Carter returned from the staff mailboxes, carrying a handful of memos
and envelopes. He separated his from Erin's and tossed them on the admin
desk in front of her. "Thanks," she murmured as she began sifting through
the pile. John hopped onto a stool next to hers and offered up a warning
in a bemused tone. "Beware! One of those is in Weaver's handwriting.
Betcha anything she's on one of her publishing rants." Erin groaned as she
located the envelope in question and reluctantly broke the seal. She
pulled the letter from inside and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the first
couple of lines, and she groaned again. "I hate research." She continued
reading, but this time, her groan lengthened into an all out whine. She
pounded her head down on the desk, muttering, "Why me?"
"Oh, come on," Mark soothed. "It's not all that bad. You'll get your first article out of the way, one less thing looming over your shoulder. Besides, publishing helps you learn a lot about the kind of doctor you want to be."
"It's not that," Erin said, her voice muffled as her head was still lying on the counter. Jerry pulled the piece of paper from her loose grasp and read over it himself. About halfway through, a guffaw escaped his chest. "Oh, you poor thing," he commiserated before turning to the others. "Weaver assigned Romano as her advisor," he explained. There was a chorus of "oh, man" and "sorry" as Erin slid the paper back into the envelope. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she said uncertainly. At that moment, Dr. Romano emerged from trauma one, barking at the medical team inside. "The next time you page me for a surgical consult, it better be for a patient who MIGHT REQUIRE SURGERY. I don't make ER calls for idiot drunks who smash beer cans into their foreheads, leaving superficial cuts that any nursing student could suture up." He strode past the admin desk to the elevator, pausing only to add, "Dr. Green, since this is teaching hospital, could you please find the time in your busy schedule to actually TEACH these morons how to be doctors?" And then he was gone. John, Jerry, and Mark all turned to look sympathetically at Erin. "I'm gonna kill myself," she whimpered, burying her face in her hands.
A sudden burst if static over the radio caught everyone's attention. Mark picked up the mic and absorbed all of the details about an incoming trauma. "Come on, you two," he called to John and Erin. "Three car MVA rolling in, ETA four minutes." Both of them jumped from their chairs and grabbed drapes and gloves, following Mark into the ambulance bay. They were joined a moment later by Kerry Weaver. "Dr. Windsor, I saw your box was empty. I'm assuming you've read my memo about the liver study."
"Yes, I did, Dr. Weaver."
"Good. This could be a real opportunity for you. The hardest thing to remember when working in an ER is that the practice of medicine continues to evolve outside the department. You'd be well served to learn that lesson early; your career will be much better served." Erin nodded, accepting the lecture with as much grace as she could muster. Mark could see her struggling, and when the first ambulance pulled in, he called out forcefully, "Windsor, you're with me."
Erin hurried past Dr. Weaver, trying not to exude too much relief. "Excuse me."
"You'll need to see Dr. Romano this evening before you leave. The key to making this study as success is finding out exactly what is expected from you up front."
Erin nodded distractedly as she assisted Mark and Doris with pulling the gurney from the rig. Her eyes met Mark's over the patient, and he dropped a gentle wink. She smiled gratefully, even as Kerry's bark followed her inside: "Eight o'clock. Sharp!"
The woman on the gurney was unconscious and bleeding from a scalp laceration. As they wheeled her into trauma two, Mark inspected the cut as Erin absorbed Doris' rapid-fire description of the accident. "Three car pile up on Fifty-five. Patient found unconscious and unresponsive behind the wheel. Scalp lac and possible trauma to the chest from the steering wheel. Pulse weak and thready, BP 100 over 60."
"Got it Windsor?" Mark's voice was encouraging.
"Okay, everybody, on my count," Erin spoke confidently. "One, two, three." They lifted the patient to the bed, and Erin pulled open the woman's blouse. "Visible bruising from the steering wheel," she said as she pressed her stethoscope to the patient's chest. "Reduced breath sounds on the left." She trailed her fingers over the outline of bone. "Broken ribs?" Mark asked, watching her eyes closely. Erin nodded, still concentrating on the woman beneath her. "Yeah," she announced quickly. "She's gonna need a chest tube."
