He came awake slowly, blinking his eyes in the growing light. Grey
sunlight shining refracted through the raindrops on the window. He was
alone in the bed. Glanced at the clock - 5:48. She was awake before the
alarm. He swung his legs off the bed, arched, stretched. Crossed the room
and pushed open the bathroom door. Smiled piteously at her huddled form.
"If you're going to be hugging that thing more than me, I may start to
develop a complex."
Erin dragged her hollow gaze from the bright porcelain to his face. "I'll remember that next time," she hissed quietly. "Your dry cleaning bill will skyrocket." He chuckled a bit, and wet a washcloth at the sink. He tossed it to her, and she pressed it to her mouth. "This is so gross."
She rose to her feet, adjusted her nightshirt and flushed the toilet, then made her way to the sink. He handed her a toothbrush, and she looked at him gratefully. He triggered the water for the shower, then returned his eyes to her. "So, when do you think you're going to start telling people?"
She sniffed brief laughter, answering through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hey, up until ten hours ago I wasn't even sure when I was going to tell you." She spit, grimaced, and wiped her mouth once more. "Don't you think we should give ourselves some time to adjust to the idea?"
He shrugged slightly. "If you can be very, very careful. That hellhole you work in is a deathtrap as it is."
"I'll be very careful," she smiled, kissing him softly. "I promise, Daddy."
A shiver ran down his spine, and he snaked an arm around her waist. "Better be careful. Like you said, I'm not completely adjusted to this whole idea, and a man could be affected by a statement like that in more than one way." Erin raised an eyebrow at him, indicating she wasn't too concerned with misinterpretation. She casually unbuttoned her nightshirt and let it fall to the floor, exposing every inch of her form to his appreciative eye. She pulled open the door to the shower and slipped one leg inside, casting a coy little glance over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" She asked in a husky voice.
"Well, not yet," he returned wickedly, "but if the hot water holds out, who knows?"
"What are you doing here today? I thought sure you'd be praying to the Porcelain God at least a day or two more."
Susan's voice made Erin smile despite the rolling queasiness in her stomach. "Eh. I feel lousy, but I'd feel even lousier if all I had to do was lie in bed and think about it." She said lamely. "But if you would take the arm lac in curtain three, I'd really appreciate it." She handed the chart over to Susan. "Chef in a seafood restaurant sliced his arm open with a butcher knife. Needs tetanus, a few sub q's and sutures. And he reeks of fish." Her stomach groaned at the thought. "Which I just cannot handle today."
"Wow...thanks. Smelly fish guy, I'm so excited." Erin smiled at the woman's back as she walked away. She returned to the board to sign out her previous patient, then decided to head to the lounge. A glass of juice, some saltine crackers, and she thought she just might make it through the rest of her shift. She was just getting ready to flop down onto the couch when her pager sounded from her hip.
Page to the suture room? 911? What?!
Still carrying the crackers in one hand, she hurried down the hall. The door was closed and the blinds were drawn, so it wasn't until she pulled the door open that she was able to even guess at what might be going on.
Robert stood next to the gurney, his arms folded lightly over his chest. "Shut the door." His voice was soft but full of command. "Lock it." Erin obeyed, and was preparing to make some wisecrack about amour in the workplace. But then he stepped aside and she saw the SonoSite set up behind him. Her heart fluttered a little, and he grinned. He gestured wordlessly to the gurney and she nodded. She unbuttoned and unzipped the waistband of her pants and pushed them low on her hips, then slid onto the mattress. Robert squirted some lubricant on her stomach and she gasped. "Cold!" He switched on the machine...
And suddenly looked and felt quite awkward. "You know, I can't remember the last time I did one of these for my own purposes..."
Erin smiled, amused, and took the hand that held the scan in hers. She guided him over her lower abdomen, watching grainy black and white entwine and dance across the screen. It took a minute or two....
"There.." His voice was hushed.
