About half-way through the episode "NICU" . . .
Robert Romano was standing near the elevator, feeling like a complete idiot. His shift had ended at six and his dinner plans with Elizabeth fell through when she was called in to surgery. But, then, another opportunity presented itself. In the weeks since Pratt's revelation, Robert had made a point of watching Morris closely in the hopes of observing something incriminating. So far, no luck. Apparently the little shit was being more careful. Now, however, Morris probably thought that Romano had left for the day. And he had gone up to the roof for his break, someplace his boss would be unlikely to venture even if he were still around. If ever there was a time to catch the pot-head in the act, this was it.
Unfortunately, the glitch in this plan was that it required Robert to actually go up to the roof. And that just wasn't happening. He was able to force himself to get on the elevator and press the appropriate button. But twice now he had chickened out, punching the button that would stop the elevator's ascent in the nick of time - his hand reaching out as if it had a will of its own. Then he would ride down a few floors, trying to re- group. Robert smirked with black humor, imagining his right hand saying, "Hell if I'm going up there - I saw what happened to the other guy!"
When he was in the elevator itself, Robert felt anxious. But as soon as he got out, he just felt stupid. He knew that, currently, there were no helicopters arriving or departing - he'd checked with the helipad controller. And even if one did show up, he would be able to hear it from inside the elevator and keep the doors closed. Rationally, he should be able to do this. Busting the wayward resident should be motivating enough. But apparently it wasn't.
As always, Robert found the senselessness of his fear infuriating. Other than this, he thought he was doing better than he had been. He couldn't say that he was happy, but he felt steadier, more functional. He had successfully weaned himself off the sleeping pills, finding he could now get a few hours of restless sleep without them almost as well as with them. 'I should tell Karl,' he thought, recalling the psychiatrist cautioning against long-term use of hypnotic drugs.
Thinking of De Raad caused a brief pang of guilt, as Robert had been ignoring the other man's inquiries and invitations. 'I can manage on my own now,' he told himself. He tried not to think of the deeper reason, but involuntarily he flashed back to the night he was sitting on his couch, trying to watch the game, feeling like the whole world was about to unravel. He didn't have a name for the emotion that gripped him, but it was overwhelmingly awful. And Karl . . . made it stop. He made him feel safe - just by talking to him. Robert was grateful, of course, but he was also profoundly unnerved at the experience of depending on another person to control what was going on inside his head.
'This whole "I can manage on my own" business would be a lot more plausible if I could make myself stay on the damn elevator!' Robert fumed. OK - one more time. He got on the elevator, which, thankfully, was empty. He forced himself to be still as the carriage, and the tension in his body, rose. But by the time he got within a couple of floors of the top, he could hear it in his mind - the thumping rotors, the screaming. His resolve broke. Without looking, he slapped the elevator buttons and bailed out at the next floor.
*****
Not even her meeting with the board of directors, simultaneously tense and tedious, could sour Kerry Weaver's mood today. She was having a baby. Well, not literally, but close enough. Actually, Sandy joked that Kerry was getting the better end of the deal - motherhood without morning sickness. Such jokes took on a slightly awkward tone, since they both knew that Kerry would give anything to be able to carry their child to term herself.
'Awkward' was a good way to describe Kerry's relationship with Sandy after her miscarriage. Sandy felt that Kerry was pressuring her to become pregnant; Kerry felt that if Sandy really cared about her she would be willing to at least consider bearing their child. For a while Kerry thought this conflict might break them. But somehow, it didn't. Whatever their differences, neither of them wanted to see it end.
So, Kerry started researching adoption, and was reassured by Sandy's enthusiastic support. And then, somewhere along the way, Sandy changed her mind and wanted to become pregnant. To this day, Kerry wasn't completely sure what caused the turn-around. The fact that Kerry stopped pushing her probably helped. Also, Sandy seemed touched by Kerry's reason for preferring her to have a baby rather than simply adopting: The child would have no genetic connection to Kerry either way - since Sandy was younger, her eggs would be more viable, and the sperm would come from a donor. But Kerry wanted her baby to be biologically part of somebody she loved - Sandy.
