AUTHOR: Caeliste
TITLE: She's Your Cocaine
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: I wish.
ARCHIVE: Probably, but please ask first. FEEDBACK: Would be wonderful. Send it to me at erfemslash@p... DISCLAIMER: ER is the intellectual property of Constant C Productions, Amblin Entertainment, and Warner Brothers Television and probably Big Brother. Blah blah blah, yakkity smakkity. NOTES: I'm sorry for the long delay. People who read my stories are probably used to it by now. Part Four is coming along nicely and should be ready soon. I'm on vacation, so that helps.

Thanks again to Mosca for being a great beta. You know how to make a decent story good. This is the third part of a series, starting with "And It's Not the Weather" (#30830 on Whatever Weaver Wants) and followed by "Only Wet Because of the Rain" (#31677). The series is also archived on my website, ER Femslash: http://erfemslash.populli.net.

After Kerry left -- or fled, depending on your perspective -- I stood at my window and stared down at the street, empty at this hour except for a bum pushing a shopping cart. I lit a cigarette and stared at the bottle of red wine on my kitchen table. I imagined the bitter tang of it sliding down my throat, could almost feel the heady warm rush of it. I went through several kitchen drawers before remembering that I'd thrown out my corkscrew after the whole Brian/Joyce fiasco. A shower seemed like a good idea.

The water probably should have been cold, but I couldn't handle the thought of shivering alone in my bed. Water hot enough to turn my skin bright pink cascaded over my body. I started to cry. I turned my head so that the cool shower tiles pressed against my cheek and found my clit with my fingers.

I crawled into bed feeling like a husk of myself, dry and featherlight.

Kerry wasn't around when I got to work. I walked to the lounge to put away my coat and grab a cup of coffee. Susan was there, her head nestled in the crook of her arm, dozing. She had a mug in her other hand, balanced precariously on her knee. I took it from her and put it back on the table.

I opened the fridge to get cream for my coffee and someone's lunch container fell to the floor with a clatter. "Shit," I muttered.

Susan stirred awake, stretching her legs out in front of her. "No, lunch. But you're close." She yawned. "That's mine. I guess I wasn't too careful when I put it in there."

I shrugged and stuffed it back in the already packed refrigerator. Susan took a sip from her mug on the table and winced. She got up and tossed the rest of the contents in the sink and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. She looked at me carefully.

"Are you feeling all right, Abby?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Thanks," I said, dumping spoonful after spoonful of sugar into my mug.

"Abby, I'm just trying to be your friend. I thought we got close after that thing with Carter..."

"I have to get to work, Susan."

"If you need to talk --"

"See ya later," I said, escaping into the hallway. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, leaning my back against the doorjamb. I opened my eyes just in time to see Kerry, focused on a chart, stretch out her arm to push open the staff room door. Her palm landed squarely on my breast.

She looked away from her chart, eyes wide. "Abby...I'm...I'm so sorry." Her face was turning pink.

"It's okay, Dr. Weaver. It's not like you did it on purpose. Right?" She blushed brighter. I felt embarrassed for her, but it went down smooth as an icy cold bottle of beer. Satisfying.

Kerry took a deep breath. "Can I speak to you in private?"

"I don't know. Can you?" I felt a smirk curl up the edges of my mouth.

"Abby..."

"Dr. Weaver."

"May I speak to you in private?"

"The roof okay? I'm dying for a smoke."

We were alone in the sunshine -- all that stood between us and the rest of the world was a creaky door. I inhaled deeply on my cigarette, letting the smoke linger in my lungs.

"Abby?"

I raised my eyebrows and waited. Kerry shifted her weight onto her crutch.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For running away?" I snorted. "I'm good at making people disappear. It's a neat party trick." Kerry's eyes drilled into me, vibrant and hazel and hurt. Curious, too, maybe.

"For being a coward."

I took another drag off my cigarette and blew it, hot and bitter, from my nose in twin streams. "Everybody's scared of the Big Bad Lockhart, like I'm some kind of --"

"Will you have dinner with me?"

"-- monster." I stared at her, stunned into silence. She reached out and pushed a stray hair off my forehead. Her fingers trailed slowly down my cheek and touched my lips. She paused there, thumb rubbing gently over my bottom lip. I could hear her breathing, quick and shallow.

She pulled away. "I'll cook for you."

I swallowed. "Okay."

"Tonight? I get off at nine. I know it's late..."

"I can't." I chewed my lip. "I'm on until midnight."

"You're off at eight. I called Chuny."

I reached out and took her hand. It was hot and a little sweaty, but strong. "What are we having?"

She pulled my hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to my palm. Her mouth was open and wet. Her tongue flickered over my lifeline and I felt the heat of it race straight to my clit. "I don't want to spoil the surprise." Kerry opened the door and disappeared into the building.