Title: In From the Cold
Author: little_miss_writer
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing unfortunately. Elizabeth Corday, Robert "Rocket" Romano (Warner Bros, Michael Crichton and a variety of other lucky, lucky people. I wish I did own them, but I don't. This is a work of fiction so nobody get upset ok?
Notes: A few things to know. In this story Elizabeth is not involved with Mark, so no marriage and no Ella. Takes place sometime before "Lockdown". It's just a nice little piece about Romano and Corday's friendship. I have read the season nine spoilers (I wish I hadn't!), but nothing is given away here at all, so its entirely safe. Also I'm British and so is my spelling, you have been warned!
Hey people. I'm so pleased so many people have supported me through this fic, it really means a lot to me. I'm going to try to update more often now, since it's nearly Christmas, maybe I can get everything finished by then. But I guess some things never go too smoothly….is that a hint of things to come?? Maybe! Please r/r!
Chapter 8
"Not for a second," she repeated, her voice low, straining with emotion. His pain touched her, and the emotions welled, fighting for dominance. She couldn't describe how she felt, couldn't separate her feelings. Anger. Anger that he had not been helped, at his father, at his mother, at those who judged him without knowing his past. Sympathy. She felt so sorry for him, for not having a family that loved him, for not being able to look back on his childhood with pleasure, for not every having the confidence or the ability to make friends. Pride. Proud of him. For standing up to his father, for putting himself through med school, pride and amazement in his ability to survive. But there was a difference between living and surviving, he had survived, but had he ever truly lived? Lived with somebody who loved him, whom he loved? Visited the places he wanted to go, done the things he wanted to do, made friendships that would last for life, bought something ridiculous just for the sake of it? Just some of the things that made life worth living.
Her hand drifted up to caress his cheek, and it was then she noticed the thin film of moisture coating his eyes. She felt him lean into the touch, the slight stubble scraping against her skin, saw his eyes flutter shut, content. He looked like a different person when he was relaxed. The lines left his face, he looked younger, almost boyish. Elizabeth wished that he would look like that more often, when the memories of the past, the stress and problems of the present did not cloud his features. And when he laughed, his face lit up, eyes dancing, shining brightly, she didn't see it often, she hoped to be able to see more. How she wished she could have seen him as a young resident, eager to please, desperate to help those who so dearly needed aid. So young, so brave, so compassionate. No, it did not surprise her in the least for him to compare himself to Carter. She could see the links in their lives, the pain and torment they'd been through, the fact they still cared more for the lives of others that themselves. But Carter had had help and support in his time of need, who had helped Robert? Carter was a symbol of hope to Elizabeth, she respected him, knew that, despite his years, live had thrown more than his fair share of pain at him, but he had persevered, he had succeeded.
When his eyes reopened, the unshed tears had vanished, to be spent another day, someday soon, or in the distant future, either way, she wanted to be there, to comfort him, to help him. She knew that crying was sometimes the only way to finally let go, to stop clinging on to the past, she had done it herself many times over the years. But no, the tears in his eyes had gone, replaced instead, by the usual glint, the sparkle, along with his customary half smile.
"And I was twice as cute."
Elizabeth laughed, his ability to find humour in any situation had fascinated her during their first tension filled surgeries together, she was sure, no matter how long she knew him, it would never cease to amaze her, "Now that I have some trouble believing."
Robert's eyebrows headed skyward, "You don't think I was cute? Y'hear that Gretyl? Elizabeth here doesn't know how devilishly cute I was, I think you're back to being my favourite girl. Gretyl? Sheeshd, you'd think she had been up all night or something?" That smile again, suggestive, echoed in the sparkle of his eyes.
"Now I never said that you weren't cute. I merely said that I have a little trouble believing you were twice as cute as Carter."
"Oh really? So I have some competition do I?" He was only joking of course, she knew that, they were just sparring, as usual. But she was struck by a sudden urge to tell him the truth. To tell him the few short days they had spent together, had been like no others. Spending time with him was something she would never tire of, something that she never wanted to end. She loved him, loved his touch, his voice, the way they felt together. .But what about him? He trusted her in a way he trusted no other, he showed a side of himself, a vulnerable, secret side. She thought he loved her, hoped he did. But would he be able to say it? Did he want to say it?
"Maybe," Oh well, so much for speaking your mind.
"Mmmmm," he regarded her for a moment, and she could see something he was thinking. Then swiftly rolled, digging his fingers into her ribs. Elizabeth squealed, lashing out with her legs, covers flying, narrowly missing Gretyl, who, most upset by her awakening, jumped off the bed and padded out the room. Desperately Elizabeth tried to get some hold of Robert, but he remained infuriatingly out of reach, tickling her maddeningly.
"Robert – oh, stop it-it Robert!"
He shook his head, while his fingers ran over her body, taunting and teasing her, "Nope. Come on, whose cuter?"
"I-I-I'm not saying." But she knew her voice didn't sound convincing, she could hardly speak through the giggles, could barely breath. After one night he knew her body so well, knew how to coax different reactions out of her, but then of course, he had the hands of a surgeon.
"Come on now," his voice was light and teasing, the amusement glinting in his eyes.
An idea came to her suddenly, amidst the giggling and threat of tears. She could beat him at his own game, all it would take would be a bit of persuasion. Feminen charms, if she possessed any. She motioned to him to move closer, "I'll only whisper it," she tried to make her voice low and inviting.
Grinning, Robert obliged, leaning in close to her, tickling momentarily abandoned, "Uh huh?"
"Well, I think – " Elizabeth reached out quickly, aiming for Roberts ribs, but his hands caught hers easily, securing them in a sure grip.