Whatever the motivation, Sandy was now, as she put it, "ready to pop." They had actually rushed in to the hospital last week, surreptitiously, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Now, walking from the meeting room back to her office, Kerry was almost dizzy with excitement and exhilaration. Nothing could dampen her spirits right now. Not even . . . 'Oh God, what does he want?'
Robert Romano stepped off the elevator maybe 10 feet in front of her. Kerry encountered Robert when she passed through the ER, and she saw him at the monthly Department Heads' meeting (when he showed up!) but it had been a while since he had come up to her office - let alone dropped in unannounced. A surprise visit from Romano . . . could that possibly mean anything good?
Getting over her initial misgivings, Kerry looked at Robert again. He seemed a bit shaken. Instead of walking toward the administrative offices, he turned around and stared at the elevator as the doors closed. Kerry, taking advantage of catching him unaware, asked, "Are you lost, or are you coming to see me?"
Robert turned around with a start. He noticed Kerry and replied, "What? . . . Uh, no, I wasn't coming to see you. I just . . . I, uh . . . wasn't . . ."
Kerry was both amused and concerned by Robert's uncharacteristic lack of articulation. She waited a moment to see if he would get his thoughts together. When that didn't seem to be happening, she decided to have mercy and give him an 'out'. She offered, "Well, as long as you're here, there are a couple of things we can discuss. Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," he nodded, and followed Kerry down the hall. They went into Kerry's office. He sat down across the desk from her.
Kerry attributed the absence of any biting comments about her décor to Robert's continued distraction. She wanted to ask him what was the matter, but she knew that would go over like a lead balloon with her prickly colleague. Instead, she opted for a more sarcastic approach: "The number of complaints about you has dwindled significantly in the last month. I take it that means you've bullied everybody into submission?"
"Yep. That's the plan," he retorted, then, cutting to the chase, he asked, "What's up?"
"Well, there's nothing urgent, but I wanted to let you know that we're sending Dr. Lewis to the Emergency Medicine conference in Sacramento next weekend."
"Does she know?" Robert inquired.
"Yes. She's whining about having to leave her dog."
Robert nodded and smiled a little.
Kerry continued, "The only other thing is the upcoming audit. Unfortunately, I don't have much new information about when that will happen. They say 'some time in the next two months.' They'll notify us the day before."
"Kerry, you can't let those guys push you around," Romano groused, seeming more like himself, "Tell 'em they need to give you 48 hours notice."
"They seem to be operating under the notion that giving us warning defeats the purpose of a surprise audit," she replied dryly.
"That's bullshit. They don't just want to unobtrusively peek at our books. They want things summarized and presented to them in a digestible form. That takes manpower. And they can't expect to be our top priority when it comes to allocating staff time." As he spoke, he twisted his wrist, as if trying to work out a cramp.
Kerry was impressed with the way Robert had turned the tables, giving a rationale for requiring notice that didn't make it sound like the auditors were catching us with our pants down. She would have to remember that the next time she dealt with them. She nodded approvingly. But then she recalled, "Hey, wait a minute - you got us only a day's notice for the last audit."
"Uh, no. I had two days. I told you 'one' because I like to watch you scurry," Robert said, grinning.
Ah, this was the Romano that Kerry knew and loathed. She noticed that he was still fidgeting, and asked, "What's wrong with your hand?"
"Nothing," he replied flatly.
"Did you pull something?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Where does it hurt?" Kerry persisted. She pointed to the muscle that he seemed to be trying to stretch, "Here?"
"Nope." Then, after a pause he added with a smirk, "Other hand."
"Oh . . . OH," Kerry said, catching on.
