Author's Note: This is a third story in an ongoing series, Back in the Game and Curveball should be read before this one to give you a fuller understanding of the over-all plot, however I think there is enough back story explained here that readers can enjoy this one by itself. I'm not usually one for long notes as a preface, however, this time I feel it's justified. My beta, Allison deserves a great deal of credit for this story. Not only has she weeded through my seemingly never-ending story to fix typos and grammatical errors, but she has contributed to plot points and character development as well. If would allow it, she'd be listed as a co-author this go round because I feel that she's contributed as much to this story as I have. An honorable mention also goes to her husband (who is NOT getting a pie, thank you very much) for contributing one of my favorite lines in this story. Also, I need to mention Lisa A. for her input on what constitutes a perfect date.

Disclaimer: I do not own the ER universe; that belongs to the folks at NBC, WB studios, John Wells, Amblin Entertainment and a whole slew of other people. Andrew Hollinsworth is also not mine, I'm borrowing him from the film Resurrection and will put him back when I'm finished playing with him. Once again, Sophia and Marti Dubenko are solely my creations. Allison Chapman, well she's mine too. Mostly. About 1/3 of her belongs to my beta.

Bases Loaded by Dubenko Junkie and Allison E. L. Cleckler

Yet again there was a problem with the building's plumbing systems and the surgical floor was left with only one available operating room. Dr. Lee Dubenko was beginning to wonder when the rest of County General was going to crumble. The ongoing problems with the sanitation had lead to constant scheduling conflicts between the surgeons and just the day before he had opted to perform a minor invasive procedure right in one of the ER's trauma rooms.

A further result of the reduced OR time for the trauma surgeon was an increase in time he allocated for research. Some of the staff had opted to increase their time on the green to practice golf swings; others simply spent a little more time at home. Lee spent more time in his office. The stacks of papers, charts and case files were starting to overwhelm even that spacious area. The seemingly chaotic décor was what he referred to as "an organized mess." So long as no one else touched anything, he knew precisely where every last piece of data was located.

The same could not be said for Dubenko's telephone. Once more it was hopelessly adrift in a sea of journals, hastily scribbled notes and discarded studies. He could hear the trilling ring of the phone and could guess the general location, but he was unable to uncover the receiver before losing yet another call to his voicemail. He patiently waited for the flashing red light to indicate that he had a message and then dialed his access code.

"Hello, Dr. Dubenko? This is Allison Chapman from the Oncology lab. I hate to bother you again but I really need you to return that stereoscope as soon as possible. Thanks."

I knew I forgot to do something last night, he thought to himself as he listened to the pleasant sounding voice of the lab technologist. That's what? The fourth message she's left me now. I wonder what she'll say when I drop off a bunch of slides along with the scope?

His current research had left him cross-referencing the instances of recurring fibroid cysts and various malignant tumors. He had collected a large a large amount of data in a very brief time period; however, Dubenko had yet to actually look at the biopsy slides that correlated to the research. He didn't think Miss Chapman would care too much about that fact considering he had kept her stereoscope much longer than he had originally promised. He doubted she'd be willing to lend it to him again any time soon.

Sighing, he gathered up the microscope and the handful of slides. He dropped the slides into the empty pocket of his long white coat before cradling the lab equipment in the crook of his left arm. He raked his free hand through his long curly tangle of hair and headed for the third floor and the Oncology lab.

Through the large glass windows Dubenko could see several lab technicians busily going about their work. At the far counter, standing over a rack of test tubes, was a slender redhead. She had the sleeves of her lab coat rolled up and her hair pulled back in a French braid. It looked to him as though she was trying through sheer force of will, to divine the contents of the little glass vials.

"Excuse me?" he inquired softly as he opened the door to the lab, "I'm looking for Allison Chapman." He addressed his query to the redheaded young woman, whom he had often seen on his numerous trips to the third floor. This was the most he had ever said to her in one breath; usually it was no more than "hello."

"You've found her." She smiled warmly and then looked rather pointedly at the object in his arms. "Dr. Dubenko. My purloiner of property, you are a hard man to get a hold of, you know that?"

