? It's like... we're just hanging there, by a string. One false move from me, and snap! Game over. I don't think I could hack that."

"So you'd rather not even try?"

"No, no...it's not that. I'm trying. I am. But I am so paranoid, Anna. Everything I say, everything I do, feels like it has to be measured out. I'm treading on really thin ice here, and the pressure just has me really wound up..."

"Is she worth it?"

He answered without hesitation. "Yes."

"Doug, are you sure she's second-guessing everything you do? Or are you maybe projecting your own insecurities on her?"

"I could be."

"I don't think she'd let you back in her life if she wasn't pretty sure about it. I mean, she knows you, Doug. You said yourself she's about the closest thing to a best friend you have. If she didn't think it would work, she wouldn't have let things get as far as they have."

"Yeah..." He still sounded unconvinced.

"Doug." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Give Carol some credit. And for chrissakes, give yourself some, too. Because there's no surer way to wreck a relationship than to constantly be second guessing yourself. Trust me, I know." The waitress cleared away their plates and dropped the bill in front of Doug. He lifted it and stared at the numbers, but none of it registered in his mind.

"Doug, you're a man who has risen above some pretty serious shit in order to clean up your life. You should be proud. And excited. Things are really coming together for you now. It's payoff time. Enjoy it."

He smiled, embarrassed.

"Just be yourself, Doug, warts and all. *That's* the person she's in love with."

He lifted his head, surprised. "You think she's in love with me?"

Anna laughed out loud, a rich, deep sound. "Oh Christ, it's obvious to everybody in the world but the two of you that you're absolutely loopy over each other. I mean, I haven't been around for the past couple years, but from what I hear, this has been one of the most painfully drawn out courtships known to man. But in the short time that I've known both of you-" She met his eyes. "Yeah. You guys are lucky. They say that there's one person out there for everyone, and for you it's Carol, and for Carol it's you."

"You're not the only person to have said that."

"Well, don't blow it, pal. Not many of us have the good fortune of meeting anyone even remotely close to ‘the one'."

"Well let's hope you're right." He laid a ten on the table. "You need a drive home?"

"No, I've got a car back there..." she waved vaguely in the direction of the hospital.

"OK then." He rose. "Listen, Anna. Thanks for the talk. What you said... it makes sense."

"I think occasionally we all need someone to talk some sense into us."

Doug took a pen from his pocket and scrawled his phone number across a napkin. "Call me anytime, OK? If there's anything I can do for you... just call."

"I will." She looked at the napkin and folded it into her shirt pocket. "And Doug? Put your ass on the line. Tell her you love her. It's not as if she doesn't feel the same way."

He didn't reply, simply nodded and ducked out into the gray Chicago morning.

*******

‘All things have a second birth;
The earthquake is not satisfied at once.'
-William Wordsworth

*******

7:39 p.m.

Carol paused before knocking on his door, trying to banish the creepy sense of deja vu that had tugged at her ever since entering Doug's upscale condo building. It had been years since she had stood outside this door, hesitating, and she wondered how many other women had done the same in the interim. She had tried to convince him to come to her place, but he was insistent. She supposed it was inevitable that she would one day have to return to this apartment, and the sooner she got used to it, she reasoned, the better. Raising her hand, she paused briefly before knocking, a series of short, staccato beats.

"It's open." Doug's voice was muffled behind the wall. Drawing a deep breath, she twisted the knob and pushed.

The living room looked different, she noted. More...lived in. There were books and papers littered across the coffee table, the leather couch had a pillow and blanket balled into one corner. It now looked as if the living room was actually used for *living*, as opposed to being just a large foyer leading into the equally as unwelcoming bedroom.

"You gonna stand there all night? Dinner's getting cold." Doug kissed her quickly as he swung past, on his way into the bedroom.

"If dinner's being served in the bedroom, Ross, you're eating alone." Carol toed off her shoes and began to peruse the stack of videos on top of the VCR. No porn, she noted, although the artistic value of ‘91/2 Weeks' was negligible.

"No, no, no. Just changing." She heard paper crinkling, and then he joined her, one hand behind his back.

"What is it?" She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the hidden item.

"This." In his hand he held a single red rose, and he extended it towards her, eyes down, not wanting to see her reaction.

She took it from him, smiling. "What's this for?"

"What's it for?"

She nodded, smelling the rose.

"It's uh... it's for... it's because... can't I just give you something without a reason?"

"Sure. You've never done it before though."

"I'm doing it now, OK? I'm not used to this, don't give me a hard time." He smiled and moved toward the kitchen..

"Better late than never." She trailed after him, the flower pressed to her nose. "I think this is the first no-strings-attached gift you've ever given me."

He leered at her suggestively. "Are you sure there's no strings attached?"

"Ha ha." Eyeing the small boxes heaped on the kitchen table, she rolled her eyes. "Nice home cooked meal, Doug. Chinese from Wong Mah?"

"All I know is the last place I want to be right now is back at that hospital. Which is where we'll end up if I actually attempt to cook." He piled the boxes on two plates and returned to the living room. "Grab the utensils, would you?" he called over his shoulder.

Carol filled a cup with water and dropped the rose in. "Thank you, Doug."

"Thanks for what?"

"The rose."

"No problem. Come on out here. Nothing's worse than cold duck lo mein." She grabbed a handful of chopsticks(for him) and silverware, preparing herself for the inevitable teasing she always got for her lack of skill with chopsticks.

Doug was already heaping rice on both plates, the mess from the coffee table now transplanted to the floor. "You know, I *did* give you that surprise party. Don't forget that."

"How could I not?" She sat cross-legged next to him, giving him a warning look when he eyed the fork in her hand with amusement. " I was finding empties in the strangest places for weeks. Not to mention that shoe."

"No one ever claimed that shoe?"

"No. I can't understand how someone could just walk out and not notice they were missing a shoe."

"Did you see some of the people at that party?" He scooped some noodles into his mouth. "I have never seen those nurses that loaded. And Weaver..."

"She wasn't drunk, Doug."

"She was holding court in your bedroom, getting all misty about her upbringing in Africa."

"So? That means she was drunk?" Carol stabbed a chicken ball and dipped it in plum sauce.

"Yes. That and the fact that she confessed to me, very seriously I might add, that many men found her crutch an incredible turn-on."

