What Will It Take?
By: Lori (SixteenOzs)

DISCLAIMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within 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. The story presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is making no profit.

Please do not post or redistribute without the disclaimer above, or without the consent of the author.

Feedback is welcome. Please send all questions, comments or criticisms to SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

SUMMARY: Follows What Will It Take? Part I.

RATING: PG-13. Aftermath of the assult.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to take this opportunity to thank Trigg for letting me bounce ideas, and for looking over samples almost daily. Also, thanks for helping me come up with a title I like. Thank you so much!

PART II - One Week Later

"Mark, can we go for a walk?" Elizabeth asked as she watched him retrieve his coat from the lockers in the lounge.

He looked at her curiously for a moment then nodded, "Sure."

They walked away from the hospital in silence. After several minutes, she hesitated, but finally said, "I was wondering if it would be better if we stopped seeing each other, at least for now."

"What?" he questioned in disbelief.

She paused, then nervously said, "With everything that's been going on, I think it may be easier if we weren't together right now."

"This is what you want?" he asked sadly. He knew it was the last thing he wanted, but with everything she'd been through, he wasn't sure he should try to stop her.

"Yeah, I think so," she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So is this it?" he asked quietly, not wanting to believe it was true. "It's over?"

She stared at the ground for a moment then looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't want it to be," she whispered.

"Then what do you want?" he asked, his voice a mixture of sadness and confusion.

"I don't know," she admitted, shaking her head. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Mark. I just know that I'm confused and I'm scared, and it hurts. I need some time to work through that."

"Okay," he nodded. "Take all the time you need."

"Are you sure?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded again.

"I'm sorry, Mark," she said sincerely.

"Don't apologize. This isn't your fault," he assured her.

She smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" he asked.

She considered this for a moment, then said, "No, that's okay. I'll just take the El."

"Are you sure?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I promise," she said quietly.

"Will you do me one favor?" he wondered.

"What?" she wondered.

"Call me when you get home. Just so I know you're okay," he said with a hesitant smile.

"Sure," she smiled. She took a step closer to him and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Bye, Mark."

"Bye," he echoed as he watched her turn and walk away. A second later, he called after her, "Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?" she said as she turned back to face him.

He didn't say anything right away. "I love you, Elizabeth. I'm here if you need me."

"I know," she said softly. "I love you, too."

He sighed heavily as he watched her walk away. He refused to believe that this was it, that this was the end. He cared about her too much. He needed her too much. He had to believe that they would find some way to work through this.

He watched her until she disappeared from sight. Realizing he didn't want to go home to an empty apartment, he pulled his coat a little tighter to ward off the chill of the night air. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to walk.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and reached for the light switch. After placing her bag by the door and shrugging out of her coat, she locked the door and walked over to the counter to pick up the phone. She dialed Mark's number without even thinking about it. Initially, she was a little surprised when his machine picked up. After thinking about it for a moment, she realized it really wasn't that much of a surprise. She knew he was probably either in a bar trying to forget about what had happened between them tonight, or he was still walking around the city trying to make sense of it.

She left her message after the tone. "Mark, hi. It's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm at home. Safe and sound." She sighed heavily. "I know you said I don't need to apologize, but I still feel like I should. I'm sorry, Mark. For what this is doing to us, and for everything else. I love you, and I know I need you in my life. It's just that until I can get over what happened, I really think this is for the best. I hope you can understand that." She paused for a moment. "I'll see you at work tomorrow. Goodnight."

She sighed again as she hung up the phone. Looking around her apartment, she couldn't help but think about how lonely the place felt tonight. She walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of wine before going back to the bedroom.

She sat the glass of wine on the bureau and walked over to her closet. After kicking her shoes off, she pulled out her thick terrycloth robe and tossed it on the bed. She took off her jewelry and placed it on the bureau, next to the wine glass. She removed the skirt and blouse she'd worn to work and let them fall to the floor, where they were soon joined by her underwear and hosiery. Shivering slightly as the cool air of the room hit her skin, she quickly reached for the robe and wrapped it tightly around her.

