"The Dance We Do" Gap-Filler

By: Lori (SixteenOzs)

DISCLAIMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within are the property of Warner Brothers Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant c Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. The stories presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is not making a profit.

SUMMARY: Continuation of "The Dance We Do."

Feedback is welcome. Please send all questions, comments or criticisms to SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

RATING: NC-17 THIS STORY CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 17. Please do not continue reading if you are offended by graphic scenes depicting consensual heterosexual intercourse. Click here to return to the Main Page.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to thank Jen, Ros, Cari and Alicia for all of their help in looking over the drafts of this story and giving me such great feedback. Thank you all so much!

Mark slouched in the deck chair, staring at the night sky. He could hear the El rumbling through in the background. It was cool, but not too cold. He thought that was odd for this time of year. Frequently, there would already be a thick blanket of snow covering the city. As much as he complained about it, there was a part of him that loved Chicago in the winter. He liked actually having seasons, instead of just the endless summer he knew in San Diego.

From below, a British voice called, "Mark?"

He sat up, his introspection coming to an end. "I'm up here."

Elizabeth slowly walked up the stairs and stepped onto the deck. Softly, she wondered, "What are you doing?"

Sitting up straighter, he replied, "Just thinking." Noticing how weary she looked, he carefully inquired, "How'd it go?"

"Terribly," she whispered.

"What happened?" he asked in concern.

Elizabeth looked around, then sat on the bench next to the railing. Folding her arms across her knees, she hunched over into a ball.

He waited, but she didn't reply. Gently, he prompted, "What? What is it?"

Still staring at the deck floor she began to explain, "I lied. I lied. The fact is I rushed. I rushed through and didn't inspect the entire surgical field. That man will never walk again because I wanted to get out early for the weekend. And I-I couldn't even claim responsibility. I sat there, and I swore to God, and I lied to save myself." Her disappointment in herself was obvious in her voice.

A slightly rueful smile crossed his face as he tried to think of an appropriate response. Finally, his voice thick with emotion, he said, "God owes us one. I think you're allowed to be selfish for a while."

She watched him and shook her head. Turning away, a despondent expression crossed her face. A moment later, she looked back to him, almost as if she could sense there was something he needed to tell her.

He pulled his chair closer to her, and just watched her as he took her hands in his. She was so beautiful. He couldn't help but smile slightly as he tried to memorize that moment, because he knew what he was about to tell her would change everything forever. His voice breaking, he slowly began to explain. "I didn't run into a street sign. I had a biopsy."

He paused for a moment, trying to soften the upcoming blow by allowing her to absorb that first. Her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes searched his as the shock began to register on her face. He hesitated, but then continued, "Those, uh, headaches weren't from hockey. They were from a brain tumor, glioblastoma multiforme."

Without even thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, never wanting to let go. She tried to convince herself that this couldn't really be happening. Even with her lawsuit, everything had been so wonderful between them lately. First the house, then the engagement and now the baby. It was everything she'd ever wanted, but none of it would mean a thing without him.

No. She wasn't going to think like that. She wasn't going to lose him. There was no way she was going to let that happen. They were both doctors, so they would just have to use anything and everything available to fight this. Glioblastoma multiforme. It had been some time since she'd done any work in neurology; but from what she could remember, and from the look in Mark's eyes, she knew it wasn't good.

She finally pulled back slightly so that she could look at him. Gently caressing his cheek, she asked, "How long have you known?"

"I, um, I found out about the tumor about two weeks ago, but I didn't get the biopsy results until this morning," he explained hesitantly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked plaintively.

As he looked at her, sorrow filled his eyes. "I went for an MRI on Thanksgiving day. I was with a patient, and suddenly I couldn't talk. We found it then. I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how I was going to tell you. After you told me about the baby, I just couldn't do it. You were so happy, I couldn't destroy that for you." He stopped for a moment. "You've been anxious about this deposition and the whole malpractice suit. I didn't want you to have to worry about something else until I knew what this was."

She smiled softly as she concluded, "So you were just trying to protect me?"

"Something like that," he nodded with a weak smile.

"Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"That you won't keep anything like this from me again," she requested in a whisper.

"I won't, I promise," he nodded seriously.

"What, um, what's the prognosis?" she asked, even though she was certain she didn't want to hear the answer.

"It's a three-point-five centimeter mass in the frontal cortex," he said quietly, wishing for any way to make this news easier, but he knew there was none. "Without treatment, I've got eight weeks. With radiation, six to nine months."

She drew in a sharp breath. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but nothing that grave. Nine months? That would be just weeks after the baby was born. No. There had to be other options.

"What about surgery?" she questioned after a moment.

He shook his head slightly. "The neurosurgeon said it's inoperable. The tumor's invaded Broca's area. Even if I consented, he said he wouldn't operate."

"Did you get a second opinion?"

"Two neuro-specialists reviewed the biopsy. They both said the same thing," he replied grimly.

"No," she corrected, "what about another neurosurgeon?"

"What's the point?" he asked bitterly. "To hear the same bad news again, from a different neurosurgeon in a different office?"

She stared at him. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this dejected before. That scared her, possibly even more than the though of losing him. She knew that if he had given up, if he had lost hope; then in a way, she'd already lost him.

"There is a point, Mark," she said firmly. "He could be wrong. There could be another doctor with a new procedure or a clinical trial you could get into. There have to be other options."

He looked away and stared out at the skyline behind the deck. He wanted to believe her, but he didn't think he could handle it if he got his hopes up, only to realize he was right the first time.

Reaching out, she gently turned his face so that he was looking at her again. "We're going to fight this, Mark. I need you too much, and so does this baby."

He sighed. More than anything else, even the thought of dying, that's what he'd been unable to get off of his mind all day. He was letting Elizabeth, and their child, down. He was going to abandon them, and there was nothing he could do to make up for that.

"What are you thinking?" she wondered quietly.

As he watched her, the only thing he could think to say was, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she questioned. "This isn't your fault."

"You had the day from hell with the deposition. You came home, expecting to relax, and I had to add all of this," he said in a soft, apologetic tone. "I'm supposed to be helping you through this, but instead I'm adding to it."

"No," she correctly gently, "you just made me realize that, for the first time in my life, there's something more important to me than my career. And that is a good thing."

He drew in a deep breath, then finally admitted, "I'm scared, Elizabeth."

"I know," she whispered, using her thumb to gently caress the back of his hand, "but we're going to get through this. I promise."

