By: Emma Day
106625.3210@compuserve.com 

It was just as she remembered it.  The noise, the barely controlled chaos.
It was all so familiar.  Even the smell brought back a host of memories. 
She stood outside the door to the ER, leaning against the wall, and took a deep breath.  
JUST GO IN.  But her knees had turned to water, and her stomach was not much better.  

"Comin' through," a paramedic crew pushed passed, rushing some unfortunate victim through the
double doors.

Almost out of habit, she trailed along behind them.  Inside it was the same as ever.  Some 
faces were familiar, others not.  With her heart racing, she made her way up to the 
reception desk, and looked about.

"Oh my God!" someone called from behind.  She turned to see Carol Hathaway grinning at her.
"What are you doing here?!"

Susan grinned back, and her nerves dissolved.  "Just visiting," she replied, giving Carol a hug.
"I had to stop by."

"So, how are you?"

"Good.  I'm really good.  You?"

"Yeah, good.  For the most part.  You know."  

Another paramedic team burst through the doors.  "Look, I'm afraid you've come at a bad time," 
Carol told her, "But can you hang around?  I get off  in a couple of hours. 
We'll go for a drink."

"That'd be great."

Carol turned to go.  "Carol," Susan called. 

"Yeah?"

"Umm, is Mark...?"

"Yeah, he's around.  Go see him."  

Susan grinned, and laughed sheepishly.  "Of course."

                                  ***

Just as Mark took the first bite of his sandwich, his pager bleeped at him.  The ER.  Of course.
Standing up, he stuffed as much sandwich as he could into his mouth, and headed upstairs. 
It hadn't been a bad day, just a long one. One more hour, and he could go home and sleep.  Bliss.

He took the stairs two at a time, and when he rounded the corner at the top he stopped so fast
he nearly choked on his sandwich.  Not more that ten feet away, with her back to him, stood 
Susan Lewis.  He had no doubt.  She was talking to Randi, and he would recognise her laugh 
anywhere. Turning around he fled back down the stairs, his heart thudding and his mouth so 
dry he could hardly swallow his sandwich.  

OH MY GOD, WHAT'S SHE DOING HERE?  he thought.  OH GOD, OH GOD.  I'M NOT READY FOR THIS. 
His mind instantly rushed back to that awful day when he had last seen her.  
That terrible look of pity on her face when she's said, I'M SORRY MARK. 
"God, I why did I ever listen to Doug's advice?"

His pager bleeped again.  I HAVE TO GO UP THERE. The realisation sent a cold shudder
through him.  OK, YOU CAN DO THIS, he told himself.  JUST ACT NATURALLY.  
IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO HER SINCE IT HAPPENED. 

JUST BE COOL. He grimaced to himself.  SOME CHANCE.  The phone was one thing.  
Real life...just seeing her had sent him into a flat spin. He shook his head. JUST DO IT. 

He peered warily around the wall at the top of the stairs.  She was still there, 
chatting to Randi.  Straightening his shoulders, he walked towards her.  Passed her.
She hadn't noticed!

"Mark!"

He stopped.  OH GOD, OH GOD.  Slowly he turned around, and there she was, grinning up at him.

"Surprise!"

"Hello Susan," was all he managed to say.

"I'm here for a medical conference, and I thought I'd surprise you all, so here...."

She was babbling and embarrassed.  He was so embarrassed he couldn't meet her eyes, 
and didn't hear a word that she was saying.  All he could think of was the last time 
they had met.  WHY DID I DO IT?  WHY?

His pager beeped again, and broke the spell. "I have to go," he blurted, interrupting her, 
"I'm sorry." He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head as he walked away. 

"You all right Mark?" Doug asked, as Mark rushed into the trauma room.

"Fine," he replied, hearing the tension in his own voice.  "What have we got?"

Doug explained the details of the case, and Mark concentrated as hard as  he ever had.
Anything, to keep his mind from that last, painfully embarrassed conversation.   

                                  ***

Susan retreated from the chaos into the relative quiet of the doctor's lounge. 
She saw her old locker - it had a different name on it now - and sighed.  
Walking to the window, she leaned against the wall and stared out.

Everything had changed.  He hadn't smiled when he saw her.  He looked like he wished he were
a thousand miles away - or that she was.  She should have called.  He hadn't even looked at
her, he just stood there fidgeting, and shuffling his feet.  This wasn't what she'd imagined.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? she asked herself.  But she couldn't answer that one.

She couldn't understand why he had looked so embarrassed.  It wasn't like they hadn't 
spoken since she left. 

"Hey Dr Lewis, I heard you were back."  Carter poked his head around the door.

"Just visiting," she told him.  "How's it going?"

"Good."  He grinned.  "Sorry, got to go, we're busy."

"I noticed."

"Want to lend a hand?"

"Oh no," she laughed.  "But thanks for the offer."

"Anytime."  PERHAPS HE WAS JUST SHOCKED TO SEE ME.  She thought as she sank down into a chair.
I SHOULD HAVE CALLED.  THIS WASN'T FAIR.  

The chair was comfortable, and the long, sleepless journey was catching up with her. 
She yawned, and considered going back to the hotel.  But, she was comfy where she was, 
and she'd agreed to meet Carol.  She yawned again, and closed her eyes. 
Sleep drifted in quietly, and she sank into it with relief.

A sudden noise startled her, and she sat up with a jolt. Mark was half way through the
door, staring at her.

"Hi," she said.  "I was asleep."

"I didn't know you were here, sorry...."

"That's OK," she yawned and stretched.  "How's it going out there?" 

"Ok.  It's pretty quiet now."

An awkward silence lengthened between them.  Mark didn't look 
at her, but walked over to his locker.  He looked like he was about to go home.  

"So, how long are you in Chicago?" he asked, breaking the silence.  He stood at his locker, 
with his back to her.  She knew him well enough to recognise the strain in his voice.