Robert's smug expression at having thrown her for a loop faded and was replaced by a look of embarrassment. Kerry supposed that he regretted having revealed what he undoubtedly viewed as a weakness. It scared her a bit that his warped thought process actually made sense to her. Before the moment could become too awkward, she asked, "So, stretching your right hand helps?"
"Sometimes. Unless people keep drawing my attention to what I'm doing," he said pointedly, scowling at her.
There was something comical about Robert's exaggerated hostility. Kerry laughed, causing his scowl to deepen. Smiling, she said, "Sorry," though she wasn't really sure what she was apologizing for.
Robert's expression became mischievous as he replied, "I'll let it pass this time, seeing as how you're with child."
Kerry was stunned. Nobody at the hospital knew, except for the obstetrics team, whom Kerry had sworn to secrecy. She stammered, "How did you . . .?"
"I have my ways," he replied, with a self-satisfied grin.
Appealing to Romano's better nature was probably a lost cause. But maybe he would at least sympathize with her desire for privacy. Kerry pleaded, "Robert, I really want to keep this quiet . . ."
He cut her off, "Oh, don't worry. My ill-will toward you is outweighed by my desire to see the stunned looks on the peanut gallery's faces when you walk in with a bouncing baby . . . whatever. I won't tell."
Kerry was somewhat relieved. Before she could thank him, however, Robert veered back into his usual obnoxiousness:
"So, do you get paternity leave or maternity leave, or both?"
*****
A little later that evening, Neela fled the NICU after a harrowing day. She desperately needed to be outside after the stifling confinement of the unit, but she was too wired to go home. The roof would be ideal - just her and the sky. Unfortunately, it was cold and windy. And it would be too tempting for her to stop by the NICU on her way down, and be sucked in again.
Happily, she recalled a little hide-away that she'd stumbled upon during her first days at County. Along the side of the hospital, away from the bustle of the ambulance bay, there was a small overhang. Perhaps a casualty of a construction project that never proceeded, a short stretch of chest-high cinder block wall stood a couple of meters from the building. It was ugly, but it was far enough away from the dumpsters that it didn't smell, far enough from any door that it was private, and, best of all, there was a heating vent so she wouldn't freeze.
Neela arrived at her refuge, dropped her bag on the ground, and leaned her elbows on the wall. For a minute or two, she was numb, as if the emotional flood of the past weeks had swept away her capacity to feel anything more. Then she thought of Inga, the helpless victim not only of fate, but also of technology that can preserve life without healing it, and of Neela's own eagerness. She started to weep softly, knowing that however bad this rotation was for her, there were some small souls for whom it was infinitely worse.
A few minutes later, the tears were slowing to a stop. A teasing voice spoke up from behind her, "I'll give you some hot chocolate if you stop making that sound."
Neela whirled around, startled. She found herself a few feet from Dr. Romano, who was sitting on a bench right next to the building wall, near the heating vent. Neela didn't even remember there being a bench here. 'Oh God - I must have walked right by him without noticing. He was sitting here all along.' Flustered and embarrassed, she stammered, "Dr. Romano . . . oh . . . I'm sorry . . . what are you doing . . .?"
"Sulking," he answered. Patting the bench next to him, he offered playfully, "Wanna sulk with me?" At her hesitance, he added, "Come on, it's warmer over here. And I won't ask you any stupid questions."
Wary, but also weary, she walked over and sat on the other end of the bench. Romano deftly unscrewed the lid of his thermos one-handed, poured hot chocolate into the cup, and gave it to her. They sat quietly for a few minutes, as Neela warmed up. Absently, she wondered where Romano had gotten such excellent hot chocolate.
Romano broke the silence with, "So, who'd you kill?" At Neela's plaintive look, he added, "What? That's not a stupid question."
"I didn't kill anybody. Not exactly anyway . . .," she trailed off forlornly. After a long pause she whispered, "I don't think I can do this."
"Sure you can. How much time you got left?" Romano responded.
