Automatic Flowers Chapter 9: "Photographs and Memories."
sadieclay
owned by Jim Croce, et all.
Title: Automatic Flowers Chapter 9: "Photographs and Memories"
Summary: After Mark's death, the ER struggles to cope without him.
Some, the only way they know how.
Author's Note: I was having Jim Croce withdrawl for some reason, which
is why the song is included, plus I thought it fit quite well. Enjoy.
****chapter 9****
"So they're okay?" Carol hugged Doug tightly, the tears falling. The
tears weren't for Malucci or Weaver, really... Just for the mere
relief that nobody else had died. It seemed that over the years,
County claimed the lives of more doctors than patients, from Gant to
Knight, it didn't seem like the staff at County ever got a break and
that wasn't how it was supposed to be. Doctors weren't supposed to be
the patients... They weren't supposed to end up in the morgue. She
shuddered slightly, foggy memories of her own ER experience filling
her head with an ominous humming like an angry hornet caught under a
drinking glass.
"Romano just closed up Dave and Kerry's in recovery right now," Luka
smiled wanly. It was a small victory. Despite the past few weeks
everything seemed to be coming up roses, so-to-speak. Granted, it
wasn't perfect, after all, it wasn't every day that one of your
residents shot the ER Chief, but you couldn't be picky. They weren't
dead and that was what was good. They weren't dead.
****
"Kerry... Dr. Weaver. Kerry, can you hear me? Dr. Weaver? Can you hear
me?" The anaethesiologist hovered over the gurney like the spirit of a
dead soldier hovering over its body. Babcock moved restlessly until
Kerry Weaver began to stir on the bed, her eyes fluttering, her
stomach twisting and churning as she realized where she was. The only
pain she felt was the knotting of her stomach, reacting to the
anaesthetic, causing her body to lurch forwards and spew weakly all
over herself and the sheets. What had happened again?? Her memory
foggy remembering the bridge... The gun... A semiautomatic, hair
trigger.. Dangerous piece of machinery. It'd go off if you sneezed.
She'd seen the damage it could do in her ER many times. Now it had
been in the hands of one of her doctors and it'd nearly had killed
them.. Or had it. "Malucci??" she whispered softly, her eyes closing
for a second as she caught her breath. "He's okay?"
"He's fine Kerry... They're bringing him into recovery now... Malucci
arrested, but we regained his rhythm and the rest of the surgery went
smoothly. Dr. Malucci is recovering in post op."
Romano smiled wanly. "He was a tough save, but he had the best working
on him after all," the surgeon puffed out his chest slightly but his
gaze wavered.
Kerry nodded. "That's good..."
****
"Dave?" Elizabeth hovered in the doorway, the man on the bed covered
in wires and tubes. Shuddering, she wrapped her arms around herself
and leaned up against the door frame, her head hung as tears rolled
down her cheeks.
Slowly he opened one eye, then the other, his head heavy and his body
leaden. He felt fuzzy all over and generally uneasy. Slowly he
swallowed, his throat raw and he coughed. Dave's eyes focused,
witnessing the sobbing woman in the entrance and sighed. "Elizabeth?"
Her head snapped up, an expression of stricken disbelief clouding her
face. "I... I just wanted to check on you." She whispered quietly, her
voice choked with tears.
"Yeah, sure you did. You can leave now.." Dave winced, holding in a
breath before painfully exhaling. "Go, Dr. Corday. I want you to go."
"But, Dave... I.. I wanted to apologize." Elizabeth murmured, her
hands clenched and unclenched at her side, before folding them in
front of her and messing with a painful hangnail. "David, I.."
"What? For stringing me along? For.. For making me fall in love with
you?" Dave said bitterly, his eyes glistening with tears. He wished so
much to be able to turn away from her in the bed, but the pain
shuddering through his body were like the strongest 4-point restraints
known to man. "Get out."
"David..." Elizabeth repeated, quietly. "I... I'm sorry... I just.."
