See One, Do One, Teach One. Or, Bertram Chickering Jr., from his first day at the Knick to his last ― and then some.
circus
(day 1)
See, back in his day, Father was a fistfighter.
Collegiate pugilism mostly. Bertie doesn't know many of the details ― which is to be expected, honestly, but the evidence is still there. It's in the older man's body language. When threatened, he starts to load up on his right hand; he shuffles his feet and sets his stance when moving against another individual. He's ready to fight even before the thinks about it, regardless whenever he would even consider it.
Dr. Bertram Chickering Sr., as he is known, had grown up an angry child, growing up not quite poor but poor enough, a third-generation American and Southern, half-educated in the best South Carolina tradition until he, his father― Bertie's own Grandfather Thomas ―and three brothers all moved to New York for reasons both economical and unknown. Bertie is not sure what happened to his grandmother and Father's two other sisters. He knows better, even now, to ask. Scrapping with three older brothers is a given, though, Bertie imagines. He's never had that problem personally, he himself has only ever had a younger sister, but he can see it happening ― saw it with other children his own age, with their own brothers, and he could see it with Father. He was built for it. Not massive, but not exactly small, either.
Getting thumped by your brothers (wasn't one of them a lawyer, now?) and then, later, getting thumped by your classmates, was something that just happened. A proper man knows how to swing a punch, apparently. Father knew how to beat another man if it came to it. So did Dr. Everett Gallinger. And, so did around, at least, ninety-three percent of all the adult men Bertie knew.
Not that Bertie really knows from personal experience.
Dr. Bertram Chickering Jr. has never hit another human being, has never been hit by another human being, and, as far as he is concerned, he's not going to start on the trend anytime soon.
Partly because it's just flat out not in his nature, and partly because... Well, take one good look at Bertie Chickering and one can guess why it isn't he doesn't make a habit of looking for fights.
He might have inherited Father's brain (and heck, Mother's too, even if the other half of his genetic inheritance is never mentioned otherwise) but he's not exactly excelling in the vertical department. Bertie came to terms with that years ago. Dispaired, for a good period of time, but he has come to terms with the fact that, yes, he's a lot smaller compared to the rest of his peers. A lot more scrawny compared to the rest of his peers.
But he might just be smarter.
Still, that doesn't cut much ice when, as a doctor, you can expect that the rest of your medical school graduates have slugged it out for about just as long as it has taken them to get their degrees, and some, probably even longer. Bertie himself finds it quite ironic. Here they are, supposedly to do no harm and, ideally, help make people better, but oh, beating another man senseless with your fists in your spare time? Well that's just fine.
Bertie Chickering is not a man easily threatened. Flustered, oh sure. Embarrassed, probably more than he should be, but not exactly threatened. He has Father to thank for that, and a group of friends all older and larger than he.
So when he is introduced to Dr. John Thackery of the Knickerbocker Hospital and he's borderline on terrified, Bertie knows something is wrong.
Outwardly, John Thackery isn't much. Tall, sure, but he's also rumpled and underweight. Twitchy, too. But fueled with boundless energy and a desire to progress further and a sense of fervor that Bertie just flat out isn't used to. He's used to quiet people. Quiet intellectuals and professionals who murmur clinically, and back at home, equally quiet parents. So when on his fist day he's faced with Dr. Thackery in all his manic glory, Bertie is a bit out of his depth.
Dr. Christiansen is a little more sedate, but only in the physical sense. The man himself has the personality of a predator. "You came third in your year?" He asks, and Bertie feels, in his stomach, that giving the man the truthful answer is the incorrect choice to make. That speaking at all is the wrong choice to make.
Thackery waves his hands at the gray-haired, squinting one and makes a displeased noise at the back of his throat. "Those tests don't matter."
"Then what does?" The comment is sarcastic. Christiansen looks at Thackery, pointedly, with his eyebrows raised and a wry smile on his face. It leaves Bertie with the impression that he's sort of... intruding.
"Surgical aptitude, Jules. Desire. Drive. It's one thing for us to fight on the path of progress, but it's time to extend that knowledge to others. Those who in, what? Ten, twenty years time, will be on the forefront of medical evolution." Thackery spins around on his heels and clasps his hands.
Christiansen glances at Bertie. "And you're going to start with Chickering," he deadpans. "What about Gallinger?"
"What about him?" Thackery sighs, and slides his hands across his chest, as if looking for something, patting himself down once, twice, until he realises that he isn't wearing a jacket at all and whatever he is looking for simply isn't there. "Plus anyway, come what may, it's going to really piss this young man's father off when he realises just who his sainted offspring is learning from."
Bertie, wisely, doesn't say anything in regards to that little sentiment.
(It's one he'll grow used to, regardless.)
"I'll take him to the ward and give our dear novice a thorough induction to Circus life," Thackery beams as he hurries passed the older doctor. Bertie notably tenses with his approach, but it isn't until they are out of the theater and into the hallway that Thackery actually puts a hand on him ― a solid, clasp against the shoulder that was undoubtedly friendly, but which very nearly sends the much smaller doctor colliding into the wall with the force of his strike.
"I'm telling you, Dr. Chickering ― I'm going to pass on all my nasty habits, just you see."
Well isn't that the truth.