Disclaimer: Don't own ER, NBC and TPTB do. Don't sue.
I've lost everything that I ever had when I lost you. I never realized how much I loved you until now; I never realized what you meant to me until this very moment. I hated you, or so I thought, from the moment that I met you, but as I got to know you, I realized how much the cynicism, the sarcasm was a shell. You never let anyone see your true feelings, not until me. You loved me, and I now truly regret not making more of it. You were one of the greatest men that I ever knew. You were an amazing doctor, and an amazing man.
I never realized my feelings until it was too late to change things. I realized what you meant when you first lost your arm. I had to bee there to see you get your arm amputated, because somehow, I felt it was my fault. It was my fault any of this happened. It was my fault that I had to turn you down so many times. I had to be the one that made everything bad, the one that hurt you so many times. You never hurt me once, not in all the years you've known me.
You could be so kind, so nice, so quiet. You're not always the bastard that people make you out to be. Yes, you can be a jerk sometimes, but you could also be one of the sweetest men that I knew. And you were so talented. I should have never let you go, I should have never refused you in the first place. But now I guess it's a little to late to say I'm sorry, it's a little too late to say I'm wrong. Now you're gone, and I have no way to apologize.
I was the only one that came to your funeral, I organized a memorial service for you here at County, and no one bothered to show up. I was the only doctor at your actual funeral; I was the only doctor who even bothered to do anything for you. And I hate them for it, I hate what they did to you. you were the best at what you did, just like I am. The only difference is that you were never afraid to flaunt it. You knew how good you were.
I loved you, and I only just noticed it. Just a few short weeks ago, when you came out of surgery, you told me something that rocked my world. You told me I was beautiful, something that you've told me before, but I never realized how much you meant. But then you told me that you loved me, and I was shocked. I didn't realize anyone could love me anymore, not after Mark, not after all the flings that I've had.
But you still could. All the times I turned you away again and again and again, you never gave up hoping that I would someday be yours. You never stopped wishing that I would love you back; love you the way that you loved me. You never gave up hope for us, and all the times that you asked me out, at least once a month, you never stopped hoping that I would love you, that you wouldn't have to spend another night missing me.
I lost all hope the day I saw that helicopter come down. It was the maniacal revenge seeking helicopter, as some have dubbed it, they crack jokes about how you died. They make fun of that day, they don't realize how important you were, I think only Kerry and I do, because we've taken on all your responsibilities. The only one that feels guilty at all about it is Morris, I suppose because he thinks that he could have saved you, that it was his fault.
And I know that it was that bastard's fault. If he hadn't been out getting stoned, if he hadn't been missing his rotation, you wouldn't have had to go looking for him. if you hadn't had to have chewed him out, you would have already been back inside. There's all these if onlys that could have saved you, that could have meant that we could have had a relationship. If only I had told you that I realized I loved you just days before you died.
I realized I loved you when you said those same words to me. I realized that I felt for you when I knew that I had to scrub in and be there when you were in surgery, that I couldn't trust you to the hands of even the finest surgeon in the entire city without me there to supervise. You wanted me there, and once they knocked you out, I could have left, but I couldn't I waited there, I watched in tense minutes as they did what was a routine procedure.
I should have told you, I should have been there for you, I should have been there with you. I've given up hope. You always had so much of it. Hope's a fickle, finicky thing, and I can't figure out how anyone can keep it for long. But you did. You never stopped hoping about anything, even despite your snarky, sarcastic nature, behind the cynical quips, behind the line after line, quote after quote of insults, you were always the optimist.
You were always the one that never stopped hoping about anything. You believed anything was possible. I wish I had your hope, I wish we had switched places. You wouldn't have stopped hoping things. You wouldn't have stopped hoping that I was alive. You would have thought I narrowly escaped, and every time those hospital doors opened, you'd expect me to be walking in, hair slightly singed, a little banged up, but still perfect in every single way.
But I don't have the hope that you have. I'm hopeless. You're dead, and that's it. You're dead, and I'm left here without anything anymore. You were everything I ever had, and I didn't realize it til it was too late. I loved Mark, but I never realized to what extent. He was platonic love, you were lusty love, you were a love that was fiery, that I wanted, that I lusted after. I loved you, and when I finally decide to vocalize it, it was too late.
I wish I could have your hope, I wish I could have the optimism that you buried under sarcasm. You always had the best hopes going into any surgery; you always had the best hopes in everything. Even with me. You always hoped that you could have a chance with me. I've never had any hope, any optimism. I'm a textbook pessimist. I want your hope; I want to be able to perk up every time those doors open, expecting to hear you insulting everyone you find.
