Damage Undone
Chapter 3. Bite Your Tongue
Elizabeth turned onto her back to stare upwards at the plain pure white of a plaster ceiling, fighting homesickness. She had forgotten, for a second, in the drowsy moments as she emerged from sleep, that she wasn’t in her own bed.
In her mind she ran back over her conversations with Mark yesterday. She knew how tough she was being on him – and she knew she wasn’t being quite fair. But Mark would never learn how to control Rachel. People who couldn’t draw lines – who couldn’t tolerate real conflict – shouldn’t be raising bratty teenagers.
With effort she raised herself from the pillow, ready for another day. She’d made her choice. Now she needed to follow it through – and whether that would lead to a reconciliation or not, she still wasn’t sure. But she’d traveled this answerless circuit too many times in her head. Forcing herself fully awake, Elizabeth abandoned the dilemma altogether and walked over to Ella’s crib to wake her up.
After dropping Ella off at daycare, she was careful to stay in the surgical wing all day. She didn’t want to see Mark, at least till she was more sure of her decision.
She’d discounted, however, that the only person she wanted to see
less than she wanted to see Mark spent all his time in surgery.
Romano burst into the scrub room while she was preparing for the umpteenth herniated disk of the month. Then stopped, as he saw her. His face was quite a picture – a mixture of embarrassment and – well, glee was the best word to describe it. He must be remembering yesterday.
Well, let him laugh all he wanted behind the silky brown of his eyes. She hadn’t done anything all that terrible. Elizabeth kept scrubbing vehemently.
Saying nothing, Romano took his place at the sink directly next to hers.
He reached for the soap across her, his forearm right in front of her face. Reflexively Elizabeth leaned backwards. “Sorry,” he said, turning on the water.
His arm was close to hers, sending little currents of air against her skin with every movement he made. Lather foamed over his hands, spilling onto the sink, absorbing all his attention and most of Elizabeth’s, too, until he spoke.
“Are you in on my heart transplant this evening?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “My schedule’s been mucked up because of everything that’s going on with Ella.”
“Should be a good one,” he said.
A clear invitation. Was he trying to make up for the awkwardness, or simply make it worse? Whatever he was doing, she needed to ignore it. That, and the suds running down his wrists as he lifted his hands under the faucet. Somehow it fascinated her to reflect on how much more she knew of him than she did two days ago. “…I don’t think so,” she said, looking down. At her own hands.
“I checked the schedule. You have nothing to do.”
He was far too good at these ambush tactics. “I have a herniated disk to repair.”
“That takes an hour at most. This’ll be later.”
“Really, it’s not convenient,” she said firmly. “But thanks for the offer.”
She felt his movements pause, although his hands were covered in soap. “Look, are we – I mean –” He cleared his throat, sounding more awkward than she’d ever heard him. “Are you not going to be able to work with me anymore? Because it’s hardly professional—and what happened wasn’t really a big deal.”
Sure. No big deal. Only that no matter how much she hated him, she couldn’t look at him without remembering how welcome his presence could be. She knew, other than Mark, she’d never have accepted that sort of kindness from anyone else – but she’d never admit that to Romano himself.
She avoided his question. “I
am being professional. I just have other things I need to do – that is, I –” Oh, hell. He could see right through whatever excuses she came up with. She scrubbed more vigorously, till her hands felt raw. “Thanks anyway.”
“I can ask Edson,” he said meditatively. “Probably better that way. Men are so much less moody. Easier to work with.”
“‘Moody’?” she repeated, spoiling for a fight.
“You have to admit, Lizzie, you do blow rather hot and cold sometimes,” he said.
She returned his impudent gaze, but the sticky territory was a bit much for her. “Don’t tell me
you need Dale Edson’s assistance on anything,” she said, switching tacks.
“Just an extra pair of almost competent hands. That’s all I needed from you, anyway.”
She expelled an indignant breath. “Oh, just a pair of hands?”
“His aren’t as pretty as yours, but I think they’ll do,” he said playfully. Then he added under his breath, “For surgery, anyway.”
Hastily Elizabeth looked down, away from his face, only to find her eyes focused not on her scrubbing but his. The fluidity of his hands in motion, skin sliding over oiled, soapy skin. Then clean water, rinsing off the last suds. A few trickles escaped and meandered down his forearm, shivering on his elbow.
