What Will It Take? Part III
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 II

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: As always, I'd like to thank Trigg for all of her input and assistance. Thank you!

PART III - One Week Later

Elizabeth was studying a patient's chart as she stepped off the elevator and walked through the ER. Approaching the admit desk, she looked up and was surprised to find Mark there, working on one of the computer terminals.

He looked up and smiled as he saw her. "Good morning."

"Hi," she said, offering a small smile. "You're here early."

He glanced at his watch. It was about ten minutes until six. "I could say the same about you," he commented.

She didn't say anything, she just offered a guilty smile.

"How are you doing?" he asked carefully.

"I'm hanging in," she replied with a shrug. Trying to change the subject, she asked, "Have you seen Carter? I got a page, he needed a surgeon to check on a possible bowel obstruction."

He turned around and looked at the board for a minute. Turning back to her, he suggested, "Try Exam Three."

"Okay, thanks," she smiled before she turned to leave.

"No problem," he said as he watched her walk away. He sighed heavily. From the dark circles under her eyes and the way she seemed to get lost in her scrubs, it was obvious that she wasn't getting much sleep and that she wasn't eating. He hated not being able to help her.

Sighing again, he turned back to the computer monitor and tried to focus his attention on his work.

Carol came up to him a few minutes later. "Well, you look like hell," she commented with a grin.

He turned to her and laughed ruefully, "Lack of sleep tends to have that effect."

"Lack of sleep?" she questioned. "I've got two little ones at home. That's my excuse. What's yours?"

He wasn't sure how he knew, but it was almost as if he could feel her presence. Turning away from Carol, he looked down the hall and saw Elizabeth come out of Exam Three and meet up with Carter. He watched her for a few moments before looking back to Carol.

"How's it going?" Carol asked seriously.

"About the same," he said sadly.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"Not really," he shrugged. Picking up a chart, he said, "I should probably get back to my patient."

"Mark?" Carol called after him.

"Yeah?" he said turning back to her.

"Let me know if you need anything," she reminded him.

"Sure," he nodded.

Later than morning, Carol approached the admit desk. "I need a doctor who's free," she announced.

"What have you got?" Mark questioned as he looked up from the lab results he was reviewing.

"Damn," Carol swore under her breath. She didn't even think about the connection until it was too late. Looking around she didn't see any other doctors around the admit desk. Somewhat nervously, she said, "I need someone to do a rape kit in Exam Two."

He sighed. "Okay, I'll be there in just a second. I need to discharge a patient first. Go ahead and sign me up on the board. I'll meet you there."

Carefully, Carol asked, "Are you sure? I could fine someone else."

"I can handle this, Carol," he assured her.

"Okay," she nodded.

Kerry walked up behind Carol as she was updating the board. "Mark's taking a rape victim?" she questioned.

Recapping the pen, Carol turned to face her. "Yeah."

Kerry considered this for a moment. She and Mark had disagreed over patient care in the past, and if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that she was usually second-guessing his judgment. She also had to admit that he was a good doctor, and didn't deserve to be treated as such. Looking at Carol, she asked, "Do you think this is a good idea?"

Carol considered this for a moment. "For the patient, yeah. He can't help Elizabeth right now, so he's going to do everything he can to help this woman. For him, no, it's not a good idea. But I'm not sure there's anything either of us can say that would make him step away from this one."

"Are you going to be in there?" Kerry wondered.

"Yeah," Carol nodded.

"Okay, I'll see you later," Kerry said before she left.

A little more than two hours later, Mark found Carol in the drug lock-up.

"Carol, I finally got all of the lab results for Barbara Fowler. I was getting ready to release her. You want to come with me?" he asked.

"Sure," she nodded.

They walked to Exam Two, and he tapped gently on the door before entering.

"Ms. Fowler, we got your lab results back. Sorry it took so long," he said apologetically.

"That's okay," she said with a weak smile. She was seated on the edge of the gurney, hugging her sweater tightly around her.