"I hope you're right," he said with a gentle sigh.

She smiled. "Haven't you figured out by now that I'm always right?"

He had to laugh. "I guess I should have figured that one out by now, huh?"

"Yeah, you should have," she nodded with a grin. She hesitated a moment, then more seriously wondered, "Does anyone at work know?"

"Just Carter," he replied.

"Carter?" she questioned curiously. If he'd told anyone at the hospital, she assumed that it would have been Kerry.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I, um, I had a seizure in the ER this morning."

"What?!" she demanded.

"It wasn't that serious," he assured her. "Carter was there, he pushed some Ativan and got it under control. When I came to, he wanted to send me for a CT, but I stormed out of the trauma room, telling everyone I was fine. Carter found me shooting hoops later, and I finally told him."

"What about Kerry?" she wondered, knowing he'd have to tell her as she was Chief of the department.

"I'll probably tell her when I hand in my resignation," he said dejectedly. "Who knows? Maybe Romano will ease up on you once I quit."

"What do you mean? Resignation?" she asked in confusion.

He looked at her as if it should be obvious. "I had a seizure this morning while I was standing in the trauma room, talking to Carter. There's nothing to say it won't happen again, and I have no idea when that might be. I can't take the chance that I'll start seizing in the middle of a procedure or trauma. There's too much at stake."

"That doesn't mean you have to quit," she pointed out.

"If I stay, I wouldn't be able to do any trauma, very few, if any, procedures. I'd be doing nothing but minor medical, sore throats and ear infections. If I'd wanted that, I would have gone into family practice when Jen was harping on it," he said bitterly.

"But wouldn't light duty for a while be better than sitting around here, driving yourself crazy with nothing to do?" she suggested. Being a doctor meant too much to him, she knew there was no way he could give that up so easily.

"I don't know," he said with a heavy sigh.

She watched him for several moments, wishing there was something more she could do for him at that moment, wanting to promise him that everything would work out and that he'd be fine. The only problem was that she wasn't certain of that herself. With a sigh, she wearily rubbed her eyes. She'd never felt so helpless before. All of her adult life had been spent helping other people. She was a surgeon, and that's what surgeons did. Only now, the one person she cared about most in the world had an inoperable tumor, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

Just wanting to recapture some sense of normalcy in their lives, if only for the evening, she finally wondered, "Have you had dinner yet?"

"I haven't felt like anything since breakfast," he admitted. "How about you?"

"I had a hot dog for lunch during our break, which someone promptly rejected," she explained with a wry smile.

"Morning sickness still bad?" he asked in a concerned tone.

She chuckled softly. "Only in the afternoons."

"Just a few more weeks," he said sympathetically.

"I know," she smiled. "Want to head inside and fix dinner?"

"Sure," he nodded as he stood up and reached for her hand.

Ever since he'd gotten the biopsy results that morning, all he had thought about was the tumor and how he was going to tell Elizabeth. But for now, he just wanted to forget about that for a while, and have dinner with his fiancée. Most importantly, he wanted to see how she was handing the aftermath of the deposition. Even though he knew he may be dying, that wasn't going to prevent him from worrying about Elizabeth and their child.

"We're going to get through this, Mark," she reminded him once again as she picked up her bag, then stood and slipped her arm around his waist.

Not completely trusting his voice, he just nodded mutely as they started down the stairs. Entering the kitchen, he asked, "What do you want for dinner?"

She thought for a moment, then replied, "How about chicken?"

"Okay," he said as he took off his coat and placed it over one of the chairs. "You want to go up and change while I get everything started?"

"If you don't mind," she smiled.

"Of course not," he replied as he gave her a quick kiss. "Go."

"Okay," she nodded as she picked up his coat and headed toward the closet in the front hall.

After changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater Elizabeth returned to the kitchen. "So, what are we having with the chicken?" she wondered as she leaned over Mark's shoulder.

"Broccoli with pine nuts and wild rice," he answered while stirring the rice.

"Sounds wonderful," she smiled. "Want me to make a salad?"

"Sure," he nodded. Watching her for a few moments, he finally wondered, "Want to talk about the deposition?"

She looked up from the carrots she was slicing. "I lied under oath. What else is there to say?" she asked flatly.

"What was the question the attorney asked you?" he wondered as he stepped over to the island where she was working, then picked up a knife and began to help with the salad.

She sighed heavily. "Whether I performed a thorough inspection, looking for CSF leaks, before I closed."

"And what did you say?" he prompted.

"'Yes,'" she replied quietly.

"Do you know what I think?"

"That I'm a vile, despicable human being?" she suggested.

"No," he answered firmly. "I think you're an excellent surgeon. I think you've done this procedure dozens of times, that it's almost second nature to you. You know what do, and you do it, even if you don't consciously think about it."

"I don't remember looking, Mark," she admitted quietly. "I was thinking about getting out there, leaving by six, just wanting some time away from the hospital, alone with you. I don't remember checking for a CSF leak."

"But you don't know that you didn't look, do you?" he questioned.

"I suppose not," she said with a soft sigh. "But I'd still feel a lot better if I knew for certain that I looked."

"Elizabeth, there's one thing you can't forget in all of this. You're human. I know that if we make mistakes, the stakes are higher, but we're still human and no matter how hard we try, we're not perfect. All you can do now is learn from this and move on," he pointed out gently as he moved closer to her and began to rub her back.

"That's not going to be easy, is it?" she wondered softly as she looked up at him.

"Probably not," he admitted, "but I know you. And I know you can do anything you set your mind to."

She considered this for several moments, "I hope you're right."

"I am," he promised as he kissed her gently on the forehead.

She smiled weakly. "Come on, let's finish this salad."

"Okay," he nodded as he stepped back around to the other side of the island.

They worked in a companionable silence for the next half-hour or so, each lost in their own thoughts of the day.

When the oven timer went off, Mark said, "Why don't you set the table, and I'll get the chicken?"

"Sure," Elizabeth nodded as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed a few moments later.

"What is it?" she questioned anxiously as she looked in his direction.

"Burnt my hand on the stove," he explained with a sheepish expression.

Walking over to the sink, she turned on the faucet, then said, "Come here. Run some water over your hand, and I'll get the chicken."

"Yes, Doctor," he replied with a sarcastic grin.

"Fine, don't listen to me," she retorted as she pulled on oven mitts. "I just don't want to hear you complaining about how much that hurts."

