[Side note: And end to this story, but not the pair, I hope! I'd love to bring them back again someday, if you'll have them. Thank you all for the reviews and feedback – if there was no audience, this would be a rather sad and lonely practice. And a HUGE thank you to Rocketlover for the inspiration, feedback, and lovely chats, which I plan on continuing!]

Separate: Chapter 10

Melora ushered Robert upstairs and into the living room, where they sat together on the sofa. "What happened?" she asked, adding, "I mean, unless you don't want to talk." She knew that for her sometimes, it was too hard to talk about things.

But Robert seemed to want to try and piece it all together. "Dr. Corday and I thought that we had Lucy stabilized. She wasn't out of the woods entirely. I mean, the guy really did a number on her. Cut her throat – we put in a trache to at least give her an airway while we repaired the damage to her lung. Her spleen was destroyed – we removed it. And the bastard got her in the liver as well, but again, we repaired it."

Melora winced; that didn't sound good but she remembered that it was something people could live without, albeit carefully. "Oh God – knife wounds?" How terrifying, she thought to herself.

"Knife wounds," he nodded, briefly making eye contact with her as he slipped out of surgery report mode. "It didn't help that they were lying around bleeding for some time before they were discovered because apparently, there was a party being thrown in the goddamn ER. So there had already been a lot of blood loss. They had to crack her chest open in the ER to deal with tamponade from yet another knife wound. How this guy managed to do so much critical damage …." He didn't want to let himself think too hard about how a maniac was left alone with a knife while the ER threw a party; it infuriated him too much to consider. At least he and Kerry were in agreement on that point. He also didn't want to explain a bunch of technical details, so he just plowed on with the facts. It was a relief to spew it all out to someone who hadn't been there, and even more so to someone who wasn't a doctor who might second-guess every decision they made…as if he wasn't already doing that.

"All surgical patients get a blood thinner to keep the risk down of throwing blood clots, which can cause a stroke or embolism and are just bad news all around. I mean, blood vessels naturally coagulate when injury occurs – it's an automatic response to aid in healing. So before she even got to us, they'd administered heparin, an anticoagulant. She'd already lost a lot of blood, but I'll take that over throwing a clot. So she was stable…sort of. That was when I called you. But then she developed a pulmonary embolism, which meant a clot was thrown anyway and could result in shutting down the flow of blood to the heart. Lizzie and I both agreed that giving Lucy more heparin at this point was far too risky, because if she did bleed out anymore and her blood wasn't able to coagulate, she could easily die. So what we needed to do was put in a filter we use to reverse the heparin and prevent further clotting. But…" He paused then. "We were so close to getting that filter in, but she threw a second clot, and then a third, and before we knew it we were up to our wrists trying to suction them all out… and we couldn't…"

He just shook his head, remembering each second from when she went into asystole. "We couldn't get them in time and we couldn't get the heart pumping again. We tried internal compressions, shocking…nothing, none of it worked. And I couldn't separate from it this time. This was a student, Mel. And she was bright as hell, too. I, uh, stayed to close up her wounds before the morgue came for her. I waited around. I didn't want to just leave her there alone." How many times had he said that once a person was dead, their body became an empty vessel? And why was it so hard to see it that way now? Just because he knew her? "I didn't want to just leave her there."

Melora took his hand, her own tears forming again. "Of course you didn't," she told him, wiping at her eyes. "You knew her and cared about her. The other surgeon – Dr. Corday? I'm sure she felt it, too."

Robert nodded, remembering how Lizzie's shoulders slumped at the sound of the flatline, how she'd started sobbing behind her mask. "She did. Her mother was in town visiting and I can't even imagine what that visit must be like for her this morning." Lizzie was the only surgeon he'd admired, respected, and loved. He just hoped Greene would be there for her. Robert didn't know what he'd do without Melora here now. Probably put himself to sleep with booze. Thinking of that now, he asked, "Got any whiskey?"

Melora, immediately latching onto the idea of being able to do something helpful, nodded. "Maker's Mark left over from a Halloween party we threw. Good enough?"

He nodded; at least it wasn't Jack Daniels – that stuff was the worst. "Perfect, thanks."

"Ice?"

"Just the glass and the bottle."

She scampered off to the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass and a half-empty bottle of Maker's Mark whiskey. As he helped himself, he asked, "You get any sleep tonight?"

"I dozed off and on. The wine from dinner made me zonk out early, but then I was awake had trouble getting back to sleep. Umm, thanks for dinner, by the way. It was lovely."

"Happy Valentines," he said dourly, downing the whiskey he'd poured before pouring a second, more generous glass. "Thanks for understanding. I'm sorry – well, I'm sorry it happened at all."