"A week," she replied.  

"That's...nice."

He grabbed his coat, closed the locker and turned to face her.  "Maybe we'll see you again
while you're here?" His eyes roamed about the room, looking at the floor, the door, anywhere 
but at her. "I hope so."

He nodded.  "Good. Well, I have to go."  He looked up at her for a split second, and gave a
tight smile, before he headed for the door.

"Mark?" 

"What?"

"I'm going for a drink with Carol and some of the others later, do you want to come?"

"Tonight?"

She laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.  "Yeah, at about ten."

"I'd love to, but I've already made plans."

"Can't you change them?"

He looked up at that, and she was surprised to see a flash of anger in his eyes. 
"Just like that?"  he said.  "You turn up out of the blue, and I'm expected to drop
everything?"

"No!"  She was taken aback at his tone.

He pressed a hand to his eyes, and shook his head slowly.  "I'm sorry, Susan," he said wearily.
"It's been a long day."

"Aren't they all?"

He smiled slightly at that, and dropped his hand to his side.  "I'll try  to make it if I can."

"Great," she grinned at him, and a smile crept, almost reluctantly, over his face.  
"It's good to see you Mark," she said, walking over to him.

"It's been a long time," he said.  Even as the words left his mouth, he dropped his eyes and she
saw his face colour.  She knew they must both be thinking of their last parting.  She felt her
cheeks get hot, and was glad she didn't have to meet his eyes.

"Mark, I..."

The door flew open and Doug bowled in.  "Susan...Hi.  Carol told me..." he stopped when he saw
Mark.  "Oh, am I interrupting?"

"No!" they said together.

"I was just going," Mark walked quickly to the door.  "See you later," he said, and left without
looking at her again.

Susan watched him go.  "Is he Ok?" she asked Doug.

He shrugged.  "I guess.  He's better than he was.  He took it pretty hard when you left."

"He did?  He never said anything."

"You know Mark."  Doug poured himself a coffee.  "But he didn't need to say anything did he?
You must have known, after what happened at the station."

"He told you about that?"

"You broke his heart, Susan."

"Don't say that," she sat down heavily.  "I didn't want to hurt him, but what could I do?  I had
 to go."

Doug drank his coffee in silence.  

"Anyway," she continued,  "that's all in the past now.  We've both moved  on with our lives."

"I guess you have," Doug replied.  "So, you mind if I drop in on you and Carol later?"

"Sure," she said with a smile.  "Why not?"

                                  ***

Mark sat on the train home, staring at nothing.  He felt his world turning upside down again. 
Just when he thought he was moving on, putting her behind him, there she was staring him in the
face.  It just wasn't fair. 

He could handle it on the phone.  He could make himself sound like he should, say what he should.
But not in person.  Her presence was too strong, his arms ached to hold her; their separation had
done more to strengthen than to quench the desire.  His heart ached. There was no other way to
describe it, the pain was as real and tangible as ever it had been.

Eight months it had taken him to reach this point of equanimity, and in one hour she had
overturned all his hard work.  And in six days she would be gone.  In and out of his life,
turning it upside down and abandoning it again.

He closed his eyes.  Perhaps if he'd had some warning, he could have prepared himself.  But the
shock of just seeing her there, so achingly familiar, had been too much.  He shook his head.  If
only she'd called first.  But it was just like her.  She'd decided to leave without even
mentioning it to him.  She did what she liked, without any thought for him or anyone else.  He
frowned.  YOU'RE GETTING BITTER, MARK GREENE, he told himself.  But so what?

By the time he got home it was nearly ten, and he decided not to go meet Susan and Carol.  He
slumped on the sofa, and watched TV.  MY PLANS, he told himself, ARE TO EAT, DRINK AND SLEEP.  

The television burbled in the background, but Mark could think of nothing but Susan.  She had
been going to say something earlier, before Doug had walked in.  He shuddered to think what it
might have been.  I'M SORRY I HURT YOU.  WE CAN STILL BE FRIENDS.  YOU'LL FIND SOMEONE ELSE.  He
groaned aloud.  He couldn't bare that.  Of all things, he never wanted her to look at him with
that expression of pity he had seen at Union Station.

He sighed.  She was here for a week.  It was too long, and it was too short.  Too long to suffer
his reawakened hurt.  Too short to rebuild their friendship.  He had to do something; he had to
protect himself.

At length, sleep claimed him, and Mark drifted into an uneasy, restless slumber.


                                  ***

He woke late, stiff from sleeping on the sofa.  The TV was still on.  He sat up, stretched, and
hunted for the remote.  He was on a day off, and glad of it.  After showering, he went out for a
paper, and came back to find his answer-phone flashing at him.  He played the message as he made
breakfast.

"Hi, Mark, it's Susan.  Just calling to say I'm sorry you didn't make it last night, but Carol's
having a little party round at her place tonight, and I hope you can come to that.  I think it
starts at eightish.  Well, hope to see you there.  Bye!  Oh, today's Wednesday, by the way."

He was glad he had missed her call.  He didn't want talk to her.  Well, that was a lie.  He
longed to talk to her, but it was just too painful. 

Carol's party was a problem, though.  He knew he would have to go.  If he didn't, Susan would
know he was avoiding her, and then she'd want to know why.  He couldn't face another scene. 
JUST GET IT OVER WITH, he told himself.  Just play the part, and she'll be gone.

The thought struck him hard.  GET IT OVER WITH.  She used to be a bright point in his life; even
her name used to make him smile.  But everything had changed.  Now she was a cause of pain, a 
dark shadow best avoided. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself.  "Why did I ever do it?  If only...."  But that was a dead end
he'd been down a hundred times.  It was done.  It had happened, and now he had to deal with it.

The phone rang again, and he let it.  Eventually his machine picked up. 

