The Still Point

The show ER and all characters and situations borrowed from it are property of Constant-C, NBC, Warner Bros., etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and no profit is derived from it. It contains language and sexual references that may be offensive to some.

Note: Lyrics quoted in the text are from "Kiss Me," words and music by Matt Slocum, Sixpence None The Richer.

My stories are archived at the ERnFanfic Web site:
http://www.oocities.org/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/elizabeth.htm

Thanks to Jordan and Claire for editing, encouragement and great suggestions.  Thanks also go to Sunita Dass, who shared her insights into these characters with me and helped illuminate this story.


The Still Point
by Elizabeth
Eliz1296@aol.com


*This story takes place immediately after "Carter's Choice"*
________________________________________________

Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

--T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"
________________________________________________
Going Home


Carol finished up her paperwork and filed the chart into the slot atop the admit desk, making sure that appropriate copies were marked for distribution to maternity and the nursery.

She glanced down the counter at the large, impatient woman explaining  something for the fourth time to a distraught grandmother, and decided to interrupt.

"Haleh? I'm heading out. Everything okay here?"

"Uh-huh. We've got it covered, Carol."

Conni walked past: "Go ahead, girl! You're way late. Your man's probably home waiting for you."

Carol smiled. Her man waiting at home. Maybe.

"Okay. See ya later."

She went into the lounge, stopping by her locker and preparing herself for the cold. But when she walked out to the ambulance bay, she hardly felt it.

The El was crowded. But for once Carol did not mind the crush or the pushing or the scramble for a seat. She stood in a corner near the doors, hanging onto an overhead strap, lost in thought.

Despite the din of the tracks and the talking all around her, she could hear his quiet voice as though Doug were standing right beside her:

*I'm sorry I pushed. Take all the time you need. I'll wait.*

Carol smiled dreamily to herself, prompting a man three rows back to do a double-take as his eyes swept idly over the crowd near the door. The expression on the dark-haired woman's face was so beautiful he nearly wound up missing his stop for staring at her.

By the time the train pulled up to Carol's station and she started to walk the short block home, she half-expected to find Doug there waiting, like Conni had predicted. But when she caught sight of the dark windows and deserted look of the place, she could tell from the street that he wasn't there.

Carol went inside, pulling her coat and scarf off and hanging them up in the hall, then walked directly to the bedroom and dialed his number.

He picked up the line after the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Carol heard the low hum of approval in his throat as he recognized her voice. When he responded she could tell he was smiling.

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm good, thanks. You must've wrapped up late, huh?"

"Yeah, I just got home," Carol said, settling down, cross-legged, on the mattress. "I wanted to stay until we got a bed for Mary up in maternity. I signed her up for some classes tomorrow - you know, breastfeeding, infant bathing, that kind of thing."

"Umm-hmmm, good. Any kind of teaching she can get is bound to help," Doug said. "You might want to arrange a post-natal home visit, too, get somebody out there to weigh the baby, check up on the breast-feeding, answer questions. Give it about two weeks. You can do that through the clinic, right?"

"Yeah, I can. That's a great idea. I'll do it." Carol paused a moment, feeling awkward. She knew what she wanted to say, but she was not quite sure how to start.

"So, slow day for you?" she asked finally.

"Yeah. I was up in pedes and in the NICU most of the day, when I wasn't hiding out in sutures or the lounge, getting caught up on dictations."

"How was pedes?"

"Fine. Slow, though. Makes me remember why I went into emergent care, whenever I help out up there."

"Yeah, I know. The other floors are such a grind for nurses. Handing out meds, charting, answering the call button a million times. Really dull."

"Yeah, well, I think it's worse for us in general, Carol. We're all adrenaline junkies in the ER."

She laughed, feeling better now that they were talking comfortably again. Old friends, just like always.

Carol took a deep breath and made herself say the words.

"I ... I wanted to thank you, for ... for what you said today, Doug. Before you left."

Doug felt his heart surge and he closed his eyes, pausing a moment before he responded. "You're welcome. It's .... we're gonna be okay, Carol."

"I know."

Carol felt awkward again. She wanted, more than anything, for things to be okay between them, to go back to how they were before all this talk of marriage got in the way. Most of all, she wanted Doug to be with her tonight.

"So, did you have dinner?" she asked, hoping he would say no. "I mean ... get take-out or something?"

"Yeah, Chinese. Picked it up on the way home."

Her heart sank. "Oh, okay. Because I was thinking ... I mean, I wondered if you wanted to come over tonight, y'know. I'd .... I'd like to see you, later or something ... ?"

Doug didn't say anything for a moment. "I'd like to see you." In their own peculiar shorthand, that phrase had taken on greater significance. This was not going to be easy. But he thought about what Carol had said that morning, about how she needed time.

And he thought that maybe he needed time, too. He loved her and he wanted her, but ... Doug's heart had been bruised. He didn't think he could pretend, so soon, that nothing had happened. He didn't think they could make love tonight, as if that kiss had never happened.

Carol held her breath, her heart thudding. She needed him to hold her tonight. It seemed like forever since she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

"I dunno, Carol. I ... I'm pretty tired. I didn't sleep much last night."

Oh god. Carol's heart sank. She couldn't remember him turning down such an obvious invitation. Maybe not ever. No, not since ... not since the night she'd lost Tatiana.

Carol took a short breath and answered him quickly, striving hard to sound casual. "Oh ... okay. Y'know, I didn't realize how late it was. I'm pretty tired too. I guess it's probably better."

"Yeah. We'll see each other soon, okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure .... um, good night."

"Yeah. Get some sleep, Carol."

"You too."

"Bye."

"Goodbye, Doug."
_____________________________________________
PhoneTag


But Carol did not get as much sleep as she hoped that night, and neither did Doug. In fact, neither of them slept well for the next few nights.

