Copyright: This story is copyrighted to the author © November 1999 by Revan. Do not use any part of this story without my written permission. Contact: Revan3@hotmail.com

Disclaimers: See Part 1 for standard disclaimers.

"Where’s the boss?" the intern’s voice was noticeably tremulous.

The senior resident looked up from his chart. "Hey, you OK?"

"I’ve had better nights." The younger doctor looked ready to puke.

Bob closed the chart. "Look, it was a screw-up, OK? But the patient will do all right."

"That makes one of us. There won’t be much left of me after the boss hears about this."

Bob sighed. "She’s not that bad. I’ll try to deflect some of it onto me...the blame’s mine, too, you know."

"No...so where is she?" Phil, the intern, scanned the halls nervously.

"It’s only 5 before 6...she’s not late." Bob looked towards the door.

"That’s not like her. She’s always here, skulking around before the rest of us show up. Drives me nuts."

"Huh." Bob was noncommittal. The intern had a point, though.

At exactly 5:59, he heard the door open and the unmistakeable sound of their attending surgeon’s clogs echo down the hall. Shit. Phil was right; there was going to be hell to pay. Even his...privileged... status as Dana’s friend wasn’t going to rescue them now.

Dana walked up to the chart rack waiting for her at the end of the hall, half-noticing the rest of the team gathering at her arrival. She was attending for two weeks, covering for this year’s Chief who was on vacation. Each patient would be presented in turn, then would be examined, and the plans for the day set.

Halfway down the hall, she was joined by Bob Callaghan, who was now a senior resident. "Hi."

She glanced over. Bob was staring.

"What?"

"What happened to you?"

"Hey, I’m not late. It’s not 6 a.m. yet." Dana conveniently ignored the real question.

"That’s not what I meant."

"I’m tired. Not enough sleep last night." She glared at him, clearly pissed. Satisfied that his boss was back to normal, Bob turned to the charts and began rounds.

Half-an-hour later, they were almost finished with all of their patients on that ward. Dana had been fighting to concentrate. Well, no surprise there. This is crazy. 6:30 in the morning, leaving Bryn more than half-asleep at 5:30, with only a quick kiss to say good-bye...

Bryn.

She felt the flush coursing through her body. Bryn’s lips on hers...Bryn opening for her...

"Oh my god..."

She only realized that she had said the words out loud when the entire team fell silent. Oh shit. Dana looked up to see the junior surgeons looking at the floor, clearly uncomfortable. The intern looked ready to vomit.

OK, recover. You can do this...what the hell were they saying? Mr. Llachlan...fever...abdomen rigid...Jesus, an anastomotic leak?

The way to play this one fell into place. She scowled. "Go on."

Bob, who to her eye was clearly covering for poor Phil, filled in the gap. "Mr. Llachlan had a fever last night...we..." he glanced around "did the usual post-op fever work-up...but this morning his abdomen is stiff, as Phil was saying, and we think his colonic anastomosis has dehisced."

OK, thought Dana, they think I was just seeing this coming, that’s why I swore. She turned to Bob, too relieved to bother dressing him or the team down. "Right, you’ve got him scheduled for the OR this morning?" At Bob’s nod, she made her voice cold. "Guess we’ll be presenting this one at M and M’s this week. I don’t care for that." Her dislike of having to present cases where patients had died, or had complications, at the weekly Morbidity and Mortality Conference was legendary.

"I take it you’ve discussed how the chain of command is supposed to work when something unusual happens?" It was obvious to her that Phil hadn’t told the junior, who hadn’t told Bob, about Mr. Llachlan until this morning.

Bob nodded. "Yep."

Dana was silent, noticing the team relax as they started to realize that she wouldn’t spend the next five minutes kicking their butts. Huh. Maybe I should rescue my reputation here.

She looked at the OR list. "You guys are stretched pretty thin today, anyway, with those two EW cases on top of the scheduled ward ones...I’ll take care of Mr. Llachlan’s peritonitis. Phil can assist." She pinned the intern with an icy stare. The team stiffened.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting at the nurse’s station scribbling her brief attending notes on the patients she had seen that morning, while the rest of the team wrote orders, got ready for the OR, and did all the rest of the scut that kept the service running.

Thank god I’m not an internist...I’d flip out if I had to write those long notes. She spent a few moments looking at the events as detailed in Mr. Llachlan’s chart. Damn, what a mess.

Uh oh. Bob was sitting down next to her. She looked at him blandly.

"OK, Dana, what’s up?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" She decided to play dumb.

"You can’t play dumb with me. Half the team thinks you’re on drugs, the other half thinks you had a lobotomy."

"What, because I didn’t ream you guys for that fuckup?" She forced a laugh.

Bob relaxed slightly. "Well, I was hoping for another classic quote, like last time."

"Last time?" Dana searched her memory. Blank.

"You know...when you told us to stop dragging our dicks on the floor? That’s legendary."

"Huh." She really couldn’t think of a come-back. She regarded Bob warily. For some undefined reason, he was the one surgeon that she had really hit it off with in the department. Who would have predicted that the only person she would be able to show any part of herself to was this clean-cut classics major from Yale, for God’s sake? And he had been honest with her, too...allowing them to forge what was really her only true friendship.

Until Bryn.

