Title: Happy Golden Days of Yore (JC/SL)
Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda yadda . . .
Spoilers: Oh, definitely. Through "Quo Vadis," anyway. Also, in the flashbacks, the details may be *slightly* off, since I don't have copies of season 1 at my side - and since I made them up, hehe.
Summary: Flashbacks of a relationship a long time in the making . . .
Song: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"
Rating: I'll give it a PG for good humor, plus major sappiness :)
Note: There's references to episodes like "24 Hours", "The Gift", and "If I Should Fall From Grace", but I made the scenes up. They're presumed to have happened offscreen - it's simpler that way, and frankly, more fun.
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The orange flames licked the sides of the stone fireplace eagerly. A breeze from a nearby open window fluctuated the flames ever so often with each slight gust - staccato, lapping, fluttering, swirling, pat pat pat, steady. The logs under the fire were slowly turning black as they burned, and every so often a definite *pop* could be heard from the fireplace.
The heat radiated onto Susan's face and flushed her cheeks. She drew the woolen blanket around her more tightly, covering her thawing nose slightly from the warmth of the fire. The flames were dancing in front of her, held safely behind the fancy iron gate. Suddenly one flame poked through the gate, and another soon followed. Susan irritably picked up the iron poker next to her and shoved the log back a few inches. The delicate configuration of the logs rapidly tumbled, unleashing a flurry of wild orange sparks. The flames leapt back indignantly, then settled into their new surrounding and began to flicker once again.
Susan put the poker down and drew her toes underneath the blanket. It was a unique Christmas, to say the least . . .
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Have yourself a Merry little Christmas
Let your hearts be light
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"Dr. Lewis?"
Susan's ears perked up at the mention of her name, but she didn't move her eyes from the chart she was studying at the Admit desk. "That's me," she said distractedly, tracing her fingers down the words on the paper.
"I don't know if you know me . . . I'm Dr. Benton's new student . . . 2nd year -"
"Yeah, I think so," Susan said, finally looking up from the chart. In front of her was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, sharply dressed but somehow out of place. The confused, vague fear in his eyes confirmed that he was a med student. "You're Peter's student . . ."
The young man looked confused. "Peter? Have I met him yet?"
Susan smiled and put her chart into the rack. "Peter Benton, your resident."
He nodded with enthusiastic relief. "Yes, right, Dr. Benton, of course," he stammered, and to Susan it sounded like he was reprimanding himself. "Speaking of Dr. Benton, have you seen him around?"
"Not since I saw him with you," Susan told him as she erased her name from the chart. "Lost already?"
"Not anymore. I found my way to the OR and back." He sounded proud of himself.
Susan gave him a tired smile. "Congratulations. You've mastered what it takes most of us several weeks - finding out how the hell to get around this place."
The student nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "All I have to do is figure out which one is Curtain 1 and which one is Exam 1, and I think I'll be all right with the geography. After my ER rotation I probably won't be going anywhere else than the Surgical Floor, anyway."
Susan chuckled. "Your idealism is admirable," she told him, rounding the corner of the Admit desk and heading down the hall. "Everyone goes everywhere in this place. Surgeons go to Radiology, Radiologists go to Surgery, and ER docs go . . . well, we go to Psych."
The student nodded and followed her down the hall too quickly. "Radiology - where's that?" he asked.
"You've got to save something for tomorrow," Susan informed him, turning the corner and opening the door to the lounge. "Over-achieving makes the look of us look bad, Dr - or, um, Mr. . . . um . . ."
"Oh, it's Carter - I mean John, John Carter," he stammered, then nervously held out a hand. "John Carter."
Susan shook his hand sheepishly. "Don't feel bad, I'm awful with everyone's names," she admitted. "It's really not just you -"
John nodded quickly. "No hard feelings," he assured her, shaking her hand vigorously.
Susan smiled, then turned around and stepped into the lounge. She walked to her lockers but gestured to the man on the couch, who was watching TV. "See, ask this guy here," she teased to Carter. "I've known him for God knows how long and I barely know his name. Mike, or Mork, or Max . . ."
The doctor on the couch chuckled but didn't take his eyes off the basketball game on TV. "Just because you're not considerate enough to learn the Med students' names doesn't mean you have to butcher mine," he informed her. He turned his head around to face John. "It's Mark, by the way, no matter what she tells you. Mark Greene. I think we met earlier . . ."
John nodded, and was about to comment when Susan broke in. "I *am* learning the Med students' names," she told Mark defensively. "See, this is John Carter. He's Dr. Benton's new student." John merely smiled from the doorway, looking pleased to simply be involved in the conversation.
"I knew that," Mark replied, finally looking up as the game flashed to a commercial. "*I* pay attention when I meet people." He stood up from the couch and made his way to the fridge. "How do you like working with Peter so far, Carter?"
"Oh, he's . . . uh . . ." John scratched his head, slightly taken aback at being included in the conversation. "He's very dedicated."
"That's one way to put it," Susan commented from her locker.
"Well, I mean, it seems pretty fast paced around here anyway," John hastily added. "I can certainly understand it if he happens to lose track of me one in a -"
"Aw, damn it, someone stole my yogurt," Mark complained from the fridge. "These people have no respect for personal property!"
Susan reached to the back of her locker and pulled out her purse. "You should have labeled it," she reprimanded. "The nurses are pretty vicious about unclaimed food in there."
"I did label it!" Mark whined.
"But, uh, yeah, Dr. Benton just seems a little busy from time to time, is all," John continued, still standing in the doorway. "I think once we get to know each other, our dynamic -"
"Aha, problem solved, there's a soda in here that I'll take," Mark reported from the fridge.
"Hey no, that's mine!" Susan cried indignantly.
"Should have labeled it," Mark told her smugly, popping the top and taking a long gulp.
"I *did* label it!" Susan exclaimed, walking over and punching him playfully.
"Injustice is a bitch," Mark informed her, taking another sip and holding it out of her reach. "Sometimes the innocent ones are the ones to suffer."
"Ugh!" Susan cried, grabbing him around the middle to get the soda away from him. "You're such a jerk!"
"Look, I don't make the rules, I merely enforce them," Mark told her with a teasing grin. Suddenly the commercial on the TV ended and he plopped back onto the couch. "Now go, get out of here, go on your hot date with what's- his-name," he instructed her, sipping the soda triumphantly.
Susan blushed. "It's neither hot nor a date," she corrected him. "It's just dinner."
"Sounds intriguing," Mark called out, obviously absorbed in the game. "Go."
Susan rolled her eyes and turned towards the door, where she saw Carter still standing, smiling from watching the scene in front of him. "Sorry about that," she told him softly, shooting a glare at Mark. "You'll find that not all of the doctors here are saints."
"Oh, no, that's all right," he told her rapidly. Susan could see that he felt out of place. "So . . . you don't know where Dr. Benton might be?"
"OR is my best guess," Susan told him, slinging her purse onto her shoulder. "But you said you'd already been up there. Mark, any idea where Peter might be?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Mark called from the couch.
"You don't need to report to him if you're off, you know," Susan told Carter.
"No, I just had a question about a patient," Carter told her meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where did you say Radiology is?"
"Actually, I think Benton's in surgery," Mark called out suddenly.
Susan rolled her eyes. "And you didn't tell me that before, why exactly?" she asked.
"Just remembered," Mark told her, turning back to the TV.
"Oh, uh, ok then," Carter said uncertainly. "How do I get up to the OR in less than the two hours it took me last time?"
Susan sighed. "What's wrong with the patient?" she asked.
"I'm not sure - I'm having trouble doing the work-up," Carter admitted.
Susan sighed once again, checked her watch indifferently, then put her purse down on the table. "Where's the patient?" she asked as she walked out of the lounge.
"Oh, no no no, really, Dr. Lewis, that's all right," Carter said quickly, hurrying after her. "I don't want you to cancel your plans on my behalf -"
"No, it's fine," she told him sincerely. "Really."
Carter looked at her gratefully. "Curtain 3 - if I can remember where that is," he told her. On the way they passed a vending machine, and quickly he offered "Hey, let me buy you a soda, at least."
Susan chuckled. "That's all right," she said, turning around to face him.
"No, it's the least I can do," Carter insisted, fishing a few quarters out of his pocket. "After all, Dr. . . uh . . ."
"Dr. Lewis," Susan provided with a smile.
"No, the other one - Dr. Greene. After Dr. Greene stole your soda and all, I can at least make it up to you."
Susan smiled. "That's really ok," she told him, then leaned in closer and whispered "I'm the one who stole his yogurt." Carter stared at her incredulously, and Susan laughed. "Now come on, let's find this patient of yours . . ."
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From now on, our troubles will be out of sight
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The snow was falling heavily outside the window. The porch light illuminated the snowflakes so that they looked even whiter against the dark sky - a blanket of white falling onto a black canvas. Carter was transfixed with the image as he mechanically stirred the cocoa in the saucepan.
