Your Mother Should Know


AUTHOR: Maluccieca
EMAIL: maluccieca@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: All ER femmes, Season 7.
RATING: G
SPOILERS: nada
ARCHIVE: Shibbity shitz! Just ask.
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me. I just borrowed 'em for the chick fic.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: May 13, 2001 - I never anticipated that my first "Chick Fic" was going to be serious . .

Dedication: to my mom, who, by the way, is never going to read this (and if that happened would consider this a waste of time) but who also introduced me to Hooked on Phonics and my love for words, reading, and writing; who picks me up from school or practice when I'm "sick," buys me stuff whether I've asked ages ago or on a whim; gives me moolah whether I need it or not; doesn't complain about me watching "ER" every week; pays for the cable and phone bills; gave birth to and is legally responsible for me for three more years; but who, most importantly, supports me when I need it and always has my back no matter what the heck happens. In spite of everything, I think I really *do* love you, Mom. :-)Too bad I can only tell you like this.
Happy Mother's Day.
And now, for the main attraction (wasn't that touching?).

SUMMARY: A fic I wrote for Mother's Day starring the ER chicks. Kinda cheesy, but if you like that kind of thing, this could be your piece of cake.



Jing-Mei warily eyed the big envelope on the counter. "What's this, Dave?" she asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice.
        "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Randi told me to give it to you."
        "Correction: you took it and gave it to me a second ago."
        "I'm not joking, Jing-Mei, I swear. Look at me."
        She looked him squarely in the face. There was not a trace of laughter on it; he really was serious. She looked back at the envelope. There wasn't a postmark or any sign of postal delivery on it either, so it must have been hand-delivered. "Do you know who it's from?"
        Dave didn't look at her as he said, "Some couple came in here a few hours ago and wanted to give this to you."
        "'Some couple,' Dave?" she prodded. "Did you see them?"
        "Actually, yeah. There was this black guy and this Asian lady and they were holding this baby and they were asking for you and so she said you were in Trauma Two with Chief - "
        "Why didn't you get me?" she interrupted angrily.
        " - so they told Randi to give this to you, but she left, and she asked me to give this to you since I just happened to be there. End of story," he said.
        "Wait, wait, wait. They had a baby?" she pressed.
        "Yeah, sure. Why?" he asked indifferently. "I think it was a boy."
        Jing-Mei's heart skipped a beat and blood rushed to her head. Calm down, she told herself.
        "Jing-Mei?" Dave looked down worriedly at her.
        She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then shook her head. "Thanks, Dave. You can go now."
        "Are you going to open it? It's not a bomb, Jing-Mei."
        It's not? she thought. Ha. Wouldn't you like to know.

"I need the phone," Abby said frantically. "Luka, where's the phone?"
        "I don't know," he said.
        "Well, neither do I," she replied.
        He looked at her curiously. "Why do you need it?"
        "I'm going to try to beat my mother at her own game. That is, I'm going to wish her a happy Mother's Day before she can remind me herself," Abby told him.
        "I'll leave you alone, then," Luka conceded.
        "Good idea." She continued searching for the phone. "Um, Luka?"
        "Yes?"
        "Can I use your cell phone?"
        "If you can find it," he answered.
        "God, why can't I find a phone?" she asked nervously, moving from place to place. She could only imagine the predictable chain of events coming: her mom would call and carry on about it being her holiday and not have heard from her. Abby knew she had to find that darn phone but she was tired, so she took a nap. What she thought had been a quickie turned out to be at least three hours. Right on cue, the sound of a phone ringing somewhere startled her as she was blinking her eyes. Where the hell is it? she wondered groggily. It was still ringing when she pried it out from under a pile of laundry. Abby sighed and reluctantly picked it up.
        "Hi, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."