“I’ve done transplants plenty of times, thank you,” Elizabeth said crisply. “I don’t need you tossing scraps my way.”
He shook droplets off his hands. A few splattered his cheek, clinging in luminescent beads on his skin, and Elizabeth indicated them with her chin. “Your face is wet.”
“It’ll dry.” He rolled his tongue inside his lips, meditating. “Okay. If you change your mind, you have my number…?” He indicated his pager.
Fuzzily she wondered where she’d heard that before – she had an odd suspicion that he was making some sort of inside joke. “Yeah,” she said uncertainly.
Another decisive flick of his hands, splattering water into the sink, and he breezed away, long coat billowing behind him. Before he left the room Elizabeth thought she heard him chuckle to himself, but he disappeared too quickly for her to be sure.
*
Susan needed to get drunk.
It was quite simple. She knew the feeling. Like the world was sagging at the edges, grayed at the corners.
She’d known the minute she saw Mark stick his tongue out crooked yesterday: the tumor was back. It had taken all she had to keep working through the day – all she could remember was the sight of his tongue poking all the way off to one side, blood swirling in his mouth.
After Susan tested his nerves and suggested an MRI, she hadn’t expected to see Mark till today. But he’d showed up when her shift was over last night, nervous, alone. “Elizabeth’s gone to a hotel,” he said simply. “I don’t want to go by myself.”
“You don’t have to.” He’d never have to, if she could help it.
They didn’t talk as they walked up to neuro. Before Mark left her in the observation room, Susan, forgetting herself in a rush of affection, threw her arms around him for a bear hug. His body was sharp-boned, rigid, in her arms, until he patted her back and leaned into her slightly. An almost feverish heat emanated from him, burning through the flimsy robe. He tried to laugh her off. “Hey, hey, I’m going to the next room, not Arizona.”
Predictably, this being Mark, the joke fell flat. They’d never talked about what happened right before she left, and now was the worst time to bring it up. Susan let go of him and said, “Good luck.”
He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
Susan was still thinking about a long-ago moment at Union Station the next morning, when Carter fell into step beside her, walking down the halls of the ER.
“You seem exhausted,” he said.
“Management,” she explained laconically. “It’s killing me.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Aside from the normal hassles, the competition with Weaver’s gotta be a bitch.”
“I don’t know why I let Romano convince me this was a good idea.”
“You should drink more coffee before you talk to him.”
She laughed, but only a little.
“Dinner tonight?” Carter offered. “I heard of a nice place from my Gamma the other day.”
“Quiet isn’t quite what I need tonight,” Susan said dryly. Millicent Carter’s “nice places” tended to involve fancy dresses and painful shoes. She wasn’t going to put her arches through that tonight.
His face was puzzled.
“Actually, I was going to get together with some of the girls,” Susan said, making up plans as she went along.
“Ah, ladies’ night. Have fun,” he said good-naturedly. “Tomorrow?”
“Sure, why not.” Carter had to be the most casual relationship she’d ever had, and one of the longest-lasting. Odd combination, that.
After recruiting Jing-Mei to join her and Abby at her apartment, Susan returned to work. After her shift, she finally allowed herself a call to Mark’s house from the lounge phone. If she was going to do Weaver’s grunt work, she’d take a few perks while she was at it.
Mark picked up after three rings. “Hello?”
Susan kept her voice low as Chen entered the room to deposit stethoscope and notepad in her locker. “It’s me.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, how are you?”
“Good. Where’ve you been?”
“I don’t start till tonight,” he said.
The door opened again. It was Elizabeth, surveying the lounge with a tired, detached posture. Shit. Susan turned slightly away.
“Did you get your… answer?” she murmured, purposely cryptic.
“No,” Mark said, oblivious to Susan’s problem on the other end. “I’m going to go to New York to see Dr. Burke. But we both know what they’ll tell me.”
“Don’t say that,” she said automatically. Her eyes slid off to the side, met Elizabeth’s, and held fast to the probing blue gaze. “You don’t know for sure.”
“Yeah.” He sighed.
“Good luck, M—okay?”
Elizabeth’s eyes sharpened, narrowed.
“Bye, Susan,” he said softly.
When Susan hung up Elizabeth said, her eyes appraising Susan’s slightly hangdog face, “Susan, have you seen Dr. Kovac? I have an update on his hernia patient.”
