Chapter 16.  Heredity

"Look, it's hopeless," Mark said when he hung up the phone.  "She's not going to make it back here.  Let's meet her there, we can have a mini-party in the surgeon's lounge."

Ella and Isabelle stared up at him from the family room couch, where they'd been waiting for Elizabeth all day as she tried to extricate herself from a pile-up of trauma.  Isabelle was on her sixth time reading Officer Buckle and Gloria to Ella, who was wearing a party hat.  Elizabeth had finally called and told Mark she couldn't make it, because she had another procedure scheduled in half an hour.

"A hospital can't be the proper place for a little girl's party," Isabelle objected, putting down the book.

"Elizabeth does whatever she wants over there.  She's going to be chief of the department in a few weeks."

Mark didn't realize what he was doing until the incriminating words fell onto the air.

"She didn't tell me that," Isabelle said, drawing herself up like an offended queen.

"I'm sure she was getting around to it," he placated her.  "Um… I'll go get the extra diapers, and we can head over to the hospital."

She sniffed.  "If you insist."

Mark sighed as he snuck into the bathroom to pack a couple diapers for Ella, and to take some Compazine.  Forget the weak stuff – he could use morphine right about now.  A lot of it.

When they arrived at the hospital he said, "I have to stop by the lounge for a minute.  Do you know where the surgical lounge is?"

"No, how would I know that?"

"I – uh – hey, Jerry?"  Mark waved at him as he sat at the desk eating a donut.  "Would you show Mrs. Corday where to go?"

"Dr. Greene!  Hi!  Um.  Yes.  Sure.  Mrs. Corday?"

"Mark, where are you going?" she demanded.

"I'll be right there," he promised.  Susan had told him she had a present for Ella in her locker.  ("When you go to get it, try and talk to Carter," she'd prodded him.  "He needs that.")

When he entered the lounge, Kerry Weaver was standing in the corner with Gallant.  Mark hoped that after giving him a solemn little wave she would be occupied with Gallant.  Gallant looked like he'd seen a ghost – I'm not dead quite yet, Mark thought grumpily.  But just as he was pulling the silver-paper wrapped gift from Susan's locker, Kerry told Gallant to go and said, "Hi, Mark."

He stood sheepishly next to Susan's locker.  "Hi, Kerry."

"How are you?"

"Good.  Perfect."

"I'm glad."  She nodded briskly.  "Do you know when Susan's coming back?"

"She hasn't called since last night."

"Tell her good luck."

"I will."

The door opened to reveal Carter, who was rubbing his eyes in that boyish way he had when he was tired.  Mark stood guiltily, still holding the big gift clumsily in two hands, and Carter stopped short.  His eyes went wide and sad when he caught sight of Mark.

Kerry looked back and forth between the two of them and said, "I'll see you later, Mark."

Another brisk nod.  Mark felt bad; after all, they'd known each other for so long, and although he didn't particularly like her, he also disliked the sight of her leaving with her head bowed.  "Hey, Kerry," he said just before she left.

She stopped.

"I heard through the grapevine that you're going to be promoted."

"Hey, I didn't know that," Carter said.

Kerry smiled slightly.  "I'll be Chief of Staff.  Romano's leaving."

"That's too bad," Mark deadpanned.

The three of them shared a laugh.

"Congratulations," he said.

They were both aware of the irony.  Kerry had stepped on Mark's own head to get where she was.  She looked away.  "Thanks." 

She nodded a good-bye, and Carter sat heavily on the couch, looking up at Mark.

"You left," he said, his voice cracking.

 "Yeah.  You saw Romano that last day.  He says jump, I jump."

But with Carter the joking fell flat; the younger man had outlived so many of his friends and yet he still broke every time it happened.  "You didn't do much in the way of good-byes," Carter said.

Slowly Mark put the present down on the table.  "No," he agreed.  "I should have said something to you."

He swallowed, looking sick and sad.  Mark lifted his hands, helpless, and after a long hesitation he said what he knew he should have said before.  "When I met you on your first day here, all dressed up in that designer coat, I never imagined you'd make this good a doctor.  But you are a good doctor, a great doctor maybe.  And you have your life fixed up."

"Not quite," Carter muttered.

Ah, woman problems.  Of course.  Mark knew the feeling, knew the story.  But, "You do.  And I am proud of you.  Very proud."

Carter didn't seem to be able to respond.  He opened his mouth, made an inarticulate sound, passed his hand across his eyes again, and then stood up.  In three steps he'd crossed the room and wrapped Mark in a bear hug.  Despite the pain of being crushed so, Mark smiled.