He laughed, then winced slightly as the water hit his hand.

After removing the baking dish from the oven and sitting it on the counter, she turned to Mark and wondered, "You okay?"

"Yeah, it just stings," he nodded. Glancing at his hand, he added, "Nothing major, only first degree."

"Good," she commented dryly. "We wouldn't want you being a patient in your own ER twice in one day."

He stared at her for a moment, then flatly replied, "It's not my ER."

She sighed heavily as she watched him, but remained silent as she took two plates out of the cabinet.

After turning off the tap, Mark reached for a couple paper towels and tried his hand. "I'll set the table. What would you like to drink?"

"Water's fine," she replied absently.

Five minutes later, Elizabeth was absently picking at her food. Finally, she wondered, "Just so I know, have you already given up? Have you already resigned yourself to thinking that this is going to kill you?"

He considered his reply for several moments. "Well, we've all got to die sometime, right?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't even try to hide the disappointment from her eyes as she slowly stood up and carried her plate to the sink. Without a word, she scraped the contents into the garbage disposal then placed the plate in the dishwasher before walking towards the stairs.

He sighed as he realized the mistake he'd just made. Acting jaded may have worked around Carter, but it was only turning into a disaster here. Standing up, he called after her, "Elizabeth?"

"Not right now," she replied, her voice tight, as she slowly began to ascend the stairs without looking back.

He watched her leave, then sighed heavily as he placed his palms on the table and hung his head. Nothing he'd ever done before had been this hard. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. Maybe he was trying to distance himself from her, thinking it would make things easier when it came time for the inevitable. Shaking his head ruefully, he realized what a mistake that was. He loved her too much, and hated to see her in pain. Not to mention that she was too damn stubborn to let him push her away. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her, but he couldn't see a way around that this time.

With another sigh, he picked up his plate and walked to the sink. After disposing of his dinner, he added the plate to the dishwasher, placed the leftovers in the refrigerator, then began to wash the dishes.

Finishing the dishes, he looked around the kitchen one last time, locked the doors, turned off the lights, then headed for the stairs. Reaching the landing, he noticed the door to his left was closed. It lead into the extra bedroom they were using as a study. Crossing the hall, he stopped outside the door and could hear her soft sobs from inside. He cursed himself, knowing that he caused her anguish.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but stopped. Nothing he could say at that moment could take away her pain. He'd love to be able to promise her that he'd always be there, that together they'd find some way through this mess, but he honestly didn't see how that was possible. The last fifteen years of his life had been spent in medicine. He knew enough to know that this tumor was bad, very bad. Even with a second opinion or a clinical trial, he'd get a few more months at best, months he may not even be able to enjoy. As far as he could see, the sooner he accepted that, the easier things would be.

Who was he kidding? Nothing about this was easy. He was going to be leaving her, and their child. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. He rested his open palm on the door for a long moment before he swallowed hard to push back the lump in his throat, then slowly walked down the hall towards their bedroom.

After going into the bathroom for Tylenol, with the hope that it would ease the ache in his head, he laid down on the bed in the darkened room and slowly closed his eyes.

Elizabeth could feel her body tremble as she began to climb the stairs. Stopping at the landing, her first instinct was to go towards their bedroom, but she stopped and went into the study instead, closing the door behind her. She just couldn't face their bedroom alone at that moment.

She sighed as she crossed the room to the window and leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms across her chest, staring outside. Was it really just four days ago that she'd been up here, thinking of what it would be like to watch their son or daughter playing in the backyard? She'd been trying to review the file and her notes regarding Mr. Patterson the previous Sunday, but her mind just kept straying, daydreaming of what their child would be like.

Even with the malpractice suit, she'd been so happy the past few weeks knowing that she was carrying Mark's child. She'd been more than a little surprised upon first learning she was pregnant, but now, it just felt right. And that was because she was able to share it with him. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears.

Damn it! It wasn't fair! They'd been through so much in the last year. Mark lost his mother, then Lucy, then his father's battle with cancer and ultimate death. They were finally moving past that. They were getting married, having a baby. It was wonderful, but now this...

Sitting down in the chair next to the window, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She didn't want to lose him, she needed him too much. She could feel the tears building within her, and she finally surrendered. The tears began to flow freely down her face and her body soon began to shake beneath the weight of her sobs.

The tears finally subsided, but she didn't move to get up. She rested her cheek against her leg, curling tightly into a ball. She was scared. For the first time she could remember, she was truly terrified. She'd never opened herself to anyone as she had to him, she trusted him completely. Even though she didn't want to think about it, there was now a very real possibility that she could lose him, that he may never get to know their child.

Placing her hand on her abdomen, she drew in a shaky breath. Slowly, she was filled with an unexpected and inexplicable feeling, connecting her to both Mark and their child. That feeling fueled her resolve as she softly, yet firmly, whispered, "No. I'm not going to let that happen. Your daddy is going to be here to watch you grow up, because we're not ready to let him go."

With a new sense of determination, Elizabeth used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears from her face. She stood up and drew in a deep breath as she walked over to the desk. Sitting down, she turned on the computer and a small lamp sitting in the corner.

Nearly three hours later, Elizabeth sat back in her chair and drew in a deep breath as she stretched her arms above her head. She'd searched the Internet and the hospital's databases for any and all articles and clinical trials she could find on GBMs.

While the bulk of her findings clearly indicated the gravity of the diagnosis, there were a few articles that offered her hope. At that moment, she clung to that hope; knowing it was all they had, and that it was probably the best point from which they could start.

But even with that hope, she was still worried. She wanted answers, details on the diagnosis, the prognosis, treatment options, survival rates. Unfortunately, she knew it was doubtful she'd receive any of those answers tonight. Yet there was one thing that just might serve to ease at least a bit of her anxiety.

She stared at the phone for several long moments, debating whether or not to pick it up and dial, before finally reaching for the receiver.

"Hello?" a sleepy male voice answered a minute later.

"Daddy, it's me," Elizabeth said softly.

"Elizabeth? It's almost four in the morning here. What's wrong?" Charles Corday inquired quickly, knowing it was unlike his daughter to call at such an odd hour unless there was a serious problem.

"Daddy, I need your help," Elizabeth began to explain quietly.

"What is it?"

She drew in a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Tonight, when I came home, Mark told me that he's been diagnosed with a brain tumor."

"My God," Charles replied. As the shock began to wear off, he asked, "How bad is it?"

