Copyright April 14-15, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Disclaimer: "E.R.," with its related characters and themes, belongs to Michael Crichton and others, not to me. "due South," with its related characters and themes, belongs to Paul Haggis and Alliance, not to me.  I make no money from this venture.

Pairings: Robert Romano/Luka Kovac, Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski

Dedication: This slashfic is for Paul McCrane and Ewan McGregor.

Wherein someone actually says "it's a pleasure working for Dr. Romano," Ray's courage is marvelled at, and Luka chokes on Carter.

        I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life up there in Canada.  Dogsleds, snowshoes, Northern Lights, and Fraser.  Nothing better.  But no matter how happy I was, I wasn't permanently stupid.  Even for that kind of life, you need money because you need supplies.  We couldn't live off the land entirely without probably dying.  Only problem was, we didn't exactly have jobs anymore.  We'd been gone too long.  Not long enough, but too long anyway.  Finally, after Fraser had been trying to bring up the subject as gently as possible and I kept preventing him from getting a word in about it - - I kept changing the subject, acting like I didn't hear him, anything to stop him from saying what needed to be said - - I brought it up myself.  He was relieved that I was facing the truth, but he was sad, too, like he didn't want me to realize the truth, like he wanted to keep the fantasy going, like maybe he'd secretly been glad that I hadn't let him talk about it earlier.  But now we did talk about it.  One thing we knew, no matter what we decided to do, we'd do it together.  We could be cabbies in NYC as long as we worked the same hours.  Fraser, a New York City taxi driver, can you imagine it?  But that's how desperate we were - - anything goes.

        We didn't go to New York, but we did go back to the good old US of A.  It would be hard to be in Canada and not do what we'd been doing; a change of scene entirely might shock us into action.  Besides, we'd been away from the States for a long time, and I wanted to make sure that they were still there.  Hey, maybe they weren't; we hadn't exactly been in touch with civilization recently.  For all I knew, Castro was running D.C. these days.

        We went to Chicago.  Couldn't stop ourselves.  Somehow just ended up there.  Stepped off the bus and there it was: Chicago.  So close and dirty and crowded and noisy, and after all of the bus claustrophobia, I just couldn't wait to go north again.  I just started walking north right then and there, like I planned on walking back to Canada.  Fraser followed me.

        No Diefenbaker.  Not anymore.  Don't wanna talk about it.

        Finally I slowed down a little.  I was walking fast from being upset and wanting to run away, and because man I am in great shape these days, used to going fast.  I told myself to calm down.  We had to find work fast; I won't tell you how much was in my pocket, but it wasn't a lot, and we'd be sleeping in a homeless shelter or the Y tonight just so we could afford food tomorrow.  Yeah, we'd seen better days financially.

        We'd need to eat something tonight, for supper; I would have skipped it but Fraser insisted.  So we bought a cheap meal and then just started walking again, nowhere in particular, keep moving so you'll feel like you're going someplace.  But we had nowhere to go and we knew it.

        It was late, just past midnight, when we saw this beast on the sidewalk up ahead.  I honestly thought that Chicago had been invaded.  Fraser walked right up to it; I waited for it to kill him.  It just huddled down onto the sidewalk and gave off this whining moan sound.

        "It's a dog, Ray."

        A dog.  Right, and I'm Martin Landau.  (That has nothing to do with anything; I'm just trying to express disbelief here.)  I walked closer, keeping Fraser between me and the beast.  It was dark and shaggy and big, like a baby Snuffleupagus or something, I don't know.

        "A dog, hunh?" I asked.

        "A female," Fraser said.

        "She got a collar?" I asked.

        "Ah, yes.  There is an address here.  I suggest that we take her there."

        Well, I hadn't planned on spending my night dog-walking, but I had nowhere else to be, so why not?  Fraser talked to the dog for a second, spelling out introductions and plans, and then the three of us took a walk.  The dog trotted right beside Fraser - - lumbered might be a better word - - just like Dief would have.  This dog didn't have a name or an owner's name anywhere, just the address on the collar.

        It took a while, longer than I expected, to get to where we were going.  What had this dog been doing, walking around at night all alone, that distance?  And without being taken in by anyone?  Well, maybe no one had dared to go near her.  Our problem was, when we got to the address, the place was a hospital.  County General.  Okay, the dog lived in a hospital?  Not a veterinary animal hospital place, either, I mean a people hospital.  We checked and double-checked the address, then went to the emergency room, which was the best place we figured to be open right then.  The dog growled a little at the waiting room but followed us (followed Fraser, like I did) to the desk.

        "Excuse me," Fraser said, and got no further than that little bit, because the woman at the desk - - young, pretty, dark brown hair past her shoulders, not entirely professional looking but who am I to talk? - - gave a little shout and said, "Dr. Corday!"

        "She's in exam - - is that Gretel?" a heavyset black woman with short hair asked.

        "Gretel?" a woman with an English accent asked, coming over at the shout.  "It is she," the woman said.

        "Didn't you operate on her?" the black woman asked.

        "Yes, I did," the English woman said, coming around to our side of the desk.  "Randy," to the first woman, "could you please page Dr. Romano?"  To us, "Where did you find her?"

        Fraser of course rattled off some street names.  I was just glad to know that the dog actually belonged here, although I wasn't sure why it did.  "So you've operated on her?" I asked.  "Can I ask why, or is that breaking doctor-patient confidentiality?"

        "Dr. Romano's in the O.R.," Randy said.

        "Gretel?"  Another accent, this time something European, and male.  A tall dark-haired guy with wide pretty eyes came toward us.  Boy was this dog popular.  "What are you doing here?" he asked the dog, kneeling down in front of her, getting in right close and petting her like they were best friends.  I figured that maybe this was the owner, but I was wrong.  The guy looked up to the English lady, then Fraser, then me.  The dog seemed to like him.

        "She was out wandering the streets," the woman said.  "Dr. Romano's in the O.R.; I don't suppose that we should tell him just yet or he'll leave in the middle of procedure."

        "Wandering the streets?" the man asked, rising.

        "Miles from home.  She looks fine; I don't suppose that she was injured in any way."

        "Dr. Romano will insist on an examination anyway.  I'll do it.  Unless you'd rather?  You were her doctor the last time that she was here."

        "And my mother won't let me forget it," the English lady said.  "Oh, excuse me," she said to me and Fraser.  "I'm Dr. Corday and this is Dr. Kovac.  This is Gretel."

        "Benton Fraser," Fraser said.  "Ray Kowalski."

        "Do you mind staying for just a bit, if you can?" she asked.  "I'm sure that Dr. Romano would like to see you."

        "Sure," I said.  "We'll just grab a seat."

        I examined Gretel and determined that she was as healthy as ever.  Robert won't stop feeding her treats when he shouldn't, but otherwise she's in perfect health.  I reprimanded her on her diet and asked Randy to page Robert as soon as he was finished in the O.R.  I stitched up a rollerblader's chin and checked on a cut eyelid before Randy told me that Robert was out of surgery.  I'd left Gretel in curtain three resting on the bed comfortably.  Knowing that Robert would be down at any second, I invited over the two men who'd brought her in: Ben and Ray.  Even sooner than I'd expected, Robert rushed in, short and balding, scrubs tucked behind his hips in that classy way that he has.  He took Gretel's muzzle in his hands, felt over her sides, spoke in alternatingly firm and anxious tones.

        "I gave her a thorough examination, Dr. Romano," I said.  "She's in fine condition.  Although I would recommend a stricter diet."

        He glared at me briefly and turned to Ben and Ray.  "Who are you?"

        "We found 'er," Ray said.  "Who're you?"

        "Found her?  Where?"

        Ben politely explained the circumstances.  Robert turned to Gretel and scratched her ears, asking her, "How'd you get out of the house?"  Gretel only looked at him, pleased at the attention - - every time that Robert's around, she's absolutely spoiled.  Fortunately for her diet, he's at work a lot, leaving Gretel alone with Rebecca, who's affectionate but watches what Gretel eats.  "That damned woman," Robert muttered, petting Gretel.