"Oh fuck off."

"I swear. And then she asks if Mark had ever said anything about her to me."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, now that's just sick. How come you never told me about this before?"

"I dunno. I guess Kerry was pretty mortified, she couldn't look me in the face for days."

"Kerry and Mark? Man. Imagine the two of them-"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to eat over here. Picturing my best friend and my boss bumping uglies isn't exactly appetizing."

"You brought it up."

"And I'll be bringing everything else up if we don't quit with this line of conversation." He reached for the soy sauce, drowned his rice in it, and dug in with gusto.

Carol watched him a few moments, suddenly very buoyed, happy. Here they were, talking like best friends, as if nothing had changed between them in the past week. And yet, they were quickly moving towards becoming lovers again. She realized, with relief, that the two did not have to be mutually exclusive. That Doug could be both her best friend and her lover, each complementing and compounding on the other.

"What is it, Carol? You still thinking about Kerry and Mark?"

"No..no." She snapped out of her reverie. "Pass me the lo mein?"

********

Doug picked up the clicker beside him on the couch and turned off the VCR. "Well, that movie sucked."

"Yeah. Even 91/2 Weeks would have been better."

"You saw that on the TV, huh?"

"Sure did. Pervert." She sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa between his legs. Remnants of their dinner littered the coffee table in the form of small, grease-stained cardboard boxes. Carol reached for a half-empty bottle of wine and refilled her glass. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not?"

"I'll get drunk."

"On three glasses of wine? Not likely. I've seen you drink, Carol, and you can really put it away." One hand dropped to her head and began to idly play with her hair.

"I'm Russian, it's on my blood."

"I'll never forget the time you drank me under the table...."

"With vodka shooters. Christ, in my family we were weaned on vodka."

He wound a curl around his finger and released it, watching it spring back to rest against her shoulder. "You told Helen about this?"

"This morning."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did she have to say?"

"She said I'm crazy. Then she said it was about time I got a man."

"That's your mother for you." He rubbed her scalp, prompting a small sigh.

"That's nice.... she did say, though, that at Christmas you appeared to be very nice young man."

"Little does she know..."

She laughed and tilted her head into his palm, enjoying the impromptu scalp massage. His fingers knit through her hair, caressing and rubbing gently.

"I love you." His voice was barely a whisper.

"What?" She stiffened, unsure of whether she had heard him correctly. His hand stopped it's soothing movements, dropping to rest lightly against her neck.

"I said I love you."

She twisted around towards him, searching his face. She wore an expression of shock, mouth slightly open, her eyes glassy. His eyes were averted, the muscles at his jaw flexing nervously. Reaching up, she slowly pushed against his chin until he faced her.

"Say it again."

"I love you." Two sets of frightened brown eyes locked, and a thick silence settled over the room. He bravely faced her inquisitive gaze, though she could see he longed to move out her line of sight. Just to her left, one of his hands gripped his knee tightly, the nailbeds almost white with tension. His hand was trembling, she realized with wonder. She laid her hand over his to still the trembling, then rested her cheek against his opposite knee.

"You mean it, don't you?"

"Do I look like I'm trying to get you into bed?" She shook her head against his thigh. "So believe me, OK?" He squeezed her hand.

Rising from the floor, Carol sat beside him. Guiding his chin up, she kissed him, twice, softly. Doug sighed audibly in relief. He had half expected her to slap him, or cry, or run from the apartment. Now he waited for her to reciprocate, to say the words. But instead she leaned in and kissed him again, flicking her tongue along his lower lip. He pulled back.

"Do you love me?" It sounded pathetic, he knew, but it was honest, plaintive.

"Don't ask me that, Doug." Her voice was tired, sad. Shifting slightly, he moved as if to get up. "No. Don't." She held his hands in her own and talked to them, unable to face him directly. "It's not that I don't love you... I just don't know if it's...fair... for me to say I do, when I don't know. I mean, Tag and Shep.. they would say they loved me, and I just went cold inside. I would say the words, but I'm not sure if I knew what I was saying."

"Is it the same with me as with them?"

"No. Not at all. But I felt so bad, knowing that I was kind of leading them on, letting them think I loved them... and I didn't hate them, I just didn't love them. It's not that I didn't want to... Doug?"

"Yeah."

"This is going to sound stupid, but... I don't know what it feels like. I mean, I could love you, but I'm not sure I'd know it if I did."

"You'd know it," he said with quiet conviction.

"I'm afraid I'll never..." Her voice cracked and she didn't try to fight it, letting herself cry openly. Doug's face was strained, but he reached for her and held her, stroking her back and making soothing sounds as she cried against his chest.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought... I thought it'd make you happy."

"It does." She looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Really, it does. I want to deserve it, though."

"You do." He kissed her forehead. "I don't need you to say you love me to keep loving you."

"I'm very fond of you. More than anyone else I know. And I think... I think I'm not far from loving you..."

"Promise me one thing." He cupped her cheek in his hand.

"What?"

"Promise you won't ever say it unless you mean it."

She dropped a kiss to his palm. "I promise."

"Good." Smiling gently, he loosened his grip on her. "Now why don't we move on to a lighter topic."

She shook her head. "No."

"No?"

"No. I don't want to talk."

"OK." Confused, he folded his hands and awaited her next move.

She shifted and swung over to sit astride him, ducking her head to kiss a hot line up his neck to his ear. "I want to show you how fond I am of you."

"You don't have to show me. I know."

"But I want to," she murmured against his ear. He felt his resolve crumbling as her mouth softly suckled the lobe.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to." Her hands worked the buttons of his shirt, undoing it. "Let me."

"I'm not gonna argue..."

She smiled and smoothed the shirt back from his chest, exposing him, tugging it free from his pants and dropping it to the floor beside them. Her nails scratched across his belly. "Do you know how sexy you are when you're not trying to be suave?"

"I think I'm learning." The sentence ended with a groan as her hand cupped him through his jeans. Rubbing gently, she kissed him, moving her tongue in and out of his mouth with the same leisurely rhythm. He hardened with a swiftness that surprised him, and responded by returning the kiss roughly, gripping her shoulders and pulling her closer, pressing his mouth hard against hers, without finesse. Their tongues tangled, reaching in, teeth occasionally clashing as they kissed hungrily, desperately. She pulled away first, breathing heavily through open, kiss-swollen lips. Backing off his lap, she stood and walked a few feet away, then turned back to him.