Mark pulled a stool near the gurney and took a seat. "Right now, all of the tests for STDs and pregnancy are negative. All of your other results look fine. We'll give you the 'Morning-After Pill' now, and Carol will get you the follow-up dose. Just take that in twelve hours and you shouldn't have to worry about getting pregnant. For the STDs, you can get tested again in another week or two and that will give you conclusive results for most everything. With a few others, including HIV, you need to be tested again in six months to make sure. And you should abstain from unprotected sex until you get that second set of results," he explained sensitively. "The police have your statement, and we'll make sure they get the results of the rape kit. Do you have any questions, or anything I might be able to help with?"

Looking more than a little shell-shocked, Barbara shook her head.

Mark hesitated a moment, but finally said, "No matter what happens, you have to remember that this wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve this." He tore a sheet off his prescription pad, wrote something, then handed it to her. "That's the name and number of a psychiatrist here at the hospital that specializes in helping rape victims, she's up on the sixth floor. We can't force you to go see her, but I highly recommend it. From what I can tell, you're a strong, intelligent woman, and you're probably pretty independent, too. You can try to get through this by yourself, but trust me, it'll be a lot harder and it'll take a lot longer. Don't be afraid to ask for help. And if you need to reach me, the number for the ER and my pager number are also on there. "

She nodded as she folded the slip of paper and placed it in her pocket. Smiling slightly, she said, "Thank you, Dr. Greene."

"You're welcome," he said as he stood up. Looking to Carol, he said, "Can you make sure she has everything she needs, then get her discharged?"

"Sure," Carol nodded with a smile before Mark left the room.

Carol caught up with him in the lounge fifteen minutes later. "Hey," she said as she walked in. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he replied as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Want some?"

"I'm trying to stay off the caffeine while I'm nursing. I'll just get some water," she replied as she walked over to the refrigerator.

"Okay," he nodded as he picked up his coffee cup and took a seat at the table.

"You were really great back there," she commented.

"At least I can make a difference somewhere," he commented dryly.

"Have you told Elizabeth what you told her?" Carol asked carefully.

"Wouldn't do any good," he said sadly as he stared at his cup of coffee.

"How's that?" she asked in a confused tone as she sat down across from him.

He looked at her and smiled ruefully. "Barbara Fowler is a CPA, Elizabeth's a doctor. As a group, we're arrogant as hell, think we know everything, refuse to admit we're wrong, and most importantly, refuse to admit we need help. And that doesn't just apply here at the hospital." He took a sip of his coffee, sighed, then admitted, "Right now, she's determined to deal with this on her own. I've told her I'm here if she needs me, but I don't know how to make her realize she doesn't have to do this by herself."

"I'm sorry, Mark," Carol said sincerely. "Is there anything I can do?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "Actually, there may be."

"What?" she asked curiously as she rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"Could you try talking to her?" he suggested somewhat hesitantly.

"Sure," she smiled. "I could see if she's free for lunch."

He knew Elizabeth. He knew how she stored everything away so she could make it through the day at work. He also knew that she'd probably be more receptive after her shift. "If you wanted to go over tonight, I could watch Tess and Kate," he offered.

"Really?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Sure, I haven't spent much time with my Goddaughters lately." Grinning, he added, "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."

"Yeah, changing their diapers," Carol laughed. "But really, that sounds fine. What time are you off?"

"Six," he replied.

"Want me to bring them over around six-thirty?" she questioned.

"Why don't I just come over to your place? It would be easier that having to pack all of their stuff up and bring them over to my apartment."

"That would be great," she admitted. "I'll just apologize now for the mess."

"It couldn't be any worse than mine," he laughed.

She smiled, but before she could say anything, Jerry stuck his head in the lounge. "We've got a an incoming stabbing. Are you two available?"

"Yeah," Mark said, taking one last drink from his coffee cup, "we'll be right there."

Carol drew in a deep breath then knocked on the door. She heard the deadbolt turn and the door opened a few seconds later.

