Playing With Fire

* I wrote this before watching Responsible Parties, so it kind of contradicts some of what happens in that episode. I hope I'm not too confusing.
* Of course, these aren't my characters, and never will be. They belong to Constant-C, NBC, or whomever the Hell they do... you can sue me if you like, but I'm a student and permanently broke, so I really don't think it's worth it.
* I'm British, so please excuse any strange slang or spellings I come out with.
* The song featured is 'Push' by Matchbox 20, available on the Yourself Or Someone Like You album. This wasn't my first choice. The song that featured on the British Sky trailer for The Storm Part II, 'With Or Without You' by U2, was. However, I decided that this was best saved for a story directly concerning that episode.
* Oh, and thanks a bunch to my kind-of-editor-friend, Cat, who helped me sort this story out.
*  If you have any comments or constructive criticism to send me, please send it to the address below.

Playing with Fire
by Jo
dynamojo26@hotmail.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough 
I'm a little bit rusty and I think my head is caving in
And I don't know if I've ever been really loved
By a hand that's touched me
And I feel like something's gonna give
And I'm a little bit angry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There she was. Being secretive as ever. Mark observed Carol placing a gentle hand on her stomach as she bent to pick up the fallen crutch, then glancing around to check there was no-one to see her cringe as her slightly swelling abdomen hindered her descent. It was really beginning to concern him. The way in which she was planning to inform Doug of her predicament seemed mechanical in nature, so unlike the way she had come to treat him over the past year. But, not daring to comment anything more than the occasional warning, he had simply watched, hoping that some brief moment of sanity would change her perspective.

But, it was not to be. Her attitude had hardened, almost as if she had forgotten every good time she had shared with him, and was simply focusing on his faults. He had watched Carol pass comments at work about how she shouldn't have trusted him. They were sly comments, usually given to people she barely knew, and Mark could tell by the look on her face when he had questioned her that she knew she was being cruel and unjust. 

Mark believed that in her heart, Carol was still secretly aching for him. He saw her, when she thought she could not be seen, play with her engagement ring, or flip open her wallet for no other reason than to see his picture on his old staff ID card. But, when he tried to speak to her about how she felt, she simply avoided his questions, changed the topic or somehow managed to find something to distract him with.

She stood up slowly and handed the crutch to  Kerry, who took it with a brief nod and a murmured thank you, and then carried on with her patient. Carol walked away. She had been heading for the lounge, now that her shift was over, and Mark followed her.

Mark knew that she had not realised he was behind her, and she allowed herself to sigh, rubbing her abdomen, and then squeezed the back of her neck with a pained wince. 

"Hey, Carol," Mark greeted as they stepped into the lounge together. She jumped, and spun around to face him with a startled look on her face.

"Oh, Mark, it's you..." She took a deep breath and took her hand away from her belly.

"Why, who did you think it was?" he asked with a smile.

"I don't know." She paused, and stared at him oddly. "Why are you following me, Mark?"

"Well, actually, I was following you because I wondered if you wanted to come out tonight? Elizabeth and I are going down to the British pub downtown. She wants me to try this beer she loves. She asked me just before she went to scrub in if I wanted to ask you to tag along."

Carol smiled appreciatively. Mark noticed her eyes brighten a little, but then they sank. "You know, I would love it. But, I've got to drop some things off at my mothers, and then I think I'm gonna go home and send that fax to Doug... I'm not looking forward to it, but it's been almost three months, and I suppose I ought to tell him." She tossed the remark off casually, as if without a care in the world.

"Oh, okay then," Mark responded, deciding not to push the matter. He knew he would get nowhere, so there was little point.

"I know what he's gonna do," she added calmly. "He's gonna jump on the first plane and come back here for all the wrong reasons. I don't want him to do that."

"So you want him to stay in Portland?"

Carol sighed, and pressed her palms together, as if trying to summon some greater inner strength. "I don't know whether I want him to stay or to come back. All I do know is that I don't want to have to deal with either."

She walked to her locker and took out her jacket and bag. Mark stared at her a moment, amazed she was acting so heartlessly. He could only imagine how devastated Doug would be.

"Well, I wish you luck, then." He smiled gently. She nodded, but he waited, hoping she would sense his silent opposition to her plan. But, she said nothing.

"Are you sure this is how you want to do this?" He prompted, tipping his head on one side to judge her. She nodded again, this time with more conviction.

"Yeah, Mark. He left me. If he had really loved me, he would have stayed. But obviously, I wasn't enough." She said the words with a finality that told Mark it was not what she believed, but rather, it was what she were making herself believe.

"Okay... ... Maybe we'll drop round later?"

"Yeah, sure."

She shrugged her coat on, did up the buttons and then walked out of the lounge, giving Mark a weak smile as she left. He worried about her more each day. She was becoming something she was not.

Later that evening, Carol finished up her chores around the house, putting some washing in the machine and dusting around the kitchen and lounge. She went to the refrigerator and selected a jar of peanut butter. Then, opening the lid on the jar, took out some salt and vinegar potato chips and wandered around the house, looking for things to delay the inevitable. Oh, come on, Carol, she chided herself. Get on with it. She put down the jar and went to the desk. There were still Doug's papers in the drawers, his receipts from all the work they'd done on the house, his accounts. She didn't want to look inside, so she took up a piece of jotterpad paper and began writing...

'Dear Doug,
I'm writing to let you know...' No, too impersonal.

She paused and scrubbed out the line with an eraser, thinking aloud. "What do I want? I don't want to look vulnerable. I don't want him to think I can't cope."

'Dear Doug,
I've been meaning to write for a while now,' 

Better, she thought. Okay, I'm on a roll. 