"I don't mean finish my rotation. Of course I'll do that." She didn't notice Romano smiling at her complete inability to consider not fulfilling her responsibilities. "But I'm not cut out to be a neonatologist."
"Well," Romano said lightly, "since you've been hooked on every other specialty you've tried, maybe it's not so bad to cross one off the list."
"Not THAT one," she replied, fighting back tears. When she had collected herself, she continued, "NICU was the rotation I was looking forward to the most. It's pediatrics, and it's also high-tech and challenging. I thought it would be perfect for me."
"But it didn't turn out to be what you expected?"
"No, *I* didn't turn out to be what I expected," Neela spat with surprising bitterness. "Because of a procedure I advocated, a little girl suffered a massive brain bleed. And I couldn't even talk to her parents about it. I'm fine with the science, but I can't handle the human interactions."
After a contemplative pause, Romano replied, "I think your assessment of your people skills is wrong." Then he smirked and added, "Of course, I prefer my patients unconscious and their families far, far away, so I'll understand if you don't find my opinion all that reassuring."
Neela smiled in spite of her distress. She sighed, "It's not just that. There's more uncertainty and guesswork in neonatal medicine than in other areas. I think I need to be doing something where I feel more in control."
"Sounds reasonable. You know, there are quite a few other specialties to choose from," he teased.
"Oh, I know. And it's not like I was sure I was going to pick NICU in the end. I just always thought it would be an option. Now I'm afraid whatever I end up in will feel like I'm stuck with second-best. I guess I'm being silly," she berated herself.
Romano looked down for a moment, then looked back at Neela and said quietly, "Thinking about it that way is guaranteed to make you miserable."
After a beat he added more buoyantly, "You'll get over it. How did you like observing Dr. Pennington?"
Neela's expression brightened. "That was amazing," she enthused, "I wish third-years could do pediatric surgery rotations!"
"Well, they prefer to get you after you've had some experience with general surgery and pediatrics. You'll get a shot at it next year. But first I get to torture you a bit more."
Neela grinned. She was actually looking forward to being back in the ER. She missed Michael and Dr. Lewis, and even Pratt and some of the nurses. And, despite his borderline psychotic behaviors, she felt comfortable working with Dr. Romano. She could relate to him as a highly intelligent perfectionist, somebody she could learn from.
"You're starting to look too happy for the sulking section, Miss Rasgotra," Romano observed wryly.
"The sleep deprivation causes mood swings," she shot back, "I'm sure it will pass." After a moment she inquired, "What are you sulking about?"
She wasn't sure if he would answer, but then he shrugged, "Little stuff. No brain-bleeds." He stared down at his prosthesis and said, "Five-year- old looked at me and wigged out. And Dr. Corday blew me off to do a choleduchojejunostomy."
Noticing his jealous tone, Neela smiled slyly and asked, "You fancy her?"
"No," he responded unconvincingly, "But I fancy choleduchojejunostomies."
He was trying to sound glib, but Neela could hear the pain in his voice. She wished that there was something she could do or say that would help, but there wasn't. So she just nodded sympathetically and hoped her expression conveyed empathy without pity. Apparently it did; she saw no offense in his eyes when he gazed back at her.
They sat quietly for a few moments. Then, changing the subject, Romano complained, "Shit. If you're here that means the Med students know about this place . . ."
Neela giggled, "No, actually, I found it myself. None of the others know."
"Good," Romano growled, "Sharing is not my forte."
"Oh wait . . . I might have mentioned it to Abby . . ."
"*groan*"
*****
Author's notes: When I started this story I wasn't really planning on incorporating events from current ER episodes. But some of my reviewers seem to like that, and it helps maintain my flagging interest in the show, so I'll do it when it fits with the dramatic flow of my story. Naturally I reserve the right to ignore anything on the show that I deem boring or stupid :-) Sorry Justine, there's no Elizabeth in this chapter. But she'll be in the next chapter, as will a minor character who is beloved by the folks over at TWoP.
