AN: I actually wrote this a while ago, but forgot to post it. Sorry friends! I hope you like this rambling about Doreen.
Disclaimer: I do not own Helix. Sci-fi does.
For Alan, she was a sister. An older sister he sometimes loved to hate, but a sister none the less.
"Gloves on, newbie," Doreen had hissed into his ear his first day there, already suited up in mask and overcoat, ready to enter the tent he had helped to set up three hours earlier. When he had fumbled with the gloves and dropped the box they had come in, his hands shaking too hard from a mixture of nerves and excitement that he couldn't figure out the pressure seal that kept everything from getting contaminated, she hadn't just rolled her eyes and shake her head, like he knew she wanted to. Instead, she had pulled off her own gloves and picked it up for him, showing him the best way to get into the box without sending it halfway across the room.
When, three years later, he had been assigned his first lead position on a small E. Coli outbreak that had to be contained, she had been the first knocking on his door, her signature smirk present as she asked for the case details. They both had known he was going to choose her as his second- who else would he have wanted, and if he hadn't, it would have been hell to pay.
Within a few mission they became known as a pair, Alan and Doreen, one of the CDC's most efficient teams. To put one on a team and not the other became almost treason, a reputation the two earned with the number of containments and cures they had put under their belts. They worked well together, and everyone knew it.
Doreen had been the one to first push him towards Julia when she had noticed he had a thing for her, had been the first he had called to tell about his engagement, and the first to show up with beer and list of reasons for why he was both a fucking idiot and better off without her when everything fell apart.
Even as she grew older and had to take more times to recover between missions, she was still one of his constants. Whenever he had to go without her, it was her voice in the back of his head that reminded him. Eat some food before I shove it down your throat. Get some sleep before I sit on you. Relax and look again- the answer has to be there somewhere.
She had been the most constant family he ever knew.
For Julia, she had been a friend.
She had found her when she had first arrived at the CDC office building, lost and a little scared, staring down the wrong hallway with no clue as to how she was going to find her way to the right one. A brand new hire, just out of college, her normal confidence shaken by the fact she was half an hour late to what was probably the most important first day of her life, Julia had, for a brief moment, considered leaving. Apologizing to the department leader who had hired her and just going somewhere far away where she never had to deal with this mistake again.
But then Doreen had found her, had gently taken her by the arm and led her through the maze that was their job, and delivered her to the right room, even walking in and taking the blame for her being late. A joke with the head of the department about getting caught up in some story with the new 'glass scrubber,' and after a quick scolding by her boss for letting Doreen-a well-known blabber mouth, but one of the best they'd seen in a generation-get her sidetracked, things had gone right back on schedule. She'd been given her job assignment, a young man whose name she hadn't been able to remember for weeks until the day he finally asked her out had been set up to guide her despite the fact he had only been there two weeks longer than she had, and everything had fallen back into place.
Doreen had found her at the cafeteria, map and markers in hand, and had spent their one free hour of the day drawing out the best paths and reassuring her that no, no one would think lesser of her for using the map until she got used to everything, because they all had when they were new.
Doreen had been the one to warn her about Alan, about his over obsessive tendencies with his work and his inattention to the world around him when he got caught up in a job. But she had also been the one to help smooth over the wrinkles in their relationship, able to give advice for both sides so it all worked out. Doreen had been the one there to help her into her dress on her wedding day, and Doreen had been the first to know about the relationship with Peter when she hadn't been able to lie anymore.
Doreen had been the one to suggest divorce, had been the one to offer ice cream and wine when she felt right on the edge of breaking, and had been the one, when she had broken, to help pick up the pieces.
Doreen, with that mischievous glint in her eyes and that little smirk they all hated to see, had been the one to suggest Julia talk to the new recruit when she had noticed her staring at little Sarah longer than strictly necessary. And when Julia had denied it all, she had just laughed, shaken her head, and demanded that, when the two of them were dating, Julia try and deny it again then.
She had been the most supportive friend she had ever known.
For Sarah, Doreen had been a mother.
Not that she had needed another one, her own had been more than enough to put Sarah off the idea of mothers altogether. With her constant nagging about marriage and family and how these dangerous diseases were going to kill her one day, leaving her with a dead daughter and not the grandkids she had been hoping for. How she just needed to find someone, anyone at this point because 'she wasn't a picky woman,' and just settle down with them.
No, Sarah hadn't realized she needed another mother, and, had she realized what was happening, would have protested the addition of another one.
But Doreen, realizing there was another child for her to take under her wings, and with more than enough room to spare despite the dozens she had taken during her time at the CDC, had been subtle. A simple introduction with a brownie in hand, offering it to Sarah as if it would be a relief to have someone else take it. A gentle hand on her shoulder when Sarah was bent over the desk, forcing her to straighten out of the way so Doreen could check her work and relax her neck. An offered tissue when her allergies acted up, a tablet of painkillers when her head began to pound, and an almost obnoxious reminder to drink more water.
Doreen was subtle, and by the time Sarah had even begun to realize that, perhaps, Doreen was paying her a little bit too much attention, it was too late. Doreen had become a constant, one Sarah was under no pressure to get rid of anytime soon.
She'd become the woman Sarah, when it was the middle of the night and she woke up from a nightmare that she couldn't shake, would text to see if she was awake, knowing that Doreen would calm her fears with just a few well-chosen words. Who, when her assignment had to keep being pushed further and further back because she kept screwing up and kept getting the wrong answer to what should have been a simple question, reassured her with stories of how even the greats had screwed up when they had first joined. How people like Alan Farragut and Julia Walker and even she, the great Doreen Boyle, had fucked up more times than they could count, and still did on occasion.
It had been Doreen who had first noticed when her hands began to shake, and how often she got those migraines. Doreen who had suggested she go see a doctor, just to be sure. Doreen who, when Sarah had turned up at her door shaken and refusing to talk, had just sat her down on the couch and held her close, whispering that everything was going to be okay, even if she had no clue that it was.
It had been Doreen who had pushed Sarah to apply for the position with Alan, and it had been Doreen to give her her first congratulatory hug, practically sweeping her off her feet with the force of it.
She had been the mother Sarah had always wished she had, and eventually did, because Doreen had wiggled her way into that spot left so vacant by the woman who should have filled it.
For them and so many others, she had been something. A sister, a friend, a mother, a shoulder to lean on and a mouth for advice. An ear to listen and a helping hand when everything seemed so wrong. For so many, Doreen had been something.
Had been.