Doug rattled around his empty apartment, notifying the landlord that he wouldn't be moving out after all and restocking his 'fridge with food and beer. He watched television into the early-morning hours and went out to eat by himself. Damn, bachelor life was lonely once you got out of the habit.

Carol worked long shifts and came home to huddle on her side of the bed, turning her back on the wide expanse of uncreased pillow where his head should be resting. Damn, that bed had never seemed so big before she got used to sharing it.

One day went by, then another and another. Things weren't going to get better unless they talked, Doug knew. Should he go over there after work? Ask her to come to his place?

He recalled Cynthia Hooper's comment: How every time she and Mark tried to talk about their relationship, they usually wound up having sex instead. Doug knew that game well. He and Carol had done the same thing many times, opting for physical intimacy over a difficult conversation.

Taking her out to a restaurant might be best, Doug decided. Carol had said that she and the paramedic had talked over coffee and she "started telling him things." Sometimes it was easier to do that in public, face-to-face, in a quiet place.

That afternoon, he waited until it was slow and Carol was leaning back in a chair in the admit area, her feet propped up on the desk, flipping through a magazine. When the phone rang, she picked it up absentmindedly.

"ER..."

"Your ass looks so sexy when you sit like that...."

Carol laughed out loud and sat up abruptly, looking around. This was a favorite game.

Doug had started it, years earlier, as a way to tease her. He would wait until she was with a patient, then position himself so he could see her answer the phone. As soon as she picked up the line, he would whisper an explicit suggestion about what they could be doing, *at that very moment*, down in the basement.

Carol would stammer and blush, trying hard to stay professional, and look around quickly so she could glare at him. Last year, after they got back together, he'd picked up the old game from time to time.

"Where are you?" she demanded.

Doug chuckled: "In the lounge."

"What? You can't even see my--" Carol stopped and lowered her voice, teasingly: "You can't even see me. Have you been spying on me?"

"Naw, just thinkin' about you lately."

"Yeah?"

"Um-hmm. So ... when can you meet me downstairs?" he growled suggestively.

"Oh, god!" she laughed again. "Get real, Doug."

"Well, if you won't agree to let me have my way with you down in the  basement, at least you have to let me take you out to dinner tonight."

"Oh, I have to, huh? I don't get a choice?"

"No, you don't. Should I pick you up, or do you want to meet me at Vittorio's after your shift?"

"Vittorio's? The new place I read about in the newspaper? I'm impressed. Ummm, how about I meet you at 6:30? That'll give me time to go home and change."

"Sounds good. Damn it, I'm gettin' paged. You know where it is, right? I'll see you there."

"Okay," Carol said, replacing the receiver with a wide grin on her face.

"Hot date?" Lydia was standing over her shoulder.

"Oh man, is there no privacy around here, ever?" Carol complained, grinning in exasperation as she opened her magazine up again.

Randi breezed past: "Not if we can help it, honey."

________________________________________________
Dinner--Take #1


Doug pulled his Jeep into the parking garage behind the classy, new Italian restaurant.

He was looking forward to seeing Carol, but he was nervous, too. He'd come a long way over the past couple years, but he didn't think he'd ever be completely comfortable when confronted with women's emotions.

Besides, Carol's angry words about his infidelities had been ringing in his ears for days. He detested the idea that his stupid mistakes had been bottled up inside Carol, eating away at her, all these years.

Doug got out of his car and locked it, activating the alarm.

*The surgical tech in the on-call room.*

He hadn't thought about that in ages, but he could have sworn Carol was out sick that night. He didn't even realize she'd found out about it. She'd never mentioned it.

He pocketed his keys and started toward the exit.

*The pedes nurse in the parking lot.*

Cindy, was it? Or Cheryl? To tell the truth, he couldn't even remember getting lucky in that nurse's car. All he could recall was trying unsuccessfully to avoid an awkward meeting with her in the hospital afterwards. What a complete ass he'd been.

And Doug remembered, too, the disbelief and hurt in Carol's eyes when she'd questioned him about it a few days later. He'd denied it, of course, but still she'd shunned him for weeks.

He opened the back door of the restaurant and walked up to the coat check desk, shucking his overcoat and scarf as he went, remembering the day he and Carol had finally reconciled, if only briefly. The frantic, passionate sex in the basement, his visit to her tiny apartment that night, the way she'd taken him to bed and made love to him, the tender, sweet way she had told him that she loved him.

Doug sighed, handing his garments over and confirming his reservation.

The maitre'd consulted a list. "Your table is ready, sir."

"Thanks. I'm - ah, waitin' for my date. She'll be here any minute," Doug said, and he headed into the bar.

He settled on a stool and ordered a vodka tonic. Something to help calm his nerves. A few years ago, he would have done anything to avoid an evening like this. Now, he would probably do anything that gave him a hope of being with Carol forever.

Doug took his drink and walked over to a spot where he could see the front door. By the time it opened and Carol walked in from the street, he'd nearly finished one vodka and was contemplating ordering another.

Carol looked around the crowded lobby for a moment before she spotted Doug leaning in the doorway to the bar. He stood in a familiar pose: freshly shaven, swirling a glass in his left hand, his right shoulder resting casually up against the doorframe, his long legs crossed at the ankles.  His lean, powerful frame was draped in a light gray suit and he wore a blue shirt, open at the collar. He nodded when he met her gaze, and a little smile crept over his mouth and went straight into his eyes.

Carol felt her heart start to pound.

Oh my god, just *look* at that man ... and he's waiting for *me*.

That realization - that Doug wanted her - had always given Carol a surge of confidence. She walked over to him.

"Hi," she said, giving him a quick kiss and catching the liquor on his breath. "You must've been here a while."

"Not really," he replied, holding her to his body for a moment, savoring the feel of her so close, realizing how long it had been since he'd enfolded her like this, tantalized by the perfume on the nape of her neck.

