SUMMARY: This story takes place post-Season Nine, starting about two weeks
after Romano's surgery in 'When Night Meets Day'. He's still on medical
leave, but occasionally puttering around the hospital; things with Lizzie
are still complicated, at best. Chock full of RomanoAngst and a lil' bit of
Cordano love, baby!
DISCLAIMER: Francesca is mine, and I claim her selfishly . everyone else is the story belongs to . uh, not me.
RATING: A safe PG-13, for mild swearing.
SPOILERS: Everything up to and including Season Nine, so if you had no idea that Romano's lost his arm for good and revealed his unrequited love for Lizzie, then, uh, surprise! . and since all the spoilers for Season Ten somehow revolve around the horror that is Carby (*shudder*), I'm not using anything that's not from my twisted imagination.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: 'Bulletproof' is a wonderful song by the kick-ass Canadian band, Blue Rodeo (give it a listen!!!). Also, I want to give all those incredibly gifted Romano writers much credit for this story . it was jointly inspired by many great stories posted on ff.net and also some of the Rocket-centric ideas being thrown around on the Television Without Pity message boards, so thanks to everyone who inadvertently helped to create this humble piece of fanfiction.
***************************
Tell me one more time again just like I didn't hear you
Like I don't know what's going through your mind, I do
I play the same game too
I know it's hard to stop
Even when you want to
Now the moon lights up your face and I can see you're crying
You never liked me to see you cry, it's true
I've done some crying too
You know, the hardest part about it
Is trying to hide it from you
It would be great to be so strong
I never needed anybody's help to get along
But we're so scared of the silence and the tricks that we use
Oh, we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't want to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof
Well I finally found the way to hide from all your glances
Til the waiting game we play is through
I can, but what's the use
When all I really want to do is hide out with you?
It would be great to be so strong
You never needed anybody's help to get along
We're so scared of the silence and the language that we use
Yeah we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't wanna kid about it, I'm not bulletproof
Tell me one more time again I guess I didn't hear you
And I don't know all the secrets that you keep inside
I tried the same thing too
But they all come pouring out of me when I'm talking to you
It would be great to be so strong
You never needed anybody else's help to carry on
But I'm not waking up each morning with forgiveness I can use
No I'm careless and I'm cruel, but I'm still easily bruised
But I'm so tired of lying about it, I'm not bulletproof
No, and I'm not going to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof
*****************************
'Sometimes', Dr. Elizabeth Corday grumbled inwardly, 'I really, really hate this job.'
This morning was one of those moments when County seemed like the ninth circle of Hell. The patients were far more noisy and demanding, the doctors all seemed arrogant or incompetent, the hustle and bustle that usually set Elizabeth's blood on fire was too panicked, too rushed and severely irritating. On days like these, she preferred to hide out in the surgeons' lounge and bury herself in paperwork, blowing off a little steam. Today, however, it seemed she would not be afforded that pleasure. After a long, sleepless night with a very cranky and very feverish Ella, Elizabeth, who had spent the past twelve hours curled up in a stiff rocking chair, attempting to soothe her crying daughter, had been called in, ruining the first official day off she'd had in weeks. Within the first two hours of this surprise, early morning shift, Dr. Corday had already been called down to the ER for five surgical consults, was scheduled for a bowel reconstruction later that afternoon and had been forced to break the news to concerned parents that their son's brain tumour surgery would be highly dangerous and potentially fatal.
It was only eight am, but already Elizabeth felt weary, totally exhausted. The thought of stretching out on one of the leather couches in the lounge and catching a quick nap was an extremely appealing one. She made a beeline for the elevator, hoping to duck by any of the attendings who would request another consult.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a younger woman milling about the Admittance desk, looking very much out of place. As this wasn't an exceptional occurrence around the ER, what with the frazzled family members and worried potential patients, Elizabeth was not at all surprised by her presence. What did surprise Dr. Corday though, was when the woman flagged her down.
"Hi there, sorry to bother you," the stranger called out, approaching Elizabeth at a quick pace. Elizabeth gazed around, looking for the individual whom this woman was addressing, then realizing with mild surprise that it was her. "I know this is a big hospital, but do you, by any chance, know Dr. Robert Romano? I asked one of the clerks, but he told me "to follow the screams of pain" to the "Dark Lord", so .I'm a bit lost." She offered an apologetic smile.
