Summary: Another torturous week in the Camden family home

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None: Basically AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the ER characters, but Christmas is right around the corner......

Author's Notes: Ah, here it is. Another chapter in the deranged minds of the ever familiar Camden's. I decided to do a couple of POV's with a couple of the kids, Eric, and supermom, Annie. Ruthie's part was the hardest for me to do. I hope I got inside her head well enough. Please review and tell me what you think. I love the feedback and take all suggestions into consideration. (Thanks to all who have reviewed, you all are wonderful!)

When Heaven Weeps: Part Six

Two weeks. Two long weeks. Two weeks lived in hell. Two weeks that neither of the family members wanted to remember, let alone revisit. The sky had fallen in, and there was no one to replace it.

Enter POV of Simon

I rock Elizabeth to sleep in my arms, her heavy eyes slowly drooping closed, her mouth slightly parted. Her breathing becomes regular and I lean back into the couch cushions, reveling in the small pleasure of rest. It had become scarce in the past weeks.

I listen to the quiet house, the quiet house that no one seemed to live in anymore. Matt never came around anymore, not even for the laundry and food. His excuse was school and work, finals were coming up, he had to study. I may only be twelve years old, but I know when my brother's lying.

I hardly ever see Mary anymore as well. She stays away from the house as much as she can. Basketball, schoolwork, and her new job at Pete's Pizza are her answers to, "Where've you been?"

Lucy's here. She just doesn't talk. Her red rimmed eyes tell enough of the story. Of course, crying is Lucy's nature, but this time, her sobs are different, they're muffled, muted, as if she doesn't want anyone to actually know she's crying. But I know.

Ruthie continues on as any five-year-old would do. She remains in her position of playing with her stuffed animals, talking with imaginary friend, Huey. Maybe she'll get through this without any damage. Can't say the same for the rest of us though.

I'm scared.

End Simon's POV: Enter Eric's POV

The hanging clock above my head ticks incessantly, the seemingly high pitched noise grating on my ears. I rest my elbows on the desk in front of me, placing my head between my hands and tenderly massaging my temples.

The phone lays before me.

It catches my eye as I open my pupils, the white electronic device boldly staring back at me.

I pick it up. I need to do something.

I drop it down on the desk, the clattering sound jarring my ceasing headache. I can't do this. Not to my wife. Not to Annie..

I take it back in my hands, slowly turning it over, as if inspecting its make. But we can't go on like this. Not anymore. We're not even a family anymore.

I start to slowly dial the number burned forever in my mind. We're broken. I need to fix this. I have to.

"Hello?"

I run my rough tongue over chapped lips, wincing as I did so.

"Hello?"

The voice uttered the greeting once again, I bitterly swallowed the large lump that had formed in my throat, the work of doing it pained me.

"Morgan."

I could almost hear his quizzical expression as he asked,

"Eric? Is that you?"

I nod to myself, even if only in the empty room.

"Yeah, it's me."

His tone was replaced from quizzical to concern.

"Everything okay?"

I close my eyes, wondering if I'd ever see 'okay' again.

"Patricia told me about Annie, I'm so sorry. I meant to call, I wanted to call....we just weren't sure."

A sigh escapes my lips before I can control it, I open my eyes, finding it hard to remove them from their closed position.

"We named him Evan Samuel."

A pause.

"It's a very suitable name."

Nodding again, I pick up the stray pen that lay on top of a book that Morgan himself had loaned me. Playing with the pen, I speak,

"Simon picked it."

I can see him nod in appreciation, and understanding.

"Simon did a fine job. How is he? How are the kids?"

I ignore his inquiry and plod on,

"Annie was against it."

Another pause. He was refreshing his mind, trying to place what I was telling him.

"The name?"

I shake my head, trying not to let annoyance get a hold of me.

"Simon picking it."

I click the pen on, then off, back to on, back to off. The noise the only apparent sound in the small office.

"Annie let it go though?"

I shrug, not caring if anyone saw his body movements. Then again, no one was around.

"I suppose."

I jab the pen into a open book, its long streak glaring up from the crisp, white paper. Screaming.

"How is Annie?"

I sit up. His tone was different. Softer, gentler, more suspicious, but trying to get the facts without letting me on to knowing he wanted the facts. I stop reasoning with myself.