        Ben and Ray exchanged a look.  They probably assumed that Robert was referring to a wife, and not very kindly.

        Robert sat on the edge of the bed.  He's short, and I can't believe how many tall doctors are at this hospital, which only make him look shorter.  He's also lost so much hair that one might as well go ahead and call him bald, except for the swath of red hair from ear to ear across the back of his head.  He scratched Gretel's stomach and looked to Ben and Ray.  "Who are you?" he asked, brisk as always but lacking any irritation.  He was saving the irritation, I was sure, for Rebecca.

        "My name is Benton Fraser," Ben said.  "This is Ray Kowalski."

        "And?"

        "And what?" Ray asked.

        "What are your jobs, what do you do, who are you?" Robert insisted.  The first time I saw Gretel I was sure that she was as large as Robert, and if she wasn't, she surely weighed more.

        "Ben's an ex-Mountie and I'm an ex-cop," Ray said.  "We've been up in Canada doing dogsledding and exploring and eating pemmican.  We just got back today."

        "How long have you been gone?" I asked, interested.  How exciting it must have been.  Exciting in a positive way, I mean, with a positive thrill.  Some excitement is entirely negative: go to Croatia sometime, or an emergency room.

        "Long time," Ray said.  "Too long.  Not long enough."  He shrugged.  I could see already that he was not adjusting well. I could imagine the sudden change, from the open wilderness to the middle of Chicago.

        "Well, you've helped me, so if you ever need anything," Robert said, brisk and clipped on the surface, meaning it underneath, no matter how much it looked like he didn't.  There's a kindness to Robert that he hides very well.

        "If we ever need anything," Ray repeated.  "Well, if you happen to have an extra job or two hanging around, we'd appreciate that.  Otherwise..."  As unhappy as I was by the realization that they'd come back to Chicago without jobs, I was pleased to note that he wanted work, not a monetary reward.

        "Unless you're a pulmonologist, we can't hire you here," Robert said.

        "And if I were, you could?" Ray asked.

        "I'm the chief of staff," Robert said.

        "You run this place?" Ray asked.  "Wow."

        "Ray," Ben said, "perhaps we should leave these gentlemen to their duties."

        "Right.  Lives to save and all of that," Ray said.  "I always felt grateful to doctors, you know.  Cops do the serve and protect, and you save the ones we don't or can't.  Between us, I'll bet we've helped everyone in the city.  Hey, dog, good-bye."  He turned to go.  I felt as bad for his angry nervousness as I did for Ben's unhappy silence.

        "It's late," Robert said.  Ben, who'd been about to say good-bye, paused and said, "Yes," clearly wondering where this was going.  I wondered as well.  "When you left, a 'long time' ago, did you have someone keeping your place for you?"

        "If you think I'm paying rent on an apartment I haven't seen in ages, I must look richer than I am," Ray said, coming back to us.

        "Ray," Ben said, half to plead, half to soothe, perhaps a little bit to warn as well.

        "Since you've brought Gretel in out of the cold," Robert said, "maybe I could do the same for you.  You'll need some roof over your heads before you go out job-hunting in the morning."

        This was a surprise.  A pleasant one, but more than I'd expected, and a little tricky.  Just then Yoshi popped his head in and said, "Dr. Kovac, gunshot in two minutes."  I thanked him, excused myself, shook hands with Ben and Ray, and went off to do my job.

        Carter and I managed to save the young man's life enough to send him up to the O.R. with Elizabeth.  I cleaned myself up and asked Yoshi whether Gretel were still here.

        "She's in the waiting room with the cop and the Mountie.  They're going home with Dr. Romano.  As soon as his shift's over he's taking them home with him."  Yoshi looked for a moment as though he'd like them to go home with him, and, as someone who had looked at the two men, I could understand his feeling.  I wasn't interested in Ben or Ray myself, on more than a purely aesthetic level.  Really.

        My shift was almost over as well.  I checked in with Kerry and went to my locker.  Robert entered a moment later and came over to me.

        "Gretel's fine," I said.

        "Of course she is," he said.  He watched me change and close my locker.  "They don't have jobs.  They don't have more than twenty dollars between them."

        "Twenty dollars?" I asked.  I'd been down on my luck before, and sometimes it had been bad, but never as bad as that.

        "I invited them to spend a few days."

        "That's generous of you," I said, surprised but very glad.

        "They saved Gretel.  Anything could have happened to her.  I'm going to go home and kill Rebecca."

        We were alone, so I said, "I'll call you."

        "Call me?  From where?  Why?"

        "I'll call you tonight, from my apartment.  To make-"

        "You're not going back to your apartment," Robert said, irritated.  "You're staying with me, like you have for every night of the past four months, and for-"

        "You have guests," I reminded him.

        "They're lovers," Robert said.  "They'll keep their mouths shut.  And if you don't show up in my bed tonight, I'm going to have you fired."

        I smiled.  "All right, Robert, I'll be there."

        "Good."

        No one was around, so I kissed his mouth.  He smiled and left.

        I zipped up my bag and left also, bidding people good-bye.  Robert owns a car but I do not, and as we're going to the same destination, his home, one would assume that I would be a passenger in his car.  However, anyone believing that would be incredibly naive.  Robert is in a position of influence and prestige, but he is as subject to prejudice and gossip as anyone, and if it were known that he is bisexual, he would no longer be chief of staff, if he worked at all.  There is also trouble if I am outed as well.  There is also the problem of someone in his position of power seeing someone who works under him; this could be construed negatively as sexual harassment, or me sleeping my way to a job.  There are multiple compelling reasons for us to seem straight, and for us to remain professional on the job.  I address him as Dr. Romano and keep my distance while at work.  I realize that he is not popular, and I know exactly why.  I'm in love with him anyway.  I don't care if he's arrogant, manipulative, rude, crude, sexist, insensitive, or an unpleasant troll; he's Robert and I love him.  I like the way he wears his scrubs.  I like the way he gets what he wants.  I like the way he lets himself be sensitive.  I like the way he sticks to his guns.  I like the way he tastes.  He's an bastard, he's an asshole, he's an ruthless smug evil little toad, and I love him.

        I take the L through the city, then walk a bit, to get to Robert's home.  I haven't been to my apartment in five months, but as long as I pay the rent my landlady's happy.  It's less work for her this way anyway.  I suppose that Robert's home is my home, if I've been living there for four months, and spending a great deal of time there for one month before that.  It feels like home to me in a way that my apartment never did.  Walking there from the L sometimes gives me time to think about work (which can be truly depressing), or gives me time to anticipate sliding into bed with Robert, or gives me time to wish that Robert would be there (if our work schedules aren't compatible), or makes me so exhausted that I'm tempted to fall asleep on the sidewalk.  From my approach, I enter through the back door into the kitchen.

        Rebecca was there, kneeling on the tiled floor, arms full of Gretel.  "Luka," she said, rising quickly.  She used to call me Dr. Kovac, then the compromise of Dr. Luka, but I got her to drop my title.  Robert just dumped me into her life without warning; he's never had a male lover before and I don't think that she knew what to do with me at first.

        In speaking, I call Robert by his name only to his face.  And to Gretel.  (Yes, I speak to the dog on occasion.  It's Robert's influence.)  At the hospital, as I mentioned, I refer to him as Dr. Romano, and I do the same with Rebecca because it's what she calls him.  "Dr. Romano's home?" I asked.  "Has he brought Ben and Ray?"

        "Yes, there are two gentlemen with him."  She was too professional to show her curiosity and slight anxiety, but I knew that she had to be worried.  Robert's social life consisted of medical banquets and myself; now he was bringing men home with him.  Maybe she thought that they were Robert's new gay friends or, god forbid, more lovers.  No, I wasn't about to share Robert with anyone, no matter how good-looking.  "I've just shown them to their rooms.  Dr. Romano says that they'll be here for the week."