He helped her out of her coat and held her at arm's length so he could look at her.

She smiled up at him engagingly. Her hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders, and she was wearing a dark blue, calf-length dress, shot through with gold thread that sparkled in the dim light. The soft, crinkly silk clung to her slim figure, flaring out slightly from the waist.

His warm gaze swept appreciatively over her and he smiled, dazzling her a little.

"What?" she said coyly.

"Just looking ... you're a sight to behold."

Carol laughed. "Oh yeah? Well, you're pretty easy on the eyes yourself," she replied. "So, this is supposed to be a hot place. Is there a wait?"

"Nope, I made a reservation. Our table's ready."

They followed the maitre'd through the busy dining room and sat down. Doug ordered a bottle of wine and they opened their menus. Carol's eyebrows shot up when she saw the prices, all of them a la carte.

"Doug - smoked salmon fettuccine in vodka lime sauce? What the heck would that taste like?"

"I have no idea, Carol. Why don't you try it?"

"Sounds kind of rich," she said, curling her lip dubiously. Carol wasn't exactly adventuresome when it came to food.

The waiter showed up with a basket of bread and their wine. He poured it out into two glasses and waited for their order.

Carol looked over the long list of unfamiliar dishes. "I think I'll have the lasagna," she said.

Doug looked over at her and grinned. "Playin' it safe?"

"I'm going out with you, Doug. I'd hardly call that playing safe," she shot back, amused when she caught the waiter suppressing a grin.

Doug chuckled. She never let him get away with a thing. "Okay, well, uh, I'm gonna try the linguine a olio with mussels," he said.

"Very good, sir. Anything else?"

"Not right now, thanks," Doug replied, and the man collected their menus and walked away.

Doug raised his wine glass and gestured to Carol. "Here's to ... not playing it safe."

"Uh ... okay," she said, smiling as she touched her glass to his and took a sip.

The wine was good and quickly went to Carol's head, making her laugh as they discovered that the fussy, overpriced food didn't live up to all the hype swirling around this establishment.

But despite the disappointment, they chatted amicably. Still, the later it got, the more restless Doug felt and the more convinced he became that they would never get past work gossip and small talk in the midst of this crowded, formal setting.

When the waiter asked if they wanted coffee and dessert, he quickly declined for both of them. After the man left the bill and walked away, Carol looked at Doug, surprised.

"Sorry, did you want something else?" he asked.

"I guess I didn't," she answered.

"Go ahead and order something if you like, Carol. I'm sorry. I was ... I was just thinking maybe we could go someplace else where we could talk ... " Doug said, hesitantly.

Carol looked up and saw him smiling down at her, his eyes crinkled around the corners, making them so soft and hopeful. His face was full of anticipation, and Carol could see he was wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Her stomach turned over and she shivered, inwardly. What was he expecting?

"Oh. Okay, Doug. Sure, we can go somewhere if you want."

_______________________________________
Playing It Safe


So Doug paid the bill and they collected their coats and went out the back way to his Jeep. He had thought of the perfect place, he hoped, where they could relax and talk in private.

He drove down by the lake, neither one of them saying much. At Navy Pier, Doug slowed and pulled into the parking lot.

Carol looked at the deserted lot and the quiet, empty pier and then looked over at Doug, questioningly.

"Doug? The Pier's closed. What are we doing here?"

"Damn it, I forgot it closes early - 7, I think it is - in the winter."

Doug drove slowly along the chainlink fence, past the shuttered stores and the wooden carnival booths, their doors secured with heavy locks and chains. A lone janitor, bundled in an overcoat and furry ear muffs, rode a sweeper over the desolate expanse of concete, picking up discarded bits of cotton candy, crumpled hot dog wrappers and empty cocoa cups.

Both of them instinctively averted their eyes from the stilled ferris wheel and the silent carousel as they passed, thinking about how things had changed since the carefree afternoon they'd spent there months ago.

Finally, Doug pulled into a parking spot at the far end of the lot, just off the lake. Beyond the glow of the pier's powerful lights, they could see the water, black and turbulent, crashing against the white hulk of shelf ice that had formed around the shoreline.

Doug shut off the engine, glancing over at Carol. Her eyes were fixed on the lake and she licked her lips nervously, wondering what he was going to say.

Doug wasn't sure where to start. He glanced over at the pier and thought a moment. "Reminds me of Atlantic City, in the winter. My Dad and I went there a couple of times. He'd spend all day in the casinos and I'd hang out on the boardwalk. It'd be mostly shut down, not many people around. Got pretty lonely."

"Hmm.... I've never been there," Carol said, taking a deep breath and then slipping out of her coat and shoes. She pulled her legs up under her dress and hugged her knees to her chest, resting her feet on the edge of the seat.  Then she tucked her coat tightly around the front of her body and huddled under it, closing her eyes and laying her head back.

Doug watched her getting settled. When she was done, all he could see of her was jacket and hair and dark eyelashes resting on her high, wide cheekbones. Her protective armor, he thought.

He took a deep breath and started, his voice quiet and hesitant:

"So, Carol, I was ... uh, I was thinking about all those things you said, the other day. About what I did. I mean, I didn't know you ... I didn't know all that still bothered you."

Carol opened her eyes but continued to look straight ahead, her expression unchanging, holding her body tightly coiled, as if she were afraid to let go.

There was a long pause. Doug waited silently, watching her, intent on giving her time.

Finally, the words came, slow and deliberate: "You *hurt* me, Doug."

Her tone was flat, without malice, yet her low voice conveyed such deep feeling that it was all Doug could do to keep from physically recoiling.

"Mmmm..." He acknowledged her statement, then looked down ruefully, shaking his head and biting his lower lip: "I know," he said. *I've never been able to forgive myself, Carol,* he thought. *Why should I expect you to ever forgive me?*

Doug stole a glance at her, watching to see if she would dare look over at him. She didn't. But she smiled, a small ironic smile, before she began to speak again, and her eyes held a faraway look.