Sighing, she walked towards his bed, and pulled up a chair. Pulling
the curtain around his bed, Elizabeth leaned in and planted a warm,
loving kiss on his lips. Taking him in her arms, she pulled him in,
pulled him close as she drank him in passionately. Her breathing
growing heavy as an IV-free hand slipped up her top, kneading a
brassiere covered breast, his fingers slipping inside and tweaking the
nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Elizabeth's breath quickening as she climbed further onto the bed,
pain resonated in his tear-moistened eyes and she faltered slightly,
before Dave pulled her close again. "It's okay..." He whispered in her
ear as his hand slipped gingerly down the front of her pants, popping
the button and zipper expertly from the inside out.
She nodded, allowing his hand to slip further, thrusting her hips
forward a little as Dave's hand kneaded and stroked, her thighs
growing hot as his hand quickened its pace, her breath hitching
slightly, as he suddenly hit the right spot. Her legs nearly buckled
ontop of him, but despite the mind numbing pleasure, she managed to
keep her wits about her. "You sure you want to?" She looked at him
carefully, worriedly. The man had just gone through major surgery and
now he wanted sex... "I'm not sure if this is a very good idea, you
can barely move... I'm afraid I'll hurt you." Elizabeth whispered,
trying to keep her voice down. The nurses had come back from lunch.
Hopefully they'd take the drawn curtains to mean that Dave was taking
a nap. Hopefully.
"There's a reason you're on top. I want this... I'm sure I want it
with you... The thought of not having you. The thought of not spending
my life with you. I..." Dave sighed hoarsely, wiping away a tear. "I'm
sorry... I shouldn't be putting this on you. It's me, it's my own
stupid fault. I can't even kill myself properly, and I nearly killed
another person in the process." He looked at her, stricken. "I didn't
did I?"
Elizabeth shook her head and sighed softly, "Dave..." What had she
done to deserve this? A dead husband, and a young kid of a doctor who
was strangely so in love with her that he tried to kill himself. Were
hate and love so closely related that it caused this sort of strife?
"I mean.. I don't mean to put this all on you. It was my decision, a
stupid cowardly way out. I was feeling sorry for myself. I don't even
have a reason to feel sorry for myself I guess... I mean, I have my
job... I've fucked up so many times. I'm surprised I still have it,
being the constant failure and disappointment that I am. I mean,
you're right. Why should I feel sorry for myself, when you're right!?
Look, just go.. I'm sorry I got you into this." Dave sighed and
struggled to sit up and grunted in pain.
"It's okay. I'm sorry I came in. I just wanted to see how you were. I
don't think you're a bad bloke. I just think you don't try. You're too
aloof. You don't seem to care about our patients as people, and they
are, Dave. They're people, it's our job to fix them. But it's also our
job to make them feel better, to feel like they matter." Shuddering,
Elizabeth slowly climbed off the bed, a hand wiping her face clean of
the sticky tears. "You DO matter, you know. Despite anything I've said
to the contrary. We all do care about you. Why else would Kerry have
come looking for you?"
"It's a little family here, and now it's been knocked off balance, my
husband is gone, Dave. My husband is dead. Your ER looked to him for
guidance, he was the main pivot of everything down there. Everyone's
feeling a little lost right now." She stared at her hands, idly
stroking her left over the right and then switching. A nervous tic
that Dave eyed carefully, she didn't seem aware that she was doing it.
"I-I'm feeling a little lost myself, and it scares me." Elizabeth
swallowed, clearing her throat and straightening up her stance. "S-so
if I overreact a little... I'm sorry. I'm sorry Dave. I... I care
about you too."
Grabbing her stethoscope off the floor, she stood, leaning in and
kissing him softly on the lips. "I'm sorry." Walking from the room,
Dave watched her go, wondering what exactly those two words had meant.
****
The drive home was slow, the traffic backed up and Elizabeth huddled
behind the wheel, a brown paper bag of groceries sitting beside her on
the street, and the radio blaring to drown out her thoughts. All I
have to do is go home and make some dinner, make some dinner and
pretend everything is fine. Because everything is fine. Ella was home
with the sitter, Dani had picked her up from daycare on her way home
from class and the two of them were probably finger painting and
making a bloody mess.
"Photographs and memories. Christmas cards you sent to me. All that I
have are these to remember you."
Elizabeth sniffled, not this song... anything but this song... Even
Lo-fidelity-bloody-Allstars... But not this...
"Memories that come at night. Take me to another time, back to a
happier day. When I called you mine."