Elizabeth returned one in kind. The woman was a little shorter and of slender build; her light auburn hair was fashionably straightened and fell about her shoulders like a shining orange halo. She possessed well-chiseled features that were both stunning and delicate: strong jaw line, prominent cheekbones and brow, smooth, pale skin peppered with freckles and a pair of deep-set, dark brown eyes so intense they almost looked . familiar.
"Why yes, I do," she responded pleasantly. "And I must apologize about the clerking staff. They've had some . past qualms, with our ER Chief." She extended her hand. "I'm Dr. Corday, by the way."
The other woman shook it heartily. "Francesca Romano."
Elizabeth was quite visibly taken aback. "Romano," she repeated incredulously, her mind furiously skimming any kind of family background that he'd offered in the past, memories producing some vague references to his mother and a niece. "I assume that Robert's a relation?"
"My older brother, actually." Off Corday's look of surprise, Francesca added knowingly, "He doesn't like to talk about the family ... or much of anything else that personally relates to him, for that matter." Her tone was light and joking, but tinged with that trademark Romano sarcasm that Elizabeth was beginning to think must run in their genes.
"No, he hadn't really made any mention of a sister ."
"Well, that's typical. He didn't even bother informing his own mother about the severed arm until five weeks after the fact. Me and the twins didn't find out until a couple months ago." Francesca rolled her eyes and sighed deeply, her affectionate annoyance quite obvious. "I practically had to do recon to find out his surgery was two weeks ago, and I got here as soon as I could . but he still doesn't know I'm in town."
"He wasn't at home?"
Francesca shook her head. "No, I tried there earlier this afternoon. Figured he'd probably be here instead; even a medical leave couldn't keep Robert away from this hospital."
"Raging lions couldn't keep Robert away from here, as much as he'd refuse to admit it," Dr. Corday admonished, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Actually, he's probably in his office, if in the building at all." Another surge of guilt as images of the amputation came flooding back: the whirring noise of the bone saw, the pale, broken figure laying still on the gurney, his mumbled, sleepy tone . "Still trying to keep a low profile, I imagine."
('I love you, Elizabeth.')
"Have you seen him?" Francesca questioned. "Is he . doing alright?"
Elizabeth looked away, remorse still swelling within her. He hadn't called or contacted her in any way, but that was Robert . unwilling to divulge his weakness, his humanity; Elizabeth knew, had inwardly admitted days ago, that he would have wanted to see her. "I, ah, visited him in Recovery, but I haven't seen him since he was discharged, no," she stammered, a thousand excuses on the tip of her tongue. (-Too busy, Ella, Acting Chief of Surgery, med. students-) "He's doing well with the prosthetic, I believe."
(-Too scared.-)
Elizabeth continued to blush under Francesca's intense gaze, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu rising in her bones. The dark eyes searched her features with the same penetrating quality of Robert's stare, as if trying to read her soul. She felt . naked . under that fiery look, as if all her secrets were laid bare.
Francesca nodded slowly. "Good. I'd still like to see for myself, though. Could you point me in the direction of his office?"
Elizabeth, having regained some of her composure and all of her pride, smiled again, though this time the expression was slightly forced. "I'll do you one better; I'll fetch him myself. Just have a seat in the reception area and I promise, he'll be here soon."
The younger woman simply beamed at the promise of her older sibling. "Great! That's perfect! Thank you so much for all your help, Dr. Corday. Robert's lucky to work with people like you."
"It was my pleasure. Nice to finally meet some of Robert's family."
They shook hands again and parted ways; Elizabeth towards Dr. Romano's temporary ER office, and Francesca towards the sea of plastic chairs. Corday let the pandemonium of the emergency room flow by her; the elegant, calculated rhythm of chaos which thrived in the hospital. Abby and Chuny raced by, flocking to a newly-arrived gurney and bloodied patient, the paramedics shouting stats and medical history. Susan and Carter treated victims of a minor car accident in Exam One, bustling around the room with same seamless, practiced precision that every ER doctor at County possessed. The beauty of this controlled chaos, this deliberate anarchy never failed to impress Elizabeth, who took a moment to admire her workplace as Gallant loped past her in a flurry of white and green. But this welcome distraction was soon over and the British surgeon quickened her pace, and her breathing, as she approached Dr. Romano's office.
'Just act normal . everything's perfectly alright; it's simply Robert .that "loathsome toad", remember? Just Robert .'
(. the man who confessed his love for you two weeks ago .)
