THE REASON
By Missy
(missy@lexicon.net)

The characters that you recognise from ER are the property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros, Constant Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who so marvellously portray them. Many thanks must go to my editors Clotho, Susan Drake and Carolyn Delaney for their tireless and marvellous editing. Season 6 spoilers.

Spoilers up to The Peace of Wild Things or thereabouts. This story is rated R due to its content. It contains rather disturbing descriptions and is probably best read during daylight hours. My editors have informed me that it is rather chilling, creepy and does evoke some of those thoughts about things that go bump in the night and one of my editors has knicknamed it 'The VeryScaryFic".



PART 3/14

"Could you please turn on the lights?" Kerry's voice was soft and husky as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. For a moment the room dipped and spun, reminding her to take things a bit more slowly. Her body was telling her to just lie back and take it easy but she no longer wished to lie on the bed that had become her prison.

Her hands had now been released from the constricting bonds and she rubbed the raw, reddened areas of her wrists. She no longer wanted to endure the soft yellow light from the side lamp. The room had taken on a sinister air, the gentle radiance from the light allowing shadows to enter the bedroom. Darkness which allowed evil to penetrate and destroy.

She watched Mac cut the cords from her feet. They seemed disconnected from her; the small feet lying completely still, the delicate sweep of each ankle marred by more redness. Kerry watched the tiny droplets of blood which were intermingled in the rawness with a detached sense of fascination as they gradually changed colour from bright red to a dark burgundy. Somewhere, deep down, she knew that there should be some sort of pain associated with the fact that there was blood, but there wasn't. The last of the heavy rope fell away from her ankles and she quickly pulled her legs up, hugging them close to her chest, away from the touch of the police officer's hands.

Mac looked up at her reaction, understanding why she wanted no contact with him, yet wanting to do something for this petite woman sitting huddled in the middle of the bed. He noticed that her hands were shaking, the delicate fingers trembling and jumping . He moved away from her, his actions slow and deliberate, so as not to startle her, and he went across the room to turn on the lights.

Kerry avoided any direct contact with his eyes when she asked, "Can you pass me some clothes?" Her voice broke as she finished the sentence and a tear spilled down her cheek. She turned away from Mac, slipping her legs over the edge of the bed to dangle above the floor, and brushed the stray tear with the back of her hand.

Mac flicked the switch for the bedroom light before handing her the heavy cream-coloured housecoat he had found hanging on the hook behind the bedroom door. He had noticed it when he had checked behind the door for the intruder. Now he wondered what his partner was doing, moving to the doorway to have a look. He could hear the sounds of movement back in the living area and recognised the footfalls of his tall, well-built partner.

"Thank you," Kerry said quietly as she got unsteadily to her feet and took hold of the housecoat. She had to check her grip on the material when she almost dropped it, her fingers still numb from the constricting cords. Wrapping the housecoat around herself with deliberate care, Kerry secured the belt firmly around her waist. Sinking gratefully back onto the support of the bed, she hugged her arms across herself tightly, her fingers toying nervously with the edge of the terrycloth belt.

The static sound of a mobile radio blared into action, breaking the silence and causing Kerry to jump visibly. She was surprised to find she hadn't noticed Mac had left her side and was now talking to a heavy-set officer whose bulk filled the doorway. Distantly, she knew she should be wanting to know what they were talking about. But all she really wanted right now was to curl up on the sofa, with a light on, and some music to break the silence. Anything that would keep the house from being dark and silent.

"Your name is Kerry? Kerry Weaver?" The senior police officer, who had been consulting with Mac, spoke to her. His voice was deep and gravelly, devoid of any emotion, and seemingly honed to manage to deal equally efficiently with all of the wide variety of people he met on a daily basis. The large officer's beefy hand held a card, which he consulted before he looked back across at her.

"Yes. That's right," she replied, her voice breaking as she said the three words. Kerry realised that he had located her driver's licence. Her purse had been sitting on her desk, and she was grateful that the intruder had not taken it. Having to cancel all her credit cards and rearrange new cards, licences, and the other bits and pieces she kept in there would have been a nuisance.

"Can I call you Kerry? I'm Officer Jack Daniels." Officer Daniels softened his voice, sensing Kerry's emotional fragility.