"Do it," Mark instructed, and taking a deep breath, Erin obeyed . After the patient had been taken up to the OR, Mark laid a gentle hand on her wrist. "You handled that great," he complimented. Erin thanked him breathlessly as she snapped off her gloves and pulled off the bloody drape. "And listen," he continued, "about this whole article thing. Don't let Weaver and Romano get to you. It's not their fault they get caught up in the paperwork and the posturing." He paused, considering his words. "Well, maybe it is." Erin laughed, and he smiled. "Try to think of it this way: as long as they are, we don't have to be."
Erin nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Greene." As he walked away, Carter emerged from trauma one. He cocked his head as he caught sight of her, and she walked over to him. "How's your guy?"
"Ahh, we had to call it. Severe head trauma, no response to meds, never had a real pulse."
"I'm sorry," she commiserated. He shrugged, and she started down the hall. "Lunch?"
"You buying?" He asked.
"You still owe me for yesterday!"
"So I'll owe you for today, too." She did not respond. "You know I'm good for it."
She laughed. "All right. Doc's?"
"Sure," John followed her out the door, adding, "Cheapskate."
"Mooch," she shot back.
Later that evening, she rode the elevator up to the surgical floor with a sick feeling in her stomach. She made her way to the surgeon's lounge and pushed open the door. It was empty. She checked her watch. She had been told to meet Dr. Romano at eight; it was two minutes before. She sat down on the couch to wait. Not surprisingly, it was almost eight- thirty before the door swung open and Robert entered the room. "Ahh, Miss Windsor, so sorry to keep you waiting. I had one bitch of a GSW to repair; took a bit longer than expected."
"No problem," she said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She continued speaking as he removed his lab coat and sat down across from her. "I was told to meet up with you about the liver enzyme study. Dr. Weaver assigned you as my advisor."
"Correction," he said sharply. "I requested that Dr. Weaver assign you to this study."
"Really?" Erin wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or frightened.
"Yep. You seem to be the only one in the ER who practices medicine with any common sense lately. And it occurred to me that you and I don't know each other very well." Erin remained silent during his pause, unsure how to respond. When he realized she wasn't going to speak, he continued. "And since it looks like you are going to have a bright future at this hospital, I figured it was time to change that." His words were kind, but his steely gaze and unemotional tone made her nervous. She remembered commiserating with Elizabeth about the harassment she had endured at Robert's hand, the misery he had inflicted on Maggie Doyle; she silently wondered if it was her turn. Raising her chin a bit, she spoke in a business-like manner. "I appreciate the opportunity, Dr.Romano."
There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence that was almost unbearable, but Erin refused to avert her eyes from his. He seemed a bit impressed, but she was unable to revel in the moment. He rose to his feet and began issuing instructions in rapid succession. "I expect to see you in the lab at six a.m. sharp. You'll have two hours to collect the preliminaries before scrubbing in with me at eight. You will be responsible for collecting all the samples and getting them to pathology. You will also be responsible for collecting the path findings on said samples. We will establish the correlations together before we move on to prophylaxis. This is going to eat in to your free time BIG time. We're talking early mornings, late night, even weekends, so tell your boyfriend to either fire up the cold water or order the Playboy channel."
"I don't have a boyfriend," the words came reflexively, and she silently cursed for speaking them aloud.
Robert turned and gave her a slow, deliberate once over from head to toe. "Interesting." he purred. She rolled her eyes, but managed to keep her mouth shut. "Well, that's all for now. Go home and curl up in bed with your teddy bear." He dropped a lascivious wink. "Or whatever keeps you warm at night." Erin felt her cheeks flush even as she turned on her heel. She hurried out of the hospital to her car, flustered and a bit discouraged. "How am I going to make it through this?"
The next morning, Robert Romano strode into the scrub room at eight fifteen. Erin was already there, gloved and gowned, standing rigid so as not to contaminate her person. "Good morning, Dr. Windsor, and how are you today?"
Once again, her mouth spoke before her brain. "On time, Dr. Romano, thanks for asking."
She winced inwardly, waiting for his tirade. But he only laughed, genuinely amused. "Yes, I am running a tad late. Then again, I am the real doctor here, so." He trailed off, leaving her to catch his meaning. She remained silent as he finished scrubbing and prepping for surgery. Once properly attired, he gestured to the door. "Ladies first." Erin bit back a snide retort, and stepped into the OR. Romano followed her closely, making a sudden observation. "Chanel Number Five?"
"Huh?" Erin was caught off guard.
"Your perfume."
"Oh! Uh, yeah," her brow furrowed.
