One Candle Burns




Author's Notes: Happy new year! I think this is probably the fastest I’ve ever written anything. Part 2 took me 2 months, and part 3 took me 2 days! Thank God for Christmas vacation!

I will admit that this episode is a teensy bit depressing, and... quite dramatic (have I ever written anything that wasn’t just dripping with angst?). Just keep in mind that the situation will get better!

The song used in this piece is ‘In Your Keeping’, by Jann Arden.

Thanks to Kitty, for her thoughts and ideas and the numerous, wonderful beta-type things she does.

Hey, I actually wrote a relatively *short* intro! Praise the Lord, it’s a miracle!

___________________________________________________________________

One Candle Burns – Part 3

‘Peacefully Sleeping’


March 5th, 1999


Tell me I will never die
Take away my pain
Rock me gently in your arms
Say that I’ll remain...
In your keeping
___________________________________________________________________

“Doug...” His name fell upon her lips softly, whispered in pleading supplication, as she reached for him.

“I’m here,” he soothed, drawing her near, cradling her head against his chest.

“I’ve missed you...” Carol murmured. “I really missed you...” A sense of deep relief and gratification coursed through her in warm, gentle waves.

His strong, steady arms tightened around her shoulders and he dipped his head to brush her forehead with a soft kiss.

“Please don’t leave me again,” she implored quietly.

Suddenly, his body stiffened and his arms fell to his sides, and he backed away from her.

“I’m sorry, Carol...” his voice was low and soft and faltering. His eyes were a dark swirl of fear and pain, his face contorted in confusion.

“What’s wrong– Doug?”

A dry, sharp odour had descended around them, and Carol’s eyes watered and stung fiercely. “What’s that smell? Something’s burning, Doug. I think something’s burning ...”

He looked down, closed his eyes, and shuddered. Smoke had accumulated and was thickening by the second, separating them. She gasped for breath, coughing, choking, gagging on the horrid smell.

Frantically, Carol pushed through the smoke, struggling to breathe.

“Doug!” her voice was muffled, distraught.

She searched for him, feeling her way, crying his name.

But he was gone. And she was suffocating.

“Doug!” She croaked one last time, and doubled over, choking, gasping, dying.

~*~*~*~

Carol realized, with a pang of relief, that she’d been dreaming, before she opened her eyes.

“Ugghh...” she groaned, shaking off the remnants of sleep. Her chest felt heavy and her brain was muddled.

There was a peculiar smell to the air in her bedroom...

With a startled shriek, she jumped out of bed, a stricken fear clamping down in her chest, and lifted her shirt over her mouth to filter out the thick smoke collecting in the room.

The house was on fire.

Through the haze, she could make out a few flames, flickering on the surface of her dresser and up one side of the drapes.

With shaking hands, she reached under the bed and grabbed the fire extinguisher and pulled the clasp.

A cloud of white foam erupted from the narrow canister, cloaking the dancing fire, fizzling as it engulfed it.

Taking a trembling breath, Carol sat back onto her bed. Her knees were shaking, and beads of sweat had begun to form at her temples.

“God...” she whispered as she realized what would have happened if she hadn’t awakened when she did.

On unsteady legs, she stood up and the empty fire extinguisher dropped to the floor.

The top of her dresser was charred an awful black, and what was left of her curtains was a drippy mess of burnt fabric on the floor.

Standing tall in the middle of it all was the candle. One side had melted down, causing little waves to form in the smooth wax, and the red emblem on the side had smudged, but it was still intact.

Shaking her head slowly, Carol lifted it up. ‘Maybe having a candle in her room wasn’t the greatest idea.’

She’d have to get the dresser repaired. Or maybe Doug could fix it when he got back. And they needed new drapes for that window anyway...

She glanced at the clock. 5:30 am.

Coughing lightly, she set the candle back down on the mildly charred dresser and went to start her day.

~*~*~*~

“Hey Carol, you’re late!” was the greeting waiting for her when she shuffled through the ambulance bay entrance later that morning.

“Its only ten after twelve, Kerry,” She retorted with a sigh, pulling off her gloves finger by finger.

“Then you’re ten minutes late. C’mon, you’re usually very punctual.”

Carol pursed her lips. She knew that the interrogation was only Kerry’s way of expressing her concern.

“Sorry, ok? I’ll stay late tonight.”

Kerry nodded, her tight lipped smile almost sympathetic beneath its accusatory nature, and Carol slipped off to the lounge to deposit her coat and shoulder bag.

“How are you, Carol?” Mark’s voice came from behind her suddenly as she shut her locker.

She jumped in surprise.

“God, Mark, you scared me.”

“Sorry. How are you?”

“I’m alright.” She smiled and straightened her scrubs. “Lucky to be alive, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Oh, nothing. It was stupid... little fire in my bedroom this morning. You know, I put my candle too close to the drapes and it ignited.” She shook her head and laughed a little.

“You’re ok though?” Mark asked, concern etching his voice.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” She wrapped her stethoscope around her neck and patted her hair. “Mark?”