He should be with her tonight.
Carter shook his head, wishing he could get the guilt out of his mind. One stupid conversation was enough to ruin Christmas for the both of them. One stupid comment - one stupid comment that she had taken a little too personally, in his opinion - and this "joyous" time was not so joyous anymore. But he would be lying if he admitted that he'd rather be with her this Christmas. This really was the best decision, right? Not every Christmas has to be a scene from a Courier and Ives portrait - to quote one of his nastier points in the argument.
Slowly Carter stirred some cinnamon into the saucepan. The smell of this cocoa brought him back to his childhood, back to a time when a white Christmas meant no school, sledding, and snowmen that looked conspicuously like his grandfather.
None of *these* complications, anyway. Who the hell said that Christmas was supposed to be easy, or fun, or merry even? Carter shook his head again and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. Whoever decided that Christmas was supposed to be anything but another complicated ordeal was kidding themselves.
But he'd be lying if he said he wanted to take it back. This really was how he wanted to spend Christmas, and that's exactly what he'd said to her. When she should have been more than understanding, she became cruel in her insults, and as Carter turned the heat off from under the saucepan, he realized that guilt was a part of any good holiday. But hell, it was true - this was how he wanted to spend Christmas. If she really understood him, then she'd understand . . .
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Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
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Carter leafed through the catalog, becoming increasingly frustrated with this whole concept of Secret Santas. What had started out as a great opportunity had become a recurring nightmare - everywhere he looked, he saw potential presents and horrible presents. He could give anything to her, really, and he knew that she'd give him that smile and maybe even a hug.
He'd only been in the ER for four months, and he already knew that smile. God. It made him weak at the knees just think about it.
But enough of that. Carter shook his head and concentrated on the catalog. Crystal vases, diamond studded gloves, fur coats - all definitively too extravagant for such an occasion. He didn't want her to know how he really felt, after all . . . well, maybe on some level, he did . . . but if she managed to get a small hint from a perfect present, well then, he couldn't be to blame . . .
Carter flipped the page and grinned at the prospect of getting lacy lingerie for her. *That* would get the point across.
Just then the door to the lounge opened and she walked in. Carter's heart leapt in his throat as he grabbed the catalog, looked around frantically, and stuffed it into his back pocket. "Dr. Lewis," he greeted her cordially, standing up.
She glanced at Carter and smiled. "If you call me that again," she teased, pouring herself a cup of coffee, "then I'm not going to answer you."
Carter smiled too widely. "Susan, sorry, Susan, hello Susan," he corrected himself. "Busy day?"
"The worst." She sipped her coffee and plopped onto the couch. "I'll spare you the gory details."
"Oh, no, no no, if you need to vent then I'm here," he told her sympathetically. He was too tense to sit down again.
Susan sighed, then looked at Carter contemplatively. "All right, well, basically Div has been acting strangely recently. I can't get through to him - I don't even know what he's thinking any more." It was a good thing she was looking into her coffee cup, otherwise she would have seen Carter's face fall with disappointment. "I mean, today he comes up to me and is acting completely fine, and then ten minutes later he's screaming at me about some patient that isn't even mine. It's getting to be too much, I don't know . . ."
Crestfallen, Carter finally sat down in the chair at the table. "I'm sorry," he offered. He was never sure how to react when she complained about Div. "What are you going to do?"
Susan shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. "Damned if I know," she commented.
The room was silent. Forcing himself to be cheery and to change the subject, Carter asked "So, I've got a question for you."
Susan smiled at him weakly. "Shoot."
"I'm trying to buy a present for this woman," he began, unable to meet Susan's eye as he spoke. "What would, say, *you* want for Christmas - just so I can get an idea."
She stared at him blankly. "Is this for the ER Secret Santa exchange?"
Carter nodded before he realized that he would have been better off lying about it.
"Well, who do you have?" she asked, sipping her coffee.
"I . . . can't tell you that," Carter told her quickly. "All I need to know is -"
"Oh, come on, wait a minute," Susan interrupted as she sat up on the couch. "Just tell me who you have!"
"That's not important," Carter told her hastily. "Besides, the whole point of the Secret Santa is to keep it a secret."
"No one keeps it a secret," Susan scoffed, setting her mug on the table. "It's tradition - we all promise we'll never tell, and then three hours later everyone knows who everyone has."
"Well, I intend to play by the rules," Carter sniffed, praying she'd stop prying. He really was a terrible liar.
Susan was quiet as a smile grew on her face. "You have me, don't you?"
"No!" Carter exclaimed quickly. "I have . . . erm . . . Carol."
"You have me?" Carol asked, entering the lounge behind them. Silently Carter cursed whatever power was making this nightmare into reality. "You have me what?"
"He's your Secret Santa," Susan confided.
"Ohh." Carol nodded in understanding. "Hell, I'll tell you what I want right now, saves me the trouble of returning it."
"No-o, I don't have *that* Carol," Carter sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "I have the *other* Carol."
"There's no other Carol in the ER," Carol told him.
Susan grinned mischievously. "I bet I know what's going on."
Carter stared at her in horror.
"Carter picked someone he wants to go out with," Susan continued. "And he doesn't want us to know who it is."
"Aw, how cute!" Carol exclaimed. "Come on, tell us! We know everyone anyway, I can tell you if she's seeing anyone -"
"No, that's all right," Carter interrupted frantically.
"No, seriously, if you want me to match you two up, I'll do it," Carol offered honestly. "Just tell me who it is!"
"That's not the case at all," Carter argued. He was well aware that his face was turning beet red - it was like an interrogation in a 7th grade gym class, except instead of a group of adolescent boys, it was grown women harassing him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how much worse *that* was.
"No, come on, let's ease up on him," Susan told Carol. "If he doesn't want to tell us, then he doesn't have to."
"Thank you," Carter told her gratefully. He cleared his throat, and said "Now, I was thinking about something simple, like diamond -"
Just then her pager beeped, and she groaned in exasperation. "Damn it, I never get a break around here," she sighed, easing up from the couch and heading to the lounge door.
"Have fun," Carol offered, and Carter nodded his agreement.
"I surely will," Susan muttered, but before she opened the door to the hall she added "Don't give her diamonds."
It took Carter a moment to clue in. "Diamonds?"
"It's too presumptuous," she told him. "It's just a Secret Santa gift, after all. She'll think you're trying to jump into bed with her."
Carter looked at her strangely. "Duly noted," he commented, wondering exactly how much she knew.
"Or she'll think that you're an obsessive psycho," Susan added helpfully. "But that's only if the diamonds are real."
"Well, what if they're fake?" Carter asked.
"Then you're just cheap," Carol told him, and Susan nodded in agreement. "Not a good quality in a prospective boyfriend, either."
Susan's pager beeped again, and she groaned. "See you later," she sighed, leaving the lounge.
As soon as the door shut behind her Carter let out a deep breath. "So, no diamonds," he finally said.
"You'd seriously get someone diamonds for the Secret Santa exchange?" Carol asked skeptically. "You know you're supposed to spend a limit of like 20 bucks, right?"
"Well, I was thinking of getting this person something expensive for Christmas, anyway," Carter rationalized. "Besides, money isn't an issue."
Carol looked at him for a moment. "Get her something that you know she'll like," she told him. "If you have feelings for her, then you probably already know what she would want. Try something pretty. Every woman likes pretty things." Carter nodded contemplatively, and Carol stood up to leave, but added "Even Susan."
Carter kept nodding, and didn't realize Carol's implication until she'd already left. Pretty things . . .
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From now on, our troubles will be miles away
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Susan stared wistfully into the fire and wondered what the hell she was doing here. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty for what had happened - it wasn't her fault, after all, it was Carter who had done most of the talking, anyway - but the events of the evening still gnawed at her conscience. *Technically,* she supposed, it was her fault. But only technically. Carter had made the final choice in the matter. He'd decided what he wanted to do today, and in a rather uncharacteristic display of emotions, had put his foot down. It gave Susan a little relief to know that she hadn't caused him to say the things he had said. It had been building up for a long time, Carter's tension had, and sooner or later something was bound to happen.
Or perhaps she was just rationalizing it. Carter really didn't need this kind of irritation in his life, and she didn't need to be the one to cause it.
But somehow, in an overly optimistic spirit, she knew - the romanticism of the holiday spirit always sparked her childish belief in miracles - she had every confidence that it all would work out. True, it made for a strange Christmas, what with the foul mood hanging in the air, but Christmas was a time of forgiveness, and love, and truth. Susan could spend Christmas like this - God only knew how many times she'd had to deal with crises, especially during the holidays - but she worried about Carter. He'd been through too much to sacrifice this season to something as petty as morals.
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Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
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Pregnant. Chloe was pregnant. Susan shook her head and clutched the charts closer to her chest as she walked through the ER halls. Pregnant. Her own sister had been stupid enough to go out and get pregnant by some guy she barely knew, and . . .