She had been invited to his wedding, and the recent christening of his baby boy. And she had even gone, much to the amazement of the rest of the surgeons attending. She smiled, remembering the faces when she had danced with Bob’s dad. So, I’m an awesome dancer and you guys didn’t have a clue. She had met Carla at that wedding. Yuck.

Suddenly, she got an idea. Bob owed her.

"OK, you got me." She faced him, her voice low. "I got laid last night...and it was really great."

He stared, his eyes widening slightly. "Uh...OK." He thought for a moment. "Uh...pardon me for saying so, Dana, but that never made a difference in your mood before."

"Jesus." Dana shook her head. That’s because you only know about the guys I took advantage of when I was rebounding from Carla. I’m not telling you that part, however.

"Well...maybe this time is different."

"Yeah...maybe." Bob looked at her, speculatively. "Let me see...you want me to cover for you for a few hours tonight?"

Dana smiled. "I knew you were a smart boy. Say...if I sign out to you from 8 to 11?"

"That’s fine...Susan’s on call tonight, so I won’t be seeing her anyway, and we have the nanny now, so I can stay for a bit. The kid’ll be up half the night anyway, so I’ll see plenty of him." He smiled, walking back to the charts.

She waited a moment, until Bob’s attention was elsewhere, then swiveled back to the computer, calling up Bryn’s pager number with a few quick clicks. She typed in a brief message.

She hit send, and waited. A few minutes later her beeper buzzed and she glanced at the display. "Great. See you for dinner, my place. --B."

******

The anxiety was overwhelming, her heart pounding, gasping for breath. Don’t leave me...don’t. She looked down at the still figure as the ambulance raced through the dark streets, the rain pounding down on the windows, blurring the lights that lanced out of the blackness, glaring into her eyes. "Shit," she heard the driver mutter, "damn traffic." He hit a button, and the siren began to blare.

Bryn jerked awake. Dana... She looked around, frantic. What’s going on? What’s that noise? She shook her head, woozy from the narcotics and the lack of sleep. She instinctively reached for the alarm clock, then her eyes fell on the beeper sitting on the table next to the bed, vibrating against the wood as it continued to sound. Christ.

Arrggh! Holy fucking shit... She grimaced in pain as she reached for the offending item. God, that hurt. What was it again? Oh, yes...her knee. The memory of the previous evening flooded back, and she gasped.

The lancing pain had been good for one thing; it cleared her mind of the remaining cobwebs and allowed her to focus on silencing the damn noise. She wanted to throw the thing through the window. Who the fuck is calling me? Jon was back on service last night...if you didn’t sign back in, Dr. Saylor, you’ll be history.

She pressed the button and looked at the message on the display. It didn’t register. What’s this? She read it again, and found herself shivering. Dana. I don’t believe it...how’d she get off? Fucking incredible.

God, I want to see her again. I need to see her again. With an almost physical effort, she made herself stop reviewing the previous twelve hours, knowing that otherwise she’d be paralyzed, and she needed to take some action. Reaching for the telephone, it didn’t take long to call the page operator and have a text message sent back to Dana’s beeper. That’s done.

And here I promised myself that I’d never cook for her. Bryn laughed at herself, then winced again as she settled back into the bed. She pulled the blankets over her head. I can’t move...this damn leg. Maybe it is fractured. OK, Doc, you’ll have to settle for having a pizza delivered, or the Chinese take-out from down the street. There’s no way I’ll be able to go shopping today.

That detail settled, and now motionless in the bed, her pain subsided and Bryn was able to free her memory. It seems like a dream. For a moment, the darkness of the nightmare with which she had awakened passed into her mind’s eye, and she felt a chill. Must’ve been the drugs...I’ve always had a bad reaction to Percocet.

Her thoughts skittered away, settling on a certain surgeon. Wasn’t that...something. I just wish I hadn’t been...lame...there’s a lot more I wanted to do. She moved her leg tentatively. It hurts a lot more than it did last night. She grinned. Well, with the drugs and the distraction, that’s no surprise. I sure wasn’t feeling any pain.

Remembering what she was feeling elicited a groan. God...the first time, she had come so fast, Dana couldn’t believe it. I’ve been ready for a year...it wasn’t going to take much. After she had calmed, she had tried to reciprocate, but the surgeon wasn’t having any of it.

"Don’t move," Dana had commanded, pinning her arms back against the bed. Bryn flinched at the memory. I liked that...

"But..." she tried to protest, but found herself silenced by aggressive lips, the words swallowed, then gone, short-circuited by other sensations. Her breasts were assaulted, first teased, lightly, then raked by teeth, almost bringing her to another climax.

"Not so fast..." The voice was almost angry, seductive, controlling. Bryn gave herself over to it. "There’s still too much I want to do...have to do." Hands and lips left trails of fire, and the voice returned, filled with pleasure. "Oh...you’re so wet...so wet for me, Bryn..."

She gasped, opening, feeling fingers then lips in the wetness, moving to where her need had gathered. There were no thoughts; she was all feeling, as the contractions broke over her, carrying her on and on...

Bryn groaned, burying her head in the pillow. All I have to do is think about it and I’m practically coming again. Jesus. At least I have an excuse not to go in to the lab...I’d never make it through the day.

I need coffee. She sat up again, testing her leg. This is bad. She reached for the brace that Dana had bought for her, and put it on the way she had been instructed. That’s a little better. Managing to get to her feet, and keeping most of her weight on her right leg, she made her way to the bathroom.