"Carol?" Elizabeth asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured we haven't had a 'girl's night in' for a while, so tonight would be a good time," Carol smiled.

"Come on in," Elizabeth said as she stepped back and allowed her to enter the apartment, then locked the door behind her. "Speaking of girls, where are yours?"

"With a sitter," Carol replied casually as she took off her coat and hung it next to the door.

Elizabeth stared at her curiously before walking into the kitchen. "Did Mark put you up to this?"

Carol grinned. "Would he be in trouble if I said yes?"

Elizabeth smiled reluctantly. "Yes."

"Then, no," Carol replied.

Elizabeth laughed. "Who's your babysitter?"

"Mark," she mumbled.

Elizabeth laughed again. "What would you like to drink? I could mix up some Cosmopolitans."

"Actually, I'll just take juice or milk," Carol said.

Elizabeth gave her a questioning look.

"Breast feeding," she explained. "I've been laying off caffeine and alcohol."

"I don't know how you do it," Elizabeth admitted as she opened the refrigerator and took out the carafe of orange juice.

"It's not that bad. I've gotten used to it." Grinning, Carol added, "You know, if you ever wanted to give up medicine, you could always become a lawyer. That was a pretty mean cross examination."

"Considering Mark's history with attorneys, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Elizabeth said with a laugh. Sighing, she said, "Then again, it's not as if we're doing that great ourselves these days."

"Why is that?" Carol prodded gently.

Elizabeth didn't reply immediately. She took a glass out of the cabinet and poured the juice. She sat the glass in front of Carol and returned the carafe to the refrigerator. "I hope you don't mind if I have something a bit stronger," she said.

"No," Carol shook her head.

Elizabeth walked to the bar to pour herself a drink. Carol picked up the juice and moved to take a seat on the sofa. After Elizabeth had her drink, she took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

Carol waited a moment, then asked, "So, what's going on with you and Mark?"

"Last week, I told him I thought we should stop seeing each other for a while," Elizabeth replied, staring at the drink in her hands.

"Why?" Carol asked gently.

"I thought it would be easier," she said quietly.

"But it's not?" Carol questioned.

"No," she said sadly. "Half the time when I close my eyes, I see Rollins. The other half, I see the look on Mark's face when I told him we should stop seeing each other. I honestly don't know which one is worse. Rollins because all I want to do is forget about what happened, or Mark because I know how much I'm hurting him."

"If you called him right now, he'd be over here in a heartbeat," Carol reminded her. Grinning, she added, "Well, actually, he'd have to wait for me to get home for the girls, but you get the idea."

Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself as she sat her drink on the table. Seriously, she said, "I know he'd be here."

"So why don't you call him?" Carol wondered.

"I can't," she whispered. "How can I try to explain this to him, when I don't even understand it myself? I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't stop thinking about the things I could have done differently. I should have done something, I should have screamed, I should have fought back." She stopped and sighed heavily. "Until I can make some sense of this, I can't put him through it. He wouldn't understand."

"Is there anything I can do?" Carol asked, her voice full of concern.

"No," Elizabeth said, shaking her head, "I don't think there's anything anyone can do."

Carol stared at her juice for a few moments as she debated what to say next.

During the silence, Elizabeth picked up her untouched drink and walked into the kitchen. She poured the drink down the sink, then picked up the tea kettle from the stove, filled it with water, switched on the burner and replaced the kettle.

Carol followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Sighing, she said, "I'm really not sure if I should be telling you this, but of everyone you know, Mark's probably the only one who could even come close to understanding what you're going through right now."

Elizabeth turned around and looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Carol sighed again. "I guess it was almost three years ago now, in the spring. Mark was attacked in the men's room in the ER. The guy worked him over pretty well. He ended up with a couple of bruised ribs, a lot of contusions and a broken hand. He wouldn't talk to anyone about it, kept it all inside. He changed a lot after that. It took him a long time to really get over it."

"Oh my God," Elizabeth whispered in shock. "He never told me."