“Uh huh?” He’d flopped down on the sofa and was flipping through the TV channels.

“Did Doug call this morning?”

“You mean, did he call here?”

Carol nodded and sat down beside him.

“No. Was he supposed to?”

“No...” she shook her head. “But he told me he’d call me at home, and he never did.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine. He probably just couldn’t get to a phone.”

“Right, I was just wondering if he’d called here instead.” She pulled her feet up underneath her and yawned. “Slow day?”

“Yeah, it is right now. I think Lucy’s got the only patient.”

“It’ll pick up by dinner time. It always does.”

“Thats why,” Mark stretched and propped his feet up on the small coffee table, “I’m taking advantage of the down time right *now*.”

Carol smiled. “I’m gonna go get some coffee from the Roach Coach. You want something?”

“Sure, yeah. Just get me the usual.”

“Two milks one sugar?” She verified.

“The only way I drink the stuff,” he grinned, and she shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked out of the doctor’s lounge.

“Hey, Jer?” She called to the desk clerk.

He looked up from his ‘Merchandising of Munitions’ magazine. “Morning, Carol, what’s up?”

“Could you let me know if I get any calls?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded and went back to his magazine as Carol headed outside for the first coffee fix of the day.

___________________________________________________________________

The thick stone walls were cold and damp and dripping, giving the cell the likeness of a small cave.

On the hardest of cots, his back pressed against the boggy wall, Doug Ross sat, lost in a pool of memories. With no heat or fire or blankets, the underground prison was cold, and it left the inmates shivering in dampness. Every time a chill crept up his spine, Doug let a recollection of Carol creep into his mind’s eye, and it warmed him to some degree.

At that moment, she was dancing with him, on New Years eve. Most of the ER staff had crowded into their house, bringing with them throngs of alcohol and food and music. She’d been so relaxed that night, happy, her face flushed, her laughter ringing out distinctly as they danced and laughed away the last eve of 1998. Later, when their friends had stumbled their way into cabs, and they were left picking up empty beer bottles and mopping up unidentified liquids, he’d sighed with tired contentment and pulled her close.

“I want to spend the rest of my life like this, Carol,” he’d told her softly.

“You sure thats not the alcohol talking?” she had smiled.

“Absolutely sure,” he’d kissed her sweetly. “I love being here, with you.”

The satisfaction and contentment that shone in her eyes lasted for days after the party. Actually, the only time he’d seen it disappear was when he told her he was leaving for Kosovo.

He sighed heavily.

“Watcha thinkin ‘bout, Ross?”

He jerked his head up at the sound of Tony’s voice. His cell mate had his knees pulled up to his chin, his rust coloured hair matted to his forehead with cold, nervous sweat.

“Home,” Doug answered softly.

“Yeah, me too,” was Tony’s reply. “I can’t believe I’m never gonna see my little boy again.”

“Whats his name?”

“Byron. He’s 11. Just starting to grow up, you know? Starting to act like a little man.”

“We will get out of this, Ton,” Doug said, though he knew their situation was next to hopeless.

“He’s coming up to that time when a boy needs his father the most.” Tony shook his head sadly. “I wish I could be there. There was so much I wanted to teach him... how to tie a fly hook.... how to play the guitar, how to shave...” His voice wavered, and he breathed deeply.

“I know, man,” Doug said gently swallowing hard against his own fear. “We’ll get through this. I know.”

___________________________________________________________________

“Jerry, did–,”

“No, no calls yet Carol,” the desk clerk shrugged empathetically.

“Thanks,” Carol sighed lightly, feeling new threads of concern creep up her spine. Carefully, she went over the conversation they’d had the day before. He’d clearly told her that he’d have cell access, and that he’d call her at home, in the morning.

It was almost 4 o’clock.

With a shrouded shudder, she told herself that he’d been called away, or that the transmission hadn’t worked as he’d expected. She convinced herself that the fire had made her edgy and nervous, and that she was jumping to conclusions, letting her imagination run away from her.

But she couldn’t shake that wary, nervous feeling.

“Carol? Could you help me out?” Lucy’s young voice called to her from down the hallway.

Shaking her worry off with a shiver, she went to see what the med-student wanted.

“Can you stay and watch this guy’s vitals while I get some films up in radiology?”

“Is he conscious?” Carol ran a hand through her hair and looked in the room. An thin, elderly man with white hair was lying motionless on the bed.

“No. Shouldn’t be much trouble.” Lucy smiled. “He’s in insulin shock, so I don’t want to take a chance. He may wake up any time.”

“Alright, go get your films” she agreed and stepped into the small exam room. The monitors were all beeping steadily.

She checked his chart, smoothed the sheets and patted the man’s hand.

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Robinson.” she said softly, sitting back in a hard plastic chair. “We’ll get your glucose level back up.”

The even, constant rhythm of the heart monitor in the otherwise quiet room set Carol’s mind into a lulled trance as she sat watching the old man. Her concern for Doug settled at the front of her thoughts, as images of him materialized into memories.

