A/N: Now, for a tribute to a truly underrated Trauma Center character: Richard Anderson! Yay tribute!

Hero

Chapter 1: Forge

April 7th, 1976

A gentle breeze whipped through the campus of California State University. The small stroke of mercy from Mother Nature was greatly appreciated by the students and faculty members alike. The summer was approaching, which meant the already sunny state was going to get a lot more of it. This was also the sign of the impending final exams for the semester. A sense of gloom hung over the students in spite of the nice weather as cram sessions and all nighters took place of the parties they would rather have been attending.

Still, some students decided to make the most of the weather, taking their text books and notes outside to study in the university's sprawling grass. The atmosphere and fresh air proved to be a much more calming environment than the stuffy school library. A little too calming, in one student's case.

A young man snored lightly with a thick text book lying opened on his chest. The combination warm weather and hushed whisper of the windswept leaves was enough to lull anyone to sleep. He had been so resilient the evening before, fighting to stay awake as he scribbled page after page of notes for later reference. Eventually, his sleep starved mind got the best of him and his eyes refused to stay open. He rested undisturbed as a soft pair of footsteps shuffled the grass beneath them. He continued resting even as the shoes walked right up to him, one of them gently nudging his arm.

"Hey!" a voice called down to him, the foot pressing harder. Not as much as a stir came from him.

The voice scoffed in amusement. "All right, you asked for it." The owner of said voice reared his foot back and shoved his heel into the sleeping student's abdomen.

Richard Anderson woke to his own gasp. He sat up quickly, sputtering for breath, while another young man collapsed in laughter beside him. Cradling his stomach, he muttered a few choice words under his breath while glaring at the offender. Robert Hoffman quickly regained composure and suppressed his chuckling upon noticing his friend's less that civil expression.

"Hey, don't glare at me, Mr. Double Major. It's not my fault you're so determined to achieve death through academics."

"If I die, I hope I'm the most horrible case study you'll ever have to do." Richard growled, though he had to admit his friend had something of a point.

Political Sciences was tough. General Medicine was as well. Choosing to major in both of them was down right suicidal.

Robert, still attempting to stifle his laughter, sat down next to him and flipped through a text book he had been carrying. "Are you ready to go over the notes for advanced anatomy, or are you going to fall asleep again?" Grumbling lightly, Richard fished out his own health text book and notes. Despite the rude awakening, the short nap had recharged him somewhat and his irate mood was quickly soothed.

The next hour proved to be a rather productive one, as both students combed over the various organs and systems of the human body. Choosing to devote his entire study to medicine, Robert was the more knowledgeable of the two and most of their study session was spent on him quizzing Richard. The time left both young men confident in their understanding of inner physiology and the idea of a reward nap nibbled in the back of the double major's brain.

Richard yawned into his hand and thought about returning to his dorm room to grab some sleep before dinner. The calm of the court yard would do nothing for him without it, especially when the whisper of pencil on paper beside him proved to be just as slumber inducing. He gathered his books as he drowsily looked over to the noise.

Robert had either gotten a good night's rest the previous evening, or the very words he drank in from his text book were enough to keep him alert. He was several chapters ahead of where they were to be tested, one hand gently stroking the words he read while his other diligently scribbled onto a sheet of paper. "Rob, you're way ahead of everyone else. Why do you insist on throwing the curve?" Richard muttered.

"Didn't you hear?" He stopped for a moment, just long enough to see his friend shake his head. "Dr. Allan Karston is looking to create a work study program and he's only going to take the top students. If I do well enough, I may be able to work under him."

Richard smiled. "You know, you seem to grow more and more passionate about this every year."

Robert could not help but smile as well as a small laugh escaped him. "Blame it on my insane love of people. I want to help them."

Richard returned to gathering up is supplies, shuffling through his notes one last time to make sure everything was in order. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep. See you tonight."

"Yeah." Robert returned to his study and Richard headed towards their dorm room, unable to resist the call of his pillow any longer.

-----

A loud bang startled Richard into a half-awake daze. Drowsiness still pressing heavily against him, he searched his surroundings just enough to discover that Robert had returned to their dorm. Standing with his back to him at his desk across the room, his right arm was extended, pressing his knuckles to the wall which was enough for Richard's groggy mind to determine that as the cause of the sound.

Satisfied, he turned his face back to his pillow, not thinking of why his friend had punched the wall until he heard a strained sniffle.