"Like I said, he didn't talk about it. Doug got a little out of him, but not much," Carol explained.

"Three years ago?" Elizabeth said, thinking aloud. "When I first got here, I think I remember him wearing a splint on his hand. Was that from the attack?"

"Yeah," Carol nodded.

"You said he had some contusions? Did he have stitches over his left eye?" she wondered.

Carol thought back for a few moments, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"One night, I noticed that he had two scars over his right eye and one over his left. He said the ones on the right were from playing rugby to impress a girl and from chasing a dog through the ER," she said smiling slightly. "He changed the subject instead of telling me where the other one came from."

"That sounds like him," Carol said with a smile.

Elizabeth got a mug out of the cabinet and a tea bag from the canister. Turning to Carol, she asked, "Would you like some tea? I've got herbal, it's decaf."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks," Carol replied.

Elizabeth poured the boiling water over the tea bag, sat the kettle back on the stove and turned the burner off. She turned around and leaned against the counter, holding the mug with both hands. She stared down at the steaming liquid as she tried to process everything she'd just heard.

"What are you thinking about?" Carol asked carefully.

Elizabeth looked up at her. "I don't know," she replied honestly.

Carol couldn't help but smile as she opened the door to her house later that evening. Tess and Kate were snuggled in their carriers, sleeping peacefully, and Mark was asleep on the sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table.

Walking around the sofa, she sat down next to him and softly said, "Mark, wake up."

"Huh?" he asked groggily as he woke up. "Carol? Hey. What time is it?"

"A little after ten," she replied.

"Sorry I feel asleep on the job," he said with a smile as he sat up.

She laughed. Looking at the girls she said, "I don't hear any complaints, so I don't think it's a problem. Just one thing."

"What?" he asked.

"Tell me what your secret is," she grinned. "How did you get them both to go to sleep long enough so you could get to sleep yourself?"

It was his turn to laugh. "It's an old trick I learned from Susan. I sang to them. They went to sleep as a defense mechanism."

She smiled, then hesitated a moment. "There's someone I haven't heard you mention in a while," she commented.

He smiled guiltily, but didn't say anything.

"Have you heard from her?" Carol wondered.

He shook his head. "Not since the day she left."

"Do you miss her?" she asked.

"Yeah. She was a great friend," he nodded. He debated with himself for a moment, then added, "I don't regret telling her how I felt. If I hadn't, I would have always wondered if it could have made a difference. It took a while, but I finally realized she was right. Our lives were going in different directions. It just wasn't meant to be. I just regret losing my friend," he said with a bittersweet smile.

"You could always give her a call," Carol suggested.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "too much time has gone by, too much has changed."

She smiled sympathetically.

"So, how was your evening?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"I hope you're not going to hate me for this," she began.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

She drew in a deep breath. "I told Elizabeth about your attack."

He sat back on the sofa and sighed heavily.

"Are you mad at me?" she questioned hesitantly.

He looked at her and smiled weakly. "No."

"She said she didn't think anyone could understand what she was going through. I told her if anyone could, it would be you," she explained.

"I just don't want to see her make the same mistakes I did," he said quietly.

"Keeping it all in, self-destructing, shutting out everyone who cares about you?" she suggested.

"I was a real pain in the ass, wasn't I?" he asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," she grinned, "but we stuck around because we care about you."

"I'm not sure if I ever said it, but thank you," he said with a small smile.

"I know," she nodded. "You're welcome."

His smile faded as he asked, "How is she?"

Carol thought for a moment. "She's scared, she's hurting and she's afraid to ask for help."

He sat forward, took off his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. Replacing his glasses, he looked at her and asked, "Any suggestions as to what I should do?"

"Just be there for her," she said simply.

"Remember this afternoon when I said we're arrogant, refuse to admit we're wrong and refuse to ask for help?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"I forgot to mention that we're also impatient," he said with a half-laugh.

"This time, you're going to have to wait for her to come to you," she reminded him gently.