And there it was. A tiny, kidney shaped shadow, outlined in static white. Erin's breath caught in her throat. A small flutter of butterfly wings in the center, and a rapid whooshing sound filled her ears. And just as all her clinical ability left her, Robert seemed to rediscover his. "Pulse around 180 beats a minute. Cord looks good, amount of amniotic fluid looks good." He shifted the wand to better view the top of the head. "Looks like about eight weeks.." He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek. Her hand squeezed his wrist, and he leaned over to lightly brush his lips over her forehead. They remained perfectly still for a moment, gazing at the image on the screen, listening to the heartbeat like hummingbird wings. Finally, Robert reached over and switched off the screen, and offered Erin a cloth. She wiped her stomach clean and re-fastened the waist of her pants. Then she lifted her eyes to his.
"October."
She barely made it to the twelve-week mark without anyone finding out. The nausea was pervasive and unbearable, and not so easy to hide. The constant ducking in and out of the bathroom had everyone suspicious. She ran the gamut of excuses over and over.flu, bad food from wherever she'd eaten last, allergies...she swore Gallant was starting to suspect she was bulimic.
And then, one afternoon, she and Kerry had to cover a particularly grueling gunshot trauma that soaked them in blood from head to toe. They headed to the locker room to change into scrubs, and Kerry's breath caught a bit as Erin lifted her shirt. The hollow of the young woman's stomach wasn't hollow anymore.
"My God, Erin! Are you pregnant?"
Erin yanked the top down reflexively, flushing. Weaver leaned heavily on her crutch. "Oh, you are! Oh, my God! How far along?" Her words were gentle, but her expression was one Erin could not quite understand. Envy? Longing? Sadness? Strange...
Erin sighed. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "I finished my first trimester yesterday." She ran a hand absently over her navel. "I would have said something sooner, but you know the old suspicions - I didn't want to jinx anything." Kerry nodded slowly, and Erin could have sworn she saw tears shimmering behind her glasses. "Kerry? Are you all right?"
Weaver nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm fine. Uh, congratulations. Make sure you discuss this with Susan as soon as possible. We'll want to make sure to keep you away from anything too dangerous or contagious, and you'll want to make sure you get all the paperwork for insurance and maternity leave squared away. Also, are you using an OB here at the hospital? Because if you've gone somewhere else, we can make sure and extend privileges to whomever you're seeing, if that's more convenient for you. And it might be, especially if you were to go into labor while working...."
Erin was not quite prepared for the torrent of babbling she was facing, and found herself simply nodding, wide-eyed. "Uh, thanks, Kerry."
"Sure. Sure. As long as you're taken care of.."
The door swung open suddenly, and a very triumphant looking Romano came striding through the door, brandishing a bound folder proudly in one hand. Erin's eyes lit up. "You got it."
He nodded, slapping the folder down on the table. "Yes. County General is now the front-runner in the arena of Pancreatic Transplant and Regeneration Research. New laboratory facilities, expanded budget for consumables.all told, 7.25 million dollars over a three year period, all thanks to yours truly." He eyed Weaver condescendingly. "I do believe that is the largest sum of money every granted to this dive in a single sitting."
Weaver nodded, still looking numb, shell-shocked. "Very nice work, Robert."
Erin would have expected some biting sarcasm in response to Weaver's bland approval, but he only strode across the room, wrapping one arm around her waist and laying one hand on her stomach. "Yes, I'm just proliferating all over the place lately." He glanced up. "She has told you she's in a family way, hasn't she?"
"We were just discussing that. Congratulations again." She moved towards the exit, looking fatigued. "Make sure you leave a copy of that," she gestured to the folder on the table, "in my box."
"Already done -" Robert called, mostly to the closing door. Then he turned his attention back to Erin. He rubbed her stomach gently. "Lunch still in there, or should I get the hell out of the way?" She poked him in the ribs. "Hey, it isn't my fault that kissing you has become a game of Russian roulette these days."
"Oh, it isn't?" She cocked an eyebrow as he moved in closer.
"Yeah, yeah..shut up." He covered her mouth with his, still gently rubbing her stomach. She slid her hand up around his neck as the door swung open. Elizabeth entered, stopping short as she caught sight of them - his lips working against hers, her body melting against his...and his hand protectively covering her abdomen. She knew at once what it meant, and her breath left her in a sharp gasp.