******

"Jesus...can’t you cut those sutures right? What third-rate med school did you go to, anyway?"

Dana clenched her jaw. Get a grip. You’re exhausted...and taking it out on everybody. Phil’s already a wreck. The intern’s hands were shaking.

Her frontal lobes, the emotion centers of her brain, had been acting up all day. Dana knew she had been working at half-speed at best, and was making too many mistakes. This is taking forever. Mr. Llachlan had a rip-roaring peritonitis, and the adhesions were a bitch to lyse. Fuck.

She looked at the peritoneal cavity. What a disaster. The OR was deathly quiet, and she glanced around, knowing from the charged atmosphere that the staff were all terrified that they might be the next to become the focus of her wrath. You want to see bitchy? I can do bitchy...this has just been my warm-up. She knew that the lack of sleep was making her profoundly depressed, but the knowledge didn’t help her control her thoughts or feelings.

Finally, they were done, and she nodded grimly to the intern, who was obviously relieved to see her leave and let him finish the last of the skin sutures on his own. She stood in the shower, her black mood billowing to engulf her. How could you do it, Sanders? How many fucking times did you promise yourself you wouldn’t... She shook her head, rinsing out the shampoo. Too late...you couldn’t fight the damn attraction.

Dana got dressed, and called the page operator, signing her beeper over to Bob as they had planned. She walked slowly down the steps and through the main corridor to the front doors, heading to the T to go to Bryn’s apartment in Cambridge. I have to talk to her...tell her about Sara. She bit back a groan. If you see her, you won’t be able to end it.

Oh, god...you’re practically in love with her. She halted, shaken by the revelation. No. That can’t be.

Well, God knows the residents have called me worse. Dana grimaced. She had heard the names...all of them. It’s about time she realized that I’m a complete bastard. There’s a reason for the reputation, Dr. Mallory.

Dana’s stomach clenched. She needs someone who will be nice to her. And better she learn the truth now, rather than later, when she’s really invested...less hurt for her, and for me.

Am I running away because I couldn’t face the loss again in this lifetime? Shaking her head, Dana dismissed that thought. No...this isn’t about my fear. It’s about my honor. If I betray Sara...then I really will be the devil. And continuing this is just using Bryn.

Too exhausted to think clearly and now deeply depressed, she found herself turning around, heading back the way she had come, then continuing out the back doors and to her apartment where she could at least get a few hours of sleep.

******

Over the course of the day, Bryn’s memories of pleasure were being slowly overtaken by the discomfort from her leg. Discomfort. She laughed, ironically. Now there’s a medical term for you. Why is it we never use the word pain?

She hadn’t wanted to take too many Percocets, prefering to keep her head clear, but by mid-afternoon she took two tablets. Dana won’t be here until eight...these won’t be hitting me so hard then. Bryn sank back into the couch, looking around, distracted. She had read the entire newspaper, and had spent the last few hours zoning out in front of the TV. When’s the last time I’ve been home during a weekday? Maybe the narcotics will make these soaps more palatable. She remembered the actress she had glimpsed while examining Ms. Carr. What channel’s that on?

She laughed. Like she holds a candle to Dana.

The Percocets took hold, blurring the pain and her consciousness, and she dozed. When eight o’clock came, she felt better, and the leg seemed manageable. Where’s that take-out menu? I’m getting hungry.

As eight-thirty, then nine came and went, Bryn started to worry. Jesus, I wish she’d be here...I need to see her. And I want her to look at my leg.

By ten, she was getting fed up. She probably got stuck in a case...couldn’t call. But I’m starving.

Finally, the pain was surging, fed by her anxiety. She gave in and took two more tablets of the narcotic, gulping them down, trying to clear her mind. She got into bed, glancing at the clock. Eleven.

She felt nauseous. It’s just the Percocet on an empty stomach. She knew it was more than the drugs. She pushed the fear down, but it kept bubbling up, threatening to overwhelm her. Don’t be nuts. You’re hormones are out of control...just look at this rationally.

She couldn’t. God, I care so much.

******

When she woke the next morning, the nausea almost overtook her. She didn’t call. Bryn grabbed the beeper, checking the battery. Of course the damn thing’s working...don’t be silly.

Constructing various reasons why Dana had been unable to call was easy. For god’s sake, you knew you were getting involved with a surgeon. She was in the OR until late...she didn’t want to call and wake me up. And she’s waiting until later this morning for the same reason. Bryn wasn’t believing any of them. Something’s wrong.

The morning passed slowly, blurred by the drugs, as Bryn no longer held off on taking them. Her leg was worse, and the pain almost kept her from making her way into the kitchen. She looked in the refrigerator. I can’t eat...I feel sick.

I could page her. No. Bryn felt the knowledge slam home. I won’t chase her--I’ve done enough of that. This time it has to be from her.

By midday, her fear was turning to anger. She felt it smoldering, threatening to burst into flame. I can’t believe it...I just can’t. She wouldn’t have used me like that. She knew how I felt...and I could tell that she felt it, too.

By the evening, she was a thin shell over coiled violence. The only thing that kept her from kicking down the door of Dana’s apartment was the fact that she could barely stand up. And I’ve never even been to her damn apartment.

She looked at her leg. This needs to get examined. Well, she was on call last night...so she’ll be off tonight. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll be far away, not hanging around the EW.