        "They found Gretel," I said.

        "Oh, where was she?" Rebecca asked, and I could see how distressed she'd been by Gretel's disappearance.  "I'll make them a great breakfast to thank them.  I couldn't imagine where she'd gone, I only had my back turned for a moment.  I was so worried; I was sure that she'd be lost for good, or hurt, people can be horrid sometimes, maybe she'd be struck by a car.  I just knew that Dr. Romano would be furious, I was sure he'd fire me."

        "He wouldn't fire you," I told her.  "You know he'd never find anyone else to put up with him as you do."

        "Oh," she objected, "it's a pleasure working for Dr. Romano."

        "I have a whole hospital of people to disagree with you," Robert said, striding into the kitchen.  Gretel got up and jumped up, paws on his shoulders.  I'll never know how he keeps from falling over when she does that; he doesn't even move back a step or adjust.  She licked his face and he kissed her right back.  He was in his heavy robe.  "Where'd you put Ray and the constable?" he asked Rebecca.  He actually has a nicely taut, muscled body.  It's a stereotype to describe short people as having compact bodies, but he does.

        "I put Constable Fraser in the green room and Detective-"

        "You put them in separate rooms?"

        "Yes, Dr. Romano."

        "Don't be surprised if they're in the same room come morning," he said.

        The one thing I feel bad for Rebecca about is that she adjusts her schedule according to Robert's.  Whatever his working hours, he comes home to find a nice meal freshly prepared.  When he stays late at the hospital, or he has a sudden meeting or an emergency surgery, he always comes home to find a warm meal waiting.  At first I thought that he'd ordered Rebecca to plan her day around his hours, and I was appalled at his arrogance in making her wait up until three am just because he had a late shift, until he noticed my reaction and told me that he'd told her to stop but she kept doing it on her own.  Normally, when Robert tells someone to stop, that someone stops, but Rebecca was actually disobeying him to take better care of him.  She's been working for him since he moved into this place.  She lives here.  They're a cosy family in their own way, Robert and his housekeeper and his dog.  Rebecca's his wife, his mother, his baby-sitter, and his servant all at once.  (In saying baby-sitter I meant that she looks after Robert, but if pressed I might tell him that I mean that Rebecca takes care of Gretel.)

        Rebecca took a moment to absorb what he'd said, just a moment, and then she said, "I hope that I haven't offended them."  She started to get out Robert's meal.

        "Have they told you that they're lovers?" I asked him.

        "No," he said.

        "How can you be sure?"

        He looked at Gretel for sympathy, clearly intimating that he was surrounded by fools.  He didn't bother to answer my question, choosing instead to tell Rebecca, "They'll be looking for work.  If they say anything about it tomorrow, tell them that you've heard of a place on Ashton St. that's hiring security guards.  Lots of ex-cops find jobs as security guards.  It's a tech company, and it's really interested in security, so it pays well."

        "How did you hear about it?" I asked him.

        "Called around asking if anybody was hiring.  Kevin Enright owns the company."  He slapped Gretel's sides and she took the cue to get down.  He adjusted the robe on his shoulders and sat at the table.  Rebecca had set a place for me; I thanked her.  Robert told her to go to bed, but we all knew that she wouldn't go until we'd finished eating and she could clean up the kitchen.  I'm perfectly capable of putting away dishes, and so is Robert, but Rebecca prefers not to sleep until everything's completed to her satisfaction.  Robert keeps trying anyway.

        I'd assumed that Robert would tell our houseguests that they'd see me again.  Apparently he hadn't.  The next evening as I was finding my coat on my way out of the house, they were coming in from their job hunt.

        "Hey!" Ray said.

        "Dr. Kovac," Ben said, shaking my hand.

        "You're here?" Ray asked.  "You're here.  Why are you here?"

        "I live here," I said.

        "You live with Dr.-" Ray's blue eyes widened and his tone went from confusion to informed shock.  "You live with Dr. Romano?"  I could see revelations sparking in his mind: I was gay, Robert was gay, I lived with Robert, Robert and I were lovers, Robert and I were together?!

        "Yes, I live with Dr. Romano," I said.  "Unofficially."  They got the hint.  I wasn't surprised.  "Have you found a job?"

        "Yeah, it's not too high-action but it pays great," Ray said.  "Security guards - - whoa, big excitement - - for some computer guy."

        "I hear that a lot of law enforcement people go into security work," I said.

        "Yeah, well, if it were some dinky shopping mall I wouldn't do it, but this guy's real into paranoia and acts like we're in some spy novel, so it's sort of interesting," Ray said.

        "Miss Rebecca suggested it," Ben said.  "We must remember to thank her."

        "Rebecca's great," Ray said.  "I sort of thought that she might be Dr. Romano's wife, or girlfriend.  Or is she?"

        "Rebecca is Dr. Romano's housekeeper," I said.  "She'll be flattered that you thought otherwise."

        "Will she?" Ray wondered.  Ben frowned at him.  I was amused; I know all too well what other people think of Robert.  Sometimes I think it myself.

        "I must get to the hospital," I said.  "Congratulations on your employment."

        "We'll be seeing you around, I guess," Ray said.  "Do you have a first name or do we call you Dr. Kovac?"

        "Luka," I said.

        "Are you Croatian?" Ben asked.

        "Yes, I am."

        "How'd you know that?" Ray asked Ben.  I was rather curious myself.

        "Luka has a rather heavy accent, Ray."  Ben seemed to find that explanation sufficient.  Ray rolled his eyes and motioned for me just to go.  I left, pleased with my new acquaintances.

        Robert's hours are not limited to standard working hours by any means.  He works longer and harder than anyone else in the building, and since I realize how long and hard we all work, that's saying a lot.  He seems to think that he needs to be a full-time administrator, a full-time surgeon, and a full-time overseer of every corner of the hospital.  Twenty-four hours a day are not enough for Robert.  I spend more time in his bed than he does.  I know that having someone to come home to makes a difference for him; although he does not by any means ensure that our schedules coordinate, he tends to get in more overtime while I'm at the hospital, and he works less overtime when he knows that I'm at home waiting for him.  I don't know if he knows that I've noticed it.  I don't even know whether he's noticed it, although I believe that he has.

        When I got to the hospital, I walked into a crisis.  What with one patient and another, some major traumas and some minor problems and some small complaints that ended up being symptoms of something I didn't want to diagnose (have you ever looked into someone's eyes and said, 'You're going to die, I'm sorry'?), I didn't get time to breathe for a while.  Finally I realized that I actually could pause for a moment, and I decided to grab the opportunity to find something to eat.  Just as I was about to get my coat, Dr. Green came to me.

        "Luka, do you have a moment?  I'd like to talk with you."

        "Is something wrong?"  Clearly something was; he looked like someone who didn't want to be talking to me.  Dr. Green's a professional and a good man; he was here to do an unpleasant duty rather than have someone else do it.  I admire that in him, that he shoulders the unpleasant responsibilities.

        "I just want to speak to you privately," he said.  I knew that this was about me.  I tried to remember: had I misdiagnosed someone, had I prescribed something wrong, had someone died due to my negligence?  We walked to an exam room together and closed the door.  Carter and Lucy had been stabbed here.  "Luka, has anything happened?  Is there anything that you want to tell me?"

        "No," I said honestly, wondering what was happening.

        "I know that hospital politics can be difficult," he said.  "I want you to know that you can come to me with any problem that you have."

        How could I be blind?  I knew exactly why he wanted to speak to me.  "I'm not having any problem," I told him.

        "You're sure."

        "I'm sure."  Let it go, Mark, just let it go.  Please.

        "Someone spoke with me today.  He overheard something last night."

        "Overheard what?"  Last night, what time last night, what did I do last night?

        "Right before your shift ended.  When you were talking with Dr. Romano."

        I've never wanted to murder anyone.  Never.  Suddenly, I did.  Who had overheard?  "By the lockers?"

