Waking up in Robert's bed that second morning, Erin glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. The digital face read six-thirty, and she yawned. She'd have four hours to kill before reporting to work; two with the man lying next to her. She rolled onto her side, facing him, her head propped on her arm. As she gazed silently at his sleeping face, she wondered again just exactly what she had gotten herself into. It was unnerving to realize just how much she was beginning to care for him, especially when she couldn't be sure how he was feeling. "Just because he isn't being cruel about it, that doesn't mean he isn't using you." She sighed to herself, trying to quiet that nagging inner voice of doubt. "Don't forget that this is Robert Romano here, the man you yourself once labeled the Prick of the Litter." Surprisingly, that thought made her smile.

Suddenly, his voice broke her reverie: "Take a picture; it'll last longer."

Erin realized she was still hovering over him. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Oh, no," his voice dripped sarcasm. "I can sleep like the dead with someone staring at me."

She giggled a bit. "I bet it's easier to sleep through my staring than it is through your snoring."

"Nobody said you have to sleep here. You've got your own bed to go to."

His words, as well as their delivery, bit into her like teeth, and she could feel the faintest sting of tears behind her eyes. She rolled over, clutching the bed linens to her throat. Almost immediately, however, Robert was embracing her from behind, his chin finding its way into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "That was nasty." Erin did not respond, so he tried again. "I'm not used to early morning pillow talk." She still did not answer, and he sighed heavily. "Guess maybe that's something I'm gonna have to work on." She was quiet a moment longer, then turned her face slightly so they could make eye contact.

"Don't go to any trouble on my account," she said, allowing the slightest edge of hostility to creep into her voice. She was pleased to see that the notion of her being upset did actually affect him. After letting him twist a moment longer, she finally relented. "You could always just keep your mouth shut." She cocked her head to one side, as if something had suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, wait, you can't do that either." Robert's expression relaxed a little as he realized that, despite the jibe, she was letting him off the hook. She moved onto her back beneath him and allowed him to kiss her.

"I may not be used to waking up with you here," he said quietly, "but I must admit, it is kind of nice."

"Oh, 'kind of'? Careful, Robert," she chided gently, "you almost paid me a compliment there."

"Yeah, well, I was hoping to get one in return."

She laughed a little, pulling his mouth back down to hers. Resisting, he continued speaking against her lips. "I'm serious. This is the part where you say, 'Why, thank you, Robert. It's kind of nice being here'."

She laughed again at his critique of her manners, eyes widening a bit when she realized he meant every word he said. "You're serious."

He nodded. "Don't you like it here?"

Erin glanced around the room. "Here, meaning.?"

"Here, meaning.here. The bed, the room, the house."

"Well, there's definitely something to be said for a king size bed." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.

"And the rest of it?" Robert hounded.

"Well," she hesitated. "It's nice. It's a big enough place." She looked around at the beige walls, the chocolate drapes, the russet carpeting. "A little brown for my taste."

"What's wrong with brown?"

"Nothing." she tried to continue, but he interrupted her.

"It's a warm color, goes with everything. My decorator said it adds a sense of class, of dignity."

She giggled, and he became genuinely annoyed. He shifted his weight, intending to move back to the other side of the bed, but she caught him by the shoulders. "Are you mad at me?" She asked, astonished. He tried to shrug it off, but she persisted. "Robert, what does it matter if I like it or not?" Her voice sounded nonchalant, but when his brown eyes locked with her green ones, he could see that she knew exactly how loaded that question was. He struggled for a minute, then answered in a small voice:

"I don't know."

Erin could read his clouded expression. She knew that it did matter to him, that he wasn't sure why, and that it bugged the hell out of him. She pulled him back into her full embrace and lifted her head to his, her tongue dancing lightly over his lips. He held her tightly as she deepened the kiss, moving his body gently but firmly over hers. He could feel her mouth smiling under his and pulled back. "What?"

"You know, some camel or some jade could really open the place up."

"The animal and the green rocks?"

She rolled her eyes. "Exactly." He buried his face in her neck, gently nibbling on the flesh beneath her ear. "I'm serious though." Paint a couple of walls, maybe re-upholster some furniture. You know, you could put a really nice skylight in the living room. That would really brighten things up. Oh, and I know the mallard is a symbol of masculinity, but this place looks like a wild bird refuge."

Roberts fingers slid up and covered her mouth. "Do you want to talk decorating, or do you want to make love?" He asked bluntly. His other hand moving beneath the covers made it clear to her which he would choose, but she couldn't resist teasing just a little.