He watched, dazed, as she undid the buttons of her short-sleeved sweater, head bent, her hair falling across her face. When the buttons were undone, she stood straight and shrugged it from her shoulders, letting it fall to a wine-colored puddle at her feet. She wore a black lace demi-bra, just a tiny little thing that barely covered the pink of her nipples.

"You like?"

"Yeah." His throat felt very dry.

Watching his every reaction, she undid her belt and leaned over to slide off her jeans. He stared unabashed at her cleavage as she leaned over, at their weight only slightly bound by a scrap of lace. Righting herself, she watched in pleasure as his eyes widened and his breathing noticeably quickened. The matching panties were just as small, black and lacy. Her nipples tightened at the expression of naked desire on his face. Just one more thing, she thought, one more thing before putting him out of his misery. Turning her back to him, she leaned over to pick up her sweater, keeping her legs straight.

"I don't want this to get wrinkled," she remarked casually, remaining leaned over as she leisurely folded the sweater. Doug made moaned audibly. The panties were french-cut, almost a g-string, but with a wider strip of lace dividing the middle. She was leaning over, obviously enjoying the tease, exposing her almost naked ass to him, tempting him to reach out and touch, to press his face into her heated core and show her that two could tease. Instead he chose to let her take control, for it seemed from the excited flush on her skin as she turned back towards him, that she was getting off on it.

"I want to show you how fond I am of you," she purred, standing between his legs, staring down at him. He sat, transfixed, as she reached behind and undid the bra, sliding the straps slowly down one arm, then the next, before dropping it to the couch. She bent over him and gripped the back of the couch, her breasts swinging close to his face. Grabbing her hips to steady her, he gave in to temptation and let his tongue curl around on nipple, prompting a hiss from her and a shift as she moved closer, to allow him easier access to her breasts. He blew across her nipples, and they tightened further, turning a deep raspberry color. One hand roamed her thighs and ass as he contentedly suckled at her sensitized nipples, encouraging the slow bucking of her hips with the hand at her waist. He trailed his fingers down the lace-covered crack of her ass, letting his fingers reach between her legs, his touch feather-light on the damp cotton there. She moaned imploringly and spread her legs wider, but he didn't let his touch get any more deliberate; he squeezed and massaged her ass and thighs and belly, but when he made his way back to the center of her, his fingers danced almost imperceptibly over the heat and wetness he found there. She tried to press herself against his hand, but he was quicker, and he smiled as he withdrew his hand from between her legs and returned it to her hip.

Moving to kneel next to him on the couch, she struggled with his belt and zipper. Shoving his pants down with one hand, she pulled out his penis and began stroking it with the other, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want me, Doug?" Her voice was husky.

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

What was the right answer? If he said yes, she'd think everything he had said before was a ruse to get her in bed... and if he said no, he'd be lying outright. His mind fought to piece together a good answer, but his concentration kept wandering to the hand that gripped him firmly, sliding up and down with an excruciating, leisurely pace. Honesty, he decided, was the best policy.

"Yes. I want you." The words were ragged with desire.

"I want to show you how fond I am of you, " she repeated, leaning over to kiss him deeply. Oh Jesus, this is it, he thought, mind whirling. She's gonna sit on my lap and fuck me right here, sitting up on the couch.

Instead she slid back to the floor, tugged his pants from his ankles and knelt between his legs. She licked her lips and looked up at his face, at the agonized expression there.

"You don't have to do this," he said through gritted teeth.

"I want to." And she truly did. After witnessing him pleasure himself the other day, her mind had been crowded with thoughts of performing the same act on him, with her hands and mouth, of recreating the same lost expression on his face, except this time it would be real, she would be there with him, as opposed to watching surreptitiously or inhabiting the frenzied fantasies of his mind. She had never been particularly fond of going down on men, and had done it only rarely with Shep, and never with Tag. But with Doug she wanted to do it, and found, to her surprise, that the thought of going down on him turned her on much more than the other times had turned her off.

She licked a fine line up the shaft, tongue circling the ridge of flesh just under the head, then returned to the base, flattening her tongue and licking up slowly, dragging her tongue, studiously avoiding contact with the tip of him. Scratching his thighs, she kissed him, wet, sucking kisses on his belly, shaft, balls, upper thighs. He moaned and shifted on the couch, squirming down a bit so that he sat on the edge. Gripping him firmly, she stroked up and down, while nuzzling between his legs, taking in the warm, slightly sweaty scent of him. Gently, she suckled at the sensitive globes of his testicles, his breath hissing in painful pleasure as she stimulated this hyper-sensitive part, always gently, never crossing the line towards pain. Lifting her head, she smiled evilly at him, and, maintaining eye contact, flicked her tongue over the tip of his penis, tasting the salty moisture there. His head dropped back against the back of the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. She lowered her mouth over him again and again, never sucking, just letting him slide leisurely in and out, wetly. He groaned and arched his hips toward her teasing mouth, and only then did she start to suck, softly, moving her hand in time with the leisurely pace she had set. Her tongue roved, lapping sensuously against the fold of skin on the underside of his penis as she sucked. This prompted a loud moan from him, and his hips jerked up abruptly, momentarily choking her. Pulling back slightly, she laid her hands on his hips to control the depth of his unconscious thrusting, and returned to sucking him, increasing the pressure, highly aroused herself at the throb of him inside her, at his slow loss of control, and at the thought that she was capable of bringing him to this. Then his hand was on her head and she stiffened, hating the feeling of being forced down. But he wasn't pressing her down, simply sweeping her hair back from her face, gathering it in his hand. He wanted to see her face, wanted to watch her moving between his legs, watch his cock sliding in and out from between her lips. She smiled up at him and increased the suction suddenly, her head bobbing quickly as the pressure increased. He felt himself quickly losing all control, the pressure building swiftly as she brought him closer and closer to the edge. He released his grip on her hair and nudged her chin up. Her hands continued the steady rhythm as she lifted her head to look at him questioningly.

"I'm... I'm going to.." He struggled to form the words, instead gasping out ragged half-sentences. "...soon..."

"That's OK." She smiled slowly and ducked her head, the wet heat enclosing the tip of him again, sucking, one hand cupping his balls as they tightened and drew up.