        "Yes."

        I didn't know what to say.  I didn't want to tell Mark the truth, because I was hoping to talk my way out of this disaster.  I hated to lie to Mark, because I thought very highly of him.  And if I lied now, and the truth still came out, how would that look?  Would it be better to tell Mark the truth, make a confession, and beg him to keep quiet?  He might look the other way.

        "Luka, is there anything that you'd like to tell me?"

        "I'm still not sure what you're saying to me.  Someone overheard something?  You weren't here last night," I remembered.

        "I am the attending," Mark said, "and some people feel more comfortable with me than with Kerry."

        "What did I say to Dr. Romano?" I asked.

        "It's what he said to you.  Luka, in the past people have made sexual harassment charges against Romano.  He has a history-"

        "Sexual harassment?"  Oh my god, they thought that Robert was sexually harassing me?  I'd never expected this, I'd never considered it.

        "I wanted to speak with you, to hear what you have to say, before I report it," Mark told me.

        "Report it?" I asked.  "Report what?"  Assuming that Mark wasn't using the generic he, the eavesdropper was male.  Who'd been here?  Yoshi, Carter, Malique, had Dave been there or-

        "You can tell me," Mark said.

        "There's nothing to tell."  Well, there was a lot to tell, but not in that vein.

        Mark waited.  He seemed to be trying to make a decision.  "Luka, I have to do this.  Other people have accused Dr. Romano of sexual harassment and nothing's come of it, so he keeps doing it.  I'm asking you, did Dr. Romano say to you last night that if you didn't go to his bed, 'show up in his bed,' that he would have you fired?"

        Oh god, that was almost verbatim, wasn't it?  I remembered Robert saying something like that last night.  But it was just something that he said, it didn't mean, he would never...  "No."

        "Then I'm sorry for wasting your time."  Mark left me.

        I had to warn Robert.  But I couldn't.  If I went to him, would that make me look guilty or innocent?  Should I avoid him from now on?   Should I avoid Mark?  Should I mention this to Mark and ask questions, or should I let it go and pretend that it didn't matter?  If my lies were true, how would I act?  And I had lied, I knew that I had lied, of course Robert had said that to me, but it hadn't been sexual harassment.  I didn't find sexual harassment funny, I didn't take it lightly, and if I were being sexually harassed I would put an end to it one way or another, but my relationship with Robert had never been about that.

        Fortunately or unfortunately, I didn't get to take any action on this situation, because another trauma came in.  I concentrated on my work to the exclusion of my worries over Robert.  I trusted that, for the moment, whatever was happening was between Dr. Green, the accuser, and myself.

        I was scrubbing the toilet when the front doorbell chimed.  I hear that bell rather infrequently; occasionally there's a delivery of some sort, but generally the doorbell's silent.  I stripped off my gloves and tried to fix my hair as I ran downstairs.  I checked the peephole and saw a tall, skinny, balding man with glasses and no chin standing on the doorstep.  I opened the door and said, "May I help you?"

        "I'm Mark Green."

        A name I knew as well as my own, from overhearing Dr. Romano and Luka's conversations.  "Dr. Green.  Dr. Romano's not here."

        "Do you mind if I wait for him?"

        "Not at all, please, come in."  He did, and I closed the door as I asked, "May I take your coat?"

        "Thank you.  I take it you've heard of me."

        "I hear some of the hospital gossip," I said, hanging up his coat in the closet.  I tried to remember if any of Luka's things were anywhere to be seen.  Probably not unless Dr. Green went up to Dr. Romano's private suite, which was highly unlikely.  "May I get you anything?  Coffee?"

        "Coffee would be great, thanks."

        "You're just coming off your shift?" I asked, as he followed me to the kitchen.

        "Yes."  I wondered why he didn't just talk to Dr. Romano at the hospital, then; maybe he saw it in my face (I hoped not) because he said, "I have something sensitive that I'd rather discuss in private."

        I'm too professional to start asking nosy questions on that sort of topic, so I said, "I don't suppose that a busy emergency room is really the place for any discussion."  Gretel walked in then and Dr. Green said, "I hear that you've been a patient there recently."

        "She knows better than to run off like that," I said.  "Scaring everybody, getting into trouble."

        Dr. Green and I talked for a while.  Since I couldn't very well leave the man alone while I ran up to finish the bathroom, I kept him company and then started supper.  After some time, I heard the front door, other familiar sounds.  "Rebecca," Dr. Romano's voice called, "am I hallucinating or is Mark Green's coat in my closet?"  He came into the kitchen as I handed Dr. Green another coffee mug at the table.  "Isn't this cosy?"

        "Robert," Dr. Green said.

        "You've invited Mark to dinner?" Dr. Romano asked me.  I hoped desperately that Luka wouldn't come home soon.  Dr. Romano said, "You'd better call my other guests and cancel, then," and I didn't know whether that rude sarcasm was meant to be code or not, but I took it as such and excused myself.  Upstairs, I cleared the bathroom of my cleaning supplies and used the phone to call the hospital.  I got hold of Luka and said, "It's Rebecca.  Don't come home."

        "All right," he said.  "Thank you for calling."  And he hung up.  I didn't know whether he knew what was happening or not, but he must have realized that I hadn't gone off the deep end.  I knew very well that if Luka walked into Dr. Romano's kitchen like always, and Dr. Green was there, that Dr. Green wouldn't take it matter-of-factly.  I hurried downstairs and asked Dr. Green whether he'd be staying for dinner.

        "No," Dr. Romano said.  "This won't take long, will it?"

        "I hope not," Dr. Green said.  "Could we talk in private?"

        "About what?"  Dr. Romano was seated casually at the table, feeding Gretel treats that I knew she shouldn't have.  He was acting as though Dr. Green were in his home regularly.

        "It's a confidential matter, Robert."

        I liked Dr. Green very much, but I didn't like the way that he said "Robert."  Maybe because I'd only heard that word from Luka's lips, and Luka said it in a far different tone, no matter what the circumstance.  I'm the first to admit to Dr. Romano's shortcomings, but I didn't like how Dr. Green regarded him.  As though Dr. Romano were contemptible.  I'd never met Dr. Green, and I'd never heard his side of his relationship with Dr. Romano, and maybe Dr. Romano had done something, or some things, to warrant Dr. Green's tone.  But not in my home.

        Okay, it's not my home, it's his home, I just work here.  Still.

        I get paid to live with a rich doctor.  Two of them, really.  Isn't life fun?

        Luka's handsomer, and friendlier.  Dr. Romano...has trouble being warm.

        Dr. Romano relented and they went to his study.  I resisted the urge to eavesdrop and put away the dog treats.

        I closed the door and sat behind my desk.  "What's so important that you've graced my home?"

        Mark remained standing before me, across the desk.  "I know that there have been allegations against you in the past, Robert.  Allegations of sexual harassment."

        Maggie Dolan.  Lizzie.  "I thought that was cleared up."  They made me acting chief of staff the same day, didn't they?

        "The charges have always been dropped.  Nothing's ever come of it.  Which means that you never learn that it's punishable, and you haven't stopped."

        "Haven't stopped what?"

        "I know what you're doing."

        "What am I doing?"

        "Someone overheard you last night.  I spoke to Luka today and he denies everything, but I'm not going to let it rest.  I won't let you continue to harass my staff.  Maggie, Elizabeth, Luka - - it's going to stop, Robert."

        "You think that I'm harassing Dr. Kovac?!"  I was on my feet.  Not that it gave me any great advantage.  I'm not that tall, I admit it, and I've briefly considered that maybe I should have found a shorter lover.  I know that some people think that I've developed a domineering personality to compensate for my lack of height.  It's possible.  I think that I'm just a bastard by nature, if not by birth.

        "Do you deny it?"

        "You bet the fuck that I do!"

        "The allegation has been made-"

        "Not by Kovac, and if I'm being accused of harassing him, shouldn't he be the one accusing me?"

