Author's Note, 9-8-03: Well, here I go with my third ER fic endeavor. I'm
switching gears this time and making Susan the main character, so bear with
me as I get used to writing from her point of view. The story is set right
after season 9, so it's possible there will be spoilers for that season but
none for season 10. You know I don't own the characters - at least not
until later on when I add new people and a bunch of other stuff happens
that you don't need to know about yet.
~For Dorothy, a kindred spirit~
"Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood. Do not let it grieve you, no one leaves for good." - the Baker's Wife [Into the Woods]
*
Chapter 1: "Desperately Seeking Susan"
Susan Lewis was not a tasteful sleeper. She had been an energetic child, always restless, even in sleep, and never quite outgrew the fitful tossing and turning that left her hair in intricate knots, her arms and legs splayed at odd angles, and gave her pajamas a rumpled, sideways look that made her seem off balance, or ready to jump into action at any moment. Her mouth, she was told, often gaped open in a most unattractive manner. Pillows and sheets were obstacles to be tossed aside on the rare occasions when sleep was deep enough to allow for dreaming.
In fact, the last remaining pillow on her bed had just been flung overboard and landed with a faint plop on the discarded sheet below. She was too hot. The open bedroom window wasn't doing its job, nor was the rickety box fan that whirred in the corner; on the contrary, both seemed intent to spread the muggy night air on even thicker, aiding Chicago's monster heat wave in turning Susan's apartment into a gigantic oven. Perspiring and drugged by the heat, she was oblivious to the outside world and looked it as she briefly interrupted her own light snoring to bat an unpleasantly sticky tangle of blond hair away from her face.
If she hadn't worked so late into the evening and come home exhausted or if she'd been sleeping just a little less soundly, she might have detected how unusual it was to hear a car door - a second echoed the first almost immediately - slamming at 3:17am on an otherwise silent street. She might have stuck her finger under a slat in the venetian blinds and lifted it to have a peek at who was invading her neighborhood at such an ungodly hour. She wouldn't have been able to see clearly in the moonlight, but the shadowy figure, despite its abnormal bulk, probably would have looked familiar as it clomped gracelessly up the front steps and entered her building.
And maybe Susan did sense something out of the ordinary while she lay there damp with sweat and lost in a perplexing dream where she was both doctor and patient and everyone in the ER had gathered to laugh at her while she tried to intubate herself, because her frequent sighs and twitching muscles abruptly ceased. Down the hall someone was searching for the name LEWIS on a row of numbered mail slots.
There was a momentary bustle on the other side of her apartment door, but Susan either heard none of it or simply incorporated it into her semi- nightmare and did not stir. It could have been a man or a woman concealed beneath the shabby clothes, greasy hair and baseball cap, but there was something distinctly feminine - almost motherly - about the movements as this person lowered their body and freed themselves of the bulk, which turned out to be a child clutching a dirty Powerpuff Girls backpack and a starry-eyed doll, that had weighed them down.
"Give this to her," said a nervous voice, thrusting forward a twitchy hand that held a folded slip of paper. The child took it and nodded, though of the two the doll looked wider awake, its plastic eyelids blinking only once as it was situated in its owner's slender arms.
"What if she ain't home?" Though groggy, the child's question was prepared and urgent.
"She will be." Whether 'will be' meant now or later was unclear, and no further explanation was offered. With a swiftness that would have frightened an edgier child, the grim face beneath its baseball cap swooped down and placed a rough kiss on the little girl's forehead. "Knock loud."
"Wait," the child fumbled with her doll a bit longer than necessary, finally holding it up by one leg, "you didn't kiss Bernadette."
"Oh, beg your pardon, Bernie. Mwah." Playful as the gesture was, it felt very out of place in the scarcely lit hallway at three in the morning. "Love ya, sweetie pete."
The little girl's forced smile faded as she watched her companion barreling towards the door that led to the street. She thought about following on tiptoe and attempting to sneak into the backseat of their car, but that required more energy than she had. The longer she stood outside Susan Lewis's apartment, the more welcoming and safer it seemed. Food and a place to sleep waited on the other side.
