Your Mother Should Know
CATEGORY: All ER femmes, Season 7.
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
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
" - 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?"
"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
It's not? she thought. Ha. Wouldn't you like to
"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
"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
"Good idea." She continued searching
for the phone. "Um, Luka?"
"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
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
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
"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
"She'll only be a baby once," her
"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."
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 firstname.lastname@example.org, so
please send comments. Thanks!