“No, sorry,” Susan said.
She shifted her weight, awkward. “Did Mark come in today?”
“I don’t think so,” Susan said.
“I checked earlier—he’s on tonight,” Chen added helpfully.
“Okay.” Elizabeth paused and added rather grudgingly, “Thanks.”
She seemed upset. Susan half-rose as Elizabeth turned to leave. “Elizabeth?”
About to shut the door, Elizabeth paused impatiently. “Yes?”
“How’s Ella?”
The pursed mouth softened just slightly at the question. “Recovering nicely.”
“Is she at day care?”
“The sitter took her to the ho—the sitter took her for the evening. I have paperwork to catch up on.”
“Skip the paperwork,” Susan said impulsively. “Come on over to my place. We were all going to have a few drinks.” She ignored the deterrent winces that Jing-Mei hid from Elizabeth’s view with a conveniently open locker door. Apparently Susan wasn’t the only one who’d crossed swords with Elizabeth.
Surprise covered Elizabeth’s face at this offer of friendship. She didn’t seem to know what to say.
“You seem wiped out,” Susan said. “The paperwork can wait.”
“Actually—” Elizabeth hesitated again, then seemed to make a decision. “I have another procedure, I just remembered.” Her voice was still frosty. “Heart transplant. It’s really too good to pass up.”
“All right,” Susan said, not particularly disappointed. “Have fun.” The distinguishing mark of a surgeon – taking on extra work for the challenge of it. Susan had never done it herself.
*“Did you hear about Corday and Greene?” Edson said as Romano made his incision.
Damn that Edson, he certainly knew his timing. Romano concentrated on keeping the knife steady – he wasn’t sure yet if Edson was purposely pushing his buttons, and anger could wait till this woman’s heart was pumping again. “You mean, their little girl?” He didn’t like the syrupy tone in the other surgeon’s voice – as if Ella were somehow fodder for entertainment. More than that, Romano didn’t like feeling self-righteous himself. It was like breathing cotton candy. “Pickups.”
“No, no, about last night,” Edson said, obeying the curt order. His voice dropped as Shirley lifted an eyebrow, her attention caught. “
She didn’t go home. Went to a hotel.”
Now, that was newsworthy. The air felt clear again – and Romano was having trouble not smirking. “Reeeally,” he drawled.
“Who’d’ve known?” Shirley wondered. “I thought they adored each other.”
“Hah,” said Babcock, emerging from his typical smirky silence. “He’s scared to death of her.”
“That’s enough,” Romano said. Then, covering up in spite of the fact that everyone there already knew his history with Elizabeth, he suggested, “Panties still in a twist because she didn’t think you were smart enough to treat her kid?”
“We might have known this would happen,” Edson said as Babcock subsided huffily. “The biggest wuss at County, plus Queen Elizabeth. It was never going to work.”
“All right, all right,” Romano said. “Don’t forget Dr. Corday is still your superior, Dr. Edson. She may not be pleased to hear—”
The door swung open, and a blue gown and violet scrub cap made their appearance. Romano let his gaze linger on the scrub-clad shape he could have recognized from a mere peripheral glance, before returning to the small matter of the open heart in front of him.
“Speak of the devil,” Babcock muttered under his breath.
“Now, now, quit with the name-calling,” Romano answered. He lifted his voice. “Lizzie. You showed up after all… What a flattering surprise.”
Elizabeth took her place by the table, opposite him. “Do you still need an assist?”
“From you? Always.” He couldn’t resist a bit of flirtation, now that she was a free woman – at least, for the moment.
“How’s it going?” she asked, peering down at the field.
Romano filled Elizabeth in on their progress so far, and she began to work, her hands fluidly joining with Romano’s in competent, effortless harmony. Red blood, slick and warm, covered both their gloves, filled his vision. Elizabeth appeared to be too focused to notice the knowing glances the others were exchanging.
Then Babcock decided to ask, “So, what’s new, Elizabeth?” His meaning was clear in his voice. Elizabeth’s entire body stiffened warily.