"Very few women can pull that one off anymore," he said lightly. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." She now found herself completely flustered, and said a silent thank you as Dr. Babcock entered the room. The two men were soon blustering away about golf scores and the state of American politics, and Erin was grateful to slip into the background. She remained silent for what seemed an eternity, feeling a great deal like wall decoration until finally, Dr. Romano summoned her to the table. She stepped quickly to his side. "Yes, sir?"
"Nice response, Windsor. Maybe you missed your calling. I could use discipline like that in an OR nurse."
Shirley shot him the evil eye, and he rolled his. "Oh, come on, you know I'm just kidding."
"If you want your sutures in the right place, you'd better be," Shirley warned.
Returning to the business at hand, Romano spoke again. "Dr. Windsor, could you please locate for us the hepatic artery?" He handed her a probe, and she leaned in to trace the appropriate area. "Very good," Romano continued. "Are you prepared to make the draw?"
Erin nodded. "Fifteen gauge needle," she extended her hand, and Shirley placed the syringe on her palm. She leaned in once again as Romano talked her through the procedure. "You're going to draw from the anterior, keeping the needle at a forty-five degree angle." She followed his instructions, acutely aware of his body pressed against hers. Robert sensed her apprehension. "Don't worry, Miss Windsor, I'm not trying to cop a feel. I'm just trying to make sure you don't rupture anything. This man is here for a repair, not a transplant." She ignored him, forcing herself to focus only on the slowly filling syringe in her grasp. When it reached the necessary volume, Romano spoke again. "Lower the needle to ten degrees before withdrawing to reduce the chance of trauma to the artery." She obeyed, and placed the needle on the tray Shirley was holding. Before Robert could speak again, Erin was already asking for the cautery to seal the puncture. "Well, well," he said, his admiration audible in his voice. "Someone did their homework."
This time, Erin could not resist. "You think I'd set foot in here with you if I hadn't?"
Both Dr. Babcock and Shirley laughed at that. "She certainly knows you, Robert."
Erin forced herself to meet Romano's eyes, and her breath stopped as she realized there was no trace of amusement in them. "I hope so," he said, his voice stern. "For instance, I hope she realizes it takes more than just one flash of know-how during one of medicine's easiest procedures to keep my confidence." He let the tension hang in the air as he turned his attention back to the patient on the table. Feeling thoroughly chastised, and knowing her part in the OR was finished, Erin began removing her gown. She collected the syringe as was at the door when his voice pierced the quiet once more. "Then again, there is something to be said for good preparation." She turned back to look at him, and knew his face was still expressionless beneath his mask. But somehow, she tightness in her chest subsided. "I'll just get this to pathology," she said quietly. Robert dismissed her with a barely perceptible nod.
Fourteen similar trips to the OR yielded all the necessary raw materials, and then it was time for data processing. Out of pure frustration, Jerry cleared a two foot spot under the admit desk to house all the paperwork Erin hauled back and forth. Working her regular shifts in the ER was a blessing in disguise - mostly because it forced her to step away from the research in order to treat patients and work in traumas. She managed to blackmail John into helping her organize data and retrieve lab reports.
One evening, she was sitting in the lounge, going blind over a chart review when Mark and Elizabeth entered the room. "Hey," Mark sounded surprised. "I thought you were off an hour ago." Erin dropped the folder into her lap and rubbed her eyes. "So did I." Elizabeth handed her lab coat to Mark and sank down on the sofa next to her.
"How do you do it?" Erin asked her. "How do you work with him every single day and not just.just," she groped for words.
"Not just smack him in the middle of his little bald head?" Elizabeth finished for her.
"YES!"
"He's an insufferable little creep, isn't he?"
"Insufferable, yes, but I have a much better word than creep."
Mark and Elizabeth laughed, exchanging a warm glance. Elizabeth heard Mark's unspoken suggestion and nodded. She rose from the couch and pulled Erin to her feet. "Come on." She removed Erin's lab coat as Mark neatly stacked the clipboards and folders spread across the table. "You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days."
"No, I don't want to intrude." Erin protested weakly.
"Come on," Mark insisted as Elizabeth pulled the young woman to her locker. "We're going to try that new Italian place downtown. We'll split a bottle of Chianti, gorge ourselves on pasta and tiramisu."
"And burn Robert Romano in effigy?" Erin grinned, as Elizabeth nodded emphatically. Mark laughed, and Erin grudgingly collected her things. "Well, okay. But just dinner, and then I'm leaving. And you two can do." she paused for a second, blushing. "Well, whatever it is you were going to do before you came in and took pity on me."