Susan rolled her eyes irritably. Chloe's behavior shouldn't surprise her anymore. This was a very typical thing for her sister to do. Well, no, actually, the typical thing for her to do would be to show up on her doorstep, 9 months pregnant and fully dilated, and to be asking for 50 bucks. At least she was thoughtful enough to come to Susan *now* . . .
Susan was lost in thought when she ran right into Mark. "Oh. sorry," she murmured, moving past him.
Mark stopped in his tracks. "You all right?" he asked curiously. "I heard about Div . . ."
Oh, God. Div. To be honest, Susan hadn't thought about Div too extensively. There was too much to feel bad about and she didn't have the energy for it. "Yeah, I don't know where he went," she mused, keeping her eyes to the ground.
Mark was quiet for a moment. "How's Chloe?"
Oh, God. Chloe. The problem that took too much effort to think about. "Pregnant," Susan commented.
"Really?" Mark asked, surprised. "How is she feeling about it?"
"Surprisingly ecstatic," Susan sighed, walking down the hall. "It's confusing for me, even though it shouldn't be. Nothing about Chloe should surprise me anymore."
"How are *you* feeling about it?" Mark asked, concerned.
Susan looked at him, then sighed. "Not sure yet."
Mark nodded and walked alongside her. "I'll change the subject then," he offered. "How did you like your Secret Santa gift?" He was grinning.
Oh, God. Carter. Susan stared at Mark. "What do you know?" she demanded.
"All I know is that Carter agonized over that gift for a damn long time," he commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "What was it?"
"A music box," Susan murmured, suddenly stricken. The time in the lounge . . . Carter had asked her for advice about his Secret Santa . . .damn it, she should have seen this coming . . .
"Probably diamond studded," Mark commented. "I don't think he was going to spare an expense on that thing."
Susan nodded numbly. "He made a pass at me," she told Mark for no reason at all.
Mark's eyes widened in both surprise and amusement. "Really?" he asked with a grin.
Susan glared at him. "It's not funny," she quipped. "I think I broke his heart."
"Turned him down flat, did you?" Mark asked smugly.
Susan punched him in the arm. "It wasn't like that," she argued. "It was sad, I could tell he was embarrassed."
"Well, he *has* been in love with you since day one," Mark commented.
"He has not," Susan argued.
"Yes he has. Why else do you think he follows you around like a lost puppy?"
"He's a good friend is all," Susan informed him.
"I'm a good friend, and I don't feel the need to follow you around all day," Mark told her.
Susan sighed and stopped walking. "So, what if he had a crush on me," she finally stated. "So what? If I hadn't turned him down then I would have been leading him on, right?"
"Of course," Mark agreed brightly.
"Of course," Susan repeated, mostly to herself. "Nothing's changed, you'll see."
She was embarrassed to find herself ducking her head as Carter walked towards her the next morning.
It was the first time she'd seen him since that night. To be honest, the enormity of Chloe's situation and Div's disappearance allowed her to sort of forget what had happened with Carter, but once Mark had brought it up, a whole can of worms had opened in her mind. Her cheeks burned every time she thought about it. She probably shouldn't have kissed Carter on the cheek to begin with, but he had been so sweet, giving her ride to Div's and then home - and to top things off, he'd been her Secret Santa. It was the least she could have done.
Well, she *could* have done more. When he had leaned in for that kiss . . . God . . . Susan's stomach dropped just thinking about it. He'd seemed so serious all of a sudden, so nervous, like all those months ago when he'd been brand new in the ER. But he'd seemed so sure of himself. It wasn't that it was creepy, or gross . . .
It scared Susan because she'd almost given in. She had been *very* close to returning the kiss. She wasn't romantically inclined towards Carter - the thought had never even entered her mind before that moment.
All right, that was a lie. He was cute, and friendly, and kind, and caring . . . but the truth was, she'd never actually considered kissing him before he'd puckered up. He was a med student - he was off limits. It was a cardinal rule of the ER. The age difference made no impact on her. But mostly it was because he was a friend, she convinced herself, because he *is* a friend, not because he was a med student and not because he was a few years younger than she was. It was because he was a friend.
Susan shook her head and focused on not making eye contact with Carter in the halls. It would never work. The idea of kissing Carter was enough to send chills up her spine. Not that it would be an undesirable experience - Susan bit back a smile as she imagined how it might have been. It would be weird, was all. She decided to stop thinking about it on that note. It would be weird. He was a med student, he was her friend, it would be weird. It would be like kissing Mark, for God's sake. Although Mark was more like her brother than anything else. Carter was . . . Carter was . . . damn it, Carter was just Carter. It wouldn't work was all. She couldn't lead him on like this. Even talking about it with him might give him false hope.
Just as she was about to cross paths with Carter in the halls, she was tempted to duck into a nearby exam room - then was thwarted on that idea when he beat her to it. Apparently he was just as embarrassed as she was. 'Well, of course he is,' Susan reminded herself, clutching the charts to her chest like a schoolgirl. 'It probably took all the bravery he has to make a pass at me like that. And now he has to come to work every day and see the woman who turned him down . . . who broke his heart . . .'
She shook her head irritably and decided to talk to him about it when she got a chance. To let him down gently, to tell him why it wouldn't work . . . or maybe to convince herself why, exactly . . .
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Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
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Carter tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan once more. He glanced over to the bag of marshmallows on the counter - the gourmet kind, of course - and picked it up. They'd be good enough, he supposed. Sugar is sugar, even if it was just going into a cup of Swiss Miss.
He reached into the cupboard above his head and pulled out one mug. It was emblazoned with a company logo he didn't recognize - most likely something his grandfather had brought home from various company fairs and expositions. His grandfather hadn't been a corporate man, really, but he liked to check out his investments when he got a chance. Carter smiled slightly and ran his thumb along the mug's surface. This company, whoever they were, had their money now. They probably didn't care that the man who gave it to them was dead. Carter took little comfort in the fact that the company might be going under without the funds of the Carter Foundation. His grandmother was one of the craftiest financiers around - he had no doubt that she kept up the finances after his grandfather had passed.
But things would be different now. Gamma wasn't doing so well anymore.
"How many marshmallows do you want in your cocoa?" he asked suddenly, pouring the cocoa into the mug. "One or two?"
"Just one," came the voice in the living room. Carter nodded, plopped one into the mug, and brought it out to the next room.
Susan turned around from her place on the floor. "Took you long enough," she teased . . .
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Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
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"Wow," Susan breathed as the cab pulled up to the mansion. "This is your house?"
"This is my grandparents' house, yes," Carter corrected her. The cab driver stopped in front of the door and Carter tipped him generously. "It's been in the family for decades."
"It's beautiful," Susan said softly.
Carter nodded slightly and stepped out of the cab. "It's really nice of you to wait with me like this, you know," he told her, taking her hand to help her out of the cab.
Susan smiled and took his hand. "Such a gentleman," she commented. "But it's no problem, really. You'd do the same for me and my dysfunctional family."
Carter looked at her oddly. "Well, a medically unstable grandmother driving around in the middle of the night just to prove her grandson wrong is as dysfunctional as you get, I guess . . ."
Susan could quickly see that he felt offended. "No, no, you know what I mean," she told him as they walked up to the entrance. "I'm just saying . . ."
Carter shook his head and smiled. "It's all right," he assured her, unlocking the massive gate and opening it. "There's no point in having a family if you can't make fun of them once in a while, is there?"
Susan sighed and followed him through the gate. "I really wasn't trying to make fun of your family," she told him.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I know."
There was a moment of silence as they made their way through the front entrance and towards the front door. "So, what was it like to grow up here?" Susan finally asked.
"Normal, I guess," he told her. "You don't really think about things like wealth when you're a kid."
Susan shrugged. "I don't know about that," she admitted. "I was wishing I was rich well before I hit kindergarten."
Carter smiled as they scaled the stairs to the elegant porch. "I didn't even go to kindergarten," he informed her. "But everyone I knew when I went to boarding school was either equally wealthy or less so, so there wasn't any real concept of wishing to have more."
Susan chuckled as they reached the front door. "You were lucky then," she commented.
Carter's brow furrowed slightly. "Not so lucky." He hated talked about his family's wealth, and he hated talking about his childhood even more.
"No, come on, how many people do you know who could say they lived in a mansion for the better part of their childhood?" Susan teased.
Carter unlocked the front door. "More than I'd care to know," he retorted, opening the door for her.
Susan eyed him carefully as she passed him in the doorway. "You all right?"
Carter shrugged quickly, like he always did when this topic was broached - or any difficult topic, for that matter. "I'm fine," he replied as he shut the door behind them. "Peachy even."
Susan turned away and walked through the massive entryway in awe. "God, look at this place," she murmured to no one in particular. She looked all around the room - the crystal chandelier, the massive staircase, the paintings on the walls . . . "Aww, is that you?" Susan suddenly asked, pointing to a small portrait of a group of people.