'But I suppose there's no time like the present. I've discovered I'm pregnant. I wanted you to know this, but I had to be sure of what I was going to do first. I didn't anticipate being a single mother, so this was a very big decision. However, I've decided to go ahead, and I'm going to have the baby. I had some problems early on, with cramping and spotting, and morning sickness, but I had a couple of ultrasounds done, and they found a steady heartbeat. Things are now going well. I want you to know that I don't want you to come back just because of this. I'm perfectly able to work through this on my own, and I don't need you jumping on the plane without thinking. The whole reason I had written to you, instead of speaking over the phone is that I want
you to give this matter some serious thought, just like I've had to. Whilst I don't expect you to come back, I do expect you to provide for this child what it needs. How far you take that is completely up to you and your
schedules. But, I expect you to live up to this as the responsibility it is. I promise to keep you updated on all the scans and if there are any problems.

Carol.

She sighed as she put her pencil down and reread the letter. It sounded clear, to the point. It didn't ramble. It didn't reveal any emotion. It told him exactly what she wanted and nothing more. No emotion. Nodding her head to herself in agreeance, she fed the paper into the fax machine and pressed 'go'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wanna push you around
Well, I will, well I will
I wanna push you down
Well, I will, well I will
I wanna take you for granted
I wanna take you for granted
Yeah, well I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hundreds of miles away, Doug Ross was laying back in bed, stretching out his aching limbs in the vain hope that he might be able to dislodge the pain and sleep peacefully for just one night. He had already taken a couple of painkillers, but as yet, there had been no relief.

His day had been hectic, rounding up forms and paperwork for his trip next week to Iowa to set up a pediatric ER in one of the principle hospitals. It was his biggest job to date, and he knew there was a lot of expectation riding on him. Nevertheless, he had managed to catch a break with his office clerk, Cindy Barber, as the day had ended.

Cindy was a skinny, mouse-haired woman in her early thirties who cultivated neuroses and spent her days waiting for disaster to strike her. Then again, no-one could blame her for being pessimistic. Her husband had left her after ten years of marriage to live in Hawaii with his nineteen year old private nurse, taking the car and all the money and leaving Cindy with two children under five. She had moved to live with her sister in New Orleans, but during six months in the city, had been mugged and assaulted twice. She had trailed around the country, spending brief periods in New York and Boston, before finally coming to rest in Portland, where she had found a stable job. Doug found her company friendly and a breath of fresh air in comparison to most of the people he had met in the hospital, and at the basketball club.

"Have you spoken to her yet?" Cindy had asked him that morning as they discussed the details of the trip over coffee. She had been pestering him for the past fortnight to ring the nameless woman in Chicago he
talked so much about, but he had deflected her probes each time she asked.

"No," Doug didn't even glance up from his paperwork. "I want her to be the one to contact me. She told me not to ring, so, for the first time since... I don't know, I'm gonna do exactly what she's told me." 

"Isn't that anticipating a bit too much?"

"Why would it be?" Doug paused, and looked up at Cindy. She was standing by the window, nursing her coffee cup and staring out over the cityscape.

"Because from what you've told me, she sounds like the secretive sort. You know, the kind who would say the exact opposite of what she meant just because it sounded good." Doug flinched, realizing the accuracy of her words. Carol was terribly independent, and when she felt she needed to be, terribly head-strong. What Cindy was telling him seemed very logical, but at the same time, he knew that if he disobeyed her one more time, that might very well be the final straw.

"I can't, Cindy," he sighed, with an air of despondency. "I don't want to know the truth. I don't want to listen to her tell me it's over. As long as I don't ring her, we're still together."

At that point, Cindy spun around on the heel of her black loafers and stalked over to his desk. "Doug," she said in a slow, irritated voice. "You disappoint me. I thought you had more guts than that."

"You did?"

"Yes, I thought you would have fought as hard as you could to save any part of your life that was good, and here you are, throwing happiness away like it's infected with some awful disease." 

Doug blinked at her tone. He had never heard Cindy raise her voice, not to her kids, to her boss, or to him. Never. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, because he realised he had nothing to say. She had an annoying habit of being right in every argument. She gave a flustered sigh at his lack of response, and then walked out of the office, shaking her head as she went. Doug had sat in silence for a few long minutes, but then decided that he would get up and go. It was past his leaving time anyway, and now he had angered his only true friend, there was little point in staying. Now, back in bed, trying to relax his mind, he thought of exactly what was stopping him from picking up the phone. It seemed ridiculous and cowardly, but at the same time, he knew that there was no other option. He would wait.

The following morning came much quicker than he wanted it to. He had dreamt of her again, in the early hours, after he had woken to get himself a drink of water. A dream of kissing her, of holding her body, and then, making love to her, sweet and tender as she told him he didn't have to worry anymore, that everything was going to change. The dream was so vivid, it felt as if it were actually happening. Her presence soothed his soul.
Everything would be so much better now she was here.

And then, he woke up. He rolled over onto a throbbing erection, and recoiled in pain, half because of the physical distress, and half because he had been shot from his dream. The memories of her face were fading in his mind whilst he was awake, but when he slept, they were rampant. He glanced at the alarm clock, and then sighed. He had not slept past six o'clock in months now, and this morning was no different. The clock read 5:52. He pushed his hand down his belly, and decided to get off as best he could, holding the image of the dream in his mind. He had anticipated that she would have called him after only a few weeks, and they would have done the job to each other over the phone. But, once he realised she wasn't going to call, he had taken to using the mental fantasies he had of her as a substitute. It never made him feel fulfilled, because she wasn't there afterward to cradle him, caress him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

Instead, he would open his eyes to find he was alone in painful, empty silence. With a cloud settling over him, Doug showered, dressed and headed into work, hoping that Cindy would be late so he didn't have to face her as he walked in. But, no, there she was, sitting at her desk in her little office, drinking coffee from a polystyrene cup and munching on an apple.