She reached for the stereoscope as he laughed genially. "Nice alliteration, Allison." Idiot, Lee, you are an idiot. He relinquished the stereoscope as he once again berated himself.

"Not bad yourself, doctor."

"It's ah, just nice to have a name to go with the face. Allison is of German origin, right? It means 'of noble birth.'" He shared the random bit of knowledge with her and was rewarded with a look that belied her amusement.

"I know. It's my name after all. Thanks for bringing this back, we've been swamped in here and short of equipment."

He steadied his gaze on her before responding. "I stand suitably rebuked for my transgression. Well, seeing as I've returned your property--which was borrowed, not stolen, I might add--I'll bid you farewell, your highness." He gave Allison a brief smile before turning to leave.

He caught her puzzled look and merely tossed his head to flip his hair back off his forehead as walked out of the lab. And you wonder why you spend all of your time in your office or home alone? Flirting is not your forte. What were you thinking anyway? She's at best in her late twenties, though she looks even younger than that. Once again you've managed to convince someone that you are just plain weird, though this is a record, even for you. What was it? Under five minutes?

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and realized that the biopsy slides were still resting in the bottom of his left-hand pocket. Later, he thought, I'll come back up here and ask her to take a look at them.


When Dubenko walked back into his office he heard the tell-tale signs of his phone ringing again. This time he managed to catch the call. "Dr. Dubenko."

"Would it kill you to say 'Hello,' Papa?" Sophie Dubenko chided playfully.

"Hi, baby. How are you?" Dubenko relaxed, realizing that the phone call had nothing to do with operating room conflicts or administrative headaches.

"I'm fine. Thinking about making the dog into a pair of slippers and, um, I really hope you weren't too partial to that overstuffed chair in the guestroom because he pretty much ate it." She sighed loudly. "Stupid dog."

"Euthanasia is painless, Soph. And less messy than slipper making." Dubenko laughed. His daughter's dog, aptly named Munch, had the habit of ingesting things not meant to be consumed.

"Papa! You are horrible. I'd never do that. I love my puppy." She always defended the animal when her father suggested a means of its demise.

"Of course you do. And that chair was uncomfortable and your mother hated it, why do you think she put it in the guestroom to begin with?"

"So the interior design police wouldn't lock her up and throw away the key? Anyway, I wasn't really calling about the dog's latest snack. I wanted to let you know that I'd made my flight reservations for winter break. Are you sure you want me around for two whole weeks?"

"Sophie, what kind of question is that? Of course I want you here and for as long as you want to stay. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy your company." If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that he missed her a great deal and hated that she'd opted to stay in Virginia when he relocated to Illinois.

"Just making sure you still love me. So, can I bring Munch with me?" He could almost here her smirking over the phone.

"No. That canine garbage disposal can stay right where he is. Listen, Soph, I have to go. I'm being paged." He didn't wait for her to respond and just hung up the phone as he looked at the display on his pager. She was used to him ending conversations abruptly.


"Got the page. Hi, I'm Dr. Dubenko, trauma surgeon." He addressed the ER attending and the patient at the same time. He looked up at Dr. Kovac in surprise when he noted the patient was a child. "Do you need to get someone from pediatrics down here?"

"They're swamped," the thick-accented voice of the Croatian born doctor replied.

"You talk funny." The young boy was maybe seven or eight, wide eyed and staring at Kovac. "And you're really, really big."

Dubenko had to resist laughing as he pressed his stethoscope to the child's bare chest. A nurse had already started an IV and hooked up the heart monitor.

"That's cold! Why is that other doctor so much taller than you? Why do you have hair like a girl? Hey, what's that do?" The boy rambled on as Dubenko picked up an oxygen mask and slipped it over the child's head.

"Keeps little boys from talking to much," he responded with a smile. Was Sophie ever this talkative? No, she was ten times more verbose and you know it. She still is. "What's the injury, doctors? Chest sounds clear."