"Bad, very bad," Elizabeth admitted, desperately trying to keep her voice even. "It's... it's a three-point-five centimeter mass in the frontal cortex. From the biopsy, it was determined to be a GBM, glioblastoma multiforme."

"And the prognosis?" Charles asked.

She cursed inwardly as she once again felt the tears building in her eyes. After a moment, she softly said, "The neurosurgeon said six to nine months with radiation therapy, eight weeks without it."

Charles drew in a deep breath. Even though he'd never met him, Charles knew how important Mark was to his daughter, just from the way Elizabeth talked about him. From the pain that was evident in her voice, Charles also knew that he could only imagine how difficult this was for her. Finally, he wondered, "What about surgery?"

"The doctor said the tumor has invaded Broca's. Even if Mark consented, he wouldn't operate," she explained sadly.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, hoping he could help in some way.

"You're friends with Edward Raleigh, the neurosurgeon in London, right?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yes," Charles confirmed. "We went to medical school together, and have remained friends ever since. Would you like for me to speak with him?"

"Yes, please," she replied quickly. "I've done some research, and it looks as if there are developments in treatment options. I'd like to know more about those, but what I'm really looking for is any information on studies or clinical trials, here or in London."

"I'll see what I can do," Charles promised his daughter.

"Thank you, Daddy," Elizabeth whispered softly.

Charles thought about what Elizabeth had told him for a few moments, then asked, "You said Mark told you about the tumor tonight?"

"That's right," she said with a nod. "He was out on the deck, waiting for me, when I got home."

"But he'd undergone a biopsy and had received the results?"

Elizabeth sighed as she realized the point her father was trying to make. What was it with the men closest to her? Always feeling as if they had to protect her. First, Mark not telling her about the tumor because he didn't want her to worry. And now, her father worrying about why Mark didn't tell her immediately.

"Mark first found out about the tumor about two weeks ago. He had a biopsy, and got the results today," she explained.

"He waited this long to tell you?" Charles questioned suspiciously.

"He was trying to protect me. He didn't want me to worry," Elizabeth replied quietly.

"What do you mean? He had to know that you would find out eventually, and that waiting would only make it harder," Charles reasoned.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. She knew she was going to have to tell her father about the pregnancy sooner or later, she'd just sort of been hoping for later. She wasn't certain of what his reaction would be, especially since she and Mark weren't yet married.

She'd already decided that she wasn't going to tell her father about the malpractice suit unless she absolutely had to. She knew he would be disappointed in her, she was certainly disappointed in herself; and she just couldn't deal with that now, on top of everything else.

"Daddy, there's something else I need to tell you," she began hesitantly.

"What is it?" he prompted.

She drew in another deep breath, then said, "You're going to be a grandfather."

Several moments passed before Charles spoke. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed. "That's why Mark didn't tell me about the tumor. With the baby, he didn't want me to worry until he knew exactly what he was dealing with."

"How far along are you?" Charles inquired.

"About eight weeks. I found out near the end of November, the same day Mark first learned of the tumor actually," she said sadly.

"Mark knows about the baby?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded. "I told him that night, as soon as I got home. Tonight, when I asked him why he didn't tell me about the tumor sooner, he said he could tell I was so happy about the baby and he just couldn't ruin that for me. He wanted me to enjoy that as long as I could."

"How are you holding up?" Charles asked gently.

Her jaw trembled as a few tears slipped down her face. "I'm terrified, Daddy. I am so afraid Mark will never be able to know our child," she admitted as her voice broke. "I feel like I'm being asked to trade his life for the life of our baby. And I don't want to lose either one of them."

Charles sighed heavily. He hadn't even realized that. The baby was due in about seven months, and the doctor had given Mark six to nine months. "Elizabeth, is there anything I can do? Would you like me to come to Chicago?"

She considered that for several moments. "You don't need to come to Chicago right now, I'll be okay. Just see if you can find anything that may help Mark."

"I will. I'll call Edward first thing this morning. I'll also check with a few other neurosurgeons I know, to see if they may know anything," he assured her, "Where's Mark now?"

"I think he's resting," Elizabeth said, regretting the fact that she honestly didn't know what Mark was doing at the moment.

"It's getting late there. You should get some rest, too," he suggested.

"I will," she assured him. "I'm sorry I called you so early."

"Don't worry about it," Charles insisted. "I want you to know that you can call me anytime."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said sincerely. She hesitated a moment, but then wondered, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

She drew in a deep breath, then nervously asked, "What do you think about the baby?"

He thought for a moment or two, then said, "I'm very happy for you, Elizabeth, and for Mark. I just wish you two were going through this under better circumstances."

"So do I," she admitted softly. "Are you upset that we're not married?"

"No," Charles smiled. "You're engaged, you're obviously very much in love, and very committed to one another. I think that's most important. I think the wedding may just be a technicality, but a technicality I would still like to see take place one day."

Elizabeth had to laugh. "I haven't talked to Mark, especially after what happened today, but I want to be married when the baby is born."

"Just tell me when and where, and I'll be there," Charles reminded her.

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, Darling. I'll call you as soon as I find out anything."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I think I'll most likely take off tomorrow, so you can try the house first."

"Sure. Get some rest, Elizabeth."

"I'll try. Bye, Daddy."

"Goodbye," Charles said softly as he hung up the telephone.

Elizabeth placed the receiver back in the cradle, then propped her elbows on her desk and buried her face in her hands. From what she'd already seen, she knew Mark's attitude was precarious at best. It was going to be up to her to make sure he didn't give up, that he continued to fight this with everything possible.

But at the moment, she wasn't sure where she was going to find the strength for that battle. With the malpractice suit, the morning sickness and now this. She sighed. How much more could she be expected to endure?

She was so tired. The last time she could remember feeling even close to this exhausted was the morning she came home after Lucy died. For a brief moment, her mind strayed, wondering what it would feel like to come home; to their house, with their child, after Mark's death. Shuddering, she quickly pushed that thought away. She wasn't going to think about that. She couldn't.

With a heavy sigh, she realized that the best thing she could probably do at the moment would be to take a long hot shower to help her relax, then try to get some sleep. She hoped Mark was already asleep. While she knew there was a lot they still needed to talk about, she just wasn't ready for that tonight.