Carter walked over to her to look at the painting. His face hardened when he saw what she was pointing at. "No, that would be my brother, Bobby."
Susan turned around to face him. "I didn't know you had a brother," she said softly. The expression on his face was enough to tell her that the situation was rather taboo.
"He died when I was six," Carter told her. "Leukemia."
Susan felt a pang of guilt for touching on the subject. "I'm sorry," was all she could say. Something told her that she should have known that somehow.
Carter's eyes darted to the floor. "It's one of the many skeletons in the closet in my family," he finally said. "We don't talk about it much."
Susan nodded, and gave him a sympathetic look. The only thing she could think to say was "Well, I *wish* my sister was dead, but I bet that's not the same thing" - but Susan held her tongue and looked at the portrait again. "Then this must be you," she said, pointing to another young boy.
Carter peered at the painting, then shook his head. "Nope, that's my cousin Michael. His younger brother is my age . . ." He danced around the idea of telling her about Chase, then decided to leave it to another time. No person could take too much Carter angst in one day.
Susan shook her head and looked over the picture once more. "Well, where are you?" she asked.
"I wasn't born yet," Carter told her, moving on to the next picture on the wall. "But if you're dying to see a picture of me, here's one of me . . ."
Susan walked over to him. "How cute!" she exclaimed, looking at the picture. "This is when you were in boarding school?"
Carter nodded. "I was seven or eight," he told her, glancing at the picture once more. "It's a class photo. The people in that picture are most likely the biggest snobs in the modern world."
Susan turned around to face him. "All except one," she reminded him.
Carter chuckled. "Thank you."
She smiled, then turned back and walked down the hallway. "So, where are we going now?" she asked. "The library? The tennis courts? The Olympic sized swimming pool? The indoor bowling alley?"
"You think you're joking," Carter remarked from behind her, "but you're right up until that bowling alley."
She gave him a sad face. "No bowling alley?"
"It was a hard Christmas when I was nine," Carter told her, keeping a feigned straight face. "I kicked the butler and I got a pony instead."
Susan laughed. "See, you make fun of yourself too," she told him with a grin.
"Well, I'm the only one in the family worth laughing about," he joked, catching up with her in the hall.
"You haven't made any personal contributions to the skeletons in the closet, then?" she asked innocently.
Carter winced slightly. He was going to have to tell her sooner or later . . . just then his hand brushed against hers and he drew it back sharply. "Do you want to see the pool?" he asked, mentally chastising himself for procrastinating. Mark obviously hadn't told her about the stabbing, or the drugs, and Carter was sort of relieved that he hadn't. But that still meant that *he* was going to have to.
"Sure," Susan answered. Their hands touched once more as they walked in sync, and a sense of exhilaration shot through her body. It was the same thrill she got from a first date, or a first kiss . . .
Or a first *attempt* at a kiss . . .
Susan dismissed the memory as quickly as it came. "Which way is the pool? . . ."
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Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
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"You know, there *is* a sofa over there," Carter reminded Susan as he handed her the cocoa.
"I know, but I'm freezing," Susan told him with a slight shiver. "I needed the fire to warm me up."
Carter smiled. "I can warm you up now, you know."
Susan looked at him and held up the cocoa. "I don't need you anymore," she told him plaintively. "I've got hot chocolate to keep me warm."
"I made it for you!" Carter exclaimed indignantly, kneeling next to her on the floor.
"And I appreciate it," Susan teased, patting him lightly on the head.
Carter grinned and pulled up one side of the blanket. He pulled it around his shoulders and put his arms around Susan, drawing her closer to him. "You're right, you don't need me," he murmured as he placed his chin on her shoulder.
Susan smiled and put one hand on the back of his neck behind her. "I wouldn't say that," she chuckled, leaning back to kiss him on the cheek.
Carter kissed her behind the ear and put his cheek to hers. "See, I knew this would be better," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
She leaned into his chest comfortably. "It's a really nice cabin, anyway," she told him. "When you said you had a cabin in the woods we could use for Christmas, I was imagining something between a lumber shack and an Andy Gump."
Carter chuckled. "The Carter family spares no expenses - even on the cabins they only use three or four times a year."
Susan nodded, and they were silent for a moment. "Are you still feeling guilty?" she asked softly.
"No," he lied.
Susan was quiet for a moment. "Well, I am," she confessed.
"You?" Carter lifted his head up and looked at her. "Why would you feel guilty? You're not the one who mouthed off to my grandmother, I was."
"I know," she sighed. "But if I wasn't there then you wouldn't have had to mouth off to her. Which you didn't," she added hastily. "You were just telling her the truth."
"The truth doesn't get you very far in the Carter family," he muttered. "If you have a different opinion than the nearest patriarch or matriarch, you're mouthing off."
"It's not like we didn't even stop in," Susan reminded him, snuggling closer for warmth. "We stayed at the party for at least three hours before we told her we wanted to go."
"My grandmother is big on tradition," Carter sighed. "On Christmas you come, you eat, you open presents, you socialize, you occasionally make business deals, you leave."
"Well, we just happened to do it out of order," Susan told him. "We came, we socialized, we left we had McDonalds on the way over here, and we're going to open presents later."
Carter grinned. "Speaking of presents," he said slyly, getting up quickly and hurrying into the next room. He reemerged a few seconds later and took his place with Susan again. "Merry Christmas," he told her, kissing her lightly before handing her a small, velvet jewelry case. "Sorry it's not wrapped," he added.
Susan smiled and carefully opened the rectangular box. "Carter . . ." she breathed as her gaze settled onto the simple diamond necklace in front of her. It was elegant, but beautifully understated.
"Now, before you say anything," Carter said quickly, taking the necklace out of the box carefully, "I know how you feel about diamonds."
"How do I feel about diamonds?" Susan asked, momentarily puzzled.
"You think they're presumptuous," Carter informed her as he brushed her short hair out of the way and laced the necklace around her neck. "You think that if they're given before a guy knows a woman really well, that the guy is just trying to jump in bed with the woman. Or that he's a psycho who'll spend obscene amounts on a woman he's obsessed with."
Susan turned around in awe. "When did I say that?" she asked, amused.
"Seven years ago," he told her promptly, attaching the delicate necklace to itself behind her head. He moved from behind her so that he could look into her eyes. "That kind of makes me sound like the psycho, doesn't it?"
Susan laughed and kissed him. "No, it makes you sound sweet," she assured him. "I love it."
The words were on Carter's lips - *I love *you* - but he decided not to say anything. It was too soon for that. How many women had he scared off with those three little words, anyway? "You didn't give me a chance to explain it, though," he told her, but it was too late - she kissed him again. Beaten, he wrapped his arms around her tighter and kissed her back. "It's got symbolism to it, just give me a chance," he interrupted, but in the end her lips were too tempting to give up. The kiss was soft, then the flames in the fireplace lapped greedily as it deepened.
But Susan broke the kiss just as it was getting interesting. "Now I've got to give you your present," she told him suddenly, starting to stand up. "It's in the car - I'll be right back."
Carter groaned. "No, get it later," he complained, his hands lingering on her waist. "Come on, we've still got three good hours of Christmas left."
Susan shook her head with a smile. Relenting, she relaxed in his arms and curled her feet closer to her body. "Next to your gift, it's sort of tacky," she admitted, stroking his hand with one fingertip underneath the blanket.
He kissed the back of her neck, barely letting his lips touch her skin. "What is it?" he asked.
Susan skin tingled at his breath. "Not telling."
Carter brought his hands to her face and gently tipped her chin to face him. "Come on, tell me," he coaxed.
"Nope," Susan insisted, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "You wouldn't let me go get it, and you're going to have to wait."
Carter smiled and rested his cheek on her shoulder. "You know, you may be the one person who could make me feel better after telling off my family - my grandmother, especially."
"I thought she was your Gamma," Susan teased.
"She's my grandmother when I'm mad at her." Carter was stubborn, but under the blanket he laced his hands with hers. "Gamma's the one who helped me through everything in my life. My grandmother is the one who would rather start a fight in the middle of a fancy Christmas party than let me and my girlfriend spend a few hours of Christmas alone."
Susan was still. "I'm your girlfriend?"
"Would you prefer 'the woman I'm sleeping with'?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"
"No," Susan quickly interrupted. She turned her head around to face him, and smiled. " 'Carter's girlfriend.' That doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would."
"You thought what would?"
Susan shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. "Nothing, it's a long story."
"It's not so long," he murmured, nuzzling her neck gently. "I was there, remember?"
She smiled. "Absolutely. Of course I remember."
They kissed once more, a long, sweet kiss, and the flames in the fireplace danced around each other excitedly. The wind from the open window swirled outside with a whisper and the snow enveloped the small cabin in a close, white embrace against the dark sky.