"My God - you're having a baby?"
Erin and Robert parted quickly, as if caught. "Lizzie!" He enthused. "Heard the joyful news? Finally County's gossip mill churns out a winner, eh?" He nuzzled Erin's cheek affectionately. "Yes, it's true. I knocked her up. Never had any doubt the boys could swim, but even I was surprised by their speed and precision. I guess Romano genetics just refuse to be denied." He rubbed her stomach once more, nosed her hair aside to kiss her neck, and in a flash, was gone. Elizabeth still stood rooted to the same spot. Erin shifted her scrub top over her shoulders and smoothed it down. When she caught sight of Dr. Corday's thunderstruck expression, she laughed a little. "Elizabeth? You okay?"
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. "Uh, yes. Yes, fine. Just reeling at the notion of Robert Romano having a child is all."
"Please," Erin winced. "No cracks about the antichrist, or 'Rosemary's Baby'. The thing is in my body, after all."
"No, no." Elizabeth still looked stunned. "That's not what I meant. It's just that, in all the time I've known him, everything he's said..it just left me with the impression that he didn't want children."
Erin wasn't quite sure how to respond. Corday's tone left her feeling a bit defensive, and she didn't like it. The silence hung between them until Elizabeth came out of her trance and saw Erin's face. "He looks quite happy, though," she offered at once. "I guess he's decided being a father agrees with him after all." Suddenly uncomfortable, she flushed and offered a weak smile. "Congratulations Erin, really. Please - don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything I can do for you. Anything at all." She turned on her heel and left the room, and Erin sank into a chair.
"Sorry, Elizabeth." She spoke softly to the empty room.
"You had your shot..."
For once, April wasn't the cruelest month.
With her first trimester over, the nausea finally began to subside. And as word of her pregnancy spread, life took on an air of optimism, of expectation. Long awaited and well deserved.
The rush of hormones took her completely by surprise. It was as if the nausea of the first few months had caused her to sick up every ounce of self-control she'd had in regards to Robert. Quite simply, she couldn't keep her hands off him. At home, she was never more than a foot or so away from him. And at work....
He'd discovered her weakness quite easily.
It began innocently enough. A multi-victim trauma. Lydia's page for a surgical consult. He breezed into the room with his usual bombastic air as she was prepping for a central line. He leaned over her to check the patient -
....the taut muscle of his shoulder brushing her arm, the smell of his skin, the line of his jaw, the rumble of his voice in his chest, the flexing of ligament and tendon under the flesh of his forearm....
and she went completely weak in the knees. His arm, lightning quick, catching her weight, holding it against him. His eyes, concern tempered by professional restraint. Her muttered, "I'm okay." The sense of utter loss when he let her go. She finished the procedure as quick as she could and turned the patient over to Luka, stumbling out of the trauma room. She made her way blindly to the lounge, gasping for breath, unable to believe what was happening, how powerful the urge. Cold water, her mind intoned. Drink it, splash your face with it - hell, dump it down the front of your shirt if you have to.
She should have known he would follow her.
He burst into the lounge. "Are you all right? Are you dizzy? Cramping?" She shook her head. "Then what the hell was that back there?"
A dozen explanations sprang into her head, but before she could catalogue them and select one, she had crossed the room and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled his head down to hers and captured his lips with her own. "Erin -" he protested against her mouth. She seized the opportunity and slipped her tongue in against his, feeling a surge of pure desire explode through her stomach. His hands caught her shoulders and he tried to push her away, but she clutched his neck with her fingers, refusing to let go. He responded to her kiss briefly, hoping to appease her, but it only enticed her, leaving her needing him more than before. "Windsor - " he muttered again, and she finally relented.
"What?!"
His mouth curled in a grin at her grunt of frustration.
"Shouldn't we at least lock the doors?"
Hurried footsteps, the metallic click of rods sliding home, and they collapsed on the worn leather sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Lips meeting and parting, tongues tasting, fingers fighting offensive clothing, and finally, desperate connection. His mouth against her ear: "I always knew I'd get you on this couch eventually."
She glanced up at him, eyes full of fire. "Call Weaver in here, and you're a dead man."