Robert Romano was standing near the elevator, feeling like a complete idiot. His shift had ended at six and his dinner plans with Elizabeth fell through when she was called in to surgery. But, then, another opportunity presented itself. In the weeks since Pratt's revelation, Robert had made a point of watching Morris closely in the hopes of observing something incriminating. So far, no luck. Apparently the little shit was being more careful. Now, however, Morris probably thought that Romano had left for the day. And he had gone up to the roof for his break, someplace his boss would be unlikely to venture even if he were still around. If ever there was a time to catch the pot-head in the act, this was it.
Unfortunately, the glitch in this plan was that it required Robert to actually go up to the roof. And that just wasn't happening. He was able to force himself to get on the elevator and press the appropriate button. But twice now he had chickened out, punching the button that would stop the elevator's ascent in the nick of time - his hand reaching out as if it had a will of its own. Then he would ride down a few floors, trying to re- group. Robert smirked with black humor, imagining his right hand saying, "Hell if I'm going up there - I saw what happened to the other guy!"
When he was in the elevator itself, Robert felt anxious. But as soon as he got out, he just felt stupid. He knew that, currently, there were no helicopters arriving or departing - he'd checked with the helipad controller. And even if one did show up, he would be able to hear it from inside the elevator and keep the doors closed. Rationally, he should be able to do this. Busting the wayward resident should be motivating enough. But apparently it wasn't.
As always, Robert found the senselessness of his fear infuriating. Other than this, he thought he was doing better than he had been. He couldn't say that he was happy, but he felt steadier, more functional. He had successfully weaned himself off the sleeping pills, finding he could now get a few hours of restless sleep without them almost as well as with them. 'I should tell Karl,' he thought, recalling the psychiatrist cautioning against long-term use of hypnotic drugs.
Thinking of De Raad caused a brief pang of guilt, as Robert had been ignoring the other man's inquiries and invitations. 'I can manage on my own now,' he told himself. He tried not to think of the deeper reason, but involuntarily he flashed back to the night he was sitting on his couch, trying to watch the game, feeling like the whole world was about to unravel. He didn't have a name for the emotion that gripped him, but it was overwhelmingly awful. And Karl . . . made it stop. He made him feel safe - just by talking to him. Robert was grateful, of course, but he was also profoundly unnerved at the experience of depending on another person to control what was going on inside his head.
'This whole "I can manage on my own" business would be a lot more plausible if I could make myself stay on the damn elevator!' Robert fumed. OK - one more time. He got on the elevator, which, thankfully, was empty. He forced himself to be still as the carriage, and the tension in his body, rose. But by the time he got within a couple of floors of the top, he could hear it in his mind - the thumping rotors, the screaming. His resolve broke. Without looking, he slapped the elevator buttons and bailed out at the next floor.
*****
Not even her meeting with the board of directors, simultaneously tense and tedious, could sour Kerry Weaver's mood today. She was having a baby. Well, not literally, but close enough. Actually, Sandy joked that Kerry was getting the better end of the deal - motherhood without morning sickness. Such jokes took on a slightly awkward tone, since they both knew that Kerry would give anything to be able to carry their child to term herself.
'Awkward' was a good way to describe Kerry's relationship with Sandy after her miscarriage. Sandy felt that Kerry was pressuring her to become pregnant; Kerry felt that if Sandy really cared about her she would be willing to at least consider bearing their child. For a while Kerry thought this conflict might break them. But somehow, it didn't. Whatever their differences, neither of them wanted to see it end.
So, Kerry started researching adoption, and was reassured by Sandy's enthusiastic support. And then, somewhere along the way, Sandy changed her mind and wanted to become pregnant. To this day, Kerry wasn't completely sure what caused the turn-around. The fact that Kerry stopped pushing her probably helped. Also, Sandy seemed touched by Kerry's reason for preferring her to have a baby rather than simply adopting: The child would have no genetic connection to Kerry either way - since Sandy was younger, her eggs would be more viable, and the sperm would come from a donor. But Kerry wanted her baby to be biologically part of somebody she loved - Sandy.
