Gap-Filler: "Leave It To Weaver"

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 "Leave It To Weaver"

RATING: PG

Elizabeth took another awkward swing with the bat, but made a solid connection with the ball nonetheless.

Mark leaned against the fence and smiled. "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"No," she laughed, "this is my first time."

"You're good," he said with an admiring grin. "You'll have to remind me to make sure you're on my team for the hospital's softball tournament next July."

"I will," she chuckled just before she took another swing, this time missing and allowing the ball to hit the chain-link fence between them. A moment later, she winced, "Ahhhh."

"You okay?" he questioned. "What happened?"

She smiled self-consciously. "I think I pulled something in my shoulder."

He pulled back the chain and held an opening for her. "You should let me take a look at that."

"I'll be fine," she assured him as she stepped out of the batting cage.

"I'd still feel better if I take a look," he persisted.

She laughed softly and shook her head. "Only if you let me take you out for a milkshake first. I've heard it's a great way to deal with a bad day."

He laughed. "Okay, deal."

"Good," she smiled triumphantly.

As they were walking away from the batting cage, a pager went off. Mark glanced down and unclipped the unit from his belt. After staring at it for a moment, he cleared the display and placed it back in its holder. "Come on, let's get that milkshake."

"ER?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded quietly.

"You going to call?" she wondered.

He shook his head slowly. "No. They can find some other schmuck tonight."

"What would you like to drink?" Elizabeth asked as she unlocked her door.

"Whatever you're having," Mark replied as he followed her into the apartment.

She flipped through the mail, which she'd picked up on the way in. Not finding anything that needed immediate attention, she dropped the stack on her desk to be handled later. Walking to the small bar, she wondered, "Manhattan sound okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," he nodded. "Mind if I borrow your phone to check my messages, just to see if there's anything from Rachel."

"Sure, help yourself," she replied as she got out the vermouth and bourbon.

He had to smile as listened to the first message from Rachel, telling him about the winning goal she'd scored at her soccer game. There were two hang-ups, and the final message was from Kerry Weaver. He cringed as he heard her voice. She was the last person he wanted to deal with right now. Well, maybe she was tied with Romano.

"Mark, it's Kerry. I need you to call me at the hospital as soon as you get this message. Your father called here looking for you."

His brow creased as he hung up the phone. His father called the ER? He tried to ignore the knot in the pit of his stomach as he dialed the familiar number.

Elizabeth finished mixing the drinks a few minutes later and carried them over to the sofa. "So, any messages?" she wondered as she sat down next to him. When he didn't reply, she looked at him carefully and noticed that all of the color had drained from his face. "Mark?" she questioned anxiously. "What's wrong?"

He was staring at a spot on the table. She was sitting right beside him, but it seemed to take several moments for her voice to reach him. "My mother died this afternoon," he said almost inaudibly.

She sat there in shock for a moment. "What? Oh, my God. Are you okay?"

He slowly turned to look at her. "I don't know," he said as he shook his head.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"Uh, Dad called the ER looking for me after I left. Kerry talked to him. She left a message for me at home, and I just called her back," he explained quietly.

"Is there anything I can do?" she wondered as she began to gently rub his back.

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head, "but thanks."

"You don't have to thank me," she assured him.

He smiled weakly. Turning back to stare at the table, he gave a heavy sigh. He felt as if he was trying to move underwater, but at the same time, his thoughts seemed to be racing. It seemed to take all of his energy just to try to make sense of them.

After a few moments, she carefully suggested, "Why don't you stay here tonight? You shouldn't be alone right now"

He considered this. The last thing he really wanted was to go home to his empty apartment, but at the same time, he just wanted some time so he could try to deal with everything.

"Mark?" she called softly when he didn't answer.

He looked back to her. "Thanks, but I think I should probably go back to my place. I've, uh, I've got a lot to do. I need to call Dad, Rachel, the airline for tickets to San Diego. They probably took her to the hospital on the base. I'd like to talk to the doctor there," he said, almost as if he was thinking aloud.

She sighed gently. She could see exactly what he was doing. He was trying to keep moving, even acting like a doctor, so he wouldn't have to face the reality. "I know you need to talk to your father, and Rachel, but do you need to do all of that tonight?" she wondered cautiously.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and thought of how nice it would feel just to have her in his arms tonight. But he knew that wasn't being fair to her, or to himself. Neither of them was really sure where they stood or where things were going, but for the first time in quite a while, he could see himself spending his future with her. He wasn't ready to take the chance of screwing that up this early.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but I think I should go."

"That's okay," she assured him, "if you're sure."

"Yeah," he nodded as he stood up.

She stood and they started walking towards the door. "Will you promise me something?"

"What?" he asked curiously.

"That you'll call me if you need me? I don't care what time it is or what it's for, I'll be here," she said seriously.

"I promise," he nodded with a slight smile, "thank you."

"I know you'll probably be leaving sometime tomorrow morning, but could you call or page me when you get to San Diego? Just so I know you got there safely," she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"Sure," he smiled. He sighed softly, then almost reluctantly said, "'Night."

"Goodnight, Mark," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek.

He opened the door and started to leave the apartment.

"I meant what I said," she reminded him. "Call me if you need me."

"I will," he nodded.

She leaned against the door and watched him walk to the elevator. As he got in, he turned back and smiled weakly.

"Bye," she whispered as the elevator doors closed.

Stepping back in her apartment, she closed and locked the door, then turned off the lights in the living room. She picked up the two drinks from the coffee table and walked into the kitchen. She reached in and withdrew the cherry from one glass, then dropped it in the other. She emptied the contents of the first glass down the drain, then picked up the second.

Walking into the bathroom, she sat the drink next to the tub and turned on the water. She sighed as she realized she'd forgotten to bring the cordless phone with her, then went back to the living room to retrieve it, before finally sitting it next to her drink.

She winced slightly as she pulled her dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. Remembering the muscle she thought she pulled at the batting cage earlier, she had to smile as she wondered just what he'd had in mind when he said she should let him take a look at it. Somehow, she was pretty sure it wasn't limited to the medical aspect.

She sighed again as she wondered if he would be all right tonight. She just couldn't get the image out of her head of finding him sitting on her sofa, so still and pale. Even now, it sent a chill down her spine. That was why she asked him to stay the night. But she should have known that he wouldn't accept her invitation. He was too much of a gentleman.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she quietly said, "You're falling for him, Corday. Falling hard."

Walking over to the tub, she sank beneath the warm water and floral-scented bubbles. She took a sip of her Manhattan and rolled the liquid around on her tongue as she tried to figure out just what that meant. Glancing at the telephone, she silently hoped he would keep his promise.

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August 16, 2000