The gentle noise shattered the tired grip on his mind, his eyes widening in concern as he pushed himself up. "Robert?" His murmur went ignore as Robert's body shook. "Robert?" he said louder as he got up from his bed. Shoulders hunched slightly, Robert timidly peeked over them before sighing heavily and turning his face back to the wall. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." he mumbled, another sniffle following it.

"Man, what's wrong?"

Richard quickly walked to his friend's side, watching Robert's knuckles scrape against the wall as his arm fell to his side. He limply collapsed to his chair, his chin pressed to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Richard was startled to see a tear run down his contorted face.

"Robert!" he gasped. "Why are you . . .?"

"My grandfather died."

The quiet breath sucked all sound from the room, save for that of a face clock and its ticks, which roared against the dense air.

Richard could only stare in wide eyed shock at his friend, subconsciously counting each beat the clock made. Losing grandparents was not an uncommon thing among young adults their age, but he was one of the few people that knew how close the two had been, that Robert's grandfather had been more of a father than his real one.

The back of his mind had counted twenty one ticks as his tongue flinched in vain, trying to speak comforting words to the distraught man. After thirty, it had still failed to produce any sound and he gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I just got the call from my mother. He died . . . just a little more than an hour ago." His grip was nearly startled loose at Robert's statement, the noose around his throat only growing tighter.

Yet, even as the constriction on his vocal cords grew, he knew exactly what to do. Richard hooked an arm around his friend's shoulders as they began to tremble fiercely. A strained sob hiccupped from Robert's chest as he bit his lip, unable to hold the welling tears back any longer.

-----

"Thank you so much for coming, Richard."

"It was nothing, Mrs. Hoffman."

That had to have been one of the biggest lies he had ever told in his life.

Simply walking up to the front door had been a struggle. Each step had sent a chill up his spine, the shadows seemingly reaching out to drench him. The entire block reeked of grief, penetrating his senses and violating his mind. Cruelly, it tugged on his darkest memories, pulling forth whispered images of . . .

No, he would not allow himself to succumb to his past, not when his best friend needed him. Richard closed his eyes and forced the memory down.

With the unpleasant figments back under lockdown, he opened his eyes and scanned the house uneasily. Wearing black was common practice in the wake of one's death. He was wearing an ebony suit himself, though the somber color donned by the mourners washed a shallow grey over the walls. The bleak atmosphere made his search all the more unbearable.

"Where's Robert?"

"He's outside, in the backyard."

"Thanks . . ."

He made his way through the crowd, the twilight sky a powerful red against the dark room. Flinching, Richard pushed the back door open, the pain induced tears distorting a lone figure. He blinked them away and approached his friend. Robert sat hunched forward, arms draped over his thighs as he stared aimlessly into the sky, the sun casting an orange sparkle in his tears. "How are you doing?" Richard said as he took a seat next to his friend.

Robert did not spare him a glance. Richard sat patiently in the silence, turning his gaze towards the bleeding horizon when he heard a deep but soft sigh.

"Can you imagine what it must feel like, Richard?"

"What?" Richard turned towards him. "What do you mean?"

"Lying in a hospital bed, feeling your own body shut down, hearing the doctors tell you . . . there's nothing more they can do."

"Robert . . ."

Robert clenched his jaw as he bowed his head, his dark bangs brushing into his eyes. "He'd been fighting leukemia for so long . . . I guess it's not really a surprise, but . . ." he choked. ". . . no one should have to go through that. No one should have to hear their condition is incurable . . ."

"No one should have to hear their condition is incurable . . ."

He was unsure of what had prompted it, but those words echoed in Richard's mind long after he had left the wake of the late senior Hoffman. Robert thanked his friend for coming to support him and had decided to stay with his family for a few days. This left the student to return to a dormitory devoid of any noise, save for the constant ticking of the clock. Of course, there was also the occasional whisper of Robert's statement reverberating through his mind. Richard sighed and dragged himself to his bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes before collapsing onto it and slipping into a fitful slumber.

The next morning found him hunched over a pile of text books in the library. His eraser had suffered several bite marks as he poured over the chapters covering his Foreign Relations exam. Sighing, Richard placed his pencil to his notebook, pushing the mental noise to the background as he focused on his reading. He was vaguely away of his hand's fluid motions while he re-absorbed the information. It was not the material the perturbed him as much as it was the murmurs in his head, some repetitious while others berating him for leaving his friend in favor of school work.

Robert had assured him he was fine before he left the previous evening, but it would not hurt to call after lunch. At the very least, it would hush the obnoxious voices.