She slowly turned off the computer and the lamp, then left the study, heading for their bedroom. A slight smile reflexively crossed her face as she opened the door and found Mark asleep on the bed. She bit her lip as she watched him. Although he was asleep, he looked tired, even tense. She knew this wasn't easy on him, that he was feeling guilty for what this would do to her, and the baby. That was what made her all the more determined to do everything in her power to help him.

Crossing the room to the closet, she retrieved a blanket from the top shelf, then walked back to the bed and covered him with it. She let her hand brush over his cheek and linger there for a moment before turning away.

Mark opened his eyes and reached for her arm as he said, "Hi."

Elizabeth flinched in surprise as she turned back to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't really asleep," he admitted as he sat up on the bed.

"You feeling okay?" she wondered carefully.

He shrugged. "Just a headache."

"Mark?" she questioned with concern.

"It's nothing serious," he assured her. Smiling weakly, he added, "Just the usual. I actually think I'm getting used to it."

She bit her lip, but didn't say anything.

"I was, I was actually wondering if we could talk," he said rather hesitantly.

If their earlier conversation in the kitchen was any indication, she was afraid she already knew how this would result. Sighing, she shook her head. "Mark, I don't want to fight. Not tonight. I just want to take a shower and go to bed. Can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Can I at least apologize tonight?" he wondered softly.

She stared at him for a moment. He definitely had her attention. She followed his eyes as he looked from her to the spot on the bed in front of him. Without a word, she sat down and waited for him to continue.

He drew in a deep breath. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry for the way I acted at dinner. I'm not going to give you an excuse, because there isn't one. I just want you know that I am sorry." He stopped, and seemed to debate with himself before continuing. "I know things aren't going to be easy, and they'll probably get a lot worse. So, if you want, I'll leave now. You can stay here in the house, and I'll make sure the mortgage is taken care of."

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. Finally finding her voice, she whispered, "Please tell me you're not serious."

He tried to look at her, but the pain in her eyes was too much for him to bear. Looking away, he argued, "We both know that the longer we're together, the harder it's going to be when the time comes."

"I don't accept that," she said deliberately. "We're engaged to be married, Mark! 'In sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live.' I am NOT going to give up on us, or on you."

"It's not going to be easy, and I can't promise you how this is going to turn out," he reminded her softly.

"I know," she nodded. Several long moments passed before she spoke. "Mark, the only thing I need you to promise me is that you're not going to give up, that you're going to fight this. There is a lot we can't control, but I need you to see that there is still a lot we can do."

He knew she was just trying to be optimistic, to look on the bright side, but he honestly wasn't sure there was one in this situation. "I don't know, Elizabeth," he said sadly. "Best case is nine months."

"We don't know that for certain," she pointed out. "That's one opinion. God knows, doctors aren't infallible. You need a second opinion. Who did you see in neurosurgery?"

"Poole," he replied.

"Then I definitely think you should get a second opinion," she concluded firmly.

Bitterly, he huffed, "From who? He is the chief of the department."

"Another neurosurgeon, at another hospital," she explained simply. "I've worked with him, Mark. I don't like him, and I don't trust him. I can't explain exactly what it is. I suppose it's sort of like the reason why you asked me not to see Coburn for my OB. It's just a gut feeling I have."

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe you're right."

"I called my father. He's been friends with Edward Raleigh, one of the best neurosurgeons in London, since medical school. Daddy's going to speak with him, to see if he knows of anything or anyone that might be able to help."

"Okay," Mark replied with a nod.

"You'll get a second opinion?" she pressed gently.

He looked at her for a long moment, then softly said, "If that's what you think is best."

Resolutely, she answered, "I do." She paused for a moment, then said, "Please, Mark, I need you to promise me that you're not going to give up. I need you too much, we both do."

"I know that, Elizabeth. Believe me, I know that," he said, the pain unmistakable in his voice. "The last thing I have ever wanted to do is hurt you. I am sorry for everything, for not telling you sooner, for dropping all of this on you today after the deposition, for what happened at dinner. I am so sorry."

"Mark, the only way you could ever hurt me is by giving up, on yourself or on us," she said quietly.

He drew in a deep breath, before he said, "I wish I could tell you that I know how this is going to turn out. But I will promise you that I won't give up. I love you too much."

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him as she whispered, "I love you, too."

Holding her tightly, Mark closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, never wanting to lose what they shared.

Several minutes passed before Elizabeth pulled back slightly. "You look tired," she remarked as she gently caressed his cheek.

"So do you," he countered.

She gave a guilty smile, then said, "I think I'm going take that shower, try to relax a little before coming to bed. You should get some sleep."

He nodded, then wondered, "You working tomorrow?"

"Supposed to," she nodded, "eight to six. As far as I can remember, I've got two surgeries scheduled. I think I'm going to call Shirley in the morning, tell her I'm not coming in and have her reassign them. How about you?"

"When I left today, I told them I wouldn't be in tomorrow," he answered.

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed softly. She didn't like the fact that he still seemed determined on throwing away his career without a fight, but she was quite certain that nothing would be accomplished if she pushed the point tonight. Slowly standing up, she said, "Go to sleep. I'll be to bed in a little while."

"'Night," he said softly as he watched her walk into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth was resting her head against the cool tiles of the shower as the steamy water cascaded over her, slowly taking away some of the tension from her neck and shoulders.

She flinched as she felt a cool gust of air a moment later, but soon relaxed as she realized it was Mark.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked as he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Never," she replied softly. "But I thought you were going to sleep?"

"Couldn't sleep without you," he replied.

She chuckled as she leaned back against his chest.

"What were you thinking about?" he wondered.

She smiled, then answered, "You'd laugh if I told you."

"Tell me," he encouraged, "and I promise, I won't laugh."

"The Chicago Society of Trauma Physicians," she replied after a moment.

"Their 1999 conference?" he questioned as he picked up the bottle of shampoo, and poured a liberal amount into his hand before massaging it into her thick tresses.

"Mmhmm," she nodded with a contented sigh.

Grinning, he supplied, "Also known as our first date."

"I was actually thinking about earlier that day, at the hospital," she admitted.

"What about it?"

"Do you remember that morning, when I ran into you in the ER, literally?" she asked. "You commented on how 'bright' I looked."

"I remember," he smiled. "You were wearing a yellow jacket, white vest and yellow skirt with little flowers on it. Then, at the conference, you had a light blue trench coat."

She turned slightly to look at him and smiled. "You are good. Very good."

"You made an impression," he grinned.

"Apparently better than the one I thought I was making," she commented warily.

