So 2 years and 5 months later…sorry for the delay! A belated thank you to those who left reviews. To anyone who may read this, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Repercussions

"Welcome home buddy," Doug greeted Mark at the door of their apartment.

"Thanks. It's good to be home," Mark answered, rather subdued. Susan guided him into the apartment and helped him to sit on the sofa. His ribs were still sore and it hurt him to move.

"Do you want anything? Something to eat or drink?" Susan fussed around him.

"No, I'm not hungry," Mark said.

Susan sat on the sofa next to Mark and took his hand in hers, running her thumb over the palm of his hand, comfortingly. He took it away from her and began to play with the buttons on his shirt. Doug came over and sat on the coffee table opposite them.

"So, how are you feeling?" Doug asked.

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "Ok."

Susan studied him. She had watched his attitude change since the attack. He was quiet and distant, and pulled away at her touch. For the first time she could remember, Susan felt like she was struggling to make conversation with him. She looked across at Doug, who raised his eyebrows. Apparently the change had not gone unnoticed with him either.

"You know, this time off Kerry's making you have would be very well spent packing your stuff to move into the new house," Susan said, trying to be light-hearted. "Since you've been so bad at it so far!"

"Yeah, I'm not sure about the house any more," Mark said, the tone of his voice flat. "I'm thinking about letting the lease go."

Susan frowned and Doug looked surprised.

"What? But I thought you loved that house?" Susan asked.

Mark shrugged his shoulders again.

"Mark?" Doug questioned him.

"It's no big deal, ok? It's only a house," Mark said.

Susan sighed. "It's your decision."

"Hey, I get a roommate for a bit longer," Doug said, trying to be cheerful.

Mark was silent, still distracted by the buttons on his shirt.

"Well, I've got to get to work, I've got a half-shift to do," Susan said, getting up from the sofa. She looked at Mark, expecting him to follow like he always did when she was leaving. But he didn't. He sat and looked up at her.

"Ok."

He sounded like he didn't care and it hurt.

"I'll come by tonight after my shift, ok?" Susan said, putting her jacket on and picking up her bag.

"I don't know, I'm still kind of tired. I'll probably just be asleep," Mark said, avoiding looking her in the eye.

"Oh. Well, tomorrow then," Susan said.

"Sure."

Susan leant down and kissed his cheek. She nodded a goodbye to Doug and left, holding back the tears until she was outside the apartment, where she let them flow freely. She felt useless. What could she do to make things better? What could she do to get things back to the way they were? She remembered the night of her birthday; she had been lying in Mark's arms in his new house, exhausted after her tour of the city, and thinking how perfect life was at that moment.

A week later and everything had been turned upside down.

Back inside, Doug sat watching Mark. He was starting to get irritated by Mark's obsession with the buttons on his shirt.

"What?" Mark noticed Doug staring at him.

"What are you doing?" Doug asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you. Your attitude. I mean the way you just treated Susan," Doug said.

"I'm just tired, I didn't want her fussing around me," Mark answered.

"By pushing her away?" Doug asked. "She's trying to help you and you're acting…"

"What? I'm acting like what?" Mark was starting to get angry. "In case you'd forgotten, I was beaten up."

"I know that," Doug said. "But you're acting like a jerk."

Mark let out an exasperated sigh. "I just…" he couldn't finish the sentence. His mind was a whirlwind and he just wanted to forget everything that was going on.

"Look, I know you're going through some stuff right now that I can't understand," Doug said. "And I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're feeling. Whatever it is that's going on in your head, you've got to work through yourself. But let me give you some advice. Susan is the best thing that has ever happened to you, and if you keep acting like this you're going to lose her. Because she won't hang around while you treat her like dirt."

Mark sat quietly as he took in what Doug was saying to him.

"I told her once that I wanted to protect her from all the bad things," Mark said eventually. "But how am I supposed to do that when I can't even stop the bad things from happening to me?"

"She doesn't want you to be a hero, Mark," Doug said. "She didn't fall in love with a knight on a white horse, she fell in love with you. Mark Greene, the good doctor."