"Y'know, I always thought - if only I was prettier, or if I indulged you more, or if I was ... better in bed, maybe you'd love me. Maybe I'd be enough for you ... but I never was." Carol's voice trembled almost imperceptibly at the last.

Doug anguished at the insecurity and self-doubt in her words. He was so intimately familiar with those twin demons himself. He looked down again, closing his eyes briefly and resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

When he looked up, he saw that Carol had turned her gaze on him. She held him captive with her eyes - large and luminous and gleaming with unspilled tears. Waiting.

Doug had to force himself - with all his might - not to flinch or look away. He thought of the night he'd been to her apartment, after her suicide attempt, and the way she'd looked up at him, so very much like this.

He'd failed her then, left her. But he was not going to do that again.

Doug shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

"No. It wasn't like that ... it wasn't that you weren't good enough," he whispered. Then he looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts: "Remember, Carol? Do you remember what I told you, when we made the video? I said you were the ... the most beautiful, the most ... responsive woman I've ever been with. I meant it. You're incredible. You always have been. It wasn't you."

Then came the question Doug had been waiting for. The one he'd been dreading.

"Then *why* Doug? Why did you ... ?"

The pain was showing on her face now, as much as he knew she was trying to keep it inside, and Doug longed to touch her hand, draw her close to him and hold her, soothe her with his body, reassure her with his mouth, cover her with kisses and make her forget.

But her body was still drawn up tightly, far from him, and he knew that he couldn't stop now. They'd come this far.

He took a deep breath. It was his turn to look out at the vast lake. "I don't know why, really, Carol," he admitted. "Maybe it was just because I could - for the thrill. Just because I was selfish. Maybe it was because cheating is what my old man did. Maybe it was my way of ... of proving myself, proving I could live up to him."

He laughed, a short, harsh sound full of irony. When he spoke again, his voice took on a self-mocking tone and he stretched an arm across the steering wheel and tapped two fingers nervously against the dashboard.

"My *therapist* said it was a ... `a way of feeling good about myself because underneath I didn't like what I'd become...' or some bullshit like that." He laughed again, shortly, and shook his head, still gazing out into the darkness.

"Y'know, the thing is, I guess I was always *scared* that if I let myself get close to someone - let myself get close to you - then I'd wind up getting hurt, like I always did."

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged a little, then looked over at her tentatively: "I dunno. I guess there are a million reasons, Carol, but not one of them is good enough. Not one of them justifies what I did to you."

Carol had sat absolutely silent while he talked, her face expressionless, not giving him any feedback.

He stared at her: "I'm sorry." There was simply nothing else to say.

Her eyes searched his, probing, testing him somehow, verifying his sincerity. Then she nodded a little, satisfied.

"I know," she whispered.

They looked at each other for a long moment and this time, neither one of them wanted to look away.

Finally, Doug broke the spell.

"So, did I ... I mean, is that ... why you, um, tried to ...?"

She stiffened. In all this time, they had never specifically discussed why she had attempted suicide. He had asked, years ago, but she'd put him off. And since she'd been out of therapy, Carol had avoided dwelling on that time in her life.

"Oh Doug, I ... I don't know. I hate to talk about it," she said, shivering a little. The car was getting cold.

But he pressed her. It all had to be said and he didn't know if there would ever be another opportunity. He reached his right hand across the car seat and laid it there, palm open, an invitation to her if she needed him. If she would let herself need him.

He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper:

"I ... I always blamed myself, Carol."

She sighed, then slowly slid the coat off her shoulders and slipped her left hand into his. His fingers closed around hers tightly and she contemplated their hands, twined together, rubbing her thumb gently across his wrist.

"I know. But you shouldn't. Please, Doug, don't do that to yourself. I never blamed you."

"Well, if it wasn't me, then ... what? Why?"

"Oh god," Carol sighed again, thinking of the dark pit she had been in, back then. She looked out the window, remembering the sleepless nights, the worry, the agony.

Then there would be nights when she would sleep and sleep and still be so tired in the morning that she could hardly get out of bed. Long days filled with guilt, the certainty that her life was meaningless. That she was worthless. That everyone who loved her would be happier without her.

"I was *depressed,* Doug. I mean, I didn't realize it, but it wasn't just sadness or stress. It was clinical depression. It's very real, you know?"

She looked at him earnestly, arching her eyebrows.

"Sure, I know it's real. It's very serious. I've seen kids suffering with it, Carol. I just ... I can't believe I didn't see it in you. I can't believe how I let you down."

"Oh, well, I was pretty good at hiding it - hiding all kinds of things, really," she smiled, bitterly.

"Like ...?"

Carol looked off over the lake again.

"Oh, like how I felt about Tag, for one thing. I mean, I wasn't faithful to him while we were engaged -- " Carol glanced over at Doug quickly. "I knew I didn't really love him, deep down. I knew I wouldn't be happy with him, probably couldn't be faithful to him. I ... I was trying to make a whole bunch of other people happy, I think, marrying him. And ... "

She paused, the torrent of words that had spilled forth faltering as she thought about the confused feelings she'd had for Doug in those days.

"I guess I was afraid that ... that I'd never have ... *you,* not for real.  Not the way I wanted you. And I worried that nobody would ever love me, that I'd never get married, that I'd never be able to love anybody else like I ..."

Carol's voice faltered again and she stopped abruptly, withdrawing her hand from his and bringing it to her face, rubbing her fingers over her eyes and sighing.

"Doug, I ... I can't do this anymore. It's too hard," she said, a sob catching in her throat and emerging, muffled, in her voice.

"Carol, shhhh... it's okay. You don't have to ... " Doug scooted across the seat and reached for her, and Carol came into his arms.

