Disclaimer: Okay, if it was mine, I wouldn't be writing this here. I'd be writing it there.
A/N: I thank again my lovely readers and reviewers. Although you could make me even more cheerful with more updates on your own fics which I regularly enjoy-hint, hint Merrymime, Christina and the rest (you know who you are).
I've just realised this must be one of the few Cordano fan fics where our hero and heroine are spending most of it apart. Er, sorry about that. Written myself in a corner now, but I promise you that they do converse properly. Eventually.
Now I'm babbling-here's more.
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Sometimes, Robert let his mind wander and imagine the different ways he could be her knight in shining armour. It was always very film-like, with him bursting through doors, guns blazing and coat billowing in the wind.
He never pictured himself trailing behind the dark blue figures of SWAT team members, wincing as they grunted out orders and shouted 'CLEAR!'. He never imagined hearing boots clattering on a tiled floor or smelling blood and latex in such an evil combination..
And he never, ever feared being too late.
He pulled a team of doctors and nurses from the floor as quickly as he could, then headed for the door. The SWAT team tried to keep them at bay, but they rounded the corner as one, determined to help.
In the doorway stood, not Martin, but a bloodstained, tear streaked young woman. The mysterious Sarah, thought Robert.
She peered at them for a split second, before disappearing back inside the room, ignoring the calls for her to get out and put her hands up. The team followed.
Robert pushed through the giant SWAT men with a combination of brute force and biting sarcasm, and found them surrounding the prone figure of Martin.
Sarah stood beside the door, a briefcase clutched in one hand and a blank look on her face.
'I hit him,' she said, 'I hit him.'
'Take him!' Robert barked to a couple of doctors and nurses behind him, 'and if you value your jobs make sure he lives and can talk!'
The room was filled rapidly with people and Robert ordered more people to help the shocked Sarah. His eyes scanned the dark room, desperately searching, heart bursting in his chest.
'Can we get some light in here!' he shouted, randomly.
Where was she? What had he done with her?
Then he saw her hand. Still, lifeless, lying on the floor. White and delicate, with dried red stains on the fingertips.
He rushed to where she was sitting, propped up by the wall. Her head lay to one side, eyes closed and her hair tumbled over her face. She could have been sleeping. He raised a shaking hand to her face and paused, afraid to touch her.
He moved it downward and stopped. A once white bandage was strapped tightly around her stomach. On the left side, a deep red colour had courser through the fabric. There was even some on the floor.
His mouth dried and he realised he wasn't breathing. He inhaled sharply and pushed his arm around her neck pulling her head into his arm.
'S-s,' he stuttered, then recovered and yelled, 'someone here now!'
His eyes didn't leave her face. She was breathing. He couldn't feel for a pulse but willed one to be there.
'Lizzie?' he whispered, 'Elizabeth can you hear me? Come on, this isn't any time to give up on me. If you go, who's going to fight with me? Weaver? No fun there. Come on Elizabeth, you've got to fight. I know you can. You always do.'
He brought him lips to her forehead, smelling her perfume, mixed with the bitter stench of blood. He fought a voice to give in and looked back at her face.
In another instant, strong arms were lifting her out of his arm and onto a gurney. As they wheeled her away, he stood for a moment watching. Time slowed, voices echoed. All he saw was her face drifting away from him.
He shook himself. Time re-started and he followed.
'Four units, type specific,' he ordered, grasping onto one side of the gurney, 'which OR is free?'
'Two,' answered Shirley, 'but Dr Romano-'
'Okay lets get her in. Shirley you should, er, ring her parents, their numbers should be about somewhere.'
Shirley, though, hung onto the side of the bed as it slammed through the pre-op room doors and Robert found himself cut off by the imposing figure of Donald Anspaugh. He was already gowned. Davidson and Edson could be seen behind him, emerging into the OR, ready for the patient.
'You'll understand if I ask you to sit this one out Robert?' said Donald, quietly.