"You sure you don't want to join us for that too?" Mark asked.
"MARK!" Both women spoke in unison.
"What?! We were going to rent Casablanca and Citizen Kane, remember?"
"Oh, come on," Mark soothed. "It's not all that bad. You'll get your first article out of the way, one less thing looming over your shoulder. Besides, publishing helps you learn a lot about the kind of doctor you want to be."
"It's not that," Erin said, her voice muffled as her head was still lying on the counter. Jerry pulled the piece of paper from her loose grasp and read over it himself. About halfway through, a guffaw escaped his chest. "Oh, you poor thing," he commiserated before turning to the others. "Weaver assigned Romano as her advisor," he explained. There was a chorus of "oh, man" and "sorry" as Erin slid the paper back into the envelope. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she said uncertainly. At that moment, Dr. Romano emerged from trauma one, barking at the medical team inside. "The next time you page me for a surgical consult, it better be for a patient who MIGHT REQUIRE SURGERY. I don't make ER calls for idiot drunks who smash beer cans into their foreheads, leaving superficial cuts that any nursing student could suture up." He strode past the admin desk to the elevator, pausing only to add, "Dr. Green, since this is teaching hospital, could you please find the time in your busy schedule to actually TEACH these morons how to be doctors?" And then he was gone. John, Jerry, and Mark all turned to look sympathetically at Erin. "I'm gonna kill myself," she whimpered, burying her face in her hands.
A sudden burst if static over the radio caught everyone's attention. Mark picked up the mic and absorbed all of the details about an incoming trauma. "Come on, you two," he called to John and Erin. "Three car MVA rolling in, ETA four minutes." Both of them jumped from their chairs and grabbed drapes and gloves, following Mark into the ambulance bay. They were joined a moment later by Kerry Weaver. "Dr. Windsor, I saw your box was empty. I'm assuming you've read my memo about the liver study."
"Yes, I did, Dr. Weaver."
"Good. This could be a real opportunity for you. The hardest thing to remember when working in an ER is that the practice of medicine continues to evolve outside the department. You'd be well served to learn that lesson early; your career will be much better served." Erin nodded, accepting the lecture with as much grace as she could muster. Mark could see her struggling, and when the first ambulance pulled in, he called out forcefully, "Windsor, you're with me."
Erin hurried past Dr. Weaver, trying not to exude too much relief. "Excuse me."
"You'll need to see Dr. Romano this evening before you leave. The key to making this study as success is finding out exactly what is expected from you up front."
Erin nodded distractedly as she assisted Mark and Doris with pulling the gurney from the rig. Her eyes met Mark's over the patient, and he dropped a gentle wink. She smiled gratefully, even as Kerry's bark followed her inside: "Eight o'clock. Sharp!"
The woman on the gurney was unconscious and bleeding from a scalp laceration. As they wheeled her into trauma two, Mark inspected the cut as Erin absorbed Doris' rapid-fire description of the accident. "Three car pile up on Fifty-five. Patient found unconscious and unresponsive behind the wheel. Scalp lac and possible trauma to the chest from the steering wheel. Pulse weak and thready, BP 100 over 60."
"Got it Windsor?" Mark's voice was encouraging.
"Okay, everybody, on my count," Erin spoke confidently. "One, two, three." They lifted the patient to the bed, and Erin pulled open the woman's blouse. "Visible bruising from the steering wheel," she said as she pressed her stethoscope to the patient's chest. "Reduced breath sounds on the left." She trailed her fingers over the outline of bone. "Broken ribs?" Mark asked, watching her eyes closely. Erin nodded, still concentrating on the woman beneath her. "Yeah," she announced quickly. "She's gonna need a chest tube."
"Do it," Mark instructed, and taking a deep breath, Erin obeyed . After the patient had been taken up to the OR, Mark laid a gentle hand on her wrist. "You handled that great," he complimented. Erin thanked him breathlessly as she snapped off her gloves and pulled off the bloody drape. "And listen," he continued, "about this whole article thing. Don't let Weaver and Romano get to you. It's not their fault they get caught up in the paperwork and the posturing." He paused, considering his words. "Well, maybe it is." Erin laughed, and he smiled. "Try to think of it this way: as long as they are, we don't have to be."
