Title: Doppelganger
Disclaimer: Don't have financial interest in any of the shows mentioned.
Eva Rossi's eyes darted mischievously from her laptop screen to the obviously daydreaming Dr. Natalie Durant, ruminating for her 19th minute on the final paragraph of a routine National Institutes of Health press release. Naturally, it was good piece of fluff, Eva admitted to herself, but not that enthralling.
"So, Natalie, are you going to go for it?" Eva concealed her smile with a sip of her latte.
"I'm very tempted," Natalie sighed. "Miami is so beautiful, especially the beaches, although I don't think that Stephen exactly worships the sun."
"Thanks for your input on my press release and the mental image of the pale boss man in a Speedo," Eva said, tugging the paper from her hand. "I'll fire this off to the newspapers."
"Ohhh, I'm sorry," blushed Natalie. "Your story is concise and to the point. I'm the one who's rambling. I can't make up my mind if I'll take Stephen up on the offer to attend the health conference with him in Florida. I need to decide by this afternoon so Kate's assistant can make the reservations."
"That's a no-brainer, Natalie," Eva said. "Who wouldn't jump at a free vacation to a tropical paradise? Pristine beaches, romantic restaurants, sultry night breezes."
"With Stephen?" Natalie bit her lip. "It wouldn't be very professional if ..."
Eva bopped her colleague on the head with the press release. "Wake up and smell the mojitos, Natalie. Slather the man with some SPF 50 and hit the beaches because he's not going to be on the market forever. If you're interested, then what's stopping you? If things go badly, you could always take in a lecture on MRSA, smallpox, leprosy...something hideously disgusting but easier to comprehend than our fearsome leader."
'Hey, Natalie," Frank called, lightly rapping on Eva's open door with a rolled newspaper. "Connor's looking for you. He needs an answer soon about the Florida conference."
Eva shot Frank a conspiratorial grin. Natalie rolled her eyes.
"What?" Frank asked. "Just work up your courage and pack your bikini for Miami, girlfriend."
"I still have a little more time to make my decision," Natalie said.
"No, you don't," Frank reminded her. "Remember that it's Friday and Kate tries to fly out of here by 4 pm. And besides, Miles has dibs if you decline." And with a shake of his head, Frank headed down the hall.
'Uh, oh," Eva said, looking at an instant message. "Code H, coming up the elevator."
"Code H?" Natalie glanced over Eva's shoulder at the computer screen.
"Yep, Code H stands for totally 'hot' guy heading this direction," Eva explained. "He's in a dark coat and hat."
"Who's sending you those messages?" Natalie asked.
"A clandestine network of socially unacceptable and..."
"Are you clear on the alert?" asked Dottie Garland, a near retirement-age member of environmental services, as she stopped at Eva's door for confirmation. And with that, the diminutive woman in a blue and white gingham smock top shoved her supply cart toward the elevator.
The elevator bell dinged. Four seconds later, a tall, blonde, familiar-looking man in a dark duster and hat passed Eva's office in long, purposeful strides.
"Code H? I think that you can stand down, ladies. It's just Stephen," Natalie chuckled as Eva typed in a message.
"NOT DR. CONNOR," came the rapid reply from Eva's source. "TRUST ME."
"Who could he be then?" a curious Eva asked as she and Natalie peeked down the hall. The man was concentrating on a phone call.
"Tall, impossibly blonde with a commanding voice and a cell phone grafted to his ear," Natalie observed. "It has to be Stephen, although I've never seen that outfit before."
"...No, Peter, don't re-schedule the depositions for the Escovito murder case. I'll be back in LA in time. What? When does The CBS Early Show want to do an interview? Tuesday morning? Only if Harry Smith does it. Alright, call me with the details..."
Dottie passed Eva's door, beckoning them to follow her as she pushed a small vacuum on the golden carpet.
"Who is he?" Natalie whispered.