"I know," she assured him. "Has anyone spoken to her family?"

"The police are handling all of that, since it's a homicide and they usually need to do that in person."

"Is Carter okay?" In all of this, Melora had almost forgotten there was another victim.

"Yeah," Robert replied. "He's in ICU still, but he regained consciousness. Things were dicey for him as well, but aside from a spinal injury, he's going to be okay." Robert had some mixed emotions about Carter; obviously, he was relieved that Carter would live but he also wondered how Carter hadn't caught that Lucy's patient was so unstable. He stopped himself from judging yet, since he didn't know much about how any of this happened.

"Are you able to take tomorrow off?"

He nodded. "I'm off for the rest of the week. Anspaugh offered to cover. And then the week after that, they're sending me to a conference in New York. You're welcome to come along if you can get the time off."

Melora nodded. "I'll see what I can arrange." She sensed that he didn't want to think about being alone right now.

He was quiet then, and gave one more look around the room. He really didn't want to stay here tonight. He didn't want to face roommates in the morning, and Mel tended to sleep hours later than he did. "Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Pack a bag, grab your cello, and come back to my house for a few days? Maybe the rest of the week?" He saw her eyeing his whiskey and added, "You can drive the Jag."

"Wow." She raised her eyebrows at this; when she asked if she could drive it once before, he'd told her, Are you kidding? I barely let myself drive it! "How can I say no? I mean, I'll have to come into the city a couple of times for work and rehearsal, and one show on Saturday night, but yeah. Give me a few minutes to get my stuff together." She paused, asking, "You really want me to bring the sarcophagus?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah. I have some work to do, and I don't want you to get bored. Plus, don't tell anyone, but I do like hearing you play."

"I won't tell a soul," she grinned, embracing him and giving him a quick kiss before packing a bag, giving him leave to have one more glass of whiskey while she did.

As she drove them, Robert felt strange in the passenger seat. It was a perspective he was unused to. So far, Melora was doing a decent job driving; she only ground the gears a bit once so far. Then again, she was used to the forgiving nature of her old VW.

He was beginning to feel the effects of the whiskey, and a grateful sort of exhaustion settled over him. "Did I tell you that last Christmas, Lucy came pounding on my door at like, midnight?"

"What? No!" Melora was having trouble picturing anyone doing that, especially to Robert. "Why?"

"She had a patient who needed a surgery that I was the only one certified to perform. I'd hung up on her when she called me, so she took the next not-very-logical step."

"Did you sic Gretel on her?" Melora knew the most Gretel would do would be to lick the girl within an inch of her life, and smiled a bit wider at the idea.

"No, but I did tell her I called the police on her," he said, gazing out the window as he recalled the story, eyes feeling heavy-lidded. "I didn't really. I was just pissed off that she dared to come to my home. In case you hadn't noticed, I do what I can to keep my personal life from intersecting with my work life."

"I actually had noticed that," confessed Melora. "I'm just glad to hear it's a standing tradition, and not that you're hiding me."

"I am hiding you, but believe me, it's to keep you safe from their gossip-hungry, fevered brains. The less those people know about me, the safer my personal life is."

Made sense, she supposed. "So, did you do the surgery?"

"Yeah, I gave in. Went in and did the surgery. I let her assist, too."

Melora glanced over at him – he seemed so tired and more than a little defeated. She didn't know what to say; she knew that sometimes, words couldn't do emotion justice.

"It's just such a waste. She'd have been a great doctor. Had the makings of a great surgeon, even. Logical, good instincts, knew the material even better than some of the doctors. Tenacious, too. She reminded me a lot of my kid sister, Alice."

This was new information. Melora perked up. "I haven't heard you mention her."

"No?" He definitely was sounding tired. And maybe a little drunk. "She's dead."

Melora hadn't expected that. She felt instantly terrible; she'd told him her whole sob story about losing her mother and brother and he'd kept this to himself. "Robert, I'm sorry-"

He waved away the sentiment. "It was a long time ago. She drowned when she was fifteen. I was seventeen. We were at our family's place in the Hamptons, on the beach. She was an excellent swimmer, but that day there were riptides and…well, by the time we realized she'd been gone too long, it was too late. None of us knew CPR then, anyway."

She found herself wondering if that was what compelled him to become a doctor, but said nothing.

"I think we talked a little bit about my family that first night, with you freezing your ass off in this very seat," Robert continued.

"I remember it well," Melora commented, getting a wry smile from him. "You didn't tell me much, aside from the fact that they existed. And that they were into meat, so to speak."