The phone rang. There was no question for either of them, no one made even the slightest move to answer, but Carol eased the pressure on him a little, wanting to wait for the interruption to end before letting him come.

The machine came on, and Doug's voice filled the room, punctuated by little gasps and grunts from the corporeal Doug, whose eyes were tightly shut, hands pressing desperately against the leather of the couch.

‘Hi, you've reached 555-2122, please leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you.'

And then another voice invaded the room.

"Hi Doug, it's Anna. Just calling to say hi and thanks for breakfast this morning. How about I take you for dinner tomorrow after work? That is, if you're not already occupied with your lovely nurse. Anyway, give me a call, you know the number, I should be up late."

It was a full ten seconds before Doug noticed that Carol had stopped. She sprung up suddenly, pushing off his hips, shoving him back into the couch, his penis slapping wetly against his belly.

"What?" he asked, confused. She was gathering up her clothes, struggling with them, stuffing her bra in her pocket and shrugging into her sweater. And then it dawned on him. Anna's message. Oh *fuck*.

"Carol... it...that was nothing..."

"Nothing?" She was haphazardly doing up the buttons on her sweater.

"We went for breakfast after work this morning... all we did was talk about you..."

"Sure. Did you talk about me before or after you screwed her?" She pushed her feet into her shoes and reached for her purse. He followed her and grabbed her upper arms, swinging her around to face him.

"Don't go. Let me explain."

She shook him off violently. "Don't. You. Fucking. Touch. Me."

"It's nothing like what you think, really." His voice was high, desperate. He tried to grasp at anything that would slow her down enough to let him explain. ‘Please, Carol, don't go. I love you."

She laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Nice try." Halfway out the door, she turned to address him, her voice low, harsh and choked with tears. "Don't *ever* come near me again."

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

‘Gestern liebt'ich
Heute lied'ich'
-G.E. Lessing

(Yesterday I loved, today I suffer)

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

5:56 a.m.

"Whoa, girl, you look bad."

"Thanks, Chuny." Carol stuffed her purse under the desk.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, but you sure you're up to par?"

"No, I'm fine." Like hell. Going out the door this morning, she caught a frightening glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror, face puffy, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. No makeup and her hair unwashed, pulled back in an elastic. Regarding herself, she thought she looked like a corpse or a smack addict. Or someone who had just had a very hard few days.

******

What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

-William Shakespeare, Macbeth

**********

Coming in from Doug's house, she made a bee-line for her emergency cigarettes, hidden at the back of a kitchen drawer. A reformed smoker, she only did this during times of great stress, times like now. She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, choking a little at the unfamiliar burn. Holding her head in her hand, she began to cry- great, jagged sobs that spoke of frustration, and pain, sobs that only served to exhaust her further, though she knew she would not be sleeping tonight.

The phone was ringing. It was him, calling to beg forgiveness, to ask for just one more in a long line of chances. She was tempted to answer, to hear his excuses and rail at him, and learn that maybe, just maybe, there had been a huge misunderstanding and he had been telling the truth.

Crying, she shook her head. This was Doug Ross she was talking about, the man who had slept his way through most of County General, if not most of Cook County itself. And she had been taken in by him for a second time.

The phone rang again. And again.

"Shut up!" she shouted, lighting another cigarette off the first. How could she have let herself fall for him again? He truly seemed to have changed. He had told a number of people he was in therapy now, cut down on the booze, and she hadn't seen him with a woman for months, save for herself. And yet this wasn't definitive proof he had changed. All it proved was that he had developed a new approach.

Fuck. *Fuck*. He had said he loved her and she had believed him, to the point where she could see herself loving him in return, opening herself to him, staying with him. For a very long time.

She yanked the phone out of the wall, silencing it abruptly, and collapsed on to the couch, the sounds of the ringing echoing in her head. He could call. Let him. She wasn't answering. She was finished with Doug Ross, and wouldn't be answering again.

********

The line was busy, it was obvious she had taken the phone off the hook. Once again, he grabbed his car keys and left the apartment, this time intent on not returning to the house, but actually driving to Carol's home, to try to talk some sense into her.

Doug drove slowly, dazed, in the general direction of her house, stunned that things had taken such a horrible turn. He had told her he loved her; and he had meant it. To his mild surprise, she took him at his word, and he had felt buoyed by an insane joy- all of a sudden the pain of the past decade was soothed, the lonely months of restructuring his life seemed undeniably worth it. He would be willing to go through almost anything to earn the love of this woman, hell, he'd be willing to do it just to see her smile or laugh.

The driver behind him leaned on the horn, jerking him out of his reverie. Rubbing his eyes, Doug hit the gas and lurched back into traffic, away from downtown, closer to Carol's neighborhood.

He could see how she would read Anna's message wrong. It sounded a bit like- no, *a lot* like- the messages that had crowded his machine for years, including the years spent with Carol. He doubted very much that she would believe his explanations, at least not until she had calmed down enough to hear him out. Maybe he could ask Anna to call her, to back him up, explain, if only she would just plug in her damn phone.

Throwing the car in park, he noticed that the living room lights were on. Not giving himself time to change his mind, he bounded up the porch stairs and threw himself against the door, knocking hard and persistent.

"Carol... Carol!"

"Go away, Doug." Her voice was hard, coming from the other side of the door.

"Please, Carol. Please open the door." He pressed his face to the crack of the door, as if this would somehow help his muffled words be better understood.

"Go away or I'm calling the cops."

"You don't understand... just hear me out. Anna and I had breakfast because I wanted to talk about you-"

"Go home."

"And she was the one who made me realize I love you and that I should tell you-"

"Please go home." He could hear the tears in her voice.

"I'm not going home."

"If you truly care for me, Doug, as much as you say you do, you will go home now and you will stay away. That is the best thing for you to do. Just stay away."

His face wedged into the doorjamb, he swore he could feel the weight of her, leaning against the other side, her lips separated from his by a few inches of wood.

"If I leave now," He tried to even the tight wavering in his voice. "If I leave now, will that prove to you that I'm sincere?" No answer. "But I'll do it if that's what it takes." Still no reply. "Carol?"

"Yes."

"Is this what you want? Really what you want?"

"...Yes." Her voice was barely audible.