She gave a single nod, not trusting her voice to betray her again. The affirmative nod sent a streak of pain through her head, and she took heed of the physical warning, avoiding any further movement. Kerry kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to still the tremors that had started with her hands and were quickly spreading through her, rocking her entire body.

"Kerry, how about we all go into the living room and we can sit down there?" While Officer Daniels entered the room, he kept his distance from Kerry, wary of what Mac had told him, how she had reacted to his touch.

Kerry went to stand up and realised that her crutch was missing, probably still located somewhere near the basement - at least that was where she assumed it would be. But right now she didn't want to use the aluminium pole that had resulted in her being knocked unconscious and tied to her bed.

"I need my cane. Could you get it for me? It's in the umbrella stand." She didn't trust herself to be able to walk the distance to the living area.

Mac left to fetch the cane she reserved for special occasions. While she gingerly got to her feet, she noticed that Officer Daniels was watching her carefully, assessing and scrutinising her. She cringed under his probing look and he realised that he was making her uncomfortable. Turning his attention away from Kerry, he examined the room from where he was standing, noting the remnants of the rope attached to each post of the bed.

"The paramedics and detectives should be here any moment," he commented, trying to ease her discomfort, but only serving to make her more on edge.

"I'm fine." Kerry knew she wasn't 'fine' but she didn't need paramedics or any doctors to tell her that. "I'm a doctor so you can cancel the paramedics."

"You've got a shiner and cut to the side of your face that'd rival one issued by Ali. I'd like you to get checked out, just to be on the safe side." Jack tried his best to get her to accept the fact that she'd be seen by the paramedics.

Mac returned to the room and handed Kerry the polished wood cane with its carved metallic handgrip. Bearing her weight on the cane, she moved with care into the well-lit hallway, and descended down the stairs to the ground floor, heading towards the living area, and leaving the two police officers to follow her.

They almost knocked Kerry over when she stopped suddenly, once she had reached the ground floor, at the open basement door. She was mesmerised by her crutch where it lay in the doorway, dented and marred by a smear of blood.

On the floor there was a larger blood stain and she vividly remembered the scene at the top of the stairs, the way she had swung the crutch around, catching her attacker underneath his chin. She had heard his teeth snap together and the anger which had flared in his eyes. Once again, she saw his fist coming at her, and this time heard the crack as it connected, bone to bone. The room shimmered and swirled, the lights dimming to a pinpoint before fading out all together, her body falling into emptiness.



"Kerry?" Jack was just fast enough to catch her before she collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. Her cane cluttered to the floor near the open door, lying parallel to her crutch; the straight, dark wooden staff a sharp contrast to the bent and bloodied crutch, its flawlessness a memory.

"I don't know if I'd trust her judgement if she was my doctor," Mac quipped, collecting the cane from the floor, as Jack easily picked Kerry up in his arms and carried her into the living room.

Jack gave him a warning glare. "She didn't want to admit her weakness. This woman has just been tied up at the mercy of some lunatic; I don't blame her for wanting to try and maintain some control, even if she wasn't up to it."

Mac had the decency to look contrite at his partner's reprimand as he placed the cane back into the umbrella stand. It was all too easy to become immune to a victim's needs, treating them with the same flippancy used to cope with the day to day pressures of the job. When a victim was unconscious and could obviously not hear what was being said, it was very tempting to say things that he would not consider under other circumstances. His partner had lectured him on giving all people, no matter whether conscious or unconscious; black or white; an equal amount of respect.

The sound of several sirens heralded the arrival of paramedics and detectives. The flash of red and blue lights coming through the open curtains gave the room a kaleidoscopic appearance. Jack laid Kerry gently onto the white leather couch. He picked up a pillow from the recliner and placed it underneath her head and readjusted the housecoat to ensure that she was completely covered.

"I'll go outside and show them in." Mac felt awkward and like a loose limb, watching his usually brusque partner gently tending to the needs of the unconscious doctor.

"You do that," Jack agreed shortly. He was annoyed with himself for not being more careful with Kerry. He had known what lay at the top of the basement stairs and his years of experience should have dictated his actions.

Taking a look out the window, he wondered what was taking the paramedics so long. Mac was talking to them as the two paramedics pulled their gear from the ambulance.