"Sorry," she said with her mouth half full as he walked in, unbuttoning his suit jacket now he was inside. "You weren't here, so I didn't get you one." She gestured to the cup on her desk. "Do you want one?"

"Yeah, that would he great," he replied tentatively, surprised that she seemed perfectly amicable towards him. He swung his jacket onto the coat stand and turned back. "Do you mind?"

"Nah," She stood up and made a quick twirl, showing off a new long gray cardigan. "Do you like?"

"Mmmm..." Doug approved, casting his eyes over her. Cindy was short, around five foot two, but she was slim and could easily carry off fashionable clothes. She had complimented the cardigan with beige slacks and a black polo neck.

"I got it in the sale. Only $80, which is pretty good cos it's proper lambswool... from New Zealand." She added with pride.

"Very nice." He pondered around her office for a moment, then added, "Anything for me?" Cindy was stepping over the rubbish bin, which she had filled yesterday with old papers and junkmail.

"Oh yeah," She turned and waved towards his own office. "There was a fax, from... Carol..." She paused and looked at his blankly surprised expression. "In Chicago..." Cindy added meaningfully. "I didn't read it. I left it on your desk."

"Thanks," Doug said absently, and then walked straight through to his office, his heart pounding.

He went to the desk and picked up the piece of paper. It was in her handwriting, neat, precise, ordered, and so tidy it made his own scrawl look positively childlike in comparison. Scanning it quickly, the content made him freeze. Oh God. Oh, God, he screamed wordlessly. He sat down heavily in his chair, his legs feeling weak. She was pregnant. She was having his baby. His mind went into overload and he began reading the letter again, this time in detail. The shock did not end there. Her tone made his hair hurt. She was cold, distressingly devoid of any emotion and sounding as if she wanted to place all the blame in his court.

He had no idea how long he sat there, staring at the piece of paper, but when Cindy walked into his office and found him a state of virtual catatonia, she tapped his shoulder, "Doug?"

He grunted. "Doug, what is it?" He did not answer. He could not answer. Cindy pulled up the other chair and sat down opposite him, reaching to take the letter from his grasp. "Can I read it?"

He nodded slowly, and she began reading. In the few minutes it took her to finish the letter, Doug did not move. "Oh, Doug... I, I don't know what to say..." she murmured quietly. "This isn't good is it?" With an almost startled gesture, he rose and went to the window.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" He groaned. "It's over. It's, it's..." With a deep breath he buried his face in his hands and sighed, trying to steady himself. "This isn't happening... this can't be happening..."

"Doug, you need to go home." Cindy said to him, concern in her voice. "You need to go pack, and get on a plane as quickly as you can."

He spun and stared at her. "Didn't you read it?" He asked sharply. "She doesn't want me to come."

"And what have I said about her before? Huh? That she's the kind who would say the exact opposite to what she wanted if she thought it sounded strong." Doug shook his head.

"No, not this time. This is the truth. She wouldn't ever say those things to me if she still loved me." Simply saying the words aloud was enough to make tears gather in his eyes. He had anticipated this moment for weeks now, but the reality was something he had not even considered. He couldn't ever remember feeling so hurt. He had thought he had known her, known her better than anyone else, but yet, this letter had not been written by the Carol he had known so well and loved so consummately. It was written by someone he had never met before. Someone who did not love him. Without even thinking, he grabbed his coat and walked out of the door, taking the letter with him. He did not know where he was going, but then, it did not matter. Nothing mattered anyone. He was numb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This ain't over, no not here
Not while I still need you around
You don't owe me, we might change it
Yeah, we just might feel good
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This couldn't be the end, he thought to himself as he strode out of the hospital. He headed for the river, so he could walk along and hopefully gain some perspective. Why would she do this to him? What had changed her into this? 

He started to wonder if he had been right not to call her. Perhaps he had, once again, misinterpreted her, not reading her words as she had really wanted him to, and then failing to live up to her expectations. Carol had always been a conundrum for him, but he had felt that in the past few months, he had finally worked her out. And now this. He couldn't deal with this. he was miserable without her. it had taken them so many years, and had taken so many risks on his behalf, he couldn't imagine that she would take herself away from him again. Not after all they'd been through together.

In the weeks during the Ricky Abbott case, she had been his rock, supporting him without question. The night she had told him she wouldn't come with him to Portland, he had gone to sleep in the spare room, not wanting to be near her whilst she was so raw, knowing he would unravel if he saw her cry again. But, as the clock struck midnight, she had crept up the stairs and slipped into bed beside him, cuddling up against his back, her hand tickling circles on his chest. 

"Carol, I can't do this right now..." He had murmured, feeling his body strain, feeling the tears burning like fire behind his eyes.

"Doug," she had said simply, her voice half pleading.

"No, no..." He swung out of bed and took a few paces towards the door. "I can't, you're pulling me apart." She stared up at him. A long, uneasy silence passed between them, their eyes simply focused on one another, neither daring to make the first move.

"Then just come to bed with me." She said slowly, standing up.

"Please."

He gave no reply, but found himself following her. She went downstairs and got into the double bed. He went to the bathroom, and then did the same. They laid with their backs to each other and Carol stared at the sharp quadrant of yellow light that jutted in from the hall onto the bedroom floor. He had not turned off the lamp.

It wasn't anger that stopped her saying anything more to him, she simply had no idea what to say. How could she have said no? Here she was, lying next to the only man she had ever truly loved, and yet she could
not give herself up for him. 

She turned and slipped her arms guiltily around him, putting her body to his back. "I'm sorry," she murmured remorsefully and kissed the side of his neck.