Erin nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Greene." As he walked away, Carter emerged from trauma one. He cocked his head as he caught sight of her, and she walked over to him. "How's your guy?"
"Ahh, we had to call it. Severe head trauma, no response to meds, never had a real pulse."
"I'm sorry," she commiserated. He shrugged, and she started down the hall. "Lunch?"
"You buying?" He asked.
"You still owe me for yesterday!"
"So I'll owe you for today, too." She did not respond. "You know I'm good for it."
She laughed. "All right. Doc's?"
"Sure," John followed her out the door, adding, "Cheapskate."
"Mooch," she shot back.
Later that evening, she rode the elevator up to the surgical floor with a sick feeling in her stomach. She made her way to the surgeon's lounge and pushed open the door. It was empty. She checked her watch. She had been told to meet Dr. Romano at eight; it was two minutes before. She sat down on the couch to wait. Not surprisingly, it was almost eight- thirty before the door swung open and Robert entered the room. "Ahh, Miss Windsor, so sorry to keep you waiting. I had one bitch of a GSW to repair; took a bit longer than expected."
"No problem," she said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She continued speaking as he removed his lab coat and sat down across from her. "I was told to meet up with you about the liver enzyme study. Dr. Weaver assigned you as my advisor."
"Correction," he said sharply. "I requested that Dr. Weaver assign you to this study."
"Really?" Erin wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or frightened.
"Yep. You seem to be the only one in the ER who practices medicine with any common sense lately. And it occurred to me that you and I don't know each other very well." Erin remained silent during his pause, unsure how to respond. When he realized she wasn't going to speak, he continued. "And since it looks like you are going to have a bright future at this hospital, I figured it was time to change that." His words were kind, but his steely gaze and unemotional tone made her nervous. She remembered commiserating with Elizabeth about the harassment she had endured at Robert's hand, the misery he had inflicted on Maggie Doyle; she silently wondered if it was her turn. Raising her chin a bit, she spoke in a business-like manner. "I appreciate the opportunity, Dr.Romano."
There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence that was almost unbearable, but Erin refused to avert her eyes from his. He seemed a bit impressed, but she was unable to revel in the moment. He rose to his feet and began issuing instructions in rapid succession. "I expect to see you in the lab at six a.m. sharp. You'll have two hours to collect the preliminaries before scrubbing in with me at eight. You will be responsible for collecting all the samples and getting them to pathology. You will also be responsible for collecting the path findings on said samples. We will establish the correlations together before we move on to prophylaxis. This is going to eat in to your free time BIG time. We're talking early mornings, late night, even weekends, so tell your boyfriend to either fire up the cold water or order the Playboy channel."
"I don't have a boyfriend," the words came reflexively, and she silently cursed for speaking them aloud.
Robert turned and gave her a slow, deliberate once over from head to toe. "Interesting." he purred. She rolled her eyes, but managed to keep her mouth shut. "Well, that's all for now. Go home and curl up in bed with your teddy bear." He dropped a lascivious wink. "Or whatever keeps you warm at night." Erin felt her cheeks flush even as she turned on her heel. She hurried out of the hospital to her car, flustered and a bit discouraged. "How am I going to make it through this?"
The next morning, Robert Romano strode into the scrub room at eight fifteen. Erin was already there, gloved and gowned, standing rigid so as not to contaminate her person. "Good morning, Dr. Windsor, and how are you today?"
Once again, her mouth spoke before her brain. "On time, Dr. Romano, thanks for asking."
She winced inwardly, waiting for his tirade. But he only laughed, genuinely amused. "Yes, I am running a tad late. Then again, I am the real doctor here, so." He trailed off, leaving her to catch his meaning. She remained silent as he finished scrubbing and prepping for surgery. Once properly attired, he gestured to the door. "Ladies first." Erin bit back a snide retort, and stepped into the OR. Romano followed her closely, making a sudden observation. "Chanel Number Five?"
"Huh?" Erin was caught off guard.
"Your perfume."
"Oh! Uh, yeah," her brow furrowed.
"Very few women can pull that one off anymore," he said lightly. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." She now found herself completely flustered, and said a silent thank you as Dr. Babcock entered the room. The two men were soon blustering away about golf scores and the state of American politics, and Erin was grateful to slip into the background. She remained silent for what seemed an eternity, feeling a great deal like wall decoration until finally, Dr. Romano summoned her to the table. She stepped quickly to his side. "Yes, sir?"