"Annie who?"

Morgan sighs. His sighs are often short, wanting to get over with. This one on the other hand was long and drawn out, he was picking his words carefully.

"She showing signs of post-partoum depression?"

I can't swallow anymore. The lump has grown into a mountain. A mountain I can't climb. Not successfully.

"Eric?"

I blink and look at my surroundings. The office where I counseled countless people, hugged hundreds of heartbroken parties, had several fights with numerous members of my own family. The place where I had read about, studied about, prayed too, talked to- God. A place I didn't know anymore.

"I don't know."

I hear a rustling, he was either sitting down or standing up. Neither could be best.

"What has her behavior been like these past few weeks?"

There. Something I knew I answer right. But none of this was right. None of this should be happening.

"Upset, cries instantaneously, trouble sleeping, withdrawn, losing weight, spaced out, I could go on and on, Morgan. But most of all, she wants nothing to do with Elizabeth. It's like she's shunned her."

I can hear Morgan draw in a deep breath, yet again choosing his words wisely.

"She needs help, Eric."

I shake my head, my mind swimming with a million thoughts. Like a runaway train, having nowhere to go, except downhill.

"Maybe she needs some time, give it a couple more days, weeks?"

More rustling. He was standing now, I can tell. Most likely gripping the countertop as his knuckles turn white. His voice changed once more,

"No, Eric."

I stop my mouth from opening. It was a command, not a matter of obeying or not. I obey.

"Annie needs help. It'll only get worse if it goes untreated. I'm not a doctor by any means, but I do know one thing: Things can't continue on like this. You're digging yourself a hole, and you're going to end up being buried alive."

I hang my head, slightly gasping for breath.

"Okay."

Another change in tone of voice.

"Tell me you are going to call a doctor and get her some help."

I shiver and grasp the phone tighter,

"Okay, so tired though, tomorrow, so tired."

I sounded like a little boy, helpless, clueless. I was basically that little boy.

"Today, Eric, today."

I attempt to regulate my breathing and bob my head, ashamed.

"Today."

"Call me as soon as you can. If you need anything, call. I'm only a phone call away."

He wanted to know this outcome. Maybe if I'd be coherent enough to register certain things, I would've thought he was being nosy, pushing his nose into other people's business.

But I called him.

He gave me the push.

"I'm worried, Morgan."

Silence.

I sag against the back of the chair, out of breath.

"I know."

End Eric's POV: Enter Ruthie's POV

I open my eyes really quick, and really wide. Simon calls them "spy eyes". I like my spy eyes, they help me see everything. I look around the room with my spy eyes. Simon says once I've had them for a long enough time, I'll see everything in red. Just like Red Lightning.

I push off my covers, they're getting too sticky for me. I sit up and slip on my Hello Kitty slippers. At night was the best time to see "weird things" as Simon tells me. I flatten to the floor, peering out the space between the floor. I see light. I grin.

I stand up and open the door, I look both ways. I laugh out loud and clamp a hand over my mouth. I sound like I'm crossing the street. I walk towards the stairs, ready to go down and eat a cookie. Mommy's light is still on. I grin.

I run into her room and see her buried under covers. I climb into bed with her. She misses me.

"Hi mommy."

I hear her moan and she waves her hand around, I laugh some more.

"Go away."

I go up closer to her and lay my head on the pillow beside her, crossing my legs and setting my arms behind my head.

"Time to play, mommy."

She rolls over and I kiss her nose.

"Bedtime."

I shake my head really hard, maybe if I shake too hard, it'll come off. Cool!

"Mommy wants to play."

I nod and grab her hand.

"Mommy wants to sleep."

I tug some more.

"No, mommy wants to play with Ruthie."

She takes her hand away hard.

"Mommy doesn't want to play with Ruthie."

I feel my smile going away, I love mommy. I want to play.

"Mommy misses Ruthie, that's why she wants to play."

Mommy's head comes up fast, her eyes look funny. I back away into the headboard behind me.

"Mommy doesn't miss Ruthie, and mommy doesn't want to play!"

Mommy yelled at me. I feel my eyes watering, then the tears fall down onto my cheeks. I bite my wiggling lip and run out of there. Maybe Mommy doesn't love Ruthie anymore.

To be continued..............................................................