They’d been so happy, before he left for Kosovo, so content, talking of babies and marriage– and a future. She was anxious to start building their plans again, anxious to get past Kosovo and the war.

The last three weeks had been the longest of her life. She couldn’t imagine anything better than to have him beside her again. It surprised her, when she’d first realized this. That she’d become so dependant on him, on having him there, that when he wasn’t, she felt as if a part of her was missing. She felt misplaced and dejected, longing for his warmth next to her at night, aching for his gentle touch as they made love.

They’d become so close in that last year. Sharing a house meant sharing things about each other they never thought they would have. There had been a few days, on their holiday vacation, when they’d curled up by the fireplace with a blanket and a copy of Steel Magnolias. She’d slowly revealed to him the reasons for her devastating depression and the suicide attempt, and he, in turn, told her about his turmoil surrounding his father, and a few years back, when his life consisted of binge drinking and empty, casual sex. They’d laughed a little, and wept a lot, and in the end, watched Steel Magnolias more times than anyone ever should.

“What do you think of me now?” She’d asked him quietly after their long conversation. They were curled up on the sofa, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

“What do you mean?” He posed, tenderly stroking her soft curls.

“You know me better than anyone else, now. You know all of me, all the good stuff, all the bad stuff, all my secrets. Does it change the way you see me?” She was pleading with him for honesty. She’d never told anyone, not even her shrink, what she’d told him that day, and a striking apprehension had suddenly seized her.

“Carol...” Doug shook his head slowly, pulling her into a firm embrace, letting his chin rest on the top of her head. “ I love that you can finally show me everything about you. I love your good stuff and your bad stuff and all of your secrets. I love you more now than I ever did. I love you, Carol. All of you.”

“Doug...oh...” she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her head, lightly pressing her lips into his chin, weeping softly as he drew her mouth up to meet his in an emotional kiss. For the first time in her life she’d shed all of her inhibitions, and instead of the sneering detest she’d always expected, he’d enveloped her and comforted her. A warm, tingly feeling was working its way from her stomach to her fingers, and then down to her toes. And she knew, without a doubt, that she loved him completely

“Whats the matter, darlin?” A gentle voice pulled her from her wistful daydream.

Carol gasped and opened her eyes, feeling the hot tears streaming down her face.

“Mr. Robinson,” she croaked. “You’re awake... how are you feeling?”

“I’m a little tired, dear.” The old man smiled weakly. “Why are you crying?”

She wiped her face, embarrassed, and hopped up to adjust the man’s IV. “Just caught up in a memory...” she laughed, feeling foolish. “You know how it is...”

“I do, I do,” Mr. Robinson nodded slowly, reached out, and placed a frail hand on her arm. “It will be alright, dear. Everything will right itself in due time.”

Carol gazed at her elderly patient for a moment, then smiled pensively. “Yes, it will,” she agreed softly.

___________________________________________________________________

And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping.

___________________________________________________________________

“Do you hear that, Ton?” Doug sat up abruptly.

“Yeah,” his friend furrowed his brow. “Voices. You think they’re gonna feed us?”

“God, I hope so. I’m so hungry I could retch.”

“But there’s nothing to retch,” Tony grinned and Doug nodded with a shrug.

They could hear the sound of a metal gate opening and closing, and then the voices stopped.

A figure appeared in front of their cell, on the other side of the bars, cloaked in darkness.

The two inmates were so startled they couldn’t say a word

“Dr. Ross...?” A familiar, accented voice called through the bars.

“Vladimir?!” Doug stood up, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it is me.”

“What are you doing here, man?” He was laughing now, so grateful, thanking God... they would be saved.

“Come to the gate, Dr. Ross.” Vladimir instructed. His voice was strangely low and imperiling.

Doug walked to the iron bars and looked up at the tall Serbian man. “What’s going on, Vlad?”

“They think you tried to kidnap that little girl.”

“Anka.”

“Yes, Anka.”

“How is she?”

“She is fine. She was sent to live with her grandparents.”

Doug let out a low sigh of relief. “Tell them we didn’t kidnap her. Tell them we didn’t do it.”

“I cannot.”

“Why? You know I didn’t kidnap her, Vladimir. You know me.”

“I am vice- president of the Serbian headquarters that captured your brigade.”

“What?” Doug’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I am serious. I cannot let you go. I will be overruled and cast from the house of powers.”

Doug shook his head, trying to comprehend. “C’mon, Vladimir, you can’t let us go... ever? Just explain it to them...”

“I cannot. I... I did not know it was you when I sent out the orders. But I cannot set you free, now.”

“What will happen to us? Are we going to stay in this fuck-hole of a prison?” He was angry now.

“No,” Vladimir shook his head slowly. “No, you will not.” He turned away then, unable to look at him. “I will send you down some food.”

Doug took a shaky, trembling breath. “When– when will.... it be?”

“In a few days.”

He watched the Serbian business man walk briskly up the long, cold, dark hall. For the first time in his adult life, he was afraid for himself.

