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The show ER, and all characters and situations borrowed from it, are property of
Constant-C, NBC, Warner Brothers, etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only, and no
money is made from it. The story contains graphic scenes and words which may offend some
readers, and as such, it is not appropriate for children under 18. This story is not to be
archived or distributed without the permission of the author.
Stories in the series can be found in chronological order at:
http://www.oocities.org/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/jordan.htm
http://members.tripod.com/~maraldo/jordan.html
http://members.tripod.com/~erfanfic/jordan.html
Stories in the series:
A Clean Break; Stages of Ending; Retribution; Covenant; Tap-dance; Free Falling; Blink of
an Eye; Vivisection; Keepsakes; In the Steam; Through the Night; Cornerstone; Domesticity;
Caretaker; To CH; The Empty Space; Tenderhearted; Intoxicated; The Present; Summit; The
Harbor, Part I; The Harbor, Part II; Transition Game; Expectations; Joint Venture; Kiss of
Life; Residuum; Aftermath; Letters Never Sent; Wonderful Things; The Mere Fragrance;
Walking the Tightrope; Vernal Equinox
Thanks again to Ruth, Claire, and Katy. You're invaluable!
Vernal Equinox
by Jordan
jturner36@juno.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To have and not to hold
So hot, yet so cold
My heart is in your hand
And yet you never stand
Close enough for me to have my way
- Madonna
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm about halfway through my pregnancy now. Amazing, isn't it? This past winter seems so
far away. That night in February, it...well, it seems so long ago.
They came for the boxes today. Two guys, looked like college students. Rang the bell two
hours late without apologizing. I pointed to his pile in the basement and they cleared
everything within twenty minutes. Maybe it was faster. I wanted to ask where they were
taking them. The boxes. What was the address? I didn't, though. I can find him, I have his
work number. I can find him if I need to.
I...this is going to sound so dumb, but I wanted to ask them how he was doing, what he was
thinking about. Like they would know anything. These were the damned moving guys. They
didn't know anything. You see, I know the answer. I just don't want to think about it.
Because I know how he's doing.
It isn't that hard now. It took a while, but I'm used to it. Sure, I expected it to work
out differently. I did. I'm being honest. He'd always come back before, he could never
stay away. That's why I was so surprised. You see, I counted on it, then. It's what
sustained me, back then.
Well. Some days it's harder than others.
The hardest time of day is after dinner. I mean, it is when I'm working days. I clean up
after myself and then look around wondering how else to spend my time. Up until today, the
weather had been perfect. It was sunny, cool, breezy. You know, when you leave the windows
open and forget all about winter. But it's been raining lately.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To love but not to keep
To laugh, not to weep
Your eyes they go right through
And yet you never do
Anything to make me want to stay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes I go for a walk in the evening. It was awkward at first. I felt awkward.
We...Doug and me, we were never really that close to the neighbors. Oh, we'd wave from the
backyard, pick up each others' mail, borrow a stick of butter, but we'd just surface-talk,
you know? Hi, how are you, yes, it's cold/hot/muggy/beautiful out. They know I am a nurse,
that Doug's a doctor, but no one ever took advantage of us. Well, there was that one night
when Mrs. Baruski's baby had the croup and she called in a panic. I remember her voice on
the phone and it was the one time she didn't use his first name.
"Please, Carol, can you or Dr. Ross come over quickly, please can you see the
baby?" Maybe she thought if she used the word "doctor" everything would be
okay, it would turn out all right. People tend to be like that when they're panicked. They
want it all to be okay. They think the doctor will always make everything okay.
Doug pulled on some clothes and went over. I got there a few minutes later, and there he
was, in the bathroom, holding the baby in his arms with the shower running full blast. He
had peeled off his sweatshirt and was sitting on the edge of the tub in his T-shirt, his
hair all curly from the humidity, talking to the captivated baby in a calm, soothing
voice. You know, it was times like that...he was meant to do this in his life, he was born
to care for children.
Most of the time we kept to ourselves. So for me, now, to walk outside while I am visibly
pregnant is...uncomfortable. No one asks, and I guess they just assume Doug has up and
left me. He has, you know. He left me. But, they probably think he left because I was
pregnant. They really wouldn't know the truth. They'll just surmise it. They won't
know I refused him, too.
The thing about it is, I'm happy to be expecting the babies. Sometimes I can't believe
there are two. When Doug does something, he goes all out. Two babies. His.
I've thought about it a lot. I vacillate. Sometimes I want two girls, two sweet little
girls. They'd share a room, have each other to giggle with at night. We'd be three women,
together. But then I think, no.
Girls, you know, and their mothers, it's such a rocky road. I think maybe a mother sees
herself in her daughters, knows her own heartache and she wants to spare them. I'm afraid
I'd be that way, too, with daughters. Warning them about falling in love. About how much
it hurts, afterward. How to hold something back, something for themselves.
The other thing is, little girls need their fathers. They do, you know. They need them
around. Most people, they think it's the boy that needs him so much, but I don't know.
Bickleman -- he was my shrink, a few years ago -- he said that I had so much trouble
allowing myself to be loved because I could never believe a man would love me. I would
never trust a man to stay with me. All this stuff about how my father abandoned me. I
mean, he didn't abandon me, he died. He died. He didn't really leave. Not like Doug did. I
asked him to stay.
So, then sometimes I think two boys would be great. Two boys. Yeah, two of them.
Watching them grow from tiny babies into rough and tumble toddlers. Being their
first love, now that's heady, you know? Scrubbing the dirt from their brown knees in the
summertime. Listening to their whispered plans for the next day late at night when they're
supposed to be asleep.
My fear? Oh, it's not a fear, really. It's just...I hate to even say it. What if they look
exactly like him? If they're the spitting image of their father? Seeing his face every
day, falling in love with it all over again. His grin, his eyes.