Robert stared at him in disbelief.
'Like hell Donald,' he snarled, 'I don't care even if I can't do the surgery, I'm damn well going to be in there.'
'Robert,' said Donald, fixing both palms to the door frame to prevent him from entering, 'you are tired, upset, and far too involved. Now I ask you to sit this one out.'
Fury and resentment fired in Roberts battered brain, but Donald held fast. He drilled an angry stare into Donald's face and backed off slowly.
'Okay Donald, go play surgeon for a while. I just hope you haven't forgotten what to do with a scalpel,' he spat.
He turned and strode down the corridor, heading, well, he wasn't sure where. Infuriating bastard, he thought, who the hell did he think he was? He needed to be in there, to be with her. He was in such a blazing mood, he didn't hear someone call his name and didn't stop until a hand grabbed his arm.
He whirled around, fully intending to smack whomever it was bang in the face, but stuttered to a halt on seeing Yvonne Brown.
'Dr Romano,' she said, pleasantly, 'wondered where you got to.'
'I was doing my job,' he said, flatly, 'my real one, rather than the moon lighting I do when forced.'
Yvonne leaned and folded her arms, flashing a resigned smile.
'I think I've got you now doc,' she said, 'it usually doesn't take me long to get people, handy in this business, but you were a tough customer. I got it now though. Prone to mood swings, power-trips and calculated ego-boosting.'
Robert began to change his mind about smacking her. His anger had merely been dampened by her entrance, but not entirely extinguished. He had just busted his ass for her and the hulking morons they called the police and what did he get in return? Freud For Dummies.
'Congratulations,' he said, bitterly, 'glad to know that when the chips are down, I can rely on the police to be concentrating on the job in hand.'
Yvonne gave a small laugh.
'You can't fool me with that tough-as shit,' she said, grinning, 'I know remember? Though God knows what she must feel about having you after her. Poor woman.'
His hand rose of its own volition, but Yvonne's own swept up without even a blink and caught it.
'I'm a police officer first,' she said, bluntly, 'I know self-defence and I'm willing to use it even on a one-armed idiot.'
He lowered his arm, mind still blazing, but now felt burned with regret at what he had just tried to do. He muttered an apology. Yvonne laughed and returned his hand to his side.
'Not needed,' she said, 'God knows after my times doing this, I've been a raving bitch too. You need to go home, drink, shout at the walls and then try to sleep. Its not full-proof but it usually works.'
He breathed out a sigh and rubbed his head.
'Funny I was just going to drink,' he muttered.
'Hey that doesn't mean I've totally forgiven you. I should probably be pissed at you for what you did,' said Yvonne, 'but it might have worked.'
Robert rolled his eyes.
'Or I could have got them shot. He was sure as hell going to shot himself,' he said, grimly.
'The latter better than the former and I think that's where he was headed,' said Yvonne, 'you might even get an award.'
He smiled thinly. Yvonne pulled off he regulation bulletproof vest.
'How are the hostages?' she inquired.
'Oh, um, the woman Sarah is fine. She was the one who ended it all actually, but I'm sure you'll hear that at your de-briefing. Martin will probably just have a major headache and nothing else. Jane, um, well up to the transp-'
'And Dr Corday?'
He stared at the floor and shrugged.
'I don't know.'
A hand appeared in front of him. He looked up. Yvonne was smiling. He stared at he hand, then reached out and shook it.
'Good work doc. I mean it,' said Yvonne, 'Oh and you should tell her. Whatever, I mean, you just should. Or it'll end up eating you alive.'
And with that she turned and walked back down the corridor. Robert watched her go, the anger in him damped somewhat. She was right of course, but he didn't know if he would get the chance to now.
A gurney, surrounded by officers, rattled towards him. On the bed he saw the unconscious form of Martin, handcuffed to the sidebars. Time slowed again and anger flared once more. It fired at Martin, the cause, the reason and the centre of all the pain.