"Nice response, Windsor. Maybe you missed your calling. I could use discipline like that in an OR nurse."
Shirley shot him the evil eye, and he rolled his. "Oh, come on, you know I'm just kidding."
"If you want your sutures in the right place, you'd better be," Shirley warned.
Returning to the business at hand, Romano spoke again. "Dr. Windsor, could you please locate for us the hepatic artery?" He handed her a probe, and she leaned in to trace the appropriate area. "Very good," Romano continued. "Are you prepared to make the draw?"
Erin nodded. "Fifteen gauge needle," she extended her hand, and Shirley placed the syringe on her palm. She leaned in once again as Romano talked her through the procedure. "You're going to draw from the anterior, keeping the needle at a forty-five degree angle." She followed his instructions, acutely aware of his body pressed against hers. Robert sensed her apprehension. "Don't worry, Miss Windsor, I'm not trying to cop a feel. I'm just trying to make sure you don't rupture anything. This man is here for a repair, not a transplant." She ignored him, forcing herself to focus only on the slowly filling syringe in her grasp. When it reached the necessary volume, Romano spoke again. "Lower the needle to ten degrees before withdrawing to reduce the chance of trauma to the artery." She obeyed, and placed the needle on the tray Shirley was holding. Before Robert could speak again, Erin was already asking for the cautery to seal the puncture. "Well, well," he said, his admiration audible in his voice. "Someone did their homework."
This time, Erin could not resist. "You think I'd set foot in here with you if I hadn't?"
Both Dr. Babcock and Shirley laughed at that. "She certainly knows you, Robert."
Erin forced herself to meet Romano's eyes, and her breath stopped as she realized there was no trace of amusement in them. "I hope so," he said, his voice stern. "For instance, I hope she realizes it takes more than just one flash of know-how during one of medicine's easiest procedures to keep my confidence." He let the tension hang in the air as he turned his attention back to the patient on the table. Feeling thoroughly chastised, and knowing her part in the OR was finished, Erin began removing her gown. She collected the syringe as was at the door when his voice pierced the quiet once more. "Then again, there is something to be said for good preparation." She turned back to look at him, and knew his face was still expressionless beneath his mask. But somehow, she tightness in her chest subsided. "I'll just get this to pathology," she said quietly. Robert dismissed her with a barely perceptible nod.
Fourteen similar trips to the OR yielded all the necessary raw materials, and then it was time for data processing. Out of pure frustration, Jerry cleared a two foot spot under the admit desk to house all the paperwork Erin hauled back and forth. Working her regular shifts in the ER was a blessing in disguise - mostly because it forced her to step away from the research in order to treat patients and work in traumas. She managed to blackmail John into helping her organize data and retrieve lab reports.
One evening, she was sitting in the lounge, going blind over a chart review when Mark and Elizabeth entered the room. "Hey," Mark sounded surprised. "I thought you were off an hour ago." Erin dropped the folder into her lap and rubbed her eyes. "So did I." Elizabeth handed her lab coat to Mark and sank down on the sofa next to her.
"How do you do it?" Erin asked her. "How do you work with him every single day and not just.just," she groped for words.
"Not just smack him in the middle of his little bald head?" Elizabeth finished for her.
"YES!"
"He's an insufferable little creep, isn't he?"
"Insufferable, yes, but I have a much better word than creep."
Mark and Elizabeth laughed, exchanging a warm glance. Elizabeth heard Mark's unspoken suggestion and nodded. She rose from the couch and pulled Erin to her feet. "Come on." She removed Erin's lab coat as Mark neatly stacked the clipboards and folders spread across the table. "You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days."
"No, I don't want to intrude." Erin protested weakly.
"Come on," Mark insisted as Elizabeth pulled the young woman to her locker. "We're going to try that new Italian place downtown. We'll split a bottle of Chianti, gorge ourselves on pasta and tiramisu."
"And burn Robert Romano in effigy?" Erin grinned, as Elizabeth nodded emphatically. Mark laughed, and Erin grudgingly collected her things. "Well, okay. But just dinner, and then I'm leaving. And you two can do." she paused for a second, blushing. "Well, whatever it is you were going to do before you came in and took pity on me."
"You sure you don't want to join us for that too?" Mark asked.
"MARK!" Both women spoke in unison.
"What?! We were going to rent Casablanca and Citizen Kane, remember?"