She missed him. Their relationship had been rocky over the past months, well, years, but every so often that conspiratorial wink across a crowded ER had made her feel like there was one person in the world who understood her. And then there were those even rarer moments when he smiled at her, his eyes warm and deep, and she just wanted to melt into the moment with him before it was gone. But he was gone.

She sighed, leafing through the conference program, about to toss it into the trash, when she saw the session title: "New Approaches to Robotic-Assisted Prosthetic Implants." And his name. Maybe she would go to Washington after all...

"The technology might be there, but the costs of building and maintaining these devices is disproportionate to the implied gains to users. And of course if you think about it, with surgeons and engineers involved, the risk of malpractice claims doubles. If you just look at my data from 2003-2004..." a middle-aged man was objecting.

Robert pushed back loudly from the podium, sending it scratching a few feet across the stage. His notes slid down to the floor, but he ignored them and just shook his head in disgust.

"You know, I don't think that these guys really calculated the risks before they went to war to keep lab rats like you and me safe to continue on with our calculations. The risk they didn't count on was your utter lack of gratitude, your total unwillingness to try, to make a real effort to help them, to heal them. They should have factored in your completely self-involved surgeon's idea that if you can't fix it no one can...Forget it!" he finished pushing the last papers off the podium and storming off of the stage.

Elizabeth wanted to catch him, but then again maybe she didn't.

Later that evening she followed the sounds of music and laughter to a rec room in the basement of Walter Read Hospital.

Lovely, never ever change

Keep that breathless charm

Won't you please arrange it

'Cause I love you

And the way you look tonight

The strains of Sinatra became louder as she neared the open door. She peeked in and when she saw him broke into an irrepressible grin. He was dancing. Gliding around the room with a young woman in his arms. Well, there was only one arm involved really and three prosthetic limbs.

Of all of the dancing couples, Robert and the young woman were the most graceful. Their eyes were alight as they smiled at each other. Their feet seemed aloft, toes barely skimming the floor. She noticed his perfect posture, the lines of his arms leading his partner, every so often catchng her up as she stumbled through a step, laughing his encouragement.

At the end of the number, all of the couples fell back breathless and laughing. A few guys sitting along the sides of the room applauded. Someone changed the CD to soft jazz signalling a break and others cracked open cans of coke or bottles of water.

"Hey Doc!" someone called out to Robert and nodded in Elizabeth's direction. "I think someone's looking for dancing lessons."

Robert felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him although he wasn't at all winded from dancing. Elizabeth. Beautiful. Glowing. Warm. Real. There she was, smiling at him from across the room. And suddenly it was like he couldn't make his feet move to go to her. Like in a dream. A nightmare. He swallowed and wiped a hand across his eyes. She was still there. Her smile fading a little. So he pushed himself off across the floor to her. By the time he was there, he'd regained his sure, light step and held out his hand to her as if to invite her to dance. He smiled, warm but ironic.

She grasped his hand and pulled him to her into a hug that brought tears to both of their eyes. The embrace lasted a good, long while, while they both blinked back their unexpected emotions. Finally they pulled back a little, still holding hands with the slightest space between them.

"Hi," he almost whispered.

"Hi," she sighed, grateful for his gentleness.

Robert felt the silence in the room behind him. At least he had been spared any catcalls. He knew his patients were curious about him and his personal life. But he also knew that he had earned their respect by respecting their own privacy. Nonetheless, he decided to quickly curtail any interrogations by turning back to them and waving goodnight before pulling Elizabeth from the room and out towards the closest exit.

"Whew!" she caught her breath after being dragged a little unceremoniously down the hall.

"Sorry," he apologized, "but they've been trained in interrogation techniques. They would have gotten all of my secrets out of you!" he joked.

But I don't really know your secrets, Elizabeth thought. Except maybe one...

"So..." Robert coughed, clearing his throat. "What brings you to Doctor Bob's dance therapy session?" he ended with a smirk.

She laughed appreciatively. "Speaking of secrets, I never knew you were a dancer."