"I'm cold, Doug" she said, shivering as she put her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

"I know. Relax, let me warm you up," he murmured, his lips against her   forehead and his hands stroking over her hair. "Carol, I'm here now. We're going to get married, whenever you want to."

But as he said those words, he felt her body stiffen, and she leaned away from him, refusing to give in entirely.

"Doug, I ..."

He finished the thought for her, knowing already what she was going to say: "You don't blame me, but you don't trust me enough to make a commitment, either. You're not ready to be with me forever."

She shifted her body and Doug loosened his arms around her. Carol sat back and pulled her coat collar up under her chin again.

She thought about her father, how much she'd loved him, and the way he'd left her. She thought about Doug and the way he'd disappointed her, and used her. All the times he'd been cruel. What would happen if she commited to him now and he fell back into the same pattern? Could she risk giving herself fully and having the same thing happen?

Doug's quiet voice brought her back to reality.

"Is that it, Carol? You're not ready to make a .... commitment to me?"

Playing it safe. He had called it perfectly. He knew her too well. If only she could have more time to think about it.

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not ready, Doug. Not ... yet."

Doug sighed and swallowed his disappointment, then he turned to watch the lake for a few more minutes.

And suddenly, there was nothing more to say. They both knew it. Doug glanced at his watch then and cleared his throat. "It's cold. And it's gettin' late," he commented, taking the keys from the dashboard and starting the engine.

Neither of them spoke on the ride back, Doug watching the road and Carol looking out the window, away from him.

When he got to her house, he pulled up in front and started to turn off the car out of habit. But he stopped himself, abruptly.

*Not yet.* She needed time, she'd made that clear enough. And he loved her enough to give it to her.

He would not push his agenda on her anymore. So, maybe instead of assuming she wanted him to come inside, he should wait for an invitation.

Carol immediately unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. It took her a beat to realize that Doug had left the car idling. He wasn't getting out.

She looked over at him, surprised, about to ask him in. Her mouth opened, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped abruptly, remembering his reluctance to come over the other night. How hurt she'd felt when he turned down her invitation.

Maybe he wanted to put some space between them, to be alone. She knew her refusal to commit tonight had hurt him. Maybe he was so hurt that he didn't want to spend the night with her.

She watched Doug warily, for a second, then when he didn't move she opened the door and stepped out.

"Carol- " His voice was hoarse. He couldn't let her leave this way.

She looked back at him, saw the sadness in his face, and stopped.

"Yeah?" She climbed partially back into the car, kneeling on the seat, holding onto the top of the door for balance.

"I ..." Doug said, then looked away. Don't push yourself on her. Give her space.

"I love you," he said simply, and reached out to lay his palm against her cheek. "Good night."

Carol closed her eyes for a moment, then reached up and drew his hand slowly across her face to her mouth so she could kiss his fingers tenderly.

"Good night," she whispered, and leaned over to kiss his mouth as well. Then she turned and was out of the car and running up the porch steps and inside the house before he could try to stop her.

________________________________________________________
Midnight


*Damn.*

How did this happen again? Carol turned away from Doug's side of the bed and flopped her head onto her pillow, exasperated.

She'd had high hopes for this evening. When Doug asked her to dinner she'd been sure they would smooth out their problems and be back together tonight. And here she was, alone again.

She eyed the telephone. *Doug, please come over here. I want to be with you tonight. I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow.*

But even as Carol thought the words in her head, she knew she didn't have the courage to actually pick up the phone and say them.

***********

*Fuck this.*

Doug punched his pillow and stared at the telephone, so tempted to call or, better yet, just drive back over to Carol's house.

This was so wrong, being here alone thinking about her all night, wanting her. What was going on? It was just stupid.

Doug threw back the blanket and started to roll out of bed and look for his clothes. But a voice in his head stopped him.

*You have to wait. Take it slow, this is what she wants. What she asked for. If you love her, you have to give her time.*

Oh man.

Okay, give her time. Doug repeated those words over and over. This was what she wanted. Time.

________________________________________________________
Exodus


Another miserable night. Doug didn't know how many shifts he could work on so few hours of sleep. He hoped it would be a slow day. Thank god he had tomorrow off.

He draped his stethoscope around his neck, closed his locker and went out to check the board at the admit desk.

He couldn't shake the slight feeling of dread that had surrounded him since he'd been by Carol's house early that morning and found the place deserted. He'd been looking around for her, but hadn't seen her in the ER so far.

Where on earth was she so early? Carol had always hated getting up. Where could she have been before 7 a.m.?

Doug felt his worst fears materializing all over again. Why hadn't Carol asked him to come in last night? Because she was going to call Powell? Meet him somewhere? Was that why she couldn’t bring herself to commit?

Doug chastised himself: Stop it. Ridiculous jealousy and suspicion. There was a reason she wasn't there, he was sure. There had to be a good reason.  There just had to be.

Carol walked up at that moment, proferring the chart of an 8-year-old with a possible e-coli bacterial infection.

"I stopped by to see you this morning," he said, as they walked down the hall to the exam room.

"I had an early morning meeting," she said.

"Before 7?"

God, was he still on that kick? Was she going to have to explain herself every time she saw him? Account for every minute out of his sight?

"Are you monitoring me?" she asked, annoyed.

"Just offering you a ride."

Carol sighed. First he didn’t want to spend the night with her and then he refused to believe what she'd told him: Powell meant nothing to her. She wasn't attracted to him.

They checked on the little girl together and went on to other patients. But the ER was crowded and chaotic and Carol already felt like her day was off to a bad start.

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

Carol's beeper went off.

"It's the ER. Excuse me," she said, walking away from Sophie's bed. Thank god the girl had affirmed Doug and Carol to her mother, not mentioning the close call they'd had on the stuck elevator earlier in the day, trying to get her up to the PICU while the ER was evacuated because of a chemical spill.