"Hi this is Mark, I'm not here right now.  Leave a message." 

"Hey Mark, it's Doug.  Pick up.  I know you're there.  Pick up the phone Mark."

Knowing he'd regret it, Mark did as he was asked.

"I was in the shower," he lied.

"Right," Doug said.  "So, where were you last night?"

"Sleeping.  I was shattered."

"Susan missed you."

"Oh," He kept his voice as even as he could.  "That makes a change."

"Come on Mark," Doug insisted.  "I know what this is."

"What 'what' is?"

"You're avoiding her."

"What if I am?"

"She talked about you all evening."

Mark cringed.  He could just imagine it.   POOR MARK, I REALLY HURT HIM. IS HE OK?  He closed
his eyes.  "What do you want, Doug?"

"Carol's having a party tonight.  You should come along."

"I'll think about it."

"Just do it Mark.  You think too much."

"Bye Doug."

"Be there."

"Goodbye."

Putting the phone down, Mark knew Doug was right.  Maybe he could just stay for half an hour,
show his face and leave.  Suddenly a thought hit him, and a slow, dark smile crossed his lips.
Of course.  It was obvious what he had to do.  With a thumping heart, he reached for the
telephone again.

                                  ***                                    

"This place looks great," Susan told Carol.  "You've done a lot of work on it."

"Well, it needed it.  Here, take these," Carol handed her a bowl of chips.  After a pause, she
asked, "So, did you call Mark?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, but I just got his machine."  Susan frowned.  "Carol, I think he's
avoiding  me."

"Why do you say that?"

"He was acting pretty odd yesterday, don't you think?  And I thought he'd come out last night,
but...."

"He probably just needed some time to get used to seeing you again.  I'm sure he'll be here
tonight."

"I hope so, I really miss him."

Carol smiled.  "I bet."

"What?"

"Nothing.  Help me with this keg, will you?"

                                  ***

Susan found herself hovering near the front door, but was disappointed each time it opened.  At
last she gave up, and made her way into the kitchen to find a beer.

He wasn't coming.  That was clear.  What wasn't clear to her was why.  What had she done?  She 
had spoken to him only three weeks earlier, and everything had been fine.  She paused, and her
brow creased into a frown.

Thinking back on it perhaps things had been a little strained, but they'd still parted as friends.
Why was he so different now? She was so lost in her thoughts, that she didn't hear Carol enter, 
and nearly jumped out of her skin when she jabbed her in the ribs.

"Guess who's just pulled up outside?" Carol asked with a wide grin.

Susan didn't have to ask. She felt her mouth stretch into a broad smile. "I knew he'd come," she
said, unconsciously running a hand through her hair.

Carol's grin matched her own.  "Go open the door then!"

Susan took a deep breath, and was surprised to feel her heart thundering  in her chest.  IT'S
JUST MARK, she reminded herself, without much success. For some reason, it wasn't JUST MARK any
more.   Composing herself she opened the door.

"Hey Mark," she grinned.  And then stopped dead.  Her grin turned sickly, and fixed to her face.
Mark was walking up the drive with his arm firmly about the waist of a tall, striking brunette.  

"Hi Susan," Mark said as they climbed up the porch steps.  "How's it going?"  He looked shy, and
didn't quite meet her eye.  Before she could answer, he rushed on.  "Let me introduce you to a
good friend of mine, Bernadette Conley.  She's a psychologist over at Hope.  Bernie, this is
Susan Lewis."

"Hi," Bernie said smiling.  "Mark's told me a lot about you."

I WISH I COULD SAY THE SAME, Susan thought, but if she said anything, she hardly knew what.  She
supposed she must have said something, because they both smiled at her and walked on into Carol's
house.  Susan was left holding the door open, and feeling as if the rest of the house was crashing
about her ears.  No one had told her about Bernadette.

Her stomach churned and she felt sick.  Her eyes blurred with unexpected tears, and the air in
the room suddenly became too thick to breath.  Hardly knowing what she did, she walked out into 
the warm night, and closed the door behind her.

HE'S WITH SOMEONE ELSE.  The realisation came like a lightning bolt, and illuminated everything.
It all became brilliantly, horribly clear.  He was with Bernadette; no surprise he was avoiding
her.  He probably didn't know how to tell her.  He was with Bernadette.  He didn't love her any
more. 

She knew she should be glad for him; he was her best friend.  She laughed a low, bitter laugh.
It was impossible.  BEST FRIEND?  She could hardly believe herself.  The light had illuminated
more than she would have liked - it had exposed her own feelings too.  She recognised the truth
as soon as it crashed in on her.  She loved him.  She had always admitted that much. She loved 
him, but more than that, she was IN LOVE with him.

The truth hit her like a blow, and she sat down heavily under its weight.
 
Tears blurred her vision again.  WHAT HAVE I DONE? she asked herself.  OH GOD, HOW WAS I SO 
BLIND?  Her head sank into her hands and tears leaked from her eyes.  I  REALISE I LOVE HIM, AND
NOW I'VE LOST HIM.  ONLY I COULD MANAGE ALL THAT IN ONE NIGHT.  She tried to laughed again, but
it threatened to turn into a sob, so she stifled it.   

"You OK, Dr Lewis?"  Carter was standing at the bottom of the porch steps.

She looked up quickly, and wiped self-consciously at her eyes.  "Fine, Cater."  Her voice
trembled, but she ignored it.  "I'm glad you could make it."

"Are you crying?" he asked, taking a step closer.

"No," she stood up abruptly.  "I just needed some air, is all."

"Ok," he said cautiously.  "So, shall we go in?"

"Go ahead," she told him, forcing her voice into composure.  "I think I might stay here for a 
while.  It's a nice night."

Carter looked up into the clear night sky.  "Yes, it is," he agreed.  "Do you want some company?"