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously as he continued to gently massage her scalp.

"Most of the day, I was thinking to myself, 'Elizabeth, get a grip! He's going to be on the committee making the decision on the trauma fellowship. Stop making a fool of yourself!'" she explained somewhat sheepishly.

"Why did you think you were making a fool of yourself?" he asked in amusement.

"Come on!" she laughed. "First, I practically knocked you over in the ER, then you found me trying to pick up my slides in the middle of the street, unable to hail a taxi. Not to mention that I didn't even make it to the presentation."

"Honestly, I just thought you were having a bad day. And I blamed myself for you missing the presentation," he admitted.

"Really? Why?" she inquired.

He thought for a moment, then began to explain. "Well, I suggested that we take the El, which ended up not stopping at the hotel, then I let the door to the storeroom close."

She shook her head, "I never thought of it as your fault. In fact, I've always considered it to be the best conference I ever attended."

"Same here," he agreed, gently kissing her shoulder.

"That night, I knew I could easily fall in love with you," she acknowledged.

"When?"

"During the tango," she answered with a smile. "I'd never done that before, but I trusted you and you didn't let me down."

"For me, it was a couple hours before that," he admitted. "When we were locked in the storeroom."

"Really?"

He nodded. "You were so easy to talk to, I found myself wanting to know everything about you. I loved the way you laughed at my jokes, even the ones that weren't that great."

She turned so that she could face him and slipped her arms around his neck as the water began to rinse the shampoo from her hair. "I love you, Mark."

Lightly running his fingertips over her face, coming to rest on her jaw, he whispered, "I love you, too."

Elizabeth let her eyes close as her head fell back on her shoulders and the spray from the shower worked its way through her tangled curls.

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?" Mark wondered.

She chuckled as she looked back to him. "Just remember that in a few months when I look like a beached whale."

"Never," he shook his head seriously. "You will always be beautiful."

A tender smile spread across her face as she watched him; all of the love, desire and emotion she felt for him, clearly reflected in her emerald eyes.

He watched her for several moments, unable to stop himself from smiling back. Finally, he softly said, "Turn around, let me get your back."

She compiled with his request as he reached for the soap and rubbed it between his hands, creating a rich lather. He leaned down to kiss the back of her neck as his hand began to spread the suds across her shoulder and down her back.

"Mmm," she sighed contentedly, "that feels wonderful."

"You're tense," he commented as he gently massaged her neck and shoulders.

She laughed ruefully. "I wonder why?"

He cursed himself as he was once again reminded that he was a very significant factor contributing to her current stress. "I'm sorry," he said in a soft, apologetic tone.

She turned quickly to look at him. "Mark, no!" she said firmly. "I don't want you blaming yourself. This is not your fault. I know that."

"I know," he sighed, "but... but I still didn't make your day any easier."

"I don't want you to worry about that. I've had bad days before, and I'm sure I'll have more in the future. But I've always survived," she reminded him. Trying to recapture the lightness of a few moments earlier, she grinned and pointed to her shoulder. "I think you missed a spot."

He laughed, as his eyes met hers, silently thanking her for her understanding and acceptance. He kissed the side of her face as his hands once again began to roam over her body, covering her with soap. Starting at her shoulders, he moved his way down the length of her arms, then to her hips, coming back up the sides of her body, before slowly caressing her breasts and wandering across her abdomen.

A curious look passed over his face as his hands worked their way over her body, but he then smiled as he realized it was from the pregnancy. The added fullness in her breasts and hips, the changes in the contours of her body. He hesitated a moment, but then asked, "When is your next OB appointment?"

"Monday afternoon, why?"

"Would you mind if I came with you?" he wondered quietly.

"Of course not," she smiled. To herself, she couldn't help but think that this may very well be the best sign she'd seen all night. She still remembered the feeling of complete and total amazement when she saw their child on the first ultrasound Chen did. If they were lucky, they may even be able to hear the baby's heartbeat on this visit. Once Mark saw their baby, she knew he wouldn't be able to give up.

Her hand lightly brushed across her abdomen as she silently thought, "You're going to help me make sure Daddy gets through this, aren't you, sweetheart?"

While Mark's hands continued to glide over her silken skin, Elizabeth sighed contentedly as she leaned back against his chest. "That feels absolutely lovely," she said with a sigh.

"You like that?" he questioned softly.

Turning to face him, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, covering him in soap in the process. Pulling him closer, she captured his lips with hers for a fervent kiss. As the kiss slowly came to an end, she coyly asked, "What does that tell you?"

He chuckled. "I'm going to go out on a limb, and take that as a yes."

"I think that's a pretty safe assumption," she nodded as she took the bar of soap from his hand, then rubbed it between hers before spreading the rich lather across his chest. She made a slow, soapy trail over his stomach and his hips before taking his developing arousal in her hands.

He moaned pleasurably at her touch, then noticed the gleam in her eye. "What are you thinking about right now?"

She watched him thoughtfully for several moments. Her mind was overcome with the memories of everything they'd shared together, and thoughts of everything she wanted them to do together in the future. And losing him was the last thing she wanted to think about in that instant. Looking into the dark brown pools of his eyes, she softly said, "I'm thinking about how I want to forget about everything that happened today, and just make love to you. I want to feel your arms around me, your breath on my face, your heart beating next to mine."

He knew the desire in her eyes matched his own. He, too, wanted nothing more than to abandon the events of the day, and get lost in his feelings for her. Gently caressed her cheek, brushing a wet lock of hair behind her ear, as he said, "Then why don't we do this right?"

She looked at him curiously, but didn't say anything as he lightly pushed her backwards until they were both standing under the shower's steamy spray. The water rinsed the soap from their bodies, and he lowered his lips to hers for an ardent kiss that took their breath away.

The kiss continued as he reached behind her and turned off the shower. Finally tearing himself away, he opened the door and picked up a towel. She shivered slightly as the cool rush of air blew into the shower.

"Cold?" he questioned as he lightly placed the towel over her hair and blotted the excess water, then moved down to dry her body.

She reached for another towel as she began drying his shoulders. Smiling seductively, she looked up at him and wondered, "Do you have any ideas for how I should get warm?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," he whispered, his breath brushing over her cheek. Before she could say anything else, he placed one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, and carried her from the bathroom to the bed.