"Can't we do both?" He kissed her mouth one last time.

"Sure. I could just tune you out." He pulled the bedclothes up over his head and disappeared under them as she giggled. A moment later, much to Robert's satisfaction, those giggles changed into a different sound entirely.

When Erin walked into the ER through the ambulance bay doors a few hours later, she was greeted by an irate Dr. Weaver. "Where have you been?" She demanded. "I've been paging you for over an hour! I called your house, I got no answer, I could only get your cellular voice mail." Erin hastily dug her pager from her purse, frantic to discover why she hadn't heard it. "Dr. Weaver -" she began, to no avail; Kerry's tirade continued. "You know, Erin, you're a doctor of emergency medicine now. You're being considered for an attending position. If you're going to succeed at all you have to realize that just because you aren't on the schedule doesn't mean you can disappear!"

"Dr. Weaver -"

"You should know by now that we experience unexpected problems here all the time! There's no way of knowing when we are going to need to call someone in to help pick up the slack. I need people I can depend on around here."

"DR. WEAVER!" Erin raised her voice and finally stopped the woman's flood of words. "I don't know who you've been paging, but it wasn't me." She held her beeper out for Kerry to inspect. It was indeed working, but had not logged a message since 6:32 the previous night. Kerry was momentarily taken aback, but managed to press on a bit more. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Erin squared her shoulders. "I wasn't home. And my cell was off because I went to the movies last night, and I didn't think to turn it back on because I always put my pager right next to the bed." Dr. Weaver's expression told her that the woman had no idea what to say next. Erin inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. "I am very sorry you could not reach me. I won't forget to turn my cell back on again."

"See that you don't," Kerry answered in her typical, I-have-to-get-the- last-word-in manner. She walked over to the admit desk, leaning heavily on her crutch. "Frank, who the hell is 4837?" She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when Michael Gallant dashed in to the department, nearly killing himself on the biohazard bin. "I got the pages!" He gasped as he tried to regain his balance. "I'm sorry it took so long, the sergeant wouldn't let me leave in the middle of an exercise." Erin could barely stifle her amusement as Kerry blanched in embarrassment. She turned and found herself face to face with Susan Lewis, who was similarly choking on her own giggles. "Tell me that wasn't worth the ass-chewing," she grinned and she and Erin allowed themselves to share a moment of laughter as they headed into the lounge. "So worth it."

"So, let me see if I've got this straight." Susan spoke as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Cell phone's off, not answering at home, pager's on the bedside table," Susan cocked any eyebrow. "New guy?" Erin forced herself not to react, but Lewis was undaunted; even taking the absence of response as an affirmation. "Mm-hmm. I thought so. Who is he?" Erin still said nothing, merely slipped into her lab coat and hung her stethoscope around her neck. "Oh, come on, I've been here since five, I need a pick me up."

Erin laughed, shaking her head. "What makes you so sure you're right?"

"Well, you must have been at his place. Otherwise, you'd have picked up the phone at home."

"Oh, and I couldn't have been out running errands."

"Not on a morning when you could sleep 'til ten. Besides, grocery shopping or getting your oil changed doesn't leave a girl glowing like that." Susan stepped a little bit closer. "And if my mechanic bit me, I'm pretty sure I'd sue."

Erin's face was blank. Susan gently pulled the opening of her blouse aside, revealing a red mark on her chest half concealed by the cup of her bra. "Oh, my God!" Erin gasped, pulling her shirt closed and fastening the top two buttons.

"So give!" Susan pleaded. "Tell me who he is!" Erin shook her head. "Oh, come on!"

"No way," she insisted. "I've jinxed myself enough in the past. Not this time, baby."

"Oh, so it's kinda serious." Susan mused as they left the lounge together.

"I don't know," Erin answered in a light tone. "Might be someday."

"Ooh," Susan took a sip from her cup. "So when do I get to meet him?"

Erin patted her friends shoulder with a grin. "Don't hold your breath."

"Ah, you're no fun," Lewis groused as they reached the desk and took turns rifling through the charts. "So is he the jealous type?"

"Huh?"

"We're still going out tomorrow night, right?"

"Oh!" Erin smiled, remembering. "Absolutely. Abby on board?"

"As far as I know."

"Cool."

Erin stepped out to the waiting room. "Sylvia Reynolds?" She called out, and a tiny, silver haired woman rose to her feet. "That's me, honey."