"Fine. You know where to find me when you're ready." Stepping back, he paused momentarily, wanting to force his way into the house and confront her now. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and went back to the Cherokee. Before pulling away, he looked back at the house. The lights were off, but he swore he saw her in the front window, staring at him, quickly retreating when he glanced up.

Doug gunned the engine and prepared for a long night on the road. He couldn't return to his apartment, not tonight, not when his home was still fresh with the memory of her presence. Instead, he sought to drive endlessly, and as he drove, come to terms with her inevitable absence in his life.

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

‘Our throats were tight as tourniquets,
Our feet were bound with splints, but now,
Like convalescents intimate and gauche,
We speak through sickly smiles and warn
With the stubborn saw of common sense,
The grim joke and the banal resolution.
The traffic moves around with care,
But we remain, touching a wound
That opens to our richest horror.
Already old, the question Who shall die?
Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?'

-Karl Shapiro, Auto Wreck

********

Carol had just finished inserting an IV line when she saw him walk past, head down, not noticing her. It was the first time she had seen him since that night at his apartment. Guiltily, she had called in sick for the past few days, unwilling and unable to face Doug, or for that matter, Anna. Steeling herself, she had come to work today and realized, with a mixture of relief and dread, that they both started work about halfway through her shift. So that was six hours of freedom. And six hours of hiding.

She took her time taping the IV in place, smoothing the surgical tape over the patient's arm until it lay flat and wrinkle-free against his skin.

"Carol? You busy?" Kerry Weaver propped the door open with her crutch. She looked harried.

"Uh...no.. Not really."

"Well, we have a multiple stab wound coming in."

"Be right there." Waiting a few moments, Carol took a few deep breaths and pushed out into the hall. Doug and Anna were nowhere to be seen. For now.

*****

"She's here today, huh?" Anna looked at him over the feverish little boy that lay between them.

"I didn't see her." Doug peered into the child's ear with an otoscope.

"I did. But she didn't see me."

"How'd she look?"

"Not so hot." A brief wince flickered across his face. "Let me talk to her, Doug."

"No. It'd do more harm than good." He picked up a tongue depressor. "Open up and say ‘ah'... besides, she wouldn't believe a word you said."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

"So you're going to just give up?"

"No, I am not going to just give up." His tone was sharp.

A small voice came from the exam table. "Are you guys fighting?"

"No, we're not fighting, Roberto, we're just talking." Anna smoothed the boy's dark hair.

"Sounds like fighting."

"It's not." Doug patted him on the arm. "I think you're going to be OK, pal. I'm going to go talk to your mom and soon you can go home." He stood and Anna joined him. Her voice was low.

"I'm sorry, Doug. I shouldn't have called... at the very least I should have thought over what I said before I said it."

"We've been through this a million times. You did nothing wrong. Now, do you want to talk to the kid's mother or should I?"

"I'll do it."

"Fine." They turned in tandem towards the chairs of the waiting room, just as Carol exited the supply closet with two large handfuls of gauze. They stared for a long moment, shocked at the sight of each other, before Carol turned on her heel and strode into Trauma One.

"Shit," Anna said under her breath. The muscles in Doug's jaw tightened and twitched. He looked toward the door to Trauma One, the inhaled deeply and moved to follow Carol into the trauma room.

********

Gripping the gurney, Carol ran to keep up with Kerry. It never failed to amaze her how quickly Kerry moved, despite her handicap. Kerry was frantically assessing the patient as she ran, looking increasingly more worried.

"There's two!" The paramedics were wheeling in a second victim, who was conscious and struggling.

Kerry slammed backwards through the door of the trauma room, dragging the gurney with her. "Someone page Mark, Doug and Del Amico. Carol, you hit Trauma Two and help them out, Carter you're with me. Page Benton, too."

Carol entered Trauma Two just as Anna swung through the door from the hallway. Doug and Mark we're already shouting orders, Doug's face a mask of concentration.

"Ah, Jesus, he's a mess. I need surgical down here. Page the new one- that British woman...what's her name..." The better half of Mark's right hand was buried in the man's chest cavity.

Carol went to the phone. "Corday. Elizabeth Corday." Doug looked up sharply at the sound of her voice, locking eyes with her briefly. Anna, too, glanced up and noticed the stare that passed between them. She was more frightened of that situation than the one that lay before her on the gurney, his life bleeding out of dozens of wounds. Palpating what felt like a shattered femur, she addressed Carol, who had just hung up.

"Get me ortho, too."

Carol ignored her and returned to the patient, calmly hanging a blood bag and tossing the old one.

"Carol, did you hear me? Get ortho." Anna's voice was edgy.

Her head bent over a supply drawer, Carol replied softly. "I heard you."

"So do it."

"Do it yourself." Her tone was low, almost threatening.

Mark's eyes flickered up at the two of them. "Wendy, page ortho, please."

A jet of blood spattered across Doug's shirt. "Shit."

"What was that, Doug? You know to stay away from the femoral artery with those bone shards!" Mark was getting frustrated.

"Distracted...sorry."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Nothing."

"Speak for yourself," Carol said as she injected IV meds.

Mark gave up any semblance of courtesy, his primary focus being the critical patient before him. "And what is *your* problem, Nurse Hathaway?"

Carol stared at Doug pointedly. "Nothing. Nothing at all." Doug, struck by her direct attack, dropped the cautery stick he held.

"OK. Enough. Carol, you're out of here. Lily can handle this." Mark didn't even look up as he dismissed her.

"But-"

"Carol, out. Now." Lily took the blood bag from her hands and pressed her lips together sympathetically. Stunned, her hand hovered, empty, before she dropped her arm and left the trauma room.

"OK, what do we have here?" Elizabeth Corday's unfamiliar accent commanded immediate attention.

"Multiple stab wounds, shattered femur, massive internal bleeding, nicked femoral artery-" Mark saw Doug tense up. "Where's ortho?"

Wendy shrugged. "They said someone's on their way."

"Well, call them again."

Elizabeth was already bent over the patient, pushing Doug aside. This did not pass unnoticed by Mark. "You can leave, too, Doug."

Doug left without hesitation, peeling off his gloves and dropping them to the floor.

Anna shivered. This was worse than she had thought.