Cradling Bernadette against her chest, the girl crumpled the note into her fist and tried to make her first knock quiet and loud at the same time. She accomplished this by barely grazing her knuckles against the wooden door, then giving it two firm raps. She winced as the sound echoed through her empty, unknown surroundings. "Maybe you better try, Bernadette," she whispered, positioning one of the doll's flexible arms so it resembled a miniature traffic cop's, palm out to stop vehicles. Cautious not to bump Bernadette's head, the girl slowly rocked the doll back and forth, patting its tiny plastic hand against the door.
Susan was gagging on the endotracheal tube, sweat trickling into her eyes to mingle with the tears of frustration that were forming there. She couldn't understand why everyone was laughing at her. Not only laughing - now they were pounding on the trauma room doors, howling with delight at her predicament. Some of the nurses had started a chant. Susan blocked out the ruckus as best she could, but it just grew increasingly louder until finally all she could concentrate on was the hammering in her ears, the nurses crying, "Aunt Susan, Aunt Susan!"
"Stop!" The sound of her own voice woke Susan up. Disoriented, she gazed at the ceiling and wondered why she was no longer in the ER. Her hands flew to her mouth and touched only parched lips. Just a dream, she told herself. Thank God. No more spicy foods before bedtime.
Already half-asleep again, she was debating the importance of getting up to pee and had decided she could hold it till morning because the bathroom was too far away, when a feeble tapping noise cut through the steadily humming fan. It would have gone unnoticed, but seconds later a small, timid voice called, "Aunt Susan?"
Susan made it out of bed in record time. Swear words accompanied each step as she rushed blindly through the dark and managed to collide with most of the furniture in her sparsely decorated apartment. She was hunched over, rubbing at the throbbing kneecap that had been assaulted by a forgotten coffee table, when she swung the front door open and came face to face with a rosy-cheeked, kinky-haired doll. And a slight girl whose wide hazel eyes were obscured by a fringe of bangs badly in need of trimming.
"Suzy." For a moment it was all Susan could think of to say as she stared at her niece and silently compiled a list of reasons for this surprise visit. None of them were good. Her older sister had pulled too many stupid stunts in the past. "Hi. What's going on? Where's Chloe?"
"She's... gone." Suzy hesitated long enough to glance over her shoulder, then remembered her mother's note. "Oh, here. We're supposed to give this to you. It's from her." She balanced the wad of paper in her upturned palm, wishing she hadn't wrinkled it so, even if it had been folded crookedly beforehand.
Susan had a general idea of how the note would read ("Sorry to do this to you, Big Suzy, but can you take care of my kid while I go piss my life away on drugs..."), but she plucked it gently from her niece's hand, smoothed out the creases and forced herself to read each line carefully, her lips mouthing the words. Chloe was suffocating, it said. She couldn't think, she couldn't sleep. She needed to get away, just for a short while. An eight- year-old girl would be excess baggage. Please play surrogate mother until things are straightened out. Yeah, like last time, only no one gets hurt now - promise. Thanks, Suz. You're the best.
"Can we come in?"
"We?" Acting in a daze, her eyes still scanning Chloe's oversized print, Susan stepped aside and cupped a hand behind Suzy's head, leading the little girl into the apartment. This was every bit as dreamlike as the intubation scare, maybe even more so. At least during sleep any situation you encountered felt like an ordinary occurrence. It was during your waking hours that the real nightmares happened.
"Me and Bernadette. She's sort of a doll, but she's really my friend," Suzy explained, trailing her backpack along the floor and letting it bump against her heels, a plop-plop sound following each step. Her flimsy sandals were a size too small and the frayed leather straps were giving out on the sides. In one quick sweep Susan's observant gaze took in everything else, from Suzy's faded jean shorts and striped tank top to the toothy grinning face of Bernadette, who appeared better groomed than her owner. The doctor in Susan looked for signs of malnutrition or other problems, but Suzy's health seemed to be in better shape than her clothing.