"I know," he said sadly. Sighing, he stood up and said, "I should go. Let you get some sleep."

She stood and walked him to the door. "Thanks for watching them, and for getting them to sleep for me."

"You're welcome," he smiled. "Thanks for checking on her."

"That's what friends are for. You two are going to get through this," she reminded him.

He smiled weakly. "See you tomorrow."

"'Night, Mark."

"Where the hell is surgery?" Mark shouted across Trauma Two the next morning.

"I paged them twice," Carol replied.

"Yeah, well, this guy doesn't have that time to wait around," he said sarcastically. "Page them again."

Having overheard his comments, Elizabeth grinned as she entered the room. "Someone call for a surgeon?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, but I thought Peter was covering the ER."

"He's tied up with a gastric bypass, so I thought I'd pitch in," she said as she pulled on a pair of gloves and a yellow cover.

"Well, thanks," he smiled.

"So, what have you got?" she asked as she stepped up to the gurney.

He explained the case and they stabilized the patient. As Elizabeth was preparing to take him up to surgery, she turned to Mark and said, "This will probably take a couple of hours. Will you be free for coffee later?"

He was slightly surprised by the offer, but finally replied. "Sure," he nodded. "You know where to find me."

"Okay," she smiled.

He watched as she left the trauma room.

Carol came up to him with a grin. "It's a good sign," she commented.

He looked at her and smiled as he pulled off his gloves and cover. "I hope so."

It was almost one-thirty before Elizabeth was able to make it back down to the ER. She looked around for Mark, but didn't see him. Walking to the admit desk, she ran into Carter.

"Have you seen Mark?" Elizabeth wondered.

Carter thought for a moment. "I saw him about twenty minutes ago. I think he said something about going to discharge a patient. Just hang around here, he should be back in a few minutes."

"Okay, thanks," she smiled.

Mark came up to her a few minutes later. "Hey. What are you doing down here?" he wondered.

"Waiting for you," she replied with a smile.

"For what?" he wondered.

"Lunch?" she suggested. "I know it's kind of late, but if you haven't eaten."

He glanced at his watch. "Actually, now that you mention it, I haven't had time for lunch. We got slammed after you took that GSW upstairs. It just started to slow down about half an hour ago."

"Want to go to Doc's?" she asked.

"Sounds great," he nodded as he started walking towards the lounge. "Just let me grab my jacket."

As the waitress sat their coffee on the table, Elizabeth grinned, "I'm impressed?"

"What?" he asked with a confused expression.

"We've been here five minutes and you haven't asked how I'm doing," she said with a slight chuckle.

He smiled guiltily. "Since you brought it up, how are you doing?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. But I do know that I miss you."

"I miss you, too," he said quietly.

"Mark, I'm so sorry for what happened last week," she began.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured her. "You need some time, I understand that."

"What if I said I was wrong, that what I really need is you?" she asked quietly.

"Then I'd say I'm right here," he smiled.

She smiled, but before she could reply, a pager went off. They both checked to see if it was theirs.

"It's me," Mark announced regretfully.

"Trauma?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded as he stood up.

He reached for his wallet, but she interrupted, "I've got it. You should get back."

"Thanks. You going to stay here?" he asked, hoping she would stay and eat something.

"I think so," she nodded.

"I'm sorry about having to stand you up. Can I make it up to you?" he wondered.

"I'm listening," she grinned.

"Dinner, tonight?" he suggested, putting on his jacket.

She smiled. "Sure, I'm off at seven."

"I'm off at six, I'll find you," he said.

"Okay, sounds great," she replied. "Now, you need to go."

"Okay, okay. I'm going," he laughed as he headed for the door.

Walking back into the ER, he asked, "Jerry, what's going on? I was trying to have lunch."

"Sorry, Dr. G. Four car accident on the Kennedy. We should be seeing the first ones in about five minutes."

"Thanks," he sighed as he went into the lounge to put his jacket in his locker.