        "Normally, I'd say yes, but since you have a history-"

        "History!"

        "-of sexual harassment, I'm going to-"

        "You're going to what?  Speak to the board?  Accuse me yourself, just to get me fired?"

        "I'm going to make the allegations public."

        "One person says that I've done something, and you just run off and tell the world?  Who is it?  You'll have to tell me sooner or later; if you're telling the board that someone says something, you'll have to produce that someone or you'll be laughed out of the room."

        "It's no laughing matter.  I was hoping that you'd be honest about this, Robert."

        "I'll be honest when you're open-minded."

        Mark left.

        "Fuck it!" I shouted, and threw something - - my phone, maybe.

        When I was feeling less violent, I went to shower and change.  Then I went to the kitchen and ate. I wasn't hungry, but since Rebecca went to the trouble of cooking, the least I could do was eat it.  I assumed that she'd called Luka.  After I ate, I called him myself, from my study.

        "Hello?"

        "Mark Green's been here."

        "Mark," he said with dread.  "What did he say?"

        "That I'm sexually harassing you."

        "I told him that you aren't.  Someone heard you last night when you said that if I didn't go to bed with you that you'd have me fired."

        Even at such an inappropriate time, his rich accent was stroking warm fingers up my spine.  "Do you know who it was?"

        "I think that it was someone male.  Someone who'd go to Mark, not Kerry, not me."

        "Mark's going to the board."

        "The hospital board?  To accuse you formally?"

        "If you won't accuse me yourself, he can't do anything."

        "He's already done something."

        True.  Here we were, miles apart, and worrying.

        "He's only doing what he thinks is right.  He's the last to act maliciously."

        "He hates me.  But I know what he's saying.  Hell, I'd accuse me, too."

        "I'll be asked to speak before the board?"

        "Probably.  So will I.  It won't be pretty."

        "Can't we tell Mark the truth?"

        "He won't believe it."

        "Why not?"

        "Come on, Luka.  I'm the chief of staff, you're an underling and new to the job to boot.  Can you imagine anyone actually believing that you'd choose to be with me if it weren't a power play?  You can have anyone that you want: Carol Hathaway, John Carter-"

        "Carter?" Luka choked.

        "Mark Green will not believe that you're with me because you want to be.  If you tell him that you are, he'll believe that you're lying under pressure from me, and he'll only be more adamant about pressing charges.  He'll get this witness to come forward, he'll pressure you, he'll hound me."

        "Even after the board dismisses him, he'll have his suspicions.  It won't be safe for me to see you."

        "Either I lose my job, you lose yours, we never see each other again - - so many delightful choices."

        "If he were doing this to be malicious, I'd feel better."

        "Mark Green on a holy crusade.  He'll be relentless.  He wants me fired."

        "If I try to speak on your behalf, I'll start saying how wonderful you are, and it'll sound very suspicious."

        "Because no one likes me, and anyone who does must be speaking under pressure."

        "Right."

        "And I won't get laid for weeks.  Months."

        "I'm sorry, Robert."

        "Mark Green and the mystery witness will be even sorrier.  What if you just say that I harassed you, I confess to harassing you, I get in trouble, and the whole thing blows over?"

        "That would damage your career."

        "And yours."

        "I won't do it.  I won't lie and ruin you."

        "If you tell the truth you'll ruin me, if you lie you'll ruin me, either way we're screwed."

        "I wish we were screwed," Luka said.  I laughed and hung up on him.

        I wasn't used to being in my apartment.  I wasn't used to the cramped bathroom, the "kitchenette," the cold floors, the small hard bed, the isolation.  Being in the small apartment, and hearing other people nearby, made me feel terribly alone.  I was used to Robert's bathroom, with its hot water and its spacious tub and its fluffy towels and its two toothbrushes; I was used to Robert's kitchen, with its conveniences and its well-stocked refrigerator and its crowded cupboards and its wide round table; I was used to Robert's floors, the plush carpets, the cool tiles, the authentic wood, the polished marble; I was used to Robert's bed, warm and wide and soft and inhabited.  Robert had books, and everything was clean, and everything was comfortable and luxurious, and it was like being spoiled twenty-four hours a day if only we were there to appreciate it.  Robert's home had a big friendly Gretel, and conscientious intelligent Rebecca, and Robert, god, Robert.

        Usually we had sex on the bed, in the bed.  Once on the kitchen table.  Three times on the sofa, once on the table in front of the sofa.  Once in the bathtub, on the only occasion that we took a bath together.  (We don't do it in the shower because I don't like to waste water.  Usually we do it right before the shower, or right after, or both.)  We've done it in his study.  We've kissed, groped, and had oral sex just about anywhere.  We've kissed in the hospital three times, very briefly, the latest being the other night when we were overheard talking.

        I didn't want to go back to the hospital.  I didn't want to be there ever again, not when I knew what was waiting for me.  I still couldn't think of who the witness could be, but did it really matter?  Well, if it were a doctor instead of an orderly, that would make a difference; but enough of one?  Was it someone who actually knew me or just someone passing by and overhearing?

        How seriously would this be taken?  How seriously would I be taken?  If I refused to press charges, could the board take action?  What if this started an epidemic and other people came forward to accuse Robert?

        I went to work.  I did my job.  I heard through the E.R. gossip mill that the board was convening to discuss Dr. Romano.  Everyone was interested, hoping that he'd be in trouble.  Everyone liked gossip, liked scandal, didn't like Robert.  I stayed out of it.  Kerry was running the E.R. and Mark was absent.  Someone suggested that Mark was talking to the board - - testifying - - and that idea became popular.  I noticed that the infamous Dr. Dave was missing, and so was Carter.  Yoshi wasn't acting any differently to me than usual, and neither was Malique.  If it were Carter, the charge would be taken seriously indeed, especially since the man had almost died in this very hospital quite recently.

        Robert came through the E.R. in a crisp dark suit.  He looked very handsome.  He merely passed through, spoke with Kerry, and went upstairs.  I didn't care if I was staring.  Just as I was ending my shift, Kerry got a phone call.  After she hung up she pulled me aside.  "Luka," she said, "the board would like to speak with you informally.  Do you know what this is about?"

        "Yes," I said.

        "Do you have time to go up there now?"

        "Yes."

        "All right.  Go ahead."  She looked concerned for me, and I wanted to thank her; Mark, Kerry, they were worried for me, they were nice people, they cared, and here I was hating them for their interference.  I started to leave, then had to stop and ask directions.  I knew the hospital, but I'd never had to face the board.  I was met outside the door by Mark, who opened the door and followed me in.  I faced the table of men, Robert at the head, myself and Mark standing before the seated group.  "Have a seat, Dr. Kovac," Dr. Baldwin said.  "Mark."

        I sat.  Mark sat beside me, completing the table.

        "Do you know why you're here?"

        "I've been accused of allowing Dr. Romano to harass me sexually," I said.  "I've been accused of not reporting said harassment."  They looked slightly surprised, and a few exchanged glances; they hadn't expected me to take this tack.  "I'd like to know who's accusing me."

        "You aren't being accused of anything," Dr. Baldwin said.  "Has Dr. Romano sexually harassed you?"

        "No," I said, "he has not.  I would not permit it."

        "Has Dr. Romano made sexual or suggestive comments in your presence?"

        "No."  Now I was lying.  Robert said all sorts of sexual and suggestive things to me all of the time.  Most recently, if I recalled correctly, had been, "Lick me," which could hardly be construed as anything but a sexual command.  It meant that, when I kissed him good-bye when I left for work, he wanted me to put my tongue in his mouth and - - well, at any rate, I was lying when I told Dr. Baldwin that Robert hadn't made sexual or suggestive comments in my presence.

        "Has Dr. Romano touched you in a sexual manner or in any manner that made you uncomfortable?"