********

She was arranging pens. Red with red, blue with blue. Markers evenly spaced along the edge of the call board. Carol occupied herself with menial tasks, furious and upset, unsure as to whether to start throwing things or to go to bed and cry. The door to the trauma room opened and the gurney was wheeled out, Elizabeth in the lead. Mark exited a few moments later, followed by Anna, who swiftly slipped away.

Watching from beneath lowered lids, she saw Mark wave somebody over. Doug stepped into her line of vision, leaning against the wall, his chin pressed to his chest as he always did when feeling guilty or threatened. She had always thought the gesture somewhat endearing, but now it appeared to be nothing more than another facet to the deception that permeated his life.

Mark's voice rose a little. "If we weren't short-staffed..."

Doug ran his palm over his hair, nodded curtly, then walked away.

Then Mark looked at her. Carol stumbled a little, trying to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping.

"Carol."

"Listen, Mark-"

"Don't bother. I don't want to hear it." He paused and drew a deep breath. "You know, Carol, I think you're a great person. And an excellent nurse. Now I don't know what's going on with you and Doug, and as a friend, I say that there's nothing I'd rather see than the two of you happy together. But as your superior, I have to say that your behavior today was wholly unlike you. It was unprofessional, childish, and above all, dangerous. I'm sorry your personal life is suffering, really I am, but keep it out of this E.R.."

"I understand."

"I hope so. Because if I ever see a performance like that one again, I'll have to report it. And you're damn lucky it was me in there and not Weaver."

"I understand." Fists clenched on her thighs, her nails bit into her palms, gouging four painful crescents.

Mark's voice softened. "Take the day off. Go home, relax."

"I'm fine, Mark. I can do my job."

"It wasn't a suggestion, Carol."

It took her a few moments to comprehend his words. No, he wasn't suggesting she go home, he was ordering her to, but trying to be gentle about it. Anger and shame welled up in her and she felt her throat clench. Not here, she silently prayed. Head down, she nodded and croaked out an ‘OK' before moving away from him, to the lounge, to fetch her things and return to the safety and solitude of her house.

*******

Anna was rinsing out her coffee mug when she walked in. Carol stopped dead, then swung open the door of the refrigerator, rummaging inside for the paper bag containing the uneaten dinner she had prepared for herself. Effectively shielded from Anna's eyes, she spoke from inside the fridge. "I want to apologize. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that at work."

"You shouldn't have spoken to me like that at all, whether we're at work or not."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Carol muttered.

"Well, I would!" Frustrated, Anna slammed her mug down on the counter.

Carol jumped, startled, then closed the fridge and turned to face Anna, her face flushed and angry. "You're the last person who should be telling others how to behave."

"I never touched him." Anna's voice was low and deadly serious.

Carol regarded her steadily, mere moments away from losing her calm and struggling to maintain it.

"I never touched him. The only contact we've had outside of work is to talk about you."

"I'm sure."

"Well I certainly am! All I ever hear is how wonderful you are and how much he wants you back and how much he's hurting and it makes me sick inside. It makes me sick, Carol, because I for one would kill to have a man like him crazy in love with me. They're rare."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I don't think you do! If you did you wouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions, to throw him away-"

"He threw me away!"

"Stop being so goddamn stubborn! Look around you, Carol! He's been entirely devoted to you for months- he hasn't even *looked* at another woman because as far as he's concerned, you're the only woman that exists! Open your eyes, Carol, because you're about to walk away from something really good." Anna drew a shaky breath. "I swear I never touched him."

Carol was staring at her hands, splayed across the table. "I believe you."

"Then hear him out."

She looked up at Anna, her eyes bright with tears. "I don't know if I can." And she quickly left the lounge, head down, seeking the refuge of her home, not wanting to think anymore, but condemned to nevertheless.

******

Cleopatra: If it be love indeed, tell me how much.
Antony: There's a beggary in the love that can be reckoned.
Cleopatra: I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.
Antony: Then must thou find out new heaven, new earth.

-William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

*********

By the time she got home, it was dark and raining hard. Fitting, she thought, for her current mood. Stripping off her work clothes, she flipped on the TV and channel surfed, distracted. She balled up the pink scrubs, shoved them in the laundry hamper, and shrugged into some roomy and comfortable sweats. On the way back to the couch, she made a stopover in the kitchen, grabbing a big spoon and a quart of Rocky Road ice cream. She laughed bitterly. How perfect. Curling into the corner of the couch, she hungrily dug into the ice cream. Thunder crashed and the rain began to fall violently, beating against the windows and roof, reverberating through the room. She turned up the volume on the television.

Maybe she should call him. And then what? He'd want to come over and she wasn't ready for that, not yet. But she had to talk to him, she couldn't avoid him forever. Anna's outburst had surprised her, but had rung true. She believed her. And yet, knowing that Anna and Doug had never been together didn't lower the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, a sensation that she couldn't put her finger on, a sensation that terrified her in it's unfamiliarity. Carol had always prided herself on knowing herself, and this whole incident had shaken her to the core and left her feeling scared and vulnerable.

There was a heavy, urgent knocking at the door. She went to the door and looked through the peephole, though she knew who it was. Doug stood on the porch, drenched and shivering.

"Carol, let me in!" She jumped back a little as he began pounding on the door again. She opened it halfway.

"Doug, go home."

"No. Not this time. I'm not going home. I'm staying right here until you let me speak to you."

"In the rain?"

"I don't care."

"It'll be a long, cold wait, Doug. Just go home. We'll talk later."

"Now." He was emphatic.

"Have a good wait, then." She shut the door and stood still, listening until his steps retreated back down the porch. Moving quietly into the living room, she lifted the corner of the curtain and peeked out the window.

Doug leaned against the passenger door of his Cherokee, arms wrapped around himself, rain streaming over him. He was soaked to the skin and wore an expression of grim determination.

Another loud thunderclap and the rain began to sheet down blindingly. She could hardly see him, but he stood still on the sidewalk, resolute.

Sighing, she yanked open the front door. "Doug, get in here." Leaving the door standing open, she went to fetch some towels. When she returned, Doug was in the foyer, dripping, a duffel bag at his feet. She thrust the towels into his arms. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

He smiled crookedly. "Look who's talking."

"What's in the bag?"

"Change of clothes."

She shook her head in wonder. "Well, you know where the bathroom is."

He edged past her and disappeared down the hall.

