DISCLAIMER: I do not own the ER characters, no matter how much I wish I did. However, the plots are all mine. Please do not sue me.



SUMMARY: Kind of an alternate universe type thing. This is written as if all of the ER characters were children or teenagers at the same time, living in the same neighborhood in Chicago. Also, I don't think that all of the characters ages really line up correctly with how old they should be during the year 1978. Bear with me.



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CHAPTER ONE: ELIZABETH

I live in London, a city which far surpasses any other city. Ever. So when my father told me we were going on vacation to Chicago, I was none too pleased. What would I want with a bunch of Yanks? And anyway, it was not at all a true vacation. We were merely going to the far away city because of a medical convention of some sort for my father.

I personally was not at all interested. It was summer, and I had dreams of trips to the Mediterranean with my best friend Renee. But instead, I would be spending over a month in a place that wasn't even on an ocean. What would summer be without going to the beach?

My father tried to cheer me up. "We're going to rent a house. It won't be like a dirty hotel for that long. We'll be in a neighborhood. You'll make friends. You might not even want to leave!" He told me. None of it made me feel any better.

I prepared myself for the worst. I expected 120 degree weather, old houses, and dirty children.

We found the rented house easily enough. Located on Laurel Street, it was a nice, new house. While not exactly big, it was a decent size for the two of us for a month. And to my surprise, the weather was not 120 degrees, though it did feel close some days.

I did, however, see quite a few dirty children. From my second floor bedroom window, I could plainly see quite a few children playing in the street below. They all looked sweaty and gross to me, especially since I was so used to boarding schools where all the children much be kept clean.

Eventually, my father forced me to go outside, stating that I was making him miserable by seeing my gloomy face for so long.

So I did go outside. I sat on the kerb to watch a game of basketball that was being played by some boys in the driveway next to ours. The boys were all perhaps a few years older than me, but it was more fun to watch them than to watch the younger children playing with jump-ropes and yoyos in the street.

I began to get bored, so I didn't notice when a basketball came bouncing towards me. It hit me in the head, and I jumped, startled. A taller boy, striking to say the least, came loping over to retrieve it. "I'm sorry," he said, "At least you stopped the ball!" He chuckled. I glared at him. Being hit in the head with a large, orange object was not my cup of tea.

He noticed me glaring at him, and a goofy grin lit up his face. "Really, I'm sorry. I'm not the loser who can't keep his hands on the ball, anyway. That was Peter who let it hit you. Apology accepted?" He asked, his brown eyes dancing.

I scowled. "Fine." I said, turning to walk away, back inside away from the crazy boys.

The boy caught my hand as I turned to leave. "Hey, wait. You're new here. I can tell from your accent that you came from far away. To make up for this, how about I show you around some?" He looked so anxious that I would say yes.

I stalled. "I don't even know your name."

"Mark. I'm Mark Greene, at your service." He shook my hand.

"I'm Elizabeth." I told him. He really did seem apologetic about the ball incident, and his eyes were so striking. And his hands so strong and manly, even though he couldn't be but a year or two older than me. And his dark, wavy hair was so beautiful. And his lips, the way the bottom one stuck out just a little bit. And- - -

He cut off my line of thought. "So? You want the grand tour of the neighborhood?"

I finally smiled a real smile at him. "Okay. I'd like that."

A round of clapping started immediately after I agreed. I then realized the other boys were still there.

Mark grinned sheepishly and turned to face them. "Sorry, guys, I'll catch up later, okay?" The other guys nodded and waved as Mark lead me away.

"So, where are you from?" He asked me.

"London," I told him. Then the awkward silence began.

We walked without talking for several minutes. To pass the time, Mark began pointing out houses.

"That's the Malucci house. They've got four kids. The oldest is about 11, and the youngest is 6. That's the Ross house. My best friend Doug lives there. That's the Lewis house. They have two kids, both girls. That's the Romano house. They only have one kid, and he's older and really crabby. That's the Weaver house. They've got a couple of kids and one's a crip." The tour went on. He pointed out the houses and named who lived in each one on our street. By the time we were done, we had both gotten to be more friendly with each other. The awkward silenced were over, and we were laughing and talking.

We returned to my house, and Mark and I stood there in the driveway, looking at each other. "Bye," I said. It seemed so inadequate.

"Bye." He whispered to me. He leaned towards me, and we kissed. The kiss was short, but I still felt a plethora of emotions rush through my insides. We both broke away and I ran to my house. I felt so embarrassed. It was my first kiss. What if he really doesn't like me? I mean, the kiss was over so fast. If he really did like me, wouldn't it have lasted longer?

I ran inside, tearful, hoping that he didn't hate me after my poor showing.