"Hello. I'm Dr. Windsor. You're here today to have your glucose checked?" She took notes on the chart as the woman explained her problems with dizziness and nausea, leading her to curtain area three as they spoke. From the corner of her eye, she could see Weaver speaking to Gallant. Kerry's face was flushed, and Michael didn't seem too happy. Smiling to herself, she turned back to Mrs. Reynolds, ready to start her shift.

Four hours, two traumas, and one dead patient later, Erin made her way to the roof for a moment of peace and quiet. She was squinting up into the afternoon sun when a voice behind her made her jump. "Thought I might find you here." She turned to see Robert slowly approaching. He was dressed in the same scrubs and lab coat she'd seen him in a hundred times. Yet now, knowing what was underneath, she had an entirely new appreciation for his appearance. "Didn't know you were looking for me."

"Neither did I. Until I got to the ER and you weren't there." His tone was even, his face expressionless, and Erin found herself feeling quite off balance. "Did you need something?" she asked carefully.

He shrugged. "Heard Weaver came down on you pretty hard for some such thing."

She shrugged as well. "Nothing I can't handle. Especially since I wasn't completely at fault. I can't believe she couldn't even keep my pager number straight." Robert seemed amused by that. "It always helps when Weaver puts her foot in her mouth," she finished, tucking her hair behind her ear. Robert crossed his arms over his chest, and Erin felt a twinge of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Who me?' He walked past her to look down off the edge of the building. "Why wouldn't I be?" Something suddenly dawned on her, and she moved next to him, leaning against the fire escape. She looked at his profile and spoke in a gentle voice.

"It's weird, knowing she's gone for good, isn't it?"

Robert tried to brush her question off. "She'd been gone, she was in Hawaii. This isn't any different."

Erin sighed. "Yes, it is. This time, you know she isn't coming back."

"So?" He shot back, a bit too quickly.

"So.."

Robert glanced at her and was unnerved by her calm demeanor and diplomatic expression. "Now, this is what's weird. We shouldn't be talking about this."

"Why not? She was important to both of us."

"Yeah, but.."

"But what? Robert, I've known how you feel about her from the very beginning. Please don't treat me like I'm stupid."

"I'm not," he insisted hotly.

"Then stop pretending like it doesn't bother you." He crossed his arms again, tighter this time and she continued as gently as she could. "Robert, love can begin overnight, but it doesn't end that way. It takes time. Time and patience and frustration and hurt, and sometimes it never completely goes away. But whatever happens, you have to let it become a part of you, a piece of who you are. You can't just shut it out, because eventually, that door is going to open again. And if you don't deal with the ugly stuff now, you're just going to find it waiting for you on the other side." She reached out and touched his arm, and he finally turned his face to hers. "Now, you can deal with this with me, or without me. It's up to you. And whatever you choose, whether you share it with me or deal with it privately, I'll be there when you reach the other side. But please, Robert, deal with this. Now." His face was suddenly full of naked longing and regret and he reached for her. She embraced him warmly, her fingers gently stroking the fine hair at the base of his skull.

Robert held on to her firmly, struggling with her words as the echoed in his ears. His mind was racing and he opened his mouth to speak. "Erin..."

A sudden beeping cut him off, and she withdrew regretfully from his arms. She checked her beeper. "They need me in the ER," she said, tenderly stroking his cheek. "Are you all right?" He composed himself quickly, nodding as her pager chimed once more. She groaned at it and headed across the roof, gravel crunching under her feet. Then his beeper sounded as well. She glanced back over her shoulder. "The ER," he confirmed. Realizing this probably meant there was a major trauma rolling in, they rushed inside together.

When her shift was finally over, Erin headed for the lounge to collect her things. She planted her hands in the small of her back and arched her chest. Her spine gave a satisfying crackle, and she sighed heavily. She was fumbling with her locker, trying to decide whether or not to pay a visit to the surgical floor before leaving, when the door swung open. Carter entered the room, and she smiled. "Hey, you," he grinned, unshouldering his satchel. "Just coming on?"

"Are you kidding?" She scoffed. "Stick a fork in me, baby, I'm done." She lay her stethoscope on her locker shelf and removed her lab coat. "You pulling ten or twelve?"

"Hopefully just ten. I'm supposed to be on again at five tomorrow."

"Yuck," she commiserated, closing the metal door and searching her bag for her keys. She was about to wish John a good night when he turned to her, his face serious. "Hey, could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure," she nodded. "What's up?"

"You're going out tonight, right? With Susan and Abby?"

"Tomorrow night," she corrected.

