Victor opened his eyes, a wooziness creeping into his veins. This was the first time he slept in his own bed in several weeks. He had been so absorbed in his research he hadn't any time to himself. But things had slowed down, obscure diseases disappearing by the minute. There wasn't much to do at Caduceus, yet the only closure he had was working in the lab, distilling fluids, dissolving powders, weighing compounds. In fact, this one-day hiatus from his work was only caused by the incessant wheedling of all of his colleagues. As the almost-painful drowsiness persevered through his system, he felt a longing to be in the lab, working at the finest time: the lonely, serene hours of the night. Thinking about the lab finally calmed him down, and with that thought he managed to fall into the strong grip of sleep.
The next day, when Victor came back to work, everyone asked him how his day off was.
"Were you still thinking about this place?" laughed Derek.
"Did you get out any?" asked Leslie.
"Oh god dammit people, it was just a day off! How big a deal is that?" He left without another word.
When he came to the front desk to ask what he was commissioned to do, he got some very surprising information. There was nothing to do. No avian flu, no PDBD, nothing.
Victor didn't even know what he was supposed to do; boredom was not part of his job.
With a grimace he retired to his dark lab. What the hell was he supposed to do, sit around all day? Hands knotted, he slouched in front of his beloved distiller.
The door to his lab squeaked open. In came Derek, silly grin and all.
"KNOCK, god damn you! Get out!"
"Let me ask you about your degree."
"That's none of your fucking business."
Unperturbed, Derek went on to say, "According to Tyler, it seems as though your medical degree covers simple surgeries carried out with the assistance of another surgeon?"
Victor knew what idea Derek had in mind. "No. Don't even think about it. Surgery is so easy!"
Now Derek was slightly hurt. "A surgeon's job is NOT easy. Just come along!"
"Come with me. We've got a burn victim downstairs. Come!" Derek exclaimed, motioning forcefully.
Victor refused to budge.
Derek proceeded to take out a book that Victor had before spoken up against. Derek held it in the air and grinned. Victor's eyes widened. "Okay, then to occupy your time we'll just read this, then!
"My mother drove me to the airport…"
Victor stood up and knocked the copy of Twilight out of his hands and pushed his hands into his ears. "NO!!!! I'LL DO ANYTHING, JUST STOP!"
Derek knew it would work. They made their way to the surgery ward. They scrubbed up and entered the OR.
"Alright, the placement of the grafts will be relatively easy. I'll handle the plasmatic imbition, just worry about the burns right now."
Plasmatic imbition? Victor was a bit worried; he felt as if he should know what that is. At least he knew how to handle this surgery.
He took the dermatome and swiveled it to the patient. "Victor, the hell are you doing? The anesthesiologist hasn't even started to administer the anesthesia yet!"
"Oh… I knew that." He was scared to his core, worried that he could have exacerbated the patient's condition."
Once the anesthesia kicked in, Victor then swiveled the dermatome so it was at the ready. "The burn is on his chest, and we don't have any donor grafts left. We'll have to auto graft from his thigh." Victor lowered it to the leg. "Make sure you choose an optimal and flat area. Also, hold the dermatome steady, otherwise you could cause bleeding. It's better for the graft to be thin than thick." Victor started to sweat. He gripped the dermatome until his fingertips were white, and gingerly pressed the button. A whirring commenced and stopped abruptly. He released the dermatome and it swung back to its normal position. He picked up the new graft and placed it on the tray.
"Victor, what's wrong?" Victor's eyes were leaking tears from his nervousness… suddenly the emotional dams burst and they flowed full force when the EKG began to beep. "Oh shit… the graft caused the vitals to drop! Quick, grab some stabilizer and inject it!" Victor felt his insides begin to quiver and felt a sob coming up. He held it in, too proud to cry, and skittishly picked up the syringe to raise the patient's vitals. "Alright, his vitals are dropping faster, so work quickly."
Suddenly, Victor stopped. His mind drew a total blank and he couldn't remember what to do… he felt like he was standing there for hours, trying to remember what he should do with the graft…
"Uh…" Derek stood there, mystified at his hesitation and yet satisfied he had struck Victor at his egotistical core.
"Sutures?"
"Oh… Oh! Right."(a/n: this is actually accurate, there's no such thing as antibiotic gel, grafts are sutured in and then melded into the skin and kept alive with plasmatic imbition. The graft does leave only a few thin layers of skin, and is prone to bleeding.)
With shaking hands, Victor pushed the curved needle into the patient's skin, weaving a secure knot every few sutures.
"Hey man, don't worry about it, Victor. You're doing great."
"I know that."
Derek grinned; those sutures couldn't have been done that badly even by an intern.
After what seemed like an eon, Victor finally got done sewing the skin in. The patient stabilized, and an orderly wheeled him to the ICU.
Derek pulled off his surgical gear and walked out, shooting Victor one of his trademark aloof grins.
Victor only stared. "A surgeon's job is NOT easy!" Damn right.