Disclaimer: "ER", the characters and situations depicted are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant C Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This site is in no way affiliated with "ER", NBC, or any representatives of Lisa Vidal or Laura Innes. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
Author's Notes: My apologies to the Kim fans, but I'm a recent convert to the wonder that is Kerry and I know Sandy better. Not to mention I like the wild streak I see in her.
I don't know when I noticed, and I don't know why I noticed.
But I noticed.
I had been bobbing about in her wake for so long, that I had begun to take her for granted. I mean Weaver was just... Weaver. Driven, successful, aloof and more than a little manic. I didn't understand her, had never really tried.
That is... until that cute little firefighter started hanging around. In hindsight, that was where the changes began. And much, much later, I would find out that the strange transformation had, in fact, begun with a certain blonde psychiatrist we still sorely missed.
Lopez. I remembered her from the kid with his foot stuck in a toilet. Remembered her disgust and mockery that the father hadn't allowed the appliance to be broken open. I grinned when I remembered the husband bragging that it was some kind of `personal hygiene unit' and his wife telling him he was insane. Then later, she showed up with a pair of scruffy kids that she bravely restrained from knocking their foul-tempered skulls in.
Funny, gregarious and unselfconscious, Sandy Lopez was an excellent representative of the good people of Company B. But nothing so out of the ordinary that I would take such strong note of her. Until I noticed how Weaver would watch her, interact with her. An emotional tango of fear, curiosity and a taste of desperation. Sandy stood her ground with the nervous doc, teasing and coaxing like a cat.
Maybe it was the dance between them that fascinated me. Maybe it was seeing the warm, human flashes of the woman behind the acerbic doctor. Maybe it was Sandy's warm coyness.
One afternoon, I flashed a friendly grin. There was a moment's hesitation before she grinned back. Telling myself it was just the lingering Christmas spirit, I held the eye contact long enough to pique her curiosity and she drifted over. "Hi," I heard myself say. "I've seen you around enough that I feel the need to introduce myself. Abby Lockhart."
The bright smile went dazzling and her grip was warm and sure. "Sandy Lopez, at your service. You're one of the nurses, right?"
"Good. Next time I need something done right, I'll know who to come to."
The blatant compliment made me laugh in appreciation. Only the doctors seemed to think they actually ran the hospital. Everyone else knew better. "With an attitude like that, the staff will love you. But watch out for the doctors, they'll skin you."
Our laughter mingled in the hum of the ER and Sandy waved the comment off with a negligent hand. "Doctors are overrated, but I like a few of them just fine, and I know who does all the scut work. We'll let the MD's think they're really running the show."
It cracked me up to hear the commentary coming from someone outside these walls. Warmed from her easy humor and charm, I gestured back at the operating theatres. "Weaver got roped into an MVA, it might be awhile. You want to hang out in chairs, or leave a message?"
Her sharp look echoed my sudden inside thought. Was I fishing for information? Then Sandy shrugged carelessly. "Think it'll be awhile?"
"Let me ask."
In the familiar whirlwind of Trauma 2, Weaver directed the melee with the force of her voice and personality alone. I let myself be dragged in to help on the trauma until there was a break in the action. Weaver didn't so much as turn her head when I stepped up to her elbow.
"Chief? Lopez is outside." That made the green eyes snap over and even with the sterile mask on, her expression spoke volumes. "She wants to know if she should wait."
I kept my tone neutral and warm so as not to scare her off. There was something about Kerry Weaver that drew me like a moth to a flame and I was curious where this new knowledge would take me.
"Umm..." Weaver temporized lamely and cast a skittish glance at her blood-spattered gown. "Is it still quiet out there?"
"Relatively. Oh, and Carter and Greene are both here. You're good to go."
"Okay. I'll be out in a minute."
At the door, I was halted by her calling out. "Oh, and Abby?" The green eyes were warm, her voice subtly soft. "Thank you."
Feeling as though I'd been given the gift of the woman's trust, I returned to Sandy. "It'll be a minute, but we can get her to you soon."
Again, that blinding smile. "Excellent! I owe you one Abby."
It was the beginnings of a beautiful friendship.
As the weather grew warmer, I watched the dynamic between Sandy and Weaver ebb and flow subtly. A casual hand on an arm, a shared smile, the lingering softness that hovered in the corner of the doc's eyes. It was that subtly satisfied expression that finally triggered off the obvious conclusion I had yet to consciously acknowledge.
They were lovers.