"Oh," John looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Erin's curiosity piqued. Finally, he managed to continue. "Do you think you could, you know, keep an eye on her for me?"

"Who? Abby?" He nodded, she felt a bit concerned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Well, I don't really know. She's just seemed.you know. Down, lately. I mean, I know it's been tough for her for a while. Breaking up with Luka, then that neighbor of hers attacking her. And now that Mark is gone." He trailed off, and Erin nodded in understanding. She got the feeling that there was more to John's unease than he was saying. Yet she could also tell he had his reasons for keeping it to himself. Rather than trying to pry it out of him, she simply lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Of course I'll watch out for her. She's my friend, too, you know."

John smiled gratefully at her, and the two headed out of the lounge together. They proceeded to the admit desk, where they rounded the board and exchanged pertinent patient information. Finally, after he had left her to begin his shift, Erin was forced to come to a decision. She could walk out into the ambulance bay, make her way to her car, and drive home. Or she could venture upstairs and check things out on the surgical ward. She wasn't sure how comfortable Romano would be with her presence, and she began replaying her day in her head. She remembered the young girl she had sent upstairs needing surgery for a ruptured appendix. She decided that, if she really wanted to go, she could always use her desire to follow op on that case as an excuse. Her mind made up, she moved toward the elevator.

Once upstairs, she easily located the young woman in question. She was in recovery, extubated, and sleeping under sedation. Erin picked up her chart and scanned it briefly, when Shirley approached quietly. "Her sepsis should be under control by the morning," she said in a soft voice. Erin nodded, returning the clipboard. She leaned over to check the antibiotics hanging from the IV stand, and the nurse spoke again. "UNOS found a match for one of our liver patients about an hour ago. He's in OR three." Erin glanced up, as if confused. "Dr. Romano," Shirley clarified, a small grin on her lips. "He'll probably be a few more hours."

Erin felt a kernel of panic twist inside her stomach. Making a mighty effort to act oblivious, she asked casually, "Why would I care?" She let the question die on her tongue as Shirley crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression clearly communicated that she knew exactly what was going on and could not be duped. Erin raised her left hand to her forehead, not sure what to do or say. Finally, Shirley reached out and sympathetically patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Dr. Windsor. Your secret is safe with me." Erin's face was still cautiously suspicious, so she reassured her once more. "Hey, whatever makes him happy makes my life a WHOLE lot easier. You think I'm gonna rock the boat?" A teasing light filled her eyes. "Of course, I never realized you were glutton for punishment."

Erin finally allowed herself to relax. "Believe me, Shirley, neither did I. OR three?"

"Yes. That surgical team is the only one still here, and I doubt any of them would notice if you were to peek in."

"And you?"

"Never saw you."

"Thanks, Shirley." She walked out of the room and across the hall. She made her way into the correct observation area and watched for a few minutes. Robert was, of course, absorbed in the task at hand; he never looked up from the patient once. Erin finally turned to leave, wondering what she should do next.



Transplant surgery was always a kick. Robert knew he was a talented surgeon, but transplants were a true opportunity to indulge the good old God Complex. This one could not have gone better if he'd written the scenario himself. When he finally removed his mask and surgical cap, he found himself filled with the usual well-deserved exhaustion. He checked the clock in the scrub room; it was almost two in the morning. No reason to go downstairs, he thought to himself, she was off hours ago. He headed for the locker room to change, then to his office to check messages. There were plenty, but none that he deemed worthy of his attention such a late hour. He retrieved his suit coat and briefcase, locked his office door, and proceeded out to his car.

He had already climbed in and gunned the engine before he noticed something stuck beneath one of the windshield wipers. He stepped out and pulled it free. A key, no label, not even a keyring. Still, he had a pretty good idea where it came from. Sliding back behind the wheel, he shut the door and pulled out of his parking space. Fifteen minutes later, he stood on the front porch of Erin's house. He paused a moment before pushing the key into the lock. It turned easily. He stepped inside, closing the door and locking it behind him. He made his way into the kitchen, where a dim light burned warmly over the sink. He found a bottle of Merlot, a single glass, and a note. "Sorry I couldn't stick around to see the transplant results. Toast your victory, or drown your sorrows." It was signed simply with an E. Robert uncorked the bottle and poured himself half a glass. Then he moved around the counter, and gently pushed open the bedroom door.