        "No."  Well, unless one counted six months of sex.  I'd tasted my semen in his mouth - - what was more sexual than that?  Uncomfortable, well, when we'd first started to see each other I'd been anxious, I'd worried, and there had been an awkward moment or two emotionally and in sexual positioning, while we both defined boundaries and expectations.

        "Has Dr. Romano-"

        "Lee," Mark said.  "You can't ask these questions with Dr. Romano sitting directly across from him."

        "You're still here?" Dr. Baldwin asked Robert.

        "I wasn't dismissed," Robert said tightly.  "But since I have patients, maybe one of the doctors of this hospital should do some work," and he stormed from the room.  He was furious.  He was hurt.  He looked really good in that suit.  I watched him go.  Then I was asked question after question; they probed me from all angles, drifted off and then suddenly veered back to try to knock me off-balance into confession, wanted to know all about my work and my opinions on Dr. Romano.  I asked, finally, that they tell me who had pressed the original suit.  I thought that I deserved to know, and I told them so.

        "We're trying to keep this contained for the moment, as best as possible," Dr. Baldwin said.

        "You all know, and I can't?" I asked.

        "If it isn't true, does it matter?"

        "Of course it matters.  Someone believes that I'm being molested, and I'd like to assure him that it isn't happening."

        "Why don't you assure us?"

        "Why would I lie about this?  If I were a victim, wouldn't I want help?"

        "You might be under pressure.  You might be threatened.  You might be afraid."

        "But you so clearly want to help me, that I'd be eager to trust you in contrast to Dr. Romano's demonic manipulations."

        "Do you trust us?"

        "I believe that you're doing what you think is best."

        "What do you think is best?"

        "That you trust me."

        They let me go.  I went to my apartment and tried to sleep.  Then I realized that I hadn't eaten since...since when?  I forced myself to go out and buy groceries.  Then I went to my apartment, forced myself to eat, took a shower, shaved, and slept briefly.

        Ben and Ray were with me in the kitchen when Dr. Romano slammed his way into the house.  He stormed around for a while, in his study, then upstairs, and eventually worked his way to us.  I fed him, and he seemed so lost in his fury that he didn't realize that he was eating.

        "How was your day, dear?" Ray asked finally.  I marvelled at his courage.

        "The Inquisition was fine," Dr. Romano said.  "Luka lied beautifully."  He seemed angry at that, and maybe he was.  I certainly didn't like the idea of Luka in front of some board forced to lie to save true love.  It was all too awful.  Luka deserved better.  Dr. Romano deserved better.  He did something very un-Dr. Romano-like: he stood, paced, and sat on the kitchen table, feet dangling off the floor.  I couldn't believe it.  "Mark - - Mark Green - - thought that you were my girlfriend.  Does he think that I'd treat a girlfriend like I treat you?  That I'd force you to stay here and cook and clean for me, that I'd ignore you and berate you and-"

        "You did set him straight, didn't you?" Ray asked.

        "I laughed in his face," Dr. Romano said.  "As though a twenty-something pretty blonde would live only to serve me if I weren't paying her.  If I were paying her, which I am, then I wouldn't sleep with her.  If I were paying her and sleeping with her, that would be prostitution, and then I'd let the board attack me.  If I had a girlfriend, she wouldn't be someone who stayed around the house to cook and clean for me.  Some men like that type; I think that anyone who does that for fun and no profit needs psychiatric help."

        "So you're not sexist?" Ray asked.

        "Of course I'm sexist," Robert said.  "Because I'm better than everyone else on the planet, and I'm a man, so men are better than women."

        "Must be rough, being better than everybody," Ray said.

        "Do you know who has accused you?" Ben asked, concerned.

        "Carter," Dr. Romano said.  "Dr. John Carter."

        "The one who was stabbed?" I asked.  If he was talking about this, I was allowed to ask questions.

        "The very one," Dr. Romano said.  "Which creates sympathy for him.  Not to mention that he's a doctor, and he works closely with Luka, so he's created credibility.  Carter could get a dozen character witnesses, the board loves him for not suing or giving them negative publicity after he was stabbed, he's young and white and wealthy, his family has money and influence.  Besides which it's easy to believe that Luka's only lying because I've intimidated him."

        "Can't you talk to Dr. Carter?" Ben asked.

        "And say what?" Dr. Romano asked.  "He knows what he heard."

        "No one believes the lies you've given," Ray said, "and no one would believe the truth.  What if you confess?"

        "Good-bye career.  What am I going to do then, go dogsledding in the Northwest Territories?"

        "So you'll just stick to your story and wait for it to blow over?" Ray asked.  "Doesn't sound likely."

        "Carter and Green can't prove anything.  Luka won't change his story.  They have nothing but one comment and my bad reputation."

        "What if someone else comes forward?" Ray asked.

        "I haven't made any inappropriate comments for six months to anyone but Luka.  I've been a model of good behavior."

        I was trying to save this poor woman's life, trying to get her stable so that she could be sent to the O.R.  We needed a surgeon, and Peter Benton was busy with another patient; Dr. Romano came in, all arrogance and business.  I handled it as smoothly as ever, told him the situation, didn't bristle when he told me what to do, and let him take over; soon he and the patient were gone and I was left with Yosh and Carter.  It had been two weeks since I'd spoken before the board.  Two weeks.  Two weeks of my lousy apartment and my lousy food and my lousy loneliness and my lousy damned fucking small empty bed.  Two weeks without Gretel, big and warm and affectionate, as in love with Robert as I was in her own way.  Two weeks without Rebecca, who really was my only friend these days, the only person who wasn't a co-worker, someone who knew and liked Robert, someone who knew and liked me.  Two weeks without Robert, without that loud imperious voice, without that brisk swagger, without that tight warm body, without that sweet wide mouth, without those skillful surgeon's hands on me.  I'd had male lovers before Robert, so I could compare his body and technique with other men's, and I can tell you - - is it because of his anal-retentive personality? - - that his ass is very hot and very, very tight, and I've never felt anything better than being inside his body.

        I love him more than I loved my wife, and that's the hardest thing I've ever had to admit.

        I've woken up in bed beside him.  His body temperature seems to rise when he's asleep.  I'd never have pegged him for a snuggler, but we fall asleep (and awaken) curled up together.  I wake up and I hold him close and I touch his body.  I kiss him.  He wakes up and starts to kiss me in return.  We make love.

        This is, of course, provided that one of us doesn't have to wake up and run out to work while the other's dead tired and just coming off of a shift.  There are practical considerations to balance the romance.  I'm the newest doctor on the staff - - not a resident, nor an intern - - and I get lousy hours.

        I've resorted to masturbation.  It doesn't compare.  I don't even bother to try to make it interesting; I'm more interested in efficiency.  If it's not Robert's hand, there's no point in enjoying it.

        Robert's hands I thoroughly enjoy.

        A week later, I was called before the board.  I knew that they'd been watching me closely: Mark, Kerry.  Robert had been watched as well, especially when he visits the E.R.  What was he supposed to do, avoid the place?  How professional would that be?  For all of his arrogance and inconsideration, there's something very professional about Robert.

        I stood before the board; Mark sat beside me.  "Dr. Kovac," Dr. Collins said.  Was this no longer Dr. Baldwin's job?  "Is there anything that you are prepared to say regarding Dr. Romano?"

        "We'd like you to feel comfortable telling us whatever you have to say," Dr. Baldwin added.

        "I have nothing to say," I said.  What could I say?

        "You don't want to tell us why Dr. Romano called you at home on the night after he was heard threatening you?" Dr. Baldwin asked.

        "What?"

        "Did Dr. Romano call you at home that night?" Dr. Collins asked.

        "Did he call you often?" Dr. Baldwin asked.

        "Dr. Romano didn't call me," I said.  "Not often.  He called me that once, to tell me that Dr. Green had been to his home to accuse him of harassing me.  He wanted me to know."

        "Why did he want you to know?"

        "It's only polite to let someone know that he's being accused of something."

        "And he wanted to make sure of how you'd respond to these accusations?"