God.... Jim Croce... Why bloody Jim??? Why now? Why when she had one
husband dead, and a possible companion laid up in the hospital. Laid
up because she'd nearly killed him with her hateful words. Hateful
words fueled by her own insecurities and sadness. Words that she'd
never meant.
"But we sure had a good time when we started way back when. Morning
walks and bedroom talks. Oh how I loved you then."
If Mark was here... If Mark was here, he'd hold her, kiss the top of
her head, tell her that everything was going to be okay. That he'd be
with her forever, he'd never leave her. But he did! He left. He left
and he hadn't wanted to, it wasn't fair. He never said good-bye. It
wasn't bloody fair. Bloody wedding vows. 'til death do us part.' There
hadn't been a clause in there saying that he'd be dead before their
next wedding anniversary. Nothing that said he wouldn't live to see
his daughters grow up. That he wouldn't see his grandchildren. That
he'd cease to exist. Elizabeth started to sob and the traffic started
to move, albeit slowly.
"Summer skies and lullabies nights we couldn't say good-bye and of all
of the things that we knew. Not a dream survived."
He'd promised her so many things. Summer getaways, to show her the
cottage that his family had in Maine while his Dad had been stationed
there. To swim with his daughters in the same lake he had learned how
to fish. To sleep in the same musty bunk beds. To relive something of
his childhood that he could pass onto his daughters. Now all she had
was broken promises and...
"Photographs and memories all the love you gave to me. Somehow it just
can't be true. That's all I've left of you."
All she had left was the photos, the wedding, the one tacked on the
wall of Mark in his goofy hat and Rachel in the far corner giving him
one of her killer looks. How dare he embarrass her!? Moments after
that photo had been taken, he'd caught that look and thrown his
daughter into a snowbank. The frosty look of death had been replaced
by a surprised squeal of laughter as the daughter and father started a
snowball fight. The birthdays, the Christmas parties. The good times.
"But we sure had a good time when we started way back when. Morning
walks and bedroom talks. Oh how I loved you then...."
Turning the wheel sharply, Elizabeth pulled off the road and slammed
the radio angrily, ceasing it to work. Clenched fists beat the
steering wheel, gripping it as she screamed, anguished wails of pain
as Elizabeth started to sob uncontrollably and slump into her seat.
God... Mark was gone.. Mark was gone and was never coming back. She'd
never make dinner for him. She'd never make his side of the bed, or
pick up his dirty socks off the floor, off the heater or off the
doorknob...
She'd never make him breakfast, Elizabeth would never rouse him with a
kiss, or wake him up with a friendly cock tease. She'd never watch him
struggle to balance work with home and then watch helplessly as he
felt guilty for neglecting Rachel or losing a patient when he picked
family over work.
He'd never come home late from work because he'd been stuck calming
down another orphan caused by a drunk driver. He'd never come home
late because of his tireless need to counsel his staff, whether it be
a struggling med student or a worried co-worker. He'd never come home
again. He was always there for everyone, but he'd always gotten the
short end of the stick. Wasn't rich like Carter, or handsome like
Doug. Didn't have the cute accent like Luka. Elizabeth sighed,
remembering a time when she'd thought that Doug Ross looked like quite
a catch. She'd even fancied him slightly, then found out he was sort
of dating Carol. That's where it had ended. Mark, Mark had been a
good, stable sort. Always seemed to be running into bad luck, but the
fates were against him from day one, one struggle after another,
whether it be a tyrant of a daughter or a beating, or being sued, or a
brain tumour. The struggles never ceased and he never got any of the
glory.
She even knew, guiltily that she sometimes felt that the pairing of
her and Mark had been forced. Both of them had been terribly lonely,
it had been a relationship of convenience. Have someone there and
you'll no longer be lonely. Or so the saying went. Sometimes he
angered her so, choosing Rachel over his own wife. She knew he felt
guilty for having Rachel in St. Louis while he was in Chicago, but
that was his bitch of an ex-wife's fault. Not his.
Why had he been punished?! Why was he dead? Why did he have to leave
me all alone? Elizabeth shuddered with the painful sobs, unending like
they'd never cease. She wished Mark was here to hold her and kiss her
and tell her it'd be all right. He was never coming back.
The She Devil
these two are happy, if not happy with each other. You know I can't
wait for more!
ttyl,
T