DISCLAIMER: There is another dimension beyond those that are known to man.
It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the
middle ground between sweetness and snark, between reality and imagination
and it lies between the creations of NBC/ WB execs and the exploitations of
such by yours truly. You're traveling through that dimension, a dimension
of sight and sound, but mostly of mind. That's the signpost up ahead - your
next stop, the Cordano Zone!
Damn. Rod Serling kicked ass.
Still hanging on in hope of some heat? Here, have an appetizer..
Ravaged. Exhausted. Disheartened.
She leaned against the corner of the elevator, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She had been so young, so full of potential and promise. And Elizabeth had believed, almost to the very last moment that she would pull through. The paddles would charge, she would make contact, and that heart would leap back into action.
It had to.
She and Romano could move heaven and earth in the OR for strangers; certainly they could patch together this young girl that they had both worked with, trained, even grown fond of. But the battered tissue simply couldn't take it. He'd held up his bloody hands, an unfamiliar gesture of surrender. She could feel black rage coming from him in waves, yet his voice was surprisingly gentle as he told her to call it.
Another tear, a shuddering sigh.
I want to go home.
The doors slid open, and she stepped into the ER. Police milling about, flashbulbs popping, and a strange calm pallor in air usually charged with electricity. She wanted to find Mark.
She needed to find Mark.
His face would light up. He may stumble a bit. His eagerness would probably make his speech a little jumbled. And that would be all right with her. She needed something to work out exactly as she expected it to. Something dark, something close, something sweet. Something denied for too long. To escape to some warm, inviting spot, to beat back the hand of death by indulging so selfishly in the one thing that was meant to create life.
She made her way to the admit desk. He was wiping the board, and she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek to the hollow between his shoulder blades. "Hey," he spoke wearily, rubbing her arms gently.
"Please tell me we can get out of her and bring this horrible day to an end," she sighed. He turned in her embrace, and she saw it in his expression before he could utter a word.
"You're not going home, are you?"
"It's a zoo down here, Elizabeth. There are cops and questions, and there's bound to be reporters sooner or later. Add that to the insanity we usually have to brave." Mark removed his glasses and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I can't go."
Even though she understood, she felt a flash of irrational anger. Making a mighty effort, she spared him a verbal lashing, instead kissing him softly. "I guess I'll take the El." They embraced gently, and then Kerry Weaver was crutching her way around the corner, calling his name. She released him, watching dejectedly as he walked away. Realizing she'd left her purse upstairs, she dragged herself back to the elevator. In the solitude of the car, she muttered a curse. She didn't want to be alone.
Well, there's always Mother, waiting at home.for once.
The thought made her queasy. Sighing heavily, she began searching for other options.
She couldn't offer to stay on and work - she was knackered. Probably couldn't cut a straight line with a gun to her head.
There was the on-call room, but she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep.
She could cross the street to Doc's. She had heard that some of the staff had assembled there, absorbing the shock with each other's support. "Well, it's better than nothing," she said aloud, exiting the elevator. She focused her eyes straight ahead, moving down the hall. She slipped into the locker room, retrieved her bag, and exited quickly. She passed the lounge and saw Donald Anspaugh inside, speaking with a man she didn't recognize. Probably a detective. She shuddered, kept moving, one foot in front of the other. Don't look to the side, just walk straight ahead, to the elevator, and out.
She stopped short, her breath caught in her throat. The door to the Chief of Staff's office was ajar, and she saw a shadow of movement inside. An explosion of vibrant and colorful thought exploded through her brain, making her sway on her knees and utter an audible gasp. Before she knew it, her fingers were closed around the edge of the door, pushing it open.
"Robert?"
He turned in his chair, looking pale and spent. "Lizzie," he intoned weakly. "Thought you'd be out of here by now."
"As did I," she sighed. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and she sat gratefully. "Why are you still here?"
"Emergency meeting with insurance and legal. What a pain in the ass." He grumbled
She nodded.
"What about you? Shouldn't you be off somewhere bonding with Mommy Dearest or canoodling with Greene?" His words were biting, but his tone was one of utter defeat "Those have to be at least slightly more appealing ideas than sitting here watching the minutes tick off."
She decided to let his verbal barb slide. "The very idea of sharing with Mother like we're best of friends, after all this time." She grimaced a bit. "I just can't stomach it."