"I don't know but I am totally digging the Tin Man look with the Snowy River hat and duster," Dottie shot out of the side of her mouth. "I'd follow that man down the Yellow Brick Road just to watch him swagger."
"Tin Man?" Natalie asked.
"A sci-fi mini-series," Eva nodded. "It was a new twist on the 'Wizard of Oz.' You got a point, Dottie. All that cowboy needs is his trusty six-shooter and he'd be a deadringer for the Tin Man."
"You're not kidding," Dottie agreed. "I'd show the Zipperhead some moves trying to beat him to the wagon if Cain ever got hypothermia again."
Baffled by their banter, Natalie shot a bewildered look back at Eva, not realizing that Not Dr. Connor had stopped to dial another number on his cell phone.
"Oomph," she yelped, plowing into his broad back before she went sprawling on the carpet in a most unladylike jumble at the feet of Not Dr. Connor.
"I am so sorry," she stammered, tugging down on her skirt hem.
"She glitched," Dottie whispered.
A large hand reached down to help Natalie up. "Thanks."
"Pardon me," he said in a rich, deep voice. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't paying attention."
Amazed, Natalie looked up into a pair of sparkling eyes, a shade of crystal blue possessed by only one man in the universe, or at least she thought until the moment that she hit the floor. Whoever this man was, he shared DNA with Stephen. With the hat, it was difficult to tell, but he was maybe less than an inch shorter and a few years younger.
"My word, this ain't Kansas, Toto," Dottie whispered to Eva. "Is Blondie a clone or a shape-shifter?"
"Aren't you Dr. Natalie Durant?" asked the man, doffing the hat. His blonde hair, slightly darker than Stephen's, was cut stylishly short.
"Yes, how did you know my name?" she asked.
With a disarming grin, Not Dr. Connor gestured at his left upper chest as if he wore a name tag like hers. "Stephen told me that he worked with a brilliant physician named Natalie Durant, but he neglected to mention how lovely you are."
"Thank you," Natalie blushed. "And you are...?"
"One of the most dangerous sharks on dry land," Stephen smirked as he rounded the corner with Frank and Miles. "Ladies, this is my cousin, David McNorris, from Los Angeles."
"Blocking my plays as usual, Stephen," David quipped as the cousins hugged with loud pounds on each other's back. "Please, introduce me to your colleagues."
"Well, you've already accosted Dr. Durant," Stephen said. "And you know Frank."
"Hey, Hollywood." Frank shooked David's hand. "Let me know if you've got time to do a couple rounds in the ring."
"Just the souvenir I need, another black eye," David said, cocking an eyebrow.
"And David Francis," Stephen continued, "This is Dr. Miles McCabe, Dottie Garland and our media liaison, Eva Rossi."
"Pardon me, Miss Rossi, but I try to steer clear of journalists," David said, feigning a frown. Stephen coughed. Obviously his cousin had heard through the family grapevine about his relationship with a reporter that ended his eight-year marriage.
"A wise choice, Mr. McNorris, because we do bite," Eva responded with an impish smile that was rewarded with toothy grin.
Dottie poked Natalie in the back and whispered, "Did you see his eyes? They twinkled. If Dr. Connor could learn how to do that, we'd have a serious threat to global warming."
"So, Mr. McNorris," Natalie said.
"David."
"So, David, what brings you to Bethesda?" Natalie asked.
"Business, I'm afraid," David sighed.
"David is an assistant district attorney," Stephen explained.
"And in that capacity, I've been asked, along with three officers, to speak at a Capitol Hill hearing on the topic of organized crime and gangs infiltrating police agencies," David said. "We had a case where a gang planted a mole in the department. The gang kidnapped a rookie officer and made good on their threat to execute him if I couldn't manuveur an 11th-hour stay of execution for their ex-kingpin on Death Row."
The women gasped.
"I read about that," said Miles enthusiastically. "I'm originally from San Francisco. Were you the ADA who hung up on the governor?"
