Susan pulled a chart off the desk.
Carol sidled up to her. "How's your first day back going?"
"Suspicious rash… ask me after this." She grinned and disappeared into curtain one.
"Good to have you back." Carol laughed.
"Good to be back." Susan poked her head out from the curtain.
Mark exited the elevator just as the call came "Multiple GSW. ETA, nine minutes."
"Right," he sighed.
Susan signed off her rash patient and joined them. "What are we waiting for?"
"This is the calm before the storm." Mark rubbed his forehead.
"You okay?" Susan turned to him.
"Yeah, waiting for that ibuprofen to kick in," he nodded.
She touched his face softly, wishing it would take even that minor pain away.
The doors slid open and the rush and noise of people desperate to live and people desperate to help them do so enveloped them. Two teenagers with chest wounds. The first fought for half an hour. Mark pronounced and crossed the threshold to fight for the life of his first patient's killer. Susan smiled at him sadly across the table. He recalled the words in her Christmas letter – about working with him – and smiled back.
*~~~*
I haven't pulled the original ER plot in much at all – missed heaps of stuff with Rachel. But I'll come back to it here: read the plot summary for 'Random Acts' in season 3 for more info. Short version: the kid that died above was an innocent bystander whose family has been sent a huge bill for his 'hospital care'. His brother gives Mark a good yelling-at… along with a couple of other patients… so it's not Mark's day at all. Then he gets thrashed in the men's room and is left unable to speak or walk, a bloody mess. Doug finds him like that and they get him stabilized in the ER.
Doug allowed himself a sigh of relief, seeing Mark's SATs beep confidently. He had to make a phone call.
He didn't want to leave the room so he used the phone, dialling Mark's familiar number.
Susan picked up, "Hey, Susan here."
"Oh, hey. It's Doug."
"Oh, hi Doug. How are you?"
"I'm good. I'm at the ER."
"I'm not on call – at least I don't think so."
"No, I know. It's Mark. He was in a fight."
"What?" she didn't allow her mind to wander "Is he okay?"
"He's stable."
"What? He was unstable?"
"It's okay Susan, just come down okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be right there." She put down the phone and picked up her bag all in one movement, not realising she'd forgotten her coat until she stopped running to wait for the el. It was January and the snow was a mess, and rarely white, but there was still snow on the ground. Her thin jersey didn't take much off the wind chill but her mind was otherwise engaged.
She ran in the sliding doors of the ER just as the slid out of her way. No one seemed to notice her in the buzz of the ER. She walked right on in and along the hall, looking in every door – looking for Mark. She found Doug in the last one.
"Hey Susan." He led her out of the room
"Is he… where is he…?"
"He's okay. He's upstairs."
"What? In the OR?"
"No, he's been admitted overnight. But you'll have to check the ward number. I didn't get a chance to see him yet – ice is a bitch." He ducked back into the room. Susan forced herself to JUST walk to the elevator.
*~~~*
Susan walked down the dark ward, grateful for her staff privileges. She wasn't prepared to see Mark like that. He was sleeping but his face was covered in unnatural shadows and lines. Susan sat down on the seat and took his hand from where it lay on his stomach.
Mark's eyes opened just the slightest bit – in fact she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been studying his face. He turned his head, which clearly hurt. She stood up so he didn't need to.
"I got beat up." He whispered hoarsely.
She nodded, swallowing. "I know."
He was so grateful that she was there – she made the cold, dark, impersonal ward like home, she made this broken, frightened man safe and warm and even peaceful.
"I love you." She shook her head, hopelessly trying to blink back her tears.
He smiled like he'd just got the best news, "I'm okay. Just a bit bruised. But you love me so I'm okay."
She smiled at his sleepy logic and nodded her agreement. "Go back to sleep. I'll stay here."
"Okay." He shut his eyes.
She pulled the chair closer so she could sit on it and rest her head on the bed. She held his hand, kissing it numerous times before dawn. She was too tired to think about it, to be angry at the man who'd done this, or to even consider that she was supposed to be in the ER, ready to start an eight our shift, by seven a.m. the next day. All she knew was that she loved him, and he was okay.