___________________________________________________________________

“So the maid bends down, poor dear, and the Johnson’s dog has his teeth set right firm in her bottom!” Mr. Robinson grinned wickedly as Carol doubled over in laughter. They’d been sitting, talking quietly for over an hour. The ER was still void of patients, and Carol was enjoying spending time with the interesting old man. He was taking her mind of Doug.

“Oh, God....” She giggled hoarsely, holding her side. “Mr. Robinson, you’re a riot.”

“Why thank you, darlin. I must say, you are a much better audience than my wife.”

“She doesn’t like your stories?”

“Oh, she’s heard them so many times in the past 50 years, she just shakes her head whenever I try to tell one!”

“You’ve been married for 50 years!” Carol exclaimed, smiling. “Thats amazing...”

“Aw, you don’t know Dorris,” his eyes grew soft and he fiddled with the edge of his bed sheet.

“She must be wonderful.”

“Oh, she is. She has to be to have put up with me for all these years. She’s a few years younger than me– fifteen almost. So she’s still up and about while...” he trailed off.

“Have you called her yet?”

“No. She’s gone to Springfield for a few days with her sisters. I don’t want to worry her.”

“You should still call her, Mr. Robinson. I’m sure she’d want to know.”

“Maybe when they haul me up to the renal unit. Maybe I’ll call her then.”

She nodded, and they both were quiet for a moment.

“Are you married, Carol?”

“Oh...no,” she shook her head. “I’m engaged.”

“What’s his name, dear?”

“Doug. He’s a pediatrician here at the hospital. He’s a really great doctor,” she smiled. “And... a really great man.”

“I’ll bet he’s the reason you were so upset earlier.”

Carol nodded and looked d down. “He’s away in Kosovo on a humanitarian effort. I just... miss him is all.”

“I’m sure he’ll have some wonderful stories of his own to share with you when he returns.”

“I know. I’m just a little worried. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I never knew that you could love someone so much it physically hurt to be apart from them. I’m so in love with him...”

Mr. Robinson smiled in understanding. “Then I’m sure he’s fine. If your love is that strong.... nothing can pull you two apart.”

“Thank you, Mr. Robinson,” she said softly, bowing her head in quiet reverence.

___________________________________________________________________

When night fell, in the Serbian prison, the darkness was suffocating. It clung to everything like a thick, blinding tar. Not even moonlight could reach the tiny cell. The only narrow window had been stuffed with straw, and the ventilation was poor, causing a foul odour to percolate within the room.

Both men lay motionless on their wooden cots, too terrified too sleep, too uneasy to talk, left only to think about their uncertain futures.

A sudden noise came from the left side of the room, where Doug was lying. It was a short, wavering gasp, soaked with fright and sorrow and regret. It took him a moment to realize that the noise came from his mouth. He tentatively reached up, discovering the cold, wetness streaming down his face. The sound came again, and he felt it quivering in his throat.

“Hey man, you hanging in there?” Tony’s voice came softly from the other side of the cell.

Doug swallowed and closed his eyes, feeling the hot tears pooled there. “I’m not ready to leave her...” he choked, his voice muffled. “Not now... not yet.”

“There’s still time, Ross. Something’s gotta give. It can’t end this easy.”

“I don’t see how...”

“That guy Vladimir, he’ll come through. He’s gotta come through.”

Doug shook his head and looked over, straining to see his friend through the heavy darkness. All he could make out was the faint glint of his eyes.

“I love her...” he admitted, speaking so quietly Tony had to strive to hear. “God... I love her. We were just starting to build a life together... trying for a baby. I think we were finally ready to get married.”

“Carol knows you love her.”

“She couldn’t know how I really feel about her... I– I never told her.” He could hear Tony’s deep breathing in the dark, and knew he was listening intently. “I mean, I told her that I loved her, all the time... but its more than that, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

“She saved me. If it wasn’t for her, I never would’ve gotten cleaned up and... and I couldn’t have survived like that much longer. It was either change my life or end it.”

“Because of her, you decided to change it.”

“Right. She’s my world. She’s the only reason I’ve got to be alive. I don’t think she knows that... and she should. She should know it.” He took a deep, shaking breath and let it out slowly. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Oh God, I should have told her.”

“I betcha she knows. I betcha she feels the same way.” Tony consoled.

“I’ll never get to tell her now...” he was caught up in his anguish and regret. Realizing his impending death so fully. “God... there’s so much I wanted to do. I– I wanted to have a baby with Carol. I wanted to be a daddy... I wanted a chance to do it right.”

“I’m gonna die a bastard. Just like my dad.”

With a sudden, violent movement, he leaped from his cot, kicking at it, kicking the wall, so angry.... so afraid.

“Goddamn this fucking war!” he was shouting, but it came out in strangled gasps. “Godammit to hell!”

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, quieting him, sharing in his anger, knowing his dread.

Shaking, exhausted, Doug heaved himself down onto the cot and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m not ready to leave her...” he repeated, so bitter, so quiet, barely audible.