She smiled sadly at him, and felt her eyes fill again.  Turning away, she said, "I think I'd
like to be alone for a while."

Carter shrugged and walked up the steps.  "Ok, but don't be too long.  This party's meant to be
for you, don't forget."

She nodded.  "I know.  Don't worry."

Light, music and laughter burst through the door as Carter entered Carol's house, but it washed
over Susan.  Her heart was lead, and her world had suddenly turned grey.  HE DOESN'T LOVE ME ANY
MORE.  It was only now, when it was too late, that she realised just how important his love was 
to her.

She had never felt so alone.  He had always been there for her, but now she had lost him.  Tears
threatened again, but she forced them back.  Somehow, she had to get through the rest of the 
evening.  She squared her shoulders against the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her, and with
a determined, if trembling hand, opened the door and returned to the party. 

                                  ***

Mark scanned the room, but couldn't see Susan.  He noticed a number of curious glances directed 
towards himself and Bernadette.  It gave him a kind of grim satisfaction.  They probably all
assumed he would spend the night trailing after Susan like a puppy dog.  So, let them wonder.  
He just wished he knew what Susan was thinking.  She HAD been surprised.  He was sure of that, 
and for a moment he felt a pang of guilt.  Perhaps he should have called her first to warn her, 
she was meant to be his friend after all.  But no, she was the one who had turned up out of the 
blue.  He was just trying to keep his world together.  In a few days, she'd leave again  - what 
did any of it matter?

"It's great to meet all of your friends at last," Bernie said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sure," he replied, trying to smile at her.  "Shall we find a drink?"

She smiled back at him, and squeezed his hand.  "Lead the way!"

Bernadette Conley was beautiful, and intelligent, incredibly sexy, and...yet she did nothing for
him.  They had been out a couple of times, but he hadn't planned to call her again.  He DID feel
guilty about that. 

He'd only brought her tonight because of Susan.  He knew he wouldn't call her again.  But so
what?  When it came to women, he knew from experience that it was the nice guys who got hurt.

Carol and Doug were standing together in the kitchen, laughing about something.

"Hi," Mark said, trying to avoid meeting their eyes.  He knew exactly what they would think about
his date.

"Where's the beer?" he asked.

"On the counter," Carol told him, a million questions in her voice.

"Hi, I'm Doug," Doug introduced himself to Bernie.  "Are you with Mark?"

"Yes, I'm Bernadette Conley," she replied with a smile.  "I guess you're Doug Ross?  Mark's told
me all about you.  And you must be Carol," she continued, turning to Carol.

"That's right."

Mark saw Doug and Carol exchange a glance.  "So, what do you do?" Carol asked Bernie.

Doug put a hand on Mark's shoulder.  "Could I have a word with you?" he asked propelling him out
of the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing?" Doug hissed in Mark's ear, as soon as the kitchen door closed 
behind them.

Mark shook free, and turned to face him.

"You wanted me to come, so here I am," he snapped back.  "What's the problem?"

"Does this make it easier for you?" Doug asked, frowning down at he shoes.

"Yes," Mark took a swig of his beer.

"I see," Doug looked up,  "she hurt you, so now you hurt her back?"

"I'm not hurting anyone."  He looked away as he said that.  It wasn't quite true, but he shrugged
Bernadette out of his mind.  He doubted she'd really care.

"You don't think this will hurt Susan?" Doug asked.

"We're just FRIENDS," he replied, shocked at the bitterness he heard in his voice.  His jaw 
clenched.  "That's the way she wanted it."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Doug, she moved to Phoenix.  I'm pretty sure!"

At that point Carter joined them.  "Hey, is Dr Lewis Ok?" he asked.  "I just came in, and she was
sitting outside.  I think she was crying."

Mark felt his heart thud, and his stomach squirmed.  Doug gave him a very significant look.  SHE 
WAS CRYING?  DID I MAKE HER CRY?  I DIDN'T MEAN TO.

He stopped himself.  Of course he'd meant to.  "I'll go see if she's Ok," he said, starting to 
push his way through the crush of people.

"Hold on," Carter grabbed his sleeve as he passed.  "There she is."  He nodded over to the other 
side of the room.  Susan was chatting to Randi and some of the nurses, laughing a little.  As
he looked, she glanced in his direction, but withdrew her gaze as soon as she saw him watching her.  "She looks all right," he said quietly.

"Why don't you go talk to her anyway?" Doug asked.  He draped an arm over Carter's shoulder. 
"Carter and I need to find more beer!"

"Not me," Carter told him, as they left.  "I'm due on in an hour."

Doug's reply was cut off by the bang of the kitchen door.  

Mark continued watching Susan.  JUST GO AND TALK TO HER, he told himself. YOU CAN'T JUST IGNORE 
HER.  IT'S NOT FAIR.

Gritting his teeth, he headed through the crowd.  When he was nearly there his courage almost
failed, but just as he was about to back off, she turned around.

"Oh," was all she said.

"Hi, Susan." He forced a smile.  "So...nice party."

She nodded.  "It was a good of Carol."

"Yeah."  He couldn't think of anything else to say, so took a swig of beer to cover the awkward
silence.  He nearly choked when Susan said: "So, how long have you been seeing Bernadette?"

"Oh," he spluttered, "only a few months.  Since you've been gone, really.

DON'T LIE, YOU IDIOT, he screamed at himself, too late.

Susan smiled awkwardly, but the smile failed to reach her eyes.  "I'm happy for you," she said in
a tight voice, "Bernadette seems really nice."

Mark felt his heart racing, and his mouth go dry.  "Oh, well she's..."

"...right here, sweetheart!"  Bernadette slipped an arm about his waist. 

"Did you miss me?"

He laughed, or at least tried to, but wasn't convinced he had succeeded.

"I've just been talking to Carol Hathaway," Bernie continued.  "She's great isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Susan said quietly.

