Whoa, has it been a long time since I've written. But folks, when you're 20 and bouncing from a summer in Florida to a fall in California and then moving to Indiana for the Spring, certain things tend to fall by the waistside.

So I was sitting there when I decided the time had come to return to a little fantasy ER writing. But my old story threads had become so rusty I didn't feel quite ready to pull them off the shelf. So I decided to dust them away. Pretend they never happened. Oh, they're still there, you can visit them if you want. To my mind they've been discarded like old rides at Disneyland, but I didn't whipe away all evidence of their existence to make room for Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin.

Now that my disturbing aside is finished, I present to you my new story, "This is the Time". It's mainly about Mark & Susan, but all the characters from the original incarnation of the show will be getting plenty of pub. To alert you, the reader, this is going to be a long story, and I have already written a bunch of installments, but I am going to post one at a time.

One last thing: 58 days until the Daily Show: InDecision 2004 comes to DVD. To honor the comedic genius of Jon Stewart and his ability to identify just how full of s&t everybody in politics is, a Daily Show Moment of Zen will precede every chapter of this story.

Enjoy. Reviews, comments, a complete list of 95 Theses, death threats, etc. are welcome.

TODAY'S MOMENT OF ZEN:

George W. Bush: American's will not be intimidated, or influenced, by an enemy of our country. Jon Stewart: Strong words. Senator Kerry, you're turn. John Kerry: As Americans, we are absolutely united in our determination to hunt down and destory Osama bin Laden and the terrorists. Jon Stewart: Ah - so he saw Bush's "we will not be intimidated" and raised him a "determination to hunt down and destroy"! Not to be out-talked, Bush then promised to smack bin Laden so hard, his momma would feel it.

And now on to the story. It begins on a cold morning in Chicago, IL, during the last scene of "Love's Labour Lost"...

The bitter Chicago cold was whipping against them as they ascended to the El platform. Mark held his shoulders low, head tucked in under his hood. Susan couldn't bear to see him like this.

It was not his fault. It was a one-in-a-billion chain of events marked by the most haphazard priority management she'd ever seen out of OB. Not once but twice he had actually sent people up there with direct orders to drag somebody down – they could not have been so overflooded as to have nobody around. And yet he had been so gung-ho…

No. Not going there. Nobody else is allowed to blame him, Susan told herself. He's doing it enough on his own.

Finally she spoke up, "C'mon, it's early, lemme buy you breakfast."

Mark barely mumbled a reply, "Uh, not hungry."

"C'mon, I know a nice place. It's just two El stops the other way."

"I gotta get home."

"C'mon, not only does Shorties have the greasiest eggs in town, stuff falls from the ceiling every time the El goes by."

"Sounds attractive, Susan, I just got a lot of stuff I got to do."

This was the least convincing, most depressing state she had ever seen her friend in. In a way it surprised her that she was allowing herself to care so much about…her thoughts trailed for a moment. …about a married man.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She prayed for honesty.

"I'm fine," he lied through his teeth as he backed towards the train, "Scout's honor."

"Is Jen home?" She was asking out of some vain, misplaced belief that her presence would in someway be comforting to him. Jen didn't understand what they did, few people did. It was why doctors often married each other or had nine ex-spouses. Finding the kind of person who would really be able to understand the answers to the normal "How was your day" questions was not easy.

Mark was one of those people who understood everything, she thought as she stood on the platform, watching him grab the last seat in the last car on the train as it began to screech its way out of the station. He was a shoulder to cry on, a brain to pick, even a man who would be great to come home to.

Now she had to sit down. What had just come over her? Why was she suddenly thinking these thoughts?

It wasn't like there was nothing there. That night at the skating rink…those countless late-night snacks breaking into the cafeteria…and that moment three and a half weeks ago. February 5. Their eyes had locked with each other that night, Mark visibly shaken in the wake of the hospice women. She had to fight off the impulse to reach in and kiss him.

Kiss him? Now she grabbed her head, fearing she was thinking too hard. What was going on with her? She couldn't understand how her feelings had turned around on her so quickly.

Her and Mark Greene? It would be like dating a brother…or would it? But what if…

STOP! She told herself. You can't unravel because you see a man in a moment of weakiness and revert to the stereotypical role of rebound female.

But something was pulling her now. Pulling her head up to see the next train rolling to a stop. Pulling her on board. Pulling her…towards what?

To be continued...