For a moment, Doug did not move and she could sense his slow-burning pain. Then, almost cautiously, he rolled onto his back and put an arm around her and she nestled in with her head on his chest. She felt him give a deep sigh that measured his distress, and for a long time, they laid still, not wanting to look at each other. Then she slid her hand slowly down his stomach and gently took hold of him. He stirred, giving a quiet moan, but let
her continue. 

After a few minutes, she rose up and knelt above him, pulling her T-shirt over her head and letting it fall to the floor. And he reached up, as he always did, and nursed around her breasts as she worked herself on him. 

He was hard now, and she guided him into her and felt him shudder. Neither of them uttered a sound. And she looked down through the darkness at this good man who had known her for so long, and saw in his eyes, unobscured by desire, an awful, irretrievable sadness.

Afterwards, they had held each other for what had seemed like an eternity, neither wanting to be the first to let go, somehow thinking that such a gesture would be symbolic of their relationship in the coming months.

She had fallen asleep first, her breathing humming slow and soft in the crook of his elbow. He had stayed awake, wanting to treasure their last moments together. And, as she twisted in her sleep, rolling onto her other
side, her hand slipped from his grasp and settled close to her heart.

He realised now, with a sharp pang, that the signs had been there for a long time. The way she had wanted to keep the relationship secret. Her unwillingness to get married. The way she would hide her affection at work. And then, her refusal to come with him to Portland. It had all been falling apart before his eyes, and he had just been too blind in love to recognize it.

But perhaps, if he rang her now, she might with him, and he might be able to understand what had changed. He had told her once that he would do anything for her, and now he was willing to do anything to salvage something from this mess. Falling out of love with her simply wasn't an option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She said I don't know why you ever would lie to me
Like I'm a little untrusting when I think that the truth is gonna hurt you
And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me
You couldn't stand to be near me
When my face don't seem to wanna shine
Cos it's a little bit dirty.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in Chicago, Carol was pacing her lounge. Half of her was anticipating he would call straight away, and the other half was hoping to God he wouldn't. What would she say? What could she say? He had taken so much from her that last night, so much guilt, so much pain, and his soft, whispered words as she had drifted to sleep had eased her mind. What had been left behind she could barely fathom. 

Mark had told her the other morning that he thought she had changed, and she had responded that she had needed to.

That was the truth. Over the last summer, following the Josh McNeal incident, they had grown closer with every day. She had felt her reservations about him slowly vanishing, and had found herself really, genuinely falling head over heels in love with him.  He had reciprocated her new found love for him readily, and the bond has been forged, she had thought, for life.

Now, with him gone, that bond had to be severed if she intended to live something approaching a normal life. If he called right now, she would tell him exactly what she should tell him. She would tell him that she was strong enough to do this on her own. No matter how much of a lie it was.

And she knew that he would lie too, because they had always been good at concealing their emotions. Over the years, they'd had to. Doug, because he feared what Tag or Shep would have done to him if he had confessed himself to her, and Carol, because she feared being rejected or used all over again.

But, when she thought hard about the situation, Carol knew that she was crying out for him to come back. She had reasoned that if they didn't call one another, she would have time to figure out exactly why he had left, and why he couldn't stay with her. But the understanding had not materialized. All she could see was that there must have been some underlying crack in their relationship, some problem that had been there seven years ago, and had not budged, but had simply been lying dormant.

She remembered one conversation they'd had shortly after the fiasco of the wedding. Lying awake on a particularly muggy evening, he had asked her if she trusted him, wondering if that had been what stopped her marrying him. She had taken several long minutes to answer him, but had finally admitted that she still looked for him to glance towards another woman, to loose

interest and move away like he had done in the past. It had happened last time when she had fallen in love with him, and she feared that if she allowed herself to fall this time, it would happen again, and she couldn't stand to go through that again. He had told her that he understood her anxiety, but that there was no reason to hesitate, because he was so in love with her he could not ever imagine leaving her.

Hmm, what truth was that, Carol thought angrily. Suddenly, the telephone rang, jolting her from her thoughts. With a frustrated sigh, she picked it up and snapped into the receiver, "Hello, who is this and why are you calling me?"

She heard a slightly strangled sound from the other end of the phone and a wary voice came down the line, "Hey, Carol... it's me..." Oh God, oh, God, her mind screamed.

"Hey, Doug..."

There was a silence, uncomfortable and stilted with her heart running riot in her chest. "How are you?"

"I'm doing okay," He paused and added wordlessly, doing about as well as I'll ever be without you. "I got your letter." He said instead, his voice grating against her. he sounded angry, she thought. She could sense his anger and disappointment and pain in the knifing preciseness of his voice. He was mad. Nevertheless, she forced herself to reply, in as calm a voice as she could muster.

"That's good. Have you thought about it?"

"Mm-hm," He paused again. He wanted to show her how hurt he was, and he could do that in only one way, by measuring his words. Just like he'd done that night she came home from being with Greg Powell.

"And, what are gonna do?"

There was another silence. She could hear him shifting positions on the other end. "I'm gonna do exactly what you've told me." Cold silence.

Again. Then he spoke, "Carol, that was a pretty low thing to do, you know..." She said nothing, surprised that he would vocalize what she already knew. "I thought that even after what I did, I at least deserved the decency of a phone call."

"I'm sorry, Doug," she whispered, so quietly he could barely hear her. "I couldn't do that." As always, Doug thought as he listened to her, what she did say was very little, and unmeaning, but what she wasn't saying amounted to volumes. His anger and pain were boiling over by now, and he replied sharply,

"Why? What would I have done? Carol, I know you think that I can, but I can't just switch off how I feel about you. I wanted us to have a baby together. I wanted to be a father, not just sit on the sidelines being the daddy in the photograph. I want to come and see you."