        "He wanted to know if I knew who'd accused him.  He said that Dr. Green would take it to the board."

        "And you knew how serious it could become."

        "I am not naive.  I know that this could damage his career and mine."

        "Yours?  How so?"

        "People have been talking about this for weeks.  It's affecting my reputation.  If it escalates, there will only be more damage."

        "So the two of you wanted to protect your careers.  Strategize.  Get your stories straight."

        "Did you consider accusing him yourself?" Dr. Collins asked.

        "No.  How do you know that he called me?"  I was sure that they knew; they weren't bluffing.  But Robert wouldn't tell; Robert was too smart to make that slip.  What had they done, checked phone records?  They had no right!

        "Do you often receive personal calls at work?"

        "No."  Now what?  Oh, Rebecca's call?

        "On the evening following Dr. Romano's call, you received another call from his home.  Dr. Green was there at the time and recalls Dr. Romano's housekeeper leaving the room.  Did she call you?"

        "Why would she call me?"

        "Didn't she?  To warn you?"

        "Why would she knew me?  Do you honestly believe that Dr. Romano's housekeeper is in on his sexual harassment schemes enough to call me and warn me that Dr. Green is speaking with Dr. Romano?"

        "Where've you been living recently?"

        "I have an apartment-"

        "What about a few weeks ago?  For the past few months?  You haven't been at home much, have you?  Your landlady says you haven't been around for a while until recently."

        "What did you do, hire a private detective?" I demanded.  "I work odd hours, I'm at the hospital a lot."

        "Last time you were here, you asked us to trust you," Dr. Baldwin said.  "Why don't you try telling us the truth?"

        "What do you want me to say?"

        "Tell us the truth."

        "What do you think that the truth is?"

        "I think that you know."

        "I will not charge Dr. Romano with sexual harassment."

        "Why not?"

        "He never harassed me."  I walked out of the room without permission.  I was ruining my own career, but I couldn't stay there any longer; I couldn't face them and their questions and their stares.  How dare they pry into my personal affairs?  My private phone calls, my home, my life.  They'd questioned my landlady and they'd monitored my phone calls; they'd been the ones harassing me, not Robert.

        I still couldn't believe what I'd heard, from Luka or from Lee and Kevin.  They'd interrogated Romano about the phone calls, too, which was the first I'd heard of it.  Was Luka right; had they hired private investigators?

        "Looks like he's still under Robert's thumb," Lee said.

        "Looks like he's still under Romano, period," Kevin said.

        "Is he stupid or scared or smart?" Lee asked.

        "What if he's telling the truth?" I asked.  "Not the whole truth, but about Romano not harassing him?"

        "You think it's consensual?" Kevin asked.  "Why in Hell would Dr. Kovac-"

        "Sleeping his way to the top?" Lee guessed.

        "It doesn't have to be that sordid," I argued.  "Luka isn't like that."

        "Whatever he's like," Lee said, "he's been lying to us, one way or another."

        "To protect their relationship," I said.

        "So why not just tell us?" Lee asked.

        "If you were getting fucked by your male boss, would you want everybody to know about it?" Kevin asked in return.

        "Now what do we do?" Lee asked.

        "Now we leave them alone," I said.  "I'll talk to Carter."

        "But if they are having an affair," Lee said, "should we just let them?"

        "Let them?" I asked.  "Don't you think that this disaster has ruined their relationship already?  Not only is the entire hospital watching them, and if they're ever in a room together no one will leave them alone for fear of Romano attacking Luka, we've also invaded their privacy to the point that-"

        "I get it, Mark," Lee said.

        I wished that Luka had told me from the beginning.  But would I have believed him?  At that point, I wouldn't have.  Now, I saw the truth, and I wished that I'd seen it earlier, before I'd ruined their lives.  Of course I didn't feel that sorry for Romano, and I thought in my own smug way that Luka was better off without Romano anyway, but was it up to me to decide?  I'd severed their relationship, I'd invaded their privacy, I'd forced them into lies and evasions.

        Probably Romano had said what Carter had overheard.  How many things does anyone say that, taken out of context, sound entirely different from what was meant?

        Now I'd have to tell Carter what we now considered to be the truth, that Romano and Luka were having an affair with full consent and no harassment.  I hoped that I could get Carter to believe me.

        So now a private affair that had been secret out of necessity was known to an entire hospital board, myself, and John Carter; an entire hospital was suspicious and prying over the sexual harassment issue, and if the truth leaked out matters would be worse.  I knew that it would leak.  But no one would hear it from me.  Except Carter.  Because he knew what he'd heard, and I couldn't tell him that he'd heard wrong, or that it had been a purely professional conversation.

        And then I'd apologize to Luka.  And then I'd apologize to Romano.  For the first time, I didn't want to see Robert because of my own shame.

        I woke up and wished that I hadn't.  Here's the thing: I'm forty years old.  I've been sleeping alone since my wife left me (thank God, Allah, and Jehovah that she did).  But more recently, as schedules allowed, I've been sharing my bed.  Sharing my body, too.  Let someone else take up residency in my house, in my bed, in my ass, in my mouth.  Now I'm alone again, and not just because he's at work and I'm not.  It's been four weeks.  A month.  I spoke again in front of the board a week ago, and the next day Mark Green came to me and apologized, and I realized that he knew the truth.  If he'd figured it out, no doubt he'd told the board and Carter.  Which meant that the entire hospital knows that Luka and I were having an affair.  No doubt they're all wondering whether we've fucked in the O.R. or the E.R. or my office or the stairwell or any number of fun places - - the morgue?

        I haven't spoken with him except as relates to business.  I'm never alone in a room with him, which makes sense considering the nature of our work.  If I were alone with him, what would I say?  Fuck what I would say: what would he say?  What does one say to one's harasser/lover/boss/ex?

        He hasn't come by to get any of his belongings, which are still where he left them.  Toothbrush, razor, shampoo, all of that stuff still in the bathroom; clothes in the bureau and closet; a few books on the nightstand, a CD still in the stereo, a pair of shoes on the floor in the closet.  Rebecca hasn't shoved it all in a box for him, and I won't do it myself.  If he wants it, he can come and get it.  If he's not coming for it, she can get rid of it.  It's not mine and I won't touch it.  I've had my grubby little hands all over Luka; I won't soil his belongings with my grasping touch.

        I miss Robert.

        It hurts.  It's made me realize how lonely I am.  It's made me realize how even though I'm becoming friendly with other people at work, how different it is to have friends and to have a lover.  It isn't that I'm just looking for sex, either, it's that I'm looking for that connection, whatever it is that draws me to Robert, whatever it is that's missing in other people.  I like my coworkers, even Dr. Dave.  I'd like to become better friends with them, the way I tried to be with Carol.  But it isn't the same as having someone to touch.  I can touch Robert.  He lets me.  God, I fucked him on the kitchen table.  I hadn't meant to, we were just kissing, and then I wanted to give him a blow job, and one thing led to another and I fucked him.  Right there.

        He doesn't lie still and let me fuck him.  He can't; it's not in his personality to be passive.  He thrusts up against me until it's like he's the one fucking me.  One time I grabbed his hips and shoved him to lie back flat on the mattress, and he struggled so hard against me that I got too excited and came.

        We always have sex face-to-face.  I'm told that it's easier to do it the other way, front-to-back, but I did it that way before, once on either end, and I didn't like it.  I like to watch Robert come, anyway.  He likes to watch me come, too, he told me so...

        "I like to watch you come."

        I choked on a groan and buried my face in his shoulder.  So good, so good, I was going to come any second now.  His free hand came up beneath my chin and lifted my face from his neck; I collapsed back on the pillow, my hands falling away from where they'd clutched his sides.  I wondered briefly whether I'd bruised him.  I hoped not.  His finger tapped my chin and I opened my eyes; he was watching me.  He wanted to watch me come.  I didn't want to come because what he was doing felt too good, and if I came he'd stop, and I didn't want him to stop.  I wanted to press against him, plaster myself to his body, and never let go, and he could just keep his hand right where it was.