"You think I'm that easily fooled Lizzie? I would have thought you know better by now." With a swift move he straddled her, pinning her arms above her head with one hand, the other gently tracing circles on her stomach. "Obviously you don't pay any attention to me at all."
Elizabeth felt her skin tingle, almost burn under his touch, adrenaline flooding through her body. But she wasn't going to let him win that easily. Oh no. He move in towards her, when she grabbed him tight and rolled forcing them over, and over. Too far. She managed to stop but it was too late.
"Ow Jesus Christ Lizzie!" A minor miscalculation, she thought. Well, slightly more than that. Robert lay flat on his back on the floor, as she peered over the bed sheepishly. Her plan had worked, well if the bed had been wider.
"You need a bigger bed Robert."
"No I need to find somebody whose not a gymnast to share it with." She watched as Robert sat up somewhat gingerly, while tied up in the duvet and dressing gown.
"I'm hurt by that Robert."
"Yeah? Well so am I. Literally."
Elizabeth laughed, enjoying the moment. It was amazing how quickly the mood could change with Robert. He was a far more emotional man than most people realised.
He looked up at her from his landing spot. "Well I s'pose we should get up anyway, although I would have preferred a less energetic or painful approach."
He stood up, fixing his dressing gown, while she scrambled out of bed, wrapping the duvet around herself.
"Very Julius Ceaser Lizzie, but maybe you'd prefer one of my larger gowns?" She waited as he rummaged around in a few drawers, before throwing a dark blue robe at her. "There you go."
"Thank you Robert." She looked at the dressing gown, it might just come past her knees.
"I'll go make some coffee."
Elizabeth took a more detailed look at the room while she dressed. Very Spartan. No family photographs, well she knew the reason now, very little by way of personalisation, much like the rest of the house. It was nice to look at. But a little cold, emotionless, empty even.
She was half way down the stairs, in what had turned out to be, a ridiculously short gown, when the phone rang. She thought nothing of it until Robert's tone changed dramatically.
"Hello?" that was fine, fairly cheerful, maybe a little annoyed at being disturbed on Christmas, but apart from that.
Flat, any emotion drained. "Oh. Yes. Merry Christmas. No, not working for a few days. Uh huh. Yeah? What is it? Sorry? He wants what? Well it's a bit late. No, no way. How can you even – "
She mentally kicked herself when Robert glanced up, to see her hovering at the top of the first flight of stairs.
"Look I've got to go mom. Merry Christmas."
He put the phone down, not even glancing at her, then turned back to making the coffee. Elizabeth managed to make her way down the rest of the stairs, despite her mind spinning. His mother had phoned him. Who had they been talking about? What did this other person want?
"Milk, sugar?"
Well he obviously didn't want to talk about it, or even acknowledged it had happened. But she could see the way his knuckles whitened around the mug, the way he avoided her eyes.
"Milk no sugar."
Silence. While the kettle boiled there was not another sound in the house, save for their breathing. The tension seemed to suddenly have come from nowhere. Neither spoke, neither made eye contact. The kettle seemed to be taking an age. Finally Robert looked to her. "You wanna go for a walk?"
That wasn't what she had expected, "Now? I don't have anything to wear."
"We can stop at your house."
"Ok." A walk? A walk where?
Shortly she sat in Robert's car, dressed in her outfit from the night before, Gretyl napping in the back seat. Robert wasn't talking. In fact since they had left the house he hadn't said a word, except to ask for directions to her apartment. And the confusion about the phone call, which had previously been clogging her mind, had been replace by a more worrying matter. Where were they going? And what if somebody from County was to see them? What would they say? What would Robert want to say? When she was with Robert, in his house, she had wanted to cry her love from the roof tops. But now? How would people react at County? Weaver, Benton, Anspaugh? Gossip spread like wildfire in a hospital, and Count was no different. And what of their careers? Romano's track record with woman working for him would be enough to raise more than a few eyebrows about their relationship. Some may think that she was pressurised into such an arrangement, that she was hoping sleeping with the boss would help her career. Romantic relationships between colleges were generally frowned upon, especially if one of the people involved was in a high position, such as Chief of Staff.
Elizabeth knew it was something that had to be discussed. If they weren't seen today, then it would be the next day or the day after. And how were they supposed to behave at work? Pretend nothing was going on? Go through day after day with out talking to him, touching him, seeing him smile? She couldn't, if this was going to be the price of their relationship, Elizabeth wasn't sure she was willing to pay.
But Robert had said nothing. Was he even considering the complications of their relationship? He didn't even seem to notice she was there? His mind was on something else she was sure, but what was it?
She didn't notice the car had stopped.
"We're here Elizabeth."
Without a word she stepped out the car, her mind on autopilot. Just get changed and go for a walk, then he'll tell you, then he'll let you in.
She was changed within a few minutes, dressed in far warmer and more appropriate clothes. Wordlessly she slipped back into the car. Robert said nothing. And they were driving. Elizabeth stared out at the world from the leather coated interior of Robert's BMW. Children playing, people running for the Christmas sales, couples out walking in the light shower of snow. Despite this the roads were fairly quiet, and Robert guided the car through the snow stained streets. Finally they pulled up, at one of the smaller parks in Chicago. Everything was coated in a blanket of snow, several inches thick, undisturbed. A white winter paradise.
"My father wants to talk."
The words were so quiet, so low, she wasn't sure if he really had spoken. She waited for him to say more. Instead he got out the car, let Gretyl out of the back, and walked off, into the lightly falling snow.
Tbc
Usual message, please r/r, feedback to little_miss_writer@hotmail.com, keep those reviews coming in. It may be a little boring at the moment, but just be patient for a little while longer.