There, he'd said it. Carol balked. "No. No, I don't want you to do that, Doug." She shook her head and gestured madly. "I don't want you to come back and remind me of how beautiful it could be, and then go away again. I don't want to have to deal with what I'm still dealing with all over again. I want to move on."

Doug took in a fearful breath. "So, you're saying it's over...?" He sighed slowly, feeling his heart beginning to tear in his chest.

"I don't know... I just... I need some time, Doug. I need to get this straight in my head before I let you come back. She heard him sigh again, this time a stuttered sigh, punctuated with an uncharacteristic racking sob.

"Carol, don't do this to me..." He breathed, his voice faltering. "I love you. I can't live without you." She swallowed hard and braced herself.

"Yeah, but you can't live with me either." And with that final stab, she hung up, leaving him dying in a pool of his own remorse.

*NB - note spontaneous 'With Or Without You' reference. Sorry, had to get it in somewhere. That was a killer trailer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh well, don't just stand there
Say nice things to me
Cos I've been cheated, I've been wronged
You, you don't know me, yeah well, I can't change
I won't do anything at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carol stared at the phone for a few minutes afterward, feeling like a bitch. She couldn't believe she'd just said those words to him. She had never thought she was capable of such heartlessness as she had just shown.

She turned away from the phone and went to the bedroom, feeling heavy and so guilty she wanted to hide her face from the world. Sinking into the duvet, she started to cry silent tears of agony that left her drained and fading into sleep.

She dreamed of him. For some reason, she was standing on the porch, clothed in only a summer denim dress, the hot rays of a midday sun burning on her pale sun. She looked up and there he was, standing in front of the Jeep. It's door hung open and the engine was crackling, as if he had drive a torturous distance in the unrelenting heat. She stood still. He smiled at her, his face grave despite it. They stood unmoving, perhaps five yards apart, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"I thought..." He swallowed. "I just thought I'd... come back."

Carol nodded. "Yes," Her voice was fainter than she had ever heard it before, and sounded a million miles away from her body. 

He began climbing the stairs, his head down, in the same nervous manner he had done that one night after he date with Toby. Watching him draw nearer, she feared that all that was welling within her would engulf her and sweep her away before he got to her, and so she reached out to him like a drowning soul and pulled him into her arms, breathing easy now he was here.

The wave of surprise, desire and sheer thankfulness broke over her and she sobbed wildly into his chest. He felt her quake and held her even tighter, kissing the top of her head like he would always do when words eluded him and his emotions threatened to get the better of him. Her tears streamed like rivers of fire down her cheeks and buried themselves in his shirt, in his fingers and thumb as he smoothed and soothed them. His lips traced her cheek like two skipping feathers, and then slid down her face through the wetness and found her mouth.

He kissed her like he'd kissed her that first night on the porch, urgent and pleading, yet at the same time, so infused with passion it almost bowled her over. He held her face in his cradling hands so that he might kiss her more deeply. She moved her hands down his back and took hold of him below his arms, feeling how hard his body was and how she could lay her fingers into the grooves of his ribcage. Then, as if reading her thoughts, he held in the same way and she quivered.

They leaned apart to catch their breath and to stare, wide-eyed and grateful, at one another. "I can't believe you're here," she murmured.

"I can't believe I ever left." He took her by the hand, and led her inside, shutting the porch door.

Immediately, the room took on a rosy sundown glow, despite it having just been the height of day outside. He didn't say a word, but simply led her through the lounge, and the kitchen, and past the desk still cluttered with his papers. She longed for him so badly, it felt like sickness in her stomach, like an ever-tightening hand grasping on her heart.

Once in the bedroom, she reached out and pulled him to her to kiss him again. Without a word, he slowly slipped his hands to the front of her dress and started unbuttoning it. She watched him work, seeing the little frown of concentration appearing on his forehead, and hearing his breaths like those of a man who had just run a mile. With a small sigh, he eased the last one open and then pushed the thin material off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and slipping his hands around her naked waist. His fingers skirted up to her breasts and he bent his head to press soft, gentle kisses into the skin above her bra.

For a brief moment, the dream took on a sour taste of reality, and the sense that this was too good to be true permeated through the muzzy haze. Pushing the thought away, Carol relaxed into the fantasy. There is nothing but this, she told her half conscious mind. No other time, or place or being than here and now and him and us. Nothing big enough to get in the way of this love. This love that would be consummated tonight in this dream.

Doug led her to the bed and they stood beside it whilst he stepped from his shows and she started to unpick the buttons of his shirt. now it was his turn to watch, and he did so from a calm crest of amazement. He looked up at her, and saw her china-pale skin bathed by the halo of yellow and gold sunlight she stood in, giving the arch of each curve a luminescent sparkle like pearl under water.

She pulled his T-shirt over his head, settling her hands on his chest as she threw it to the floor. He dipped his head and kissed the rise of her chest, just above her breasts, breathing in her scent like an opiate.

"Oh, Carol," She parted her lips, but gave no reply. None was needed, except for her to hold his gaze and reached behind her to undo her bra. He stared, transfixed by the beauty of this fallen angel standing before him. She took his fingers and pushed them under the straps, and then gently moved his hands down, letting him take the bra with them. In his absence, he had forgotten how exquisite she was, how her skin glowed, and how her full, firm breasts framed her perfect, hard, rose-tinted nipples. Her hands were at the zipper of his jeans.

"Please," she breathed.

He pulled the duvet from the bed and she laid herself down and watched him take off his socks, and jeans, and then his shorts. There was no shame.

He knelt on the bed beside her and she reached out and took his erection in her hands. Bending her head, she brushed against the moist tip so masterfully it caused him to shudder and close his eyes in order to find some lower, more endurable level.

