Kay, I don't own `em... if I did, Romano would still be alive. So, obviously, I don't.

Well, this sort of just came to me while I was thinking about how hungry I was. I think y'all will be able to figure out who it's about (but I'll put it in my summary nonetheless). Two surgeons that we all know are destined to be together. : )

Please Review!!! It makes me feel happy.

~Natalie~ *********************************************************** He sat in the dark on a rather comfortable leather chair drinking a beer. He hated beer. He absodamnlutely hated it. Despised it to no end. But, it was the only alcoholic beverage in his refrigerator. So, he bit the bullet, and drank it. Anything to get his mind off of what it had currently been determined to settle on. Her. Of course it would be her, everything that ran through his mind was always about her. Always, no matter what. There was nothing he could do to stop it, it was inevitable that it would return to the same topic, but alcohol tended to get his mind off of that burning subject for awhile at least. And simply because he didn't have any bourbon left didn't mean that he was going to let his mind wander freely over her. 'No siree Bob' he thought amusedly to himself, no pun intended.

And so he sat there, drinking a god-awful substance trying to make everything all right again.

He tried to remember a time when everything had been all right. It, he decided, didn't exist. There really hadn't been a time when things had been all right. Not for him, at least. Sure, there were the ups and the downs. There were good days and bad ones. But nothing had ever been all right, and he didn't think that it could be. He'd tried to make it all right through meaningless sex with women he'd never see again, but it hadn't worked. He always knew that it wouldn't work. But, he didn't have anything better to do, so he'd tried it. Oh Lord how he'd tried it. He'd tried it again and again and again, but it never made anything better, let alone all right.

He'd long since given up on love. And sex. So, the only thing he had left was alcohol. He wasn't addicted; he could stop if he needed to. But, why would he? He wasn't going to quit something that momentarily eased the pain. That was just stupid. And, though he was many other things, stupid he was not. At least in some ways.

He wasn't perfect, he knew that. Maybe that's what she wanted though. Maybe if he were perfect she would love him. He scoffed at his own foolishness. 'That, my friend,' he said to himself, 'is the alcohol talking.' He had forgotten the negative effects alcohol had on him, like false hope. He had forgotten the fact that it often made him delusional enough to believe a woman such as her could love a man like him.

He petted the sleeping beast beside him with a lazy hand. She was the only female in his life. She was the only one that cared about him. And even she was a bitch.

The beer wasn't working. Perhaps it was the sour taste, or the fact that only people in trailers drank it, but it wasn't helping him tonight. Just his luck. He couldn't get his mind off of her. What was she doing? Was she laughing? Was she crying? Was she having meaningless sex with some stranger? Was she on her way over to his house to confess her undying love? 'On second thought, that beer is working' just not in the way he had hoped. It was furthering the delusions he saved for his dreams.

He wasn't naïve enough to think his thoughts at this point held any merit whatsoever. He knew that it wasn't possible. But, he didn't mind pretending it was. In the solace of his mind and in the hollows of his heart he could pretend. He could pretend that she loved him, that she wanted him, and that she even needed him.

And to fill the empty void in his soul, tattered by too much sorrow to bear, he could pretend that everything would be all right.

But, it was the empty part of him that knew it could never be so. It was the part that kept his defenses up that told him that nothing would be all right. It wasn't in his fate, his stars, his destiny... whatever the hell you wanted to call it... it just wasn't there.

But he could pretend it was.

And that's the only way he made it through the days. And that's the only way he made it through the lonely nights.

No one saw him as a pretender, and as a general rule, he wasn't. But when the nights got too lonely he turned to his imagination. He turned to the illusion that she could love him. That she did love him. He knew it was unhealthy, but so is walking down the street in Chicago. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore... except her. She was, in essence, the only reason he was alive.

Not because she would miss him if he were gone, but because he lived to see her. To hear her voice was the only reason he got out of bed in the morning.

But he never showed it.

He never showed the passion he felt so deep in his heart. He was too tired of being hurt, too angry at God, or the gods, or Allah... he didn't know who, and he didn't much care. He was pissed. Maybe he should be angry at the devil, it seemed as though he was the only one that could possibly be responsible.