Appalled to find herself blushing, Elizabeth inhaled deeply and stepped into the room. (-Ah, bollocks. He was so damn sedated, he probably doesn't even remember .and even if he does, it's not like it matters. Patients say all sorts of nonsense while under anesthesia .and since it's just Robert, it's not to be taken seriously, right?-)
(-Right?-)
She turned the corner and stepped into the darkened room. At the sight of his short, slim profile, so familiar and strangely comforting, she felt her heart break a little bit more for a man who'd lost everything dear to him, who was so sad and bitter and hard to unravel . then, a slight disgust with herself for so willingly slipping back into the role that she so loathed: the comforter, the sympathizer, the strong one .
"Hello Robert." Voice impassive, tone brisk; betraying nothing.
"Lizzie!" The man turned to face her, equal parts surprised and pleased, a wide grin lighting up his usually stoic features.
Elizabeth took immediate note of his change of dress and appearance. Gone were the crisp dress shirts or blue scrubs, now replaced by a white linen button-down and faded jeans. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing the shiny, flesh-coloured plastic of Robert's new prosthetic. Papers and folders lay scattered about his makeshift ER office; books strewn haphazardly across his desk, along with sandwich wrappers and coffee cups. It seemed so careless, so casual . so un-Robert. And - "You grew a beard," Elizabeth blurted suddenly, too shocked by the strangeness of the situation to say anything else.
Romano laughed, rubbing self-consciously at the red-gray stubble. "I would hardly call this a beard, Elizabeth," he teased, mock-insulted. "Maybe just getting lazy with the razor. It's a little harder with only one arm."
'Of course', Elizabeth sighed inwardly. 'It always comes back to that, doesn't it . When will you realize that losing an arm doesn't make you any less of a person, Robert?' To him, compassion evident in her tone: "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he shrugged. "Better. Been busy?"
Elizabeth stared at him, perplexed. "Busy?" she questioned. "What do you mean?"
Something in his voice changed, his face falling slightly. Disappointment and the slightest glimmer of hurt shone brightly in his eyes. "I just thought that, uh, you would have checked sooner. Out of curiosity, of course. Not that I expect you to check up on me, but, I figured ." He trailed off into awkward silence, staring intensely at his feet.
"Robert," she sighed, mentally cringing at the impatient sound in her words. She was thrown off-balance by this new Romano, one who seemed so nervous, so uncertain, so wounded . "I have been busy. With Ella, covering your load in surgery . "
"It's been two weeks, Elizabeth."
His voice was quiet, almost meek. It wasn't an accusation; just the truth. And he wasn't angry . he was hurt. It suddenly dawned on her just how much their friendship had evolved.
Over the past year, Robert had relied on her more and more for support: someone to listen, offer advice, even sympathize. The new ER Chief, in turn, brought humour, warmth and some definite colour to her days at County. He wasn't the Boss-from-Hell or simply a surgical colleague anymore . he was a friend, a good friend . but that ever-growing, ever-evolving relationship was exactly the reason she had betrayed their bond in the first place.
His anesthesia-induced confession had echoed through her mind for days, forcing her to do what she did best . run. Run like she had from Peter when things got too intense. Like she had from Mark when the going got tough. Like she had from her life in Chicago after her husband died .
"Feels like you've been trying to avoid me," Romano muttered, half-joking. Off Elizabeth's uncertain gaze, he added, "Or you have been trying to avoid me, and I'm just an idiot."
"I haven't been avoiding you, Robert," she responded defensively. "I came to see you in Recovery, though you weren't in the best shape to enjoy my visits. I wanted . I wanted to see you after, but ."
"But what, Lizzie?" he demanded arrogantly. "Too busy with our resident surgeon heartthrob? Or maybe this-", gesturing violently to the remains of his arm and its' new plastic extension, "this freak show just scared you."
"Oh, give me more credit than that!" Elizabeth snapped back, irate. "I don't care if you've got one arm or six legs!" Romano had to smile a little at that. "I'm not going to keep away just because you've lost a limb; your ER tirades are far more distressing than any amputation. And what the hell does Eddie have to do with any of this?"
"Ooh first name basis," Robert mocked, collecting some files from his desk. A bit of their previous, light-hearted camaraderie had returned and Romano felt safe that their moment of tension had passed. "How intimate. Do invite me to the wedding."
