Christmas In London, Part VI - December 24
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 Christmas In London, Part V.

RATING: PG

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to take this opportunity to thank Trigg for ALL of her help with information on London. I could NOT have done this without her. Thank you so much for putting up with my endless barrage of questions! I would also like to thank Farah and everyone else who has taken a look at the early versions and offered feedback. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

Part VI - Sunday, December 24, 2000

"Come on," Elizabeth muttered under her breath the next evening as she attempted to fasten the clasp on the bracelet she was planning to wear to dinner at Isabelle's. As the bracelet slipped off her wrist for the fourth time, she swore, "Damn it!"

Mark glanced at her as he finished adjusting his tie. Walking over to her, he carefully picked up the bracelet from the floor, then took her hands in his. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I, uh, I just can't get my bracelet fastened," she said somewhat sheepishly.

"Why don't you let me see what I can do?" he asked with a grin.

She smiled reluctantly as she offered her arm. He carefully encircled her wrist with the thin golden strand and fastened the clasp.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," he smiled back. A look of concern filled his brown eyes as he gently caressed her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she shrugged.

"I know you better than that," he reminded her. She didn't say anything, so he suggested, "It's dinner tonight, isn't it?"

She nodded slightly.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered," he commented. "It's just your mother."

"It's not JUST my mother, Mark," she said with a frustrated sigh. "It's never been JUST my mother."

"What do you mean?" he prompted gently.

She sighed again. "It just, it feels like nothing I've ever done has been good enough for her. It doesn't matter what I've achieved, what I've accomplished, she's still not proud of me."

"Mind if I ask you a question?" he wondered.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Would you say my father was proud of me?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him in surprise for a moment. "Of course!" she replied.

"When did you know that?" he questioned.

"Probably last Thanksgiving," she answered.

"The day you meet him, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Do you know when I realized that? It wasn't until the day he died," he admitted. "You knew that from the things he said, the way he acted. I actually needed to hear the words."

"Why?" she inquired.

He sighed. "Dad gave up a shot at Admiral so that he could stay home, on the base, for me. I just found that out a couple years ago. He wanted me to go into the Navy, I guess sort of as a chance to finish what he started. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to go to med. school, so that's what I did. I always thought I disappointed him, and nothing I ever did seemed to make up for that."

"But he was proud of you, Mark," she reminded him carefully.

"I know that now," he nodded. "But that doesn't stop me from regretting all of the time we lost. I assumed I knew what he was thinking, and maybe he assumed I knew he was proud of me. We were both wrong." He stopped for a moment, and looked at her before quietly saying, "I don't want to see you make the same mistakes with your mother. Believe me, it's not worth it."

"Then I suppose I should give her a chance?" she questioned reluctantly.

"Something like that," he smiled. "Whether you believe it or not, she is proud of you, Elizabeth. And she respects what you do. When I met her that day in the ER, she'd seen you in 'trauma mode,' and she was asking me all about it. She wanted to know what you were doing, if you did that sort of thing every day, if you saved that patient's life. And then, that night, the way she was telling my father about your intubation."

"So, I'm basically worrying over nothing, huh?" she concluded.

"No," he shook his head. "It's something that's bothering you, so it's not 'nothing.' But I think you should give her a chance. You both might be surprised at what you find."

She smiled faintly as she slipped her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" he questioned with a shrug.

"For being here, for keeping me sane," she said as she looked into his eyes.

"You're welcome," he said softly, just before their lips met. Once the kiss ended, he asked, "Are we ready to head out of here?"

She grinned as she said, "No, not quite yet."

"Why not?" he asked in confusion.

"Your tie is crooked," she said with a soft chuckle.

He turned around and looked in the mirror. "No, it's not."

She moved so that she was standing in front of him. As she began to adjust the tie, she said, "Trust me on this one."

"But it's straight," he persisted.

As she finished her work, she smiled sweetly and said, "Now it is."

Realizing it was futile to argue with her, he just laughed and shook his head. "So, are we ready now?"

"Almost," she said as she moved just a bit closer and kissed him tenderly.

"You'd better be careful," he warned as the kiss ended. "Keep this up, and we might not make it out of the bedroom, much less to your mother's."

She laughed as she picked up her overcoat. "Come on. I hate to think how long Parker has been waiting for us."

