Gap-Filler: "All In The Family"

By: Lori (SixteenOzs)

DISCLAIMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within are the property of Warner Brothers 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 not making a 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: Continuation of the episode "All In The Family"

RATING: PG

Elizabeth sat at the desk in her apartment. Over the last few weeks, she'd been working with several of the surgical interns, preparing a literature review for publication in one of the medical journals. She was trying to go over their drafts, but she'd been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes and hadn't read a single word. She rested her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands.

She sighed as she heard a knock on the door. She didn't want to deal with anyone right now. For a moment, she seriously considered not answering, but she finally got up. Walking to the door, she looked through the peephole and smiled almost reluctantly.

"Hey," she said softly as she opened the door.

"Hi," Mark said as he stepped into the apartment. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," she shrugged as she turned and walked towards the living room.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a lousy liar?" he asked as he took off his coat, then followed her.

She turned and gave him an apologetic look, but didn't say anything. After a moment, she asked, "Want a drink?"

He shook his head. "I'm on call, so I probably shouldn't."

She nodded understandingly as she sat down on the sofa. "How was your day?"

He sighed and sat down next to her. "It felt like it was the longest day of the year."

She glanced at her watch. It was a little after six in the evening. "Did you just get off?"

"Yeah," he nodded. Carefully, he asked, "How was your day?"

"Mother fixed breakfast for me when I got home this morning. The last time I can remember her doing that was when I was eight. I didn't really feel like eating, so I just picked at the food. She treated me like I was on a suicide watch until I finally convinced her I'd be okay and she left for her lecture," she commented sadly.

"Suicide watch?" he questioned, the concern evident in his voice.

She turned to him and smiled slightly. "It all started to hit me when I got home," she admitted. "Mother wasn't exactly prepared for that."

"How about now?" he asked.

"I'm just sort of numb," she said quietly. "How about you?"

"I spent all day trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the traumas and the patients that were coming in," he explained. "I'm not really sure what to do now."

"Tell me about it," she commented cynically.

"I'm sorry I had to stay at the hospital this morning," he apologized.

"It's okay," she assured him. "They needed you."

"What about you?" he questioned, somewhat hesitantly.

She smiled wryly. "That's a no-win question, isn't it? If I say yes, I needed you, then you'll feel guilty because you weren't here. If I say I didn't, you'll question what you mean to me."

He didn't say anything. He was waiting for an answer, but he wasn't going to push.

She sighed. "Yes, I wish you could have been here this morning, just to talk to or to hold me. But I know they needed you in the ER after what happened, and I understand that. Besides, it gave me some time to think, and to try and deal with this on my own."

"Have any luck?" he asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "After Mother left, I went back and took the longest, hottest shower of my life. I tried to get some sleep, but it just wouldn't come. I stayed in bed half the day, then finally decided to get up. I got a few things done around here that I've been putting off. When you came, I was trying to work on a lit review."

"Why couldn't you get to sleep?" he prodded gently.

She stood up and walked over to the window. After a moment, she said, "Can we talk about this later?"

"Sure," he nodded understandingly as he stood, walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

She sighed softly as she leaned back against him.

They were both quiet for several minutes. Finally, he asked, "Have you had anything to eat today?"

"Not really," she admitted. "How about you?"

"No," he replied. "Want to order dinner? I don't know about you, but I really don't feel like going out."

"That's fine," she said absently.

"Pizza?" he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose. "How about Japanese? That place we ordered from a few weeks ago was pretty good."

"Sure," he nodded. "Do you have the number?"

"Actually, I think there's a menu in the kitchen, by the refrigerator," she explained.

"Okay," he said, still holding her.

After a moment, she asked, "Aren't you going to go get it?"

"In a minute," he replied. "But for now, this feels pretty nice."

She smiled as she turned slightly to look at him. "Yeah, it does."

They remained by the window for a few moments, then placed their order for dinner. As they we waiting for the food to arrive, she asked, "How's Carter doing?"

He considered this, then replied, "Pretty well, given everything he's been through. I went up to see him before I left. Right now, he's pretty grateful for the painkillers. I talked to Peter, and he wants to have him up and walking tomorrow, but it'll still be a fairly long road."

She nodded. "Does he know about Lucy?"

"Yeah, he figured it out after he came out of surgery this morning," he said sadly. "He didn't say much, but I think he's blaming himself."

"I think we all are," she commented quietly. "Blaming ourselves, that is."

"You did everything you could," he reminded her seriously.

"And it wasn't enough," she said matter-of-factly.

"Elizabeth, there are probably a hundred things that could have been changed yesterday, any one of which might have prevented this entire thing. But it did happen. When we got to the ER last night, we were already fighting a huge uphill battle. It's probably a miracle that she even made it up to the OR," he pointed out gently.

She didn't say anything, she just walked back over to the window and folded her arms across her chest. He stepped closer to her, but was careful not to invade her space.

She stared out the window. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I promised her I'd take care of her."

"What do you mean?" he prompted.

She turned quickly to look at him, almost as if surprised she'd spoken aloud. She drew in a deep breath before she started to explain. "I was there when she came to. She wanted to speak, so I told her I could plug the trach for a moment or two if she promised only to whisper. All she said was, 'Thank you.' I promised I'd take care of her. Isn't that practically the first thing you learn as a doctor? Don't make promises you're not certain you can keep. Even as I said it, I think I knew I shouldn't, but I did it anyway."