Carol returned the ice cream to the freezer and went back to the couch, pressing herself into the corner, flipping channels randomly, her mind flying.

Doug entered the room, settling into an armchair just to her left. She ignored him, feigning absorption in a Cubs game. He continued to stare at her, and she fought not to turn her head, instead tracking him with her peripheral vision. Leaning over, Doug turned off the television at the console, rendering her remote control useless. She placed it on the coffee table deliberately and turned to face him. Matching his gaze calmly despite her whirling emotions, she waited for him to speak.

"Anna said she spoke to you."

"She did."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you believe what she said?" The tension was palpable as he awaited her reply.

"Yes."

He sighed and relaxed back into the chair. "Thank God."

"That doesn't make everything OK, Doug."

"Excuse me?"

"I, I..." She tried to put a name to the emotions she was experiencing, but to no avail. Instead, she decided to take the easy way out. "I don't know if I can be with you, Doug. I can't trust you."

"What?" His tone was high-pitched and incredulous.

"I don't know if I can trust you." The sound of her voice was as uncertain as she felt about the words she was saying.

"What have I done to warrant a remark like that?" Anger rose at the flippant way she dismissed him. "I have nothing but the best of intentions when it comes to you! I busted my ass to impress you! I second-guessed everything I said and did for fear of scaring you away, and you know something, Carol? I was treating you pretty decently. Better than I ever have anyone else. And I certainly don't deserve this kind of treatment!"

"You don't think so?"

"No, I don't! I think I deserve an explanation for this!"

Like an animal backed into a corner, she lashed out with the most convenient and injurious words she could find. "You want an explanation?" Carol swung to face him, angry. "How about Karen Davy? And Rachel Suffard? How about every birthday, every special occasion, forgotten?" She drew a ragged breath. "How about having my stomach pumped after an OD?"

"You did that to yourself!"

Lighting flashed and illuminated the room, freezing their expressions, then plunged them into darkness.

"Did you say that just to hurt me?" Her voice was quiet, wounded.

"Not, goddammit, it's the truth! I take full responsibility for my behavior years ago, and it *was* years ago, but I have beat myself up over that incident for far too long, Carol. I was an asshole, yes, but I didn't make you do that. Even on my worst days, I never did anything that would have justified that. I would never wish that on you." All he could hear was the jagged rhythm of her crying. In the dim light of the moon, he saw her sitting, knees drawn up, head resting on them. He felt an overwhelming urge to go to her, to try to ease her pain, but he had to finish. Lowering his tone, he continued. "God, Carol, I care for you so much. Everything seemed to be working out perfectly before this...misunderstanding. I *know* we can be really, really good. Give it a chance. Please."

"Doug..." Just his name, uttered in confusion and need. She needed him. This realization came upon her suddenly, strongly, and reawakened a host of fresh tears.

He couldn't stay away any longer. Wrapping his arms around her, he cradled her head to his chest and stroked her back, soothing, as she cried. She didn't resist. After a few moments, she relaxed into him and let herself cry, needing his presence, the sudden safety it afforded.

"Carol?"

"Yeah."

"Why... why, if you find it so easy to walk away from me- why is this upsetting you so much?"

"It's not easy Doug." Her tears were dying down to shaky hiccups. "Do you honestly think I want you to go?"

"I hope not," he said into her hair.

"I don't. I don't want you to go." And then it came to her. Why she had been so devastated by a misinterpreted betrayal, why being held by him felt like coming home. The sensation was new and indescribable, both exhilarating and frightening in the same breath. "I love you."

"What?" His voice was almost inaudible.

"That's why it hurt so much. I love you, Doug. If I didn't, it wouldn't have hurt like that."

He held on tighter, pressing his cheek to her skull. "Don't leave me." His request was rough with emotion. He had laid himself bare before her, and waited breathlessly for her reaction.

She pulled back and looked into his face. The kiss was almost chaste in its solemnity, brief but tangible. "I love you."

He stroked his thumb across her cheek. "Say it again."

"Doug..." She smiled, embarrassed.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

His answering kiss was slow and firm. She leaned into it, as his hands cupped her jaw. "Again."

"I love you," she breathed into his mouth.

"Again."

And so she repeated the three words like an incantation as their kisses deepened, murmuring under his lips, his tongue. Sinking back on the couch, they drank from each other, the kisses more erotic than anything they had had ever experienced. They strained to get closer, tongues tangling, sighing in counterpoint to the harsh sound of the rain slamming the house.

Doug stroked her sides, arms, thighs, studiously avoiding erogenous zones. Soon she was making small sounds into his mouth, moving under him, squirming, trying to gain some leverage. Though he hated to, he backed up a bit, allowing her some space. She lifted her sweatshirt off smoothly, and casting a quick look down, immediately regretted her choice of lingerie. Plain beige sports bra. Flushing with embarrassment, she offered a silent prayer of thanks to the storm that had cut off the electricity. Hastily, she reached back to undo the clasp.

"Don't." His hand rested gently at the bend of her elbow.

"It *awful*, Doug."

"What? This?" He fingered the strap on her right shoulder, nudging it over the curve of her shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with this." He pushed at the other strap with his tongue until it, too, fell, and both straps hung loosely around her upper arms.

Nuzzling her shoulder, he dipped a hand into her bra and sought out a nipple, circling with his fingers, the tiny piece of flesh stiffening under his touch. She sighed, a sigh that turned into a gasp as he pinched the nipple, pulling gently, elongating it, teasing. Snaking her hand behind her back, she renewed her efforts to dispose of the garment, now wanting to be rid of it not because of shame, but instead to shamelessly expose herself to his hands and mouth. His hand left her breast and returned to her arm, stilling it. Kissing up her throat, he murmured against her skin.

"You in a hurry?" His response was a low groan as he rubbed the back of his index finger over her aching nipple. "Don't rush. We have all night." He moved back up to her lips and kissed her deeply, their tongues winding together, exploring each other's mouths with frenetic leisure. As they kissed, he shrugged off his shirt, then relented and undid Carol's bra, dropping it over the side of the couch.

She smirked up at him. "You in a hurry?"

