Author's Notes: This was written in approximately half an hour and is based on my own interpretations of different ER women's perspectives on the men around them. I don't know where it came from or why I wrote it, and I apologise if it doesn't make much sense!
Chapter One: "Gunning Down Romance"
Jing-Mei Chen
"Enjoy your day off,"
I said, peeling off and taking a seat on the bench instead.
"Enjoy your coffee,"
He tossed back, flashing me a beguiling, slightly crooked smile. I reveled in the warmth his voice stirred for a moment, before dismissing it.
I watched his back recede out of sight, and considered him thoughtfully. He was the dictionary definition of tall, dark and handsome, every little girls dream. And the little girl in me still found her knees slightly weak when he caught me in his intense, soulful gaze, and nearly melted when he spoke in that lilting, sexy accent he had. A more naïve me would have sold her grandmother for a chance with him, for his physical presence if nothing more.
I, on the other hand, undoubtedly a little bitter through past experience, saw the truth in him. Men that good looking were always a dangerous proposition, and his scars just made him more of one. He couldn't let people close, and I knew anyone who wanted to be with him would have to be stronger than I was. They would have to have strength of character and an unshakeable self-belief in order to get anywhere near him without being irreparably burned by the sheer intensity of his pain.
He was the type that attracted admiring glances in the street, the kind of guy who is both an ego boost and soul destroying. Because you can always see the questions in other peoples eyes 'what is he doing with her?' It's difficult to be with a guy you can't ever live up to. You'll always think he'd rather be with someone more beautiful, someone more confident, someone sexier, anyone who is everything you aren't. He is the trophy boyfriend, at least aesthetically.
And his recent whore like activities? He's turned into a thinking girls Malucci, though he can't see it. It's actually a sign of insecurity, and if he thinks no one knows that then he's wrong.
Malucci. Now there's a name with memories attached. The one person in my life I regret not giving more attention to in all honesty. Damn straight, he was the kind of guy your mother always warned you against – the 'love 'em and leave 'em' kind. But as long as you knew that, it was fine. But while I always dismissed him as below me publicly, privately I knew he was a better person than I will ever be. He had a good heart. How clichéd is that? He just never wore it on his sleeve, the way Kovac and Carter have a tendency to.
After all, weren't we both doctors? And wasn't he doctor on merit, because he'd worked damn hard to escape what I suspect was a difficult childhood, while I was just a doctor cause daddy had enough money to buy me back into medicine.
And as for our private lives, well, we weren't so different there either. Sure, he had a different girl every day of the week and was an incorrigible flirt. But I was the one who landed up pregnant after a one-night stand, and Frank wasn't the first empty encounter I'd had. I thought as a professional woman, I was allowed to mess them around before they did the same to me. I considered many of them as just warm bodies on cold nights. That I hid it, to preserve my reputation, just makes me a hypocrite for sneering at him. At least he was open enough to embrace his sexuality and use it while he could.
I know that when word got out that I was pregnant, people speculated it might be his. I laughed then at the very thought and now here I am regretting the fact I never slept with him. He'd laugh at me now. I know he would.
The right woman will be able to tame him, I think. And though he already has a son, I guess his son's mother just wasn't the right woman. And for all I fought with him and brushed him off, don't think I dismissed the idea maybe I could be that woman, which was why I wanted to be more than a cheap lay to him and why I consistently knocked him back. But he left hating me. And I have to live with the empty fantasy.
I spend so much of my life around the same group of people; I can't help but be flattered when an outsider pays me attention. I'm like any woman – I enjoy being flirted with, I enjoy the possibilities. But that landed me alone and pregnant didn't it?
I don't consider myself a beautiful woman, not on the outside and definitely not on the inside. I know what I look good in and play to my strengths, but I've never considered myself above average. I see all my flaws in the mirror – both external and internal.
I guess I was having a minor confidence crisis when I slept with Frank. I was back in the hospital I'd left in such acrimonious circumstances 5 years beforehand, back in the company of the one man who had always confused me more than any other, and I felt a little out of place.
I ignored Michael until he was a bump, and I could see questions being asked by everyone around. And why? Because I was ashamed. I was from a high class, well-respected Asian family, and I was pregnant by a black man as the result of a one-night stand. I didn't care about Frank's race, but my family would. And I was being judged left, right and centre by people who hardly knew me, including my own mother. I'd worked hard to regain my place in the medical community, and I felt I'd undermined all that hard work and myself by being stupid enough to believe sex would be any comfort to my internal conflict.