"Good Lord Robert, I haven't spoken to the man in weeks, and while I'll admit I do find him . attractive--"
"He doesn't have my devastating good looks and rugged charm?"
His teasing was met first by an incredulous glare, then the look softened into a sardonic smile. "You're far more arrogant than any short, bald man has the right to be," Corday retorted smoothly, crossing her arms.
"Touche, Lizzie," Romano smirked, tipping an invisible hat towards her, still pilling documents into a briefcase. "So did you actually stop by to see how I was doing, or just to engage in some witty banter?"
"You've got a visitor waiting in Chairs. From out-of-town."
"Oh yeah?" Robert glanced up, curious. "Who?"
"Your sister, Francesca."
"Francesca?" he repeated disbelievingly, after a moment of stunned silence. Once recovering his bearings, Romano strode towards the door. "What the hell is she doing here?"
"Maybe she's here because her brother just went through a rather difficult surgery . ?" Elizabeth suggested, following him into the ER hallway.
Robert barked a short, dubious laugh. "Riiight. My family's not like that, Lizzie. We're not into the whole cuddly, 'support and emotional comfort' thing."
"No . you're not like that."
He paused his brisk pace for a second, eyeing the British surgeon suspiciously. His jaw clenched in irritation, tone once again cold. "What are you saying, Elizabeth?"
Corday sighed, praying she got her next words right. She wanted to support Robert, but was she really willing to give such a large part of herself to this suffering man, this Mark the sequel? "I'm saying that your sister wants to help," she intoned cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "I want to help too, but you've got to let us. I'm sorry I didn't visit sooner, and that I wasn't there for you in recovery . again. But I'm going to be there every step of the way, from now on."
Romano's gaze wandered from the feminine hand resting on his arm to the tender, yet determined half-smile on Elizabeth's face. "I have to go see my sister," he muttered, feeling very much like a flustered schoolboy, skin tingling from her cool touch. "I'll . ahhhh, yeah .later ." His words dissipated into a rushed splutter as he hurried away.
Corday stared after him for a moment, pondering the man who had just left her presence. He was so much more vulnerable, more naked; his heart practically on his sleeve ... none of the cold posturing or sharp retorts he was famous for. Elizabeth just shook her head, and walked towards the elevator. Things were finally back to normal with Robert . well, as normal as it ever came with him. His confession of love still rattled through her brain, but for now she simply had to be his friend . and worry about the rest of it later.
DISCLAIMER: Francesca is mine, and I claim her selfishly . everyone else is the story belongs to . uh, not me.
RATING: A safe PG-13, for mild swearing.
SPOILERS: Everything up to and including Season Nine, so if you had no idea that Romano's lost his arm for good and revealed his unrequited love for Lizzie, then, uh, surprise! . and since all the spoilers for Season Ten somehow revolve around the horror that is Carby (*shudder*), I'm not using anything that's not from my twisted imagination.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: 'Bulletproof' is a wonderful song by the kick-ass Canadian band, Blue Rodeo (give it a listen!!!). Also, I want to give all those incredibly gifted Romano writers much credit for this story . it was jointly inspired by many great stories posted on ff.net and also some of the Rocket-centric ideas being thrown around on the Television Without Pity message boards, so thanks to everyone who inadvertently helped to create this humble piece of fanfiction.
***************************
Tell me one more time again just like I didn't hear you
Like I don't know what's going through your mind, I do
I play the same game too
I know it's hard to stop
Even when you want to
Now the moon lights up your face and I can see you're crying
You never liked me to see you cry, it's true
I've done some crying too
You know, the hardest part about it
Is trying to hide it from you
It would be great to be so strong
I never needed anybody's help to get along
But we're so scared of the silence and the tricks that we use
Oh, we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't want to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof
Well I finally found the way to hide from all your glances
Til the waiting game we play is through
I can, but what's the use
When all I really want to do is hide out with you?
It would be great to be so strong
You never needed anybody's help to get along
We're so scared of the silence and the language that we use
Yeah we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't wanna kid about it, I'm not bulletproof
Tell me one more time again I guess I didn't hear you
And I don't know all the secrets that you keep inside
I tried the same thing too
But they all come pouring out of me when I'm talking to you
It would be great to be so strong
You never needed anybody else's help to carry on
But I'm not waking up each morning with forgiveness I can use
No I'm careless and I'm cruel, but I'm still easily bruised
But I'm so tired of lying about it, I'm not bulletproof
No, and I'm not going to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof
*****************************
'Sometimes', Dr. Elizabeth Corday grumbled inwardly, 'I really, really hate this job.'