He smiled as he pulled on his suit jacket, then picked up his coat and followed her down the stairs.

Elizabeth fidgeted nervously with her gloves as the car approached her mother's flat in Surrey.

Mark tried to hide a smile as he reached over and gently covered her hands with his. "You should really try to relax," he suggested. "It's dinner with your mother. It could be worse, it could be an M&M."

She laughed weakly. "Relax? Easier said than done."

"I'll be right there with you the entire time," he reminded her.

"I know," she nodded with a grateful smile. Sighing, she admitted, "And I also know that I'm probably overreacting. It's, it's just that she always seems to have this way of making me feel wonderfully inadequate."

"You're not," he assured her. "You're a dedicated, talented and passionate physician. A trusted and loyal friend. And the best thing that ever came into my life."

She smiled softly. "Thank you," she whispered. "I feel the same way about you. Please tell me you know that."

"I do," he nodded as he leaned in and kissed her just before the car pulled to a stop.

He got out first, then offered his hand to assist her. Turning to Parker, she said, "I'm sorry we had to drag you out on Christmas Eve."

"It's not a problem, Miss Elizabeth," the older gentleman replied. "My sister lives about ten minutes from here. I'm planning to spend the evening with her. I have my pager, so you can just let me know when you're ready to leave."

"Thank you very much, Parker," Elizabeth said with a smile before she and Mark started up the walk to her mother's flat.

Stopping outside the door, she drew in a deep breath. Before knocking, she said, "Here goes nothing."

Chuckling softy, he said, "It'll be fine."

Isabelle opened the door a few minutes later. "Elizabeth, Mark! Merry Christmas! It's so good to see you both again. Please, come in," she said as she took a step back, allowing them to enter the flat.

"It's good to see you, too, Isabelle," Mark replied with a smile as he gave her a quick hug.

"Let me take your coats," Isabelle offered.

Mark took off his coat and handed it to Isabelle, and Elizabeth did the same.

"Elizabeth, you look lovely this evening," Isabelle commented, noticing the long, slim black skirt and green silk blouse her daughter was wearing. "That's a very good color for you."

Elizabeth stared at her mother for a moment, a slightly surprised expression on her face. Finally, she replied. "Thank you."

"I told her the same thing," Mark added with a grin. "It brings out her eyes."

Elizabeth's face flushed slightly as Isabelle smiled and said, "Let's go into the lounge. Would you like something to drink?"

"A glass of wine, please," Elizabeth said as they walked through the flat.

"How about you, Mark?" Isabelle asked as she stepped over to the bar and reached for a wineglass.

"Wine will be fine," Mark replied as he placed their gifts for Isabelle under the tree.

After handing each of them a glass, Isabelle prepared a gin and tonic for herself and sat down in the chair across from the sofa where they were seated.

"Mark, I was so sorry to hear about your father's passing," Isabelle said sincerely. "He was a very dear man."

"He was," Mark replied with a tight nod. Forcing a polite smile, he added, "Thank you."

Knowing how difficult it still was for him to talk about his father's death, Elizabeth gently reached out and covered his hand with hers.

This simple gesture did not go unnoticed by Isabelle, who just smiled inwardly. To Mark, she said, "I hope you know how proud your father was of you."

Mark cleared his throat, then nodded, "I do."

"Parents are always proud of their children," Isabelle commented quietly. "I think it's just that we may not show it in the way our children would hope."

Elizabeth looked at her curiously, but before she could say anything, Isabelle stood up and turned towards the kitchen.

"I should probably check on dinner. I'll be back in a few moments," Isabelle called over her shoulder.

With a confused expression, Elizabeth stared after her mother for a few moments. Finally turning to Mark, she asked, "Who is that woman, and what has she done with my mother?"

He laughed slightly. "I told you, all you may need to do is give her a chance."

She smiled weakly. "Was she trying to say that she was proud of me?"

"That's the way I heard it," he smiled.

"Wow," she said quietly, staring at a spot on the table as she tried to absorb what she'd just heard.

He leaned in towards her, gently nudging her shoulder with his. "You okay?" he questioned softly.

She laughed softly as she nudged him back. "Yeah, I am."

"Good," he smiled.