"I am so glad to meet you at last," Bernadette told her.  "Mark talks about you all the time."

"Does he?" she looked up at him, and almost smiled.  

Looking away sharply, he said "I think you're exaggerating a little."

Bernie laughed.  "Hardly," she grabbed Susan's hand, and winked at her.

"If you didn't live in Arizona, I'd probably be jealous."

Susan only smiled a thin smile, and gently pulled her hand away.  Mark thought he was going to 
die with embarrassment.  "Do you want to dance?" he asked, desperate to get Bernie away from Susan.

"Sure," Bernie and Susan answered together.

Susan's hand went immediately to her mouth.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said hastily.  Her cheeks were 
turning scarlet.  "Oh, there's Carol.  I'll see you later."  Without another look at Mark, she 
hurried away through the crowd.  He watched her go in frustration.  IT'S YOUR OWN DAMN FAULT, he 
told himself bitterly.   

As he danced slowly with Bernadette she laid her head against his chest.  

His pulse slowed, now that Susan was out of sight.  THINK ABOUT IT, he told himself.   THIS IS 
FOR THE BEST.  IF YOU'D DANCED WITH HER, THEN WHAT?  IT WOULDN'T CHANGE ANYTHING.  SHE'S STILL
LEAVING AT THE END OF THE WEEK.  He sighed, and closed his eyes, trying not to remember dancing 
with her. Trying not to remember how she'd felt in his arms.  THIS IS FOR THE BEST.
  
                                 ***                                     

Susan leaned back against the wall and tried to swallow the lump that rose in her throat.  She
watched them dance, her head on his chest, his eyes closed.  It was over.  She had lost him.  It was too hard to watch, yet  she could hardly tear her eyes away.  


"Susan?" Carol's voice reached her through the music.  "Are you Ok, Carter said he saw you 
crying."

"What?" she heard the snap in her voice, and cringed.  "Sorry, Carol.  I guess I'm just a bit..." her eyes strayed back to Mark and Bernie, and Carol followed her gaze.

"I don't think they're that serious," Carol offered.

Susan shook her head.  "He's been seeing her since I left."

"What?" Carol raised a speculative eyebrow.  "I don't think so."

"He just told me."

"Susan," Carol said, turning to face her.  "I wont deny that Mark's dated quite a lot in the last
few months, but I've never seen Bernadette Conley before.  And neither's Doug."

Susan frowned.  "You know how reserved Mark is.  If it was serious, he would want to keep it
quiet."

Carol shrugged.  "Maybe."

"He wouldn't lie to me."

"If you say so."

The rest of the evening lasted forever.  She didn't speak to  Mark again, and he seemed as eager 
to avoid her as she was to avoid him.  Her heart sank into her belly, and it was all she could do
to stay in the room. 

Occasionally she thought he  looked at her, but when she tried to catch his eye, his gaze always
seemed to be slipping away from her.  

At last people started to leave.  The crowd thinned a little, and the music mellowed.  With 
relief, Susan headed for the bedroom to fetch her jacket.
 
Just as she reached the door, Mark and Bernie came out.  He was helping her on with her coat. 
There was no avoiding it.  She had to talk to them. 

"You're leaving then?" she asked.  

"Yeah, that's why we're putting on our coats," Bernie said, with a drunken giggle.

Mark looked embarrassed.  "Well, it was good to see you again, Susan," he said, not quite looking
at her.

"You too," she replied.  GOD THIS IS AWKWARD. She tried to smile.  Eight months ago, they'd have
parted with a friendly hug.  Not knowing what else to do, she stuck out her hand.  Mark shook it with a look of disbelief on his face.  For a moment their eyes met, and she thought she saw in his a reflection of her own sorrow.  But then he looked away, and dropped her hand.  He held Bernie's instead.  "Goodbye Susan," he said in a quiet voice, and they turned and walked away.

She thought her heart would break.  Her stomach screwed itself into a knot, and tears flooded her 
eyes.  She knew, with a dreadful certainty, that she would never see him again. 

Hardly aware of what she did, she fetched her jacket.  Somehow she thanked Carol for the party, 
resisted the offered lift to her hotel, and made it out of the front door.  The night was mild, 
and she started walking.  Her thoughts were too deranged for anything else.   Cars passed her,
people pushed by, laughing and talking.  None of it was part of her world.  She thought back to 
their parting eight months earlier.  What a contrast it provided!  She shook her head in angry 
disbelief.  STAY.  I LOVE YOU. WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER.  She could hear his voice too clearly,
see the look on his face.  WHY DID I DO IT? she wondered to herself.  HOW COULD I HAVE GOTTEN ON
THAT TRAIN?  And now it was too late.  How different their recent parting had been - a cold
handshake.  Mark had walked away from her, hand in hand with another woman.  

She frowned at the thought.  They had probably gone back to his - HER - apartment to....She 
refused to think about that!  Yet, she couldn't help it.  HER apartment!  The very idea made her
stomach twist with jealousy. 

SHE'S PROBABLY MOVED IN ALREADY, she realised.  PLAYING HAPPY FAMILIES IN MY APARTMENT!  Anger 
made her walk faster, her breath coming rapidly. 

Suddenly she stopped dead.  Carol had said she'd never seen Bernie (curse the woman) before.  
Surely, if they were living together, he would have mentioned her?  Hope, slight but determined, 
rose in her heart.  Perhaps they weren't THAT serious?  Suddenly she had to know.  For good or 
ill, she had to know the truth.  She started walking, but this time in a new direction.

                                  ***

The cab dropped her just outside.  Looking up, she was suddenly afraid that this was not such a 
good idea.  IF THE LIGHTS ARE ON, I'LL KNOW THEY'RE IN,  she told herself.  I'LL KNOW WHAT THAT 
MEANS, AND THEN I'LL LEAVE.  With  a heart racing, she walked around to the side of the building, and looked up towards her - Mark's - apartment.  She sighed with relief, when she saw the
windows were dark.