His sexy little chuckle, and then his face was buried in her neck, his fingers in her hair, and he was moving over her, within her, and she was lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of love and lust, heat and desire, need and satisfaction.
.
Erin dragged her hollow gaze from the bright porcelain to his face. "I'll remember that next time," she hissed quietly. "Your dry cleaning bill will skyrocket." He chuckled a bit, and wet a washcloth at the sink. He tossed it to her, and she pressed it to her mouth. "This is so gross."
She rose to her feet, adjusted her nightshirt and flushed the toilet, then made her way to the sink. He handed her a toothbrush, and she looked at him gratefully. He triggered the water for the shower, then returned his eyes to her. "So, when do you think you're going to start telling people?"
She sniffed brief laughter, answering through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hey, up until ten hours ago I wasn't even sure when I was going to tell you." She spit, grimaced, and wiped her mouth once more. "Don't you think we should give ourselves some time to adjust to the idea?"
He shrugged slightly. "If you can be very, very careful. That hellhole you work in is a deathtrap as it is."
"I'll be very careful," she smiled, kissing him softly. "I promise, Daddy."
A shiver ran down his spine, and he snaked an arm around her waist. "Better be careful. Like you said, I'm not completely adjusted to this whole idea, and a man could be affected by a statement like that in more than one way." Erin raised an eyebrow at him, indicating she wasn't too concerned with misinterpretation. She casually unbuttoned her nightshirt and let it fall to the floor, exposing every inch of her form to his appreciative eye. She pulled open the door to the shower and slipped one leg inside, casting a coy little glance over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" She asked in a husky voice.
"Well, not yet," he returned wickedly, "but if the hot water holds out, who knows?"
"What are you doing here today? I thought sure you'd be praying to the Porcelain God at least a day or two more."
Susan's voice made Erin smile despite the rolling queasiness in her stomach. "Eh. I feel lousy, but I'd feel even lousier if all I had to do was lie in bed and think about it." She said lamely. "But if you would take the arm lac in curtain three, I'd really appreciate it." She handed the chart over to Susan. "Chef in a seafood restaurant sliced his arm open with a butcher knife. Needs tetanus, a few sub q's and sutures. And he reeks of fish." Her stomach groaned at the thought. "Which I just cannot handle today."
"Wow...thanks. Smelly fish guy, I'm so excited." Erin smiled at the woman's back as she walked away. She returned to the board to sign out her previous patient, then decided to head to the lounge. A glass of juice, some saltine crackers, and she thought she just might make it through the rest of her shift. She was just getting ready to flop down onto the couch when her pager sounded from her hip.
Page to the suture room? 911? What?!
Still carrying the crackers in one hand, she hurried down the hall. The door was closed and the blinds were drawn, so it wasn't until she pulled the door open that she was able to even guess at what might be going on.
Robert stood next to the gurney, his arms folded lightly over his chest. "Shut the door." His voice was soft but full of command. "Lock it." Erin obeyed, and was preparing to make some wisecrack about amour in the workplace. But then he stepped aside and she saw the SonoSite set up behind him. Her heart fluttered a little, and he grinned. He gestured wordlessly to the gurney and she nodded. She unbuttoned and unzipped the waistband of her pants and pushed them low on her hips, then slid onto the mattress. Robert squirted some lubricant on her stomach and she gasped. "Cold!" He switched on the machine...
And suddenly looked and felt quite awkward. "You know, I can't remember the last time I did one of these for my own purposes..."
Erin smiled, amused, and took the hand that held the scan in hers. She guided him over her lower abdomen, watching grainy black and white entwine and dance across the screen. It took a minute or two....
"There.." His voice was hushed.
And there it was. A tiny, kidney shaped shadow, outlined in static white. Erin's breath caught in her throat. A small flutter of butterfly wings in the center, and a rapid whooshing sound filled her ears. And just as all her clinical ability left her, Robert seemed to rediscover his. "Pulse around 180 beats a minute. Cord looks good, amount of amniotic fluid looks good." He shifted the wand to better view the top of the head. "Looks like about eight weeks.." He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek. Her hand squeezed his wrist, and he leaned over to lightly brush his lips over her forehead. They remained perfectly still for a moment, gazing at the image on the screen, listening to the heartbeat like hummingbird wings. Finally, Robert reached over and switched off the screen, and offered Erin a cloth. She wiped her stomach clean and re-fastened the waist of her pants. Then she lifted her eyes to his.
