That Space In Your Heart

Chapter 8. Good Care





She could hear his voice behind her as she waited for an elevator to take her to surgery. “Lizzie!” he was calling, peremptorily.

Elizabeth willed the unforgiving doors in front of her to open. They opened, but too late: he was behind her, and he said quietly, “Elizabeth.”

For that – for the deepness, for the plainness, when he said her real name – she would turn around, as always.

All the softness she’d looked for in his face last night was there. She had to blink to clear her eyes. It was dangerous, being around him after a long and sleepless night. Made her too emotional.

“So I look like hell to you, do I?” she said, eyebrows raised, after they’d stepped into the elevator.

He cocked his head and admitted, “No, not really – to me, anyway.”

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she said. “But you seem very well-rested. And very satisfied with yourself.”

The elevator door dinged open, revealing the surgical wing. Romano followed her out into the hall, waiting for her to continue.

“You’re not going to answer, then,” she said. “You know you’re an arrogant, egotistical prick?”

Her voice was too loud, she realized that even before Robert glared at her to warn her that people were looking. They ducked into the lounge and closed the door.

“You might want to tone down the affectionate voice in public,” he cracked, standing by the door. He was smirking, now that she was upset.

Elizabeth expelled a slow breath. Her head was hurting too much to allow a brilliant rejoinder. “Why are you following me? Go see Carrie – at least one person in this whole building enjoys your company. And you seem to be able to enjoy hers.”

He paused. “About Mark—”

She slammed her hand down on the counter, furious at him for reminding her exactly why she’d left last night, just when she was about to – to –

“Don’t,” she said vehemently. “It’s done. You’ve said it.”

“I was drunk,” he said in a low voice.

“Of course you were,” she said, and the anger receded, leaving only dizziness and fatigue, “you’d have to be under the influence of some kind of mind-altering substance before you actually talked to me, wouldn’t you?”

Romano’s lips tightened, and his head moved almost in a negation. “Lizzie—”

Pain exploded into fireworks behind her eyes, bursting brilliantly into her vision. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes, her balance disappearing into a weightless floating sensation. She could hear nothing but the blood in her ears, feel nothing but the hard smooth wall behind her.

*

“Lizzie…” Romano said again. He didn’t know how to explain to her, to get through his own habits of dissemblance.

Suddenly he noticed that she was swaying slightly, leaning backwards against the wall, and the hectic colour had deepened in her face. He strode over to her, asking, “Elizabeth? Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes slowly. “Yes. I was just dizzy for a minute. I’m fine.”

He laid a hand on her forehead, and her skin was hot and moist to his palm. “Jesus Christ, you’re so warm,” he said. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m fine.” She ducked away slightly from him, and he let his hand drop to his side. “I have work to do.”

He shook his head. “Let me take your temperature.”

“I’m fine, Robert,” she snapped.

“You won’t get better if you keep trying to work while you’re like this,” he said.

“Your concern is so touching.”

“Come on,” he said, trying to be brusque about it. “Don’t spread germs to all your patients. If you don’t have a fever, you can go ahead and keep working yourself to death. I won’t stop you.”

Elizabeth blinked and gave in. The thermometer he retrieved from a cabinet, which she yanked from his hand and put in her mouth herself, revealed a fever of 104.5º.

“Will you get some rest now? Please?” he said.

She shrugged. “I could use a nap, I suppose.”

He followed her to a nearby, empty room, and she scarcely noticed. Taking a robe out from under the bed, he told her, “Put this on.”

Elizabeth took the robe from him in silence and jerked the curtain shut between them.

When he heard her finish and lie down on the cot, he opened the curtain and walked over to her with businesslike efficiency. Her body seemed to melt downwards, losing all function, and her eyes drifted closed every few seconds in slow, involuntary blinks. He pulled the blankets around her, tucking them gently around the outlines of her body.

“This fever must be the reason I was stupid enough to come see you last night,” Elizabeth muttered sleepily.

He laughed a little. “I’ll have to get you sick more often.”

But she was hardly listening, and her eyes were fluttering closed. Robert couldn’t move away; he stood looking at the pure ivory outlines of her jaw, the beauty of her face – unconventional, but overpowering, even dimmed as it was by illness.

Unconsciously he reached out, smoothing her hair back. “I’m going to go get Carrie’s book for her,” he told Elizabeth, as if she could still hear him. “I’ll be back to see you later.”

*

Elizabeth drifted awake later that night. There was a shape moving around in the room. She could hear it, but it was too dark to see.

“Dr. Corday? You awake?”

She felt a faint shiver of disappointment at the unfamiliar voice. It wasn’t him. “Who’s that?”

“Michael Gallant, ma’am.”

A soft light flickered on, revealing Gallant looking around on the counter. Elizabeth came to the sudden realization that she was lying in a hospital bed and that – surprise of all surprises – Romano was sitting in a chair pulled very close to the bed, dozing. His hand was covering hers, resting on her stomach, and his head was drooped in sleep.