Whatever the motivation, Sandy was now, as she put it, "ready to pop." They had actually rushed in to the hospital last week, surreptitiously, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Now, walking from the meeting room back to her office, Kerry was almost dizzy with excitement and exhilaration. Nothing could dampen her spirits right now. Not even . . . 'Oh God, what does he want?'
Robert Romano stepped off the elevator maybe 10 feet in front of her. Kerry encountered Robert when she passed through the ER, and she saw him at the monthly Department Heads' meeting (when he showed up!) but it had been a while since he had come up to her office - let alone dropped in unannounced. A surprise visit from Romano . . . could that possibly mean anything good?
Getting over her initial misgivings, Kerry looked at Robert again. He seemed a bit shaken. Instead of walking toward the administrative offices, he turned around and stared at the elevator as the doors closed. Kerry, taking advantage of catching him unaware, asked, "Are you lost, or are you coming to see me?"
Robert turned around with a start. He noticed Kerry and replied, "What? . . . Uh, no, I wasn't coming to see you. I just . . . I, uh . . . wasn't . . ."
Kerry was both amused and concerned by Robert's uncharacteristic lack of articulation. She waited a moment to see if he would get his thoughts together. When that didn't seem to be happening, she decided to have mercy and give him an 'out'. She offered, "Well, as long as you're here, there are a couple of things we can discuss. Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," he nodded, and followed Kerry down the hall. They went into Kerry's office. He sat down across the desk from her.
Kerry attributed the absence of any biting comments about her décor to Robert's continued distraction. She wanted to ask him what was the matter, but she knew that would go over like a lead balloon with her prickly colleague. Instead, she opted for a more sarcastic approach: "The number of complaints about you has dwindled significantly in the last month. I take it that means you've bullied everybody into submission?"
"Yep. That's the plan," he retorted, then, cutting to the chase, he asked, "What's up?"
"Well, there's nothing urgent, but I wanted to let you know that we're sending Dr. Lewis to the Emergency Medicine conference in Sacramento next weekend."
"Does she know?" Robert inquired.
"Yes. She's whining about having to leave her dog."
Robert nodded and smiled a little.
Kerry continued, "The only other thing is the upcoming audit. Unfortunately, I don't have much new information about when that will happen. They say 'some time in the next two months.' They'll notify us the day before."
"Kerry, you can't let those guys push you around," Romano groused, seeming more like himself, "Tell 'em they need to give you 48 hours notice."
"They seem to be operating under the notion that giving us warning defeats the purpose of a surprise audit," she replied dryly.
"That's bullshit. They don't just want to unobtrusively peek at our books. They want things summarized and presented to them in a digestible form. That takes manpower. And they can't expect to be our top priority when it comes to allocating staff time." As he spoke, he twisted his wrist, as if trying to work out a cramp.
Kerry was impressed with the way Robert had turned the tables, giving a rationale for requiring notice that didn't make it sound like the auditors were catching us with our pants down. She would have to remember that the next time she dealt with them. She nodded approvingly. But then she recalled, "Hey, wait a minute - you got us only a day's notice for the last audit."
"Uh, no. I had two days. I told you 'one' because I like to watch you scurry," Robert said, grinning.
Ah, this was the Romano that Kerry knew and loathed. She noticed that he was still fidgeting, and asked, "What's wrong with your hand?"
"Nothing," he replied flatly.
"Did you pull something?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Where does it hurt?" Kerry persisted. She pointed to the muscle that he seemed to be trying to stretch, "Here?"
"Nope." Then, after a pause he added with a smirk, "Other hand."
"Oh . . . OH," Kerry said, catching on.