Robert chuckled at how she phrased it. "I'll elaborate. My mom's still alive, and she's great. My dad, on the other hand…he was an asshole. A drunk and a cheat and a bully. But successful and admittedly good at his job. And my kid sister Alice was the only person he was ever nice to. She'd stick up for me when he'd get mad at me for, I don't know, breathing. He'd find any excuse to pick on me. I guess he didn't think I was the sort of son he deserved, which I can only assume would be, like him, a thick-necked loudmouth. He was one of the reasons I took up karate, by the way."

Melora stayed quiet and let him talk, keeping her eyes on the road as he gazed out the window at the world they drove past, the hint of dawn approaching.

"Alice was really the light in what could have been a dark place. If it weren't for her and my mom – but mostly her – I might very well have ended up exactly like him. She could make us smile and laugh right in the middle of a heated argument – she just knew what to say and when and how to say it. A complete goof but a strong and wise ally." He smiled a little at the memory, but the smile faded and he continued speaking. "When Dad got drunk after that – which was often – he'd usually wind up the evening by telling me it should have been me. And I guess maybe…I guess maybe I thought he was right for a while. But eventually, I realized that just because a guy's your father, that doesn't mean you have to like him. And you definitely don't have to love him. That sort of respect is earned, and I was never more relieved than I was when I realized that his words were his problem, not mine. Once I let go of that, everything sort of fell into place."

Melora pulled the car into his garage then, and he helped carry her things into the house, where Gretel happily danced around them, as if telling them she'd been worried. Robert set Melora's things down in the hall for now, motioning for her to come into his study, which she hadn't spent much time in yet.

Robert pointed to a photograph on his bookshelf; it was an old family photo from when Robert was a teenager. "That's Alice," he said, pointing to the young teen standing beside him.

Alice had long blond hair like her mother, a round face, and the brightest, dimpled smile of any of them. And Melora understood it all then. She smiled at the picture, simply because it felt like not smiling back at her would be an insult to the glory of that smile. "Wow. She even looks like Lucy."

"Yeah. And I know – I mean, obviously, I know Lucy Knight was Lucy Knight and not Alice. But that was what caught my attention first about Lucy. Lucy wasn't as outgoing as Alice was, but she had that same smile the few times I saw it." He looked over Melora's shoulder at the picture and he, too, had to smile a little.

"So when Lucy came pounding on my door last Christmas with her sob story about her patient, I told her I couldn't care less and to get off my property. But goddammit, that kid stood her ground. She told me – to my face – that she'd assumed that I had become a surgeon in order to help people, to save lives. And for a second, it was like my sister was yelling at me, trying to make me remember why I got into this business to begin with. So I caved. I mean, I pretended like I only did it because I respected her moxie in making such a bold move, which was partly true. But also, I did it because I didn't want to…to disappoint my sister. And I didn't want my dad to be right. I became a surgeon to show him that, while I would have gladly taken Alice's place on the ocean floor that day, if I was going to live, I was going to make it count. My life was going to matter."

Melora set the photo back on the shelf and looked at him then. She could feel her own eyes fill with tears, thinking of her own lost family and all the things she never got to tell them. "You know your sister would be so proud of you right now, Robert." Melora smiled a little through her tears. "Lucy, too. She knew she had the best surgeon working on her. And if she had to go, at least she was surrounded by people who cared about her. I really believe she had to know that." She held him close then, as the darkness outside still held firm despite the hour – nearly six a.m.

He embraced her, kissing the top of her head, knowing that he had picked exactly the right person to share all of this with. She understood. Since he'd shown up at her door, she had known exactly what to say and do, and what not to say and do. And she understood what it was to be left behind, not just once, but twice. "I hope so. She was a good kid. They both were. They deserved to live and do all the things that they would have done. And if I'm left behind, I'm making it count."

"You already are," Melora assured him.

They left the study then, heading upstairs with her overnight bag. It was beyond late, and he felt he could easily sleep through the next day. But then he remembered something. "Hey, I wanted to tell you something tonight, before…you know, all of that happened."

"Yeah?" They were at the top of the stairs now, and she faced him. "What's that?"

"I love you, Ms. Weir. No obligatory sentiment about it."

She kissed him, without hesitation. She hadn't expected to hear it, but she knew it was real, this thing between them. "I love you too, Dr. Romano." She said it easily, without even having to think about it. It felt overdue and natural.

"Good," he said, and they continued on to bed, where the respite of sleep awaited them. They were both asleep before the sun finally brought the dawn, wrapped in the comfort of one another, feeling that if nothing else, at least a sort of peace was possible together.