Disclaimer: If you read lotsa fanfic, you should know this part by heart. Michael Crichton, Constant C Productions, Amblin Entertainment and of course Warner Brothers. Please don't sue me, I'm just a bored Australian wanting to be creative! I have no idea what America is like, so please forgive me if my currency and town judgments are wrong. I also have no idea how medicine works. All knowledge I have is from watching ER and reading. Enjoy!

The Love Was Never There

By Casey

"My turn, my turn!" Doug cried, a glass of bourbon in his hand. The quiet drink that the nine friends planned to have soon turned into an outrageously funny game. "Ooohhh!" everyone teased as Doug poked his hand around inside the box. Pulling out a single piece of folded paper, Doug bowed as everyone cheered with delight. Doug unfolded the paper, once, twice, three times. He read the single word written in blue pen. When Doug's face fell to the ground, everyone grinned with delight. "Suck Doug! Suck crap!" Mark teased. He knew what could only be written on that piece of paper, but it was more like who didn't know. "Okay, what can I say about this person" Doug grinned evilly, now having the supreme opportunity to get back all his lost fights. "Hmm, SHE is sitting in this room now" Doug sarcastically toyed with everyone. "She loves to have a go at ANYONE possible, whether it be staff, delivery men or patients..." Doug smiled deviously. "I am known to be arch rivals with her" everyone was laughing, all except for one person. "She HAS to have everything perfect, how she wants it" Doug said, thinking 'this is too good!' "Sometimes I wonder why we all work! If things aren't done right, she will go and re-do any job we all 'supposedly' TRY to do!" by now, Doug, as well as everyone, was pissing himself with laughter. "It's like 'if SHE doesn't do it, it'll never be done'!" Doug roared with laughter.

In the dim light of the bar, everyone's features could be barely made out. The thick haze from smoking bikies playing pool lingered in every nook and cranny of the building. The laughter from eight doctors overwhelmed her. 'They're laughing at me.

Those words are haunting, and they think it's funny' sadly, she put down her glass of wine, but thinking better of it, picked up the glass and hurled it across the room, just missing Doug Ross' head by mere millimetres. The only sober member of the group, wanting to make it home alive, dragged herself miserably to the ladies room. The silence from eight of her colleagues didn't last for long. Before she'd even reached the door, everyone was back to chatting away, laughing and drinking in good company. It wasn't as if her absence would change the conversation. No, that wasn't true. By now they'd all be talking about how 'bitchy' she was, or how 'contrary' she was compared to everyone else. She was the tag along of the group, the outcast. But what was new, from the day she was born, no one had ever been easy on her.

'Keep yourself busy' she always told herself. Rushing around at nine years old, trying to keep her bedroom clean, as well as the rest of the house. Cooking, cleaning, feeding, vacuuming, washing clothes and ironing were just a few of the jobs that she had to entertain herself with. "If you don't do it, it'll never be done!" her mother would shriek before leaving the house to start an eight hour day at work. "Don't you dare break anything girl, or I won't let you go shopping with your friends" her father gruffly snarled as he drove the old Pickup out the drive and off to the factory. First would come the washing of dishes and clothes. It was always good to get the all-day jobs done first. The dishes would be packed away, the washing would be hung out on the line with added inches of her father's toolbox out of the shed. After the washing was done, the cleaning of floors, tables, furniture and windows would follow. "I was playing here first!" shrieked her younger brother. "But it's my truck!" her youngest brother yelled back. Running down the passage, she'd put the youngest in front of the TV and the oldest in his bedroom to read.

Trying to get out with her friends was a lie. She had no friends in the neighbourhood or at school. Just being able to go shopping in town was a joyous time for her. The money that she saved from her paper round at 4:30 in the morning helped to buy herself the essentials like books to read and teddy figurines to collect. Riding a bike would be something anyone like herself would never be able to do, but she was different. Her determined mind "You better give me that receipt with the

EXACT change or I'll give you a hiding like you've never had before" her mother would threaten as she shoved money for a week's worth of groceries into her daughter's hand. The shopping was easy. She could choose what her family would eat every night, mainly because she was the one who had to cook it. Everyone would stare at her when she walked down the isles of the tiny country supermarket, barely able to see over the trolley handle. People knew about her family, about what went on behind closed doors.