Robert's smug expression at having thrown her for a loop faded and was replaced by a look of embarrassment. Kerry supposed that he regretted having revealed what he undoubtedly viewed as a weakness. It scared her a bit that his warped thought process actually made sense to her. Before the moment could become too awkward, she asked, "So, stretching your right hand helps?"
"Sometimes. Unless people keep drawing my attention to what I'm doing," he said pointedly, scowling at her.
There was something comical about Robert's exaggerated hostility. Kerry laughed, causing his scowl to deepen. Smiling, she said, "Sorry," though she wasn't really sure what she was apologizing for.
Robert's expression became mischievous as he replied, "I'll let it pass this time, seeing as how you're with child."
Kerry was stunned. Nobody at the hospital knew, except for the obstetrics team, whom Kerry had sworn to secrecy. She stammered, "How did you . . .?"
"I have my ways," he replied, with a self-satisfied grin.
Appealing to Romano's better nature was probably a lost cause. But maybe he would at least sympathize with her desire for privacy. Kerry pleaded, "Robert, I really want to keep this quiet . . ."
He cut her off, "Oh, don't worry. My ill-will toward you is outweighed by my desire to see the stunned looks on the peanut gallery's faces when you walk in with a bouncing baby . . . whatever. I won't tell."
Kerry was somewhat relieved. Before she could thank him, however, Robert veered back into his usual obnoxiousness:
"So, do you get paternity leave or maternity leave, or both?"
*****
A little later that evening, Neela fled the NICU after a harrowing day. She desperately needed to be outside after the stifling confinement of the unit, but she was too wired to go home. The roof would be ideal - just her and the sky. Unfortunately, it was cold and windy. And it would be too tempting for her to stop by the NICU on her way down, and be sucked in again.
Happily, she recalled a little hide-away that she'd stumbled upon during her first days at County. Along the side of the hospital, away from the bustle of the ambulance bay, there was a small overhang. Perhaps a casualty of a construction project that never proceeded, a short stretch of chest-high cinder block wall stood a couple of meters from the building. It was ugly, but it was far enough away from the dumpsters that it didn't smell, far enough from any door that it was private, and, best of all, there was a heating vent so she wouldn't freeze.
Neela arrived at her refuge, dropped her bag on the ground, and leaned her elbows on the wall. For a minute or two, she was numb, as if the emotional flood of the past weeks had swept away her capacity to feel anything more. Then she thought of Inga, the helpless victim not only of fate, but also of technology that can preserve life without healing it, and of Neela's own eagerness. She started to weep softly, knowing that however bad this rotation was for her, there were some small souls for whom it was infinitely worse.
A few minutes later, the tears were slowing to a stop. A teasing voice spoke up from behind her, "I'll give you some hot chocolate if you stop making that sound."
Neela whirled around, startled. She found herself a few feet from Dr. Romano, who was sitting on a bench right next to the building wall, near the heating vent. Neela didn't even remember there being a bench here. 'Oh God - I must have walked right by him without noticing. He was sitting here all along.' Flustered and embarrassed, she stammered, "Dr. Romano . . . oh . . . I'm sorry . . . what are you doing . . .?"
"Sulking," he answered. Patting the bench next to him, he offered playfully, "Wanna sulk with me?" At her hesitance, he added, "Come on, it's warmer over here. And I won't ask you any stupid questions."
Wary, but also weary, she walked over and sat on the other end of the bench. Romano deftly unscrewed the lid of his thermos one-handed, poured hot chocolate into the cup, and gave it to her. They sat quietly for a few minutes, as Neela warmed up. Absently, she wondered where Romano had gotten such excellent hot chocolate.
Romano broke the silence with, "So, who'd you kill?" At Neela's plaintive look, he added, "What? That's not a stupid question."
"I didn't kill anybody. Not exactly anyway . . .," she trailed off forlornly. After a long pause she whispered, "I don't think I can do this."
"Sure you can. How much time you got left?" Romano responded.