___________________________________________________________________ Brush the hair out from my eyes
Read me a good story
Kiss my fingertips goodnight
Say that I can stay in your company
___________________________________________________________________

“Films are back!” Lucy’s cheerful voice rang out and both Carol and Mr. Robinson glanced up. The med-student had been back to check on her patient a few times since her first attempt at getting the films, but since radiology had been having malfunctions, the process was slow and the films had taken awhile.

“Are ya shipping me upstairs now?”

“We can send you up to the renal unit for dialysis as soon as I take some blood and get the results back.” Lucy smiled sympathetically. “Sorry its taking so long.”

“Ah, no need to apologize. The lovely Nurse Hathaway is keeping me entertained.”

The med-student laughed lightly and looked to her. “Thanks, Carol.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” she glanced at Mr. Robinson. He winked, his papery skin creasing and wrinkling in deep lines as he did.

Lucy reached into the tray she’d brought and found a pair of gloves and a syringe.

“Here, I’ll do it,” Carol offered, getting up.

“Are you sure? I’m not busy....”

“No, no, I’ll send it up with someone later.” She took the gloves and started to pull them on.

“Ok then.” Lucy smiled brightly, turning to leave. “See you later, Mr. Robinson.”

Carol prepared the syringe and tied a rubber elastic around his upper arm. She got an antiseptic swab, then carefully wiped it over the thin, frail skin in the crook of his arm.

“Whoo, thats mighty cold,” Mr. Robinson laughed.

“Sorry,” she smiled and dropped the cotton ball into the trash. “This may sting a little.” She gently slid the needle under his skin and watched with satisfaction as the red blood filled the vile.

“You’re very good at that,” he told her, smiling gently as he observed. “I barely felt it.”

“Well,” she blushed. “I do try.”

“You’re an excellent nurse, Carol. Thank you for keeping me company.” He reached up and cupped the side of her face affectionately.

“You’re very welcome.” She placed her hand on top of his.

“Will you get me my bag, dear? Its under the bed, if I remember correctly.”

“Of course,” she reached under and pulled out the clear plastic bag his belongings had been stored in, and placed it on his lap.

He reached in and took out his pants, then, fiddling around in the pocket, he withdrew a small gold locket. “I want you to have this,” he said, placing it in her hand.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she shook her head, examining the ornately defined filligraphy in the beautiful piece of jewelry.

“It was my daughter’s. She died a few years ago... breast cancer. You remind me of her.” He smiled, a hint of sadness present. “Please, I want you to have it.”

“Mr. Robinson, I can’t–,”

“Please.” They gentle pleading in his eyes touched her deeply and she smiled.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Thank you... its very beautiful.”

“Keep it next to your heart,” he said earnestly.

She nodded and placed her hand lightly on her chest, suddenly overcome.

___________________________________________________________________

Sleep was something very distant for Doug and Tony that night. They were getting accustomed to the cold and the dampness of the small cell, but the aching dread was still very present, and it kept them hovering above the relief of slumber.

A few hours before dawn, when haunting images danced in his mind and the stealthy silence threatened to undo him, Doug sat up.

Something was different. Something in the air was wrong....

“Do you smell that, Tony?” He asked, knowing his friend wouldn’t be sleeping.

“Smells like my ex-wife’s cooking.” Tony grumbled.

“Uh huh. Like something’s burning...”

“Maybe those Serb guards tried to make dinner.”

“No, I’m serious. I think something’s on fire.”

It was no sooner than he’d spoken those words, that a flashlight beam cut through the darkness of their cell from outside the iron bars, in the hall.

“Dr. Ross?”

Doug was at the gate in an instant, facing Vladimir, who was wielding three flashlights.

“What’s happening, Vlad? What is this?”

“The prison is on fire.”

“What? How did the–,”

“I cannot tell you that.” There was a sparkle in his dark eyes that told Doug he had been wrong to doubt the Serbian man.

“Ok– ok, how do we get out?”

“I have got keys. We must hurry.” He held up a ring of keys and swiftly unlocked the gate. “The rest of the management and the guards have evacuated. When we are outside, you must slip around back and run low through the town until you get to Albanian land. Then you will be safe.” He explained this as the three men slipped through the long hallway, watching the other prisoners in their cells with pity.

“What about them?” Tony asked.

Vladimir shook his head. “There is no time. I am sorry.”

They hurried through the hall and up a long, narrow flight of stairs. As they ascended, the smoke grew dramatically thicker, and they were forced to pull their shirts over their mouths.

“Where’s the door to this Goddamned place?” Doug shouted as the reached the top of the staircase.

“Just through the next hallway.” Vlad pointed as he led them through the catacomb of doors rooms and halls. “This way!”

They could see bright flames licking at the edges of the doors, smoke billowing out in heavy black clouds.

Vladimir stopped cold. Their exit was engorged with tall, bright flames, crackling wickedly, burning right through the wooden beams of the ceiling.