Pushing back the comforter, he gently laid her on the sheet. He tried to pull back, but she would have none of that. Keeping her arms securely around his neck, she drew him onto the bed next to her and found his lips with hers. His hand started at her knee, then traced a gentle path up her leg and over her hip until he was finally cupping her breast.

"Mark," she moaned, her voice thick with rapture, as she used her fingertips to stroke the back of his neck.

He placed a trail of hot, moist kisses from her mouth to her chin down to her chest, where his lips quickly took the place of his hand on her full bosom. As his tongue began a tantalizing torment of her nipple, he methodically kneaded her other breast with his palm.

Elizabeth's head rolled back onto the pillow as she arched her body forward, craving his touch. Closing her eyes, she allowed her hands to drift from his neck over his shoulders. It wasn't difficult for her to feel the tension and stress that he was holding there. As she began to massage his shoulders, he shifted his attention to her other breast. Her nipple became firm and erect as he teased it with his tongue.

She writhed beneath him as his touch set all of her senses on fire. They'd been together over a year, made love hundreds of times, spent countless nights in each others arms; yet he could still take her by surprise, amaze her with how well he knew her body, how he always knew just what she wanted, just what she needed. A low moan passed through her lips as his hands roamed across her body. Slowly, she guided his head up so she could look into his eyes.

She knew what she found there was a reflection of what he saw in her own eyes. The desire they'd always felt was there, but for the first time, there was something different. It was a sense of desperation. They both knew how much they needed each other, and how much the mere thought of losing what they shared was completely terrifying. But for tonight, there was a quiet plea for those thoughts to be pushed away. For both of them to be swept up in the love they shared. For the fear, the doubts and the uncertainties to be set aside until the next day.

She pulled him closer, briefly brushing her lips against his. He smiled softly as he gently caressed her cheek before running his tongue over her lips, silently seeking entrance to her mouth. Her hand covered his as she readily complied, and their tongues began to gently explore the area so well known to both of them.

Without breaking the kiss, Elizabeth sat up slightly and shifted her weight so that Mark was now lying on the other side of the bed. She let her hands drift across his chest while she increased the intensity of the kiss. He replied by caressing the smooth skin on her back, drawing her even closer.

She pulled away from his mouth and covered his neck and chest with feathery kisses, following the same path her hands traveled moments before. Every time they made love, she always reveled in this moment, the instant where she could feel herself melting into him. It had taken her quite a while to identify just what made it so special, but she finally realized that it was from letting all of the walls she'd built up come tumbling down. For the first time in her life, when she was with Mark, she was able to open herself completely and know that he would love her no matter what.

Her tongue flicked quickly over his nipple as her hand continued its downward journey until she brushed against his arousal. She smiled when she heard him gasp in pleasure as she wrapped her fingers around his pulsing erection.

With his eyes closed, he arched his back in response to her touch. "Ohh, Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Deciding not to prolong this pleasurable torture any longer, she lowered her body onto his, his hardness filling her moist folds. She gasped as the first gentle waves of pleasure flowed through her body.

His strong hands wandered across her back, drawing her to him. After but a few moments, she met his rhythm, lowering her hips to meet each of his forceful thrusts. He ran his fingers through her fiery hair, letting them get tangled in her still-damp curls, as his eyes met hers. Looking at her, he was finally able to forget about everything that had happened that day, and not think about what the next might hold. In that instant, nothing mattered except making sure she knew just how much she meant to him and how much he needed her in his life. Wrapping one arm around her back, he gently lifted her body and pushed her down so that she was lying on her back, never breaking the contact they shared. He made an extra effort to support his weight on his arms, not wanting to place any added pressure on her or the baby.

She slipped her hands around the back of his neck and sought out his lips as she felt the beginning of a powerful climax stirring deep within her. With the added leverage from his position above her, he was able to increase both the strength and intensity of his strokes.

Elizabeth moaned his name as pleasure began to pulse through her body, and she welcomed the sweet release she so needed. Moments later, Mark too was taken past the breaking point, giving in to his own overwhelming orgasm.

Collapsing onto the other side of the bed, he kept one arm around her back, pulling her with him. She rested her head on his shoulder and lightly trailed her fingers across her chest as he gently caressed her back.

She wasn't sure how long they remained like that. Finally, she softly wondered, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

He gave rueful half-laugh in response. "After today, I'm not quite sure how to take that."

She shifted slightly and rested her chin on his shoulder, so she could look at him. "I think you know."

"I guess I do," he admitted with a smile. "I don't know the answer, but I do know that I've been lying here asking myself that same question."

"That's how I know we're going to get through this," she explained quietly. "We've both waited too long to find something that feels like this."

He continued to lightly run his hand over her back. "I hope you're right," he whispered.

She hoped she was right, too. Without saying another word, she initiated a slow, tender, yet passion-filled kiss. Pulling back after a moment, she just watched him with a small smile on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" he wondered.

She laughed somewhat self-consciously. "I was actually just thinking that I'm hungry."

"Worked up an appetite, huh?" he questioned with a grin.

"Something like that," she laughed.

Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, he quietly said, "I guess you are hungry, you haven't had anything to eat all day." He hesitated, still feeling guilty for happened between them in the kitchen earlier. "I, uh, I put the leftovers from dinner in the refrigerator. We could go downstairs and heat them up."

She wrinkled her nose, rejecting that idea, then grinned. "I was actually thinking Chinese."

"Anything in particular?"

"Well..." she said with a smile, "those little steak skewers would be great, maybe a spring roll or lo mein, plus that chicken with peapods and cashews."

He laughed as he watched her. "I didn't think cravings started until the second trimester."

"Maybe I'm just getting a head start," she chuckled.

"So, you're saying I have another seven months of this to look forward to?" he teased, but stopped suddenly as he realized that he couldn't even be sure he'd be there in seven months.

She watched him for a moment, then seriously said, "Yes, you do. You have a lot to look forward to, Mark."

Not completely trusting his voice, he just nodded.

Reaching for his hand as she stood up, she pulled him out of bed and slipped her arms around his neck. After kissing him softly, she smiled and said, "Let's go downstairs and order dinner."

Mark entered the bedroom and placed the tray he was carrying on the floor. Smiling, he sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Elizabeth while she slept. After a few moments, he lightly ran his hand over her face, brushing back her curls.

"Mmmm," Elizabeth murmured sleepily. Slowly opening her eyes, she smiled. "'Morning."

"Good morning," he replied softly.