"Another poor choice that tarnished my reputation as Boomtown's 'fair-haired' boy," David half-smiled at his stoic cousin. I don't understand how Stephen does it, living daily with the responsibility of deciding who lives or dies. He's a much stronger man than I am. His demons drive him to being a better man. Mine just want to party at my expense, come early and stay late.
"Before he died, didn't the young officer... Ouch!" Miles was on the receiving end of Frank's swat from the rolled-up newspaper.
"Miles, I don't think David stopped by to talk shop," interrupted Frank, who received an appreciative look from the attorney.
"That's right," Stephen quickly added. "He's here for the male bonding. I've got some awesome Porterhouse steaks and Guinnesses back at the house. After dinner, we can watch the Pats' game that I DVRed while the NIH team was in Indianapolis. I'll lobotomize the person who tells me the final score beforehand."
'Connor, if we weren't first cousins, I'd marry you," McNorris laughed. Obviously Stephen hadn't heard that Betty Ford was the lady that he was trying hard to stay faithful to these days.
''Frank's coming over," Stephen said. "How about you, Miles?"
"I'm in."
"Are we still on for tomorrow, too?" David asked.
"Barring any team call-outs," Stephen promised.
"My brother, John, who lives in Arlington, is flying us to Dorchester, Massachusetts, for the weekend for an early celebration of our grandmother's 99th birthday," David explained to Natalie. "She can't wait to see her favorite grandson."
"And after she does, I'm sure that she'll be tickled about seeing you, too," Stephen grinned.
"Would you like to come with us, Natalie? Eva?" David invited. "We have a couple extra seats on the plane."
"I thought that your officer friends were going to tag along?" Stephen asked.
"One of the detectives, Joel Stevens, is coming," David explained. "You'll like Joel. His partner, 'Fearless' Smith, wants to do some sightseeing instead. And Ray Hechler, bless his heart, said that he wouldn't fly unless he could shove my slimy carcass out the door of John's plane without a parachute."
"He's obviously known you a long time," Stephen whistled.
As the laughter died down, Dottie popped up with a question: "Who does your brother look like?"
"A little like the 'Seattle Slayer,'" David grinned.
A puzzled Stephen took offense at his cousin's description. "John's really a good, decent family man. My Jack is named after him."
"Relax, Stephen," David said. "I noticed that Dottie here, who's quite a corker, uses a lot of pop cultural references. I was comparing John's looks to the man who plays the villain in new Pacino movie."
"So he looks like the Forster character?" Dottie asked
"Only without the orange jumpsuit and maniacal grin," David shook his head.
"He doesn't torture women?" Dottie asked.
"Absolutely not," David winked. "Frank tells me that Stephen is the one with that reputation."
'I'll make certain that you get that seat next to the door tomorrow," Stephen promised.
"So, Miss Eva, Dr. Durant, are we on for tomorrow?" David asked. "Grandma Bridget would dance a jig if Stephen and I showed up with two lovely ladies. Wouldn't you like to make a saintly, long-suffering woman happy before she shuffles off this mortal coil?"
Eva was ready to jump at the invitation. Natalie bit her lip. Dottie and Frank rolled their eyes at her indecision.
"Nat," said Miles. "If you don't want to go, I'd sure like a ride up to the Boston area to see an old med school roommate. Ouch!"
As Frank whacked Miles again with the newspaper, Dottie rammed her sweeper into the toe of his shoe.
"What was that for?" Miles cried. "Is there something I'm missing?"
"Let me take a shot at summing this up," David laughed. "Humor me, Dottie, or is your real name Dorothy?"
"That it is," the older woman grinned.
"No offense, Dr. McCabe, but it appears that Dorothy thinks she is standing here not only with the Tin Man, but also with one companion lacking the courage to make a decision and another not using his brain. How am I doing?"
"All we need now to end this story is a wicked witch," added Dottie, gesturing to Kate's office.
Stephen shuddered, "I don't want to see where she keeps her mobats."