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And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
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Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda yadda . . .
Spoilers: Oh, definitely. Through "Quo Vadis," anyway. Also, in the flashbacks, the details may be *slightly* off, since I don't have copies of season 1 at my side - and since I made them up, hehe.
Summary: Flashbacks of a relationship a long time in the making . . .
Song: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"
Rating: I'll give it a PG for good humor, plus major sappiness :)
Note: There's references to episodes like "24 Hours", "The Gift", and "If I Should Fall From Grace", but I made the scenes up. They're presumed to have happened offscreen - it's simpler that way, and frankly, more fun.
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The orange flames licked the sides of the stone fireplace eagerly. A breeze from a nearby open window fluctuated the flames ever so often with each slight gust - staccato, lapping, fluttering, swirling, pat pat pat, steady. The logs under the fire were slowly turning black as they burned, and every so often a definite *pop* could be heard from the fireplace.
The heat radiated onto Susan's face and flushed her cheeks. She drew the woolen blanket around her more tightly, covering her thawing nose slightly from the warmth of the fire. The flames were dancing in front of her, held safely behind the fancy iron gate. Suddenly one flame poked through the gate, and another soon followed. Susan irritably picked up the iron poker next to her and shoved the log back a few inches. The delicate configuration of the logs rapidly tumbled, unleashing a flurry of wild orange sparks. The flames leapt back indignantly, then settled into their new surrounding and began to flicker once again.
Susan put the poker down and drew her toes underneath the blanket. It was a unique Christmas, to say the least . . .
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Have yourself a Merry little Christmas
Let your hearts be light
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"Dr. Lewis?"
Susan's ears perked up at the mention of her name, but she didn't move her eyes from the chart she was studying at the Admit desk. "That's me," she said distractedly, tracing her fingers down the words on the paper.
"I don't know if you know me . . . I'm Dr. Benton's new student . . . 2nd year -"
"Yeah, I think so," Susan said, finally looking up from the chart. In front of her was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, sharply dressed but somehow out of place. The confused, vague fear in his eyes confirmed that he was a med student. "You're Peter's student . . ."
The young man looked confused. "Peter? Have I met him yet?"
Susan smiled and put her chart into the rack. "Peter Benton, your resident."
He nodded with enthusiastic relief. "Yes, right, Dr. Benton, of course," he stammered, and to Susan it sounded like he was reprimanding himself. "Speaking of Dr. Benton, have you seen him around?"
"Not since I saw him with you," Susan told him as she erased her name from the chart. "Lost already?"
"Not anymore. I found my way to the OR and back." He sounded proud of himself.
Susan gave him a tired smile. "Congratulations. You've mastered what it takes most of us several weeks - finding out how the hell to get around this place."
The student nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "All I have to do is figure out which one is Curtain 1 and which one is Exam 1, and I think I'll be all right with the geography. After my ER rotation I probably won't be going anywhere else than the Surgical Floor, anyway."
Susan chuckled. "Your idealism is admirable," she told him, rounding the corner of the Admit desk and heading down the hall. "Everyone goes everywhere in this place. Surgeons go to Radiology, Radiologists go to Surgery, and ER docs go . . . well, we go to Psych."
The student nodded and followed her down the hall too quickly. "Radiology - where's that?" he asked.
"You've got to save something for tomorrow," Susan informed him, turning the corner and opening the door to the lounge. "Over-achieving makes the look of us look bad, Dr - or, um, Mr. . . . um . . ."
"Oh, it's Carter - I mean John, John Carter," he stammered, then nervously held out a hand. "John Carter."
Susan shook his hand sheepishly. "Don't feel bad, I'm awful with everyone's names," she admitted. "It's really not just you -"
John nodded quickly. "No hard feelings," he assured her, shaking her hand vigorously.
Susan smiled, then turned around and stepped into the lounge. She walked to her lockers but gestured to the man on the couch, who was watching TV. "See, ask this guy here," she teased to Carter. "I've known him for God knows how long and I barely know his name. Mike, or Mork, or Max . . ."
The doctor on the couch chuckled but didn't take his eyes off the basketball game on TV. "Just because you're not considerate enough to learn the Med students' names doesn't mean you have to butcher mine," he informed her. He turned his head around to face John. "It's Mark, by the way, no matter what she tells you. Mark Greene. I think we met earlier . . ."
John nodded, and was about to comment when Susan broke in. "I *am* learning the Med students' names," she told Mark defensively. "See, this is John Carter. He's Dr. Benton's new student." John merely smiled from the doorway, looking pleased to simply be involved in the conversation.
"I knew that," Mark replied, finally looking up as the game flashed to a commercial. "*I* pay attention when I meet people." He stood up from the couch and made his way to the fridge. "How do you like working with Peter so far, Carter?"
"Oh, he's . . . uh . . ." John scratched his head, slightly taken aback at being included in the conversation. "He's very dedicated."
"That's one way to put it," Susan commented from her locker.
"Well, I mean, it seems pretty fast paced around here anyway," John hastily added. "I can certainly understand it if he happens to lose track of me one in a -"
"Aw, damn it, someone stole my yogurt," Mark complained from the fridge. "These people have no respect for personal property!"
Susan reached to the back of her locker and pulled out her purse. "You should have labeled it," she reprimanded. "The nurses are pretty vicious about unclaimed food in there."
"I did label it!" Mark whined.
"But, uh, yeah, Dr. Benton just seems a little busy from time to time, is all," John continued, still standing in the doorway. "I think once we get to know each other, our dynamic -"
"Aha, problem solved, there's a soda in here that I'll take," Mark reported from the fridge.
"Hey no, that's mine!" Susan cried indignantly.
"Should have labeled it," Mark told her smugly, popping the top and taking a long gulp.
"I *did* label it!" Susan exclaimed, walking over and punching him playfully.
"Injustice is a bitch," Mark informed her, taking another sip and holding it out of her reach. "Sometimes the innocent ones are the ones to suffer."
"Ugh!" Susan cried, grabbing him around the middle to get the soda away from him. "You're such a jerk!"
"Look, I don't make the rules, I merely enforce them," Mark told her with a teasing grin. Suddenly the commercial on the TV ended and he plopped back onto the couch. "Now go, get out of here, go on your hot date with what's- his-name," he instructed her, sipping the soda triumphantly.
Susan blushed. "It's neither hot nor a date," she corrected him. "It's just dinner."
"Sounds intriguing," Mark called out, obviously absorbed in the game. "Go."
Susan rolled her eyes and turned towards the door, where she saw Carter still standing, smiling from watching the scene in front of him. "Sorry about that," she told him softly, shooting a glare at Mark. "You'll find that not all of the doctors here are saints."
"Oh, no, that's all right," he told her rapidly. Susan could see that he felt out of place. "So . . . you don't know where Dr. Benton might be?"
"OR is my best guess," Susan told him, slinging her purse onto her shoulder. "But you said you'd already been up there. Mark, any idea where Peter might be?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Mark called from the couch.
"You don't need to report to him if you're off, you know," Susan told Carter.
"No, I just had a question about a patient," Carter told her meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where did you say Radiology is?"
"Actually, I think Benton's in surgery," Mark called out suddenly.
Susan rolled her eyes. "And you didn't tell me that before, why exactly?" she asked.
"Just remembered," Mark told her, turning back to the TV.
"Oh, uh, ok then," Carter said uncertainly. "How do I get up to the OR in less than the two hours it took me last time?"
Susan sighed. "What's wrong with the patient?" she asked.
"I'm not sure - I'm having trouble doing the work-up," Carter admitted.
Susan sighed once again, checked her watch indifferently, then put her purse down on the table. "Where's the patient?" she asked as she walked out of the lounge.
"Oh, no no no, really, Dr. Lewis, that's all right," Carter said quickly, hurrying after her. "I don't want you to cancel your plans on my behalf -"
"No, it's fine," she told him sincerely. "Really."
Carter looked at her gratefully. "Curtain 3 - if I can remember where that is," he told her. On the way they passed a vending machine, and quickly he offered "Hey, let me buy you a soda, at least."
Susan chuckled. "That's all right," she said, turning around to face him.
"No, it's the least I can do," Carter insisted, fishing a few quarters out of his pocket. "After all, Dr. . . uh . . ."
"Dr. Lewis," Susan provided with a smile.
"No, the other one - Dr. Greene. After Dr. Greene stole your soda and all, I can at least make it up to you."
Susan smiled. "That's really ok," she told him, then leaned in closer and whispered "I'm the one who stole his yogurt." Carter stared at her incredulously, and Susan laughed. "Now come on, let's find this patient of yours . . ."
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From now on, our troubles will be out of sight
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The snow was falling heavily outside the window. The porch light illuminated the snowflakes so that they looked even whiter against the dark sky - a blanket of white falling onto a black canvas. Carter was transfixed with the image as he mechanically stirred the cocoa in the saucepan.