"October."
She barely made it to the twelve-week mark without anyone finding out. The nausea was pervasive and unbearable, and not so easy to hide. The constant ducking in and out of the bathroom had everyone suspicious. She ran the gamut of excuses over and over.flu, bad food from wherever she'd eaten last, allergies...she swore Gallant was starting to suspect she was bulimic.
And then, one afternoon, she and Kerry had to cover a particularly grueling gunshot trauma that soaked them in blood from head to toe. They headed to the locker room to change into scrubs, and Kerry's breath caught a bit as Erin lifted her shirt. The hollow of the young woman's stomach wasn't hollow anymore.
"My God, Erin! Are you pregnant?"
Erin yanked the top down reflexively, flushing. Weaver leaned heavily on her crutch. "Oh, you are! Oh, my God! How far along?" Her words were gentle, but her expression was one Erin could not quite understand. Envy? Longing? Sadness? Strange...
Erin sighed. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "I finished my first trimester yesterday." She ran a hand absently over her navel. "I would have said something sooner, but you know the old suspicions - I didn't want to jinx anything." Kerry nodded slowly, and Erin could have sworn she saw tears shimmering behind her glasses. "Kerry? Are you all right?"
Weaver nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm fine. Uh, congratulations. Make sure you discuss this with Susan as soon as possible. We'll want to make sure to keep you away from anything too dangerous or contagious, and you'll want to make sure you get all the paperwork for insurance and maternity leave squared away. Also, are you using an OB here at the hospital? Because if you've gone somewhere else, we can make sure and extend privileges to whomever you're seeing, if that's more convenient for you. And it might be, especially if you were to go into labor while working...."
Erin was not quite prepared for the torrent of babbling she was facing, and found herself simply nodding, wide-eyed. "Uh, thanks, Kerry."
"Sure. Sure. As long as you're taken care of.."
The door swung open suddenly, and a very triumphant looking Romano came striding through the door, brandishing a bound folder proudly in one hand. Erin's eyes lit up. "You got it."
He nodded, slapping the folder down on the table. "Yes. County General is now the front-runner in the arena of Pancreatic Transplant and Regeneration Research. New laboratory facilities, expanded budget for consumables.all told, 7.25 million dollars over a three year period, all thanks to yours truly." He eyed Weaver condescendingly. "I do believe that is the largest sum of money every granted to this dive in a single sitting."
Weaver nodded, still looking numb, shell-shocked. "Very nice work, Robert."
Erin would have expected some biting sarcasm in response to Weaver's bland approval, but he only strode across the room, wrapping one arm around her waist and laying one hand on her stomach. "Yes, I'm just proliferating all over the place lately." He glanced up. "She has told you she's in a family way, hasn't she?"
"We were just discussing that. Congratulations again." She moved towards the exit, looking fatigued. "Make sure you leave a copy of that," she gestured to the folder on the table, "in my box."
"Already done -" Robert called, mostly to the closing door. Then he turned his attention back to Erin. He rubbed her stomach gently. "Lunch still in there, or should I get the hell out of the way?" She poked him in the ribs. "Hey, it isn't my fault that kissing you has become a game of Russian roulette these days."
"Oh, it isn't?" She cocked an eyebrow as he moved in closer.
"Yeah, yeah..shut up." He covered her mouth with his, still gently rubbing her stomach. She slid her hand up around his neck as the door swung open. Elizabeth entered, stopping short as she caught sight of them - his lips working against hers, her body melting against his...and his hand protectively covering her abdomen. She knew at once what it meant, and her breath left her in a sharp gasp.
"My God - you're having a baby?"
