I'm finally back – thank you all for the reviews and feedback! I'm really happy that people are still reading this story and I apologize for the delay.

The note in her mailbox had been bothering her all day.

All because she had opened up, barely, for one minute, to Kerry Weaver.

She'd been sitting in the doctor's lounge, sipping a cup of coffee. She preferred tea, but the coffee was to energize her, keep her awake. She sipped quietly, staring into space.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up. Kerry was staring at her. "Hello," Elizabeth said.

"How are you?" Kerry said.

"I'm fine," Elizabeth said quietly. "How are you?"

Kerry looked at her intently. "You don't look fine," she said.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm fine," she repeated.

Kerry continued to stare at her.

"I'm just a little sad," Elizabeth said very quietly.

"Why?" Kerry said, also in a quiet tone.

Elizabeth leaned back wearily, touched her hair, didn't answer.

"Is it about Mark?" Kerry said.

Elizabeth stared at her blankly. "Mark?"

"Is it about...Robert?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Kerry, please. I can't talk about this right now, all right? I really am...okay. I will be."

"Okay," Kerry said hesitantly. To Elizabeth's surprise, Kerry reached out, put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Take care."

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth said.

When she got to her mailbox the next day, there was a letter inside. She opened it curiously, and started to read.

"Dear Elizabeth,

I know that this has been a stressful time for you. With that in mind, I'd like to suggest that you speak with Dr. Robinson, one of our in-house grief counselors. I have taken the liberty of scheduling your first appointment, for Thursday evening at 6:00 p.m. Please work with Dr. Robinson to choose a time for your subsequent appointments. Once a week should work out quite well.

Thanks for agreeing to this. I know this will help you personally, and I believe it will help you professionally as well. I'm sure you feel as I do that we can best help our patients when we ourselves are in the best of health, mentally as well as physically. These visits with Dr. Robinson will be quite beneficial to you, and I look forward to hearing about how things are going.

Best regards,

Kerry Weaver."

At the bottom of the letter, Kerry had signed her name, and written "Chief of Staff" underneath her signature. She had also included some information about Dr. Robinson's office location.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks get hot as she read the letter. She could barely control her rage. How dare Kerry make an appointment for her with a therapist? It would be one thing if she suggested it to Elizabeth, as a possible option, but there was no question that this was mandatory. "Thanks for agreeing to this?" Elizabeth repeated to herself. "How dare she."

Elizabeth walked into Dr. Robinson's office. "Hello?" she called out tentatively.

An attractive woman maybe a few years older than Elizabeth looked up from her desk. "Hello," she said warmly, extending her hand. "You must be Elizabeth."

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth said carefully, as she shook the other woman's hand.

"I'm Paula Robinson," the woman said. "Please, have a seat."

Elizabeth looked around the room. There were two lounge chairs, and a sofa.

"Anywhere you like," Dr. Robinson said.

Elizabeth walked over to the sofa tentatively, and sat down. "I suppose I'm expected to lie down?"

Dr. Robinson smiled. "If you like." Elizabeth stayed seated. "I know your schedule must be quite busy, but I appreciate your taking the time to come in."

"Well, Dr. Weaver was the one–"Elizabeth started. She tried again. "She seemed to think it was – necessary."

Dr. Robinson smiled. "How are you doing, these days?"

"Fine," Elizabeth said.

"Dr. Weaver said you mentioned feeling sad the other day."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Don't we all, sometimes?"

"Yes," said Dr. Robinson, "but when it gets in the way of your work, of your ability to function, that's when you have to take steps."

"Look," Elizabeth said, "Just because Kerry Weaver forced me to come to therapy doesn't mean that I don't have the ability–"

"Elizabeth, listen," Dr. Robinson said. "This isn't about Kerry Weaver."

"Isn't it?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Not totally," Dr. Robinson said, and smiled. "Obviously, she is concerned about you, and others on staff, when there's a problem. Once it's been called to my attention, though, my goal is to help you. How can coming here and talking about things make you feel better. Because, Elizabeth, really, it's not just what Kerry says. You have to admit it to you, if you don't feel well enough to go on, if you feel like you need a little extra guidance, some support."

Elizabeth sighed. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Whatever you want."

"I've been a bit tired lately, that's all. I suppose I haven't been sleeping enough...that could make me more emotional."

"Of course."

"Although," Elizabeth said, hesitating. Dr. Robinson looked at her. "Well, the thing is, I hadn't been sleeping well. But the past few days, I slept really well."

"Yes?" Dr. Robinson said. "Anything you can attribute it to, then?"

"Well," Elizabeth said, "I can't explain it. I've been...melancholy...but then this week I felt a bit more peaceful. I went to bed, and I had these weird dreams."

"Yes?"

"Yes," she said. "I don't really recall them - just that I felt like someone was watching over me while I slept. I felt comforted."

"I see."

Elizabeth laughed a little.

"What's funny?" Dr. Robinson said, smiling.

"Oh, it's just something."

"Tell me."

"You'd think I was nutty if I did."

"You're not really giving me a chance to judge though, are you."

"Well, I know what everyone else in this hospital would say," Elizabeth mused. "They've already made it pretty clear."

"What is this about, Elizabeth?" Dr. Robinson said curiously. "Robert Romano?"

Elizabeth looked at her in shock.

"Kerry Weaver," Dr. Robinson flipped through a pad of notes as she talked, "she thought you had been saddened by his death. She mentioned that another colleague thought you might have associated him with your husband."