Once Bryn had made the decision to go to the hospital, she was on autopilot. She called for a taxi, then tightened the brace, hobbling to the front door to wait for the cab. The pain seemed to increase as she got into the passenger’s seat, and the ride to the hospital seemed endless. Don’t think about it. Just...don’t.

The triage nurse in the EW knew her, and moved her into the Orthopedic area quickly. Bryn looked around. Serves me right for giving these guys such a hard time over that patient last year...what was her name...Mrs. Reilley.

The resident showed up. He looked young, and seemed unnerved by the fact that she was a member of the hospital’s staff. Oh, Jesus...calm down. Bryn was too strung out to bother giving him a hard time, however, and once he started talking, she was impressed. He seems intelligent enough. Answering his questions, she gave a brief history.

"I’m worried that my left fibula’s fractured...I do martial arts, and it got hit, two nights ago. I thought it was just bruised, and stayed off of it, but it’s getting more painful..." She stopped, unable to continue. Get a grip. Don’t start crying.

The resident nodded, sympathetic. "Fine, let me take a look, and we’ll get some films." He put her through the same battery of moves that Dana had used, eliciting gasps of pain. Clucking to himself, he stepped over and ordered the X-rays. "It’ll just be a minute."

Amazingly, he was right, and Bryn soon found herself wheeled off to the radiology suite, where her leg was imaged. She allowed herself to feel a touch self-satisfied. Well, that’s one thing being on staff here is good for...I get the VIP treatment. I thought I’d be sitting there for hours.

Ten minutes later, the resident returned. "It’s fractured, all right." He held the film up for her, and pointed out the hairline crack. "Fortunately, it’s not displaced. I’ll get the cast tech, and we’ll put a cast on for you." He stepped over to the desk and wrote a few notes. "Do you want to follow-up with one of the private orthopedic guys?"

"Yes." Bryn managed a small grin. Boy, I’m getting stuck up in my old age. "Not that I don’t love you residents, but..."

The resident smiled back. "Gotcha. Anyone special that you want to see? Otherwise, Dr. Mills is taking private patients tonight."

Bryn nodded. "That’s fine."

The surgeon left, and Bryn was finally alone. She looked over at the X-rays, now hanging on the light box on the wall. Fuck.

Unable to hold out any longer, her barriers crumbled, and she found herself sobbing.

"Bryn...Bryn, what’s the matter?" It was Cassie, walking by the Ortho area on the way out of the EW at the end of her shift. The nurse took one look at the internist’s face, and rushed into the room.

"Oh, god, Cassie..." Bryn couldn’t stop crying.

The nurse finally got Bryn to look up and caught her eyes. "What happened?"

"Oh...fuck." Bryn found herself shaking.

"Bryn..." Cassie was starting to sound frantic.

"Cass...it really hurts."

"Bryn...what?" The nurse held her friend until she felt her calming. She saw the X-ray on the wall. "Oh, shit...your leg’s fractured?"

"Yeah...it got hit...."

Cassie squeezed Bryn’s arm, gamely trying to think of a way to cheer her friend up. "Let me guess...huh...you made a move on some Mafia don’s daughter, and he found out and had your leg broken?" At Bryn’s gasp, she grimaced. "Sorry, that was a bad joke."

She waited while Bryn took a few deep breaths. "Sweetheart...tell me what happened."

The words tumbled out. "I...I just had my heart broken."

The nurse gaped. "Wha...what?"

Bryn hung her head. "Oh, Jesus...I’m such a fool. I let myself fall for Dana Sanders...and boy, I got it back in my face, big time."

Cassie stilled, feeling a growing anger. "That fucking bitch..."

Bryn’s body jerked. "No...it’s my own damn fault. I deluded myself into thinking something...that wasn’t true."

The nurse opened her mouth to reply when the Ortho resident returned. "We’re going to put that cast on now...and I’ve got you set up for some follow-up appointments with Dr. Mills."

Bryn nodded. "Thanks." She turned to her friend. "Cass...do you have your car? I need a ride home..." Her voice faded out.

"Yeah...yeah, sure." She took Bryn’s hand, as the internist was crying again. The surgeon gave them a curious look, but went ahead with his preparations for applying the cast. Cassie glared at him. Mind your own business, asshole.

An hour later, the cast was finished and Bryn had been fitted for crutches and received a prescription for more pain meds. Cassie took her friend out to the front lobby in a wheelchair, then collected her car and drove to the front door, getting out to help Bryn climb in.

They were over the Longfellow Bridge and halfway down Memorial Drive when Bryn finally broke the silence. "I’m sorry, Cass...I just can’t talk about it right now." She wiped her eyes. "It just really...hurts."

"That’s OK. I’m here for you Bryn, you know that, right?" At Bryn’s nod, the nurse sighed. And I’m going to kill that bitch.

******

Christ, I’m tired. Dana ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back, out of her eyes. She leaned against the wall in the hallway for a moment, collecting herself. I don’t feel well. Some other doctors were coming down the hall, and she pushed herself off the wall, going back to Trauma Room 1. Another MIT student had gotten drunk at a frat party; this one had fallen off a second story balcony. She had stabilized him down here in the EW and he was going to the OR soon.