Her eyes, when he dared to look at them again, were dark like mahogany, and glazed with a tempestuous, unbridled desire he knew could be seen in his own. She let go of him and lay back, watching him through veiled lashes. With a slow, controlled movement, he lowered his head and traced his lips down her stomach, to the curling ebony triangle of hair between her legs. The brush of it against his chin released a warm, musky-sweet smell of arousal that tingled through his nose. he sat back on his knees and simply gazed at her, too overcome to make a sound.

As the light caressed their skin, each surveyed the other's naked body, letting their eyes roam and hungrily take in every curve, angle and hue. The sounds of their urgent, eager breathing filled the room, and then she spoke, "I want you inside me."

"You need to get your diaphragm in, Carol..." he murmured.

She brushed him off, "I doesn't matter. I don't want it. Just come inside me." 

With a little frown of need, she reached for him and he came forward on his knees, letting her pull him into her. At the soft contact of flesh, Doug released a contented groan and saw a whole world of pleasure and satisfaction and wonder open before him, and he sank deep inside of her, marveling at her sweet, yielding body.

It seemed to Carol, when he entered her, that he sent some almighty swell, bubbling with heat and sensation, fizzing along her spine to lap at the base of her brain like waves on a burning beach. He was moving now, gentle and tender as always, his gliding body creating the sweetest kind of friction against her dampened skin and she felt his hands on her breasts, hard and pressing, and then his tongue travel along to take her nipple between his teeth.

His skin was brown, and the thin, sparse hair of his chest was purest black, not speckled with gray on his head. His supple musculature enveloped her and cradled her like a child, his confidence now centred entirely on her and this moment, concentrated to a zenith of desire. His mouth delved hungrily into her neck, nipping at the flesh. She turned her head and saw the framed photographs on the bedside table, and, for a fleeting moment, the sight of them threatened to once again drag her from out of this reverie. Not now, her brain told her, not yet, and she lifted his head between her hands and searched blindly for his mouth.

When the kiss parted, he leaned slightly away and looked down at her, smiling. "Carol, remember that night we made the video?"

"Every moment," she whispered back.

"Well, I told you then that I'd do anything for you. I just want you to know that nothing has changed that."

She sighed in ecstatic delight and pushed herself harder onto him, wanting to give him this pleasure. Their eyes locked together and in a growing, preoccupied urgency, they moved on each other until she saw the flicker in his face and felt him quiver, and the rush and heat on him within her. And she arched herself into him, and felt, at the same instant, an explosion of bubbling sensation in her groin, hot and wild, that coursed through her being and left her watching her own body as if she were somewhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wanna push you around,
Well, I will, well I will
I wanner push you down
Well, I will, well I will
I wanner take you for granted
Yeah, I wanna take you for granted
Hey, hey, well I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke with the dawn, to the chattering of the birds and the sound of cars swooping past outside. It took her only a brief moment to remember she was alone. She turned over, feeling a weight descent on her. She had slept later, and with a moan, climbed out of bed, feeling moist from the imprint of the dream. She showered, washing her clammy skin, trying desperately to wash him from her body, and then dressed regretfully, feeling guilty for having done it.

As she made herself a banana sandwich for breakfast, that guilt did not disappear, it grew. How could she have spoken to him like that? She could only imagine how hurt he would have been. 

There came a knock at the door and then, Mark walked in. "Hi, I thought I'd drop round and see how you were doing. Is that okay?"

She nodded, feeling tears swell behind her eyelids. "You spoke to him, didn't you?" Mark asked, sensing her distress. She nodded again, wanting words to come, but knowing that if she opened her mouth, the tears would spill over. "Oh, Carol..." He came to her and turned her around, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Tell me."

Carol made no move, and then, the grief bubbled over, but no sounds came with it. Mark pulled her into his chest and simply held her, rocking with her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly he thought she might break his ribs, and yet, all the while, she remained in eerie silence.

Finally, she moved away, wiping the tears with an embarrassed fist. "I, I... Oh God..." She paused, and drew in a stuttering breath, trying to steady herself. "I tried to be strong, I, I tried to tell him I didn't want him to come back, but I could tell... I could tell he was mad. I ended up shouting at him, Mark. I don't even know why. I think I've done it." She started to cry again. "I think I've thrown it all away. He'll hate me after what I said."

"Hey, hey, Doug will never ever hate you, Carol." Mark soothed honestly.

She began pacing around the lounge like a caged cat, "This is different, Mark. I've really hurt him. I could hear him crying. I've never ever known Doug cry..." she choked.

Mark was silently stunned. She must have said something terrible, else Doug felt for her much stronger than he had let on. "It was probably heat of the moment," he suggested. "He'll forget about it in a little white. Just give him some time."

"No, no," she breathed, shaking her head. "Not this."

There was a silence as she flung herself down in an armchair and covered her face. "So you want me to speak to him?" Carol looked up.

"What?"

"Do you want me to ring him? Talk it over with him? Then I can tell you what to do if you want to save this." 

She paused, and stared at the carpet. "Oh, Mark, I don't know what to do. I don't know whether it would make any difference..."

"Well, there's only one way to know, isn't there?"

Doug dropped the receiver, and crumpled to the floor in agony. Her words had hit him like a knife to the heart, and he realised, with another twist of pain, that he had been the one that had wielded the knife. He had thought she had understood his reasons for leaving, believed that she would deal with the problem in a matter of weeks and then, they would skip back into the routine of being lovers, admittedly separated, but never more than a phonecall or a thought away.

