What She's Doing Now
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 not making a profit.
Please do not post or redistribute without the disclaimer above, or without the consent of the author.
Feedback is always welcome. I'd really love to know what you think. Please send questions, comments or criticisms to SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com
SUMMARY: After a long day at the hospital, Mark goes home and allows himself to wonder "what if."
BACKGROUND: This story takes place during Season 5, sometime between "The Good Fight" and "Good Luck, Ruth Johnson." The only difference is that asbestos is not being removed from Mark's apartment, so he is staying there and not with Doug and Carol.
Mark Greene sighed as he closed his locker and put on his jacket. It had been a long day, and he was glad to be getting out of the hospital. Doug Ross entered the lounge and gave his friend a curious look.
"Mark? Everything okay?" he asked cautiously.
Mark looked at him and gave a slight smile. "Yeah, fine."
"Carol and I are both off in an hour. Want to get a drink, or something?" he suggested.
"No," he replied, shaking his head, "I think I'm just going to head home."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he smiled again, "but thanks for the offer."
"Anytime. Let me know if you change your mind."
"Sure," he said before turning towards the door. He knew that Doug and Carol were both aware of why he wasn't quite himself today. They were just too nice to mention it. He was lucky to have them as friends.
He walked to the admit desk to sign out. "Lydia? What are you doing her? I thought you and Al had big plans for your anniversary tonight." he asked.
"We did, but Haleh and Conni are both out sick. Carol needed someone to pull an extra shift. She pulled a double yesterday, so it's my turn tonight."
"Sorry," he replied sympathetically.
"It's okay, Al and I are planning to do something tomorrow night. Sort of a belated celebration."
"I hope that goes well," he smiled. "And congratulations. Two years is pretty impressive."
"Thanks," Lydia smiled as she took a chart and headed off to check on a patient.
Mark picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he headed out into the ambulance bay. Looking around, he tried to decide where to go next. He really didn't want to head home. At least not yet. Knowing he'd probably regret it, he made his decision.
Standing across the street, he looked up at the massive structure. Union Station. Had it really been two years since he was last here? It was hard to believe he'd avoided it for that long. He wasn't really sure why he was here now. Somehow, it just seemed like the right place to be.
Crossing the street, he walked towards the entrance. A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he realized he was moving a lot slower than last time. Without really thinking, he made his way down the stairs and through the lobby. First, he walked to Track Ten, then he moved to Track Six.
No trains were waiting to depart. In fact, the place was pretty deserted. He was glad. As he stood there, staring down the track, everything about that afternoon two years ago came rushing back to him. It was almost as if he was watching the entire seen being replayed on film. He felt the sting of tears forming as he remembered what it felt like to realize that she was really leaving. Leaving Chicago. Leaving the hospital. Leaving him. The memory of her warm, soft, tender lips against his made his arms ache to hold her again.
"I love you." Those were the last words she said to him. He'd wanted to hear her say that for so long. But now, it only seemed to make things that much harder.
"Sometimes love just isn't enough, is it?" he asked no one in particular as a few stray tears traced their way down his cheek. He drew in a deep breath of the cold November air before taking one last look down the track.
Half an hour later, he was sitting on the El, aimlessly watching the city pass by, waiting for his stop. Getting off, he went down the stairs and walked the few blocks to his apartment. Going upstairs, he unlocked the door and went inside. He tossed the keys on the table, the jacket on the chair, and the bag on the floor. He'd lived there for two years, but today, it just didn't feel like HIS apartment. Looking around, he couldn't even figure out why. The pictures on the wall were different, he'd changed the arrangement of the furniture, he'd even repainted. But tonight, her presence just seemed to fill the place.
Shaking his head, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. Staring at the ceiling, he finally allowed the tears to fall. He didn't try to hold it back. He'd been doing that for two years. Most of the time, he was able to convince himself that he'd gotten over her. He'd moved on. Not that he really had any other choice. But tonight, he just couldn't keep doing that. It was too hard.