"And Mark?" Romano goaded gently.
Elizabeth was surprised to find that the walls she usually raised with him were decidedly absent. "Mark's doing his job." She replied simply. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes burning into hers. A charged silence hung between them for a moment, and then Elizabeth spoke again. "Some of the ER staff is over at Doc Magoo's.I was considering joining them." She tried to keep her voice light. "Will you come?"
He smirked gently. "No thanks, Lizzie. That place has bad karma for me, if you'll recall."
She blushed a bit. "So what will you do? Sit vigil with our insulinoma patient all night long?"
He snorted brief laughter. "Something like that."
"Well, if you're sure." she rose slowly from her chair, and he followed suit. He walked her to the door, his hand gently brushing her back. Her mind raced suddenly, recalling all the times he had found some small reason or excuse to touch her. Ushering her through a door, drawing her into a room, a procedure, a conversation. His hands brushing her earlier in their urgency to define Lucy's best course of treatment - her arm, her hip.
"Elizabeth?" His voice jerked her from her reverie.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you're going to be all right, but I think you just answered me. You should go home and sleep."
His face was mere inches from hers, her shoulder nearly brushing his chest.
Don't do it.
His eyes, so deep brown with emotion they were nearly black. The angle of cheek more defined as the pains of the day drew his skin gaunt over bone. The lips pursed tight as his tongue played in the corner of his jaw. His jaw, which lead down to a well-defined throat, clavicle. Her vision screwed in for microscopic detail...the wonderfully masculine skin, the first dusting of fine hair that surely spread down below what was visible through the v-neck of navy blus scrubs..
Elizabeth...
How many times had she traced those lines behind the lids of her closed eyes? Tasted the chemistry of his skin beneath her tongue? Drawn strong arms around her waist, caressed broad shoulders with curious palms? Shared her breath, her heartbeat...her body?
Go home. Now.
Was that her mind? Or his voice?
His face open, focused on hers, brows raised expectantly. Waiting for whatever question, whatever statement may have caused her to linger in his presence.
Her hand covered his, pushing the door closed. His jaw went slack in surprise. Her voice drifted on the air, though she did not recall speaking. "Robert?" His eyes began to burn, seemingly against his will.
"I don't want to be alone tonight."
Damn. Rod Serling kicked ass.
Still hanging on in hope of some heat? Here, have an appetizer..
Ravaged. Exhausted. Disheartened.
She leaned against the corner of the elevator, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She had been so young, so full of potential and promise. And Elizabeth had believed, almost to the very last moment that she would pull through. The paddles would charge, she would make contact, and that heart would leap back into action.
It had to.
She and Romano could move heaven and earth in the OR for strangers; certainly they could patch together this young girl that they had both worked with, trained, even grown fond of. But the battered tissue simply couldn't take it. He'd held up his bloody hands, an unfamiliar gesture of surrender. She could feel black rage coming from him in waves, yet his voice was surprisingly gentle as he told her to call it.
Another tear, a shuddering sigh.
I want to go home.
The doors slid open, and she stepped into the ER. Police milling about, flashbulbs popping, and a strange calm pallor in air usually charged with electricity. She wanted to find Mark.
She needed to find Mark.
His face would light up. He may stumble a bit. His eagerness would probably make his speech a little jumbled. And that would be all right with her. She needed something to work out exactly as she expected it to. Something dark, something close, something sweet. Something denied for too long. To escape to some warm, inviting spot, to beat back the hand of death by indulging so selfishly in the one thing that was meant to create life.
She made her way to the admit desk. He was wiping the board, and she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek to the hollow between his shoulder blades. "Hey," he spoke wearily, rubbing her arms gently.
"Please tell me we can get out of her and bring this horrible day to an end," she sighed. He turned in her embrace, and she saw it in his expression before he could utter a word.
"You're not going home, are you?"
"It's a zoo down here, Elizabeth. There are cops and questions, and there's bound to be reporters sooner or later. Add that to the insanity we usually have to brave." Mark removed his glasses and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I can't go."