He should be with her tonight.
Carter shook his head, wishing he could get the guilt out of his mind. One stupid conversation was enough to ruin Christmas for the both of them. One stupid comment - one stupid comment that she had taken a little too personally, in his opinion - and this "joyous" time was not so joyous anymore. But he would be lying if he admitted that he'd rather be with her this Christmas. This really was the best decision, right? Not every Christmas has to be a scene from a Courier and Ives portrait - to quote one of his nastier points in the argument.
Slowly Carter stirred some cinnamon into the saucepan. The smell of this cocoa brought him back to his childhood, back to a time when a white Christmas meant no school, sledding, and snowmen that looked conspicuously like his grandfather.
None of *these* complications, anyway. Who the hell said that Christmas was supposed to be easy, or fun, or merry even? Carter shook his head again and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. Whoever decided that Christmas was supposed to be anything but another complicated ordeal was kidding themselves.
But he'd be lying if he said he wanted to take it back. This really was how he wanted to spend Christmas, and that's exactly what he'd said to her. When she should have been more than understanding, she became cruel in her insults, and as Carter turned the heat off from under the saucepan, he realized that guilt was a part of any good holiday. But hell, it was true - this was how he wanted to spend Christmas. If she really understood him, then she'd understand . . .
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Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
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*************************************
Carter leafed through the catalog, becoming increasingly frustrated with this whole concept of Secret Santas. What had started out as a great opportunity had become a recurring nightmare - everywhere he looked, he saw potential presents and horrible presents. He could give anything to her, really, and he knew that she'd give him that smile and maybe even a hug.
He'd only been in the ER for four months, and he already knew that smile. God. It made him weak at the knees just think about it.
But enough of that. Carter shook his head and concentrated on the catalog. Crystal vases, diamond studded gloves, fur coats - all definitively too extravagant for such an occasion. He didn't want her to know how he really felt, after all . . . well, maybe on some level, he did . . . but if she managed to get a small hint from a perfect present, well then, he couldn't be to blame . . .
Carter flipped the page and grinned at the prospect of getting lacy lingerie for her. *That* would get the point across.
Just then the door to the lounge opened and she walked in. Carter's heart leapt in his throat as he grabbed the catalog, looked around frantically, and stuffed it into his back pocket. "Dr. Lewis," he greeted her cordially, standing up.
She glanced at Carter and smiled. "If you call me that again," she teased, pouring herself a cup of coffee, "then I'm not going to answer you."
Carter smiled too widely. "Susan, sorry, Susan, hello Susan," he corrected himself. "Busy day?"
"The worst." She sipped her coffee and plopped onto the couch. "I'll spare you the gory details."
"Oh, no, no no, if you need to vent then I'm here," he told her sympathetically. He was too tense to sit down again.
Susan sighed, then looked at Carter contemplatively. "All right, well, basically Div has been acting strangely recently. I can't get through to him - I don't even know what he's thinking any more." It was a good thing she was looking into her coffee cup, otherwise she would have seen Carter's face fall with disappointment. "I mean, today he comes up to me and is acting completely fine, and then ten minutes later he's screaming at me about some patient that isn't even mine. It's getting to be too much, I don't know . . ."
Crestfallen, Carter finally sat down in the chair at the table. "I'm sorry," he offered. He was never sure how to react when she complained about Div. "What are you going to do?"
Susan shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. "Damned if I know," she commented.
The room was silent. Forcing himself to be cheery and to change the subject, Carter asked "So, I've got a question for you."
Susan smiled at him weakly. "Shoot."
"I'm trying to buy a present for this woman," he began, unable to meet Susan's eye as he spoke. "What would, say, *you* want for Christmas - just so I can get an idea."
She stared at him blankly. "Is this for the ER Secret Santa exchange?"
Carter nodded before he realized that he would have been better off lying about it.
"Well, who do you have?" she asked, sipping her coffee.
"I . . . can't tell you that," Carter told her quickly. "All I need to know is -"
"Oh, come on, wait a minute," Susan interrupted as she sat up on the couch. "Just tell me who you have!"
"That's not important," Carter told her hastily. "Besides, the whole point of the Secret Santa is to keep it a secret."
"No one keeps it a secret," Susan scoffed, setting her mug on the table. "It's tradition - we all promise we'll never tell, and then three hours later everyone knows who everyone has."
"Well, I intend to play by the rules," Carter sniffed, praying she'd stop prying. He really was a terrible liar.
Susan was quiet as a smile grew on her face. "You have me, don't you?"
"No!" Carter exclaimed quickly. "I have . . . erm . . . Carol."
"You have me?" Carol asked, entering the lounge behind them. Silently Carter cursed whatever power was making this nightmare into reality. "You have me what?"
"He's your Secret Santa," Susan confided.
"Ohh." Carol nodded in understanding. "Hell, I'll tell you what I want right now, saves me the trouble of returning it."
"No-o, I don't have *that* Carol," Carter sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "I have the *other* Carol."
"There's no other Carol in the ER," Carol told him.
Susan grinned mischievously. "I bet I know what's going on."
Carter stared at her in horror.
"Carter picked someone he wants to go out with," Susan continued. "And he doesn't want us to know who it is."
"Aw, how cute!" Carol exclaimed. "Come on, tell us! We know everyone anyway, I can tell you if she's seeing anyone -"
"No, that's all right," Carter interrupted frantically.
"No, seriously, if you want me to match you two up, I'll do it," Carol offered honestly. "Just tell me who it is!"
"That's not the case at all," Carter argued. He was well aware that his face was turning beet red - it was like an interrogation in a 7th grade gym class, except instead of a group of adolescent boys, it was grown women harassing him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how much worse *that* was.
"No, come on, let's ease up on him," Susan told Carol. "If he doesn't want to tell us, then he doesn't have to."
"Thank you," Carter told her gratefully. He cleared his throat, and said "Now, I was thinking about something simple, like diamond -"
Just then her pager beeped, and she groaned in exasperation. "Damn it, I never get a break around here," she sighed, easing up from the couch and heading to the lounge door.
"Have fun," Carol offered, and Carter nodded his agreement.
"I surely will," Susan muttered, but before she opened the door to the hall she added "Don't give her diamonds."
It took Carter a moment to clue in. "Diamonds?"
"It's too presumptuous," she told him. "It's just a Secret Santa gift, after all. She'll think you're trying to jump into bed with her."
Carter looked at her strangely. "Duly noted," he commented, wondering exactly how much she knew.
"Or she'll think that you're an obsessive psycho," Susan added helpfully. "But that's only if the diamonds are real."
"Well, what if they're fake?" Carter asked.
"Then you're just cheap," Carol told him, and Susan nodded in agreement. "Not a good quality in a prospective boyfriend, either."
Susan's pager beeped again, and she groaned. "See you later," she sighed, leaving the lounge.
As soon as the door shut behind her Carter let out a deep breath. "So, no diamonds," he finally said.
"You'd seriously get someone diamonds for the Secret Santa exchange?" Carol asked skeptically. "You know you're supposed to spend a limit of like 20 bucks, right?"
"Well, I was thinking of getting this person something expensive for Christmas, anyway," Carter rationalized. "Besides, money isn't an issue."
Carol looked at him for a moment. "Get her something that you know she'll like," she told him. "If you have feelings for her, then you probably already know what she would want. Try something pretty. Every woman likes pretty things." Carter nodded contemplatively, and Carol stood up to leave, but added "Even Susan."
Carter kept nodding, and didn't realize Carol's implication until she'd already left. Pretty things . . .
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From now on, our troubles will be miles away
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Susan stared wistfully into the fire and wondered what the hell she was doing here. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty for what had happened - it wasn't her fault, after all, it was Carter who had done most of the talking, anyway - but the events of the evening still gnawed at her conscience. *Technically,* she supposed, it was her fault. But only technically. Carter had made the final choice in the matter. He'd decided what he wanted to do today, and in a rather uncharacteristic display of emotions, had put his foot down. It gave Susan a little relief to know that she hadn't caused him to say the things he had said. It had been building up for a long time, Carter's tension had, and sooner or later something was bound to happen.
Or perhaps she was just rationalizing it. Carter really didn't need this kind of irritation in his life, and she didn't need to be the one to cause it.
But somehow, in an overly optimistic spirit, she knew - the romanticism of the holiday spirit always sparked her childish belief in miracles - she had every confidence that it all would work out. True, it made for a strange Christmas, what with the foul mood hanging in the air, but Christmas was a time of forgiveness, and love, and truth. Susan could spend Christmas like this - God only knew how many times she'd had to deal with crises, especially during the holidays - but she worried about Carter. He'd been through too much to sacrifice this season to something as petty as morals.
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Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
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Pregnant. Chloe was pregnant. Susan shook her head and clutched the charts closer to her chest as she walked through the ER halls. Pregnant. Her own sister had been stupid enough to go out and get pregnant by some guy she barely knew, and . . .