"I don't mean finish my rotation. Of course I'll do that." She didn't notice Romano smiling at her complete inability to consider not fulfilling her responsibilities. "But I'm not cut out to be a neonatologist."
"Well," Romano said lightly, "since you've been hooked on every other specialty you've tried, maybe it's not so bad to cross one off the list."
"Not THAT one," she replied, fighting back tears. When she had collected herself, she continued, "NICU was the rotation I was looking forward to the most. It's pediatrics, and it's also high-tech and challenging. I thought it would be perfect for me."
"But it didn't turn out to be what you expected?"
"No, *I* didn't turn out to be what I expected," Neela spat with surprising bitterness. "Because of a procedure I advocated, a little girl suffered a massive brain bleed. And I couldn't even talk to her parents about it. I'm fine with the science, but I can't handle the human interactions."
After a contemplative pause, Romano replied, "I think your assessment of your people skills is wrong." Then he smirked and added, "Of course, I prefer my patients unconscious and their families far, far away, so I'll understand if you don't find my opinion all that reassuring."
Neela smiled in spite of her distress. She sighed, "It's not just that. There's more uncertainty and guesswork in neonatal medicine than in other areas. I think I need to be doing something where I feel more in control."
"Sounds reasonable. You know, there are quite a few other specialties to choose from," he teased.
"Oh, I know. And it's not like I was sure I was going to pick NICU in the end. I just always thought it would be an option. Now I'm afraid whatever I end up in will feel like I'm stuck with second-best. I guess I'm being silly," she berated herself.
Romano looked down for a moment, then looked back at Neela and said quietly, "Thinking about it that way is guaranteed to make you miserable."
After a beat he added more buoyantly, "You'll get over it. How did you like observing Dr. Pennington?"
Neela's expression brightened. "That was amazing," she enthused, "I wish third-years could do pediatric surgery rotations!"
"Well, they prefer to get you after you've had some experience with general surgery and pediatrics. You'll get a shot at it next year. But first I get to torture you a bit more."
Neela grinned. She was actually looking forward to being back in the ER. She missed Michael and Dr. Lewis, and even Pratt and some of the nurses. And, despite his borderline psychotic behaviors, she felt comfortable working with Dr. Romano. She could relate to him as a highly intelligent perfectionist, somebody she could learn from.
"You're starting to look too happy for the sulking section, Miss Rasgotra," Romano observed wryly.
"The sleep deprivation causes mood swings," she shot back, "I'm sure it will pass." After a moment she inquired, "What are you sulking about?"
She wasn't sure if he would answer, but then he shrugged, "Little stuff. No brain-bleeds." He stared down at his prosthesis and said, "Five-year- old looked at me and wigged out. And Dr. Corday blew me off to do a choleduchojejunostomy."
Noticing his jealous tone, Neela smiled slyly and asked, "You fancy her?"
"No," he responded unconvincingly, "But I fancy choleduchojejunostomies."
He was trying to sound glib, but Neela could hear the pain in his voice. She wished that there was something she could do or say that would help, but there wasn't. So she just nodded sympathetically and hoped her expression conveyed empathy without pity. Apparently it did; she saw no offense in his eyes when he gazed back at her.
They sat quietly for a few moments. Then, changing the subject, Romano complained, "Shit. If you're here that means the Med students know about this place . . ."
Neela giggled, "No, actually, I found it myself. None of the others know."
"Good," Romano growled, "Sharing is not my forte."
"Oh wait . . . I might have mentioned it to Abby . . ."
"*groan*"
*****
Author's notes: When I started this story I wasn't really planning on incorporating events from current ER episodes. But some of my reviewers seem to like that, and it helps maintain my flagging interest in the show, so I'll do it when it fits with the dramatic flow of my story. Naturally I reserve the right to ignore anything on the show that I deem boring or stupid :-) Sorry Justine, there's no Elizabeth in this chapter. But she'll be in the next chapter, as will a minor character who is beloved by the folks over at TWoP.