THEY'RE NOT HERE!  She smiled for the first time in hours.  But her jubilation didn't last long.  THEY MUST BE AT HER PLACE, she realised. UNLESS, THEY'RE ALREADY IN BED.  Her heart started thudding in her chest again.  I WONDER IF HER NAME'S ON THE MAIL BOX?  Her hand inched towards her purse.  The key was in there.  She looked up again at the dark windows.  THERE'S NO ONE IN, SHE TOLD HERSELF.  JUST GO BACK TO THE HOTEL AND GO TO BED.  But even as she thought it, she found herself walking towards the entrance.  DON'T DO IT, she shouted at herself, but to no avail.  I'LL JUST LOOK AT THE MAIL BOX.  I HAVE TO KNOW THE TRUTH!  All was silence in the
lobby.  She found her old mail box and smiled; Mark Greene, was all it said.  Fondly, she touched
his name with one finger, and looked over towards the elevator.  DON'T GO UP THERE, she warned 
herself.  BUT I HAVE TO KNOW!  I'LL JUST SEE IF I CAN HEAR ANYTHING AT THE DOOR.  

Her knees were shaking as she walked down the familiar corridor towards her old apartment.  It 
all looked the same.  WHY DID I EVER LEAVE?  

She stopped outside the door.  The elevator whirred into motion behind her, and she nearly jumped
into the air.  WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? she asked herself again.  Casting a furtive look
around, she leaned up against the door, listening.  Nothing.  All was silence.  RIGHT.  THEY'RE 
NOT THERE, NOW GO BACK TO THE HOTEL!  She didn't move.  IF THEY'RE SERIOUS SHE'LL HAVE HER 
TOOTHBRUSH IN THE BATHROOM.  The thought just popped into her head, and stubbornly lodged there.  It wouldn't take long to check. 

Just pop in.  She'd be able to tell quick enough.  Her hands trembled as she tried to fit the key
in the lock, all the while her mind was shouting at her; THIS IS CRAZY.  HAVE YOU LOST YOUR
MIND?  GO! DON'T DO IT!  She did it anyway.  

The lock released, and she gently pushed on the door.  Her heart was thundering so loud, she was 
sure it would wake the whole block.  

"Mark?" she whispered into the darkness.  There was no answer.  She took  a step inside.  "Mark?
Are you here?" she called a little louder.  Still there was no answer.  With shaking hands, she 
flicked the light switch, and spun around, almost ready to run. But she was alone.  She released 
the breath she had been unwittingly holding, and closed the door behind her. 

Looking around, the apartment looked familiar, and yet totally different. 

It didn't look like Mark spent a lot of time there.  Remembering her mission, she walked quickly
into the bathroom.  Only one toothbrush.  She smiled to herself, and then shook her head.  YOU'RE
CRAZY.  THIS IS PROBABLY SOME KIND OF CRIME.  She knew it, but couldn't regret coming.   

Walking back into the lounge, she looked about for any photographs of Mark and Bernie.  She saw a
picture of Rachel, on top of a small, open desk, but nothing more.  She picked up the photograph 
and smiled, as she picked out Mark's features in his daughter's face.

She glanced down at the desk.  It was full of all sorts of papers, stuffed into unorganised 
piles.  She was about to turn away, when something caught her eye.  Sticking out of a small 
drawer at the back of the desk was a piece of paper with her name written on it.  At least, it
said Susan.  Her fingers clenched into fists as she looked, and willed herself to do the right
thing.  DON'T LOOK AT IT, she told herself.  IT'S PRIVATE.  She stared at it some more, and her 
fingers started to tingle with anticipation.  YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE WHAT YOU SEE.  Her heart raced, 
and she found herself breathing very fast.  JUST ONE PEEK.  JUST TO SEE IF IT'S ME.

She knew she shouldn't do it, she hated herself for doing it, but she did it anyway.  With 
shaking hands, she pulled open the little draw, and drew out the paper.  She instantly saw that 
it was a letter.  Actually, a  number of letters.  They were all addressed to her, and dated
variously throughout the past eight months.

Her knees had turned to water, and her hands shook so hard that she was forced to lay the letters
in the desk and sit down to read them.  THIS IS SO WRONG, she told herself, even as her eyes 
devoured the first words. 

They turned her heart to liquid.

"Susan," she read, "You have been gone four hours already, and it seems like forever.  I can 
still taste your kiss, and feel your touch.  If I close my eyes, I can hear your voice, and see 
your beautiful smile.  Was it only this morning, that we were working together?  It feels like a
world away, a whole other life away.  How will I bear this?  How can I live my life without you?
I never knew how much I loved you until the moment I knew I had lost you.  But perhaps I never 
had you.  If you felt a thousandth part of the love I feel for you, you couldn't have left me 
today.  My heart is broken Susan.  You've broken my heart.  And, without
you here, who can I turn to for comfort?"  

Susan sniffed, and wiped at the bitter tears that flooded her eyes.  WHAT HAVE I DONE?  Without 
pausing, she turned to the next letter.  It was dated a week later.

"I spoke to you this evening, Susan," it began, "you sounded distant and embarrassed.  So was I.  I wanted to talk about what happened at the station, but I didn't have the courage.  No surprise there.  I didn't even
send the letter I wrote you.  Perhaps you want to forget it.  Perhaps that's the best idea.  You 
made it clear - our lives are going in different directions now.  I don't know what direction 
yours is going, but mine's definitely going downhill.  I miss you every day, every second.  At 
work,  I expect to see you all the time.  In the lounge, in the canteen, at the admissions desk.  I remember you everywhere.  I saw your locker  yesterday, without your name, and it really hurt.  I mean physical pain.   I wake up every morning, and know that you are gone.  I go to sleep every night thinking of you.  God, I wish I could get over this.  I know it's only been a week, but it feels like forever.  I love you, Susan.  But it hurts, it really hurts.