Did the words “associate chief” mean nothing to these two? Romano wondered. He had half a mind to fire the little weasel on the spot, or give Elizabeth his blessing to do it herself. “Let’s cut out the small talk,” he said curtly. “Dr. Corday and I have a woman’s heart in our hands. Granted, I’ve met the woman and she isn’t much use to this world as far as intellect goes, but no one dies on my table.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked up to him. He acknowledged her silent thanks, but couldn’t resist a gentle jab. “Finished that hernia, Elizabeth?” he said softly, silkily.
“Yes, this morning,” she said.
“Well, you see, you
did have time,” he said. “More than enough time.”
“I was going to catch up on some paperwork tonight,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s always a tough decision, choosing between an exciting procedure or musty dictations that couldn’t possibly wait another six hours,” he said mildly. Edson and Babcock darted bemused but still gleeful glances at each other, happy to see any dig at Elizabeth even if they had no idea what she was uncomfortable about.
“You had it covered,” she retorted, unfazed. “You said you only needed a competent pair of hands, and Dr. Edson almost fits that description.”
“But you changed your mind?” he prompted, enjoying himself immensely.
He could just see her earlobes turn crimson under the cap. “Well, I… thought the dictations could wait.”
“Glad you came,” he said. “Things are just about to get interesting.”
*
Abby was sprawled on Susan’s couch, her bedcovers still folded in a neat pile on the floor nearby. “Mmm,” she said, eyes drooping. “I needed that.” Her face was still purple and swollen, and her voice was pinched by the swelling in her nose.
“Me too,” Susan said from her perch on the arm of Jing-Mei’s chair. Her body felt light and giddy. She could almost forget about the tumor – almost.
“Oh, hey, you know Carter,” Abby remarked, her voice slurred and languid.
“My boyfriend?” Susan said, sharing an amused little glance with Jing-Mei. “Yes, vaguely.”
“You don’t think he’s better-looking than Luka, do you?” Abby said. “I mean, Luka’s definitely better-looking, right?”
“Should I be insulted?” Susan whispered to Chen.
“Yes, very,” Chen answered, chuckling.
“Right?” Abby demanded again. “…Can I have another beer?”
“Be my guest,” Susan said, gesturing to the refrigerator. They’d already finished off the first two six-packs by then.
“I mean, Luka doesn’t think I’m that pretty,” Abby said as she made her swaying way over to the fridge. “But he has a beautiful accent. It sounds so sweet when he speaks Croatian in bed –of course, I have no idea what he’s saying, but…” She gave an expressive little laugh.
“Oh, my ears,” Jing-Mei whispered plaintively.
Susan’s laugh was half a sigh. “
You gave her that fifth beer.”
“Well, she went ahead and gave herself the sixth,” Chen said, watching as the fridge door slammed shut and another silver can appeared in Abby’s hand.
“Still, Carter gets me. We’re such good friends. He’s sweet, you know?” continued Abby obliviously, plopping back onto the couch and tilting her head back in a long swig.
“I’ve noticed,” Susan said dryly.
“Yeah,” Abby said, suddenly bitter. “I dumped Luka for that rich boy, and look what he goes and does. Finds someone else.”
Chen seemed to be in more discomfort than Susan right now. –Don’t worry, Susan wanted to tell her, –my feelings aren’t that fragile. Then again, maybe it was Chen’s feelings that were fragile. Maybe Carter had three women on his string.
“
You dumped Luka?” Susan said at length. “I thought
he—”
“Well, whatever,” Abby interrupted with an expansive gesture.
“Yeah, same difference,” Susan said amiably. Jesus Christ. Time for a change of subject. “Hey, Jing-Mei, what’s up with you and the X-ray guy?”
“Who? From last week?” Chen said innocently.
Susan laughed. “Just a short term thing, then?”
Jing-Mei shrugged sheepishly. “We saw a movie. Got dinner. —I didn’t call him.”
“I know that game,” Susan laughed.
Chen looked over at Abby, who was quietly finishing off her drink. “I should go,” she said, lifting herself up with effort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They walked over to the door together, stealing glances behind them at Abby.
“She’s going to feel those six beers in the morning,” Susan said, wincing. On top of the broken nose, Abby was in for a bad day.
“Are you worried about her and Carter?” Chen asked quietly.
“Uh…” She tried to rake up a little jealousy, but none was forthcoming. “No, not really.”
Chen gave her a curious look, so Susan added by way of explanation, “I trust him.”
Actually, she just didn’t care anymore.
Chapter 4: Second Chances