Actually, it was like looking at an eight-year-old replica of herself or Chloe, Susan thought. Suddenly stricken by the impulse to hug her niece, she crouched to the girl's level and pulled her close. "I missed you so much, Suzy Q," she sighed, poised on the balls of her feet as she let go and flashed a genuine smile, her eyes glossier than they had been seconds ago. She fussed with Suzy's lank hair, brushing a few sweaty strands behind her ear. "How've you been? Doing okay?"
"Uh-huh." Suzy shrugged. "I missed you too. I been telling Bernadette all about you and she's been dying to meet you. She's real glad we're here because she don't like riding in the car very much, and she's starving and ready to go back to sleep. She don't like waking up when it's still dark out."
"I don't blame her one bit." Susan stifled a yawn and glanced at the digital clock on her VCR. Three thirty-six. What the hell was Chloe thinking leaving a child alone in a strange place at this hour? At any hour? Oh wait, never mind. Chloe COULDN'T think.
Sighing heavily, Susan stood and contemplated what to do next. She had to work this morning and it was way too early to call for a sitter. Worse yet, she didn't even know any sitters to begin with. And Suzy didn't need to be passed off to some stranger right now, anyway. Tired and at a loss for ideas, Susan regarded her niece uncertainly, as if the little girl might have some suggestions. And she did.
"Do you got cereal? Kix or something?" Suzy asked hopefully. "Kix is Bernadette's favorite."
"Well, you're in luck, Bernadette." Susan turned towards the kitchen and motioned for Suzy to follow. "I just bought a box of Berry Berry Kix the other day. They're my favorite too."
Barely three spoonfuls of Kix had disappeared from Suzy's bowl by the time she fell asleep sitting up. Susan left the cereal where it was and carried her exhausted niece to the bedroom, her own thoughts in a kind of sleepy haze. She wanted to concentrate on the spot Chloe had put her in, to feel the full extent of the anger and disgust she'd repressed for Suzy's sake. But her mind wouldn't focus and her eyes followed suit. The last thing Susan saw before she dozed off was Suzy sprawled carelessly at her side, Bernadette tucked under one arm, blond hair tumbling across the mattress, and lips parted ever so slightly.
~For Dorothy, a kindred spirit~
"Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood. Do not let it grieve you, no one leaves for good." - the Baker's Wife [Into the Woods]
*
Chapter 1: "Desperately Seeking Susan"
Susan Lewis was not a tasteful sleeper. She had been an energetic child, always restless, even in sleep, and never quite outgrew the fitful tossing and turning that left her hair in intricate knots, her arms and legs splayed at odd angles, and gave her pajamas a rumpled, sideways look that made her seem off balance, or ready to jump into action at any moment. Her mouth, she was told, often gaped open in a most unattractive manner. Pillows and sheets were obstacles to be tossed aside on the rare occasions when sleep was deep enough to allow for dreaming.
In fact, the last remaining pillow on her bed had just been flung overboard and landed with a faint plop on the discarded sheet below. She was too hot. The open bedroom window wasn't doing its job, nor was the rickety box fan that whirred in the corner; on the contrary, both seemed intent to spread the muggy night air on even thicker, aiding Chicago's monster heat wave in turning Susan's apartment into a gigantic oven. Perspiring and drugged by the heat, she was oblivious to the outside world and looked it as she briefly interrupted her own light snoring to bat an unpleasantly sticky tangle of blond hair away from her face.
If she hadn't worked so late into the evening and come home exhausted or if she'd been sleeping just a little less soundly, she might have detected how unusual it was to hear a car door - a second echoed the first almost immediately - slamming at 3:17am on an otherwise silent street. She might have stuck her finger under a slat in the venetian blinds and lifted it to have a peek at who was invading her neighborhood at such an ungodly hour. She wouldn't have been able to see clearly in the moonlight, but the shadowy figure, despite its abnormal bulk, probably would have looked familiar as it clomped gracelessly up the front steps and entered her building.