“Robert?” she breathed, shocked.

Gallant shrugged. “He’s been here all night. He wouldn’t let us wake you up, and he wouldn’t leave. Everyone was too scared to go against him. He’s a little intimidating.”

She smiled. “Yeah.” She kind of remembered when she thought he was intimidating. It was a long time ago. Turning her palm upwards, she linked her fingers with the warm, sturdy ones covering them. “Where’s my daughter? I left her in day care.”

“He called your nanny,” Gallant said. “He said you needed to sleep… Are you feeling better?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I just had a bit of a fever. It was nothing.”

“Okay.” He retrieved the clipboard he’d been looking for from the counter and said, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she said.

The door shut, and Elizabeth was free to examine Robert. His face was looser when he slept, quieter, and very close to hers. Her free hand crept around his neck, touching the deep dent at the base of his skull.

His eyes slid half-open, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “Lizzie,” he murmured. “Still alive?”

“Just barely,” she smiled.

He looked down, seeming to notice their linked fingers. “I called your buddy Dorsett,” he said, “but he wasn’t home.”

“You called Eddie?” she said.

Robert shrugged. “I thought you might want to see him, since you’re sick and he’s your…”

She couldn’t help but smile again. Here he’d known the whole time she was seeing Eddie, and he hadn’t been rancorous or even let on he knew. “I’m surprised at your tranquility, Robert,” she said. “I’d’ve expected a little more unreasonable jealousy than that.”

“Gotta grow up sometime, eh?”

Her chest tightened. She almost wanted him to be jealous, the way he had been with the others. “So it doesn’t matter to you?”

Elizabeth waited in trembling suspense for his answer. After a long moment, as he let go of her fingers and sat up straighter, away from her face, Robert said, “Is this the part where the girl waits for the right answer and the helpless, non-telepathic guy has to guess till he gets it right?”

She sat up, too, leaning her back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. And the real Rocket Romano emerges once again… “You’re an utter—”

“—Prick, yes, I know, you’ve said so. Very forcefully.” He smiled lightly at her.

“I sent Dorsett away,” she said. “Last night.” After arriving home from the conference just last night, he’d appeared like magic in her bathroom while she was soaking in the tub. Had said, God damn, you look cute wet, in that flirty way of his, and she’d told him – so abruptly he’d actually lost his cool for about half a second – to go.

“Not for me, I hope,” he said almost blandly.

“Of course, for you!” she snapped.

“Never count your chickens before they hatch,” he said, oddly.

“What?” she said, giving him a confused look.

“Never mind. Look … uh… why don’t I get you some coffee?”

“Robert!” she exclaimed. “Come on. Let me talk to you.”

“Lizzie, if I knew how to prevent you from talking, my life would have been a lot quieter over the past six years.”

“Liar,” she said, half-serious. “You can’t get enough.”

“True. Below the belt, but true.” He was fully serious now, eyes meditative, jaw grim – fingertips trailing a light little curve across the bedcovers, tantalizingly close to her. “You know you’ve got me, Elizabeth. I’m twisted right around that slender little finger of yours. Let’s leave it at that – I’ve had more than my share of serious conversation for tonight.”

“All right,” she said. “No more talking.”

He looked at her in surprise, waiting, all motion suspended. Elizabeth reached out and touched his face, delighting to see him lean against her hand, his lips almost touching her wrist.

Then he pulled back. “Do I need to state the obvious and tell you why this is a bad idea?”

“Yes. Yes, I think you do,” Elizabeth said, getting angry. She was so close – why didn’t he just kiss her – why did she have to fall for someone who was scarred and stubborn and fucked up and difficult as all hell? “Why is it a bad idea when you’ve waited six years for exactly this? I know you, Robert. You’ve been lying in wait, haven’t you? You’ve been watching for the moment you could turn the tables, have me at your mercy – get under my skin and make me lo –”

Midsentence, mid-word, his kiss interrupted her. Crushing his mouth to hers, Robert put his hand behind her neck, pulling her upright, closer to him, his fingers intertwined in her curls. After a startled moment she opened her mouth and kissed him back, putting her arms around him.

“Wait, I’ll get you sick–” she murmured against his mouth.

“Go right ahead,” Robert said, shifting onto the bed as she straightened out underneath him, pulling him closer. The kiss slowed, deepened.

Then the pager on the floor was beeping to the tune of the alphabet. Elizabeth, cursing mentally, twisted away for a moment.

After catching her breath, she said, “That would be my nanny.”

“I’m starting to hate your pager,” he said. “Go on, call her.” He lay down next to her, resting his head on the pillow, so that she could get up, smoothing out her robe as she did so.

Elizabeth looked down at him, drinking in the sight of him stretched out on his back, relaxed and strong at once. Waiting for her. “I’ll just call her quickly,” she said. “She probably just wants to check in with me.”

He winked. “Come back soon?”

“Of course,” she said. “You know both of us always end up coming back.”





the end