Being the only girl out of her family, her father was naturally so enthralled with her two younger brothers that his 'little girl' was the disappointment of the three children. Being able to carry on the family name was all that mattered to her father, so that's why she'd never really held much of a place in his heart. All the money and pain that she'd cost her parents was what really hurt. Maybe if they had realised that she would turn out to be so sour they would have told the doctors to give up. Her father had paid a homeless man to burst into the operating room and try to kill the struggling newborn, or so that's what the kids at school had told her. Maybe if he hadn't signed the consent form before the birth she would never have existed.

She did love her family dearly, but it was obvious that they didn't love her. Even though they'd buy their daughter Birthday and Christmas presents, she knew they didn't have a place in their heart meant for her. They rarely bought her clothes, one bike, a toy cat that chased a mouse and some books, but all the presents were just a 'supposed' cover-up so the community thought that they were a somewhat normal family. It never worked though. The elderly people admired the petit girl, but the children taunted and teased her. They would always laugh as she left the playground, they would throw rotten apples, hoping to hit the defenceless child, but they rarely hit her. All the girls would skip around freely, giggling whenever the scrawny girl walked past them. She knew that they all giggled and whispered, but it never really affected her. The boys would try to trip her, grabbing her hair from up in the trees, laughing loudly at the girl that was different, alone.

That was all she wanted after starting school. The first day had been bad, kids asking questions all day. "What is that for?" or "Why do you have that thing?" She'd learned to overcome the questions, either by walking off or pretending not to hear. But the second day was worse. Everyone had told their parents about the 'new kid with the weird leg'. So many stories about what people thought about her family came out. "I heard her mother ran a car over her when she was two" and "her father put a hammer into her leg when she was sleeping". Those stories had been so sickening; people really hated her family. Knowledge had been a big help with feeding that 'will' to live, being the smartest in the form, possibly the smartest in the school. Scholarships were being handed left right and centre to her father, but he would always turn them down. 'Maybe if it was one of your brothers' was always what he would say.

Living in a small country town just out of Burlington, Colorado, meant that privacy didn't really exist. It also meant that if you wanted a good education you had to travel elsewhere. Travelling by bus for 45 minutes was very boring to her, but it gave her time to think. No one ever disturbed her, people never wanted anything to do with the 'cripple' of the class. Not that it ever bothered her, people that were in her class were all going to end up as no-life hillbillies. How was she ever going to make something of her life by living in such a dead end town? All she wanted was to be a someone, not a something. That was why she'd devised plan b. The 'building of a better life'. By putting 50 cents of her paper round money into a savings bank, she'd have enough money to leave this town, whether it be by bus or plane, by the time she was 18. The plan went like this: she'd take up a scholarship at a decent university, rent an apartment out and get a job to pay for the rent.

After primary school ended, it was onto secondary school. That meant more questions, more stares from new people and worst of all, the whispering behind turned backs. But when the first day of high school started and the time of choosing partners came, she met Nathan. The tall brunette was also different. Not in looks, but in speech. His dull monotone voice was what signalled to anyone listening to what the boy had to say would tell them that he was deaf. But that didn't matter to her. They were alike, sharing the same difference to others. Nathan was very nice, and she could always rely on him to be there when partnership was necessary. He was a charming guy, not big headed like everyone else in the dead end school, but quiet and shy, just like her. They both were smart, though she always liked to think that she was smarter, it was obvious. Both of them took signing classes, which meant being able to talk to each other in class without opening their mouths. People envied her for that, it was a feeling that was new to her, being the one people were jealous of.

