AN: This is my first scrubs story so I'd love to hear some feedback on it, please tell me if anyone is wildly out of character. I'm also considering extending this from a one shot so please tell me if you'd be interested.
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The grandfather clock in the hallway ticks closer to midnight, closer to the end of the nineteenth century and all I can think of is him. How right now we should be together. I shouldn't be here, smiling at the rich friends of my parents, giggling about my upcoming marriage and what it will be like on "the night". Just a few months ago this was my world, this was where I belonged. Now I feel like an outsider, an imposter.
Because of him.
I shouldn't be here. I should be on the other side of town, with him, with his friends. They could be my friends, if I let them. But I never did, always thought of myself as better than them. Because I am rich and they are not.
But really, how does wealth matter?
"Miss Reid I do not believe this is a good idea."
"I did not ask your opinion Carla,"
I sit outside and let the cold air wash over me. It's refreshing to be out here, away from the pointless chatter of inside. I can just sit, sit and think. Think of the first time we met. How it was an accident. How if I had listened to my mother I would not have met him at all.
"Miss Reid, I could lose my job for this."
"That does not bother me."
How different I was then. A sheltered girl who only cared about material goods. I assessed people on their wealth, not their personalities. I let people dictate my life. I had my husband chosen for me due to his social standing; no thought was given to whether we were compatible.
"Well isn't it my favourite spoilt little princess. Why do you grace us with your presence? Because I re-heally do not have time for this."
"Delightful as always. I've come to speak about a patient of yours."
It was ridiculous, the airs I put on. The pretence I put up. I acted as if I was not worried about my mother finding out I was visiting that, side of town. I acted as if I did not care for Carla when she was closest thing to a friend I had. I acted as if Percival Cox did not intimidate me in the slightest, in all honesty every moment I spent in his presence I was terrified.
"Miss Clock is in the third room on the right."
That was the only reason I was there in the first place. Molly, a childhood friend of mine, had been kicked out of her family home the week before. She had refused to marry the husband chosen for her.
"I was dreadfully worried about you."
"Don't be. You are such a worrier Elliot, I will be fine."
She was always an optimist. Although I think she knew death was nearing, she still kept up a happy appearance. She kept up the spirits of the other poor souls in Cox's charity hospital.
"You could see my family Doctor. I will pay for the trouble."
"I am fine here. Dr. Cox has good people working for him."
I didn't believe her. Not then. Not once she'd died. Pneumonia. Not even though I knew there was nothing her Doctor could have done. I demanded to speak to her Doctor, even though everyone was telling me it was not his fault. I wanted someone to blame.
"Miss Reid I presume?"
I'd been expecting someone like Cox. Grumpy, miserable and cynical. Someone who was using their wealth to help the poor. I didn't see any sense in that, not back then. I had not been expecting him. A young man, around my age, looking tired as if life was wearing him down. He could not have been from a wealthy family but he spoke impeccably.
"That is I."
"I am sorry for your loss Miss Reid but I assure you there was nothing that could be done."
I believed him.
"I understand. I just want to thank you for all you've done Doctor―"
"Dorian. John Dorian."
"Doctor Dorian."
At the time I had noticed Carla watching us with interest. I had not asked her about it afterwards. Discussing such matters with servants is simply not proper. I would, possibly, discuss such things with her now but only as she has left service with my family.
"Isn't Dr. Dorian a delight?"
"He is Miss Reid."
"Please Carla stop looking at me like that."
"Like what miss?"
"Like you know something I don't."
"As you wish Miss Reid."
That was the first time we met. I never expected to see him again. I don't normally venture into the area of town Dr. Cox's charity is located in. The beggars and the poor are a minor inconvenience, it is the stench and the overwhelming feeling you are about to get mugged that I detest.
I push myself off the bench, making my way over to the balcony which looks out over the Gardens of my family's estate. Just looking at the gardens reminded me of our second meeting.
It had been a warm Autumn day, a slight breeze pasting over the grounds making the weather perfectly acceptable. My mother had forced me out of the house, telling me I was looking too pale and "no man will find that attractive". I'd been wandering slowly through the gardens when I had found Carla talking to a man I recognised.
"Carla, I did not realise you knew Doctor Dorian."
"Oh, yes Miss. I have known him a few years."
"Carla's fiancé is a friend of mine."
"I did not know you were engaged Carla."
I should have guessed, she had handed in her resignation a few days before. After eight years of service to my family she was leaving unexpectedly. It didn't even cross my mind to ask why.
"Yes Miss. We're to marry next week."
"We'd need a lot of lettuce."
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh. Nothing Miss Reid."
