My first Black Box fan fiction (hopefully with many more to come).
Disclaimer: Not mine.
-BB –
First, you say, you do
And then you don't
And then you say, you will
And then you won'tYou're undecided now
So what are you gonna do?Now you want to play
And then it's no
And when you say, you'll stay
That's when you go
- BB -
He woke to the feeling of the suns golden rays creeping though the not-so shut blinds. Turning over he took in the woman next to him, her chest rising lightly as she remained in her deep slumber. With her cocoa eyes, somehow darker than his own, and an obviously pale complexion the brunette didn't stir. She executed her pursuit of him with an abundance of zeal, making it clear that she wanted to be his go-to person beneath the sheets. He tried it; hell he tried it on his second day working at the Cube. It didn't work. Not when you had Catherine Black, the Marco Polo of the brain, her physical appearance alone had men lusting after her – and he was not different, however knowing who she is, her intellect, her thought process; it fueled his desire. It was no secret that he was a womanizer, each of the women he bed knew the score - no strings, no obligations. However when it came to her, as much as he tried to refute it - he couldn't. With her he felt the biggest string of them all, jealousy. The green-eyed monster has featured in his thoughts with alarming frequency lately. The fact that the cook is the one who wraps his arms around her each night kills him inside. It starts a fire deep in his chest, making him feel ready to explode. That this guy gets to see her in most of her off time, get to know her favourite fruit and her breakfast favourites, her comfort movie and how she likes get showers. Another man gets to do that with her, and he never wanted strings with her - he told her this profusely. However, the thought that someone else can be inside her, watch her break in one of her most intimate moments; it left him feeling...unsettled.
The fact that this Will person knew that she had bipolar before he did was also an unpleasant feeling. Why wouldn't she tell him? Not only had they shared a bed, but they are colleagues, friends. As a fellow doctor she matched his intellect, but it surpassed that - her intellect was well above his own (though he would profusely deny it), she was attractive and as much as he loathed to admit it: her compassion and emotional involvement with her patients made her who she was, a better person, a better doctor. He was a fellow brain researcher; what made her think that she couldn't trust him with this nugget of information? When Farah told him about Cat taking his car from the parking garage, he didn't care about the car - it's insignificant - however the possibility that a single hair on her head could be hurt tore him up inside. Not to mention he compounded to her issues, throwing in her face that they were nothing - that she meant nothing. When in actual fact ever since their tryst in the lab he can't get her out of his head, whether it is in his sleep or at work or while operating. His emotions for her were clouding his faith in himself as a surgeon, he felt his judgment impair while she was around, and she just consumed so much of him after a short amount of time. When Dr. Mahmoud told him about Cat suffering from bipolar it was as if everything clicked. Her first high during their first rendezvous - it wasn't a high, it was a clear head. From the way she always had an abundance of energy to the way she was hot and cold. To the way she cured rabies, she did it and saved a little girl in the process. He had no doubt, the world was better off with Doctor Catherine Black as a neurologist - she is the Marco Polo of the brain. Two days ago when she came back, to see her again, he couldn't even describe how he felt. Anxious? Excited? Concerned? It felt impossible for him to articulate how she could make him feel a plethora of emotions simultaneously. He was so geared up to see her that he called down to reception three times in fifteen minutes. Rationally, he knew she would seek him out, but...But he just needed to see her. He whipped his head around as soon as he heard the delicate knock. "Yeah," he called - knowing it was she.
He set forward on his seat and propped himself onto his feet. He watched as she closed the door behind herself and he rounded the desk immediately. Her eyes looked so sad, she looked so withdrawn. Without even thinking twice he pulled her into his embrace, as if by doing so he could shield her from the worlds horrors. Her arms encircled him too and he grasped at the back of her neck, his eyes screwing tight as he whispered a "hello" into her blouse.
They broke apart a while later, their embrace lasting to long for colleagues – or hell even for their tentative friendship. His voice was thick, "Why didn't you tell me you were bipolar?"
In that moment he saw the fear in her eyes, the fear of him considering her differently, the fear of losing her job, the fear of losing everything. "Who told you?"
"Mahmoud." She nodded lightly, "She was there when the parking garage called to say you took about my car," she began to interrupt but he shook his head, "Forget it."
"Who else knows?"
She was scared.
"Owen." She shook her head again and started to pace, "But she only told him when she heard that you were coming back." In that moment Bick realized nothing he could say would make her feel better, but he had to try. "Don't panic, having a medical condition isn't a firing offence."