She flipped through the EW notes, unconsciously checking that everything was in order for the OR team, shaking her head over the foolish accident. Stupid fucking idiot. She grimaced. So much for your compassion, Sanders.

Crit, lytes, X-rays, urine.... Where were the coagulation studies? She called over to the intern. "Brian...you didn’t write down the coags..." She looked through the papers. "And I don’t see how many units you’ve had set up."

He froze. "Uh...."

She instantly changed, suddenly taller, forbidding. "You did get coags and set up some blood for type and cross, right?"

The look of worry on his face gave the answer. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the patient area and into the resident’s room.

"Are you telling me that we have someone about to go to surgery and you didn’t send the right labs?" The menace was palpable, and the intern started to sweat. "You little piece of...how many months have you been here, anyway? Haven’t you managed to learn anything yet? Did you leave your brain in the toilet this morning?"

The intern knew better than to say anything. He was fighting not to cry. Dana didn’t pause. "Didn’t your mother teach you to check your fly before you walked out of the house? Well, that’s how you need to check the damn labs...every fucking time. Got it?"

Bob Callaghan and the head nurse on the EW shift paused outside the room, hearing the familiar ferocious tone. They looked at each other, and the senior resident raised an eyebrow.

"What’s up?" he asked, trying to peer into the room without being obvious.

"Just the usual," noted the nurse, bemused. "She’s in prime form today."

Bob pursed his lips. "Yeah...she’s already done his mother...now we’ll get the whole ancestry."

"That part’s always my favorite." The nurse shook her head as they moved on. "Still...I’d say it’s been worse than usual, lately. She’s always been tough...but this is getting close to the edge."

"Really?" Bob raised an eyebrow. Oh, boy. He started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. When did I cover for her? Two weeks ago? Oh....boy.

Having exhausted her standard litany of personal slurs, Dana stopped abruptly. She clenched her jaw, turning away as the intern slunk out of the room. With nobody there to see, she let her head sink into her hands.

I’ve got to get out of here. This is impossible. She picked up the phone and dialed, grabbing the receiver when it rang back a moment later. "Steve? It’s Dana Sanders.... Look, I’m sick...I’ve got to leave. Could you cover my shift in the EW now? It’s just a few more hours...yeah, until eight. Yeah, yeah, I’ll be OK.... I just need to get out of here for a bit. Great...thanks."

She hung up, staring at the wall until she heard the sound of clogs coming up behind her five minutes later. Steven Pearce was one of the young attendings; he had been Chief when she was a junior resident. She had covered for him in the past.

He looked at her, concerned. "Everything OK?"

"Not really. Thanks for covering." She stood up and walked out, ignoring his puzzled expression.

After she had gone, Steve went to find the senior. "What’s wrong with Dana?" he asked, finding Bob in the hallway.

"Huh?"

"She just left...said she was sick. I’m covering for her."

Bob shook his head. "Man, I don’t know. She seemed OK a minute ago...she was yelling at one of the interns...you know." He shrugged. "She didn’t say anything to me."

The head nurse overheard them. "That’s incredible. She’s never missed a day before...ever."

"Right, remember that week last year when she had that high fever?" The nurse nodded, and Bob turned to the attending, explaining. "She didn’t take a single day off; she worked the whole time."

The two doctors and the nurse looked at each other, at a loss. Bob sighed. "This is...unnerving. It’s like...Kirk abandoning the bridge in the middle of a battle."

The others laughed, but Bob remained pensive as they went back to their patients. I don’t like this one bit.

******

This tastes awful. Bryn pushed the food around her plate, regarding it, weary. Abruptly, she dumped the entire tray into the trash, her lunch uneaten.

God, I’ve got to start getting some sleep. This is ridiculous. She sighed, shifting her weight in her desk chair. This damn cast. It still hurts.

Despite her best efforts, she looked out the window. What fucking cosmic joke is it that I have to have an office that looks out at her damn apartment building?

That cheerful thought was interrupted by the ringing of the phone, and Bryn gave an involuntary jerk. Fuck...who’s that?

She grabbed the receiver, dispensing with pleasantry. "Yeah?"

"Uh...Bryn?"

The blond held the receiver more tightly. "Holly...is that you?"

"Yes...hey, where’ve you been? I’ve been wondering why you haven’t been to class." The older woman’s voice was tentative, with an undercurrent of both anxiety and curiosity.

Bryn massaged her temples. Calm down. She kept her voice even. "You won’t believe this...but I actually fractured my left fibula that night."

The gasp was audible. "Oh no, Bryn...that asshole David. I’m going to kick his butt...."

Bryn made a rude noise. "Don’t bother...he’s not redeemable."

There was a pause. "Would you be up for having me come over after class tonight? I have something for you."

"Well...OK." Bryn was conflicted. Am I ready for this? Haven’t I cried enough? "Around nine?"

"Yes...see you then, OK?"

"OK...bye." Bryn hung up the phone, and looked out the window.

******

When the doorbell rang, Bryn collected her crutches and the remnants of her composure and opened the door. Oh, Christ. Holly was unable to hide the dismay on her face, and Bryn felt herself unraveling. Come on, you can do this. Grow up.

"Oh, god, Bryn..." Holly looked over her friend, taking in the cast and crutches, and shook her head, pitingly. "I’m really sorry. How have you been getting back and forth to work?"