Cleo sat dejectedly in the lounge, completing a diagnosis and munching stick after stick of celery. She had the urge to go out and run a couple of blocks to clear her mind. Maybe they were a part of her depressive, intense thought-provoking self, the running and compulsive celery digestion. Or maybe not. She didn't know.
        What she did know, however, was that today was not her day. She reached under the chart and pulled out a small piece of paper. Slowly, she turned it over.
        "What's this?" she had asked Peter when he handed it to her earlier that morning.
        "Reese drew it for you," he had told her, hurrying up to the OR. "See you later."
        Cleo looked at the drawing, trying her best to decipher it. In the center, a little boy was markered in. Fair enough, she thought, that's Reese. To his left was a man in what appeared to be blue scrubs: Peter, Cleo decided. On the right side of Reese's self-representation was a woman.
        She had scrutinized the drawing several times already, but she couldn't rest until she heart it from either Peter or Reese that she was the woman in the picture. But really, it was all common sense. Reese had made the picture for her, not Carla, so it was safe to assume that it was indeed she. It was a pretty logical conclusion, yet she didn't want to jump straight to it. However, she had to admit that he was a sweet boy. She was almost certain that she was the woman in the drawing. She had to be.

"Time of death: 15:32."
        Kerry hobbled out of Trauma Two. Sure, she knew that calling time was part of the job, but there were some times when it was particularly tragic.
        The woman lying dead in there had been a frequent visitor in the ER, coming at least once every two weeks. To be exact, she was frequently accompanying her children to the ER. Mrs. Katherin Klein was a busy mother of three adopted children, and was en route to the airport to pick up her fourth when she had suffered a fatal heart attack, her first and her last. Being a regular face in the ER, she had been on a first-name basis with several staff members. The last time she had been there was the previous Tuesday due to Rick's broken leg. She had spoken with Kerry briefly, excited at the prospect of meeting and taking home her fourth adopted child that weekend. Only that wasn't going to happen for Mrs. Klein - Katherin. Kerry could hardly bring herself to call time.
        How awful, she reflected with a shudder. To die on Mother's Day on your way to meet your new child.
        Which reminded her of her own personal experience as an adopted child. Kerry had never met her biological parents. Even though she had gotten their names, she couldn't bring herself to place contact with them. She only knew that she had to do it before it was too late. She had had the same recurring dream of calling time on her mother at work without even knowing it the previous night.
        Another Mother's Day had come and was nearly over.

That's odd, Elizabeth thought as she opened the door. The house was silent, like it had been before Ella's birth, when the only voices heard were usually hers and Mark's. But that was before.
        She felt as though she just wasn't quite used to having a baby in the house. Mark was, no doubt about it, there had been Rachel, a long time ago, of course; but she wasn't. She was a doctor, she saw babies every day, she should have at least some inkling. All right, maybe not as much as the people in pedes or in the OB, but still, more or less, she should. She should, and yet she was not entirely accustomed to it.
        Her mother stepped out of the nursery.
        "Mother, what happened?" Worry began to fill her voice. "Where's Ella?"
        "Shhh." Isabelle put a finger to her lips. "I just put her to sleep. She's been sleeping for about fifteen minutes. No, don't go in there," she admonished as Elizabeth started for the nursery in spite of herself.
        "Why not?"
        "She won't disappear," Isabelle said with a grin. "I know it's instinct to go in there, but don't fret."
        "Coming from you, I wouldn't know how to take that advice," Elizabeth wanted to say. Instead, she went back to unpacking the groceries she had just brought in.
        "Welcome to motherhood," her mother said gently. "Sit down, and I'll make you a snack."
        "What is that? My induction ceremony reception, I suppose?" she gladly sat down, watching her mother chuckle as she made her a sandwich and some tea.
        "If you want to look at it that way, yes. Being a mom isn't so bad. Now you even have a holiday," Isabelle pointed out.
        "Joy," Elizabeth said sarcastically. "Happy Mother's Day."
        "Same to you, dear."
        No sooner had they sipped their tea when they heard Ella crying. Elizabeth dropped her sandwich on the saucer. "That's it, I'm going."
        "She'll only be a baby once," her mother said.
        "Good, then I only have to put up with this while she is." She ran into the nursery.
        Isabelle sat back in her chair, stirring her tea. "Welcome to the club, Elizabeth."


The End.


Shouts out to moms everywhere: Happy Mother's Day! We (your kids) really do love you, even if we might come across as, well, the opposite end of the spectrum sometimes.

Um, I kinda had to start with Jing-Mei; she's my (sort-of) favorite ER chick, after all.

My e-mail is maluccieca@yahoo.com, so please send comments. Thanks!




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