She leaned over and scooped up her clothes in one arm, then picked up the wine with her free hand. She went into the bathroom and dropped the clothes into the hamper. Walking over to the tub she sat the wine on the ledge before opening the hot water tap. She reached for a bottle of her favorite bubble bath and added a liberal amount to the running water. After a second thought, she finally decided it would be best to add a little cold water to the bath. There's no point in getting second degree burns from a bath, she thought to herself with a wary smile.

As she waited for the tub to fill, she went to the linen closet and picked up a box of matches, then proceeded to light the numerous candles that surrounded the tub and adorned the counter. Walking back to the living room, she glanced through her CD collection until she found a selection of Mozart that she'd always found soothing. She returned to the bathroom and inserted the CD into the portable stereo she kept there for such occasions.

She checked the temperature of the water, then turned off the faucet and loosened the belt on her robe before stepping into the tub. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as she sank into the steamy water. It was the only place she really felt "safe" anymore. Since the rape, she didn't think she'd gone more than five or six hours without taking a bath or a shower. She never felt clean. There were even times when she would swear she could still feel Dean Rollins on her, when she could still smell his cologne. It had gotten to the point that she was taking a shower at least once or twice during her shift at the hospital. Her jaw trembled slightly as a few tears traced their way down her face. She just wanted to get past this. She wanted her life back.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes and reached for the wine glass. She took a sip then laughed ruefully. For the first time in over a week, she wasn't seeing Rollins when she closed her eyes. That image had been replaced by something else. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but this one was worse. Now, she was seeing the pained look in Mark's eyes when she said they should stop seeing each other.

Hurting him was the last thing that she ever wanted to do, and that's what she thought she was preventing. But now, she wasn't so sure.

He'd spent every night with her since she was raped. He was there when she woke up from the nightmares, and he held her until she stopped shaking. He'd been great, and she was lucky to have him. She knew this wasn't easy on him either. She could tell he hated not being able to take this pain away for her, not being able to do more to help her through this.

When she suggested they stop seeing each other, she thought she was going to make this easier on him. She knew she was the only one who could get through this, and that she had to do it on her own. She knew it wouldn't be easy, and she didn't want to subject him to that. She'd get past this, then she could focus on their relationship again.

What she hadn't counted on was the look in his eyes that practically broke her heart, and the emptiness she felt in her chest because he wasn't with her at that moment. She just had to keep reminding herself that this was what was best for him. It was going to get worse before it got better, and she wouldn't, she couldn't, put him through that.

She took another sip of wine, then rested her head back against the edge of the tub. For the first time she could ever remember, she truly hated someone. Sure, there were the people she didn't really like and would rather avoid if at all possible. Romano certainly came to mind. But as loathsome as he was, he wasn't evil. Dean Rollins was, and she hated him for it. It wasn't for what he'd done to her, even though that was more than enough reason. It was for what this was doing to Mark, what this was doing to their relationship. It wouldn't be easy and it wouldn't happen overnight, but Mark was one of the most important things in her life and she refused to let this destroy them. If she did, then Rollins would win. And THAT was out of the question.

She stayed in the tub for almost an hour. After drying off with the fluffy towel she picked up from the counter, she slipped her arms into her robe and wrapped it securely around her. She turned the stereo off, then opened the drain to let the water out of the tub. Walking over to the mirror, she reached behind her head and loosened the clip that held her hair up. She shook her head slightly, and her red curls fell gently around her face. She ran her fingers through the thick tresses and stared at her reflection for a moment. Sighing, she turned and walked out of the bathroom, then headed towards the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator door and surveyed the contents. Not finding anything she found appetizing, she closed the door. She walked over to the stove and picked up the tea kettle. She filled it with water, sat it back on the stove and flipped on the burner. She got a mug out of the cabinet and a tea bag from the canister on the counter.