How wrong could he have been. She still blamed him for everything that had happened. She hadn't understood, not even slightly. And, as he looked back, staring at two years of cold single-mindedness, he realised that he had only been avoiding the inevitable. No matter how many times he had asked her, and how many times she had assured that she had, she had not moved on. Subconsciously, she was waiting for the day when he would slip up and fall, bringing her down with him. Just like he'd done before.

Sinking forwards, he brought his hands up to his face and was surprised to find that it was wet. Reaching behind him, he pulled the sheet from the bed to wipe away the tears, but, on feeling the softness of it against his face, started to cry harder. He thought he had finished with the grief, and that all that was left was simply guilt and remorse. He had thought he'd moved on, thought he had changed. But, sitting on the floor of a strange and lonely room to which he felt no attachment to, he realised that, just like Carol, he had never moved on. Never put the selfishness and reckless behaviour behind him. His entire life reeked of incomprehensible blunder. Mistakes that were now past, and of which he could do nothing about, because time had outsped him before he had even grasped the notion that he was in a race.

It would never get better. Despite all that he was, and all that he thought he had become, his one great failure, a failure to her, would always be with him. Always.

It was dawn when Doug finally awoke from the deep and dreamless unconsciousness he had fallen into. At first he thought that all he could remember had been a dream, a horrible, hideous nightmare, but then, it all came rushing back to him with an excruciating jolt. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and focused on the pale shapeless shadows cast by the early morning light. the window had been left open, and a cold breeze blew in through the slats and washed over him.

Standing up and straightening out his clothes, Doug went to the window to close it, and stared out over the city. The clock on the nearby Town Hall read 5:15, and the morning had clearly dawned slowly. There was no dawn really, just a gradual shift from dark to shades of gray, a hazy mist hanging over the buildings like a shroud. It was raining outside, cold sheets of drizzle pattering against the glass like a thousand tiny fingers, and yet hard enough to wash some of the slime out of the gutters. A group of half-starved crows scrabbled in a drain over some sodden morsel, and a solitary human, dressed all in black, weaved across the street in a daze. 

Pulling the handle that closed the window slats, he turned back to his apartment and sighed. What was he going to do now? Was the relationship over? She had given him no real conclusion to the discussion, merely asked for him to give her some time. It was something he'd been giving her for the past year, but he had done so willingly, purely because he couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

They had become so close over the past months, and Doug had felt her letting down her guards, relaxing into the relationship, slowly believing that he wasn't about to walk out of the door and leave her. He'd had so many hopes and dreams for the relationship. 

Shortly after the issue of children had arisen, they had talked again about getting married. She had been doubtful at first, wondering if it was still too soon, but had eventually let him buy her a ring. Not two days later, she arrived home from the grocery store with a bridal magazine. They had curled up on the sofa, in front of the fire one night and she had told him about the fairytale wedding she had imagined as a child. She had picked him out a top hat and tails suit from the magazine, complete with spotted red cravat, then they had planned the honeymoon. Hawaii, they had settled on, after a little wrangling. She had fancied Europe. Paris, London and Rome; the cities of love, she had told him with happy exaggerations. He wanted Australia, so they settled on somewhere half way between both. 

Casting his memory back, the warmth that had generated between the two of them had seemed to be the etchings of a future together. How wrong was that. He had shattered all their fantasies with one careless action, and now, here they were, a thousand miles apart and not speaking.

He dressed lazily, in sweat bottoms and a T-shirt and, knowing he no work that day, headed off down to the river to shoot some hoops as the rain slowed.

It was nearly eight o'clock when he returned, having challenged an early morning player to a one on one and won. He showered, and then made himself some breakfast, standing in the kitchen spreading a chunk of butter he knew would be no good for him onto a bagel. It was something she had always chided him about, reminding him about cholesterol and getting a belly, but now, doing it seemed even more a rebellion than it had done in the past. 

He sat down and flicked through the cable channels, finally choosing CNN to numb his brain. He watched the majority of the breakfast show, then dressed for the day in jeans and a polo-neck. He was just brushing his teeth when he heard the phone ring, and spat out the remaining paste, running to pick it up before whomever it was rang off. "Hello, this is Doug Ross," he said, his voice heavy.

"Hi, Doug," It was Mark. He paused a moment, and the spoke,

"Oh, hi," He had no idea what to say. There was not a shadow of a doubt that Carol would have shared pretty much everything with him, and that the reason behind this phone call was probably something to do with last night's tussle.

"Doug," Mark began, and then cleared his throat uneasily. "I've just been with Carol, and she's about ready to go crazy."

"Oh."

"She doesn't understand, Doug, she thinks that you left because you didn't love her enough." Mark waited for his explosive reaction, but there was none, only silence. "Doug?" he prompted.

"Mark, you know I didn't leave because of that. I left for the same reasons she stayed. I love my job. I lost that in Chicago, and I had to leave if I wanted to go on treating kids." He cleared his throat. "That does not mean that I don't love her, I just had to make a choice... and I seriously believed that she would come with me." He took in a deep breath. "But, she didn't... and now I feel like I've made the biggest mistake of my life." 

"I know," Mark whispered. He paused. "She wants me to tell you that she didn't mean what she said over the phone, that it was just heat of the moment."

"Oh well, that's the way is it, isn't it? It's okay for her to regret something, and expect me to come back with open arms, but I can't do the same..." He could barely believe he had said those words, but they came with a bitter truth.

"Call her," Mark said. "I know that she needs to sort this out. At least find some kind of settlement. Don't leave it open ended like this."

"Yeah, that's okay for you to say, Mark, but I call her again, she'll only start yelling or crying, and I just won't know what to do. I don't even know what to say to her." He paused and took in a deep breath. "Do you know? Do you what she wants?"