He didn't want to think about what might have been. He tried not to consider where she was now, what she was doing or who she was with. He wanted her to be happy, but he still didn't want to think about her moving on with someone else.
For two years, he'd asked himself if he did the right thing that day. He knew he should have told her how he felt sooner. It was wrong to let her make that decision without knowing everything, without knowing what was still here for her in Chicago. Then again, maybe he should have just let her go. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to the station. Then, at least they'd still be friends.
They hadn't talked since she left. He knew that was his fault, at least partially. He had chances. Doug went to Arizona to see his stepmother's family last year after his father died. He could have gone along, but he didn't. He was too afraid of what he might find. He called directory assistance for her number. It was still on a piece of paper in the top drawer of his desk. He just couldn't pick up the phone and actually dial.
He'd received the obligatory birthday and Christmas cards. He'd even sent ones to her in return. Before he sealed the envelope on each one, he went through the debate a hundred times. Should he mention what happened at the station or not? In the end, it was always too hard to say it, so he just wished her happiness and signed the card. He wondered if she'd gone through the same debate. If so, she must have come to the same conclusion.
It shouldn't be this hard, he thought with a sigh as he continued to stare at the ceiling. We were just friends. We were never a couple.
Then, why does it hurt so much? It's been two years. Why can't I forget about her?
Getting up, he went into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he found the blender and the ingredients for a margarita. After he finished, he took his drink back into the living room. Sitting near the window, he smiled as he took a sip. She'd made some of the worst margaritas in the world. She'd also made some of the best. But nothing he'd tasted since then even seemed to come close.
The phone rang. He considered letting the machine get it, but finally decided against that and got up to answer.
"Hello?"
"Mark? Hi, it's Carol."
"Hi, Carol. How's it going?"
"I'm okay. Doug and I were just wondering if you wanted to join us for a late dinner."
"Thanks for the offer, but I don't really think I'm up for it tonight."
"Sure, maybe some other time." Carol stopped before adding, "Mark, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," he lied. It wasn't like they could do anything to change the way he felt right now. It was easier to just keep this to himself.
"Well, let us know if you need anything," she said in a caring tone.
"I will," he said quietly.
"Bye, Mark."
"Bye," he echoed.
Hanging up the phone, he noticed that there were a couple of messages on the machine. Pressing play, he headed into the kitchen to refresh his drink. The first two messages were hang-ups, but the third caused him to drop the glass he was holding.
"Uh, Mark, hi. It's me. Susan. I know it's been a long time. Too long. I'm not even really sure why I'm calling. It's... well, it's just that I miss you." There was a pause as she tried to decide what to say next. "I'm sorry for everything that happened. I wish I could say this to you, instead of the machine. Well, I guess you're not at home. Or, if you are, you don't want to talk to me. And that's okay. I understand. Well, if you're not at home now and get this message later, give me a call if you want to talk. My number here is 602-555-2855. Bye, Mark."
He walked slowly back into the living room and stared at the machine in disbelief. Pressing play, he listened to the message again. He played it back at least a dozen times before he finally believed that it was real, and not just a figment of his imagination. He couldn't get over the sound of her voice. It sounded so forlorn, almost lost. There was only one other time he'd heard her sound like that. It was the day after Chloe left with Susie. She'd called his apartment that night, just wanting to talk to someone.
He sat back on the sofa and tried to decide what to do next. Should he call her back? He knew how hard it must have been for her to make that call. He knew it wouldn't be right not to call her back, but he wasn't sure what he should say if he did. He turned the phone over and over in his hands, trying to make a decision.
Susan Lewis finished washing the last of the dishes and turned the light off in the kitchen. Walking into the bedroom, she fell back onto her bed. Glancing sideways, she looked at the clock. It'd been two and a half hours since she made the call.
What was I thinking? I should have just left well enough alone. He's probably moved on by now. He's probably seeing someone else. I'm the last person in the world he wants to hear from. That's why he hasn't called back.
Two years. Had it really been that long? Sometimes it felt like it happened yesterday. She still remembered every detail.