“Turn back! We cannot go through here!” he shouted, and the three men obliged. The smoked was so thick they could barely see their hands in front of their faces. The heat was suffocating, like being in an oven.

“Where are we going?” Doug asked, adrenaline pumping, his heart pounding.

“There’s a window here somewhere. We can get through, but we must hurry.” Each of them knew that it would not be long before the building collapsed on itself.

The whole place was in flames. The crackling and hissing of the fire was so loud in Doug’s ears he was sure the ceiling would crumble and crush them any second.

On a far wall, over top of a smoldering desk, there was a small window, just big enough to fit the width of a man.

“We must move the desk!” Vlad instructed, and the men grabbed the piece of furniture, quickly hauling it aside.

Doug pulled the latch on the window and tried to lift it open. It was locked.

“You got a key?” He shouted to the Serbian. He shook his head, his eyes wide with panic.

“No problem,” Doug broke a leg off a chair and smashed it through the window. The glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, falling around them, onto the desk, onto the floor. Furls of dense smoke tumbled out of the window, blocking any fresh air that could have been let in.

“Vlad, you first,” he ushered the man to the window, and then helped him hoist himself through it, feet first, then knees, until he was hanging on to the ledge, only his face and arms in the burning building.

Their gazes met, for an instant, where Doug’s gratitude and respect for the man was revealed. Vladimir Zobak offered a weak smile, and disappeared through the small window.

“Ok Ton, your turn.”

“After you, Ross.” Tony grinned. They were both surrounded by smoke now, the thick cloud cloaking the inside of their lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“No, Tony.... c’mon.” He nodded in the direction of the window. “Hurry up, this place isn’t gonna stay standing for long.”

Suddenly, a ear-splitting crack was heard, and a thick, fire-soaked ceiling beam came crashing down on them, sending burning debris and sparks flying everywhere.

When the dust cleared, and the smoke thinned out, Doug was left standing, but Tony was on the ground.

“Whoa, man...” Doug rushed to him. The beam was on his legs, crushing him. He wrapped his arms around the plank, pulling and heaving with all his might, the burning log scorching the flesh of his hands. It wouldn’t budge.

“Go,” Tony huffed through clenched teeth.

Doug shook his head, breathing hard, coughing and choking in the smoke. “Just gimme a sec.” He gasped. “I can move this.”

“Go!” Tony winced and turned his head, his eyes closed, in immense pain.

“No, its coming, its coming!” He encouraged, as the beam moved a fraction of an inch.

His friend reached up, slowly and placed a hand on Doug’s arm. “Go on. Carol’s waiting.”

With that, the whole structure of the building seemed to fall apart, beams and wall planks falling, burning and sizzling, the condemning hissing sounds of fire all around them.

Another thick beam fell in front of the window, blocking their only escape. Doug looked to Tony, dread clutching at him feverishly.

The moment seemed to freeze as the ash and debris fell around the two men. All he could feel was the scorching heat licking at his body, and the wild pounding of his heart in his chest. His whole being was tingling, his head fuzzy.

An image of Carol flashed through his mind. She was sitting at their kitchen table, laughing wildly, her head tilted back gracefully, her hair flowing over her shoulders, her neck exposed, her eyes shining.

“I’m sorry, Carol...” he whispered, looking up into the burning rafters as the image became hazy, and dissolved.

___________________________________________________________________

You have always been my friend
I can see your beauty shining
I will love you ‘til the end
Long will I remain...
In your keeping

___________________________________________________________________

“Where’d Jerry go?” Carol leaned over the admit desk to talk to Randi.

“He left an hour ago.”

“Oh. Well, has there been–,”

“And he told me to tell you that you haven’t had any calls.”

She sighed. “Ok. Any patients yet?”

“Just that same diabetic in 2.”

“Yeah, he’s waiting on transport. Can you call them again?”

Randi popped her gum and handed her the phone. “You don’t look very busy.”

Carol rolled her eyes and dialed the transport unit.

When they’d promised, for the 5th time, that they’d be right down, she took off towards the lounge.

“Hey, you still here?” She was surprised to see Mark sprawled on the sofa, reading a magazine.

“Pulling a double.” He sat up to make room for her.

She nodded knowingly and relaxed into the corner of the little love seat. Two hours of sitting in a hard plastic chair had left her back aching and her feet numb.

“Did you hear from Doug yet?”

Carol shook her head. “I’m sure he’s just busy,” she said softly. *So why was her stomach doing somersaults?*

“Right, thats right. You know how he gets.”

She smiled, almost wistfully. “So focused.”

Mark grinned knowingly. “How’s your patient.”

“Mr. Robinson? His blood sugar’s still pretty low, and his kidneys are failing. Its taking forever to get him upstairs, and he needs dialysis.”

“Did anyone call his wife yet?”

“No,” she said. “He doesn’t want her to worry.” Carol tilted her head, thinking. “They’ve been married for fifty years. I can’t help feeling she’d want to know. That she’d want to be there for him.”

“She’ll find out soon enough.”

“Yeah, soon enough.” she nodded slowly. “Have you seen Elizabeth today?” she changed the subject.