"Love you too, man," he teased.

"Thanks, Mark," Carter said as he released him.  "Thank you."

~

"Lizzie, you done?"

"Does it look like I'm done?"

Elizabeth was flushed and harried from dealing with Babcock and missing Ella's party, and she wasn't particularly pleased to have Robert bothering her.

"I was trying to enjoy a little quiet time in the lounge, but it looks like that's out the window," he said.  "Your whole family decided to show up.  Mark, Ella, Isabelle…"

"They're here?"

"In the flesh.  Want me to close for you?"

"No, no, I'm almost done.  Tell them I'll be right there."

 "Will do," he sing-songed cheerfully.

Elizabeth smiled under her mask, flooded with relief that she wouldn't be missing the big day after all.  It seemed like forever since she'd seen Ella; she had begun to wonder if she could handle the strain of giving her up, even if they all knew it was temporary.

When she entered the lounge, everyone was there as promised – Isabelle standing by the counter, Mark and Ella sitting in a chair together, Ella on Mark's lap.  There were a couple of presents sitting at the table, including the ones Elizabeth had dropped off earlier.

She passed her mother and swooped over to Mark, lifting her daughter and kissing her chubby face.  "Hi honey," she cooed.  "It's your birthday!  You're a whole year old today!  You happy?  Yeah?"

Ella gurgled.  "Da-da."

"How about 'mama'?  Can you say 'ma-ma'?"

"Da-da."

"Hmm."  Elizabeth looked over at Mark, who shrugged with a little smile.  "Still nothing else, I suppose."

"Just da-da.  What can I say, I'm a pretty important guy."

"Hah."  She kissed Ella again.  "Well, let's open the presents, shall we?  I've got to scrub in on that fibular transfer in twenty minutes."

They sat Ella on Mark's lap at the table, though Elizabeth half-consciously worried that even the small weight of their daughter might hurt him.  Elizabeth and her mother stood by, watching Mark unwrap the gifts for Ella – who was far more interested in a scrap of bright-pink wrapping paper than in the enclosed jumper that Isabelle had knitted herself, or the presents that Elizabeth and Mark had so carefully picked out.

"That's beautiful, Mum," Elizabeth said when Mark opened Isabelle's gift.  "Really."

"Don't you remember I knitted you all your jumpers when you were little?"

Elizabeth thought hard, but had no recollection of this whatsoever.  "Right," she said vaguely.

"And Susan got you a present, too!" Mark was murmuring to Ella.  "Last one…"

Elizabeth looked around, finally remembering to ask, "Where is Susan, anyway?"

Isabelle shrugged and waved her hands as if it were unimportant.  "Mark's girlfriend?  She ran off to New York, or whatever."

"What?  Why?"

"Something about her sister.  The sister's on drugs, or used to be on drugs… really, I didn't pay much attention."  Isabelle paused when she saw the pretty pink sundress Susan had bought for Ella.  She lowered her voice as Mark began unwrapping the next present, oblivious to the two women.  "I got a good look at her the other day.  She's not a real blonde."

"Mother," Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes.  "You're not a real redhead."

"I was."

"Not anymore," she retorted.

They fell silent.  Isabelle said, her voice falling even lower, "So is it serious?  Does he love her?"

"I suppose so," Elizabeth said.  "I think he loved her before I came along, even.  At least, that's what I've gathered."

"Cold soup warmed over, that sort of thing."

"I don't even know whether it did get 'cold,'" she said.  "He might have forgotten her completely, or he might have thought about her every day that we were together.  I don't know, I never will.  It's a mystery to me."

Isabelle thought about this for a long time.  "I saw the way he looked at you on your wedding day.  And the way you looked at him.  He wasn't thinking of anyone else."

"We cared about each other, very much, for a long time."  Elizabeth thought back to the day she and Mark missed a brightly lit boat and began a calm, carefully thought-out relationship.  And then she thought of the way his arm had been intertwined with Susan's that day she saw them come in together; they had looked completed by each other, drunk on each other.  "But that was all it was," she finished.  "He and Susan had something more … romantic."

Her mother's eyes were turned sharply upon her now.  "I don't know why you're so attracted to men who drive you crazy, instead of men like Mark.  Good men, uncomplicated."

"Heredity perhaps?"

A smile, a very small one.  "Perhaps."

At that point, Robert entered the lounge and caught sight of their conversation.  "Hey, Lizzie," he greeted her, approaching with a mischievous light in his eyes.

"Mother, do you remember Dr. Romano?"

"Yes, he made a bet you'd be left at the altar," Isabelle answered.  "I remember him very well."