And more distressing still was my old friend and rivals part in the pregnancy and birth. He can be unconditional when he wants to, detach completely from outside feelings and factors and concentrate on one person completely. He came and was with me when I gave birth and gave away Michael. He was the only person who was there. And that's why it's so complicated. Because for all our friendly competitiveness, and all our shared experiences, I can feel him distancing from me now he's found the woman I believe is the love of his life. I can barely bear it, because I love that man more than life itself, and I always will. I won't pretend he's perfect, because he's as scarred by life as Luka is, but it doesn't matter. But he has been through things I missed, through things I can barely imagine let alone understand. And that's why I know he can never return how I feel, why I know he never will, and why I know I must keep it to myself. I will love him to the end of time, no matter whom else I find to love it will be with half a heart.
Pratt. A very Dave-like character to begin with, but now I see more of Doug Ross in him. He's certainly got that 'bad boy done good' arrogance about him. I can see myself falling for him, to forget everyone else, and hurting both of us more than I'm ready for. He deserves much better than the half a heart I can give him, but he need never know. He was the one who offered comfort when I was nearly killed. When I saw his eyes as he saw me sitting on the floor, it was a strange reflection of the cold, blank fear I had felt with that gun pressed to my temple, but that was fleeting and replaced by, well, confusion I think. I don't blame Carter, after all Abby is his girlfriend and I'm merely a friend, but I appreciated having someone there. Maybe I'll prove everyone wrong and settle down with him, have a family. Well, he's better than some, bears more than a passing resemblance to my empty fantasy at least character wise, and he'd be a good dad, I think. I suspect him loyal to a fault, and if it's good enough for Carol Hathaway, then it should be good enough for me.
It sounds so clinical, making decisions and judgements this way doesn't it? Well, as a girl I believed in romance, as an adult I don't. It's all about compromising, and trying not to think about the one that got away.
"Penny for them,"
My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar female voice.
"One word. Men,"
I said, sighing heavily and rising from the bench, realizing my break from work and from reality was over. I tossed my empty coffee contained towards the bin, for the first time successful in my aim. I wonder if that's a sign.
Chapter One: "Gunning Down Romance"
Jing-Mei Chen
"Enjoy your day off,"
I said, peeling off and taking a seat on the bench instead.
"Enjoy your coffee,"
He tossed back, flashing me a beguiling, slightly crooked smile. I reveled in the warmth his voice stirred for a moment, before dismissing it.
I watched his back recede out of sight, and considered him thoughtfully. He was the dictionary definition of tall, dark and handsome, every little girls dream. And the little girl in me still found her knees slightly weak when he caught me in his intense, soulful gaze, and nearly melted when he spoke in that lilting, sexy accent he had. A more naïve me would have sold her grandmother for a chance with him, for his physical presence if nothing more.
I, on the other hand, undoubtedly a little bitter through past experience, saw the truth in him. Men that good looking were always a dangerous proposition, and his scars just made him more of one. He couldn't let people close, and I knew anyone who wanted to be with him would have to be stronger than I was. They would have to have strength of character and an unshakeable self-belief in order to get anywhere near him without being irreparably burned by the sheer intensity of his pain.
He was the type that attracted admiring glances in the street, the kind of guy who is both an ego boost and soul destroying. Because you can always see the questions in other peoples eyes 'what is he doing with her?' It's difficult to be with a guy you can't ever live up to. You'll always think he'd rather be with someone more beautiful, someone more confident, someone sexier, anyone who is everything you aren't. He is the trophy boyfriend, at least aesthetically.
And his recent whore like activities? He's turned into a thinking girls Malucci, though he can't see it. It's actually a sign of insecurity, and if he thinks no one knows that then he's wrong.
Malucci. Now there's a name with memories attached. The one person in my life I regret not giving more attention to in all honesty. Damn straight, he was the kind of guy your mother always warned you against – the 'love 'em and leave 'em' kind. But as long as you knew that, it was fine. But while I always dismissed him as below me publicly, privately I knew he was a better person than I will ever be. He had a good heart. How clichéd is that? He just never wore it on his sleeve, the way Kovac and Carter have a tendency to.