High school had been fun while it lasted, but when the time came for choosing career paths, she knew exactly where to head. Packing up her suitcase and backpack with the essentials for her trip, she left with 1404 dollars in her pocket, off to the big city. The train and bus rides towards her destination had been tedious. But during the long travels that would bore some people out of their skull, she would write stories about princes and princesses finding their true love in Africa, in the cool, calm waters of Kenya. That was all she ever wanted, to travel to Africa. No one would ever interrupt her hours of scribbling stories in notebooks; no one had the guts. But she did. If someone was bugging her, she'd go right on up and let them know. As the scent of smog grew stronger, she knew that this was her destination. New York, Manhattan, the land of new horizons for her future.

New York brought many new horizons for her. Living in an apartment all by herself became lonely at times, but literature kept her occupied. There weren't too many people in university that would actually talk to her, only if they absolutely HAD to. The teachers were enthralled with their bright young student. No one knew anything about her family, unlike everyone back in Burlington, and that was how it would stay. No one would EVER have to find out about her family, about her past. It wasn't exactly something people would want to know about; everyone in New York seemed to have a brilliant life. Living in such a big city meant much more privacy. There weren't many people that she mingled with, no boyfriends, no friends. She was desperate to have a friend, Nathan had been the only friend that ever existed, but he was very mad at her for leaving. The people in her apartment block were friendly; they would say hello whenever she passed anyone in the hall. But no one ever invited her around for a drink, to dinner or floor parties. New Year was spent alone in her apartment, sitting alone, a glass of wine in her hand, cheering 'Happy New Year' and watching fireworks in Central Park from her bay window.

The only way to support her rent, university fees and living expenses was to work. So, every night after classes, she'd go down to the local cafe and work for five hours. The heartbreaking part was that many of her classmates would come down and watch her work, laughing at her. They would try to trip her, doing anything to make her get fired. But she was ready for them. Dodging outstretched feet, prying hands and dirty looks, she continued to amaze her boss, eventually earning a raise. The money that she received every second week would go to the landlord, the university and the supermarket. She was lucky if she had 10 dollars left in her pocket after paying fees and bills.

After her 4 years of Med School and year of internship in New York ended, she decided that she wanted to travel. When an opening came up for a doctor in Somalia, Africa, she snatched up the chance to travel while healing people. Healing was all she ever wanted to do in life. Healing the sick and injured, like herself. The people in the small town outside of Somalia were caring and understanding. They were all friendly, and accepted her for who she was, and how she was, unlike many other people that she'd come across in her days. Everyone loved the smart, enthusiastic young lady, something that was rare for her, people liking her. It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that you could go out the door and not be laughed at, but talked to, chatting as friends.

The witch doctors in Africa fascinated her. They resorted to natural remedies to heal the sick and wounded. They were very wise, cautious of every new person either passing or inhabiting the village. So when she arrived, ready to start the caring, they had hatred towards her. They cursed the white doctor, drawing evil symbols on the ground she walked on. Every time she passed the tribal doctors, they would chant curses at her. As the time passed, and medicine became more advanced, the witch doctors and their medicine was used less. Taking pity on the elderly tribesmen, she asked to learn about their practices. Cautiously accepting her into their knowledge, the witch doctors taught their student. By the time she had learnt all their was to learn about natural healing, the witch doctors trusted their now friend. Now she was fully accepted into the tribe, she was one of them.

By the time she was 30, Africa had to say goodbye to their friend. An opening came up for a paediatrics fellowship in Toledo, Oregon, and she thought it was too good to turn down. So, farewelling her newfound friends, she set off, back home to America, ready to take up a paediatric fellowship. Even though she never really considered becoming a paediatrician, children seemed to play a fair part of any emergency room, as she learned from her last two years at med school. Travelling to 3 different hospitals in New York, she took a liking to treating children. They were little people, not kids. Their minds were different to that of an adult, a mind that was imaginative, discovering, learning. She knew that children were either fascinated or terrified of a hospital, and that if you were to be too rough with them they would leave with a bad impression of all doctors. That was something she NEVER wanted to happen. Personally, she knew that doctors were lifesavers, saving her own life from the very first day.