And maybe Susan did sense something out of the ordinary while she lay there damp with sweat and lost in a perplexing dream where she was both doctor and patient and everyone in the ER had gathered to laugh at her while she tried to intubate herself, because her frequent sighs and twitching muscles abruptly ceased. Down the hall someone was searching for the name LEWIS on a row of numbered mail slots.
There was a momentary bustle on the other side of her apartment door, but Susan either heard none of it or simply incorporated it into her semi- nightmare and did not stir. It could have been a man or a woman concealed beneath the shabby clothes, greasy hair and baseball cap, but there was something distinctly feminine - almost motherly - about the movements as this person lowered their body and freed themselves of the bulk, which turned out to be a child clutching a dirty Powerpuff Girls backpack and a starry-eyed doll, that had weighed them down.
"Give this to her," said a nervous voice, thrusting forward a twitchy hand that held a folded slip of paper. The child took it and nodded, though of the two the doll looked wider awake, its plastic eyelids blinking only once as it was situated in its owner's slender arms.
"What if she ain't home?" Though groggy, the child's question was prepared and urgent.
"She will be." Whether 'will be' meant now or later was unclear, and no further explanation was offered. With a swiftness that would have frightened an edgier child, the grim face beneath its baseball cap swooped down and placed a rough kiss on the little girl's forehead. "Knock loud."
"Wait," the child fumbled with her doll a bit longer than necessary, finally holding it up by one leg, "you didn't kiss Bernadette."
"Oh, beg your pardon, Bernie. Mwah." Playful as the gesture was, it felt very out of place in the scarcely lit hallway at three in the morning. "Love ya, sweetie pete."
The little girl's forced smile faded as she watched her companion barreling towards the door that led to the street. She thought about following on tiptoe and attempting to sneak into the backseat of their car, but that required more energy than she had. The longer she stood outside Susan Lewis's apartment, the more welcoming and safer it seemed. Food and a place to sleep waited on the other side.
Cradling Bernadette against her chest, the girl crumpled the note into her fist and tried to make her first knock quiet and loud at the same time. She accomplished this by barely grazing her knuckles against the wooden door, then giving it two firm raps. She winced as the sound echoed through her empty, unknown surroundings. "Maybe you better try, Bernadette," she whispered, positioning one of the doll's flexible arms so it resembled a miniature traffic cop's, palm out to stop vehicles. Cautious not to bump Bernadette's head, the girl slowly rocked the doll back and forth, patting its tiny plastic hand against the door.
Susan was gagging on the endotracheal tube, sweat trickling into her eyes to mingle with the tears of frustration that were forming there. She couldn't understand why everyone was laughing at her. Not only laughing - now they were pounding on the trauma room doors, howling with delight at her predicament. Some of the nurses had started a chant. Susan blocked out the ruckus as best she could, but it just grew increasingly louder until finally all she could concentrate on was the hammering in her ears, the nurses crying, "Aunt Susan, Aunt Susan!"
"Stop!" The sound of her own voice woke Susan up. Disoriented, she gazed at the ceiling and wondered why she was no longer in the ER. Her hands flew to her mouth and touched only parched lips. Just a dream, she told herself. Thank God. No more spicy foods before bedtime.
Already half-asleep again, she was debating the importance of getting up to pee and had decided she could hold it till morning because the bathroom was too far away, when a feeble tapping noise cut through the steadily humming fan. It would have gone unnoticed, but seconds later a small, timid voice called, "Aunt Susan?"
Susan made it out of bed in record time. Swear words accompanied each step as she rushed blindly through the dark and managed to collide with most of the furniture in her sparsely decorated apartment. She was hunched over, rubbing at the throbbing kneecap that had been assaulted by a forgotten coffee table, when she swung the front door open and came face to face with a rosy-cheeked, kinky-haired doll. And a slight girl whose wide hazel eyes were obscured by a fringe of bangs badly in need of trimming.
"Suzy." For a moment it was all Susan could think of to say as she stared at her niece and silently compiled a list of reasons for this surprise visit. None of them were good. Her older sister had pulled too many stupid stunts in the past. "Hi. What's going on? Where's Chloe?"