Susan rolled her eyes irritably. Chloe's behavior shouldn't surprise her anymore. This was a very typical thing for her sister to do. Well, no, actually, the typical thing for her to do would be to show up on her doorstep, 9 months pregnant and fully dilated, and to be asking for 50 bucks. At least she was thoughtful enough to come to Susan *now* . . .
Susan was lost in thought when she ran right into Mark. "Oh. sorry," she murmured, moving past him.
Mark stopped in his tracks. "You all right?" he asked curiously. "I heard about Div . . ."
Oh, God. Div. To be honest, Susan hadn't thought about Div too extensively. There was too much to feel bad about and she didn't have the energy for it. "Yeah, I don't know where he went," she mused, keeping her eyes to the ground.
Mark was quiet for a moment. "How's Chloe?"
Oh, God. Chloe. The problem that took too much effort to think about. "Pregnant," Susan commented.
"Really?" Mark asked, surprised. "How is she feeling about it?"
"Surprisingly ecstatic," Susan sighed, walking down the hall. "It's confusing for me, even though it shouldn't be. Nothing about Chloe should surprise me anymore."
"How are *you* feeling about it?" Mark asked, concerned.
Susan looked at him, then sighed. "Not sure yet."
Mark nodded and walked alongside her. "I'll change the subject then," he offered. "How did you like your Secret Santa gift?" He was grinning.
Oh, God. Carter. Susan stared at Mark. "What do you know?" she demanded.
"All I know is that Carter agonized over that gift for a damn long time," he commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "What was it?"
"A music box," Susan murmured, suddenly stricken. The time in the lounge . . . Carter had asked her for advice about his Secret Santa . . .damn it, she should have seen this coming . . .
"Probably diamond studded," Mark commented. "I don't think he was going to spare an expense on that thing."
Susan nodded numbly. "He made a pass at me," she told Mark for no reason at all.
Mark's eyes widened in both surprise and amusement. "Really?" he asked with a grin.
Susan glared at him. "It's not funny," she quipped. "I think I broke his heart."
"Turned him down flat, did you?" Mark asked smugly.
Susan punched him in the arm. "It wasn't like that," she argued. "It was sad, I could tell he was embarrassed."
"Well, he *has* been in love with you since day one," Mark commented.
"He has not," Susan argued.
"Yes he has. Why else do you think he follows you around like a lost puppy?"
"He's a good friend is all," Susan informed him.
"I'm a good friend, and I don't feel the need to follow you around all day," Mark told her.
Susan sighed and stopped walking. "So, what if he had a crush on me," she finally stated. "So what? If I hadn't turned him down then I would have been leading him on, right?"
"Of course," Mark agreed brightly.
"Of course," Susan repeated, mostly to herself. "Nothing's changed, you'll see."
She was embarrassed to find herself ducking her head as Carter walked towards her the next morning.
It was the first time she'd seen him since that night. To be honest, the enormity of Chloe's situation and Div's disappearance allowed her to sort of forget what had happened with Carter, but once Mark had brought it up, a whole can of worms had opened in her mind. Her cheeks burned every time she thought about it. She probably shouldn't have kissed Carter on the cheek to begin with, but he had been so sweet, giving her ride to Div's and then home - and to top things off, he'd been her Secret Santa. It was the least she could have done.
Well, she *could* have done more. When he had leaned in for that kiss . . . God . . . Susan's stomach dropped just thinking about it. He'd seemed so serious all of a sudden, so nervous, like all those months ago when he'd been brand new in the ER. But he'd seemed so sure of himself. It wasn't that it was creepy, or gross . . .
It scared Susan because she'd almost given in. She had been *very* close to returning the kiss. She wasn't romantically inclined towards Carter - the thought had never even entered her mind before that moment.
All right, that was a lie. He was cute, and friendly, and kind, and caring . . . but the truth was, she'd never actually considered kissing him before he'd puckered up. He was a med student - he was off limits. It was a cardinal rule of the ER. The age difference made no impact on her. But mostly it was because he was a friend, she convinced herself, because he *is* a friend, not because he was a med student and not because he was a few years younger than she was. It was because he was a friend.
Susan shook her head and focused on not making eye contact with Carter in the halls. It would never work. The idea of kissing Carter was enough to send chills up her spine. Not that it would be an undesirable experience - Susan bit back a smile as she imagined how it might have been. It would be weird, was all. She decided to stop thinking about it on that note. It would be weird. He was a med student, he was her friend, it would be weird. It would be like kissing Mark, for God's sake. Although Mark was more like her brother than anything else. Carter was . . . Carter was . . . damn it, Carter was just Carter. It wouldn't work was all. She couldn't lead him on like this. Even talking about it with him might give him false hope.
Just as she was about to cross paths with Carter in the halls, she was tempted to duck into a nearby exam room - then was thwarted on that idea when he beat her to it. Apparently he was just as embarrassed as she was. 'Well, of course he is,' Susan reminded herself, clutching the charts to her chest like a schoolgirl. 'It probably took all the bravery he has to make a pass at me like that. And now he has to come to work every day and see the woman who turned him down . . . who broke his heart . . .'
She shook her head irritably and decided to talk to him about it when she got a chance. To let him down gently, to tell him why it wouldn't work . . . or maybe to convince herself why, exactly . . .
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Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
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Carter tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan once more. He glanced over to the bag of marshmallows on the counter - the gourmet kind, of course - and picked it up. They'd be good enough, he supposed. Sugar is sugar, even if it was just going into a cup of Swiss Miss.
He reached into the cupboard above his head and pulled out one mug. It was emblazoned with a company logo he didn't recognize - most likely something his grandfather had brought home from various company fairs and expositions. His grandfather hadn't been a corporate man, really, but he liked to check out his investments when he got a chance. Carter smiled slightly and ran his thumb along the mug's surface. This company, whoever they were, had their money now. They probably didn't care that the man who gave it to them was dead. Carter took little comfort in the fact that the company might be going under without the funds of the Carter Foundation. His grandmother was one of the craftiest financiers around - he had no doubt that she kept up the finances after his grandfather had passed.
But things would be different now. Gamma wasn't doing so well anymore.
"How many marshmallows do you want in your cocoa?" he asked suddenly, pouring the cocoa into the mug. "One or two?"
"Just one," came the voice in the living room. Carter nodded, plopped one into the mug, and brought it out to the next room.
Susan turned around from her place on the floor. "Took you long enough," she teased . . .
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Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
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"Wow," Susan breathed as the cab pulled up to the mansion. "This is your house?"
"This is my grandparents' house, yes," Carter corrected her. The cab driver stopped in front of the door and Carter tipped him generously. "It's been in the family for decades."
"It's beautiful," Susan said softly.
Carter nodded slightly and stepped out of the cab. "It's really nice of you to wait with me like this, you know," he told her, taking her hand to help her out of the cab.
Susan smiled and took his hand. "Such a gentleman," she commented. "But it's no problem, really. You'd do the same for me and my dysfunctional family."
Carter looked at her oddly. "Well, a medically unstable grandmother driving around in the middle of the night just to prove her grandson wrong is as dysfunctional as you get, I guess . . ."
Susan could quickly see that he felt offended. "No, no, you know what I mean," she told him as they walked up to the entrance. "I'm just saying . . ."
Carter shook his head and smiled. "It's all right," he assured her, unlocking the massive gate and opening it. "There's no point in having a family if you can't make fun of them once in a while, is there?"
Susan sighed and followed him through the gate. "I really wasn't trying to make fun of your family," she told him.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I know."
There was a moment of silence as they made their way through the front entrance and towards the front door. "So, what was it like to grow up here?" Susan finally asked.
"Normal, I guess," he told her. "You don't really think about things like wealth when you're a kid."
Susan shrugged. "I don't know about that," she admitted. "I was wishing I was rich well before I hit kindergarten."
Carter smiled as they scaled the stairs to the elegant porch. "I didn't even go to kindergarten," he informed her. "But everyone I knew when I went to boarding school was either equally wealthy or less so, so there wasn't any real concept of wishing to have more."
Susan chuckled as they reached the front door. "You were lucky then," she commented.
Carter's brow furrowed slightly. "Not so lucky." He hated talked about his family's wealth, and he hated talking about his childhood even more.
"No, come on, how many people do you know who could say they lived in a mansion for the better part of their childhood?" Susan teased.
Carter unlocked the front door. "More than I'd care to know," he retorted, opening the door for her.
Susan eyed him carefully as she passed him in the doorway. "You all right?"
Carter shrugged quickly, like he always did when this topic was broached - or any difficult topic, for that matter. "I'm fine," he replied as he shut the door behind them. "Peachy even."
Susan turned away and walked through the massive entryway in awe. "God, look at this place," she murmured to no one in particular. She looked all around the room - the crystal chandelier, the massive staircase, the paintings on the walls . . . "Aww, is that you?" Susan suddenly asked, pointing to a small portrait of a group of people.