The welcoming at Toledo Hospital was marvellous. They all had heard about her travels in Africa, and how long she had stayed there for. Almost seven years. Everyone had heard word from the doctors in Somalia, saying how determined and intelligent their newest member of staff was. The atmosphere of Toledo in general was nice and relaxed, the seaside town was the right size, with the right people, in the best location she'd come across in America. Treating many children, she distinguished many different children's illnesses, and the many different types of children. Even though no child is identical to another, their personalities fitted into categories. The type that were curious and talkative, the type that were shy and quiet, the type that were naughty and rude, and the type that were behaved and well mannered. But still, she found every child a delight to teach. She found those three and a half years to be rewarding, meeting many people, including her husband of two years, Dr Neil King.

Neil was the darling of her life. The minute they first met each other, they both knew. After a tough day dealing with a child orphaned from a car crash, Neil asked her out for a drink, to which she obliged. Their relationship blossomed after that first drink, that first kiss. He loved every part of her, and she loved him dearly. Neil's career had taken the same leap as hers, both having travelled overseas to help and heal the body and mind. They both cared deeply for patients, always being friendly and calm whenever someone distraught or confused was in need of treatment. Their romance was long lasting, but their careers were aspiring in different directions. He was a psychiatrist; she was a doctor. He wanted a family anytime soon; she wanted a family when their finances were better. They both knew, deep down, that they were meant to be together, only fate meant that they would have to wait. After being married for one and a half years, their marriage took a dive. Not in means of divorce, but just a separation in physical means. Spiritually they were together, loving each other for eternity. Their hearts never separated, just their souls. He left for Vancouver, she left for Louisiana.

Unfortunately, the crowd at New Orleans Private Hospital was less accepting of their new doctor. She was allowed to practice with them, but her personality was supposedly 'too friendly' with some cases. The kindest person that she met was Nurse Maria Samson. Every action that she made, Maria was always supportive of. They both became good friends, always chatting over the phone and going shopping occasionally. Maria had told her when to abandon a case because she was getting too attached to the patient. Bonding with patients was something that she struggled to stop. The worst case scenario was a 24 year old man was awaiting a liver transplant. He was rushed into the ER after collapsing at a corporate meeting. The man had a thriving career ahead of him; the sort of person who was prepared to work. Maria had been the one to direct her away from the man's checkups, knowing what would happen. "Why have you been doing this to me?" she asked angrily. "Because the same thing happened to me when I was your age. I was an emotional person and I got too attached to the patients that I saw" Maria told her knowingly. "Don't let yourself grow too attached, it'll be the end of your career" were the words that she took to heart, before leaving for Chicago, Illinois after one year in New Orleans.

Leaving her friendly self behind, she set out to become a stronger person. Mount Sinai held a demanding residency job, proving that toughness would be the key. Leaving New Orleans with not the best reputation, which was nevertheless underrated, she was determined to show everyone how capable and intelligent she truly was. The first day had been wonderful. Everyone had been accepting and grateful for their newest member of staff, which helped her feel comfortable with the staff members. The only problem was that her job didn't seem challenging enough. She always seemed to have nothing to do. Patients would come and go, paperwork would be filled out, but then, no one to talk to and nothing to do. Usually she would read a book, but petty interruptions always destroyed her mood. "I just have to get your signature" people would say. That was at least for real. The pranks that people would pull seemed to get more annoying than ever. "I've just had to ask you something...but I don't remember what. Sorry" was the most common line for interruptions in the lounge. No matter what she was doing, whether it be paperwork, charts or just relaxing, no one would just let her be. That was what agitated her the most. Her peers never took her serious, but all the 'big wigs' did. They were amazed at some of the ideas she'd had for the hospital. People were after this 'amazing doctor' in Chicago, and she didn't want to go for the 'best paying' job that she was offered, but the job that would let her show off just how amazing she truly was. That's how she was led to Cook County General Hospital.

Reminiscing the past she realised that her life had been a long journey. But she now knows that her journey was well worth it. She made it through all the triumphs, heartbreaks and misery that had over-populated her life. From the day she was born, her life had been a long, battle of a story, one that she is very secretive about and one that is not over yet. Beneath the toughest exterior lies the most extraordinary person that has ever existed on this world. No one will ever find out about the past of Dr Kerry Weaver. No one.

THE END