"Abdominal bruising, car accident, not wearing a seatbelt properly," Kovac answered. "Sam went to get the portable ultrasound."

Dubenko began to gently palpitate the boy's abdomen, feeling for signs of internal injury.

"Ow! That hurts! Why'd you do that?" The child had pulled the oxygen mask off.

"Sorry." Dubenko stopped and looked at Kovac, he mouthed the word "Parents?" silently and frowned when the other doctor shook his head. They must not have survived the crash. Dubenko felt a surge of sympathy for the young boy.

Sam, the petite blonde nurse, brought in the ultrasound before the child could fire off any more questions. She pulled the mask back on to his face with a smile. "You need to leave that on, sweetheart."

The boy made a face at her.

Luka smiled at the boy and addressed Sam. "Why don't we just get him an oxygen tube so that he doesn't have to wear that?"

As she approached with the thin clear tubing the boy again began talking. "Hey, where's that go? Ew, in my nose? Mom always says not to stick things up my nose. I once got a pea stuck in there. It felt funny."

"I have to agree with your mom there." Dubenko looked at the chart Kovac had started, scanning it for the boy's name. "Jackson, this is going to feel funny too. I'm going to put some gel on your belly so that we can see what's going on in there, okay?" he explained as he prepared to do the ultrasound.

A short while later Dubenko was taking the boy up to the OR to repair the damage to his abdominal wall. A tear in the muscles had resulted in a small hernia. The child studied him with wide eyes and a look of trepidation. "Is it gonna hurt?"

"No. You'll be asleep."

"But I'm not tired."

Once inside the elevator, Dubenko leaned against the rail of the gurney. "You will be, Jackson." He smiled at the child.

"How do you know that?"

"I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to know these things." It was an answer he used to give his daughter when she'd endlessly question him at that age. Just as it seemed to satisfy a young Sophia Dubenko, Jackson settled down and remained quiet for the rest of the elevator ride.


It was several days later before Dr. Dubenko was able to make his way back down to the Oncology Lab with his biopsy slides. When he arrived the same technologist, Allison Chapman, greeted him only this time she wasn't smiling.

"No." She didn't even look up from the microscope she was looking through.

"Pardon?" Dubenko was slightly taken aback by her manner and steeled himself to go into what his late wife always called "Dr. Dickhead mode", when he simply pulled the status card to get what he wanted.

"You can't have my microscope." She changed slides and scribbled some notes on a pad of paper. "I got my ass chewed by my supervisor for letting you walk off with our equipment the last time. Might not mean a lot to you, but I'd like to keep my job, mundane as it is."

"Um, I don't want your microscope. I just wanted to drop off some biopsies that need to be read. You do still handle that, correct?" His tone was a bit more condescending than he intended and Dubenko immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with your superior. I'll go through the proper channels next time and requisition any equipment I require."

"It's okay, it was my fault for letting you. I'm too much of a pushover, I guess. And yes, I or someone else will take care of your slides. When do you need them?" She finally looked up at him; her red hair was falling out of the loose ponytail she wore.

Dubenko's fingers itched to reach out and tuck the flyaway strands behind her ear. The urge surprised him and he instead fumbled with the handful of slides, nearly dropping them on the floor. "Today if possible."

"I'll leave a note for the guys on the swing shift then, I'm out of here in about twenty." She looked at her watch. "Make that fifteen."

He gave her a lopsided smile and ran his fingers through his hair. What are you waiting for, Lee? Say something. Ask her out. Stop staring at her like some sort of idiot savant. "Al…Allison? Um, would…would you like to grab a cup of coffee after your shift?" Niiiiiiiiice. What are we? Twelve and afraid of icky girl germs?

She looked at him for a long moment before answering, a soft smile on her face. "I'd love to but I can't. I'm meeting my roommate and her fiancé for dinner. Wedding-planning stuff. I think she wants me to wear something pink with a bow the size of Texas on my behind. To the wedding, I mean. Not to dinner."