"She's... gone." Suzy hesitated long enough to glance over her shoulder, then remembered her mother's note. "Oh, here. We're supposed to give this to you. It's from her." She balanced the wad of paper in her upturned palm, wishing she hadn't wrinkled it so, even if it had been folded crookedly beforehand.
Susan had a general idea of how the note would read ("Sorry to do this to you, Big Suzy, but can you take care of my kid while I go piss my life away on drugs..."), but she plucked it gently from her niece's hand, smoothed out the creases and forced herself to read each line carefully, her lips mouthing the words. Chloe was suffocating, it said. She couldn't think, she couldn't sleep. She needed to get away, just for a short while. An eight- year-old girl would be excess baggage. Please play surrogate mother until things are straightened out. Yeah, like last time, only no one gets hurt now - promise. Thanks, Suz. You're the best.
"Can we come in?"
"We?" Acting in a daze, her eyes still scanning Chloe's oversized print, Susan stepped aside and cupped a hand behind Suzy's head, leading the little girl into the apartment. This was every bit as dreamlike as the intubation scare, maybe even more so. At least during sleep any situation you encountered felt like an ordinary occurrence. It was during your waking hours that the real nightmares happened.
"Me and Bernadette. She's sort of a doll, but she's really my friend," Suzy explained, trailing her backpack along the floor and letting it bump against her heels, a plop-plop sound following each step. Her flimsy sandals were a size too small and the frayed leather straps were giving out on the sides. In one quick sweep Susan's observant gaze took in everything else, from Suzy's faded jean shorts and striped tank top to the toothy grinning face of Bernadette, who appeared better groomed than her owner. The doctor in Susan looked for signs of malnutrition or other problems, but Suzy's health seemed to be in better shape than her clothing.
Actually, it was like looking at an eight-year-old replica of herself or Chloe, Susan thought. Suddenly stricken by the impulse to hug her niece, she crouched to the girl's level and pulled her close. "I missed you so much, Suzy Q," she sighed, poised on the balls of her feet as she let go and flashed a genuine smile, her eyes glossier than they had been seconds ago. She fussed with Suzy's lank hair, brushing a few sweaty strands behind her ear. "How've you been? Doing okay?"
"Uh-huh." Suzy shrugged. "I missed you too. I been telling Bernadette all about you and she's been dying to meet you. She's real glad we're here because she don't like riding in the car very much, and she's starving and ready to go back to sleep. She don't like waking up when it's still dark out."
"I don't blame her one bit." Susan stifled a yawn and glanced at the digital clock on her VCR. Three thirty-six. What the hell was Chloe thinking leaving a child alone in a strange place at this hour? At any hour? Oh wait, never mind. Chloe COULDN'T think.
Sighing heavily, Susan stood and contemplated what to do next. She had to work this morning and it was way too early to call for a sitter. Worse yet, she didn't even know any sitters to begin with. And Suzy didn't need to be passed off to some stranger right now, anyway. Tired and at a loss for ideas, Susan regarded her niece uncertainly, as if the little girl might have some suggestions. And she did.
"Do you got cereal? Kix or something?" Suzy asked hopefully. "Kix is Bernadette's favorite."
"Well, you're in luck, Bernadette." Susan turned towards the kitchen and motioned for Suzy to follow. "I just bought a box of Berry Berry Kix the other day. They're my favorite too."
Barely three spoonfuls of Kix had disappeared from Suzy's bowl by the time she fell asleep sitting up. Susan left the cereal where it was and carried her exhausted niece to the bedroom, her own thoughts in a kind of sleepy haze. She wanted to concentrate on the spot Chloe had put her in, to feel the full extent of the anger and disgust she'd repressed for Suzy's sake. But her mind wouldn't focus and her eyes followed suit. The last thing Susan saw before she dozed off was Suzy sprawled carelessly at her side, Bernadette tucked under one arm, blond hair tumbling across the mattress, and lips parted ever so slightly.