The television was on, providing just enough illumination. Erin was lying on her side in a long, white T-shirt. Sophie, her dog, was sprawled out next to her. Her hair was tousled on the pillow, and she was deeply asleep. Robert stood over her for a moment, gazing silently down at her. "You're really something, aren't you?" He whispered. "What the hell do you want with a guy like me?" She stirred a little, but did not wake. Sighing heavily, Robert finished his drink and set the glass on her dresser. He undressed quietly, letting his clothes lay where they fell, to tired to worry about them. Then he switched the TV off and walked around to the other side of the bed. "Go on, girl," he gently shooed the retriever. Sophie stretched, yawned, and reluctantly left her mistress' side to curl up on a pillow on the floor. Robert eased himself under the covers, molding the front of his body to the back of Erin's. He smoothed her hair down and rested his chin in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, his favorite part of her anatomy. There's just something about the skin of a woman's neck, he thought to himself as he inhaled her fragrance. He considered waking her, but finally decided not to. He simply settled in against her, listening to her hypnotic breathing and drifting off to sleep.

Sometime later, Erin stirred, and came slowly awake. She could feel his arms around her, his breath on her shoulder, and her stomach twisted in delighted knots. When she left her key on his car, she hadn't been certain he would use it. Even as she lay in his embrace, she wondered if it had been an appropriate thing to do, or if it was too much too soon. She pondered whether she should let him keep it, or if she should ask for it back. Would she even have to ask? Maybe he would give it back on his own. Did she want him to give it back? Her mind was racing, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Let's just wait and see, she repeated silently to herself. Let's just wait and see.

The morning dawned crisp and cool, and a gentle breeze wafted in through the open window. Erin awoke, finding herself in the exact same position, still cradled in Robert's arms. She lie a moment, silent and still, savoring the feel of his body against her. Then, taking great care not to jostle him, she tried to extract herself from his embrace. His voice in her ear startled her. "I'm awake."

"Oh, good." She rolled over to face him. "Morning."

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, seeming quite content.

"How did everything go last night?"

"A certifiable success," he gently nuzzled her cheek. "The key was a nice surprise."

Erin wasn't sure why, but she felt herself blushing. "Glad you liked it."

"Is it mine to keep?"

She bit her lower lip in thought. "Do you want it?"

He smiled a little. "It's nice to have a choice where to go at the end of the day," he mused. "Especially if it one choice is not ending the day alone."

She arched up a little and kissed him warmly. "Then it's yours." They lay together in the quiet until Sophie hopped up onto the bed and dropped a soggy chew toy on Robert's chest. He grimaced as Erin laughed, but obligingly picked it up and tossed it for the dog to fetch. "Gross," he muttered, wiping his fingers on the comforter.

"It's just her way of saying she likes you," Erin assured him. "Hey, how is Gretel with other dogs?" "She's all right, I guess." "I only ask because I was going to take Sophie to the park today. She hasn't been out of the yard in days, and she gets hyper without a good workout every now and then. Would Gretel like to join us?" Robert seemed genuinely touched that she would ask, and Erin was struck once again by what a paradox he was. Kissing him once more, she bounced out of bed and walked into her closet. She emerged in spandex leggings and tank top and a jersey windbreaker. "You're going now?" Robert asked, a bit flabbergasted. She nodded as she perched on the edge of the bed to put on her socks and running shoes. "I have to be in at nine. She stood up and zipped up her jacket. Sophie trotted into the room, and Robert muttered, "Damn spoiled mutt."

"Hey!" Erin chided, kneeling on the bed to kiss him good bye. "That's my baby you're talking about." Robert's hands slid up to caress her throat as their lips met. "So, I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"Guess so," she grinned, squirming out of his grasp before he could change her mind about leaving. She called to her dog, and the two left the room together. "She'll come to the doggie door if I call her, right?" Robert heard the rattle of the chain leash, Sophie's sharp, excited bark, then the thud of the front door closing. With a groan, he threw back the bedclothes and headed for the bathroom. He showered and dressed at a leisurely pace, then made his own exit. After locking the door behind him, he easily slipped the key onto his keyring. Only then did it occur to him that, even though she had been on her way to his house to retrieve his dog, she never asked for a key herself. He started to wonder what that meant, when a voice from inside welled up, filling his head.

"Hello?! This is why we don't do this, remember? We don't have time to play guessing games, or to spend worrying about how she feels about what, or what she thinks about anything! You don't really want to waste your energy trying to glean the correct meaning from everything she does or says, do you? It's all crap, remember? A stupid waste of time."

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and slid into the Jaguar's driver seat. "So, what's a little wasted time?" He spoke the words aloud before putting the vehicle in gear.