Dubenko ran his hand through his hair again and looked at the floor as if his white sneakers held some sort of solution. "Maybe some other time then." His voice was soft and he tried to hide his disappointment at being turned down and his embarrassment for asking in the first place. There isn't going to be another time, she's trying to let you down gently. Say goodbye and go back to hiding in your office. It's what you excel at.


"Dr. Dubenko?" Chapman was standing in front of him now, looking at him with concern on her face, questioning in her eyes.

"Thank you for, ah, looking at the slides. I'll come back to get the results later. Have a nice evening, Miss Chapman." He walked out of the lab as quickly as his feet could take him.

He didn't notice the young redhead watching after him as he moved swiftly down the hall towards the elevators.

The following evening, Dr. Dubenko was intently working in his office when a knock on his open door caused him to glance upwards. Standing in the doorway was a thoughtful looking Allison Chapman. She grinned at him and stepped into his office proper before he could utter a greeting.

"Hi, I was going to grab a cup of coffee across the street and wondered if you'd like to join me?"

Dubenko fumbled with the three-ring binder he had been holding and inadvertently knocked over a stack of case files, sending paper cascading across the floor. You are pathetic. You give the other Yale graduates a bad name. For someone so brilliant you sure act like such a fool at times. Say something to the woman. Dubenko resisted the urge to bang his head on his desktop and instead gave the lab tech a wan smile.

"Coffee…sounds really good right about now."

She laughed. "Yeah, you look like you could use a break."

He sheepishly looked at the mess on his office floor, then back up at the ginger-haired woman. "I'm obviously not going to get the Morbidity and Mortality findings to Dr. Weaver any time soon."

Standing up and stepping over the sea of paper, Dubenko exchanged his lab coat for his jacket. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Allison smiled as he gestured for her to proceed through the door before him.

They walked to the convenience store across from the hospital in relative silence. Dubenko was desperately trying to think of something to say that was neither too banal nor too cerebral for casual conversation. He was drawing a complete blank. Instead, he settled on stuffing his hands in his pockets and jangling the loose coins within.

As they waited for the light to turn, Allison put her hand on his forearm. "That's kind of grating on the nerves. Do you mind?"

Dubenko blushed and muttered, "Sorry. Bad habit."

She looked at him kindly and then winked. "You're kind of cute when you blush. Did you know that?"

This only caused the doctor to redden deeper and duck his head. When the light changed, Dubenko bolted across the street causing Allison to break into a near-jog to keep up. He held the door open for her, mentally chiding himself for his less than graceful reaction.

After the pair had their cups of coffee in hand, they made their way back towards the ambulance bay. They sat watching passersby and sipping the hot drinks, Dubenko occasionally glancing at his companion and smiling softly, though he failed to say anything to her.

"You know, I didn't mean to embarrass you earlier," Allison remarked while looking into her cup.

"Oh, no…it's all right. I have a tendency to fiddle with things without really noticing. Nervous energy, I suppose."

"I wasn't talking about the loose change." She looked up at him as she said this.

"Oh." Dubenko could feel the flush creeping up his neck again.

"Dr. Dubenko—"

"Lee. Please."

"Lee, maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here, so feel free to tell me if I am, but the other day when you asked me if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee after work I assumed that meant you were, at least marginally, interested in me."

Dubenko was having a hard time maintaining eye contact as she spoke. He kept looking over Allison's shoulder and down at his own, now empty, cup. "I…I, um, I was. I am. I mean…I'd like to get to know you better."

"Great. Then you'll have dinner with me tomorrow night? Please say yes. I can't face another night of roommate torture."

He couldn't resist smiling at her as he replied. "Still being forced to wear a hideous bow on your posterior?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me or not?"

"I would."

They made arrangements for the following evening before heading back inside. Dubenko felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement at the prospect of spending the evening with the lovely technologist. His last attempt at dating hadn't gone so well and he didn't relish the thought of another awkward evening making a fool of himself. Then again, he thought, Allison's the one who asked me out. And she thinks I'm cute. I'm already ahead of the curve this go-round. He quirked his eyebrows and smirked to himself as he walked back to his office.