What a hellacious day. The spill, Sophie nearly crashing, and Doug doing what he did best: ignoring protocol and deciding he knew how to do something right, no matter what anyone else said. She recalled his sardonic comment as he tried to pry the elevator doors open and she’d questioned what would happen if they moved suddenly: “Well, then you won’t have to worry about commitment.”

Carol sighed. She could hardly wait to clock out.

"Carol!" Doug was walking swiftly behind her, determined not to let her leave angry with him. "So, you still mad at me about this morning?"

"I was mad?" she asked.

"You accused me of spying on you."

"I never *said* that."

"Well, that's what you meant," he said.

"No, I was annoyed. You don't need to check up on me."

Doug punched the elevator button and turned to face Carol, moving closer to her.

"I wasn't. I just wanted to ... *see you* last night..." his voice trailed off and he leaned his head toward hers, hoping she would catch his meaning.

She suppressed a smile, thinking about how she’d lain awake, wanting to be with him, and imagining him doing the same thing. He could be so damned sweet, sometimes. "Me too," she confessed, looking down shyly.

He smiled, triumphant to hear her admit that she wanted him, too. "So, we shouldn't let that happen too often, should we?"

"Well, actually, I think we shouldn't let that happen at all," she said, smiling at him.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped on.

"Here goes nothing," Doug said, pushing the button for the ER. When the doors closed, he leaned close to Carol. "So, you were thinking about me last night?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I was."

"Well, we'd better do something about that, don't you think? What time are you off?"

"Right now. In fact, I was off a half hour ago."

"Well, I'm still on for a couple hours, but how about we go to dinner later?"

"Uh, after last night's dinner, I think I'd better cook. I've got class now, but I'm not doing anything later. Why don't you come over to the house and I'll burn us some eggs?"

He growled his approval, pleased at the invitation and hoping it would extend beyond dinner. "You can burn anything. It’ll be fine with me."


_____________________________________________
Dinner -- Take #2


Carol opened the door and raced into the kitchen to set her grocery bags on the counter. She was still sweaty and clammy from her class at the gym, but she'd stopped at the grocery store on the way home, knowing she didn't have much food in the house.

She'd put the perishables away later. First, to the bathroom, quickly, to turn on the shower full blast. Carol prayed that the water heater would kick in before she stripped off her T-shirt, sports bra and leggings, but it didn't. She got in anyway and endured a chilly few minutes before the warm water enveloped her.

The soap first, then the shampoo, and in record time Carol was turning off the water and hastily toweling her body dry. Still damp, she doused with a liberal amount of scented bath powder before scooting into the bedroom to add a spritz of matching perfume.

She pulled on a gray tank top, leaving her bra in the drawer, and slipped a freshly ironed, long-sleeved, black-and-white pinstriped shirt over it, leaving it unbuttoned. She stepped into her panties and her black jeans and zipped them up quickly, tucking the tank top in before she buttoned them at the waist. Next, she shoved her feet into black leather sandals, toweled her hair again and - knowing it would never dry before he showed up - gathered it into a ponytail low on her neck.

She flew out to the kitchen and unpacked her groceries, then started chopping vegetables, cracking eggs and grating cheese. Omelettes and toast, fried potatoes, steamed broccoli. It was one of those comfort meals that Doug particularly enjoyed. Carol melted a pat of butter and a drizzle of olive oil in a heavy skillet and minced some onion coarsely before she sprinkled it in.

In a few moments, the onion was soft and fragrant and Carol relished the sizzle as she slid in a cutting board-full of potato slices and spread them evenly with the back of her spatula.

She turned on the radio and hummed along as she worked, all the time  half-listening for his key in the lock.

Instead, there was a knock.

She pulled her shirt tightly across her chest and walked to the door, curious. When she opened it slightly, she saw Doug standing there with a tentative smile on his face.

"Hey," she said, opening the door wider and relaxing her grip on her blouse.

"Hi. I stopped and got these for you," he said, walking inside and holding out a colorful bouquet.

"Thanks, Doug," she said, kissing him on the cheek and taking the flowers into the kitchen. "Did you lose your key?" she called, putting them into a vase, giving her skillet a shake and pulling a beer out of the refrigerator for him.

She walked back to where he was still standing, a little awkwardly near the door, and held out the bottle.

"Thanks," he said, accepting it. "Naw, I didn't lose the key. Just .... wasn't sure if I should use it."

"Use it," she said, putting her arms around him and kissing him lightly.

"Okay." He smiled and put his arm around her back, nuzzling into her neck.   "Ummmm. That smells so good. What is it?"

"Dinner," she said, leaning back in his arms. "How do cheese omelettes sound?"

Doug looked at her a minute, then chuckled. "They sound great, Carol. But I was asking what smelled so good right here," he said, pulling her closer and rubbing his rough cheek against her neck again, inhaling deeply.

"Mmmm..." she laughed a little, holding the back of his head with her hand and stroking his hair. "That's 'Beautiful.'"

"Yep," he said, pulling his head back to look at her again. "It's very beautiful."

Carol laughed and let him go, taking a step back. "Thanks. But I meant the fragrance is called `Beautiful.'"

He grinned at her. "Well, it's very appropriate," he said.

She took his hand and walked back toward the kitchen. "It was very necessary, tonight. I took a shower when I got home from class and didn't have time to dry off real well, so I used a lot of bath powder."

Carol went back into the kitchen and resumed her work, stirring the potatoes and scrambling up the eggs while she heated water to steam the broccoli.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Yeah, you can put the flowers on the table and set it in a few minutes," she said. "For right now, just keep me company."

Doug pulled a stool out from the counter and sat down, sipping his beer.

"How was your class?" he asked.

"Great, thanks. A really good workout. I was dripping by the time we got through."

"How's your teacher - the one that's gonna have a baby?"