Oh, I think I'd known for awhile, but hadn't really let it affect how I dealt with either of them. A mental glance back and I saw Weaver and Legaspi in the halls, their chemistry a force of nature. Then later, once the fiasco that had driven the tall psychiatrist off was over and done with, Weaver had looked wounded and fragile. When Sandy had entered the picture, Weaver had gone to great lengths to stick close to her when patients were brought in.
The curiosity was a living thing inside me. There were a million questions burning me alive and I began to see Kerry Weaver in a whole new light. She'd been married before, and mildly misbehaved with men in the past. Just like any good nurse, I kept my ear tuned to the gossip circuits to keep tabs on everybody. So perhaps Weaver hadn't known that she was attracted to women. What kind of mental trauma had been caused by that revelation? It was a sobering thought. I was so desperate to ask my questions that I became hyper-sensitive to Weaver's privacy. With strategic comments placed here and there, I tried to keep the rumor mills away from her as much as possible.
And Sandy noticed.
There was a strange dynamic between me and the Hispanic firecracker. An odd safe zone where I found my comfortable old defenses lowering. One evening Randi glanced over at the two of us where we cackled madly over shared stories of our work. It was mild frustration layered with that `older sister' kind of tolerant humor. Wiping my eyes, I realized that it was suddenly 9 o'clock. "Damn, Sandy. It's gotten late. If they haven't come out of that meeting by now, it's probably going to be awhile. And I should be getting home myself."
"I'd hate to waste the rest of the night. Join me for a drink?"
"You know I can't drink."
"So you can watch me. C'mon girl, you need to get out more often."
And so it began...
With a message left with Randi for the good doctor, Sandy and I hit the town. Sober or not, the next few hours were a delirious blur of places and faces. The high from an emotional crowd was a rush I hadn't felt in far too long. The insistent tug of my addiction led me to finally drag Sandy to a quiet corner coffee house to rest. "You're gonna kill me," I groaned and rested my head on the table. "Where the hell do you get all this energy?"
Laughing, Sandy waved down an employee and ordered two latte-somethings that sounded sweet and sinful. "The smallest and almost the youngest of ten kids."
"Ten?" I breathed in disbelief.
"Yep. Mama and papa were proper Roman Catholics and had eight kids, then a few years later there were suddenly two more."
"So you were a surprise."
For long moments, she was laughing too hard to reply, instead reaching over to grasp my forearm in a bruising grip. "Girl, I'm always a surprise. Just ask Kerry."
"I'll try to remember you said that."
"Aw, c'mon. She's not that bad. I know she rides you guys ragged, but that's just `cause she so driven to be the best. God, there's times I have to grab her by the hair and make her realize that whatever it is she's so caught up in isn't some kind of contest or race. It's endearing and annoying and as much a part of her as breathing." There was a long pause as Sandy studied my rapt face until I flushed lightly. "You've seen it too, haven't you?" She purred like a cartoon cat. "That fire that makes her intimidating and irresistible all at once."
But the teasing only barely registered as I was lost in the mental image of Sandy pulling Kerry's head back with a strong grip in her hair, tendons standing out in relief, her body arched back. The flush deepened and I desperately tried to shake off the erotic image.
"Yeah," Sandy purred again. "Just like that. She's a tigress, but she can also be a docile lap cat."
Now I was paying attention again. "You can't be serious," I scoffed. "I can't imagine Weaver rolling over and showing her belly to anyone." Another quick fantasy threatened to derail my upper brain. And again, Sandy laughed at my expression.
"You slay me Abs. You people in the ER only see exactly what she wants you to see. For some reason she decided that I was worth being vulnerable with and I take that privilege very seriously. I've grown to trust you and I think it would be good for Kerry to have someone else under her skin. She's too lonely and hurricane Kim really left her tattered and bruised."
I remembered Kim's passion, her focus. It had been reassuring and intimidating, especially coupled with her height and those piercing blue eyes. "Did they love each other?" my voice asked of its own volition.
"Yeah. But it was too much, too soon. There's still a live minefield around that subject, but I've made some progress."
Yikes... to be the focus of that intensity while dealing with coming-out issues. I doubted very seriously that I could have handled it. "Do you love her?"
That made Sandy lean back and look the most serious I'd ever seen her. "In certain ways, yeah, I do. But not like what she and Kim had. I enjoy her company, she's smart and sassy and playful. There've been times we've both been really vulnerable and that helps in what we do. The adrenaline rush is addictive, but it's also wearing."