        "Luka," he said.  I wasn't exactly breathing normally anymore.  When Robert's excited he gasps a lot like he's hyperventilating, and I learned that sometimes he makes these little growling sounds in between the gasps if you do something that he really likes.  When I'm excited, I pant.  When Robert comes, he freezes in one tense moment, very taut and very still, then he shudders all over and relaxes.  When I come, I yell and my back arches.  Robert says that my eyes roll back in my head when I come really hard.  When he first said that, I argued with him just so he'd make me come hard to prove himself right.

        "Luka."  The hand that had left my chin was stroking my inner thighs, pretending to soothe me but only making me want to come more.  It felt too good, and it was distracting me from his other hand.  It slipped back, circled a finger around my asshole.  This was in our first month, and before we'd actually had anal sex; he was just teasing me now.  But I'd been fucked before, and I knew what that would feel like, and I wanted to feel it with him.  That single finger, trailing delicately around my asshole, stroking across it, as though it were innocently wandering into new territories...there's nothing innocent about Robert, and there's nothing innocent about the way he has sex.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew that I'd been with other men, and I'm sure he'd guessed that I'd been fucked, and he was just teasing me, which was cruel.

        I gathered my strength, finding shreds of it between panting breaths, and managed to turn the tables on him.  I rose up and grabbed him, rolling until he was beneath me and flat on his back.  I'd dislodged the innocuously teasing hand, but the other hand still had a firm grasp of my penis, and I thrust into his hand.  Robert doesn't mind being on the bottom as long as he's in control, and to remind me of who was really on top he squeezed hard, and I came.

        A week later, I stopped going home.  Two days after that, we made love.  I topped first; he wanted to know what it was like on the bottom so he'd know how I'd be feeling when he did it to me.

        I really like being with Robert.  Whatever we do together in bed is great; he makes me very horny and very happy.  But whenever I enter his body, and it's very hot and even tighter, I know that nothing will ever be better than that feeling of being inside Robert.

        I sighed and felt sorry for myself.  Nothing like being in love with someone and never getting to go near him again.  I didn't think that he'd run off and sleep with someone else all of a sudden, but even knowing that he was alone hurt, because he wasn't supposed to be alone, he was supposed to be with me.  Me me me.

        "Dr. Kovac, Ray Kowalski's here to see you in chairs."

        Ray?  Ray as in Ben and Ray?  I hurried to the waiting area; Ray stood as he saw me.  "Hey," he said, "you got a second?"

        "Of course," I told him, and we moved to the relative privacy of a corner.  "Are you all right?  Is it Ben?"

        "Ben doesn't know I'm here.  Our job's going great, we have our own apartment, but we've been spending some time at Dr. Romano's, dropping by to see Rebecca.  Saw her yesterday.  She says that Dr. Romano hasn't been home in six days.  That's a long time, I'm thinking, and she's worried.  She says he's been here at the hospital the whole time.  I'm just wondering if he's okay."

        "He hasn't gone home at all?" I asked.

        "Is that possible?"

        "Yes," I said.  "It's possible."  There was food here, I'd slept here myself; but six days?

        "Have you seen him?"

        "Not much."

        "You know where he is now?"

        "You can have him paged," I said.

        "I guess I shouldn't have come to you, but I don't know anybody else around here, and Rebecca's worried."

        "No, thank you for telling me," I said.  "Let's find out where he is."  I went over to Randy, Ray following.  "Randy, could you please page Dr. Romano?"

        "He's in the O.R.," Elizabeth said.

        "That means he's doing surgery?" Ray asked me.  "Is that a good idea?"

        "Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked.

        "Dr. Romano wouldn't perform surgery if he weren't in the condition for it," I told Ray.  To Elizabeth, I said, "You've seen him?"

        "I can't get away from him," she said.

        I checked my watch.  "I'm off duty in another half an hour," I told Ray.  "Can you wait for me?"

        "Sure," Ray said.  Half an hour later, I was back in my real clothes and Ray and I went up to Robert's office.  I'd only been there once, and that was before Robert and I were intimate, back when I saw him as nothing more than a self-professed loathsome toad.  The door was locked, which was no surprise, since he was still in surgery.  Ray and I waited in chairs nearby; he told me about his Northern expedition.  An hour later we saw Robert come striding through the hallway in scrubs, gown tucked back behind his hips.  He passed his office on his way somewhere else.  We waited by silent agreement.  Then he came by again and this time entered his office.  Ray was up and across the hallway quickly and gracefully, knocking on the door.  "What?" Robert asked impatiently from inside, and Ray opened the door.  The door closed.  Ray was out again in ten minutes, coming over to me.

        "He has not set foot outside of this hospital in six days," Ray said.  "I talked him into going home tonight.  I think."

        I may be a doctor, but I'm not entirely self-centered.  I did know, however, that Robert's reluctance to go home was related to the fact that I wouldn't be there.  I was sure that he was regretting our separation as I was.

        "Everyone knows about you guys, right?" Ray asked.

        "I believe so," I admitted.  "I've heard various rumors, some more accurate than others."

        "Now I'm not saying that you should have sex in the waiting room or anything," Ray said, "but why can't you guys do like before?"

        "It isn't a good idea."

        "Being overworked and depressed is going to help patient care?"

        "Ray, that's hardly-"

        "Come on, do it for the good of your patients, for the sake of the hospital."

        It was a ridiculous argument, but all I needed was a tiny rationalization, and that one would do just nicely, weak or not.  When Ray and I parted ways, I went to Robert's home.  I entered through the kitchen just as Rebecca was hanging up the phone.

        "Luka!"

        "Hello," I said, squeezing her hand.  "Hello, Gretel, did you miss me?"

        "Yes, and she misses Dr. Romano, too.  I didn't know that you'd be coming."

        "Dr. Romano doesn't know, either."

        "He just called.  He'll be home in an hour."

        "That's good news."

        "It is."  I'd planned to stay where I was, but she added, "Why don't you wait for him upstairs?"

        Upstairs.  In Robert's room.  Bedroom.  Bed.  "Maybe I will," I said, and smiled at her, and went upstairs.

        Everything was neat and tidy, luxurious and spacious, just as I remembered it.  Also, my belongings were still lightly scattered - - a book here, a comb there.  I took a brief shower, then went to the bed.  I pulled down the comforter and slid between the sheets.  Oh, warm and cosy, it was a dream.  I fell asleep quickly.

        "Well fuck me."  I woke up at that.  Opening my eyes, I saw Robert standing by the bed, hands on his hips, looking down at me.  "Dr. Kovac."

        "Dr. Romano."

        He lifted the covers a bit and glanced underneath, presumably to make sure that I actually was naked.  Then he went to the bathroom.  I didn't mean to fall asleep again but I did.  I sleep when I can; you never know when you'll be called in for an extra shift, and my body's used to soaking up any available rest.  As far as I can tell, Robert showered and shaved and went downstairs to eat; he was downstairs when I woke up, disturbed by the sudden appearance of Gretel in bed with me.  She's allowed to do whatever she wants in this house, but the one thing she does not do is get on Robert's bed.  She'll lean on it, she'll put her paws on it, but she isn't allowed to be on the bed entirely, and she knows it.  I'd never even seen her try, and here she was settling in beside me.  I put an arm around her and fell asleep again.

        I woke up in time to see Robert standing by the bed.  He said, "Gretel," in a warning tone, and she left the bed without protestation, climbing down to the floor.  "Good girl," he said, and sent her on her way.  He took off his robe and draped it over the chair, leaving himself in dark blue pajama bottoms.  He came in to lie beside me, on his side facing me, eyes closing, and I slid closer, and now we were both asleep.

        When we woke up, he fucked me.  My eyes rolled back in my head.  My landlady won't be seeing me for a long time.

MatthewHaldemanTime.com