“Yeah, I saw her this morning. She’s coming down to meet me for dinner in a half hour.”

“You two are getting pretty close lately.”

Mark’s cheeks flushed a deep rose and he grinned bashfully. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Sure, sure...” Carol shrugged, smirking wickedly.

Mark pummeled her with a throw pillow and stood up, stretching, as she laughed. “God, I love slow days...”

She nodded her agreement and breathed in deeply, feeling her chest rattle slightly as her lungs swelled with the fresh oxygen; a subtle reminder of the morning’s unusual event.

“Carol, Mark, paramedics are coming in with a GSW, ETA 2 minutes.” Conni announced, poking her head into the lounge.

Carol stood up and smiled at Mark. “So much for slow days.”

~*~*~*~

“There’s sill no rhythm,” she told Mark, who had the paddles pressed to the man’s chest, perspiration furiously dripping down his face. They’d been working for more than 20 minutes, without change.

“Alright, one more time and I’m calling it.” He declared, and waited until Connie had the defibrullator charged. Then, with a resounding “Clear!” he shocked the man again. As expected, the green line on the monitor remained flat, and the droning buzz penetrated all other sound, solid and monotonous.

“That’s it,” Mark looked up at the clock. “Time of death 17: 34.”

With that, the latex gloves began to snap off and fall to the floor, the monitors were unhooked, and the trauma team started to dissipate.

“Coming through!” Lucy’s dulcet voice shouted as she and a nurse pulled a gurney into the empty trauma 2. The staff immediately perked up and followed her.

“What’s this?” Mark asked.

“My patient, 80 year old diabetic with an arrhythmia. He’s tachy at 180.”

“Mr. Robinson?” Carol called through the rising noise, hurrying to his side.

“Carol... she says there’s something wrong with my heart....” He was flat on his back, worry etched into his wrinkled brow.

“Don’t worry,” she soothed, taking his hand. “Its only an arrhythmia. Your heart is beating a little more irregularly than it should be, so we’re gonna give you some atropine to even it out.”

“Can you call me wife, dear? The number is in the pocket of my shirt, in the bag.”

“Of course I can.” Carol nodded. “Right now?”

“Please...” Mr. Robinson implored, clutching her hand.

“Alright, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll call her.” She patted his hand and smiled reassuringly. She pulled away to go find the number.

“Hey, Carol!” Randi called loudly from admit. “Call for you on line two. Its long distance.”

In one, long sigh, all the worry and concern she’d accumulated during the day flooded out, and she felt a small smile being pulled onto her lips.

She looked to Mr. Robinson.

“Go, dear. Go talk to him,” he urged her, forgetting his own distress for a moment.

“Connie, will you call Mr. Robinson’s wife? The number’s in the bag in exam 2!”

The nurse nodded, and Carol rushed to the admit desk, nearly tripping over a box of supplies in her haste.

She grabbed the phone from Randi.

“Doug?”

“Ms. Hathaway?”

It wasn’t Doug...

“This is Peter Thompson of the United Nations Department of Volunteer Doctors.”

Her breath caught in her throat and her blood ran cold...

“Yesterday afternoon a team of unidentified medical volunteers were captured by a Serbian troop.”

Her hands began to trembled violently, and she was having trouble holding the phone...

“We weren’t able to confirm that Dr. Ross had been kidnaped until today, when the prison they’d been held in was destroyed in a fire. Most of his team was found underground in the holding cells.”

A great pain shot through her stomach, and she almost doubled over, like someone had kicked her...

“They were identified by their dental prints. Dr. Ross’s body has not yet been found, but from accounts of the Serbian brigade and a witness, we have every reason to believe he did not survive the fire.”

The pressure in her head was so great her temples throbbed. She couldn’t breathe, or talk, or move...

“Ms. Hathaway?” She heard as the phone fell from her hands. “I’m very sorry.”

The phone crashed against the side of the admit desk loudly, leaving it swaying from side to side. Randi looked up from her magazine, and Mark, who was walking from the trauma room, quickened his pace upon seeing Carol.

All at once her knees buckled, and she was falling. Blindly reaching out, she caught the end of the desk, and steadied herself for a moment. Her breath was coming fast, her vision blurring, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

*Oh God... he can’t be serious.... oh God... he’s wrong... oh God.... Doug... oh.... no, no, no...* Her thoughts were a mess, flying around in her head, pounding at her temples.

“Carol? What’s the matter... Carol?” Mark was beside her, grabbing her arm, holding her up.

She shook him off, feeling dizzy, and managed to push her way into the bathroom. Without looking up, she threw herself into a stall, and collapsed against the door.

Her head hit the cold metal, and for a moment, her thought were stilled. Then, in one wrenching motion, she doubled over, heaving and gagging, her stomach surging so violently, she was sure it would rip in two.

After what seemed like hours crumbled in front of the toilet on the cold hard floor, she lifted her head. Perspiration had collected at her temples, her hair was matted, her throat stinging. She flushed the toilet and leaned back against the stall. Pulling her shaking knees up to her chin, she yanked a handful of toilet paper off the roll, balling it up and wiping her face.