He fascinated me. With his perfected speech yet obvious low income and his strange, unprovoked comment. He fascinated me so much I wished to speak to him again.
"I hope it is not rude for me to ask if it would be possible for me to attend the service?"
I can still clearly remember the look they exchanged, as if they could not really believe I was asking to attend a servant's marriage. Looking back on the event it does seem awfully out of character compared to the woman Carla had spent eight years with. At the time, it made perfect sense.
Our third encounter came at the wedding. I had convinced Melody, a friend of mine into coming with me after my parents refused to see a point in attending.
"Do you happen to know the Best Man?"
"Not personally but his name is John Dorian, he's a Doctor at Percival Cox's charity."
"Pity."
I played along at the time, pretending that I saw him as below of me due to his place of work. With most I would have but not with him. He was different.
"I did not think you would make it."
"I am a woman of my word Doctor Dorian."
"JD."
He had smiled at the look of confusion on her face.
"It's an old nickname, my brother thought it up."
"Interesting."
He had made excuses then, left me and Melody alone.
"You can not possibly think your parents would allow you to marry him."
"Of course not. Why would I even be thinking of that?"
She had given me a look then, one I recognised as the exact look Carla had given me a few weeks before. As if she knew something I did not.
I smile at the memory. Back then I still felt like a child even though I was well into my mid-twenties. I turn my back to the gardens, walk over to the other side of the balcony. I look over the quieting city, behind me New Year's celebrations are taking place all over the poorer areas but where I am looking, the city is silent.
Although it is dark, so I can not see much other than the tops of buildings and the stars in the sky I can still point out the place where we had our fourth meeting. Unlike the other meetings he found me but I did not want to be found.
"Miss Reid?"
I had ignored him. Ashamed that anyone had found me like this, sitting in a dirty doorway, tears in my eyes.
"Miss Reid are you alright?"
I had covered my face with my hands, hoping he would go away so I could be alone in my pathetic misery. He was about to leave, I could feel him begin to walk away when I suddenly told him.
"I am to marry."
"You do not want to marry?"
"Not to him."
I still don't.
"You do not have to."
I laughed a little at the ridiculous statement. He sounded so sure, as if it was that easy. He had obviously had very few dealings with families like mine.
"I do. My mother is already planning the ceremony."
My mother had been planning the ceremony since before my birth. The planning she had been doing at this point was just the finishing touches. I barely noticed him sitting down next to me, only realising properly when he spoke again,
"When is this ceremony?"
"January twenty-seventh."
I looked up at him as he disappeared into his thoughts. I hurriedly wiped the tears out of my eyes, hoping that he would not think too badly of me. My mother had always told me that only weak women cry.
"The pigeons may be a bit much."
I laughed a genuine laugh, wondering what had been going on in his mind to bring about such a comment. Then he suggested something I had not even considered before,
"You could always run away."
"Runaway? But where would I live?"
"With me?"
I had stared at him, scandalised by such a thought. Seeing my expression he had reconsidered.
"Or not. But I am sure I could find somewhere, it would not be anything like your home but it would be warm."
He glanced at me, looking away from the spot on the world he had been staring at whilst formulating a plan.
"You would be able to make your own decisions."
I seriously considered the thought for a second. Then I began to properly think about his proposal, the idea of leaving my family, my friends, the life I had grown accustomed to. I knew I would not be able to do it, I could not give him false hope.
"I would not be able to leave."
I stood up, he followed, a strange look in his eyes that seemed to be begging me not to go. I looked at him then took the impulsive decision to reach up and kiss his cheek. I regretted the decision as soon as I had made it. I still regret it now, anyone could have seen. Then I walked away, as fast as I could, my corset stopping me from being able to walk particularly fast. I lifted my skirt up slightly so it would not trail on the muddy ground.
"If you change your mind I'll be waiting."
His sudden exclamation made me stop.
"Until when?"
"Midnight. The turn of the century. Dr. Cox's hospital."
I nodded, and then walked away trying to resist the urge to turn back and see his face for one last time. I did not manage it. That was the second decision of that day which I regret. The look on his face will haunt me forever.
"Your father requests your presence."
I turn to see my future husband, standing behind me, a look of concern gracing his features. I should feel happy with this marriage, Keith will be a good father, a good husband. Yet, I am not. I can not help to feel regret for not taking his offer. I will now never know if it would've made me happier.
I follow Keith into the ballroom where my father is making a toast. He toasts to Keith and I, to the twentieth century, to President McKinley, to making good choices.
The sinking feeling in my stomach let's me know that I have made the wrong choice.
I should be somewhere else right now.
The grandfather clock chimes, beginning the countdown to the New Year, the new century.
It's too late.