Within moments the house was bustling with movement. The detectives began their inspection of the crime scene. Jack accompanied the detectives on their inspection, leaving Mac to sit by Kerry, and gave details of what they had found when they had arrived. A police photographer began his task in the bedroom, capturing in achromatic images the remnants of the attack, devoid of any human attachment.

The paramedics dropped their medical paraphernalia to the floor, their eyes opening wide as they took in who the patient was.

"How long has she been unconscious?" Zadro asked, pushing the coffee table out of the way to give himself room to open the medical box.

"A couple of minutes. She fainted in the hallway," Mac told them. He thought for a moment, and then continued, "She may have lost consciousness before that though. I'm not sure, since I didn't ask. I was more concerned with getting her untied."

Doris looked at him quizzically, wondering the extent of the assault that Dr. Weaver had endured. The call on the radio had only relayed that a woman had been assaulted. She had noted the broken glass in the door, and had assumed that the it was a domestic violence matter. The mention of the small doctor having been bound made her blood run cold. Doris checked Kerry's breathing and pulse rate, telling Zadro the results.

Zadro pulled out the blood pressure cuff and knelt by Kerry's side. He pushed the sleeve of her housecoat up and found that he could not get it up far enough to enable him to wrap the cuff around her upper arm. Undoing the belt of the gown, he removed her arm carefully from the sleeve and slipped the cuff around her thin arm. While taking the pressure, he noted the abrasions to her wrist and the traces of bruising to her arm.

As Doris flashed the penlight into Kerry's eyes, Kerry jerked her head sideways, pushing away at the light with her right hand. Feeling the constriction around her left arm, she roused to consciousness quickly, twisting away from the tightness and seeking release. Terror filled her and she struck out forcefully at her unseen attacker, her left hand connecting with flesh as fear gripped her once again. A sob of panic escaped the constriction of her throat as she struggled to move away.

Hands caught hold of her wrists and she fought against them. Another set of hands caught hold of her face, a voice gently repeating over and over that she was safe. The words broke through the waves of alarm, her jerky movements abated, and the familiar face of Doris came into focus.

"Hi. Can you tell me your name?"

Kerry nodded, whispering her name. Catching sight of the red mark on Zadro's cheek, she felt her own cheeks reddening, her pale skin a traitor to her emotions. Embarrassment flooded through her as she realised that she had caused the injury. "I'm sorry." Kerry whispered the words over and over. She pushed herself further up on the couch and found the room dip and spin, the lights fading for a moment before becoming spots across her vision.

"Easy Dr. Weaver. Your BP is fairly low and you'll be feeling the effects of that." Zadro debated whether to say any more or just accept that he'd gotten that far. The doctor he knew from County General was strong and he was having trouble equating her with the quivering mass of nerves before him now. Throwing caution out the window, he continued, "How about you just lie back and let Doris finish examining you?"

Doris lightly put her hands on Kerry's shoulders, gently encouraging her to lie down. Kerry gave in to the soft touch and allowed herself to settle back onto the pillow. Crouching down on his haunches, Zadro noted down the details of her exam on the chart.

Kerry settled back on the pillow, not wishing to experience a third loss of consciousness that night. If she was conscious, she would be able to have a say in her medical care. Doris continued her examination, doing so with virtually no comment. Kerry winced when she palpated her left cheekbone and orbital area.

"Did you lose consciousness when you were hit?"

Kerry nodded in the affirmative and regretted the movement. The ache in her head was steadily increasing and the left side of her face felt like it was about to explode.

"We'll need to take you to County." Doris' words were firm as she looked at Kerry eye to eye. The challenge was laid down.

"No."

"Dr. Weaver, you have at the very least a concussion. You need a head CT, orbital and mandible x-rays to check that there are no fractures. You know the procedure for a concussion and know that if you had a patient with your case history, you would insist that they spend the night for observation."

"I don't you to take me to County. I don't want them to know about this. Please, take me to Mercy. I don't want you to take me to County." Kerry's eyes flicked between the two paramedics, pleading with them to do as she asked.

They knew the rules about taking the patient to the closest hospital or as directed by their HMO. They didn't want to get reprimanded; yet the look in Kerry's eyes at the thought of her colleagues knowing about this moved them both to ignore the rules and follow compassion for a fellow healthcare worker.

End Part 3/14