Say Goodbye
Summary: Even though you're leaving, our feelings would always stay the same, I wish we could be laughing, instead I'm standing here asking, do we have to end this now, could we make it last somehow?
A/N: I love writing this story. It's keeping my mind off things.
Dedication: Rach. Beef-ef
Disclaimer: Don't own. Zoom in on my empty wallet
"Sir..." The man shook his shoulder, "Sir.."
"Huh?" Mark turned around, he felt numb.
"Sir, we need to clear the tracks for the next train." The man told him.
"Oh. Okay." Mark said, his feet felt like lead as he walked slowly out of Union Station. He had ran across Chicago to catch her, his chest should have felt lighter, more open but he felt like he was going to pass out. He hailed a cab and rattled off her address, correction, it was his address now.
When the cab pulled to a stop, he didn't feel like going inside, to be overwhelmed with her scent; it filled every corner of that apartment and right now, there was a good chance it'd kill him. He walked down the street to the park, the park they had gone to when she decided to keep Little Susie. Mark fell onto the swing, the same one Susan had sat on while he held the baby. He rocked back and forth on his shoes, his head staring down at the gravel. How was he supposed to live when there was a memory of her on every corner?
He needed to forget, getting out of the swing, he began to walk. Mark was angry, bitter, hurt. How could she leave him? How could she leave her life? Her family? But then he felt guilty, she had Little Susie to think of and he could never begrudge her happiness, what other choice did he have?
He wanted to get drunk, he wanted to get so plastered he couldn't think straight -let alone feel the gaping hole in his heart. So he walked to the corner bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, bringing it to his lip, he swallowed it quick. The alcohol burnt his throat and reminded him that what he was feeling was real.
The bartender cut him off after a few too many and asked if there was anyone he could call. Without thinking, he rambled off Doug's number, "Okay Buddy, your friend is on his way."
"Mark?" Doug came over to him.
"Doug. I want to drink." Mark said as Doug hooked Mark's arm around his neck and hoisted him off the stool.
"I know you do Mark, but right now we gotta get you hope and some aspirin in you." Doug said, paying the bartender.
"She got on the train." Mark said softly.
"I figured." Doug said, helping him out in the cool night air.
"Why am I not mad?" Mark asked as he stumbled down the street.
"You're hurt Mark. And about ten sheets to the wind." Doug told him, "You smell like a brewry."
"I wanted to forget." He mumbled.
"Did it work?" Doug asked.
"No." Mark sighed, "I'm gonna puke."
"Okay." Doug lead him over to the trashcan. Mark leaned over and puked up the alcohol, Doug rubbed his back, "Deep breaths."
"It hurts." Mark said as he threw up some more.
"Well, it's going to." Doug sighed, "You got your heart ripped out, Bud."
"I got it ripped out and thrown under a damn train." Mark wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, "-I'm ready to walk. I got my heart thrown under the train and she doesn't care."
"Mark, She cares. She's doing what she has to do." Doug helped him into the apartment building and up the stairs.
"I wanted to throw myself under those tracks." Mark mumbled.
"I'm sure you did." Doug tried to be sympathetic, "Can you change on your own?"
"I don't wanna." Mark protested.
"Okay." Doug helped him lay down on the couch, removing his shoes for him, "I'm gonna get you some tylenol and water, okay?"
"Okay." Mark mumbled, turning on his side, "Waste basket too."
"A wastebasket too." Doug nodded, keeping an eye on his friend. Even when Jennifer had left him, he'd never seen him so torn apart. He'd really lost his best friend.
A/N: Okay, so I thought that was a nice little role reversal. and wow, I've never wrote so much in a 24 hour period. 2 updates on this fic and another new one. I do believe this is called a roll ladies and gents. Reviews would be appreciated.