He looked up in surprise as Elizabeth entered the lounge a few moments later. "What happened to lunch?" he wondered.

She held up her pager and gave a wary smile. "They needed me, too. So, I hope you're prepared for dinner. I'm going to be hungry."

"That shouldn't be a problem," he grinned.

Their conversation at dinner was light, revolving mostly around their patients and the hospital. As they were leaving the restaurant, he asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"

She waited a few moments, then suggested, "Want to come back to my place? We could talk."

"Sure," he nodded.

As they entered her apartment, she asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine, but thanks," he said as he took his coat off and sat down in a chair next to the sofa.

She hung her coat next to the door then took a seat on the sofa.

He grinned, then asked, "So, which one of us is going to bring it up first?"

"Bring what up?" she asked innocently enough.

"I know what Carol told you last night," he said.

"Carol told me a lot last night," she countered with a smile.

He laughed and shook his head. Turning serious, he said, "I know she told you that I was attacked at the hospital a couple years ago."

"I wasn't sure you wanted to talk about it," she admitted.

"If it will help you, then I don't mind," he said quietly.

"What happened?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

He drew in a deep breath. "I was in the bathroom, washing my face. The next thing I knew, my head was hitting the edge of the sink and I was being thrown against the mirror. There's really not much to tell. He beat me up, then he left. The one thing I really remember is the blood. I know it always looks like more than it is, but to me, it was a lot. It's strange. There was a part of me that was still thinking like a doctor, trying to assess my own condition. I knew I needed help, but it took everything I had move. I finally dragged myself across the room, got almost to the door and collapsed. I could hear Kerry and Chuny talking just outside, but I couldn't do anything. I don't know how long I was there before Doug came in. The next thing I remember was waking up in one of the trauma rooms."

"Did they ever catch the person who did it?" she wondered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Supposedly, they had a few leads, but nothing ever came of it."

There was one question that had been nagging her ever since Carol first told her about his attack. Finally, she decided to ask, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It never came up?" he suggested lamely.

The look she gave him told him she wanted a better answer.

Sighing, he admitted, "I don't know. It happened before you even moved here, before we were together. It's something I've gotten over. There never really seemed to be a reason to bring it up. Even now, what happened to me is nothing compared to what you're going through."

She nodded. It made sense. "How did you get over it?" she inquired.

He laughed ruefully. "I'm probably not the best person to be asking about that."

"Why?" she asked with a confused look.

"I kept it all in. Wouldn't admit anything to anyone, including myself. I got really bitter. I was taking everyone's head off, my friends, the people at work, patients. It wasn't pretty," he said quietly as he stared at the table.

"So what happened?" she prompted.

"Somewhere along the line, I guess I realized that I'd let the fear take over my life. I didn't like what I'd turned into, I didn't want to live like that," he said, looking back to her with a self-conscious smile.

She was quite for several minutes. Finally, she asked, "Did you ever have nightmares, reliving what happened?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "every night for the first couple of months. I'd wake up, spend at least ten minutes convincing myself that it wasn't happening again and give up on getting back to sleep for the rest of the night. Then, I ended up pulling a double in the ER one day. I was so exhausted when I got home that night, I collapsed into bed and ended up sleeping for twelve straight hours. After that, I'd have them a couple times a week, but they gradually tapered off."

"Has it ever happened since then?" she queried.

"Occasionally," he said quietly. "I've noticed it's usually triggered by something that happened that day."

"When was the last time you had it?"

He sighed heavily. "Do you remember last fall, when that kid's father attacked Carter? I pulled him off and ended up crushing his larynx. That night, you found me sitting in here in the dark."

"You told me you couldn't sleep," she commented.

"I couldn't sleep because I'd had the dream again," he admitted quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her voice conveying her disappointment.

"I didn't want you to worry," he said with an apologetic smile. "I knew it would go away, and it did."

She smiled slightly. "I care about you, Mark. Worrying when something's bothering you is part of that package."

"I know," he nodded. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"That's okay. Just don't let it happen again," she said with a small grin.