"Isabelle, dinner was wonderful," Mark said as he wiped his mouth and placed his napkin next to his plate.

"Yes, Mother. It was very good," Elizabeth agreed. "Are you still using the Gloucester Catering Company?"

Isabelle smiled triumphantly. "No, actually I made everything myself."

"Really?" Elizabeth questioned suspiciously. Her mother had never exactly been a gourmet cook. She knew enough to find her way around the kitchen, but that was about it.

"Yes," Isabelle confirmed. "I took a few cooking classes over the summer."

"And what prompted that?" Elizabeth wondered, still finding the idea a little difficult to believe.

"Elizabeth," Isabelle laughed. "Stop being so skeptical! The truth is that I used to have a lot of 'working dinners,' but now, most of my meetings are over breakfast or lunch. I was coming home to an empty house, eating a sandwich, or heating up a bowl of soup for dinner. I finally decided to do something about it, so I enrolled in a cooking class."

"I think that was a very good idea," Mark smiled.

"Thank you," Isabelle smiled back.

"Well, everything was delicious," Elizabeth admitted.

"Thank you," Isabelle said proudly. "I even have one of your favorites for dessert."

"What's that?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Chocolate and strawberry cake, with fudge sauce," Isabelle grinned.

"Ohh," Elizabeth said with a contented sigh. "I haven't had that in ages."

"I know," Isabelle nodded as she stood up and began to clear the dishes from the meal.

"Let me help," Elizabeth offered as she stood and picked up her plate and Mark's.

"Thank you, Dear," Isabelle smiled.

"Anything I can do?" Mark wondered.

"I think we've got it under control," Elizabeth assured him before she disappeared into the kitchen behind her mother.

Both women were quiet as they loaded the dishwasher. Elizabeth went to the cabinet to retrieve three dessert plates, but hesitated a moment. Finally, she asked, "Mother, did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What was that?" Isabelle questioned.

"About parents always being proud of their children," she said quietly, as she stared at the tiles on the floor.

Isabelle smiled slightly. "Of course I did." She paused a moment. "I know you think I was disappointed when you went to medical school, when you decided to become a surgeon like your father. But I'm not. When I was in Chicago last winter, I saw what you do. You save lives, Elizabeth. You make a difference. It's because of that, and everything else that you have accomplished, that I am proud to say you're my daughter."

Elizabeth looked up slowly. There was a part of her that was convinced she would never win her mother's approval. But as she looked at the older woman, that part didn't seem to matter very much compared to the sincerity she saw in her mother's face. "Thank you," she whispered as she felt the sting of unexpected tears.

"You're welcome," Isabelle smiled softly. She picked up the cake and walked past Elizabeth. Gently placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder and said, "We'd better return to the dining room. We wouldn't want Mark to think we got lost with dessert."

"Sure," Elizabeth nodded with a smile as she picked up the plates.

After dessert, Isabelle went upstairs to get Mark and Elizabeth's present while they cleared the table.

Walking back towards the lounge, Mark slipped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and wondered, "Why are you looking so happy all of a sudden?"

She stopped and turned to him with a smile. "You were right."

"You're happy because I was right?" he questioned.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded.

"So that means you were wrong?"

"Yes," she nodded again.

"I was right, and you were wrong. And that makes you happy?" he asked with a confused expression. "I'm never going to figure you out, am I?"

She laughed softly, "Probably not, but I'll make sure you have fun trying."

It was his turn to laugh. "So, what was I right about?"

"When we were getting dessert, Mother said she was proud of me," she explained with a smile.

"I told you so," he grinned.

"Yes, you did," she confirmed just before her lips met his.

As the kiss ended, she reached for his hand and said, "Come on, Mother's waiting."

"Okay," he nodded as he followed her into the lounge. They both collected the presents they'd gotten for Isabelle from under the tree before sitting down on the sofa.

"So, who goes first?" Isabelle wondered with a smile.

"Why don't you open Mark's first?" Elizabeth suggested.

"Sure," Isabelle nodded as she took the square, thin package that Mark offered her. After removing the wrapping paper and ribbon, she carefully opened the top of the box to reveal a delicate silver and polished brass brooch in the shape of a butterfly. "Mark, it's beautiful," she said with a smile. "Thank you. This will go perfectly with several of my suits."