“...He did not survive the fire.... I’m very sorry....”

The words screamed in her mind, over and over, senseless words, meaning nothing to her, so unreasonable in their bluntness that they couldn’t possibly be true.

But the more she thought about it, the more her head cleared and her stomach stopped churning– the more those words seemed to identify themselves.

He hadn’t called her...

He *always* called her when he said he would.

“He’s gone...” a voice from deep within her said softly. “He’s gone...”

With a shaking, shrill cry, a sob ripped out of her– so desolate, so raw and shocked and scared.

And then she was crying, weeping, gasping, breathless and harried, trying to grasp the awful truth she was being confronted with.

“Please, please, please...” She begged hoarsely, pleading with reality, offering anything she had to have verity reversed, to change the unimaginable fact that she’d lost the one thing that mattered most in the world.

“Carol... whats wrong...? Please, let me in...” Elizabeth’s graceful, accented voice drifted into her stall, erupting her compulsive sobbing. Finding that it wasn’t locked, the British doctor pushed the door open. It swung open only halfway, catching against Carol’s feet. She managed to squeeze through, and immediately crouched down, taking both of the nurse’s trembling hands in her own, peering at her with ample concern.

“Oh Elizabeth...” Carol hung her head, her cries ceasing, her shoulders shaking with the wait of her knowledge and the force of her silent sobs. Tears continued to slide down her face, falling onto her scrub jacket. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away. “Its over,” she whispered, looking up at Elizabeth. “Its all over.”

___________________________________________________________________

And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping

___________________________________________________________________

Mark had insisted on driving her home that night. He’d asked to come in, when they pulled up in front of her house, and she’d let him, knowing his need to talk, though all she wanted to do was fall into a dreamless, medicated sleep.

“Carol,” he said, his voice low and sorrowful, when she set a cup of coffee in front of him at the kitchen table. “I’m so sorry.” he shook his head. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

She sighed and took a seat across from him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Mark.” She looked up, tears glistening on her eyelashes. “I’m so afraid. What am I going to do without him?”

Mark said nothing, but stared into his coffee cup. He’d lost his best friend, but she’d lost much more. He was worried about her, and he wanted to help, but he didn’t know what to say.

“We were just starting to make a life together. We were doing so well.” Her voice was choked with pain. “Why did this happen? To him? Why now?”

“I don’t know, Carol.” Mark shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, fighting the tears stinging his eyelids. “I don’t know.”

~*~*~*~

“I’ll come over on my way to the hospital tomorrow,” Mark told her, standing up. They’d talked quietly for a half hour, until Carol told him she was tired, and wanted to head to bed.

“You don’t have to, Mark.” She shook her head and stood up beside him.

“I know.” He pulled her to him, unexpectedly, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders. “Its gonna be ok, you know. We’ll get through this.”

She closed her eyes, wishing he would leave. It would never be ok. He was never coming home. Nothing would ever be right again.

He kissed her forehead and pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled sadly, and left.

She picked up his empty coffee mug and placed it in the sink. Her big, white and red candle was sitting on the counter. It looked so strange, standing there unlit, tall and thick, after weeks of being burning 24 hours a day. Carol sighed. It wielded a sort of power over her. She knew it was worthless now, that it would never bring Doug back, but it still called to her, begging to have a beautiful red flame dancing on its wick.

There was still something in her that believed it would lessen the pain in her soul, like it had done so many nights before. But this pain was different. Where loneliness and concern had been, a new kind of sour grief was dwelling.

Finding a match, she lit the candle, and stepped back to watch it burn.

There it was. That flicker of hope. That flash of warmth she always felt when she was near the candle.

Carol closed her eyes, willing the feeling to stay. But it soon drifted away, and she was left feeling hollow and heartbroken.

On her way to the bedroom, she stopped in the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she almost gasped. Her hair was a tangled mess, her mascara was pooled underneath her eyes in two dark smudges, her face paler than usual, her lips dry and bleeding from throwing up.

When she went to grab the washcloth, she noticed the objects standing on the vanity, at the edge of the sink.

His shaving cream and razors.

Oh God.

Carol blinked and two glistening tears rolled down her face.

In a daze, she walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

“If your love is that strong.... nothing can pull you two apart...”

Mr. Robinson’s words came rushing back to her, and she shook her head at the lie. Suddenly remembering the locket buried in her pocket, she reached in it and pulled the small piece of jewelry out.

Biting her lip, she pulled it open. There was no picture, but a small inscription on the inside.

Love will never come to an end
– I Corinthians; 7

Closing her fist around the locket, Carol fell back onto the bed she’d once shared with Doug Ross, crying bitterly, calling out for him in desperate supplication.

___________________________________________________________________

Tell me I will never die
Take away my pain
Rock me gently in your arms

While I am peacefully sleeping....

___________________________________________________________________



Part 4
Fanfiction Home