Title – Cold Outside
Rating – PG
Spoliers - Some for 'Freefall' but only slight ones in future chapters for UK viewers.
Summary - My version of 'Freefall', Cordano stylee!
Authors Note - After watching 'Freefall' again last night I was struck by an idea for Elizabeth's last goodbye to Romano and started writing it. Halfway through however, I changed my mind and began writing something slightly different. It's the same concept, I just added this chapter at the beginning of the story! Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elizabeth breathed out as the patient was wheeled away from her. She needed the short space of time to catch her breath before the next one. Thinking she'd try and sleep for a few minutes before she was inevitably paged for some minor incident the residents could sort out. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered going down there at all. She could just call and tell Pratt, or whomever else it was to give them some Ibuprofen and send them home. But she knew she never would. She wasn't Romano. As her thoughts turned towards him she pressed the elevator button, already looking forward to getting her head down. Romano hadn't been himself lately and she knew that his arm, or lack of it, was getting to him more than he'd admit. He was a strong man, he never let anything affect him in any way, but he wasn't made of stone. After their chat in the Surgical Lounge, and the direction it almost went in, she knew he was hurting. He wanted to save lives, help people. Not be stitching up cut fingers. The elevator doors opened up and Elizabeth strode purposefully towards the Lounge, ignoring anyone who shouted her name. As soon as she reached the couch she flipped off her shoes, already hurting her feet only four hours into what was turning into a double. As she wriggled her toes she felt her eyes flutter shut and the sleep take over.
It was only later that she remembered the man who sat there beside her. And only weeks later that logic told her who it was.
In the moment she only felt the warm presence of someone sitting beside her. The reassuring weight of a person, protecting her from anything. She only really felt the soft skin brushing against her cheek as a stray strand of hair was moved away in hindsight. In the moment she was never really there. She never really paid those feelings in the midst of her sleep, any attention. They were simply there, not to be analysed or picked at, but to be enjoyed. To be looked back upon whenever she felt the tears threatening her.
It was hours later when she awoke. She could see nothing around her. No noise or movement. Only smoke. Thick and black. Engulfing the small lounge she slept in. Suddenly realising that she should not be here, not right now. Not amongst all this smoke she stood up and tried to think straight. The black smoke slowly filling the room around her caused her to cough as she raced out, frantically groping for the door handle. Anything to get her out. As the door gave way and she stumbled out, no longer caring what was causing this but simply wanting to leave it, she almost fell over a figure lying on the floor. Looking down she saw his face and had to resist the urge to vomit. Dorset was staring up at her, his face a bloody mess or cuts and burns. Elizabeth frantically felt for a pulse around any spare skin she could find. Feeling a weak beat she tried frantically to move him, but despite her weekly visits to a gym he wouldn't budge. As desperation took over she cried out. To anyone who would hear her. If there was even anyone left anymore.
"Help!" the first word caused the acrid smoke to pour into her mouth and Elizabeth was taken over by the coughing. But she couldn't leave him here. She just couldn't. Despite their history she could not walk away and leave a man to die. She tried again, "Help me! Please!" And still no one came. The doors remained closed and the shallow and ragged breathing of the man beside her began to slow down. In the darkness of the corridor Elizabeth felt her eyes close again and the sleep she had so craved earlier try and take her again. She prayed for someone to run through the doors at that moment. Someone to take the situation out of her hands. She was a good surgeon. She could save lives, but not like this. She didn't want the responsibility anymore. Summoning up her last ounce of strength she cried out again,
"Help! Please, help me..." And still no one heard her.
Rating – PG
Spoliers - Some for 'Freefall' but only slight ones in future chapters for UK viewers.
Summary - My version of 'Freefall', Cordano stylee!
Authors Note - After watching 'Freefall' again last night I was struck by an idea for Elizabeth's last goodbye to Romano and started writing it. Halfway through however, I changed my mind and began writing something slightly different. It's the same concept, I just added this chapter at the beginning of the story! Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elizabeth breathed out as the patient was wheeled away from her. She needed the short space of time to catch her breath before the next one. Thinking she'd try and sleep for a few minutes before she was inevitably paged for some minor incident the residents could sort out. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered going down there at all. She could just call and tell Pratt, or whomever else it was to give them some Ibuprofen and send them home. But she knew she never would. She wasn't Romano. As her thoughts turned towards him she pressed the elevator button, already looking forward to getting her head down. Romano hadn't been himself lately and she knew that his arm, or lack of it, was getting to him more than he'd admit. He was a strong man, he never let anything affect him in any way, but he wasn't made of stone. After their chat in the Surgical Lounge, and the direction it almost went in, she knew he was hurting. He wanted to save lives, help people. Not be stitching up cut fingers. The elevator doors opened up and Elizabeth strode purposefully towards the Lounge, ignoring anyone who shouted her name. As soon as she reached the couch she flipped off her shoes, already hurting her feet only four hours into what was turning into a double. As she wriggled her toes she felt her eyes flutter shut and the sleep take over.
It was only later that she remembered the man who sat there beside her. And only weeks later that logic told her who it was.
In the moment she only felt the warm presence of someone sitting beside her. The reassuring weight of a person, protecting her from anything. She only really felt the soft skin brushing against her cheek as a stray strand of hair was moved away in hindsight. In the moment she was never really there. She never really paid those feelings in the midst of her sleep, any attention. They were simply there, not to be analysed or picked at, but to be enjoyed. To be looked back upon whenever she felt the tears threatening her.
It was hours later when she awoke. She could see nothing around her. No noise or movement. Only smoke. Thick and black. Engulfing the small lounge she slept in. Suddenly realising that she should not be here, not right now. Not amongst all this smoke she stood up and tried to think straight. The black smoke slowly filling the room around her caused her to cough as she raced out, frantically groping for the door handle. Anything to get her out. As the door gave way and she stumbled out, no longer caring what was causing this but simply wanting to leave it, she almost fell over a figure lying on the floor. Looking down she saw his face and had to resist the urge to vomit. Dorset was staring up at her, his face a bloody mess or cuts and burns. Elizabeth frantically felt for a pulse around any spare skin she could find. Feeling a weak beat she tried frantically to move him, but despite her weekly visits to a gym he wouldn't budge. As desperation took over she cried out. To anyone who would hear her. If there was even anyone left anymore.
"Help!" the first word caused the acrid smoke to pour into her mouth and Elizabeth was taken over by the coughing. But she couldn't leave him here. She just couldn't. Despite their history she could not walk away and leave a man to die. She tried again, "Help me! Please!" And still no one came. The doors remained closed and the shallow and ragged breathing of the man beside her began to slow down. In the darkness of the corridor Elizabeth felt her eyes close again and the sleep she had so craved earlier try and take her again. She prayed for someone to run through the doors at that moment. Someone to take the situation out of her hands. She was a good surgeon. She could save lives, but not like this. She didn't want the responsibility anymore. Summoning up her last ounce of strength she cried out again,
"Help! Please, help me..." And still no one heard her.