"Oh ... Sherry? I guess I didn't tell you. She miscarried. Only made it to 11 weeks." Carol stopped stirring and looked pensive.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Doug replied. He watched her a moment and then continued, quietly: "I guess ... we make all kinds of plans but they don't always work out like we think they're going to, do they?"

Carol glanced up at him, hearing the regret in his voice. They looked at each other a moment.

"No. I guess they don't, Doug."

They continued to look at each other, searchingly. Then the pan on the stove started to sputter loudly and Carol moved quickly to finish their meal.

Doug watched her quietly for a few minutes, drinking his beer and drinking in the sight of her as she worked diligently, strands of hair escaping from her ponytail to curl around her face, her shirt falling open far enough so that he could tell she wasn't wearing anything under the thin tank top.

It must have been weeks since they had made love, Doug thought, and he wanted her so badly that he wondered - much as he was determined to give her time, to wait for her, to let her take the lead - he wondered if he could hold off until after dinner.

_____________________________________________
Kiss Me


"The food was terrific, Carol. I'm stuffed," Doug said, standing up and starting to stack the empty plates and silverware.

"Better than Vittorio's?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, *much* better than Vittorio's - and I don't care what the Tribune says."

"Here, let me do that," Carol said, taking the dishes out of his hands. "You go out to the couch and relax. There's not much to do - I'll clean up and be out there in a couple of minutes."

Doug started to protest, but she put the plates in the kitchen sink, grabbed him another beer, took his elbow and steered him into the living room.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her insistence, and sank down on the couch gratefully, so happy to be back .... home. With Carol here, it felt like home, anyway.

Carol started loading the dishwasher, turning the radio on again, and Doug caught a familiar snatch of music. The song started with the insistent strumming of an acoustic guitar and, as Carol turned the volume up, Doug recognized the tune - it was the song he'd seen her dance to when he visited her class at the gym.

As he watched her, entranced, Carol began moving around the kitchen to the music, swaying and tossing her hair behind her, dipping and bopping, lost in the moment, unaware of his eyes on her.

"Kiss me ... out of the bearded barley, nightly ... beside the green, green grass. Swing, swing ... swing the spinning step. You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress..."

Doug watched her affectionately from the living room, mesmerized at the sight of her, her movements so fluid and her face so joyful. It was a rare moment.

The guitar riff filled the music again, louder this time and joined by a harmonica. It was such a happy song that Doug felt himself grinning.

Carol looked over and caught him smiling at her, then she tossed her  dishtowel onto the counter and flipped off the kitchen light, emerging around the corner into the living room.

"Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight," she sang with the radio, sidling up to the couch, swinging her hips. She reached back and pulled the band from her hair, shaking it out and lifting it up off her neck with her fingers, arching her back seductively for him.

Doug sat on the couch smiling at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Hey, you said you wanted a private performance, right? Here you go," she said teasingly, doing a few little steps around the couch, circling behind him and making him swivel his head to follow her.

"Lead me, out on the moonlit floor," she continued singing, approaching him again, offering her hand this time.

Doug was still smiling, but he shook his head. His natural grace and  athleticism made him a very good dancer, but he was usually reluctant to join her.

"Don't be such a guy," Carol said impatiently, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, leading him to the middle of the room and putting her arms around his neck. They swayed together then, Doug belatedly picking up the beat and moving with her body.

The music continued: "Lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon sparkling ... so kiss me ..."

The only things sparkling were Carol's dark eyes as they watched him become caught up in the music, her smile as she felt his arms around her, her face as it lit up with delight when he began to lead - pulling her into his orbit and commanding her to follow.

The music was all harmonica and tambourines, and both of them felt their spirits rising up with it until they were delirious, laughing, their bodies getting closer and closer, their movements tight and graceful.

They were giddy with the glorious feeling of being in each others' arms and letting go, letting their emotions and their bodies take them wherever they would - not having to control, or hold off, or pull back anymore.

"So kiss me ... so kiss me ... so kiss me ... so kiss me ..." Carol sang, her mouth close to his ear, and Doug could not disappoint her.

Suddenly, Carol felt his arms tighten around her and the next thing she knew, her back was against the wall and his face was buried in her hair. "Oh, Carol, Carol," he murmured into her ear. "I can't wait anymore ... I can't wait..."

Doug was kissing her neck roughly, his face scratching her, his hands sliding her shirt off and then roaming, pulling the tank top out of her pants and exploring her warm, naked back.

"I can't wait anymore, Carol," he murmured again, insane with desire, emitting incoherent moans from deep in his throat.

He reached down and pulled her hips against his and she felt him, hard and insistent, through his pants. He slid his hands around to lift the tank top in front and then he was leaning over, kissing her breasts and stroking them, making her moan in anticipation of him.

"I can't wait, Carol," he said again.

"Me neither, Doug," she whispered.

"I have to have you, right now."

And in reply, Carol sank down to the floor, pulling him on top of her, and took his face in her hands, leaning in to kiss him, hard, on the mouth.

_____________________________________________
Not Playing It Safe


Doug rolled over and looked at Carol.

Her unclad form was illuminated by the moon and she seemed so beautiful, lying languidly beside him in her bed, that he almost feared she was an illusion that would disappear under his gaze.

He lifted her hair off the pillow and slid his right arm under her neck, reaching down her body with his left, laying his hand over hers where it rested softly on her stomach.

"I hope I didn't dazzle you *too* much."

Carol turned to glance at him, considering this thinly disguised request for a compliment. It was unusual for Doug to need reassurance, she thought, so she squeezed his fingers and decided not to tease him, for once.

Besides, she had come twice, in rapid succession, on the living room floor earlier and she was still basking in the generous afterglow of their frenzied lovemaking.

"I think you've dazzled me ever since I first laid eyes on you, Doug," she said, seriously.