"There’s a bus stop right at the end of the street...takes me to Harvard Square, and then I take the T. Can’t do much with the bike, I’m afraid." She shrugged, rueful.

Holly smiled. "When are you going to grow up and get a car?"

"And ruin my image?" Bryn smiled back. "Since we haven’t had any snow, it’s not too bad. Look, come on in." She moved out of the way to let the older woman pass by, and closed the door. "You want some tea? I’ve got Oreos to go with it."

"Yeah, that’d be great." Holly turned, looking the doctor over again. "And you need the Oreos. What’s the matter, haven’t you been eating? You’re wasting away." Shit, she looks awful. And her affect’s all wrong...it’s all...flat.

Bryn was moving around the kitchen, pulling down some mugs and didn’t answer. Holly looked up. "Hello?"

The blond produced a small grin. She held up some boxes. "What kind do you want?"

"That herbal stuff...that’ll do." Holly walked over. "You need a hand?" Jesus, what’s wrong?

"Yeah, here." Bryn handed her a plate of cookies and some napkins. "Let’s sit on the couch, OK? The tea will be ready in a minute." She followed the brunette into the living room. "So...I’ve been dying of curiosity all day. What do you have for me?"

"Actually, it’s from Master Kim." Holly pulled a long, flat package from her gym bag. "He’s had this for you all week. When I told him what had happened, he asked me to give it to you."

Bryn’s mouth went dry. She didn’t need to open it; she knew what was inside. Unseeing, she balanced the package on her palms, then burst into tears.

"Whoa...that wasn’t the response I was expecting." Holly was startled. "Come on, Bryn, open it...you know you deserved it."

"No, it’s not that." The blond unwrapped the paper, pulling out the black belt, her fingers trembling as she fingered the material. Her voice got hard, taking on an edge that her friend had never heard from her before. "Afterwards, I couldn’t walk...Dana brought me home. She stayed the night...she said she’d see me the next night, but she never came. It’s been two weeks...."

"Oh, Bryn..." Holly’s voice was almost a whisper.

"Yeah. I know I’m not the first person in the world to get my heart broken, but it sure feels like it, you know?" Bryn shrugged, ironic, mocking herself. "Jesus, since when did I start taking myself so seriously?"

"Since you fell in love."

The internist glared. "Is that what it was? I’m not so sure." She pulled herself up on her crutches and went over to make the tea, using the break to push down the anger. Let it go. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t real.

Holly followed her, taking the cups and carrying them back to the coffee table. "You’re really angry."

Bryn snorted. "Oh, yeah. You know...I’m really mad that she wrecked a good friendship."

The older woman sighed. "Come on, Bryn...it was always more than a friendship for you."

"Yeah." The blond grimaced. "I’m a fucking idiot. I thought it was more for her, too." She picked up an Oreo, dissecting it. "I really believed that she felt the way I did. Talk about wishful thinking. Fuck." She caught herself. "Man, I’ve got to do something about that...that’s becoming the main word in my vocabulary."

Holly ignored the lame attempt at humor. "How do you know how she feels? You haven’t talked to her, right?"

"Oh, come on." Bryn’s gaze was withering.

"No, really. Look, I don’t know her, but I’ve never had any reason to question your judgement. I can’t believe you would fool yourself so completely. Give yourself some credit, Bryn."

The blond paused, considering, then shook her head, dismissive. "Yeah? So why didn’t she call?"

"God, I don’t know...maybe she was overwhelmed. Maybe she needs to think through the...ramifications. It could be a million things." Holly shrugged. "Why haven’t you called her?"

Bryn stiffened. "No fucking way. It’s...humiliating."

"Huh?" Holly was astounded. "What...you’re going to stand on honor, here?"

"Nah." Bryn managed a small grin. "It’s just that...it really needs to come from her, Holly. I can’t chase her any more."

"How long are you going to wait?" Holly looked over at her friend. "Fifteen years, like those women in that novel you gave me to read?"

"It was eighteen years." Bryn sipped her tea.

"Fifteen."

"Eighteen."

"Fifteen."

"Come on, I just read the damn thing again, it was eighteen." Bryn was getting annoyed.

Holly fell silent. "Um...you know, maybe reading those romances isn’t the best idea right now."

"Oh, I don’t know." Bryn produced a mirthless laugh. "I’m enjoying the parts where people get thrown across a room."

"Bryn...."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Hol. I just don’t like being made to feel foolish, you know? I’m just tired, and fed up, and this cast is driving me nuts." She smiled at her friend, and reached for an Oreo. "I’ll get over it."

******

It’s really crazy tonight. Dana rubbed her neck, the muscles stiff from the tension and the hours on her feet. When’s the last time the EW was this busy? I thought everybody was going away for Thanksgiving. But every time we dig out from one disaster, two more roll in.

She finished her exam and stepped out of the trauma room, turning to the nurse in the hallway. "As soon as those two units of blood arrive, start running them in." She looked back at the patient. "My guess is his crit’s no more than 20."

She didn’t hear a reply, and glanced over. The nurse, a slim brunette, was glaring at her, then turned away.

Huh? Dana was puzzled, then pissed. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The nurse looked up, dislike evident in her eyes. "No...I’ll hang the blood." Her voice had a vicious edge.

What’s going on here? Dana strode over, standing close, using her size to her advantage. To her surprise, the smaller woman didn’t seem intimidated. The surgeon’s voice became soft, and dangerous. "Do you have a problem with me, then?"