Wow. Now my imagination conjured up a mosaic of images like a series of short film vignettes. Kerry tucked up under Sandy's chin while they cuddled in bed, laughter and caresses in a sunny kitchen, tender kisses and sweaty, wild sex. It was too much stimuli and I made a `stay back' gesture. "Let me process for a sec. You've just effectively dashed my image of the force of nature that runs my workplace."
The chuckle was low and kind this time and her fingers squeezed a last time before their warmth left me. I was having a hard time sorting out which was throwing me off worse, the idea of Weaver being warm and loving, or the idea of what she must be like in bed.
"Could you handle her being more than just your boss?"
Then I remembered the flashes of the woman under the doctor that I'd been seeing. It had taken effort and time, but I seemed to have learned the trick. Was I ready to see more of that? To be her friend and whatever else came with it? It was a scary and appealing thought. When I pinned Sandy with a steely gaze, she grinned in triumph.
"Bring it on."
My dare had opened the floodgates.
With a canary-swallowing grin, Sandy answered my questions. Elaborated on them. Left me haunted by my own mind's eye from the imagery painted there. It was the most aggravating and erotic thing I had ever done. Or so I thought.
"Had enough, Abs?"
The now-familiar nickname dragged me from my brooding over my soda. I was flushed, and uncomfortable with the heaviness between my legs. Every nerve was tight and alert. The conversation had covered ground that was illicit and titillating, leaving me with no graceful way out. Did I want out? The staring contest held. Were we were looking for a way forward or back? It was impossible to tell.
And then the dynamic changed again with a figure appearing at the edge of our table. Even from the briefest flicker of stimulation in the corner of my eye, I knew who it was. There was no mistaking that crooked gait and the slim lines of her body. "It took me awhile to find you," Kerry Weaver intoned softly.
There was a long, pregnant silence as both of us stared up at her in slavish devotion. Those familiar eyes looked totally different now, the only-imagined gentleness and passion shading them to fey green. My fantasies deepened, sharpened in her physical presence until I thought I would go insane. We held the eye contact well past the limits of propriety, seeing in the other so much that had been hidden before. Under Sandy's persistent and teasing tutelage, I had come to recognize the crush I had on the fiery chief of the ER. How could I not? Only now I saw something in her gaze that fascinated, startled and terrified me.
It was mutual.
Once Sandy had pulled Kerry into the booth, the tension was broken. Or at least put on the back burner. Bold from our long night of conversation, Sandy hooked an insistent hand around Kerry's neck and pulled her into a loving kiss. The murmur of protest was lost as Kerry gave in. I could only stare in fascination at the soft, intimate play of their lips and hands. Could only hear the small noises deep in Kerry's chest as Sandy seduced her in this public place, beneath my watchful gaze. As they parted, a quick flash of tongue across Kerry's upper lip was followed by a peck on the nose. Tucking the flushed doc against her side, Sandy abruptly turned her attention back to me.
"So, what other questions you have, chica?"
Desperately trying to switch mental gears and drag my cerebellum out of my sticky libido, I gaped like a landed fish for long moments. "Wha...?"
"Questions," she drawled out mockingly, her sparkling eyes daring me to go where my imagination already had gone before.
"I... um... think you've answered them pretty effectively, thanks."
Now that did it. Anger roared up to swirl with the mindless arousal that had been plaguing me for hours, days, months... "Fine! You want to know what's running through my head? I'll tell you. The thought of what you two must be like together has driven me nuts. Are you happy now?"
I could feel the heat from my flushed skin like a sunburn. Kerry stared and Sandy chuckled in delight. "Good. Then you're getting my point." There was a ripple of movement in Sandy's arm and Kerry jumped as though goosed. In a heartbeat she was a red as I knew I was.
"I need some air," I somehow managed to rasp out hoarsely and nearly tripped over my own feet and Weaver's crutch in my haste to flee. The noise of the city around me was cathartic, calming my raging hormones and soothing my fears. What the hell was Sandy doing? Why was she trying so hard to get me to respond to Weaver? Could she be offering me an outlet to a fantasy gone amuck? The very thought sent a flashfire through my nervous system that forced me to sit on the curb.
Over the years I had learned bravery in the face of my fears. A life of madness, alcohol and abuse had prepped me to be strong. Would I accept a chance at the powerful woman who ran my world at work? Was I brave enough? Could we handle it?
I felt Sandy's presence at my side but didn't raise my head where it was tucked between my bent knees. "If this is a game, knock it off."
"Shit Abs, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off. It's just..."
I looked over as her voice trailed off to see my pal staring off into the distance with a pensive expression.
"Just what," I sighed, too curious to resist.
"I... um. Shit."
