Title: In From the Cold
Author: littlemisswriter
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!
Feedback: theallknowingonehotmail.com
Update: Changes to chapter 11, cause in all honesty, it sucked to start with! Next chapter up soon. Season 10 just finished across here, I have to admit I missed a lot of it with Uni and stuff. And I'm just simply not acknowledging what they did to Robert!
Chapter 11
Time stood still. Something Elizabeth had never experienced. To her it had always been an awful cliché, something people said without thinking, a pointless exaggeration, for time could never truly stand still. When one was enjoying themselves it seemed to fly by, in the middle of a twelve-hour shift, it seemed to drag its heel reluctantly, but really, it always moved at the same time, the only thing that changed was a person's perception.
Not this time. Now, for her, time had truly stopped . The noises of the crowded corridor, the sounds of the staff, patients and machines, died down to a steady hum, barely registering in Elizabeth's mind. The people and objects around her seemed to just fade away, apart from one.
Roberts face registered pure shock, his eyes glazed, his face grey. Elizabeth could not even begin to comprehend what he was feeling, what he was thinking. What was behind the initial shock? Anger? Hatred? Fear? She reached out for his hand, to give it a reassuring squeeze, to try and say that it was going to be alright, whatever alright was in the circumstances, if –
"Dr Corday, stats are dropping, he needs to go up now." Carter was looking at her, everybody had heard Franks announcement, and Carter and the nurses were more than capable of working out who the man in the gurney really was. The nurses were looking at Romano with a mixture of shock and pity, but Carters eyes held something different, something Elizabeth couldn't quite decipher, and now she didn't have the time.
Pull yourself together Elizabeth. "Right, we're going up." she turned to Robert, "Robert we've got to go, I – "
"Dr Romano you're needed in OR four now, the little girls in a bad way." Frank called out.
"Robert – "
"Dr Corday, stats still dropping, we've got to go now."
"Tell them I'm on my way Frank."
"Robert, I – "
She turned back to Robert, but he was gone, lost in a sea of white coats and blue scrubs.
"That's it. All done. David would you like to close up? He seems to have come through it nicely. With a little luck in post-op recovery, he should recover reasonably well."
Elizabeth looked down at their patient, no, not just any patient, but Robert's father. Robert who was her, well, what he was exactly was uncertain at this point, more than a friend certainly, but so much more so that he could be called a lover, her lover? Perhaps, perhaps not. And now his father lay in front of her in the OR. She felt torn. On one hand, this was he man who had abused Robert, wrongly blamed him for his brother's death, offered no support, mocked his dreams and aspirations. And she could not help but feel, that somehow, he had received no more than he deserved. She could not bring herself to pity him. Yet, he was her patient. And as such, she had a duty to care for him, despite her own personal feelings. It was the same for all of her patients, the drunks, the drug addicts, the rapists, the murders. She treated them all, at least she tried to, with respect and kindness. Of course, some were more trying than others, some did not deserve her help or her sympathy, but that was not the issue. As a doctor she was bound to heal the sick and wounded, and her first loyalty was always to her patients, well, almost always.
The procedure had gone well, despite having no senior surgeon present, although it had lasted perhaps a little longer than Elizabeth would have liked. She wondered if Robert was still in OR four with thee little girl. Yet another victim of his father.
Elizabeth's OR team had responded well, asking no questions when they had read the name on the chart, or noticed the rather striking resemblance, that now seemed to be obvious, to their chief of staff. As she turned to leave to scrub out, Shirley's voice called out to her "Give Dr Romano our best." Elizabeth could detect no hint of sarcasm or irony, and given Shirley's turbulent relationship with Robert, even more so than her own, she could not help but smile gratefully.
Soaping her hands and then rinsing them, Elizabeth found herself questioning, how many times the, now helpless man in the OR, had washed the blood of his son from his own hands. How had he felt? Had be been so drunk that even the slightest strain of guilt had not penetrated his mind? After hearing Roberts story, the man could not be seen to be anything but a monster. Yet, now, he appeared before her as a frail and helpless old man, one that could possibly never completely recover from his accident. For the present moment at least, he appeared human
She had now idea how Robert would react to the events of the last few hours. He had surely put two and two together, to realise that his father had been travelling to visit him when he had ploughed into the woman's car. He had been drunk, so drunk that he couldn't keep his car in a straight line. Why had he been drinking? To build up some Dutch courage before apologising to his son? No, that didn't seem entirely plausible. So that he could assault his son again without having to remember it the next day? Or without being plagued by guilt? That sounded more likely. Her mind could barely make sense of the events of the last few days, from blissful happiness, to utter horror. Would Robert close himself off from her again? Or would he accept her help? She wasn't even sure how she could help. What was the right thing to say in such a situation?
She reached Roberts office, still lost in thought, and drew herself up in front of his door. Deep breath. Well, this is it.
She knocked lightly on the door. No response. She knocked again and paused, thinking. Perhaps he was still in the OR, the operation for the young girl could have taken a turn for the worse. Dammit, why didn't she check at admit? Perhaps he needed a helping hand, considering they were so short staffed during the festive season. Cursing under her breath, she turned to leave.
"Come in."
The voice was so quiet, so weary, that she nearly missed it. Hesitating for only a second, she walked into his office.
Robert sat behind his desk, still in his scrubs, bloodstained, head bowed, writing slowly on what appeared to be the first sheet on a small mountain of papers. He looked up. "Hello Elizabeth."
Elizabeth. Not Lizzie.
"Robert." He looked like hell. His face was still ashen, dark circles under his eyes, striking a harsh contrast. She closed the door behind her, and waited for him to say something, something to help her determine the course of the conversation, which line to take.
Silence.
It stretched before her, creating a vast chasm between them, one which she had no idea how to cross. What to say? Should she tell him the details of the operation? Say that his father was alive and well? Would he even want to know? Should she ask how the little –
" – She's dead."
TBC.
Well, I hope that's a slight improvement! Feedback to theallknowingonehotmail.com (new address cause my other one is now getting constantly spammed!)