The nurse’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Dana leaned back. She laced her words with irony. "Perhaps we should talk about it."

"You don’t want to know." The anger was obvious.

"Try me." Dana was getting annoyed. There are three major trauma cases down here right now, and I have to deal with this shit?

Cassie was furious, and let it show. "Yeah, I do have a problem with you. Bryn Mallory’s a friend of mine...and I really don’t like the way you messed with her."

Dana’s mind went blank as she momentarily struggled to catch her breath. She leaned back against the wall. Fuck...fuck. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Cassie whirled on her, her pent-up emotions exploding. "You know perfectly well what I’m talking about." She spat out the words. "So, what happened? Bryn finally tells you she’s attracted to you...and you freak out at the idea that a woman might like you and break her leg?" The brunette sneered. "Well, pardon me, but you do seem sort of butch, you know? Lucky for me, I never tried to hit on you." She shook her head. "I always knew you were an arrogant bitch...never realized what a complete piece of shit you are, though." She turned away.

Dana just looked at her, disbelieving. "That’s not what happened."

The nurse snorted. "I saw her here in the EW when she came to have her leg examined. How could you do it? She’s the nicest person in the world."

Dana’s heart was pounding. No...I can’t believe... "Is that what Bryn told you?" The words came out, a tortured croak.

Cassie stopped. "She wouldn’t talk about it. But she was crying...telling me that you hurt her."

Dana felt her soul grow cold. "I never hit her."

Cassie stared back. "You hurt her."

Dumbly, Dana looked at the nurse. There was nothing she could say. The pain inside became almost unbearable, and she turned and walked down the hall, Cassie’s accusing eyes remaining on her back.

******

It happened when Bryn had stopped expecting it. It was almost 7 p.m., though in late November it was hard to judge the time by looking out her office window--it got dark so early. Only one more week of this cast. She wiggled her toes. I can’t believe I survived five weeks with crutches. At least they had helped preserve some of her upper body strength. Master Kim’ll give me hell when I finally show up again next week.

She turned back to her monitor, re-reading the abstract she had just written for her latest research paper, when suddenly Dana was there, filling the doorway.

Bryn froze. She could literally feel the blood draining from her face, leaving her lightheaded. The pounding of her heart filled the room. All of the carefully crafted lines she was going to use at this moment vanished, as one look at Dana’s face drew out her hidden soul. This time, however, that soul wasn’t teasing, or gentle, or provocative...but was cold with anger.

She stared at Dana, her eyes hard. "Give me one good reason why I don’t kill you right now."

Dana shifted slightly. "Sounds like a line from a movie," she replied evenly.

"Actually, it’s from a book." Bryn clenched her jaw, letting the silence that followed her words grow. Never thought I’d actually get the chance to use it, either.

Dana shifted again, still not entering the room. The movement of her shoulders betrayed her fear. "I...need to talk to you."

Bryn merely sat, impaling the surgeon with her gaze. The tension in the room grew, until finally Dana capitulated, spreading out her hands in surrender.

"Oh Bryn," came out in an anguished cry. "I am so fucked up."

"That’s supposed to be news?" Bryn shot back with a humorless laugh. She paused. "I’m still waiting for the good reason."

Dana closed her eyes and sagged against the door frame. "Please...not here."

"So?"

"Would you hear me out...? My place is just over there." Dana pointed to the highrises across the street, visible from the office window.

"I remember where you live." Bryn felt her suppressed anger heating up, roiling just beneath the surface, almost out of control.

Wordlessly, she shut down her computer, picked up her crutches, and collected her jacket and shoulder bag from the closet.

She turned to find Dana staring at the crutches, her mouth open.. "What..."

"Forget it," Bryn growled. It’s too late for sympathy, Doc. Where were you when I fucking needed you?

They made it to the apartment building in silence. Dana nodded to the doorman, who waved, distracted by the Bruin’s game on his portable TV. The surgeon hit the button in the elevator. Bryn’s anger was slowly burning. Being in the cramped elevator space with Dana was suffocating her, and she pushed out into the corridor when the door opened on the tenth floor.

Halfway down on the right, Dana unlocked her apartment door and turned on the lights. "I’m going to change my clothes," she said impassively. "I’ve been in these scrubs for two days."

"I don’t give a shit," muttered Bryn under her breath, but Dana had already disappeared into the bedroom. She looked around. Damn...what’s all this?

The room was filled with bicycles...the yellow racing bike was on rollers, set up for exercise; a mountain bike leaned against a wall; two more were half-disassembled on racks; and, hanging on the far wall, was a magnificent blue bicycle with red trim and the white letters "USA" down the stem.

Bryn was drawn to the one on display. It was clearly in mint condition, and looked untouched. It’s a trophy of sorts. Hanging next to it were several pictures. The first showed a much younger Dana in winter gear, with two dozen other skiiers. Printed in gold was "United States Junior National Ski Team."

Fuck. Bryn studied the other photos. An older Dana, taller, more muscular, standing alone with the bike that was now on the wall. Wearing a uniform that said "USA." A photo that Bryn recognized was of the US Summer Olympics team from eight years earlier. Holy Christ.

Bryn heard footsteps and turned. "You were in the Olympics," she said flatly. It was an accusation.