Carter walked over to her to look at the painting. His face hardened when he saw what she was pointing at. "No, that would be my brother, Bobby."
Susan turned around to face him. "I didn't know you had a brother," she said softly. The expression on his face was enough to tell her that the situation was rather taboo.
"He died when I was six," Carter told her. "Leukemia."
Susan felt a pang of guilt for touching on the subject. "I'm sorry," was all she could say. Something told her that she should have known that somehow.
Carter's eyes darted to the floor. "It's one of the many skeletons in the closet in my family," he finally said. "We don't talk about it much."
Susan nodded, and gave him a sympathetic look. The only thing she could think to say was "Well, I *wish* my sister was dead, but I bet that's not the same thing" - but Susan held her tongue and looked at the portrait again. "Then this must be you," she said, pointing to another young boy.
Carter peered at the painting, then shook his head. "Nope, that's my cousin Michael. His younger brother is my age . . ." He danced around the idea of telling her about Chase, then decided to leave it to another time. No person could take too much Carter angst in one day.
Susan shook her head and looked over the picture once more. "Well, where are you?" she asked.
"I wasn't born yet," Carter told her, moving on to the next picture on the wall. "But if you're dying to see a picture of me, here's one of me . . ."
Susan walked over to him. "How cute!" she exclaimed, looking at the picture. "This is when you were in boarding school?"
Carter nodded. "I was seven or eight," he told her, glancing at the picture once more. "It's a class photo. The people in that picture are most likely the biggest snobs in the modern world."
Susan turned around to face him. "All except one," she reminded him.
Carter chuckled. "Thank you."
She smiled, then turned back and walked down the hallway. "So, where are we going now?" she asked. "The library? The tennis courts? The Olympic sized swimming pool? The indoor bowling alley?"
"You think you're joking," Carter remarked from behind her, "but you're right up until that bowling alley."
She gave him a sad face. "No bowling alley?"
"It was a hard Christmas when I was nine," Carter told her, keeping a feigned straight face. "I kicked the butler and I got a pony instead."
Susan laughed. "See, you make fun of yourself too," she told him with a grin.
"Well, I'm the only one in the family worth laughing about," he joked, catching up with her in the hall.
"You haven't made any personal contributions to the skeletons in the closet, then?" she asked innocently.
Carter winced slightly. He was going to have to tell her sooner or later . . . just then his hand brushed against hers and he drew it back sharply. "Do you want to see the pool?" he asked, mentally chastising himself for procrastinating. Mark obviously hadn't told her about the stabbing, or the drugs, and Carter was sort of relieved that he hadn't. But that still meant that *he* was going to have to.
"Sure," Susan answered. Their hands touched once more as they walked in sync, and a sense of exhilaration shot through her body. It was the same thrill she got from a first date, or a first kiss . . .
Or a first *attempt* at a kiss . . .
Susan dismissed the memory as quickly as it came. "Which way is the pool? . . ."
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Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
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"You know, there *is* a sofa over there," Carter reminded Susan as he handed her the cocoa.
"I know, but I'm freezing," Susan told him with a slight shiver. "I needed the fire to warm me up."
Carter smiled. "I can warm you up now, you know."
Susan looked at him and held up the cocoa. "I don't need you anymore," she told him plaintively. "I've got hot chocolate to keep me warm."
"I made it for you!" Carter exclaimed indignantly, kneeling next to her on the floor.
"And I appreciate it," Susan teased, patting him lightly on the head.
Carter grinned and pulled up one side of the blanket. He pulled it around his shoulders and put his arms around Susan, drawing her closer to him. "You're right, you don't need me," he murmured as he placed his chin on her shoulder.
Susan smiled and put one hand on the back of his neck behind her. "I wouldn't say that," she chuckled, leaning back to kiss him on the cheek.
Carter kissed her behind the ear and put his cheek to hers. "See, I knew this would be better," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
She leaned into his chest comfortably. "It's a really nice cabin, anyway," she told him. "When you said you had a cabin in the woods we could use for Christmas, I was imagining something between a lumber shack and an Andy Gump."
Carter chuckled. "The Carter family spares no expenses - even on the cabins they only use three or four times a year."
Susan nodded, and they were silent for a moment. "Are you still feeling guilty?" she asked softly.
"No," he lied.
Susan was quiet for a moment. "Well, I am," she confessed.
"You?" Carter lifted his head up and looked at her. "Why would you feel guilty? You're not the one who mouthed off to my grandmother, I was."
"I know," she sighed. "But if I wasn't there then you wouldn't have had to mouth off to her. Which you didn't," she added hastily. "You were just telling her the truth."
"The truth doesn't get you very far in the Carter family," he muttered. "If you have a different opinion than the nearest patriarch or matriarch, you're mouthing off."
"It's not like we didn't even stop in," Susan reminded him, snuggling closer for warmth. "We stayed at the party for at least three hours before we told her we wanted to go."
"My grandmother is big on tradition," Carter sighed. "On Christmas you come, you eat, you open presents, you socialize, you occasionally make business deals, you leave."
"Well, we just happened to do it out of order," Susan told him. "We came, we socialized, we left we had McDonalds on the way over here, and we're going to open presents later."
Carter grinned. "Speaking of presents," he said slyly, getting up quickly and hurrying into the next room. He reemerged a few seconds later and took his place with Susan again. "Merry Christmas," he told her, kissing her lightly before handing her a small, velvet jewelry case. "Sorry it's not wrapped," he added.
Susan smiled and carefully opened the rectangular box. "Carter . . ." she breathed as her gaze settled onto the simple diamond necklace in front of her. It was elegant, but beautifully understated.
"Now, before you say anything," Carter said quickly, taking the necklace out of the box carefully, "I know how you feel about diamonds."
"How do I feel about diamonds?" Susan asked, momentarily puzzled.
"You think they're presumptuous," Carter informed her as he brushed her short hair out of the way and laced the necklace around her neck. "You think that if they're given before a guy knows a woman really well, that the guy is just trying to jump in bed with the woman. Or that he's a psycho who'll spend obscene amounts on a woman he's obsessed with."
Susan turned around in awe. "When did I say that?" she asked, amused.
"Seven years ago," he told her promptly, attaching the delicate necklace to itself behind her head. He moved from behind her so that he could look into her eyes. "That kind of makes me sound like the psycho, doesn't it?"
Susan laughed and kissed him. "No, it makes you sound sweet," she assured him. "I love it."
The words were on Carter's lips - *I love *you* - but he decided not to say anything. It was too soon for that. How many women had he scared off with those three little words, anyway? "You didn't give me a chance to explain it, though," he told her, but it was too late - she kissed him again. Beaten, he wrapped his arms around her tighter and kissed her back. "It's got symbolism to it, just give me a chance," he interrupted, but in the end her lips were too tempting to give up. The kiss was soft, then the flames in the fireplace lapped greedily as it deepened.
But Susan broke the kiss just as it was getting interesting. "Now I've got to give you your present," she told him suddenly, starting to stand up. "It's in the car - I'll be right back."
Carter groaned. "No, get it later," he complained, his hands lingering on her waist. "Come on, we've still got three good hours of Christmas left."
Susan shook her head with a smile. Relenting, she relaxed in his arms and curled her feet closer to her body. "Next to your gift, it's sort of tacky," she admitted, stroking his hand with one fingertip underneath the blanket.
He kissed the back of her neck, barely letting his lips touch her skin. "What is it?" he asked.
Susan skin tingled at his breath. "Not telling."
Carter brought his hands to her face and gently tipped her chin to face him. "Come on, tell me," he coaxed.
"Nope," Susan insisted, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "You wouldn't let me go get it, and you're going to have to wait."
Carter smiled and rested his cheek on her shoulder. "You know, you may be the one person who could make me feel better after telling off my family - my grandmother, especially."
"I thought she was your Gamma," Susan teased.
"She's my grandmother when I'm mad at her." Carter was stubborn, but under the blanket he laced his hands with hers. "Gamma's the one who helped me through everything in my life. My grandmother is the one who would rather start a fight in the middle of a fancy Christmas party than let me and my girlfriend spend a few hours of Christmas alone."
Susan was still. "I'm your girlfriend?"
"Would you prefer 'the woman I'm sleeping with'?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"
"No," Susan quickly interrupted. She turned her head around to face him, and smiled. " 'Carter's girlfriend.' That doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would."
"You thought what would?"
Susan shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. "Nothing, it's a long story."
"It's not so long," he murmured, nuzzling her neck gently. "I was there, remember?"
She smiled. "Absolutely. Of course I remember."
They kissed once more, a long, sweet kiss, and the flames in the fireplace danced around each other excitedly. The wind from the open window swirled outside with a whisper and the snow enveloped the small cabin in a close, white embrace against the dark sky.
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And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
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