"Oh, I'm very old school. Mother made me take dance lessons. French. Fencing. All kinds of crazy crap. Sometimes the fencing comes in handy, though..." he mused.

Ah. Our sparring... she thought. French? she wondered. I never knew...

"You might've just punched him, you know," she said instead, realizing just as soon that he'd be confused by the non sequitur.

To clarify, she added, "I saw your other performance today. The one at the conference..."

She could see him cringe even in the shadows under the huge oak where they were standing.

"You were right, of course. Self-centered surgeons can't stand the thought that mere engineers could help their precious medical science."

Robert muttered, "Doesn't help to be right when they won't ever change."

"Hey!" Elizabeth encouraged. "You made me think about it. And some others, too, I'm sure. Forget that old coot."

"That old coot is the chief of surgery at Georgetown Medical Center," he shook his head. "Where I wanted to set up the lab for the new project. Damn!"

Elizabeth didn't know what to say. He looked so discouraged.

But then he threw it off, brightened. "Welcome to Washington !" he laughed. "It's all politics..." he slowed. "It's good to see you, Lizzie..."

"You too," she nodded smiling again. "You look..." she looked at him again, taking in his straight stance, broad shoulders, bright eyes "...great."

He didn't need to look at her to respond. "You too."

After a minute of silence, she smiled slyly, "So what's a girl to do on a Saturday night in this town?"

In the tiny restaurant, seated on the floor, he laughed as Elizabeth flushed bright pink at the spicy flavors of the Ethiopian delicacies spread before them. But taking pity, he quickly offered her his bottle of beer to put out the fire.

"Thanks," she sputtered.

"You said you liked it hot..." he half apologized, mostly amused at her guzzling back his drink. But then he got distracted by the movement of her throat as she swallowed, head thrown back, beads of perspiration trickling down her face and clinging to her jawline.

Once she had drained the bottle she clapped it down and grinned. Tearing off another piece of the sour pancake-like bread she boldly dipped back into the spicy stew. "It is tasty!" she declared with a devilish grin. "But we'll need more beer!"

Strolling back to his place along dim, lamplit Georgetown streets, he toyed with the idea of touching her. Just a hand on her waist to guide her. But then he'd have to switch sides since said hand was too far to reach her. Besides, despite a little sway in her walk from the fifth beer, she was steady enough. Although when she stumbled on a buckle in the pavement, she did grab onto his shoulder for balance. And then let go just as soon

When they got to his house, he opened the garage and then the car door. Just a ride back to her hotel. He'd only managed to drink one beer, since she's kept pinching his, so he'd decided to help her walk it off for a bit and then to drive her back himself. He didn't want his tipsy Lizzie at the mercy of a DC cabbie at this hour. Or maybe he just wanted another few minutes with her. Whatever, he thought, nothing's going to happen anyway.

She leaned back into the seat, turned slightly towards him and just gazed at him as he drove through the dark city. So nice to be here, she mused half-drunk still. Her eyes fluttered closed just as they arrived at the Marriott's awning. He shook her shoulder gently.

"Lizzie. We're here."

She stretched and yawned and then shook her head, "I'm so sorry. I fell asleep? I fell asleep." She yawned again.

"It's alright," he joked. "At least you stayed awake through dinner."

"Robert," she objected, "I had a great time!"

"While I set your mouth on fire," he apologized, then grimaced a bit thinking how that had just sounded and hoping that she was too gone to notice that he was staring at her mouth. Oh Christ he thought, wincing, does she think I tried to get her drunk tonight? But he remembered that she'd been stealing his beers.

She reached over and took his hand. "I had a lovely time," she said seriously, looking straight into his eyes, not drunk at all. And then she leaned in and kissed him. Gently. On the mouth. She quickly broke away and darted from the car. She closed the door but then leaned into the open window as Robert's heart slowly returned to its usual steady rhythm. "I'm leaving early, but..."

He shook his head to stop her, put his hand up between them. "Don't, Elizabeth...Just have a safe trip."

And to her surprise he let the car begin to roll away.

But as he drove off, not looking back, he savored the lingering spiciness of her kiss still on his lips, on his tongue...