What if they have his heart? How can I protect them then? I don't want my boys to be
vulnerable. I don't. Maybe they won't end up alone if they have each other. Maybe a
brother is just what they need. So they won't grow up alone.
In the end, I don't know what I want.
No matter, they grow more each day. My body, it's phenomenal. It's really something to
see. In just a week's time, nothing fit. Nothing at all. No jeans, no khakis. My scrubs, I
can wear for a while, because of the drawstring. This belly, it's got a mind of its own.
He'd be...surprised, seeing me now. The last time I saw him, I was naked in bed with him.
He made love to me, held me close to him. Now, my belly...he -- he wouldn't be able to get
that close, not like that night. He told me he loved me that night. I...I haven't heard
that since. It's what made me cry. That and, well, he asked me if I still belonged to him.
I was so hurt, I never answered him. Then, he just turned away from me and stayed very
still. I should have answered him.
They talk about how beautiful pregnant women are. I don't know. I mean, beautiful? Doug
was the expert. He never had a problem attracting beautiful women. It was hard, even when
we weren't together, knowing he could have almost any woman he wanted. Invariably, they'd
be young and gorgeous. Sometimes, in my mind, I'd remember them, remember the glimpses of
them I'd see just before he went out. The way he placed his hand on them. Then, of course,
I'd compare my body, and I'd always come up short. He loved my body, then. He did. I mean,
I didn't, really. But he did. If he saw me now, he...well, I've really changed.
I imagine he might start seeing someone. I don't know, maybe. I mean, why not? He's...he's
unattached now, he can. Got his own place again, he can travel. You see a guy like him in
a bar, your mind just wanders. If he catches your eye, grins, you're gone. You're his for
the night. You get to have him for one night.
Trouble is, once you have him, one night just isn't enough.
I used to worry, before. I did. My brain would graft his face, his hungry body onto
pictures with other women. I mean, it's not like I would ever want to think about it, but
it would creep in anyway. I know what he likes, what he'd look for in a woman. I know what
it's like, having him make love to you. He knows it, too. What he does to you. He
could read a woman, and then he'd know when to touch lightly, when to tease. How to
overpower you with just one look. Damn, he knew.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
Mmm...
You're to have, not to hold
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Very few people know him. I mean, really know him. I know, I think, what's happening now.
Because I do know him. I do. He's working all kinds of hours, smiling, friendly, doing his
job. Probably goes to some playground somewhere after work; basketball exorcises demons.
Then, he might stop for some Chinese food. Taco Bell, sometimes. He bitched when they
stopped making those fajitas. He could put those away. Then, he'd go home. Watch a game on
television. Stare at it for hours. Same thing, next day. Saturday, he might make breakfast
for himself. It would be the only time he'd cook. He didn't really like to cook dinner
just for himself, he never would if he had to be by himself. But, he'd cook breakfast.
Bacon, eggs, sometimes home fries. There might even be jazz playing in the background.
He'd eat, then stuff as much as he could into the dishwasher.
He would spend the weekend alone almost all the time. You see, he was always well-liked,
but he had very few close friends. He wanted male friends, he did. But sometimes he just
didn't know how to find them. I always felt he was a bit intimidated sometimes around
other men, like they had some secret from their childhood that he'd missed, some magic
formula passed down from father to son that he never had. Mark, he and Mark, now that was
a funny one. Really. I mean, they have so little in common. They were friends, but I know
Doug wouldn't open up to him like he would to me, even before we dated.
He just couldn't.
I know he had it rough when he was little. I figured it out long before he told me. I
could tell. It was the way he'd regard the little ones when they came through the doors.
It was, in fact, the subject of one of our deepest discussions just this past Christmas.
Ray wasn't always a monster. He was a smooth-talking charmer. Huh. Yeah. I know all about
that. Doug said Ray was great. Until he started drinking. Then he'd turn violent. He was
pretty intolerant of anyone else, though, and wanted to live life his own way. Inflexible,
I guess. I often wondered if that's why Doug had so much trouble with Kerry Weaver. I'm
not comparing Kerry to Ray, no, that's not what I mean. But she can be inflexible, too.
That's not such a bad thing, someone needs to be in charge, make sure things go smoothly,
by the book, but Doug rebels against it. He never wanted anyone to rein him in.
He was always worried, I think, deep down inside about becoming Ray. Sure, he had the
drinking, the womanizing, the reckless attitude down pat. No, he was afraid one day he'd
turn violent, just like his father. It frightened him to death, I knew. But, you know, he
never would. I'd always reassure him, he never would. His heart was too kind, his hands
too gentle.
Now that it stays light out until later, I walk past the playground sometimes. There's
always a pickup game, mostly younger guys. Doug would go out, he'd play with them. At
times he'd have to leave the court, it was tough for him to keep up. But most of the time,
he was in the thick of it. He loved to play here. Sad thing is, I'm sure none of the guys
wonder where he is. It's like that with guys. One day, a man shows up to play ball, then
another, he disappears. They don't wonder about him, if he's okay. If he's lonely. To
them, he was just another guy. Another face.
What do I think? Really?
What, about love? Him?
If I had to put it into words, I guess...what I'd most likely say is that he would have
given me the moon if he could.
Why he didn't stay, I don't know. Maybe, in my own way, I was testing him. It was our last
hurdle. Would he sacrifice everything for me? That's what I wanted to know. Would he
die inside for me?
Thing was, that night he was already dead inside. In my anger, at first, I thought it was
Mark or Kerry. They'd done it, killed his soul. But in the end, I know who did it.
I know who it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To look but not to see
To kiss but never be
The object of your desire
I'm walking on a wire
And there's no one at all to break my fall
You're to have, not to hold
You're to have... not to hold
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end
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