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!
Ok, so my "update more often" policy hasn't exactly worked very well. I assure you there are good reasons for my lack of updates, sorry. But it's nearly Christmas, so I'm sure you're all feeling generous enough to forgive me! Oh, in answer to one person's question: the Christmas sales start on Christmas day, sometimes before that where I live, trust me on Christmas day the shops can be packed, so that's why Robert and Elizabeth encountered Christmas shoppers during their drive (which was on Xmas day). Anyway, on with the story. (I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, so any constructive comments are welcome, as always)
Chapter 9
"Oh no you don't." Elizabeth felt a sudden, irrational wave of anger surge through her. Typical Robert Romano. Create a scene then disappear, leaving somebody else to pick up the pieces. How could he do that? Just drop a bombshell like that on her and then walk away? What was it exactly he expected her to do? Was she supposed to go after him, or just sit and wait like a good girl until he chose to return? Relationships were supposed to be about sharing problems, about listening to each other, letting each other in. But she was constantly pushing him, pressing for information, nothing was given with out her pressurising him in some way. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be. But at the same time she knew how difficult it had been for him, just revealing parts of his past with her. She was the only person he trusted, but that childish voice in the back of her mind plagued her. If he trusts you that much then he should be able to tell you everything. Why doesn't he? Why do you have to run around after him all the time?
"Oh bloody hell." Pulling on her gloves, she got out the car, bracing herself against the biting cold, teeth chattering as the cotton balls of snow slowly settled on her face, her hair, turning her from warm to shivering in an instant. But the bitter cold did nothing to cool her temper. She slammed the door, a little more strongly than necessary, and heard the noise of the impact echo in the otherwise deserted park. Peering through the white haze she could just make out his figure, a dark shadow in a white haven, staring out over the frozen lake, Gretyl sombre, sitting by her master's side. Feet sinking deeper into the snow with every step, she trudged over to him, cursing the Chicago weather under her breath. She came to a stop a few metres behind him.
"Robert?" He didn't acknowledge her, made no sign of having heard her, just continued to stare out into the snow covered world.
She could feel the anger flowing through her, rising to the surface, overwhelming her concern and curiosity. Just what the hell was she supposed to do, what was she supposed to say? He dragged her out here, on Christmas day for what exactly, to stand and stare at ice all day?
"Robert for god's sake will you just say something?"
The moment the words left her mouth she regretted them. She saw the way he reacted to the harsh tone of her voice, the way his body suddenly snapped, almost to attention. She heard him choke back a startle breath, or maybe it was a sob, and her heart wrenched.
"Robert, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout, I just want to help. But you're going to have to tell me what's happened."
Silence.
She was struggling to stay in control of her emotions. She was frustrated, curious and concerned all at the same time. Each fought for dominance. She wanted to help him, but how could she if he wouldn't speak to her? If he didn't let her in, then she couldn't help him. Even after unburdening so much of his past, he still didn't feel entirely comfortable. What did she have to do? But she knew that most of the anger was not directed at Robert, in truth it was directed at his father. He had caused Robert so much pain, why did he suddenly want to make contact now? Was it not bad enough to crush his spirit and his body year after year? Now he had to phone on Christmas day, bring back so many memories, brining with him the ghosts of Roberts past.
"He wants to talk." He didn't turn to face her, didn't even glance in her direction, his voice was low, monotone. "After all this time, he's decided that he wants to come round and sit down over lunch, chat about the ball game, share a few beers."
Elizabeth was split. On one hand she was amazed, after all this time Roberts father chose now to contact his son. She could hardly believe his nerve, the pure selfishness behind his decision, now he wanted to talk, he assumed Robert wanted the same. How dare he? To imagine he could just walk back into Roberts life without question. Yet on the other hand, she appreciated that time was precious, that life passed them all by far too quickly. Perhaps it was better that they resolved their problems, before the gap between them became too wide to bridge. The past could not have been easy on Roberts father, though she certainly didn't condone his actions, was in fact disgusted by them, she did understand that grief could sometimes push people to terrible acts. Robert could never truly forgive him, but surely a truce, of some description would be better than their current relationship.
"How do you feel about it?"
His voice was lower now, nearly a whisper, "How do I feel?" He whirled round to face her, "I don't have a god damn clue. No actually, scratch that, I do know how I feel. I wish he would die, I wish he would die and leave me the hell alone," he was shouting now, voice high and splitting, cutting through the calm of the park like a knife. "I want him to be in the same pain, feel the same terror that I did, have no one to turn to, nothing to do but suffer through and hope that someday help will come. That's how I feel, Elizabeth, I want him to die."
The pure venom in his voice, the hatred, almost frightened her. Robert's hot temper was practically a legend at County, he didn't think twice about dressing down a member of staff, or arguing with Weaver in full hearing of the other doctors and patients, but this was like nothing she had ever seen before. The pain and anguish seemed almost to radiate off of him. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles white, the blood seemed to have drained from his face, he looked ready to faint. But his eyes. They scared her. They were free of tears, but seemed almost to burn with hatred, with anger and with sincerity. He meant what he said and it scared her.