She put the letters down.  She'd had no idea that she had hurt him so much. 

Truthfully, she knew, she had tried not to think about it.  It had made her feel too guilty.  HE
MUST HATE ME, she realised with an icy shiver that stopped her warm tears.  AFTER ALL THAT, HE 
MUST HATE ME.  She returned her eyes to the letters, and shuffled through them, searching for the
date. 

When she saw one dated that morning, her heart jolted painfully.  She let the others fall from 
her numb fingers as she started to read the letter. 

Terror at what she might find blurred her vision, and she had to blink several times before she 
could focus on the words.

"You came back yesterday.  I saw you in the ER.  How could you do that, and not even warn me?  
Just when I thought I was getting my life back into some kind of order, you show up and turn it 
all upside down.  You looked the same as ever.  I could hardly look at you.  Why is it so much 
harder in person?  On the phone, I can deal with you.  I thought I was getting over you, but I 
wasn't.  I was just repressing it all, pretending to myself that I was Ok.  But when I saw you, 
it all came crashing in.  You were standing about two feet away.  I could hear your breathing, 
smell your hair.  But there was this thing between us.  Like a wall.  If only I hadn't said 
anything before you left, perhaps things could have stayed the same.  But now it's all changed.
You look at me with pity.  That awful look I saw when you left.  We can't be friends any more.  
Everything's changed.  Everything, except..". 

Susan heard a key turn in the door.  "Shit!" she hissed, jumping to her feet and knocking over 
the chair in her haste.  Desperately, she tried to stuff the letters back into the drawer, but it
was too late.

"Jesus!"  Mark yelped, startled.  "Susan...?"

She turned to face him with guilt written in every feature.  "Mark I...." 

"How did you...?"  He was staring at her in astonishment, until his gaze fell on the letter
she still held in her hand.  His eyes blazed in sudden anger, and his face went dark. 
"What are you doing?"

In two quick strides he was in front of her, snatching the letter from her hand.  He glanced 
at it once, and screwed it up in his fist, glaring at her open mouthed.  "How dare you?" 
he said at last.  His voice was cold fury.

"I'm sorry," she babbled, shame making her voice thick.  "I didn't mean to, I just saw my
name and I..."

He turned away from her, and stood staring out of the window, his back to her.  "Did you
read them all?" he asked in a terribly controlled voice. 

She could see his hand shaking as he rested it against the window frame.

"Some of them," she admitted.  "Mark I didn't know how you felt..."

He spun around to face her.  "What?" he snapped.  "Of course you knew.  I TOLD you!  You do 
remember what happened at the station, don't you?"  His voice was heavy with bitter sarcasm.

"You didn't tell me all this."

He closed his eyes, seeking control.  "You knew Susan," he said.   

"How did I know?" she asked, suddenly angry.  "You waited until I was on the train, before you
told me how you felt.  And then you never mentioned it again.  How am I supposed to know anything
from that?"   

He scowled at the floor.  "You knew how I felt, and you didn't want me,"  he said in a voice
thick with emotion.  "You made that clear."

"I didn't make anything clear!" she exclaimed.  

He gave a short laugh, and looked up, his eyes bitter.  "You left, Susan. That was pretty clear."

"Damn it Mark!" She was almost shouting at him.  "The train was practically pulling out of the 
station.  What the hell did you expect me to do?  Jump off and leave everything?  Leave my new 
job, my career?  What?"

He glared at her in silence for a moment, before his eyes softened into confusion, and he looked 
away. "I don't know," he said.  "I just know that I couldn't have left YOU like that."

She felt her chest constricting as he spoke, and took an involuntary step towards him.  

Her movement caught his eye, and he looked up.  Stepping backward, he straightened his shoulders.
"Well, it's done now," he said in a cold voice.  "It's too late to change anything."

"Is it?" she asked quietly.

"Everything's changed, Susan."

EVERYTHING'S CHANGED.  It was the truth, and how it hurt.  If only she'd known, really known, how
he felt.  If only she'd known her OWN heart.  If only.... But now he had Bernadette, and 
everything had changed.  

"I didn't know how much you were hurting," she told him in a sad voice.   "I never meant to hurt 
you."  She saw him wince at that.       

"Please don't pity me," he said.

"I don't, Mark.  Why should I?  You have Bernadette," if that came out as bitter, she didn't 
care.  "I have no one."

Mark turned away from her.  He picked up the chair she had knocked over, and started gathering up
the letters that were scattered across the desk.

"Why didn't you send them?" she asked softly.  

"Because you wouldn't have wanted to get them," he snapped.  He had his back to her as he spoke,
but she could see his hands shaking as he tidied the letters away.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be."  He slammed the desk shut, and walked passed her towards the kitchen.  "It's not your
fault."

"I wish you'd sent them."

He turned, his face pale.  "What do you want from me Susan?" he asked bitterly.

She was silent for a moment.  The truth, she thought.   Why not?  That's why you came here, isn't
it?  "I want to ask you a question," she said at last.

He stared at her blankly.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, trying and keep her stomach from twisting right up into her 
throat, she said,  "Are you in love with Bernadette Conley?"

"Bernadette Conley?" he seemed genuinely confused. "Of course not, why...?"
Then he remembered something and frowned.  "Oh, I guess I kind of mislead
you about that."

Susan felt her heart beat faster.  "Really?  You mean you lied to me?"

He stared at her, defiance in his eyes.  "Yes, I lied.  So what?"  Then he
sighed wearily, and his anger lost some of its edge.  "It just made things
easier.  I'm sorry."