"I'm glad you like it," he smiled.

"I do," she assured him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied.

"I suppose that means it's my turn?" Elizabeth asked with a wary smile as she handed her mother a large, rectangular box.

"I wonder what this could be?" Isabelle grinned as she shook the box slightly from side to side. Once the paper and ribbons had been torn off, she lifted the lid and pulled back the tissue paper, uncovering a tan leather attaché case, with medium brown leather trim.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "Elizabeth, it's wonderful, and just what I need."

"I noticed your old one was starting to get a bit worn while you were in Chicago, and I knew it was something that you'd never buy for yourself, so I thought I'd take a chance," Elizabeth explained.

As Isabelle looked through the satchel she commented, "It's perfect, and quite similar in style to my old one. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Elizabeth smiled.

Isabelle laughed slightly as she handed Elizabeth a thin rectangular box. "I hope you don't mind, but I got one gift for both of you. Well, actually, it's something you can enjoy together."

Elizabeth looked at her mother curiously, then gave Mark a slightly pensive look, trying to figure out just what her mother had gotten them. She opened the box and discovered an envelope bearing her name and Mark's, with a program to the Joffery Ballet in Chicago.

"Ballet tickets?" Elizabeth questioned, trying to force a smile.

"Season tickets, actually," Isabelle corrected with a chuckle. "Now, Elizabeth, Mark, you don't have to look so despondent."

Elizabeth looked at her mother. "You are enjoying this way too much," she griped. "You KNOW how I feel about ballet."

"Oh, is there a story here I should know about?" Mark questioned with a grin.

"No!" Elizabeth replied immediately.

"Yes," Isabelle corrected. "Elizabeth took ballet lessons for almost four years when she was younger."

"She forced me to take lessons," Elizabeth interrupted.

"When she was eight years old, I took her to a performance of The Nutcracker the week before Christmas," Isabelle began to explain. "She was entranced during the entire show. We had box seats, and she was sitting on the edge of her chair, her arms folded on the railing, her chin resting on her hands. She begged me for lessons for about three months after that, until I finally gave in and allowed her to take them at school. She was very good, and received the lead for several of her recitals."

"So why did you quit?" Mark wondered.

"I developed a chest," she grumbled.

"Which isn't necessarily a bad thing," he commented with a grin.

"Mark!" she exclaimed as her face turned crimson.

Isabelle chuckled. "I hope that's not the only reason you're interested in my daughter."

He looked at Elizabeth and shook his head. Seriously, he said, "No, it's not. It's actually for everything that's there below the surface, that makes me want to spent all of the time I have trying to figure her out."

As she looked into his eyes, she couldn't help but smile.

Watching her, he knew no words were needed to explain their feelings for one another.

Isabelle smiled as she watched them. She spoke after a few moments. "Well, I hope you enjoy the tickets. I know the lessons soured your view to a degree, but you once loved the art of ballet. I hope you can recapture that, and I hope it's something you can share."

Elizabeth looked at her mother. "Thank you," she whispered.

Mark smiled, "Yes, Isabelle, thank you. It's very sweet."

"You're welcome," she nodded. "I checked when I ordered the tickets, there are no set dates. From the few weeks I was there, I saw how crazy your schedules are. You can use the tickets for any performance during each show's run in Chicago."

"Perfect," Mark said with a chuckle.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing current events, as well as the traveling Isabelle had done in connection with her lectures.

It was almost ten-thirty when Elizabeth finally looked at her watch. "I didn't realize how late it was," she commented. "We should really be going. I'll page Parker."

As Elizabeth went to use the telephone in her mother's study, Isabelle laughed, "Now that I've bored both of you with my stories all evening, you shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep tonight."

"We had a wonderful time, Isabelle," Mark assured her as he stood up and stretched. "Dinner was fantastic, and the tickets are a beautiful gift. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she smiled. "And thank you, not only for the brooch, which is lovely, but for making Elizabeth happy."

He smiled somewhat self-consciously. "I think the important thing is that we make each other happy. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"For both of your sakes, I hope you never have to find out," Isabelle said sincerely.