"Robert you're upset, do you really mean that?" Say no, deny it, please deny it.
"Yes." He stepped towards her suddenly, and she found herself stepping back, almost as though she had been struck. He must have seen the fear in her eyes, registered that he had caused it because he quickly withdrew. For the first time he looked scared, frightened by the emotions which had taken control of him. She watched as he fought for control, making an effort to calm himself, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "No, I-I-I don't know what I really mean."
"Robert I-"
"Could we just walk please?" His voice sounded strained.
"Alright."
They walked silently. Gretyl sensing their discontentment, padded behind them, head and tail hung as she followed. Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the snow, each lost in their own thoughts. Elizabeth ran over the events of the past few hours in her mind, and was again amazed by the sudden changes in mood, how one phone call could change a person so much. But what truly bothered her, was her reaction to his outburst. For an instant she had been scared of him, frightened that he would lash out. Could she continue to stand by somebody that she was frightened of? Would he ever hit her?
"Does it snow a lot in England?" His question disturbed her line of thought but she was relieved to hear that his voice seemed less strained, more relaxed.
"Not as a rule. But it generally depends where in England you are."
"D'you like it?"
"The snow? I don't know Robert, I've not really thought about it. As a child I like it, I liked the way it altered everything."
"How so?"
"Well it covers everything, forms a blanket. It changes the appearance, makes everything seem beautiful and clean – "
"Hides what you don't want to see you mean?"
"Only for a time. But when the snow goes everything is still there, just as it was, before the snow – "
Snow. It was cold, incredibly cold, numbing almost, she couldn't see, couldn't breath, it was so cold.
Robert's voice seemed awful far away, "Lizzie! Are you ok?"
She had tripped, and managed to find the largest possible snow drift to land in. She was partially buried, turning, she could just see Robert peering down at her.
Gingerly Elizabeth tested her arms and legs, "I'm fine, nothing hurt except my pride I think."
"Oh well, nothing serious then," He extended a hand, then suddenly retracted it. "Mmmmm now. Should I let you up, or you could stay there and admire the snow, since you like it."
"Robert Romano, you had better help me up right now or, or, or – "
"Or what Lizzie?" Robert peered down at her, smiling sweetly, the picture of innocence.
"Or I'll set Gretyl on you, us girls have to stick together."
Robert cast a glance over to Gretyl, who was engrossed in trying to dig herself a burrow in the snow. "I think you're on your own for this one Lizzie, but cause I'm such a kind and generous soul, I'll help you up. But none of that pulling me down there with you stuff ok?"
"Would I?
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
He offered his hand again, this time she took it, and was hauled to her feet. It wasn't much warmer on her feet, the snow was caked in her hair, and had slid down the back of her neck. If she wasn't careful, she'd be going into County tomorrow with one hell of a cold.
She suddenly caught Robert's eye, and he reached up, to brush a few clumps of snow out of her hair, and then gently brought his hand down to caress her cheek. She stood, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation, his warm skin a welcome contrast to the icy snow down her neck and back.
"I scared you didn't I?"
At that she felt her eyes snap open, to focus on his face. He held her gaze a little sadly, gently brushing her cheek. What was he talking about?
Seeing the need to clarify his question, "My earlier little…outburst," a wry smile, "I scared you didn't I?"
"No Robert of course – "
"Don't lie to me Elizabeth," Elizabeth, not Lizzie, he was deadly serious, "I saw it in your eyes. Did you think I was going to hit you?"
"No Robert, I know you'd never do that"
"Do you?"
Did she? Did she know for certain that he would never do anything like that? Victims of past abuse sometimes lashed out, years after the horrific events they had suffered through. The anger was almost always directed at whomever had caused their pain, but they rarely had access to these people. So they vented their frustrations on the nearest available person, often the very person trying to help. She had seen the anger in his eyes, not at her, but at his father for his abuse, at his mother for just standing by and watching it happen, at those at County who completely misjudged him. Anger could drive people to commit terrible acts. It could consume a person's soul. And Robert had plenty reasons to be angry. Despite her earlier moment of fear, something inside told her that Robert would never hit her. She didn't know what it was, or where it came from, but she was going to trust it.
"Yes."
He stared at her for a long while, studying her features, looking for any hint of doubt. She held his gaze, trying to convey her feelings, to tell him that she trusted him, that she loved him, that she would stand by him.
He broke eye contact, a mix of emotions running across his face which she couldn't interpret. "C'mon, better get you home, your out early tomorrow."
"You know what they say. No rest for the wicked."
Tbc
Hey
Blah, blah, blah. You all know what I'm going to say. Please r/r, comments to little_miss_writer@hotmail.com I'm sure you all know my address off by heart by now!! lol. Keep the reviews coming in.
Hope everybody has a happy holiday, nothing says Merry Christmas like a kind review!!
Lmw
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