HE'D LIED!  She didn't care.  HE DIDN'T LOVE BERNADETTE!  Her heart pounded
in her chest, and she felt herself begin to tremble.

"Susan, why are you here?" he asked suddenly, pain evident in his voice.

"I wanted to see you," she told him.  Not quite the truth, but close
enough.  "You've been avoiding me."

He didn't reply at first, but looked down at the crumpled letter he still
held in his hand.  "Well, now you know why," he said in a quiet, reserved
tone.  "I'm sorry that I ruined our friendship, but I can't help the way I
feel."

Susan's heart raced, and blood rushed to her face.  TELL HIM, she told
herself.  TELL HIM NOW!  But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Mark misunderstood her silence.  "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice
cracking slightly.  "It's late, shall I call you a cab?"

She knew how he was feeling.  She had felt it herself, only minutes earlier.  It was that, more
than anything else, that forced her to speak.

"No," she said.  Her voice came out in little more than a whisper.  

He looked at her, his face serious, and his eyes as gentle as she remembered.  

"Mark," she began, "I realised something this evening."  Her lips were dry,and she licked them
nervously.  "When I saw you with Bernadette, I realised that I was wrong.  That I thought our
relationship was one thing, when it was actually something else.  Or at least, it should have
been. Am I making myself clear?"

"Not exactly," Mark said cautiously, but a barely believed, barely concealed, hope shone in his
eyes.  He took a couple of hesitant steps closer.  "Carry on."

"I thought we were best friends.  Well, we are, but I thought that's all we were.  When I left I
thought...I thought that...." she shook her head, and looked down.  "I don't know what I thought,
Mark.  I was an idiot."

He stared at her in astonished silence for a long moment,  and then walked slowly towards her.  
She looked up.  He was standing very near her, and she could feel his breath brushing her cheek.
He was breathing fast, and his eyes met hers with a look of such intensity that she very nearly
couldn't speak. 

"What I mean is, that I feel more than I thought I did."

"Feel more what?" He was leaning into her, almost touching her.

"You know," she breathed.

"No," he whispered. "Tell me." 

"You were right," she said softly, "we can't be friends any more."  He flinched, and impulsively
she reached out and touched his arm.  "We have  to be more than friends, Mark.  That is," she 
looked up, smiling at the delight she saw shine in his eyes, "if you still want me." 

He didn't answer, but closed the gap between them with a kiss. Susan relaxed into his embrace 
with a heady relief that quite took her breath away.

Eventually, he pushed her gently back, so that he could look into her face.  "I can hardly 
believe this," he said in a voice full of emotion.    She smiled at him, grinned at him.  
"Neither can I," she admitted, almost giggling with excitement.  "But it's great isn't it?"

"That doesn't even begin to describe it!"  He shook his head, still gazing into her eyes.  "I 
thought I'd lost you Susan.  When you got on that train, and left I just...."

"Don't!" she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands.  "Don't even think about it. 
I can't believe what an idiot  I was."

He grunted.  "You must have thought I was an idiot, the way I acted."

She looked up at him sharply.  "No!"  sliding her arms around his waist she smiled up at him.
"I never thought that, Mark.  I don't know what I was thinking, I can't explain it.  I 
guess I just couldn't take it in right then, or I didn't want to.  But I was the idiot, not you."

He closed his eyes for a moment.  "But nothing's changed," he said in a suddenly serious voice.
"You're still living in Phoenix.  How can we...."

She stopped his words with another kiss.  "Not now Mark," she whispered close to his ear. 
"We'll work it all out later.  Don't worry, everything will work out fine.  I know it."

"Who's worrying?" he breathed, and their lips met in a kiss that brought the whole conversation
to a close for quite some time.  


                                  ***

Mark was awake when the alarm buzzed.  He slapped it off quickly, but not soon enough.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Early.  Go back to sleep," he whispered gently, reaching out to stroke her face. 
He smiled in the darkness.  It was still too wonderful to believe; she was really there!

"Where are you going?" she asked rolling onto her back.  Her voice was heavy with sleep.

"Where do you think?" he said, slipping out of bed.

"You have to work today?"

"I'm sorry," he sat down next to her, reached over and stroked the hair out of her face.  
It was hard to leave.  His heart melted at the very site of her.

"You shouldn't have been out so late last night," she murmured, "you hardly got any sleep."

He smiled again.  "I'll be fine."

"What time do you get off?" she asked.

"Eight."

"I'll meet you then, shall I?"

He leaned down and kissed her tenderly.  "I can't wait.  Now go back to sleep."

"Ok."  She sighed and rolled over.  "Mark," she called as he was leaving the room. 
"I love you."

His heart jumped, and he turned to look at her.  She smiled sleepily at him, and he thought
he would burst with the love that welled-up from deep inside. "I love you too," he said softly.
"Go back to sleep."



                               THE END!



                       APOLOGIES AND DISCLAIMERS

Well, if you reached the end, thank you - I hope you liked it! I just have a couple of things to 
say. First, I hope it wasn't blindingly obvious from reading this that I'm English.  
For the sake of authenticity, I tried to keep it as American sounding as possible, but a 
few English expressions or the occasional piece of English phraseology may have crept in.  
Not to mention English spellings.  
So, if any of the characters sounded like they were talking a bit strangely, that might be why!

Secondly, a couple of technical issues.  I think that the hospital canteen is in the basement, 
and that the ER is on the ground floor, and that's how I wrote this.  My husband, however,
insists that the canteen is upstairs.
So, I apologise if I was wrong!  

Similarly, I don't know if Carol Hathaway's house has a porch.  It seems like most American
houses do, so I gave her one.  Again, if I'm wrong, sorry!

Well, this is my first attempt at fan fiction, and it's really rather fun!

I'd appreciate any comments, as long as they're polite, so if you have any please send 
them to me at  106625.3210@compuserve.com 


Thanks for your time!