After all, weren't we both doctors? And wasn't he doctor on merit, because he'd worked damn hard to escape what I suspect was a difficult childhood, while I was just a doctor cause daddy had enough money to buy me back into medicine.
And as for our private lives, well, we weren't so different there either. Sure, he had a different girl every day of the week and was an incorrigible flirt. But I was the one who landed up pregnant after a one-night stand, and Frank wasn't the first empty encounter I'd had. I thought as a professional woman, I was allowed to mess them around before they did the same to me. I considered many of them as just warm bodies on cold nights. That I hid it, to preserve my reputation, just makes me a hypocrite for sneering at him. At least he was open enough to embrace his sexuality and use it while he could.
I know that when word got out that I was pregnant, people speculated it might be his. I laughed then at the very thought and now here I am regretting the fact I never slept with him. He'd laugh at me now. I know he would.
The right woman will be able to tame him, I think. And though he already has a son, I guess his son's mother just wasn't the right woman. And for all I fought with him and brushed him off, don't think I dismissed the idea maybe I could be that woman, which was why I wanted to be more than a cheap lay to him and why I consistently knocked him back. But he left hating me. And I have to live with the empty fantasy.
I spend so much of my life around the same group of people; I can't help but be flattered when an outsider pays me attention. I'm like any woman – I enjoy being flirted with, I enjoy the possibilities. But that landed me alone and pregnant didn't it?
I don't consider myself a beautiful woman, not on the outside and definitely not on the inside. I know what I look good in and play to my strengths, but I've never considered myself above average. I see all my flaws in the mirror – both external and internal.
I guess I was having a minor confidence crisis when I slept with Frank. I was back in the hospital I'd left in such acrimonious circumstances 5 years beforehand, back in the company of the one man who had always confused me more than any other, and I felt a little out of place.
I ignored Michael until he was a bump, and I could see questions being asked by everyone around. And why? Because I was ashamed. I was from a high class, well-respected Asian family, and I was pregnant by a black man as the result of a one-night stand. I didn't care about Frank's race, but my family would. And I was being judged left, right and centre by people who hardly knew me, including my own mother. I'd worked hard to regain my place in the medical community, and I felt I'd undermined all that hard work and myself by being stupid enough to believe sex would be any comfort to my internal conflict.
And more distressing still was my old friend and rivals part in the pregnancy and birth. He can be unconditional when he wants to, detach completely from outside feelings and factors and concentrate on one person completely. He came and was with me when I gave birth and gave away Michael. He was the only person who was there. And that's why it's so complicated. Because for all our friendly competitiveness, and all our shared experiences, I can feel him distancing from me now he's found the woman I believe is the love of his life. I can barely bear it, because I love that man more than life itself, and I always will. I won't pretend he's perfect, because he's as scarred by life as Luka is, but it doesn't matter. But he has been through things I missed, through things I can barely imagine let alone understand. And that's why I know he can never return how I feel, why I know he never will, and why I know I must keep it to myself. I will love him to the end of time, no matter whom else I find to love it will be with half a heart.
Pratt. A very Dave-like character to begin with, but now I see more of Doug Ross in him. He's certainly got that 'bad boy done good' arrogance about him. I can see myself falling for him, to forget everyone else, and hurting both of us more than I'm ready for. He deserves much better than the half a heart I can give him, but he need never know. He was the one who offered comfort when I was nearly killed. When I saw his eyes as he saw me sitting on the floor, it was a strange reflection of the cold, blank fear I had felt with that gun pressed to my temple, but that was fleeting and replaced by, well, confusion I think. I don't blame Carter, after all Abby is his girlfriend and I'm merely a friend, but I appreciated having someone there. Maybe I'll prove everyone wrong and settle down with him, have a family. Well, he's better than some, bears more than a passing resemblance to my empty fantasy at least character wise, and he'd be a good dad, I think. I suspect him loyal to a fault, and if it's good enough for Carol Hathaway, then it should be good enough for me.
It sounds so clinical, making decisions and judgements this way doesn't it? Well, as a girl I believed in romance, as an adult I don't. It's all about compromising, and trying not to think about the one that got away.
"Penny for them,"
My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar female voice.
"One word. Men,"
I said, sighing heavily and rising from the bench, realizing my break from work and from reality was over. I tossed my empty coffee contained towards the bin, for the first time successful in my aim. I wonder if that's a sign.