But no, unlike you, I'm hopeless.
I've lost everything that I ever had when I lost you. I never realized how much I loved you until now; I never realized what you meant to me until this very moment. I hated you, or so I thought, from the moment that I met you, but as I got to know you, I realized how much the cynicism, the sarcasm was a shell. You never let anyone see your true feelings, not until me. You loved me, and I now truly regret not making more of it. You were one of the greatest men that I ever knew. You were an amazing doctor, and an amazing man.
I never realized my feelings until it was too late to change things. I realized what you meant when you first lost your arm. I had to bee there to see you get your arm amputated, because somehow, I felt it was my fault. It was my fault any of this happened. It was my fault that I had to turn you down so many times. I had to be the one that made everything bad, the one that hurt you so many times. You never hurt me once, not in all the years you've known me.
You could be so kind, so nice, so quiet. You're not always the bastard that people make you out to be. Yes, you can be a jerk sometimes, but you could also be one of the sweetest men that I knew. And you were so talented. I should have never let you go, I should have never refused you in the first place. But now I guess it's a little to late to say I'm sorry, it's a little too late to say I'm wrong. Now you're gone, and I have no way to apologize.
I was the only one that came to your funeral, I organized a memorial service for you here at County, and no one bothered to show up. I was the only doctor at your actual funeral; I was the only doctor who even bothered to do anything for you. And I hate them for it, I hate what they did to you. you were the best at what you did, just like I am. The only difference is that you were never afraid to flaunt it. You knew how good you were.
I loved you, and I only just noticed it. Just a few short weeks ago, when you came out of surgery, you told me something that rocked my world. You told me I was beautiful, something that you've told me before, but I never realized how much you meant. But then you told me that you loved me, and I was shocked. I didn't realize anyone could love me anymore, not after Mark, not after all the flings that I've had.
But you still could. All the times I turned you away again and again and again, you never gave up hoping that I would someday be yours. You never stopped wishing that I would love you back; love you the way that you loved me. You never gave up hope for us, and all the times that you asked me out, at least once a month, you never stopped hoping that I would love you, that you wouldn't have to spend another night missing me.
I lost all hope the day I saw that helicopter come down. It was the maniacal revenge seeking helicopter, as some have dubbed it, they crack jokes about how you died. They make fun of that day, they don't realize how important you were, I think only Kerry and I do, because we've taken on all your responsibilities. The only one that feels guilty at all about it is Morris, I suppose because he thinks that he could have saved you, that it was his fault.
And I know that it was that bastard's fault. If he hadn't been out getting stoned, if he hadn't been missing his rotation, you wouldn't have had to go looking for him. if you hadn't had to have chewed him out, you would have already been back inside. There's all these if onlys that could have saved you, that could have meant that we could have had a relationship. If only I had told you that I realized I loved you just days before you died.
I realized I loved you when you said those same words to me. I realized that I felt for you when I knew that I had to scrub in and be there when you were in surgery, that I couldn't trust you to the hands of even the finest surgeon in the entire city without me there to supervise. You wanted me there, and once they knocked you out, I could have left, but I couldn't I waited there, I watched in tense minutes as they did what was a routine procedure.
I should have told you, I should have been there for you, I should have been there with you. I've given up hope. You always had so much of it. Hope's a fickle, finicky thing, and I can't figure out how anyone can keep it for long. But you did. You never stopped hoping about anything, even despite your snarky, sarcastic nature, behind the cynical quips, behind the line after line, quote after quote of insults, you were always the optimist.
You were always the one that never stopped hoping about anything. You believed anything was possible. I wish I had your hope, I wish we had switched places. You wouldn't have stopped hoping things. You wouldn't have stopped hoping that I was alive. You would have thought I narrowly escaped, and every time those hospital doors opened, you'd expect me to be walking in, hair slightly singed, a little banged up, but still perfect in every single way.
But I don't have the hope that you have. I'm hopeless. You're dead, and that's it. You're dead, and I'm left here without anything anymore. You were everything I ever had, and I didn't realize it til it was too late. I loved Mark, but I never realized to what extent. He was platonic love, you were lusty love, you were a love that was fiery, that I wanted, that I lusted after. I loved you, and when I finally decide to vocalize it, it was too late.
I wish I could have your hope, I wish I could have the optimism that you buried under sarcasm. You always had the best hopes going into any surgery; you always had the best hopes in everything. Even with me. You always hoped that you could have a chance with me. I've never had any hope, any optimism. I'm a textbook pessimist. I want your hope; I want to be able to perk up every time those doors open, expecting to hear you insulting everyone you find.
But no, unlike you, I'm hopeless.