"Associated Robert with Mark?" Elizabeth said. "Who said that? Why would they even think that?"

"I don't know," Dr. Robinson said. "Because they both died, I suppose."

Elizabeth sighed. "Aren't you allowed to miss someone," she said, "without it being a federal case?"

"Of course," Dr. Robinson said. "So you were close to Dr. Romano?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.

"You're not sure?"

"I haven't spoken to him lately," Elizabeth said. Dr. Robinson looked surprised. "I mean, I hadn't spoken to him much, during the weeks before he died." Elizabeth covered. "I suppose I felt guilty."

"Uh huh,"

"and, well, I sympathized with him, in a way," Elizabeth went on, "I cared. As much as you can care for someone you hardly know."

"I see."

"People have so many secrets," Elizabeth said. She shook her head. "They just keep it all hidden."

"Who does that, Elizabeth?" Dr. Robinson said. "Dr. Romano did that?"

"He –kept it all inside," she said. "A lot of it. If only I'd known–"she broke off, started again. "You could have helped him," Elizabeth said. "He really needed someone to talk to. Instead of just writing it all down—"

Dr. Robinson stared at her.

"He mentioned something once about a journal," Elizabeth said lamely. "I suppose I wasn't really listening at the time. Later, I thought more about it."

"So you think he wrote a lot in this journal?"

"I think he must have done so," Elizabeth said. "He was very private, and he had a lot of pain."

"Like you," Dr. Robinson said. Elizabeth stared at her. "Haven't you had a lot of pain, in your life? Haven't you tried to keep it to yourself?"

"Well," Elizabeth said.

"Elizabeth, I think I understand what some of this is about," Dr. Robinson said. "You feel badly that Dr. Romano was so alone at the end of his life. Could it be though that you also need someone to confide in?"

"I suppose so," Elizabeth said.

"What about Dr. Romano?" Dr. Robinson said. "I'll get back to him, since you mentioned something. You considered him a friend?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why of course?" Dr. Robinson questioned. "From what you've said, and what Kerry Weaver has said, I gather he didn't have a lot of friends around the hospital."

"So I'm not allowed to be his friend then?" Elizabeth challenged.

"No, I didn't say that, I'm just wondering what the connection was. Can you go into more detail about it, about how you two got along?"

"No, I really can't, not tonight," Elizabeth said hastily. "I'm sorry, but it's really getting late, and I'm not – I'm not used to this. It feel strange to me, and uncomfortable."

"Well, we can stop here for this evening," Dr. Robinson said. "Why don't we make another appointment?"

"Must we?" Elizabeth said.

"Yes," Dr. Robinson said, smiling. "How is Tuesday for you?"

At home, she kicked off her shoes, pulled on a pair of sweat pants, and collapsed onto the couch, much more comfortably than she had let herself get on Dr. Robinson's couch. She'd already seen to Ella, and she was grateful that her nanny was so good about making sure Ella had her dinner before Elizabeth got home. Elizabeth herself had barely eaten today, but she wasn't hungry. All she wanted now was to relax and watch television. She turned on the set and started flipping around, selecting different channels. Finally she settled on a movie, a romantic comedy that she'd seen a few times before. She sank back against the couch pillows, relaxed and contented. She was so glad to be home. She even laughed at a line of dialogue in the movie.

"Chick flick."

She gasped out loud and turned to her right. He was sitting next to her on the couch. "Robert!" she said happily. Impulsively she hugged him.

"Yeah, it's me," he said shyly.

"Where have you been?" she said.

"Around," he said. "I had to come back, now that you've forgotten all about me."

"I haven't forgotten," she said. "Not at all. I was just watching a movie."

"Lizzie, I'm just kidding," he said. Then, shyly, "Miss me?"

"You know I did," she said. "I was calling and calling for you, and you never came,"

"Oh," he said, putting his left arm around her shoulders. "It's nice to be missed."

She let herself rest her head on his shoulder, leaning against him comfortably. "You shouldn't have worried me like that."

"Well, you knew I was dead," he reminded her. "How worried could you be?"

"Stop kidding around," she said.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "So, how was your day?"

"Awful," she said. "I had to go to a shrink today."

"I know," he said. "Sorry about that."

"You weren't there, were you?"

"No, I kind of darted in and darted out," he said. "I figured it was private."

"Kind of like writing in a journal," she said. He hung his head. "You wanted me to read it."

"I know," he said. "But then I just – I don't know. I started thinking about some of the things I'd written there, and I felt regret. Like maybe I shouldn't have subjected you to that."

"I'm glad you let me read it," she said sincerely. "But it was a lot to take in."

"I know," he said softly.

"I want to talk about it," she said.

"I know you do," he said. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"Why tomorrow?"

"Because...I want to watch this movie."

"Liar," she said affectionately.

"I'm not lying," he said defensively. "Meg Ryan is hot. Not that she'd really fall for a schmuck like Tom Hanks."

"Oh, so I suppose you're more appealing than Tom Hanks?" she teased him.

"I know I am."

"You keep telling yourself that," she joked.

"See, now you're being mean to me," he pouted.

"I'm just happy, Robert," she said. "I'm happy to see you again. I was getting worried I wouldn't see you again."

"Well, you haven't lost me yet," he murmured.

"Tomorrow night, we'll talk more," she said. "I'll be your therapist, if you want me to."

"Okay," he said.

Leaning against him, she fell contentedly to sleep.