This morning was one of those moments when County seemed like the ninth circle of Hell. The patients were far more noisy and demanding, the doctors all seemed arrogant or incompetent, the hustle and bustle that usually set Elizabeth's blood on fire was too panicked, too rushed and severely irritating. On days like these, she preferred to hide out in the surgeons' lounge and bury herself in paperwork, blowing off a little steam. Today, however, it seemed she would not be afforded that pleasure. After a long, sleepless night with a very cranky and very feverish Ella, Elizabeth, who had spent the past twelve hours curled up in a stiff rocking chair, attempting to soothe her crying daughter, had been called in, ruining the first official day off she'd had in weeks. Within the first two hours of this surprise, early morning shift, Dr. Corday had already been called down to the ER for five surgical consults, was scheduled for a bowel reconstruction later that afternoon and had been forced to break the news to concerned parents that their son's brain tumour surgery would be highly dangerous and potentially fatal.
It was only eight am, but already Elizabeth felt weary, totally exhausted. The thought of stretching out on one of the leather couches in the lounge and catching a quick nap was an extremely appealing one. She made a beeline for the elevator, hoping to duck by any of the attendings who would request another consult.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a younger woman milling about the Admittance desk, looking very much out of place. As this wasn't an exceptional occurrence around the ER, what with the frazzled family members and worried potential patients, Elizabeth was not at all surprised by her presence. What did surprise Dr. Corday though, was when the woman flagged her down.
"Hi there, sorry to bother you," the stranger called out, approaching Elizabeth at a quick pace. Elizabeth gazed around, looking for the individual whom this woman was addressing, then realizing with mild surprise that it was her. "I know this is a big hospital, but do you, by any chance, know Dr. Robert Romano? I asked one of the clerks, but he told me "to follow the screams of pain" to the "Dark Lord", so .I'm a bit lost." She offered an apologetic smile.
Elizabeth returned one in kind. The woman was a little shorter and of slender build; her light auburn hair was fashionably straightened and fell about her shoulders like a shining orange halo. She possessed well-chiseled features that were both stunning and delicate: strong jaw line, prominent cheekbones and brow, smooth, pale skin peppered with freckles and a pair of deep-set, dark brown eyes so intense they almost looked . familiar.
"Why yes, I do," she responded pleasantly. "And I must apologize about the clerking staff. They've had some . past qualms, with our ER Chief." She extended her hand. "I'm Dr. Corday, by the way."
The other woman shook it heartily. "Francesca Romano."
Elizabeth was quite visibly taken aback. "Romano," she repeated incredulously, her mind furiously skimming any kind of family background that he'd offered in the past, memories producing some vague references to his mother and a niece. "I assume that Robert's a relation?"
"My older brother, actually." Off Corday's look of surprise, Francesca added knowingly, "He doesn't like to talk about the family ... or much of anything else that personally relates to him, for that matter." Her tone was light and joking, but tinged with that trademark Romano sarcasm that Elizabeth was beginning to think must run in their genes.
"No, he hadn't really made any mention of a sister ."
"Well, that's typical. He didn't even bother informing his own mother about the severed arm until five weeks after the fact. Me and the twins didn't find out until a couple months ago." Francesca rolled her eyes and sighed deeply, her affectionate annoyance quite obvious. "I practically had to do recon to find out his surgery was two weeks ago, and I got here as soon as I could . but he still doesn't know I'm in town."
"He wasn't at home?"
Francesca shook her head. "No, I tried there earlier this afternoon. Figured he'd probably be here instead; even a medical leave couldn't keep Robert away from this hospital."
"Raging lions couldn't keep Robert away from here, as much as he'd refuse to admit it," Dr. Corday admonished, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Actually, he's probably in his office, if in the building at all." Another surge of guilt as images of the amputation came flooding back: the whirring noise of the bone saw, the pale, broken figure laying still on the gurney, his mumbled, sleepy tone . "Still trying to keep a low profile, I imagine."
('I love you, Elizabeth.')
"Have you seen him?" Francesca questioned. "Is he . doing alright?"