She was flustered! Embarrassed even! Bold, unflappable Sandy Lopez was practically tripping over herself. It emboldened me and brought on an evil grin. "You want to see us together?"
That double take must have hurt. Eyes wide, Sandy nodded slowly and I did the only thing I could.
A long, lusty cackle that released all the tension and brought that sexy simmer back to my libido. "You're on, San, but you better make damn sure that Weaver's on the same page."
"Shit Abs, can't you just call her Kerry?"
I laughed again.
Music is a universal language. A well placed tune can move a crowd to madness or calm. A melody at the right place at the right time can dredge up memories years, even decades, later.
I knew I would never listen to this bass-thunder dance music the same way again. How the hell Sandy had coaxed Kerry into this place, I'll never know. How the hell she talked me into coming with them was all too easy. Again, the energy of the crowd and the weight of my own need led me to do things once inconceivable.
"C'mon lover," Sandy coaxed and tugged Kerry to her feet. "Dance with me, I won't let you fall."
Protesting weakly, Kerry allowed herself to be dragged into the gyrating crowd. And I watched avidly, as Sandy knew I would. Now that she knew that my attraction to Kerry was so strong, she was playing it up. Whether or not I could deliver was still up in the air. What did Kerry look like, under the familiar clothes? What carnal secrets could she teach me with those dexterous hands, those enigmatic eyes?
Then Sandy gestured to me over her lover's shoulder and I froze. A single, beckoning finger crooked teasingly.
Propriety trying to reassert itself. Telling me what a bad idea this was. Curiosity and the burn driving me forward. The twine of their bodies in the flashing lights. The sway of her narrow hips...
Then she was against me, warm and curvy. Sandy's arms stretched out to include me in the embrace as Kerry went still between us. Did any of us really know what we were doing? Daring Sandy, perhaps, as the taunt of her words, the promise of relief in her lover's arms had become too much to resist. It was as if I had done this a thousand times before, molded my body to Kerry's to feel her warmth, her curves, her ribs shifting with every breath. Sandy had tucked her head into Kerry's ear and slowly the doc's head tilted back onto my shoulder. The brush of her fine, brassy hair across my cheek and the arch of her throat was the most erotic thing...
Whatever Sandy was saying or doing made Kerry whimper softly into my ear and I thought I would come undone. Like a living thing, the pulse of the music forced our bodies to move in time. Some banal corner of my brain that was still functioning was careful to keep my body wrapped around Kerry. So that she wouldn't fall, or so I tried to rationalize. Crushed between our strong bodies, she stayed pliable and willing.
It seemed like forever we simply felt the way one another moved; Sandy's hands on my hips, mine on hers, my nose in the copper hair, lost in Kerry's soft scent and the tease of the perspiration beading along her hairline. That warm, human wet drew me in like gravity, the familiar bodily fluid taking on a whole new aspect. Kerry hissed and moaned when my tongue snaked out to trail through the salty moisture behind her ear. I moaned as well, lost in this first taste.
Aggressively, teasingly, Sandy ground into Kerry's willing body, pressing her tight against me. One hand released me to trail lightly over Kerry's arched throat and delicate chin. Willingly, wantonly, Kerry took the digits in her mouth and suckled like a starving infant. Heat and chills made me feel like a fever victim. I was only dimly aware of Sandy's wicked smile as I stared at the erotic spectacle.
Kerry's strong fingers digging into my upper forearm vaguely registered. As did the odd sensation of the crutch cuff pressing into my ribs and elbow. Then Sandy slowly withdrew her hand away and both the index and middle fingers glittered wet with promise in the erratic lighting. I was suddenly aware of their dual stares, but didn't look away. Then those damp fingers touched my lips and I very nearly collapsed. The taste of my fantasy on another's skin. Eyes closed tightly, I absorbed their combined tastes in counterpoint to the lightning and thunder around me.
An eternity passed before Sandy pulled out, leaving me helpless and empty. For the first time since leaving the coffee shop, I met Kerry's eyes. Glassy and dilated, they flashed psychedelic in the lights. Her mouth was glossy and pliant and without thinking, I ducked into kiss her.
There was a small sound. Not protest or surprise or welcome, but all of those things and more. There was no gentleness as I drove between her teeth, desperate to know all of her tastes first hand. Intoxicated, I pressed both hands to her belly and felt the ripple of her muscles. Strong hands gripped my hair and held me tight to the soul kiss.
How long we were wrapped up in one another was a mystery to me. But Sandy was grinning when we finally came up for air. "So ladies, shall we take this elsewhere?"
To be continued?