"I won't," he promised.

"So, is there a light at the end of this tunnel? Will there come a time when I can get through the day without reliving what happened?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yes," he assured her. "You're going to get through this, Elizabeth. And I'll be here, for whatever you need."

After a few moments, she hesitantly asked, "Do you think I should see someone, a therapist or a psychiatrist?"

"Yes, I do," he said. Sighing, he added, "I know that's pretty hypocritical coming from me. I didn't ask anyone for help. I was determined to do it on my own, but the only thing I think I really accomplished was making everything longer and harder on myself."

"Any recommendations?" she asked weakly.

"If you don't mind seeing someone at County, Angela Garcia's one of the best. She's helped a lot of rape victims," he said quietly.

Softly, she said, "Maybe I'll give her a call tomorrow."

"What time are you on?" he wondered.

"Actually, I'm off. I figured I'd just call from here. How about you?" she asked.

"Seven," he replied. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was getting rather late. "I should probably go, let you get some sleep."

She looked at him, and they both knew she wouldn't be getting that much sleep tonight. There was a part of him that wanted to say, to be there for her, to make sure she was all right. But he stopped himself from offering. He didn't want to push, and he knew if she needed help, she had to ask for it in her own way.

"Okay," she nodded as she stood up and walked him to the door.

He put on his coat, and as he was about to leave, she said, "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?" he asked.

"For dinner, and for tonight. I really think it helped," she smiled faintly.

"I'm glad," he said as he reached out and gently caressed her cheek.

"Me, too," she said softly. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

"Kerry signed me up to go to this symposium on emergency medicine in the Twenty-first century next week. There are a couple of journal articles I should read as background, but I've been putting it off. I was thinking about doing that," he replied.

"Could you be persuaded to put it off a little longer?" she asked with a smile.

"Possibly," he grinned back. "What did you have in mind?"

"Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?" she suggested. "I could go to the market tomorrow morning, spend all day cooking and all you'd have to do is act appropriately appreciative."

"I think I can manage that," he smiled. Before he left, he said, "Call me if you need anything. I don't care what time it is."

"I will," she promised as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mark."

"Goodnight," he said softly before turning towards the elevator.

The next day in the ER was relatively slow. With no traumas, and the residents handling the few patients that were coming in, Mark resigned himself to catching up on chart QA. Sitting at the admit desk, he was more than a little surprised when his pager went off.

Unclipping the pager from the waistband of his scrubs, he glanced at the display. 911*5550601. It took a moment for the message to register. That was the phone number for Elizabeth's apartment, and it was marked emergency.

Almost reflexively, he reached for the telephone and dialed the number. He was shocked when a male voice answered, "Hello?"

"This is Mark Greene. I just got an emergency page from this number. Who is this?"

"I'm Officer Sanders, with the Chicago Police Department."

Mark's breath caught in his throat for a moment, before he asked, "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the officer replied, "I can't say."

"Is Elizabeth all right?" Mark asked forcefully.

"I'm sorry, I really can't say," the officer repeated.

"Damn it," Mark swore as he slammed the phone down. Turning to Jerry, he hastily explained, "The police are at Elizabeth's apartment. They won't tell me what's going on. I need to make sure she's okay."

Running into the lounge, he quickly grabbed his coat and keys from his locker, before heading to his car.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thank you for reading, as always. Please let me know what you think! SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

Next on What Will It Take?

SCENE: Mark approaching a police officer in the hallway outside of Elizabeth's apartment.

Voice Over: What happens when the doctor who's used to taking charge faces something that is beyond his control?

Mark: What's going on here?

Officer (blocking the door): I'm sorry, sir. You can't go in there right now.

SCENE: Mark and Elizabeth in her apartment.

Voice Over: Some things may never be the same.

Mark (clearly concerned): You're bleeding. What happened to your neck?

Elizabeth (quietly): I was terrified. I was afraid that I'd never see you again, that I'd die and you would never know just how much I love you.

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