Mark nodded, a sign that he was listening to Doug's words. "Since when were you the relationship know-it-all?"

Doug shrugged his shoulders and blushed.

"So, you and Carol, huh?" Mark was straight-forward with his question.

"Susan?"

"Yep."

Doug got up from the table. "Speaking of Carol, I'm meeting her in twenty minutes, I've got to go. You'll think about what I've said?"

Mark nodded as Doug left him alone to think. He was stuck in this place that he desperately wanted to get away from, but he didn't know how. He felt scared all the time – scared to be outside, scared to be inside; scared to be at the hospital, scared to be home alone. The thought of moving into that new house – that big, empty house – scared him. He needed something that would take away the fear; something that would make him feel safe.

There was only one thing that Mark could think of. But it was a crazy idea…wasn't it?

Susan was stood in the drug lock up, staring at the rows of pills in front of her. She was looking, but she didn't really see them; she was too lost in her thoughts about Mark. A week had passed since he had been allowed home and she had seen him only twice. Each time was the same – he would make small talk for a while, before complaining he was tired and disappearing into his bedroom to sleep. Susan knew that he was struggling, she knew that she needed to give him time, but his coldness hurt her. Most of all, she hated that she didn't know what to do to make things better.

She thought about all the patients she had helped as part of her job. She saw it so often – the vulnerable ones coming through the ER, even more scared and broken than before. She always had words of comfort to console them before sending them off to someone else. Treat 'em and street 'em was the philosophy of the ER. But when it was one of their own – when it was Mark – then she had to be able to do something more.

"Hey."

A voice behind her made Susan jump. She turned to see Mark leaning against the doorway.

"Hey. What are you doing here? You should be resting," Susan said.

"I was feeling better," Mark said. There was an awkward pause as Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such an idiot this week, about the way I've acted. I've been out of line."

"It's ok," Susan accepted his apology.

"No, it's not. It's not ok, because you don't deserve it," Mark said. "So let me make it up to you. How about I pick you up after your shift, and we go grab a bite to eat or go see a movie?"

Susan smiled. "A date? I'd really like that."

"Good," Mark said with a smiling. "I'd better go, I've got an appointment upstairs."

"An appointment?" Susan questioned.

"To see a counsellor. I thought it might help," Mark answered. "I'll see you tonight."

Susan nodded and watched him go, a wave of relief washing over her. She was please to see him trying. She hoped that the counselling session would help him. Most of all, she hoped that the counselling session would encourage him to talk to her. She wanted to be a part of this, to know what he was thinking and feeling and to help him through it, just as he had been there for her in the past.

Mark kept to his word and at met Susan after her shift at 8.00pm. They enjoyed dinner overlooking the water before a late showing at the local cinema. Susan could feel the tension in Mark as they walked along the streets and as they rode the El train and noticed his twitchiness at the sounds and movements around him, as if he sensed danger in everything around him.

At these times, the conversation would lull. Mark would be oblivious to Susan's hand tightening around his, his attention drawn to every-one and every-thing around him, wondering if someone else wanted to have a go at him. He relaxed over dinner and during the film, feeling safer in those surroundings.

As they rode the El train home, Mark's attention was drawn to a group of young boys at the back of the carriage. They were aged between fifteen and eighteen, dressed in hooded sweatshirts and baseball caps and acting raucously as they teased the gentlemen near them. Mark's eyes were concentrating on a small fleck of dirt on his trousers, occasionally flickering up to keep an eye on what the boys were doing. They made him feel nervous and he could feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest.

As he looked up again, he caught the eye of one. He looked away quickly, but it was too late.

"Hey guys, look at the bald guy and his little girlfriend," the young boy jeered. He swung on the bars above him, walking towards Mark and Susan. Mark tried to turn away, shielding Susan from the thug. The train pulled up at a station and Mark pulled at Susan's hand, urging her to get off.

"Mark, this isn't our stop," Susan whispered, finding herself scared.