Yeah, he hadn't made wonderful choices in his life, but the best choice he ever made was falling for her, though it wouldn't get him anywhere. It was a good choice because she gave him something to live for.

He sighed and finished off the beer. He hated feeling like this. He hated sulking in his never-ending sorrows in the middle of the night. He hated feeling worthless, he hated feeling useless, and he hated feeling utterly insignificant to the world.

He remembered a song from Les Miserables, Jean Valjean, he believed... it said something like "For I have come to hate this world... this world that always hated me." And that's exactly how he felt. He hated the world. He hated the world because it'd never done anything to make him feel anything other than pain. And he hated it with a burning passion. But, what was he thinking comparing his life to that of Jean Valjean? Everything was okay for him in the end. Everything was just dandy. He wasn't bound by chains; he got to be with his love... whatshername... Fantine... He had love.

And what did he have? He had nothing.

Contrary to popular belief, he was a normal kid. He had hopes and dreams for the future. He wanted to fall in love, get married, have 2.5 kids, and live in a little house with a white picket fence as much as the next guy.

He never wanted to become the way that he was. In fact, he never even imagined he could become the way he was. He thought he'd have the perfect life. He thought he'd be happy, he thought he'd be satisfied. But he'd long since realized that those childish dreams weren't ever going to come true.

He believed he was destined forever to be the lonely man that everyone hated. And he had come to terms with that. Yeah, it still pissed the hell out of him, angered him to no end... but he had come to deal with it. He was fine with it.

Until she came along.

He thought he was beyond those dreams, he thought he had moved past what he wanted so desperately so long ago.

He was completely wrong.

She had awakened those dreams inside him. He didn't dream about one night of passion with her. No, not with her. With her, it was different. In his dreams, he saw himself married to her. He saw himself loving her. It was something he'd never let himself do; love someone. But with her, it was different. Everything was so different when she was involved. He saw himself being with her forever.

But he knew that would never happen.

She saw him as an abomination. As a waste of human flesh. And who could blame her? Hell, that was how he saw himself. That's how everyone saw him. And they were right. He was a complete waste of God's time, of human flesh, of molecules, of life. He was a waste.

That's what he'd always be.

But he somehow felt that if he could be with her that everything would work out. That he would be worth something. That he'd be more than a worthless body roaming the earth with no real purpose.

But, again, he knew that was impossible. But in his mind, he saw them together and he was happy, even if only for a moment in time. And even if it could never be real, it gave him something... it gave him hope. Even if it was false hope. It gave him something to hold onto. "Hold on, when you feel like letting go... Hold on, it gets better than you know"... He'd heard that somewhere. He didn't know where, but he wished that it was true.

He'd always felt like letting go. He felt like letting go now. But she was what kept him holding on.

He loved her. There was no way around that. With every fiber of his being he loved her. He loved her every second of the day, every hour of the night. He loved her.

He shook himself out of the reverie as he put the bottle of beer down. He thought that things would never be all right... that things would always remain as they were.

But, people are always full of surprises, and Robert Romano had more than a few coming his way.

'Another wasted day' he thought as he walked upstairs to dream about the life he so desperately desired. 'Another wasted breath.'

But it wasn't. It wasn't a wasted day; none of his days were wasted.

And no breath he ever took was wasted.

Because something was bound to happen that would give his life meaning...

And there was only one thing that could do that.


There's more to come. I'm sort of "winging" this one though. So, I don't know where it's going.

Let me know what you think!!!

"Les Miserables" I don't own, of course (I've just performed in it). And The quote "Hold on when you feel like letting go... Hold on it gets better than you know" is From Good Charlotte, not me. Just letting you know.

Author's Note: I know nothing about alcohol. I've never tasted it (except ONCE when my friends tricked me on New Year's Eve, it was a chocolate thing that (I guess) had alcohol in it, some sort of Raspberry stuff. But, that's the only alcohol I've ever had, so ummm... sorry if beer actually tastes good or something. (and if you drink it, please don't be offended by the "trailer" comment... it was Romano talking)

~Natalie~ Pleaseeee Review!