Thank God he was okay.
Carol sidled up to her. "How's your first day back going?"
"Suspicious rash… ask me after this." She grinned and disappeared into curtain one.
"Good to have you back." Carol laughed.
"Good to be back." Susan poked her head out from the curtain.
Mark exited the elevator just as the call came "Multiple GSW. ETA, nine minutes."
"Right," he sighed.
Susan signed off her rash patient and joined them. "What are we waiting for?"
"This is the calm before the storm." Mark rubbed his forehead.
"You okay?" Susan turned to him.
"Yeah, waiting for that ibuprofen to kick in," he nodded.
She touched his face softly, wishing it would take even that minor pain away.
The doors slid open and the rush and noise of people desperate to live and people desperate to help them do so enveloped them. Two teenagers with chest wounds. The first fought for half an hour. Mark pronounced and crossed the threshold to fight for the life of his first patient's killer. Susan smiled at him sadly across the table. He recalled the words in her Christmas letter – about working with him – and smiled back.
*~~~*
I haven't pulled the original ER plot in much at all – missed heaps of stuff with Rachel. But I'll come back to it here: read the plot summary for 'Random Acts' in season 3 for more info. Short version: the kid that died above was an innocent bystander whose family has been sent a huge bill for his 'hospital care'. His brother gives Mark a good yelling-at… along with a couple of other patients… so it's not Mark's day at all. Then he gets thrashed in the men's room and is left unable to speak or walk, a bloody mess. Doug finds him like that and they get him stabilized in the ER.
Doug allowed himself a sigh of relief, seeing Mark's SATs beep confidently. He had to make a phone call.
He didn't want to leave the room so he used the phone, dialling Mark's familiar number.
Susan picked up, "Hey, Susan here."
"Oh, hey. It's Doug."
"Oh, hi Doug. How are you?"
"I'm good. I'm at the ER."
"I'm not on call – at least I don't think so."
"No, I know. It's Mark. He was in a fight."
"What?" she didn't allow her mind to wander "Is he okay?"
"He's stable."
"What? He was unstable?"
"It's okay Susan, just come down okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be right there." She put down the phone and picked up her bag all in one movement, not realising she'd forgotten her coat until she stopped running to wait for the el. It was January and the snow was a mess, and rarely white, but there was still snow on the ground. Her thin jersey didn't take much off the wind chill but her mind was otherwise engaged.
She ran in the sliding doors of the ER just as the slid out of her way. No one seemed to notice her in the buzz of the ER. She walked right on in and along the hall, looking in every door – looking for Mark. She found Doug in the last one.
"Hey Susan." He led her out of the room
"Is he… where is he…?"
"He's okay. He's upstairs."
"What? In the OR?"
"No, he's been admitted overnight. But you'll have to check the ward number. I didn't get a chance to see him yet – ice is a bitch." He ducked back into the room. Susan forced herself to JUST walk to the elevator.
*~~~*
Susan walked down the dark ward, grateful for her staff privileges. She wasn't prepared to see Mark like that. He was sleeping but his face was covered in unnatural shadows and lines. Susan sat down on the seat and took his hand from where it lay on his stomach.
Mark's eyes opened just the slightest bit – in fact she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been studying his face. He turned his head, which clearly hurt. She stood up so he didn't need to.
"I got beat up." He whispered hoarsely.
She nodded, swallowing. "I know."
He was so grateful that she was there – she made the cold, dark, impersonal ward like home, she made this broken, frightened man safe and warm and even peaceful.
"I love you." She shook her head, hopelessly trying to blink back her tears.
He smiled like he'd just got the best news, "I'm okay. Just a bit bruised. But you love me so I'm okay."
She smiled at his sleepy logic and nodded her agreement. "Go back to sleep. I'll stay here."
"Okay." He shut his eyes.
She pulled the chair closer so she could sit on it and rest her head on the bed. She held his hand, kissing it numerous times before dawn. She was too tired to think about it, to be angry at the man who'd done this, or to even consider that she was supposed to be in the ER, ready to start an eight our shift, by seven a.m. the next day. All she knew was that she loved him, and he was okay.
Thank God he was okay.