"I don't think there is anything that we've learned about patient care that applies in this situation," he commented, "because this time, it wasn't just a patient. She was one of us. In an ideal world, that wouldn't matter. We'd treat everyone the same. But, we're not machines, the fact that we knew her, that we worked with her, that's going to influence how we react. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, either. Yes, it's going make it harder for us to deal with her death, but there is no doubt in my mind that EVERYONE in that trauma room, and EVERYONE in that OR was doing their absolute best."

She sighed heavily. "What if you're right? What if we did our best? And she died anyway. How are we supposed to go back there?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

She looked at her watch. "Can you believe that about twenty-four hours ago we were sitting there laughing at our parents singing?"

"Feels like another lifetime or two ago, huh?" he asked with a weak smile.

"Something like that," she agreed with a half-hearted laugh. Sighing, she moved to the sofa and sat down. Looking up at him, she softly said, "I don't know what to do here. I don't know how to deal with this."

He felt his chest constrict at the despair in her eyes. "I don't think there's an easy answer. It's just going to take some time."

She looked at him and smiled slightly. She knew this wasn't easy on him either. He didn't have the answers any more than she did.

He sat down next to her, gently pulled her legs across his lap and started to massage her feet.

"Mmm," she murmured, "that feels wonderful."

He just smiled as he watched her for a moment, then commented, "You look tired."

"So do you," she countered. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Not since yesterday morning," he said with a sigh.

"Would you want to stay here tonight?" she wondered.

"Any particular reason?" he asked.

She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap, hesitated a moment, then looked back to him. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she said softly.

He studied her carefully. It wasn't the first time she'd asked him to spend the night, but he could tell this was the first time she wasn't asking because she wanted him there. She was asking because she needed him.

She realized this, too, and it made her more than a little nervous. She loved the way she felt when she was with him, and she was starting to realize just what a big part of her life he'd become. Ever since her parents had sent her off to boarding school, she'd learned how to make it on her own. But now, she just might have to admit that she needed someone else.

Finally answering her, he smiled and said, "Sure. I don't really want to be alone either."
She smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said as he gently caressed her cheek.

She moved closer to him, and just as their lips were about to meet, there was a knock on the door. She rested her forehead against his and chuckled softly.

"Always at the good part, huh?" he asked with a grin.

"Always," she laughed as she swung her legs off his lap.

He stood up, offered his hand and pulled her off the sofa. "I'll get the door, you get the drinks."

"You got it," she nodded as she walked into the kitchen.

Five minutes later, they were settled back on the sofa sharing dinner.

"Will your father be okay on his own tonight?" she wondered.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'll just give him a call later, let him know I won't be home." After a moment, he laughed. "I feel like a teenager again."

She laughed, too. "I know what you mean."

"Your mother?" he questioned. "Is it going to be a problem, me staying here tonight?"

"Well, as long as you're sleeping in my bed and not hers, I don't see why there would be a problem," she teased.

"That's not what I meant!"

"I know," she laughed. Seriously, she said, "I don't know if she'll have a problem with it or not. And I don't care. It's my life, my apartment, and I want to be with you tonight."

Isabelle stepped into the apartment, and she had to smile as her eyes fell on the sofa. Elizabeth was finally getting some sleep. She was stretched out on the sofa, Mark's arm wrapped protectively around her. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, one leg draped over his.

Isabelle had been more than a little worried when she left her daughter that morning. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen Elizabeth so withdrawn and quiet. From the hospital the night before, Isabelle had learned that one of the residents and one of the medical students in the ER had been stabbed by a psychiatric patient. All Elizabeth told her that morning was that the medical student didn't make it.

Elizabeth promised that she would try to get some sleep, but Isabelle knew better. Isabelle hadn't been able to concentrate on any of her lectures or meetings during the day. Every time she had a break, she considered calling Elizabeth to see how she was doing, but she always stopped herself. She'd always taught her daughter to be independent, and Isabelle knew Elizabeth wouldn't appreciate it if she thought her mother was calling to "check-up" on her.

That was why Isabelle was relieved to find Elizabeth sleeping peacefully in Mark's arms. Isabelle had just met him the day before, but it was quite obvious that there was a very special bond between him and her daughter. Maybe it was because they were both doctors, maybe it was because they both worked in the same hospital or maybe it was because they both knew the victims; but whatever it was, he seemed to have been able to get her to open up, he seemed to have been able to help her begin to deal with everything that happened.

Isabelle sighed as she thought about it. That had always been one of the problems in her relationship with Elizabeth's father. There was always a part that he kept hidden from her, that he just wouldn't talk about. After the brief glimpse of Elizabeth at work the day before, Isabelle knew she could never even come close to understanding what they had to deal with on a daily basis. It was good that she had Mark, with whom she could share that.

She walked into the guest bedroom where she was staying, and reached for the blanket on the top shelf of the closet. She took it back to the living room and carefully spread it over the two sleeping forms. She smiled as she watched them for a moment, then turned off the lights and retired to her room.

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