(Hi, this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. Even though I like Kirby more, I don't have any ideas for a Kirby story right now, so I thought I'd start with a Trauma Center story. Go easy on me please, flames are accepted, but no flames with swearwords.)

(Disclaimer: I don't own Trauma Center or any of the characters except for that random family I made up and the boy.

(Credit to In The Beginning for letting me use Alexander as Derek's dad's name.)

(And without further ado,)

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Just Like Me

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"Dammit, don't you die on me!" Derek Stiles frantically sutured one of many lacerations made by the GUILT, his heart pounding in time with his head as the Healing Touch expired.

"Vitals are critical!" Angie Thompson, Dr. Stiles' assistant yelled. "Vitals at 9…8…7…"

"Come on, just one more to suture!" Derek gritted his teeth, the needle and thread winding its way around a large laceration caused by the Kyriaki. There was nothing left to do except hope for a miracle.

"4…3…"

"Done!" Derek threw down the needle and thread onto the tray and grabbed the stabilizer, injecting the green liquid into the patient's side, and watched with satisfaction as vitals shot up by 12 with every dose. "Operation comp-"

"Doctor!" Angie shrieked. 6 cuts appeared simultaneously, forming a star instead of an asterisk.

Unfortunately, the vitals were only in the low 30's. They plummeted right down to…

"Zero." Angie's voice shook. Sidney's voice blared out from the PA.

"There's nothing we can do…close him up."

Derek was silent as he sutured the initial incision. His soft brown eyes seemed dull, even clouded. Why couldn't I save him? What went wrong...? How did I miss those Kyriaki?

Angie tentatively put her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, before turning to put the surgical tools away. "It wasn't your fault, Dr. Stiles. You did what you could." Her voice was soft, comforting, but Derek didn't even hear a word as he pulled a white sheet over the patient's body and recited the time of death.

Why me…? Maybe I'm not cut out to be a surgeon...

"Doctor? How's my husband?" A woman with two children stood up and rushed over to Derek. The children were wide-eyed, staring at the surgeon. One, a girl appeared to be about twelve, the other, a boy, merely nine.

"I…I'm sorry. I...it…I mean…I couldn't save him…" Derek's voice was hollow.

The children began to cry, and tears slid down the woman's cheeks.

They're too young to deal with this. Derek thought, heading back to his office. Just like me…

"Mom? Why are you crying? Dad... he's going to get better, right?"

"...no, Derek... he's not... he won't get better... not this time..."

"...why?! Why isn't... why isn't he going to be okay?!"

"You have to save him! He's my dad! You... you have to!"

"..I'm sorry, son. ...no doctor in the world could save your father from this..."

A gentle knock on the door jolted Derek out of his reverie. "Come in." He called, pretending to be trying to organize his cluttered desk.

The door creaked open. It was the boy, the one who had lost his father. He sniffled. "Hi…"

Derek got up. "Hey, I'm…sorry I couldn't save…" His voice trailed off. It was too painful to think about.

"It's okay…" Tears started to stream down the boy's face again. "I wanted to…say thanks."

Derek stared. "…Thanks? For…for what? I couldn't save your…dad." He swallowed.

The boy managed to give a watery smile. "Daddy would have been glad that you tried to save him. He would say…you're a good doctor." The small child trembled, and then began to cry openly.

Derek moved forward, kneeling down in front of the boy. The child buried his head in Derek's shoulder, sobbing. "Hey, shh, it's okay." The surgeon awkwardly patted the boy, trying to comfort him. Inwardly, he cursed himself for sucking at comforting people. Especially kids.

"I miss Daddy." The boy sobbed, trying to stop the stream of tears. "I…just wish I got to tell him goodbye."

Derek froze. That was exactly how he felt at the funeral.

His father's funeral.

He could still hear the preacher's words, as the body of Alexander Stiles was lowered in a coffin into a hole. He remembered trying to hold back tears, couldn't understand why his father was dead, couldn't understand why the doctors couldn't save him…

"You know…" Derek spoke softly. "I lost my dad too, when I was your age."

The boy looked up, eyes wide.

"I felt the same way too, I wished I could tell him goodbye…and how sorry I was, for not being there when he died."

"But it wasn't your fault!" The boy burst out. "It wasn't your fault that he died."

"It felt like my fault," Derek tried to explain. "And guess what?"

"What?" The boy edged closer to listen.

"If you really want to say goodbye to your dad…"

"I do!"

"Just tell him. He'll hear you." Derek smiled.

The boy's eyes were bright. "But…how do you know?" He inquired, wiping a stray tear off his cheek.

"Because my dad heard me. All you have to do is tell him. Just take a moment, and tell your dad you miss him."

The boy sniffled once, and closed his eyes.

An eternity seemed to pass.

After several long minutes, Derek felt the boy relax. He smiled at the child, remembering his own goodbye, however painful it was.

The boy opened his eyes, and grinned. "I feel better now." He told the doctor. "I know Daddy heard me. He hugged me!"

"See, you feel better." Derek stood up. The child stood up as well. "You'll still miss him, but it won't feel as painful, now that you've said bye."

"Thank you, Dr. Stiles." The boy grabbed the doorknob, ready to leave.

"Wait, what's your name?" Derek called.

"Alexander, but everyone call me Alex!" The boy chirped happily.

Derek let out a long sigh. No. Way.

"Bye, Alex!" He said, returning to his desk, somehow much happier than before. Everything was just fine.

I shouldn't give up being a surgeon. Not after what I promised him.

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(Whew, I don't think it's too bad for my first 'fic. I'm pretty proud of it.

As I said before, flames are accepted except for those with swearwords. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please review.)

(See ya next time!)