Most of them, anyway . . .

"That's a rather somber drawing."

Richard looked up to see his classmate, Sarah, staring at his notebook paper. He looked at the paper himself, his eyes growing large when he saw what had been scribbled. "Dammit!" he hissed, quickly crumpling it up and hiding it from view. Sarah gave him a curious look. "What was that? Was that a car-"

"Nothing!" he snapped as he further clenched the paper under the table. "It was nothing . . ."

The girl's brow furrowed in annoyance. "You're clearly not in a good mood today."

"I'm sorry . . ." he sighed. "I didn't get very much sleep last night . . . among other things . . ."

"Yeah, I heard about what happened to Robert." The tightness on her forehead gave way to concern. "How's he taking it?"

"Not bad, all things considered."

"I hope he recovers soon."

"I'm sure he will . . ."

"Well," she stepped away from the table, taking a moment to brush her hair back. "I'll see you at our study group tonight, right?"

"Yeah . . ."

As Sarah left, Richard turned his attention back to the crunched paper in his hands. He carefully unwrinkled it and gritted his teeth as the jagged picture was slowly revealed. Unable to suppress a shudder, he quickly tore it in two, crumpling up the halves and stuffing them in his book bag to be disposed of later.

-----

Robert returned to school two days later and, though his mood had been severely dampened, his study habits were, if anything, enhanced as though his text books were numbing him from the pain. Studying had become one of the few things Robert did for the weeks that followed. Though he was glad that his friend's hard work over the year would have not been undone by the sudden death of his grandfather, Richard was quick to notice that his study binge left him neglecting other necessities, such as food. It had gotten to the point in which he would have to nearly force his friend to eat, taking away his books and refusing to give them back until he finished his meal.

As if he did not have enough to worry about without making sure he did not starve himself to death.

The exams that hung over his head had become secondary to the restless thoughts that churned within him. It puzzled him how a simple phrase could cause such a potent ripple. Still, even as he watched Robert reluctantly nibble on a slice of pizza he had ordered for them, the words that had been shadowing him for the past weeks continued to weave through his mind.

"No one should have to hear their condition is incurable . . ."

"Did you mean that?"

Richard jerked a bit at that, having not realized he was speaking until he heard his own voice. Robert swallowed the meager amount of food in his mouth. "Mean what?"

"When you said that no one should have to hear their condition can't be cured . . . . did you mean it?"

He looked over at Richard, teeth pulled into a feeble grit as his brows rose. "Of . . . course I meant it. Why . . . why are you asking me this?"

"I feel the same way, Robert, and I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks. This is probably going to sound crazy . . . " He paused to take a breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I want to pioneer the front line of medicine."

Robert slowly lowered the pizza slice onto his paper plate. "You're going to what now?"

"I . . . I want to change the face of medical research . . ."

"There's research facilities everywhere. What could you do that no one else could?"

"Cure the incurable."

Richard had surprised himself with the swiftness and certainty of his answer. Sure, he had been thinking about it ever since the funeral, but with all the restrictions on the medical facilities . . . could it be done?

Robert silently turned his eyes towards him and pushed himself from his chair. "You know something, Rick?" he murmured. "You're as much as a sap as you are crazy." Slowly, a smirk drew itself on his face. "I guess that's why I like you." Richard could not help but smile as well. This was the first time Robert had worn anything but a frown since his grandfather's death. "So, if you really want to go through with this, I've got your back.

Richard blinked. "Y-you're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." Robert cocked a brow. "Aren't you?"

"Of course I am, but . . . why the sudden turn about face?"

"I guess I realized that we do feel the same way about this, as crazy as it is." Robert ran his hand through his hair. "I mean, I don't know what I could really do to help. I'm studying to be a surgeon after all . . . but you've got my support, one hundred percent."

Richard smiled. "Then, let's make it official."

He held out his hand, which Robert took, leading it into a firm hand shake. That simple action marked a forgery that, unknown to them at the time, would change the world forever.

-----

A/N: How come there's no fanfics (save this one) about Richard Anderson? He. Kicked. Ass! Where's the love?

(crickets chirp)

Okay . . . evidently I'm alone in that regard. Hehehe . . . (scratches her head). Well, I found him to be an interesting character. Not as cool as Derek, Victor, or Angie but meh, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Yes, I'm polishing up the last bit of Paying the Price. I just got bit by the inspirational bug, if you will.

Please let me know what you think of it thus far!