Dana nodded. "I took up cycling when I...stopped skiing. I just barely made the team...never did amount to much, internationally."

The revelation made Bryn even angrier. What else has she been hiding from me? This must have been one of the most important things in her life...and I didn’t know. She felt totally mortified. How did I delude myself into believing that she was sharing something of her soul with me? I’m just a fucking idiot.

Her leg was throbbing, so she moved over to the couch and sat down. "So?"

"So...I owe you an apology." Dana was clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"No, you owe me an explanation." Bryn felt the words escaping, unable to hold them back. "How could you do it, Dana? Why ruin a really good friendship? You could have found a better partner to fuck that night than someone with a fractured leg, zoned out on narcotics."

"It wasn’t like that."

"Then you’d better tell me what it was like, because it sure looks that way to me." Bryn grimaced. "You could have had me last spring at that D.C. conference, Doc...and then it would have been just for the sex. But we became friends...and that friendship was worth a whole lot more than having you go down on me."

Dana looked like she’d been struck. "That’s it, you see...we got too close...and I made a promise."

"Huh?" Bryn was still recovering from her outburst and couldn’t make sense of the surgeon’s words.

"Bryn..." Dana’s eyes were profoundly sad. "I truly thought at the time that I could, but I realized...as much as I’d like to...I’m just not free to get involved with you."

"What?" Bryn was confused, and her internal fury was increasing. "Oh...let me guess...you have a problem with commitment." She spat out the trite phrase.

"No!" Dana almost shouted the denial. "Damn you...it’s just the opposite!"

"What the fuck are you saying?" Bryn was shouting now, too.

"I’m...I’m already committed."

Bryn sank back into her chair, her body language echoing her complete deflation. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

She looked up to find that Dana had turned away, but was obviously crying. She shook her head, disbelieving. "You know, that’s the last thing that would have crossed my mind...that there was someone else. Aren’t I a fool." She didn’t bother to hide the disgust in her voice.

She wished she could get up and pace. This damn cast. She satisfied the urge by punching her fist into an open palm. "So...who is she? That bitch from the Ether Day party?"

"Huh?" Dana was startled, and it showed. "Carla? Jesus, no."

"Could’ve fooled me." Bryn knew she should stop, but had lost control. "Looked like she was ready to fuck you right on top of the dessert table."

Dana winced. "She always knew that for me it was only a fling. She wanted more."

"Seems like there’s a pattern here." You are so lucky that my leg is broken or I’d throw you through the window. "This your usual mode of doing business?"

Dana looked down at the blond doctor. I am getting my butt kicked...and I deserve all of it. She hates me.

"Look...do you want the story, or not?" There was an edge to Dana’s voice.

Bryn’s face worked, revealing her conflict. "Yeah. Go ahead...talk." She sat back, her hands still tensed into fists.

Dana paced the length of the room, then turned.

"Her name is Sara."

Her voice changed, deepening, somehow transporting Bryn back into the past. "I was seventeen...she was two years older."

The pain in Dana’s voice was so intense that Bryn closed her eyes. She could see the scene that Dana’s words were creating. Dana...young, still beautiful but lanky, awkward; not yet the woman she would become. Sara...blond, taller, more muscular...like a Greek god. Everything Dana had fantasized, someone who, with a glance, set her body on fire.

"We were both on the junior national ski team...I idolized her. She began to teach me downhill...her specialty. I improved. Some days she would win, sometimes I would...it didn’t matter. I loved her."

"And then one day...when I learned that she loved me, too...it was like I had finally come home. I’d never felt so alive. She was so full of life...all wild energy, like the mountains, the wind."

Dana’s words brought Bryn into the skiers’ world. Hours of training...traveling to Asia, Europe, South America...wild parties, athletic bodies, and always, always, the animal force of Sara.

"She was my soulmate. We swore to each other that there would never be anyone else."

And then one day, a training run on an icy slope...a missed turn, a body flying through the air, a crash...and red blood spreading onto blindingly white snow. Dana kneeling, holding the body, crying and crying for her lover to come back...but she was already gone.

There was silence. Bryn looked up, confused to find herself back in Dana’s apartment. It had seemed so real.

"I lost my nerve...never raced again. That’s why...that guy dying on Everest...and when you said you lost your nerve after the Challenger accident, it...hit too close to home." Dana looked totally spent. She looked at Bryn, her eyes showing ancient pain.

Suddenly, the spell broke, and Bryn’s pent up anger poured out. "You are just completely fucked up."

Dana stared at her, shattered.

Bryn continued, her voice laced with irony. "Do you expect me to buy a word of this shit? That was more than ten fucking years ago, Doc!"

Dana was speechless in her devastation. Bryn...Bryn...of all the people in the world, I thought you would understand.

Bryn was relentless, fiercely glad that her words were wounding Dana. This is what it feels like, Doc. "Whoever you are now, you’re not the person that Sara loved, that’s for sure." She looked at Dana’s stricken face, and her voice broke. "God damn you, Dana...I’m bleeding out through this hole in my heart, and you’re the only person who can stop it!"

She hauled herself to her feet on her crutches and made her way to the door. About to turn the handle, she stopped, looking back. Dana was sitting on the couch, motionless.

"You know, I really, really like you, Doc. But there’s no way in hell I’ll compete with a dead woman."

She turned and left, leaving Dana alone in the silent room.

******

Continued in Part 7

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