All right…so this is kind of AU because Michael is way out of character, but still, I thought it would make an interesting plot. This fic deals with why women choose to stay in an abusive relationship…just kind of popped into my head.

Disclaimer: Don't own ER or the characters, never have never will…

Everyone always wonders why we stay. Why we don't simply walk out the door. I used to wonder it myself when women came into the ER bruised and bleeding…claiming to have tripped down the steps or some equally transparent cover up.

My father told me once that if any man ever laid a hand on me then to get out of there right then. If a man did it once then he would do it again. He told me in an indirect manner that they would always be there to take me back, that my other relatives would be there to help. That my friends would be there to support me.

My father said that once it starts there is no love any longer. What love there was is gone. He didn't understand.

I thought that it was ridiculous for him to tell me all of this. What were the chances that it would happen to me…I thought myself smarter than that. There was no way in hell that I would end up with a man who would commit such crimes.

People change…

War changes people.

It doesn't matter whether or not it's a noticeable change. Sometimes they don't seem changed at all but it's there. Then there are those where the changes are more noticeable. Physical changes, changes in personality. Some become more sober, some more nervous, some more caring. Some however…some change for the worst. But who are we to judge them…we don't know what they went through…

IT first happened a few weeks after he returned for good. We were arguing over some unimportant nonsense, it got a little heated, and the next thing I knew I was sprawled on the floor. Lifting my fingers to my lips I felt a slick stickiness and immediately he began apologizing. I accepted it; I wanted to help him through his pain and what he'd been through. All I wanted to do was to help him. I loved him.

The next time IT happened I had more than a bloody lip. I came into the ER the next day to find Ray and Abby staring fixatedly at my cheek and then let their eyes wander slowly over my arms. I wore long sleeves after that.

When they asked me what had happened I found myself giving the same excuses I had heard before. The steps were slippery from the rain and my foot slid out from under me. They didn't buy it.

IT continued to happen. He started to drink, would fly into rages, and I stayed. I loved him. Or at least I told myself I did.

He said that he loved me.

It became harder to come into work. Ray kept trying to pry it out of me, but I couldn't give up Michael. One time he even cornered me in an empty exam room and told me that he knew what was going on. I told him he was an ignorant prat and had no idea.

Abby threatened to go to the police…I explained to her my side of the story and told her that he was improving.

I loved him.

He said he loved me.

I suppose that when I came into the ER as a patient rather than a doctor I should have realized that it was time to leave. By then it was too late. I was so blinded by my 'love' and by my guilt and by the belief that I could help him that I couldn't.

Ray was the one who treated me. I thought he would have a heart attack. He was gentle, spoke to me, and tried to get me to see reason. I wondered then why I didn't go with Ray. I had a chance I suppose. Then Michael came back and my chance was gone and it was too late. I had a husband to love.

I think that Ray would have gone to my apartment as soon as he was finished with me and would've beat the hell out of Michael. If I hadn't stopped him that is. I don't know how I did it but I managed to convince him not to. It involved lots of sobbing and sniffling and hugging.

I'm pretty sure that after that incident everyone in the ER was ready to kill Michael. Luka and Pratt both came in to see me. I received from them a long lecture on how I needed to get out while I still had a chance. It was past time to get out…

I keep telling myself that I love him, that I can help him, and that we can get through it. That's why we stay.

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