Disclaimer: I re-iterate, not mine, never was, never will be ER owned by me is not.

This is turning out longer than I thought. A longer chapter now, coz the others were a wee bit short.

Thanks to my reviewers-I read yours too y'know! Thanks to Christina (love the fic by the way, Miss workaholic) for her reassurance about the love factor.

This being quite dramatic and our two heroes being apart means that its not as big as in some other fics. But keep reading if you like a good drama. If you like comedy, try my other fan fic Parodylicious which is just mad (plug, plug)

I also apologise for the formatting going back and forth. I'll try and keep it clear from now on.

Oh and I invented Davidson, I just needed another surgeon.

Alrighty, that's me talking all over, back to the action.

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Her eyes were closed, darkness enveloped her as strange noises and smells invaded her senses. The buzz and drone of machines and lights. The rustle of a sheet, clothing. A smell of sweat and the unmistakable tang of blood. I know that smell, said her mind. Someone was breathing heavily. More than one. A slight whimper. Carefully she peeled her lids open.

She appeared to be sitting on the floor., her back against...what was that? Hard and curved-the bottom of a bed. The room was very still and dark. Shattered glass on the floor, showed some lights had been blasted away. She turned her head sideways. By her side, the sleeping man from earlier still looked as though he was sleeping. But pooling strains on his chest suggested otherwise. He wasn't moving, his face pale. Elizabeth closed her eyes again, dizziness and nausea fighting for control. She overcame them and looked forwards. Kneeling on the floor was the young dark haired woman, face down, biting her lip, but not crying.

Still in shock, thought Elizabeth. The shooter, Martin, was standing by the door, peering through the closed blinds. He was sweating and swallowing, a hand scratching his temple. Suddenly she became very aware of herself. A snapshot line-up of what had happened appeared in her mind jostling for her attention.

Gun, chest, black man, neck, door, Jane.

Jane. She moved her hands, which were resting on her lap. Her left hand stopped just above her hip. Her clothes were damp. She pulled her hand up and tried to focus. Oh, yes...

*

As Shirley disappeared, Robert made a few cautious steps down the corridor towards the door. It opened suddenly and a gun barrel was pointed directly at him. He froze.

'No further doc,' he heard a man call.

Robert held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but he wasn't going to be so easily deterred.

'What do you want?' he called.

'Just get back!' yelled the man.

'We heard gun shots. The police are coming,' said Robert evenly.

'Nothings going on...tell them to stay back, they come near here and I start shooting people.'

Robert backed away a few steps to show his deference, but he kept talking.

'You shot a man already. He came down here, wounded in the neck. We know something's going on,' he said.

There was a pause. Robert resisted the urge to dive down the hallway. Where is she? his head nagged, what happened? Maybe she got out, maybe she went home...

'Look everyone's okay. There's a doctor in here to look after them!' called the man.

Robert reached out his arm against the wall to steady himself. He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

'I need to speak to the doctor,' he said.

Another pause. Blood thudded in his ears and every muscle was tensed.

'No. You don't need to, now get back!'

Robert opened his mouth to speak again, but a bullet zinged in front of him and imbedded into the floor. Robert focused on it for a moment, then moved backwards slowly. When he was round the corner he paused and leant against the wall.

Shirley was on the phone, her eyes wide, talking quickly. He recovered himself enough to, drag a spare gurney across the corridor.

'No-one goes down there,' he said to Shirley.

She nodded.

'They're coming,' she said, bluntly.

Robert nodded. His thoughts were a mess. She was in there he knew. Was she hurt? She would be scared though, although she wouldn't show it of course. Not Lizzie.

All your damn fault, said a voice in his head, had to play the little games with her didn't you? Just because you're hurting. Just because you can. He was drifting. Standing by the desk, hoping, wondering if everything had just happened had been a dream.

'Dr Romano?'

It was Shirley. He looked at her, blinking slowly.

'Yeah?'

'Dr Corday, was she...is she...?'

'Yes. Yes she is.'

And as he said it other words ran through him and around him and crashed inside him. She could be dead. No. No, no, that's not how we think is it? Well, yes it's how you think isn't it? Always the pessimist. And she always positive '...You're an excellent surgeon and you will be again, I promise you...'

Her blue eyes were earnest and her cheek was soft... I need to do something, ANYTHING! He bit the inside of his cheek until he felt blood, the taste and the pain reminding him of reality.

'I going to check on our neck wound,' he said, curtly, then shouted at a nearby nurse, 'you there less stare more work!'

He turned to Shirley as he strode off.

'When they get here, get me and remember no-one goes down there.'

He pushed the door into the scrub room, empty with a chemical air and the smell of latex. Surgery. His other great love. An excellent surgeon. He scrubbed in a daze. Don't think about it, you can't afford to. Keep working, keep on top. He entered the OR where Edson and Dr Davidson were working.

'What messes are we making in here?' he asked, a lame attempt at his usual humour.

Edson and Davidson didn't look up.

'What's going on out there,' asked Edson.

'The madness of mankind,' replied Robert, grandly, then under his breath, 'has captured an angel.'

Well what do we think? Please review-I'm a hungry little writer. Cheers muchly!