A/N: I never did like the way things were left at Union Station. I got this idea while watching reruns on TNT, and have a good idea of where I want to go with it. I haven't written much, but I thought I'd give it a shot. I'd love to get feedback, so please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Mark or Susan or any of the characters here. They belong to ER, NBC, and the other PTB.
Set about a year after Union Station…sort of AU.
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Mark Greene stood at the admit desk, his shoulders slumped as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
It had been a long shift. Two MVAs and a gang shootout had sent the ER into a whirlwind that afternoon.
"Hey Mark," Doug walked over to where his friend was standing, flipping through a chart, "How about we get a couple of drinks tonight? Ya know, we can try out that uh, that new place over on 48th."
Mark turned slowly, still looking defeated, "I don't think so. I think I'm just gonna go home and contemplate the pathetic mess my life has become. And get some sleep." With that he put his glasses back on and headed towards the lounge.
Doug watched him head down the hall, "No luck?" he heard a voice behind him.
"Nope" he sighed as Carol joined him at the desk.
"It's been almost a year"
"I know"
"This isn't getting any easier"
"I know"
"So what are we going to do?"
"I don't know"
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He stared at the reflections in the windows of the El train as it moved through the darkness. The older women to his left, knitting, the two men standing to his right. He sat in silence, just wanting to be home, in his bed, sleeping, alone.
He climbed the stairs to his building, unlocked the door, and opened his mailbox. As he pulled out a couple of bills and a few coupon catalogs, he noticed something else wedged a little farther in. A thick cream envelope addressed in italics.
Dr. Mark Greene
He turned it over for the return address.
17 Amberly Drive
Phoenix, AZ
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A thousand thoughts ran screaming through his mind, but two words stood out among the chaos, "Phoenix…Susan". He turned the envelope over in his hands as he approached the door to his place. Well, her place. Her old place…he had never been able to shake the feeling that she was still there sometimes. That he would open the door and find her sitting on the couch, watching tv…reading.
He put his stuff down on the table and collapsed into a nearby chair. He ran his hands over the embossed paper one last time before sliding the flap open. Inside were 2 pieces of cardstock, the first of which read
Mr. John Cartwright and Dr. Susan Lewis
Request the honor of your presence as they celebrate their marriage
On the 23rd of September in the year Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Seven
At four-o'-clock in the afternoon
St. Mary's Cathedral
Phoenix, Arizona
Reception to follow at Saddlebrook Country Club