Mark was silent for a minute, then added slowly, "She doesn't know what she wants. I think she's still screwed up about everything. Every time she tries to sort it out, she comes up against a brick wall. All I know is that she can't face losing you. "He stopped, and then said meaningfully,

"Doug, she is so in love with you that she feels like she's lost control. That's why she's doing all this. Pushing you around is her way of thinking she's getting control back again. The baby is the perfect excuse."

"Maybe..." Doug allowed, " But, she's gotta recognize that what she's doing is not making things better. She has to ring me." There was a small, uneasy silence, and then Doug added, "Look, Mark, I've really got to go now, I've got things I should be doing. I'll call you soon. Bye."

And he hung up. Without a second thought, Mark ripped the phone and answer machine from the socket, intending to plug it in at Carol's house and replay her the conversation.

"Mark, what are you doing back here?" Carol admonished, staring at the telephone he was holding under his arm. She had been drying her hair when the doorbell had rung, and charged downstairs thinking it might have been her mother.

"You need to listen to this..." he said, and pushed past her, searching for the phone socket. Finding it, he plugged it in, and then pressed the rewind button, then played his conversation with Doug back.

"Carol stood in the kitchen listening to the answermachine. The call finished, and Mark turned to her. "See, the ball is in your court now." 

She stared straight ahead, and then threw her head back and moaned at the ceiling.

"Why? Why is this happening? I've been through so much with him, why can't we just live like everyone else?"

"Cos you have to call him," Mark explained simply, and handed her the telephone receiver. "It isn't gonna mend itself, Carol. He's crying out for you to call him and sort this out, because he's not brave enough to do it himself."

She said nothing for a minute, sighing heavily, then gingerly took the phone. "Will you give us some time alone, then?"

"Sure, no problem. I'm gonna go sit outside on the porch, okay?" She nodded, and clenched her fists with a confidence she certainly did not feel.

The phone rang and rang for what seemed like an eternity, just the hollow dialing tone repeating back at her in spiteful indifference. She knew he was there, and she knew he was refusing to answer the phone because he knew it was her. "Oh, come on, Doug, pick up..." she moaned.

Suddenly, she heard his voice, "This is Doug Ross."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling weak and defeated. She could remember the last time she'd apologized to him, and he had responded by walking out of the house and driving away. She hoped he wasn't about to hang up on her. But, no, he murmured something under his breath, but she couldn't hear clearly. "I don't know what I'm doing," He was silent, and let her talk. "Mark says I'm being deliberately antagonistic." 

She heard him make an approving sound in his throat, and then add quietly, "There is that..." She smiled. He could always make light of a situation, it was what he did best.

"Help me, Doug," she prompted. He sighed.

"Carol, don't do this. Don't push me away like this." He said simply, then waited for her reply. He heard her take a deep breath.

"Okay... I, I just don't know what to do. I say I want time to figure it out, but I'm just stalling, I know it..." She sighed again. "Why, Doug?"

"Why did I go, is that what you're asking me?" He paused, and stood up, walking as far as he could with the flex. "I couldn't stay. I need to work, because I love my job... I couldn't do that in Chicago anymore. I guess, I guess I kind of assumed you'd come with me... I fell on my sword without thinking fully about the consequences. I thought you loved me enough to come with me... but I guess I was wrong."

"And I thought you loved me enough to stay..."

Doug chuckled wryly. "Seems like we just had our wires crossed."

"Yeah," She smiled into the phone. "Cos I thought you weren't serious. I thought you were clutching... I thought you'd know that I wouldn't want to go to Portland with you, and that you'd stay with me because you loved me."

"Carol, I still love you." He replied, his voice low and serious. "I fell in love with you years ago, and thought everything, that hasn't changed."

She swallowed, "I know, I know... I just didn't expect this to happen. I wasn't prepared."

"Neither of us were, Hell, I certainly wasn't. I've been miserable up here on my own, and if I could turn back the clock and do things differently, I would. But, I can't. I've got to make the most of what I've got left..." He paused, and sighed regretfully. "I've lost a lot in the past three months, don't make me lose you."

Carol scrunched her face up. "Then don't expect me to think that nothing happened. I know we can't change things, but you can't just tell me to pick up the pieces and carry on regardless. You hurt me, Doug... probably more than you did before, because this time, I'm crazy in love. You showed me what life could have been like, and then, ripped it all away." 

Doug nodded, but then, realizing she couldn't see him, whispered, "I know, and I'm sorry..." He sounded genuine.

"I don't want to fight anymore... I'm done with that. All I'm asking is that we take this slowly."

"That's fair," he murmured.

They exchanged a few more words, but silence was invading the conversation, and so Doug decided to end it. "Okay, Carol, I'm not gonna ring again for a little while, so you can settle this in your head. You know my number if you need to talk again... I spend most nights here, so I doubt you'll get the answer machine. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Take care... of both of you," he murmured, and she could tell he was smiling. "Wait a minute, Carol..." He said, quickly.

"What?"

"Just put the phone to your stomach for me. Please?" He asked.

"What for?"

"I want to say something to the baby..." Carol smiled. This was why she loved this man. She did as he asked, but no matter how hard she strained, she could not hear what he said. 

He said, "You are me, baby... look after your Mom while I'm not there and don't ever forget, I love you both."

Carol put the receiver back on the hook and sighed, but this time, with a warm fuzz of happiness swimming around her head. Resolution had been given. 

She stepped out to find Mark, and, on seeing him sitting on the swing seat, she walked towards him with a wide grin, and hugged him. "Thank you so much, Mark. I will do whatever you say from now on."

"Whatever I say?" Mark teased, accepting her hug and grinning back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh but don't bowl me over
Just wait a minute, well, it kinda fell apart
Things got so crazy, crazy
Don't rush this baby,
Don't rush this baby, baby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The End.