Erin and Robert parted quickly, as if caught. "Lizzie!" He enthused. "Heard the joyful news? Finally County's gossip mill churns out a winner, eh?" He nuzzled Erin's cheek affectionately. "Yes, it's true. I knocked her up. Never had any doubt the boys could swim, but even I was surprised by their speed and precision. I guess Romano genetics just refuse to be denied." He rubbed her stomach once more, nosed her hair aside to kiss her neck, and in a flash, was gone. Elizabeth still stood rooted to the same spot. Erin shifted her scrub top over her shoulders and smoothed it down. When she caught sight of Dr. Corday's thunderstruck expression, she laughed a little. "Elizabeth? You okay?"
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. "Uh, yes. Yes, fine. Just reeling at the notion of Robert Romano having a child is all."
"Please," Erin winced. "No cracks about the antichrist, or 'Rosemary's Baby'. The thing is in my body, after all."
"No, no." Elizabeth still looked stunned. "That's not what I meant. It's just that, in all the time I've known him, everything he's said..it just left me with the impression that he didn't want children."
Erin wasn't quite sure how to respond. Corday's tone left her feeling a bit defensive, and she didn't like it. The silence hung between them until Elizabeth came out of her trance and saw Erin's face. "He looks quite happy, though," she offered at once. "I guess he's decided being a father agrees with him after all." Suddenly uncomfortable, she flushed and offered a weak smile. "Congratulations Erin, really. Please - don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything I can do for you. Anything at all." She turned on her heel and left the room, and Erin sank into a chair.
"Sorry, Elizabeth." She spoke softly to the empty room.
"You had your shot..."
For once, April wasn't the cruelest month.
With her first trimester over, the nausea finally began to subside. And as word of her pregnancy spread, life took on an air of optimism, of expectation. Long awaited and well deserved.
The rush of hormones took her completely by surprise. It was as if the nausea of the first few months had caused her to sick up every ounce of self-control she'd had in regards to Robert. Quite simply, she couldn't keep her hands off him. At home, she was never more than a foot or so away from him. And at work....
He'd discovered her weakness quite easily.
It began innocently enough. A multi-victim trauma. Lydia's page for a surgical consult. He breezed into the room with his usual bombastic air as she was prepping for a central line. He leaned over her to check the patient -
....the taut muscle of his shoulder brushing her arm, the smell of his skin, the line of his jaw, the rumble of his voice in his chest, the flexing of ligament and tendon under the flesh of his forearm....
and she went completely weak in the knees. His arm, lightning quick, catching her weight, holding it against him. His eyes, concern tempered by professional restraint. Her muttered, "I'm okay." The sense of utter loss when he let her go. She finished the procedure as quick as she could and turned the patient over to Luka, stumbling out of the trauma room. She made her way blindly to the lounge, gasping for breath, unable to believe what was happening, how powerful the urge. Cold water, her mind intoned. Drink it, splash your face with it - hell, dump it down the front of your shirt if you have to.
She should have known he would follow her.
He burst into the lounge. "Are you all right? Are you dizzy? Cramping?" She shook her head. "Then what the hell was that back there?"
A dozen explanations sprang into her head, but before she could catalogue them and select one, she had crossed the room and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled his head down to hers and captured his lips with her own. "Erin -" he protested against her mouth. She seized the opportunity and slipped her tongue in against his, feeling a surge of pure desire explode through her stomach. His hands caught her shoulders and he tried to push her away, but she clutched his neck with her fingers, refusing to let go. He responded to her kiss briefly, hoping to appease her, but it only enticed her, leaving her needing him more than before. "Windsor - " he muttered again, and she finally relented.
"What?!"
His mouth curled in a grin at her grunt of frustration.
"Shouldn't we at least lock the doors?"
Hurried footsteps, the metallic click of rods sliding home, and they collapsed on the worn leather sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Lips meeting and parting, tongues tasting, fingers fighting offensive clothing, and finally, desperate connection. His mouth against her ear: "I always knew I'd get you on this couch eventually."
She glanced up at him, eyes full of fire. "Call Weaver in here, and you're a dead man."
His sexy little chuckle, and then his face was buried in her neck, his fingers in her hair, and he was moving over her, within her, and she was lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of love and lust, heat and desire, need and satisfaction.
.