Elizabeth looked away, remorse still swelling within her. He hadn't called or contacted her in any way, but that was Robert . unwilling to divulge his weakness, his humanity; Elizabeth knew, had inwardly admitted days ago, that he would have wanted to see her. "I, ah, visited him in Recovery, but I haven't seen him since he was discharged, no," she stammered, a thousand excuses on the tip of her tongue. (-Too busy, Ella, Acting Chief of Surgery, med. students-) "He's doing well with the prosthetic, I believe."
(-Too scared.-)
Elizabeth continued to blush under Francesca's intense gaze, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu rising in her bones. The dark eyes searched her features with the same penetrating quality of Robert's stare, as if trying to read her soul. She felt . naked . under that fiery look, as if all her secrets were laid bare.
Francesca nodded slowly. "Good. I'd still like to see for myself, though. Could you point me in the direction of his office?"
Elizabeth, having regained some of her composure and all of her pride, smiled again, though this time the expression was slightly forced. "I'll do you one better; I'll fetch him myself. Just have a seat in the reception area and I promise, he'll be here soon."
The younger woman simply beamed at the promise of her older sibling. "Great! That's perfect! Thank you so much for all your help, Dr. Corday. Robert's lucky to work with people like you."
"It was my pleasure. Nice to finally meet some of Robert's family."
They shook hands again and parted ways; Elizabeth towards Dr. Romano's temporary ER office, and Francesca towards the sea of plastic chairs. Corday let the pandemonium of the emergency room flow by her; the elegant, calculated rhythm of chaos which thrived in the hospital. Abby and Chuny raced by, flocking to a newly-arrived gurney and bloodied patient, the paramedics shouting stats and medical history. Susan and Carter treated victims of a minor car accident in Exam One, bustling around the room with same seamless, practiced precision that every ER doctor at County possessed. The beauty of this controlled chaos, this deliberate anarchy never failed to impress Elizabeth, who took a moment to admire her workplace as Gallant loped past her in a flurry of white and green. But this welcome distraction was soon over and the British surgeon quickened her pace, and her breathing, as she approached Dr. Romano's office.
'Just act normal . everything's perfectly alright; it's simply Robert .that "loathsome toad", remember? Just Robert .'
(. the man who confessed his love for you two weeks ago .)
Appalled to find herself blushing, Elizabeth inhaled deeply and stepped into the room. (-Ah, bollocks. He was so damn sedated, he probably doesn't even remember .and even if he does, it's not like it matters. Patients say all sorts of nonsense while under anesthesia .and since it's just Robert, it's not to be taken seriously, right?-)
(-Right?-)
She turned the corner and stepped into the darkened room. At the sight of his short, slim profile, so familiar and strangely comforting, she felt her heart break a little bit more for a man who'd lost everything dear to him, who was so sad and bitter and hard to unravel . then, a slight disgust with herself for so willingly slipping back into the role that she so loathed: the comforter, the sympathizer, the strong one .
"Hello Robert." Voice impassive, tone brisk; betraying nothing.
"Lizzie!" The man turned to face her, equal parts surprised and pleased, a wide grin lighting up his usually stoic features.
Elizabeth took immediate note of his change of dress and appearance. Gone were the crisp dress shirts or blue scrubs, now replaced by a white linen button-down and faded jeans. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing the shiny, flesh-coloured plastic of Robert's new prosthetic. Papers and folders lay scattered about his makeshift ER office; books strewn haphazardly across his desk, along with sandwich wrappers and coffee cups. It seemed so careless, so casual . so un-Robert. And - "You grew a beard," Elizabeth blurted suddenly, too shocked by the strangeness of the situation to say anything else.
Romano laughed, rubbing self-consciously at the red-gray stubble. "I would hardly call this a beard, Elizabeth," he teased, mock-insulted. "Maybe just getting lazy with the razor. It's a little harder with only one arm."
'Of course', Elizabeth sighed inwardly. 'It always comes back to that, doesn't it . When will you realize that losing an arm doesn't make you any less of a person, Robert?' To him, compassion evident in her tone: "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he shrugged. "Better. Been busy?"
Elizabeth stared at him, perplexed. "Busy?" she questioned. "What do you mean?"
Something in his voice changed, his face falling slightly. Disappointment and the slightest glimmer of hurt shone brightly in his eyes. "I just thought that, uh, you would have checked sooner. Out of curiosity, of course. Not that I expect you to check up on me, but, I figured ." He trailed off into awkward silence, staring intensely at his feet.