It wasn't until the instant she'd stepped on the train that she realized she truly loved him. She leaned out of the train and told him, but she wasn't sure if he heard her. Even if he did, she wasn't sure he understood.
In a way, she'd always regretted the decision to get on the train that day. She left behind her best friend, the one person who knew her better than anyone else. She knew she broke his heart when she left, but what she was just now starting to realize was that she broke her own, too.
She had a good job in Phoenix. It was less stressful than County, the money and the hours were better. She even found herself enjoying the role of Susie's aunt. She would baby-sit and they would go for walks in the park, play games or read storybooks. It was nice not having to worry about providing everything for Susie herself. Joe and Chloe had built a good life, and Susie was lucky to have a mother, a father and an aunt who all adored her.
The only area she had for complaint was her social life. She lost count of the number of blind dates she went on. She had a few steady boyfriends. For the most part, they were pretty nice guys, but she ended all of those relationships eventually. If anyone asked, she would just say that things weren't working out. She never told anyone, not even Chloe, the truth. She knew that none of the guys she dated would ever run halfway across the city, trying to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Not a single one came close when compared to him.
She knew she should be over him. They never dated, they were never even couple. And it was her choice to leave. But no one she'd met since then had the same affect on her. No one knew her that well. Maybe that was her fault. Maybe she just wouldn't let anyone that close because she never wanted to go through this kind of pain again.
She wondered how things might have been different if he'd said something sooner. She hated to admit it, but she knew that if he'd said something before she left the hospital that day, she would have stayed. Long before she even considered moving to Phoenix, she wondered what would happen if they started dating. She never acted on it because she was afraid of losing her best friend in the process. Not to mention the fact that she was never sure if he felt the same way, at least not until the end.
Most of the time, though, she wouldn't allow herself to think about him. It was too difficult to think about what might have been. If only she had the courage to be honest with herself that day... Well, things could have been a lot different. But that wasn't possible anymore. She moved away, and he moved on. She had no one to blame but herself.
She occasionally considered moving back to Chicago and trying to salvage what was left of their relationship. She could never bring herself to take that leap and actually do it. She was too afraid of what she might find if she went back. They hadn't spoken in two years. They exchanged Christmas and birthday cards, but that was it. After the way she hurt him, she knew she had no right to expect anything from him. As bad as things were now, she knew it was better than being in the same city and knowing that he wanted nothing to do with her. She just couldn't take that.
She continued to stare at the ceiling, and for the first time since those first few weeks in Phoenix, she allowed the tears to fall. She thought about all of the times they spent together. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers in that one brief, passionate, explosive kiss they shared before her train pulled away. She allowed herself to dream of what their lives would have been like together. It was a dream that comforted her, yet tore her heart apart because she knew it would never become a reality.
She turned over onto her stomach, and buried her face in the pillow to absorb the sound of her sobs.
When she glanced at the clock again, she was surprised to find that nearly two hours had passed. "Must have fallen asleep," she thought to herself. "I didn't realize I was that tired."
She headed towards the kitchen to get a drink. Walking through the living room, she noticed the light on her answering machine. Pressing play, she continued towards the kitchen, but the voice that filled the room forced her to stop in her tracks.
"Susan, hi. It's Mark. I got your message, and I-I just wanted to say that I miss you, too. I was hoping we could talk, but it looks like you're not in. Wouldn't you know, the first time we try to talk in two years, we end up playing phone tag. If you feel like it, give me a call later. Since you already called, I guess you've got the number. Bye."
He called?! When did he call? Rechecking the answering machine, she realized that the call came in about an hour ago. How could I have slept through that??!! She looked at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. That meant it was twelve-thirty in Chicago. Should I call him now, or wait until tomorrow?
"If you wait, you know you won't do it," a tiny voice reminded her.
"But I don't want to wake him up. What if he has to be at work early tomorrow?"
"He did say that he wanted to talk to you."
She knew she'd lose her nerve if she waited. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to be working overtime, but a smile slowly spread across her face as she picked up the phone.
THE END
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