Disclaimer : I don't own these characters. They belong to the series ER.
**This story is a sequel to « The Cruelest Cut »(rated R). If you're brave enough to face the corsett in that one, you'll see that we're moving to a full-on cordano. I just wanted to explore the possibilities...
After washing her face and putting on her robe, Elizabeth went back into the bedroom and knelt by the bed. « Edward, Edward, wake up, » she insisted, shaking his shoulder firmly. As he mumbled a reply, she started handing him his clothes. « Look, » she continued, « you have to leave. »
« Huh ? » he managed.
Elizabeth was now standing across the room with her back to the wall and eyes down cast. « I can't have you here when my daughter wakes up. You should really just go. »
« Early shift anyway, » muttered Dorsett, now fully awake but not even half dressed. She left the room, went downstairs to the sofa and pulled the afghan over her knees. On his way out, he stopped and looked at her. « Elizabeth ? » he asked hesitantly. « Come on, now. I know I wasn't that bad.. » he continued waiting for her to say something. « Alright then, » he replied to the silence, » jingled his carkeys in his pocket, and left her house.
Elizabeth just sat there, knees drawn up under her chin, staring into space. She honestly didn't know what to say to him. She had no idea if he was good, bad or anything else. It was as if everything that had happened that day was a bad dream. The only thing she wanted to believe was what she had dreamt about Robert, about his touch, his kiss.
She let a ragged sigh escape her lips and hugged her knees tighter. « No ! » She exclaimed. No thoughts of Robert or Dorsett or any man. She was still grieving for Mark, still figuring out how to raise her daughter on her own and how to run the surgical department in Robert's absence. She had no time for anyone but herself and her child, she thought emphatically. Springing up, she strode into Ella's room, ready to do something, anything, to put her life as a mother first and to push her life as a woman somewhere far down the list. But Ella was breathing evenly, curled into a sweet blond ball under her blanket, and Elizabeth was left with nothing to do but go back to her room, to strip the sheets from the bed and to lie alone on the bare mattress, sleepless until morning.
*
Robert lay awake looking at the ceiling. He felt numb and grateful for the numbness, for the still half-drugged state that kept him from fully realizing what had just happened and all that he had just lost. A nurse entered, checked his chart and left, but since his eyes were only half open, she hadn't bothered to speak to him at all. Or perhaps she was afraid to. Not knowing what he'd say, how he would act. Afraid of the awful, bitter bile that he might spit onto anyone who dared to express their sympathy.
The door to the hall was left slightly ajar, and Robert heard the muffled comings and goings of the doctors on the surgical floor. His colleagues. His former colleagues. Then Gunn's voice. Robert steeled himself for the first confrontation with his doctor after the surgery, for the first post- op examination, the first admission that it was all over. But Gunn didn't enter immediately. He was talking to someone, laughing. « That cute candy striper ? » he was asking with a chuckle. « Not even close, »replied the other voice. « A scrub nurse ? » « You're getting warmer » the second voice bragged, « but I'm now beyond nurses, » he assured triumphantly. After a silence, Gunn's voice resumed more quietly, « Dorsett, watch yourself. »
Robert tried to sleep through Gunn's exam, barely acknowledging the surgeon's prods, barely nodding at his words. His eyes half-closed, he kept thinking about the conversation he had overheard. Dorsett was making the rounds of County's single scene, to the entertainment of everyone. He was annoying but amusing enough, and both he and the lady du jour seemed to laugh along with the jokes about them. Why would Gunn sound so shocked about his most recent escapade ? Hospital gossip ! thought Robert. A welcome distraction even if he would never admit it.
**This story is a sequel to « The Cruelest Cut »(rated R). If you're brave enough to face the corsett in that one, you'll see that we're moving to a full-on cordano. I just wanted to explore the possibilities...
After washing her face and putting on her robe, Elizabeth went back into the bedroom and knelt by the bed. « Edward, Edward, wake up, » she insisted, shaking his shoulder firmly. As he mumbled a reply, she started handing him his clothes. « Look, » she continued, « you have to leave. »
« Huh ? » he managed.
Elizabeth was now standing across the room with her back to the wall and eyes down cast. « I can't have you here when my daughter wakes up. You should really just go. »
« Early shift anyway, » muttered Dorsett, now fully awake but not even half dressed. She left the room, went downstairs to the sofa and pulled the afghan over her knees. On his way out, he stopped and looked at her. « Elizabeth ? » he asked hesitantly. « Come on, now. I know I wasn't that bad.. » he continued waiting for her to say something. « Alright then, » he replied to the silence, » jingled his carkeys in his pocket, and left her house.
Elizabeth just sat there, knees drawn up under her chin, staring into space. She honestly didn't know what to say to him. She had no idea if he was good, bad or anything else. It was as if everything that had happened that day was a bad dream. The only thing she wanted to believe was what she had dreamt about Robert, about his touch, his kiss.
She let a ragged sigh escape her lips and hugged her knees tighter. « No ! » She exclaimed. No thoughts of Robert or Dorsett or any man. She was still grieving for Mark, still figuring out how to raise her daughter on her own and how to run the surgical department in Robert's absence. She had no time for anyone but herself and her child, she thought emphatically. Springing up, she strode into Ella's room, ready to do something, anything, to put her life as a mother first and to push her life as a woman somewhere far down the list. But Ella was breathing evenly, curled into a sweet blond ball under her blanket, and Elizabeth was left with nothing to do but go back to her room, to strip the sheets from the bed and to lie alone on the bare mattress, sleepless until morning.
*
Robert lay awake looking at the ceiling. He felt numb and grateful for the numbness, for the still half-drugged state that kept him from fully realizing what had just happened and all that he had just lost. A nurse entered, checked his chart and left, but since his eyes were only half open, she hadn't bothered to speak to him at all. Or perhaps she was afraid to. Not knowing what he'd say, how he would act. Afraid of the awful, bitter bile that he might spit onto anyone who dared to express their sympathy.
The door to the hall was left slightly ajar, and Robert heard the muffled comings and goings of the doctors on the surgical floor. His colleagues. His former colleagues. Then Gunn's voice. Robert steeled himself for the first confrontation with his doctor after the surgery, for the first post- op examination, the first admission that it was all over. But Gunn didn't enter immediately. He was talking to someone, laughing. « That cute candy striper ? » he was asking with a chuckle. « Not even close, »replied the other voice. « A scrub nurse ? » « You're getting warmer » the second voice bragged, « but I'm now beyond nurses, » he assured triumphantly. After a silence, Gunn's voice resumed more quietly, « Dorsett, watch yourself. »
Robert tried to sleep through Gunn's exam, barely acknowledging the surgeon's prods, barely nodding at his words. His eyes half-closed, he kept thinking about the conversation he had overheard. Dorsett was making the rounds of County's single scene, to the entertainment of everyone. He was annoying but amusing enough, and both he and the lady du jour seemed to laugh along with the jokes about them. Why would Gunn sound so shocked about his most recent escapade ? Hospital gossip ! thought Robert. A welcome distraction even if he would never admit it.