Even though she understood, she felt a flash of irrational anger. Making a mighty effort, she spared him a verbal lashing, instead kissing him softly. "I guess I'll take the El." They embraced gently, and then Kerry Weaver was crutching her way around the corner, calling his name. She released him, watching dejectedly as he walked away. Realizing she'd left her purse upstairs, she dragged herself back to the elevator. In the solitude of the car, she muttered a curse. She didn't want to be alone.
Well, there's always Mother, waiting at home.for once.
The thought made her queasy. Sighing heavily, she began searching for other options.
She couldn't offer to stay on and work - she was knackered. Probably couldn't cut a straight line with a gun to her head.
There was the on-call room, but she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep.
She could cross the street to Doc's. She had heard that some of the staff had assembled there, absorbing the shock with each other's support. "Well, it's better than nothing," she said aloud, exiting the elevator. She focused her eyes straight ahead, moving down the hall. She slipped into the locker room, retrieved her bag, and exited quickly. She passed the lounge and saw Donald Anspaugh inside, speaking with a man she didn't recognize. Probably a detective. She shuddered, kept moving, one foot in front of the other. Don't look to the side, just walk straight ahead, to the elevator, and out.
She stopped short, her breath caught in her throat. The door to the Chief of Staff's office was ajar, and she saw a shadow of movement inside. An explosion of vibrant and colorful thought exploded through her brain, making her sway on her knees and utter an audible gasp. Before she knew it, her fingers were closed around the edge of the door, pushing it open.
"Robert?"
He turned in his chair, looking pale and spent. "Lizzie," he intoned weakly. "Thought you'd be out of here by now."
"As did I," she sighed. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and she sat gratefully. "Why are you still here?"
"Emergency meeting with insurance and legal. What a pain in the ass." He grumbled
She nodded.
"What about you? Shouldn't you be off somewhere bonding with Mommy Dearest or canoodling with Greene?" His words were biting, but his tone was one of utter defeat "Those have to be at least slightly more appealing ideas than sitting here watching the minutes tick off."
She decided to let his verbal barb slide. "The very idea of sharing with Mother like we're best of friends, after all this time." She grimaced a bit. "I just can't stomach it."
"And Mark?" Romano goaded gently.
Elizabeth was surprised to find that the walls she usually raised with him were decidedly absent. "Mark's doing his job." She replied simply. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes burning into hers. A charged silence hung between them for a moment, and then Elizabeth spoke again. "Some of the ER staff is over at Doc Magoo's.I was considering joining them." She tried to keep her voice light. "Will you come?"
He smirked gently. "No thanks, Lizzie. That place has bad karma for me, if you'll recall."
She blushed a bit. "So what will you do? Sit vigil with our insulinoma patient all night long?"
He snorted brief laughter. "Something like that."
"Well, if you're sure." she rose slowly from her chair, and he followed suit. He walked her to the door, his hand gently brushing her back. Her mind raced suddenly, recalling all the times he had found some small reason or excuse to touch her. Ushering her through a door, drawing her into a room, a procedure, a conversation. His hands brushing her earlier in their urgency to define Lucy's best course of treatment - her arm, her hip.
"Elizabeth?" His voice jerked her from her reverie.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you're going to be all right, but I think you just answered me. You should go home and sleep."
His face was mere inches from hers, her shoulder nearly brushing his chest.
Don't do it.
His eyes, so deep brown with emotion they were nearly black. The angle of cheek more defined as the pains of the day drew his skin gaunt over bone. The lips pursed tight as his tongue played in the corner of his jaw. His jaw, which lead down to a well-defined throat, clavicle. Her vision screwed in for microscopic detail...the wonderfully masculine skin, the first dusting of fine hair that surely spread down below what was visible through the v-neck of navy blus scrubs..
Elizabeth...
How many times had she traced those lines behind the lids of her closed eyes? Tasted the chemistry of his skin beneath her tongue? Drawn strong arms around her waist, caressed broad shoulders with curious palms? Shared her breath, her heartbeat...her body?
Go home. Now.
Was that her mind? Or his voice?
His face open, focused on hers, brows raised expectantly. Waiting for whatever question, whatever statement may have caused her to linger in his presence.
Her hand covered his, pushing the door closed. His jaw went slack in surprise. Her voice drifted on the air, though she did not recall speaking. "Robert?" His eyes began to burn, seemingly against his will.
"I don't want to be alone tonight."