The smirk disappeared as he stroked, open-palmed, over the satiny skin of her chest. "I love your breasts." Dipping his head, he began to trace the pale blue veins of one with his tongue, skirting the quivering center. He drew closer and closer, teasing, again and again, until she brought one hand down to his face and, fingers pressing against his jaw, guided his mouth to her nipple. Smiling, he flicked his tongue across the sensitive bud, twice, before beginning to suck, leisurely, knowing how she liked it, how she liked the slow buildup. Her hand still cupped his face, and glancing up, he saw she was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, and the look his saw there was one of naked desire, a look so raw and primal that his groin jolted in response and he knew he was lost. He began to suck harder, relishing the arch of her back as she struggled to prolong the contact, the feeling of her fingers scratching his scalp and shoulders and back. He licked and sucked at one breast and then the other until he felt her squirming under him, wrapping her legs around his and arching her pelvis, rubbing wantonly against his crotch. Returning to her mouth, he kissed her hard, grinding himself against her.

"Doug..." Her hand was between them, and the zipper of his jeans sliced open with a hissing sound. Then his penis was in her hands, soft and hard and painfully erect. "I need... I need...." Her head rolled restlessly on the arm of the couch as she stroked him. He wriggled out of the jeans and kicked them hastily aside. Twisting out from underneath him, she slithered to the floor.

He caught her hand. "Why don't we..." Inclining his head towards the bedroom, he kissed her palm.

"No. Here. I don't think I could get that far." She smiled up at him before falling forward to take him in her mouth, prompting a groan from deep in his throat as her mouth traveled the length of him. This is where it ended last time, he thought, threading his hand into the dark curls of her hair and tugging gently until she withdrew and looked up at him questioningly.

"What?"

He smiled slightly. "No."

"No what?"

"It's not going to end here, not this time."

She released her grip on his penis and smiled wickedly. "I didn't intend it to."

"Well you better quit that then or it will."

"Self-control, Doug, self-control. You gotta get some."

"Oh, well then." Chuckling, he joined her on the floor and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants. " Why don't we see just how much self-control you have." He took off the sweatpants and her underwear in one swift movement and stretched out beside her, idly running his fingers over her belly and thighs, tickling lightly, fingers trailing close to her core, lingering, then withdrawing. Looking into her face, he saw her eyes tightly shut, muscles tense with anticipation, her breath rapid, punctuated by occasional sighs. He skimmed his fingers over the center of her with the lightest of touches, barely there, but enough to sensitize the skin and make her long for fuller contact. A low moan issued from deep in her throat and she spread her legs wantonly, beyond caring about propriety, only wanting him, all of him, his fingers, tongue and cock inside her. Stroking her fully now, he felt the wetness there, and she gasped, arching his pelvis into his hand. The answering jolt in his groin caught him by surprise.

"God, you're so wet," he moaned into her chest before latching onto a nipple, sucking hard while his fingers danced over her folds, circling the stiffness of her clitoris before returning to dip his fingers into the pool of wetness, spreading the slippery fluid. Carol was beyond words, a low hum vibrating in her throat, her head twisting, hands moving restlessly over his back and hair and face. Pulling on his arms, she drew him up and kissed him blindly, drugged by his touch. Wriggling, she squirmed her hips until she could feel his hardness pressing against her core.

"Now.... now..." He felt her hand on him, guiding, urging him on. Right then he wanted more than anything to simply give in and drive into her, fuck her hard and relentless until she screamed, until the unbelievable pressure building inside him was relieved. Instead he clung to the one tenuous thread of control that he had left, and resisted, moving away from the temptation of her hand, and of her heat, and kissed a trail down her abdomen. Pausing for a moment, he breathed hotly into the moist curls, savoring the wild expression on her face before lowering his mouth to the tiny knot of nerves at the top of her narrow slit.

And Carol was lost, knowing nothing but drowning sensation, making desperate incoherent sounds as he licked her clit, varying the pressure, teasing, drawing out her reaction, steadily building. Her fingers dug into the carpet, clutching spasmodically as he brought her to the edge again and again, easing up just enough to stop the inevitable, knowing that this ultimate tease would slowly draw from her a powerfully intense orgasm. He licked her with the lightest of touches, flicking over and over, and suddenly she went very still beneath him, every muscle tensed. One more long, loving taste. She emitted a sharp cry and came in his mouth, pulsing fiercely against his lips and tongue.

Raising above her, he positioned himself between her legs, the swollen head of his cock pressing into her hot opening. He hesitated momentarily. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, reaching up to caress the side of his face, gently.

"Doug." She uttered his name softly, simply, a statement of fact.

He pushed into her, relishing the tightness of the passage surrounding him. Carol's breath hissed and her face briefly clenched with the slight pain and unfamiliar fullness.

"You OK?"

"Mmmmm.. yeah." She arched her pelvis a little. "Don't stop."

And so he allowed himself to sink fully into her, burying himself to the hilt inside her slick heat. Moving slowly at first, he thrust easily, setting a gentle rhythm that she picked up and eagerly followed. He allowed her to set the pace, and went with it when she wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him on faster, squeezing his ass and scratching lightly down his back. Pulling almost all the way out of her, he thrust back in and moved in and out steadily, drowning in the sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. Tossing her head, she gasped in time to his thrusts, the volume increasing as she began to lose herself once again. This time he felt her clench around him, muscles grabbing, then releasing in caressing waves and she arched up, a let out a long, keening wail before collapsing back on the floor, her breath ragged. Doug abandoned all pretense of control and let himself go, thrusting into her still-twitching passage fast and hard, reaching for the hot star that pulsed behind his closed eyelids, the pressure building, building, as he rushed towards it, finally possessing her. The star exploded in white brilliance and he came with a long groan, pouring heat into her, the sensation powerful and overwhelming and seemingly never-ending. But it did end, and he slowly wound down to a stop and let himself fall forward, his head resting on her chest. He ran his thumb over her nipple. She shuddered away from the touch.

"Sensitive," was her drowsy explanation.

He rolled onto his back and, arms around her waist, took her with him so that she lay half across him, one leg tossed across his, one arm flung possessively across his chest, her hand a loose fist on his shoulder. Her breathing was already getting rhythmic and regular. Doug lifted one hand from her waist and gently cradled the back of her head as it lay on his chest.

"I do love you, you know," he whispered softly.

She raised her head and kissed him tenderly. "I know." Looking into his eyes, she saw herself reflected in them, nothing more, nothing less. "I know."

THE END