Sitting up a bit, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

A puzzled look crossed her face, then she remembered, "I was supposed to call Shirley this morning, to have her reschedule my surgeries! Romano is going to kill me!"

"Relax," Mark assured her. "I called the hospital a little after seven and told Shirley that you wouldn't be in. Everything's taken care of."

"Really?" she questioned anxiously.

"Really," he nodded with a smile.

Noticing that he was dressed, she wondered, "Are you going into work?"

"Not exactly. I'm going to the hospital, but just to talk to Kerry. I'm not pulling a shift."

She studied him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but she couldn't quiet do it. "What are you going to tell her?"

"I figure I've got to tell her about the tumor. I'll probably talk to her about using up my sick leave first, then going out on disability. Hopefully she can keep things quite around the hospital. I don't want everyone to know," he admitted quietly.

"So you're not handing in your resignation?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back there, but at least this way, I can keep my insurance through the hospital and still draw a paycheck while I'm off."

She sighed quietly. He still wasn't as optimistic as she would have liked, but she had to admit that his attitude was an improvement over what she'd seen the evening before. "You're leaving now?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to be meeting in about half an hour," he explained.

"Has my father called?" she questioned, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to speak to Raleigh and call her with his findings.

"Not yet. Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, trying not to let her apprehension show. She couldn't help but fear that the reason her father hadn't called was because the news he'd discovered wasn't good. "I'll probably get up in few minutes, get dressed, then head into the study and see if I can reach him."

"Why don't you have breakfast first?" Mark suggested as he stood up and walked to the foot of the bed, picking up a tray he'd placed there earlier.

"What is that?" she questioned with a smile.

"Breakfast. Fresh fruit, yogurt, a bagel and orange juice."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, "I'm just not sure I'll be able to keep it down."

"The morning sickness might not be quite as bad if you raise your blood sugar before you get out bed," he suggested.

She reached for the juice glass and took a small sip before commenting, "I'm holding you responsible if this little theory doesn't work out."

"I'm sure you will," he laughed.

"If you're meeting with Kerry in half an hour, you should get going," she pointed out as she took a bite of the bagel.

"You'll be okay?"

She smiled and shook her head at his overprotectiveness. "I'll be fine. Go."

"Bye," he said as he leaned over and kissed her softly.

"Bye," she echoed as he headed for the stairs.

"Elizabeth?" Mark called as he entered the front door later that afternoon.

"I'm up here," she replied, her voice echoing down the stairs to him.

He climbed the stairs to find the door to the study open and a light emanating from inside. Crossing the hall, he entered the room. "What are you up to?"

"Just some research," she replied as she looked up from the computer screen and turned to face him. "How'd things go at the hospital?"

He sat down next to the window and stared outside for several moments. "I never realized what a view of the backyard there was from here."

"I noticed it last weekend, when I was supposed to be reviewing for the deposition," she admitted quietly. "My thoughts kept drifting to what it would be like to watch our child playing out there."

He slowly turned back to her. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I would give anything if I could change things."

She drew in a deliberate breath, then propped her elbows on the desk and folded her hands together. Looking directly at him, she said, "Mark, if you want to do something, stop apologizing. Stop thinking of this as being your fault. Start fighting back. I am NOT giving up, Mark, and neither are you."

He looked at her, but remained silent, not quite knowing how to respond. He wanted to believe her, but there was a part of him that was just too afraid.

She gave him a small, reassuring smile, letting him know that she did understand what he was thinking. "My father had Edward Raleigh give me a call earlier. He knows of a doctor in New York that's on the cutting edge of GBM research. This doctor's using a combination of surgery to remove the tumor and placement of chemotherapy wafers in the tumor cavity. His name is Burke. I've got his number and Edward told me to use his name. All we need to do is call."

"The tumor's invaded Broca's, surgery's not an option," he pointed out.

"That's one opinion," she reminded him. "An opinion that I don't have complete faith in. At the very least, I think we need to see if this doctor has to say."

He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps what scared him the most was that he would get his hopes up, believing that this doctor may actually be able to help him, only to find out that the initial diagnosis was correct. But he knew she was going to push the second opinion until he finally relented. With a sigh, he softly said, "Okay. Let's call him."

"Want me to call?" she questioned carefully.

"Please."

Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth hung up the phone. "We're going to New York."

Drawing in a deep breath, "So, what's the deal?"

"The treatment is basically exactly what Edward told me. Burke can fit us into his schedule next Thursday. The first thing is to have them map the brain. You'll be in an MRI, going through a series of language drills for that. Burke will review the results, they'll discuss it in tumor board and let us know their conclusions by that afternoon," she reported. "What do you think?"

"I think we'll be paying a fortune for plane tickets, traveling this close to Christmas," he joked weakly.

"At least you've still got your sense of humor," she replied with a laugh.

"That's something, right?"

"Yes, it is," she confirmed. After a moment, she pointed out, "You never answered my question."

He looked confused. "What question?"

"How'd things go at the hospital?"

"It was harder than I thought it would be," he admitted with a sigh. "Kerry was, uh, she was shocked, to say the least. She agreed to help me with the time off, and wanted to know if there was anything she could do. I just asked her to try and keep things quiet. I don't want the entire hospital knowing."

"I'm sure she'll take care of everything," Elizabeth smiled softly.

"I figure I'd better warn you... Romano knows something's up. Apparently he heard a rumor about my seizure yesterday, and he wanted to know why we both were out sick today. I told him my schedule wasn't any of his concern, that I'd made arrangements with Kerry and she was fine with it. I said you weren't feeling well when I left this morning, but it was probably just something you ate or a case of the stomach flu."

With a weak laugh, she said, "At least you weren't completely lying."

"What?" he questioned.

"It was something I ate. I got sick about an hour after you left, couldn't keep the fruit and bagel down. I did manage to eat the yogurt and drink some apple juice later. So far, I'm not having a problem with that," she said wearily.

"Any chance I could interest you in lunch now?" he wondered. "You need to eat, to keep up your strength. Maybe Chinese leftovers?"

"Uh, please, no!" she moaned, placing her hand on her stomach.

He chuckled. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

She thought for a moment, then looked at him and smiled. "Scrambled eggs might work."

"Scrambled eggs for lunch?" he questioned. She nodded. Laughing, he added, "Then scrambled eggs it is. Come on, you can keep me company in the kitchen."

He slipped his arm around her back and pulled her a bit closer as they walked out of the study and started down the stairs.

Please seed all feedback to: SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

January 20, 2001

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