Robert lifted an eyebrow.  "I told Lizzie to convey my greetings to you, but I have a feeling she didn't.  What brings you to Chicago, stargazing or family ties?"

"Ella's birthday."

He nodded over at Ella.  "That's a beautiful kid.  Looks nothing like her father."

"Robert," Elizabeth said, trying not to laugh.

Romano matched Isabelle's glare with an insouciant stare, but after a few seconds, tired of the game, he took his leave with a nod and headed over to the refrigerator to grab a can of Mountain Dew.  High caffeine – they'd both been on all night and ended up staying half the day because of a chain-reaction auto accident that seemed to injure half the city of Chicago.

"Speaking of complicated," Elizabeth said, as he sat down out of their earshot with his soda.

Isabelle sniffed.  "He's not complicated, he's just a bastard."

"I don't know," Elizabeth said.  He kisses well, she wanted to say – a leftover, adolescent impulse to make her mother's jaw drop in shock.  Instead she said, "He and I haven't exactly been enemies lately."

 "Elizabeth!" Isabelle said, understanding her meaning instantly.  "You are joking."

Elizabeth's contrary side rose to the fore whenever Isabelle was around.  She knew this, but nevertheless she gave in to her reflexes.  "Try me," she said, her voice dripping, daring.

"You're involved with that pompous little prick after giving up a man like Mark Greene?"

"No, no, no.  We're not 'involved' and do keep your voice down, please.  I thought about it, but –"

"But he's not worth your little finger?" prompted Isabelle.

"But I'm still not sure," Elizabeth corrected her.

"Take my advice, Elizabeth," Isabelle said, although she knew the very word 'advice' was enough to infuriate Elizabeth.  "You'd be better off living the rest of your life alone."  She caught Elizabeth's knowing look.  "I'm not bitter, you know.  I've chosen my life."

"Are you happy?"

Isabelle refused for once to be insulted.  "I'm not a family woman – I've tried it and it didn't fit me."  She shrugged this off.  "Besides, I never realized my old age would be so much fun, until I got there."

Her hostility dissipated.  "Mother, you'll never really be old."

After taking a sip of her soda, Isabelle shook her head.  "We all get old."  Her voice grew pointed.  "I hear you have a promotion."

"Oh – right," she said distractedly.  "I'll be chief of surgery."

"How in the world did that happen?"  Isabelle paused, her eyes alighting on Romano.  "On second thought, I already have a few guesses about that."

"I hope the word you're thinking is 'talent,'" Elizabeth said, setting her lips firmly against the hurt she was feeling.

"If you insist."

"I do insist!  Mother, do you think that poorly of me?"

"I haven't said a word," she protested.

"No," Elizabeth said.  "You didn't have to."

Mark interrupted them.  "Hey Isabelle, will you take a picture of us?" he asked, tossing her his camera.

Putting an arm around Mark, Elizabeth crouched to the level of where Ella was sitting on his lap.  They grinned cheesily, and after Isabelle had snapped a picture she said, "You'll make copies for me."

"Yes, ma'am," Mark said.

"Me too," Elizabeth added.

"Of course."

"Bye Ella," Elizabeth said, dropping a kiss on the latter's head.  "See you later sweetie."

"Where are you going?" Isabelle said.

"I have surgery," Elizabeth said coolly.

She looked around and saw Robert, sitting serenely on his chair with a newspaper, and walked over to pull him upright.  "Hey," he squawked with a slight grimace.  "Lizzie, did you want all of me or just the dismembered arm?"

"All of you," she said, pulling a naughty face.

His mouth twitched.  "Well?  For any particular reason?"

"Want to assist my fibular transfer?"

"You need help?"

"No, I'd just like some company."  God, she was such a child.  Flirting with the forbidden.  A twelve-year-old climbing trees because Madame Corday thought it improper.  Did her mother have so much influence over her still?

--No, she answered herself, not really.  It wasn't just Isabelle motivating her at the moment.  She already liked having Robert around, already enjoyed this flirtation they'd been carrying on.  She'd just wanted an excuse to tease him.

"All right," he said.  "Let's do it."

She avoided her mother's probing, critical eyes.  "Bye, Mum."

"Elizabeth," Isabelle answered with a nod, and then, grudgingly, added, "Dr. Romano."

"Always a pleasure," Romano returned cheerily.

Before they left, Elizabeth lifted Ella up for a hug and a kiss.  "Bye, Ella," she said, ruffling the blond curls affectionately as she handed her back to her father's arms.  "I'll see you soon, okay?  Bye-bye!"

"Mama," Ella said.