As she waited for the water to boil, she walked into her bedroom. She rummaged through the drawers of her bureau until she found her favorite pair of sweatpants. She tossed them on the bed, then checked the closet. She smiled as she found Mark's Blackhawks sweatshirt. She placed it on the bed, next to the pants. She got her underwear and a thick pair of socks from the drawer, then got dressed. She was pulling the sweatshirt on as the tea kettle began to whistle.
She jogged back to the kitchen, cut the stove off then poured the water over the tea bag. Sitting the kettle back on the stove, she picked up the mug and walked into the living room.

She curled up in the corner of the sofa, held the mug tightly with both hands and took a small sip. She sighed heavily. She couldn't help but think that her life was falling down around her. Two weeks ago, she had everything she'd ever wanted. Her career was great, she was in the best relationship of her life with a man she loved more than she ever thought possible. And now, it felt like she was losing it all. There were times when she caught herself just going through the motions at work, she was constantly looking over her shoulder and she was shutting Mark out of her life.

She sat the mug on the table and hugged her arms across her chest. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She smiled slightly as she realized the sweatshirt still had his smell. A few tears slipped down her face, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

He threw his bag on the floor next to the door, then added his coat to the pile. He groaned as he looked around the empty apartment. He walked over the answering machine and pressed play. He'd called home about thirty minutes after she left to check his messages, so he knew she'd gotten home safe. He just wanted to hear her voice again.
After listening to the message, he quietly said, "I'm sorry, too."

He sighed as he stared at the phone. It took everything he had not to pick it up and dial her number. He wanted to know that she was okay. He wanted to make sure she knew that all she'd have to do is say the word and he'd be at her apartment without a moment's hesitation. He was only staying away because it was what she wanted, and he knew if he pushed too hard right now, he could lose her for good.

He walked into the kitchen, his shoulders slumped slightly, and opened the refrigerator door. After looking for a few moments he found some leftover Chinese food on the top shelf near the back. He closed the refrigerator, opened the carton and finally concluded that it was still safe for consumption. He pulled a plate out of the cabinet and emptied the carton onto it before placing it in the microwave.

Opening the refrigerator again, he pulled out a beer and let the door close. He leaned against the sink, twisted the cap off and tossed it into the trashcan before taking a long drink.

When the microwave timer went off, he picked up the plate with one hand and carried his beer to the table with the other. He spent five or ten minutes pushing the food around the plate before he realized he wasn't even hungry. He stood up and emptied the plate into the trash, then left it in the sink. Walking by the table, he picked up his beer and went over to the window.

He sighed heavily as he leaned against the wall and stared out at the city. He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt so helpless in his entire life. More than anything, he wanted to make this easier for her, to take the pain away. But he didn't know how.

He could understand that she wanted to be alone right now. He just hoped she was doing this because she wanted some time to work through everything, not because she thought he "blamed" her for what happened. He didn't, and he never would.

As he stared out at the city, he couldn't help but worry about her. He'd seen her wake up every night since the rape, trembling from the nightmares. He'd seen her flinch at every little noise, constantly looking over her shoulder.

He had to believe that she could get through this. She was strong, independent and even stubborn at times. He knew she could take care of herself, but he hoped she knew she didn't have to. At that moment, he had a huge desire to care for and protect her.

He stood at the window until he finished his beer. Sighing, he walked back through the apartment, locking the door and turning off the lights. He walked into the bedroom and threw his clothes on the floor before going into the bathroom and turning on the hot water in the shower. He grimaced slightly as the sharp needles from the shower's spray hit the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

After getting out of the shower, he changed into sweats and climbed into bed. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling. He wished she was there next to him, or that he was next to her. He wanted to know she was safe.

It was a long time before sleep finally took over.

TO BE CONTINUED...

That's all for Part II. As always, please let me know what you think. Send all comments to SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

I know this was rather short, but I promise I will make up for it with Part III. Speaking of which, here are a few lines from the next installment.

What Will It Take? Part III

Mark: Besides, if all else fails, I could try to make Elizabeth jealous by telling her that I'm spending the evening with two beautiful girls.

Mark: It's an old trick I learned from Susan.

Carol: You could always give her a call.

Female: What if I said I was wrong, that what I really need is you?

[Back to Part I] [Back to Mark & Elizabeth] [Back to Main Page] [On to Part III]