"So, better or worse?" Mark wondered as they entered their bedroom and he tossed his suit jacket across the foot of the bed.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, walking over to the closet and stepping out of her shoes.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. "Tonight, dinner with your mother. Was it better or worse than you thought it would be?"

She stared at him for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Go ahead and say it."

"Say what?" he questioned.

"You were right. I was wrong. I was overreacting and worrying about nothing," she said with a guilty smile. "I gave her a chance, and it turned out better than I thought it would."

Grinning, he said, "You know, I think we should come here more often."

"Oh, really?" she questioned suspiciously. "And why is that?"

"Because you've admitted that I was right at least three times in the last twenty-four hours. That has to be a record, or something," he laughed.

She laughed in spite of herself. Walking over to him, she slipped her arms around his neck and smiled. "What can I say? You have your moments."

"Gee, thanks," he said with a laugh.

"You're welcome," she smiled.

He just shook his head and chuckled. "Want to get ready for bed?"

"I guess," she shrugged, "but I'm not really sleepy. How about you?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Something about going to bed early on Christmas Eve just doesn't seem right, does it?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. She thought for a moment, then said, "I've got an idea."

"Okay, what?" he asked curiously.

"How about we go ahead and change, then climb into bed and finish reading 'A Christmas Carol?'" she suggested.

"That sounds perfect," he smiled.

Mark finished changing first, then wondered, "Want me to go downstairs and fix us some hot chocolate?"

"That would be wonderful," she said with a smile as she picked up her skirt, from where she'd let it fall to the floor. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied before leaving the room.

Elizabeth changed into flannel pajama bottoms and Mark's Northwestern sweatshirt, and was curled up under the blankets when he returned fifteen minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"Is it just me, or has it gotten really cold in here?" he asked as he sat one mug on the nightstand on her side of the bed.

She chuckled softly, then said, "It's not just you. Actually, I closed the heat vent before we left for Mother's."

He stared at her for a moment, then asked, "Why in the world did you do that?"

She laughed again. "I forgot this was our first Christmas Eve together. You don't know about my little tradition."

"What tradition?" he questioned as he walked around the bed, sat his mug down, then climbed into bed next to her.

She smiled, almost shyly, then admitted, "Every Christmas Eve, I like to make the bedroom as cold as possible, then snuggle up under the covers, get nice and warm, then sleep until morning."

"I like that idea," he said with a smile.

"Really?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded, "especially since I've got you here to help keep me warm."

"And that is something that I'd be more than happy to do," she grinned.

"So, ready to finish the story?" he asked.

"Almost," she replied. She moved so that his arm was wrapped around her, and her check was resting against his shoulder. "Now I am," she said with a smile.

They took turns reading chapters from the book for almost an hour, until they heard a light knock on the door. Elizabeth gave Mark a curious look, then called, "Come in."

Charles opened the door and stepped into the room. "I saw your light on, and just thought I'd see how your evening went."

"It was very nice," Elizabeth said, laughing slightly self-consciously. "Mother gave us tickets to the ballet for Christmas."

Charles laughed. "Should I assume she forgot your 'proclamation' when you quit, never to have anything to do with ballet again?"

"Actually, she said she was hoping that I would rediscover how much I loved the art of it," Elizabeth explained.

"Maybe she's right," Charles conceded.

"Maybe," Elizabeth agreed.

"Well, I just wanted to say goodnight. I'll let you get back to the story now," Charles said with a smile.

"'Night, Daddy," Elizabeth smiled.

"Goodnight," Mark added.

Turning to Mark, she wondered, "So, ready to finish? Only one more chapter to go."

"Yeah," he nodded. Picking up the book, he wondered, "My turn?"

"I read the last chapter, so yeah, your turn," she smiled.

They finished reading almost half an hour later. Glancing at the clock, she commented, "It's after Midnight."

"Mm-hmm," he nodded as he closed the book and placed it on the nightstand. Slipping his arms around her, he softly whispered, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she repeated softly, just before raising her lips to meet his.

As the kiss ended up, he gently traced her jawline. "Maybe it's just me, but this feels right."

She smiled. "It's not just you. This is right."

He reached over, turned off the light and placed his glasses on the table before sliding down in bed. Softly, he smiled and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered as she rested her cheek on his shoulder and pulled the blankets closer around them.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think: SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com LLP

August 5, 2000

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