"Robert," she sighed, mentally cringing at the impatient sound in her words. She was thrown off-balance by this new Romano, one who seemed so nervous, so uncertain, so wounded . "I have been busy. With Ella, covering your load in surgery . "
"It's been two weeks, Elizabeth."
His voice was quiet, almost meek. It wasn't an accusation; just the truth. And he wasn't angry . he was hurt. It suddenly dawned on her just how much their friendship had evolved.
Over the past year, Robert had relied on her more and more for support: someone to listen, offer advice, even sympathize. The new ER Chief, in turn, brought humour, warmth and some definite colour to her days at County. He wasn't the Boss-from-Hell or simply a surgical colleague anymore . he was a friend, a good friend . but that ever-growing, ever-evolving relationship was exactly the reason she had betrayed their bond in the first place.
His anesthesia-induced confession had echoed through her mind for days, forcing her to do what she did best . run. Run like she had from Peter when things got too intense. Like she had from Mark when the going got tough. Like she had from her life in Chicago after her husband died .
"Feels like you've been trying to avoid me," Romano muttered, half-joking. Off Elizabeth's uncertain gaze, he added, "Or you have been trying to avoid me, and I'm just an idiot."
"I haven't been avoiding you, Robert," she responded defensively. "I came to see you in Recovery, though you weren't in the best shape to enjoy my visits. I wanted . I wanted to see you after, but ."
"But what, Lizzie?" he demanded arrogantly. "Too busy with our resident surgeon heartthrob? Or maybe this-", gesturing violently to the remains of his arm and its' new plastic extension, "this freak show just scared you."
"Oh, give me more credit than that!" Elizabeth snapped back, irate. "I don't care if you've got one arm or six legs!" Romano had to smile a little at that. "I'm not going to keep away just because you've lost a limb; your ER tirades are far more distressing than any amputation. And what the hell does Eddie have to do with any of this?"
"Ooh first name basis," Robert mocked, collecting some files from his desk. A bit of their previous, light-hearted camaraderie had returned and Romano felt safe that their moment of tension had passed. "How intimate. Do invite me to the wedding."
"Good Lord Robert, I haven't spoken to the man in weeks, and while I'll admit I do find him . attractive--"
"He doesn't have my devastating good looks and rugged charm?"
His teasing was met first by an incredulous glare, then the look softened into a sardonic smile. "You're far more arrogant than any short, bald man has the right to be," Corday retorted smoothly, crossing her arms.
"Touche, Lizzie," Romano smirked, tipping an invisible hat towards her, still pilling documents into a briefcase. "So did you actually stop by to see how I was doing, or just to engage in some witty banter?"
"You've got a visitor waiting in Chairs. From out-of-town."
"Oh yeah?" Robert glanced up, curious. "Who?"
"Your sister, Francesca."
"Francesca?" he repeated disbelievingly, after a moment of stunned silence. Once recovering his bearings, Romano strode towards the door. "What the hell is she doing here?"
"Maybe she's here because her brother just went through a rather difficult surgery . ?" Elizabeth suggested, following him into the ER hallway.
Robert barked a short, dubious laugh. "Riiight. My family's not like that, Lizzie. We're not into the whole cuddly, 'support and emotional comfort' thing."
"No . you're not like that."
He paused his brisk pace for a second, eyeing the British surgeon suspiciously. His jaw clenched in irritation, tone once again cold. "What are you saying, Elizabeth?"
Corday sighed, praying she got her next words right. She wanted to support Robert, but was she really willing to give such a large part of herself to this suffering man, this Mark the sequel? "I'm saying that your sister wants to help," she intoned cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "I want to help too, but you've got to let us. I'm sorry I didn't visit sooner, and that I wasn't there for you in recovery . again. But I'm going to be there every step of the way, from now on."
Romano's gaze wandered from the feminine hand resting on his arm to the tender, yet determined half-smile on Elizabeth's face. "I have to go see my sister," he muttered, feeling very much like a flustered schoolboy, skin tingling from her cool touch. "I'll . ahhhh, yeah .later ." His words dissipated into a rushed splutter as he hurried away.
Corday stared after him for a moment, pondering the man who had just left her presence. He was so much more vulnerable, more naked; his heart practically on his sleeve ... none of the cold posturing or sharp retorts he was famous for. Elizabeth just shook her head, and walked towards the elevator. Things were finally back to normal with Robert . well, as normal as it ever came with him. His confession of love still rattled through her brain, but for now she simply had to be his friend . and worry about the rest of it later.