Doug smiled, pleased.

"Oh yeah? I thought so," he said, letting go of her hand and trailing his fingers lightly down her thigh and back up again, his featherlight touch raising goosebumps on her flesh as it passed up her side, outlined her breast and tickled her shoulder.

"I just ... don't want to wear you out."

"No danger of that, Doug, believe me."

"Good." He continued to brush her skin with his fingertips, softly, moving up the side of her neck now and across her cheek, making her shiver a little.

"You know, what my mom told me about men was all wrong."

Doug was intent on tracing over her chin and mouth now. He had heard this before. Carol complained about Helen every time she called, which was twice a week at least. What they needed to do, he thought, was invite her over to the house soon, have a nice meal together - all three of them. He knew he could win her over if only he had a chance.

But he would broach that idea with Carol later.

"You mean ... she was wrong when she warned you to be suspicious of men because they can't be trusted and all they'll do is break your heart?" he asked, his index finger grazing her lips. "I thought I proved her right on that one."

"No, I mean how she told me that men want to use women for sex but they don't give them anything back, except bills to pay and babies to feed," she said.

"Hmm." Doug contemplated this, brushing her hair away from her forehead tenderly and raking his fingers through her curls. "Different generation, Carol. Women and men had different expectations about things like sex. I'm just glad you think she was wrong."

"Actually, I thought she was right. Until I met you. You proved her wrong."

Doug smiled and stretched his hand across her neck, turning her face to him slightly and drawing his fingers and thumb together along her jawline toward her chin, putting slight pressure on her cheeks until her lips pouted and her mouth opened slightly.

He leaned in and she expected to feel his lips on her own, but instead his tongue met hers, hot and wet, surprising her, and then withdrew.

"Oooh, you're frisky tonight," she murmured.

"Frisky? Sounds like a dog I had once," he said, pushing her mouth open again and tonguing her, longer this time, titillating her and then pulling back just as she felt like she had to have more.

"Ummmm," she sighed, closing her eyes and reaching her mouth toward  him blindly, searching for him.

Doug grinned at this proof that he could make her crave him. She was tired, he knew, and a few minutes ago she probably would have protested if he had suggested that they make love again. Now, she was seeking him out.

"Proved her wrong, did I?" he asked, teasingly.

"Yes," she whispered, her lips finding his mouth and her tongue meeting his this time.

Doug responded, kissing her for a long moment, and then pulling away again. "Even about men only breaking your heart in the end? Did I prove her wrong about that?"

Carol opened her eyes at this and saw him gazing down at her intently. "Yes," she said.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling, then gently pulled her toward him, turning her on her side, and yanked the sheet up over her, tucking it beneath her body and wrapping it around her tightly before he turned her and tucked it under her on the other side.

In short order, Carol found herself shrouded from the chest down, her arms pinned at her sides under the sheet.

Doug contemplated her, remembering the way she’d shielded herself from him the night before, covering herself with her coat as they talked in the car. Tonight, he wanted to take the covers off, strip her armor away and show her that she did not need protection from him.

"Doug? What are you ..." she began.

"Don't move, Carol. Shhhh... No more playing it safe, remember?"

"But Doug ..."

He interrupted her, kissing her deeply. "I love you, Carol. Shhhh..."

She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but Carol knew she could trust him. She had never had another lover who knew her and stretched her like he did. He was forever reveling in her body - worshipping it, almost - knowing almost instinctively how to please her, yet still studying her, watching her every reaction to his touch, his mouth on her, seeming to know just what she was feeling and how she liked things, without her ever having to tell him.

He shifted his body until he was laying over her, one elbow propped on either side of her face, and began to kiss her slowly again and again, meeting her tongue with his own, licking over her lips, until her face was wet and Carol was lost, at his mercy, her whole being intent on what he was doing.

She wriggled a little and began to moan, helpless, feeling close to orgasm even though he had not yet touched her below the neckline.

Then Doug slipped a finger into her mouth and moved it in and out gently, letting her suck on it wetly and slide her tongue over it. Slowly, he peeled the sheet back to expose her breasts and removed his finger from her mouth, kissing her again and sliding his wet finger slowly down her chest, along her breastbone, making her groan with desire.

He did it over and over, getting his fingers wet in her mouth and then giving her his lips while he caressed her breasts, her nipples, then slid the sheet down further, inch by inch, finally exposing her entirely and stroking over her clitoris, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

When he felt her getting close to the edge, Doug pulled her into his arms and rolled on top of her, parting her thighs and slipping inside her, fitting so tightly.

Carol gasped and clung to him, overwhelmed with his strength and his unlimited ability to subdue and pleasure her.

He kissed her still, as he moved on top of her unhurriedly, and she could tell he was deliberately delaying his climax.

“Come, Carol. I love you. I’m waiting for you,” he whispered seductively, making her wince and reach for the ending, wanting to submit to his desire fully.

He saw her pushing against the edge and kissed her passionately, using his tongue again, arousing her until she could go on no more and for a long moment she felt suspended between pain and ecstasy. She broke off the kiss and her body went rigid, until she was almost unaware of him still pushing inside of her. Then tremors of pleasure shook her deeply and she realized from his moans and twitching that they were coming together, each one enhancing the other’s experience.

They groaned and held each other until their bodies were limp and wet and their strength was depleted. Doug’s head felt too heavy to hold up anymore and he dropped it onto her shoulder where she cradled it in her arms, kissing his hair and his eyelids and his cheeks.

“I love you, Doug,” she sighed, not even realizing that she’d never offered up those words before without prompting.

But Doug knew it immediately and he smiled lazily, relieved and happy. “I love you, too. And I’m going to be patient, Carol,” he whispered. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. But I’m going to be here and I intend to have you, so you might as well stop fighting me. You’re going to be mine, Carol. In the end, you’re going to be mine.”

The End