"Just walk," Mark ordered.

They rushed off the train, huddled together. The platform was empty. Susan felt Mark searching for something in his coat pocket, wondering if he was going to hand over his wallet to pre-empt any threats. She could feel the crowd of boys following them out of the El train and she tightened her grasp of Mark's arm.

"Hey man, you're not scared are you?" one of the boys yelled after them.

"Can you spare us some change, sir?" another mocked, running up behind them and grabbing Mark's arm.

Mark spun around, his arm waving in front of him. Susan stood in disbelief as Mark held a gun towards the group of young boys.

"Go away!" Mark screamed at them, his voice filled with terror. "Leave us alone!"

"Wow man, are you crazy?"

"Hey man, come on!"

"Mark, what are you doing?" Susan gasped.

Mark stood defiantly, his hand shaking as he kept the gun pointed at the youths. He saw them backing away, climbing back on board the El train and watched as it disappeared down the track.

Mark was frozen for a moment, before letting the gun fall limp in his hands. He looked across at Susan whose face was a mixture of fear, panic and shock, and the consequences of his actions suddenly hit home. What was he doing? He fell to the floor, landing on his knees. The tears started to fall down his face, letting out all the anger and fear that he had been bottling up since the attack.

Susan watched him. Her first instinct was to run over to him and wrap her arms around him, but after what she had just witnessed, she paused. She approached him slowly and knelt down next to him, pulling him into her chest. She closed her eyes, listening to him cry. She rocked him slowly, waiting for him to stop; and when he did, she stood up and reached out her hand. He took it and she pulled him up to standing. Keeping his hand in hers, they walked out of the El station and made their way to Mark's apartment in silence. Mark opened the door and Susan followed him cautiously. She didn't sit down; neither did he. They stood in the middle of the apartment, Susan staring hard at Mark, while he looked at anything except her.

"I don't understand, Mark. I don't understand why you would go out and buy a gun," Susan said, angrily. "What were you thinking?"

Mark shifted his stare towards the floor.

"Were you trying to prove something?"

Still silence.

"What if Rachel had been with you?" she asked. That got Mark's attention; he looked up at her. "What if one of those guys had had a gun and they'd retaliated? It's not enough that you get the crap beaten out of you, you have to try and get yourself killed as well?"

Tears started to fall down Susan's face, a mixture of anger and fear.

"I'm sorry," Mark said.

"Sorry for what?" Susan questioned, desperate for him to start talking, to open up to her.

Mark opened his mouth to answer and hesitated, because he didn't have an answer. "I don't know."

Susan softened. "You scared me tonight," she said. "And I never thought that you would be able to do that."

"I would never hurt you," Mark said, quickly in response.

"I know that," Susan said. "But I didn't know if you would hurt those boys. And it scared me to think that you might have it in you to pull that trigger."

"It scared me too," Mark said, a tear falling down his cheek.

"Then why? Why did you do it?"

"Because I couldn't stop it, Susan. I tried to fight, but he was too strong. And if I can't stop it happening to me, how am I going to stop it happening to you, or Rachel? I'm so scared of what's out there, and I'm scared of what's inside me. I thought if I carried a gun, I could protect myself. But I was still scared. It didn't go away

Mark sat on the edge of the sofa. "Because I am so frightened of it happening again. I don't want to feel like this, and I thought if I carried a gun, I wouldn't be so afraid any more. But it didn't work, because I'm still scared, Susan, I'm still scared. I'm scared of being outside, I'm scared of being in the hospital, I'm scared of being in the damn house on my own. I don't want to feel so afraid any more."

Susan stared at the broken man in front of her and she felt her own eyes fill with tears. Her heart broke for him. She moved to his side, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"It's ok, Mark. It's gonna be ok. I promise you, it's gonna be ok."

Mark slid his arms around her waist, his head buried deep against her chest and his tears soaking into her coat. He listened to her words, allowing himself to believe them for a moment, letting her make promises that they both feared could not be kept.