"Owen warned us, after Dr. Raynoud, we couldn't hide anything that would harm a patient."
"But you never harmed a patient" he interjected, his hand instinctively wanting to reach out to comfort her, he lets it slide back down to his side; in his signature hands on his hips pose.
"But I could have! And Mahmoud knows it," she sounded defeated. The last thing he wanted was for her to be defeated. "What am I going to do?" she asks.
As if there was a choice. "You are going to defend yourself!" she didn't seem convinced. "You are going to walk in there with your head high. You have nothing to be ashamed of." From his entire monologue this was the part he wanted her to hear, that she has nothing to be ashamed of. "This is where you belong." With me. She nods slightly, as if she is finally understanding that message, "And I will back you up." He adds, in case she needed the verbal conformation.
Relief washes over her face as she smiles, "Thank you," her head tilting to the side while he takes a step towards her.
"You and me," she looks towards the corner of his desk, "You'll get no more stress from that quarter. We're friends," as if that was all they are, "Great friends, right?" he posed the question.
She took a few steps passed him and he looked back towards her while she grasped his wrist. She didn't even pause at the door as she left his office.
Still, the fact that he couldn't give her the comfort he wanted to, it left him feeling...unsettled.
When Carlita ambushed him while he was scrubbing up for surgery, honestly he didn't feel like indulging her. He barely stopped himself from recoiling when she lifted his shirt – though he couldn't sop himself commenting, "Not now."
"I only take five minutes." She says proudly, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
The last time (and the time before that) that he has sex before surgery was with her, he couldn't do that with someone else right now.
She leaned against the basin, "I have the key to the pharmaceutical room," she waved the key in front of him in what she assumed was a seductive manner.
He rested his hands on the basin, "I have an over nerve decompression. Now I'm going to have to scrub in again."
She continued to wave the key, "So now that Catherine's back…I'm out? Is that it?"
He began to crowd her space, "Do you really want to do this?" He didn't,
"Yeah," she responded.
He breathed deeply, "Catherine and I are friends, we have a professional relationship." Yep.
He didn't like the laughter that came out of her, "You're in love with her."
Well he wasn't expecting that and he let out an involuntary artificial laugh of his own, "I'm not in love with anybody."
She ghosted her lips over his, "Are you lying to yourself? Or just me?" she walked out and he started blinking profusely.
He does not love Catherine.
He does not love Catherine. Just because the month she was gone he felt like half a person, that doesn't mean it's love. Right?
Shaking his head he prepared to scrub up again.
That evening, before he left the hospital he found Carlita and summoned her over, together they walked outside of the cube. "I don't love her, you know." Again, whom was he trying to convince.
She gave him a skeptical look but he just tugged her along towards his car that had been brought out.
That night, physically he was with Carlita but mentally, emotionally he was elsewhere. He knew it and he had assumed that he did too. This was not okay. The way she made him feel was not okay. He had never been so unsure of himself, never had he doubted his 'no strings, no obligations' motto.
Carlita was in the bathroom when a knock at the door interrupted him from pouring the champagne. Wiping his hands on his trousers he opened the door, revealing a tired looking Catherine.
He rested his hand on the door when she whispered, "Hi."
"Hey."
She smiled, "I don't want to disturb you."
He looked inside. Lucky Carlita was still in the bathroom.
"I've been thinking…I don't know, can we rewind the clock?"
He didn't even get a chance to respond. He didn't feel Carlita walk up behind him - he doesn't have that connection with her. He did however see the look on Cat's face, it was a look of hurt – he knew she wouldn't say anything in front of the woman who stood behind him – but beneath her bravado he saw it. It tore him to pieces knowing that he was the one who put it there.
He swallowed and rested his mouth on his palm. What could he say?
She looked down, and in that moment he felt worse then the scum at the bottom of a shoe, how could he do that to her?
She walked away and there was nothing he could do to stop her. In that moment it felt as if she was walking away permanently, out of his life for good.
Rationally, he knew that they were colleagues and that they would always be forced to see one another, but the difference between colleagues and…whatever they are is vast.
With a sigh he closed the door, his heart never felt so heavy. While he knew this would only solidify Carlita's opinion that he loved Dr. Black he had to do this. "Do you mind if we postpone tonight?" he asked. Though they both knew it wasn't a question.
The following day he, Dr. Morley and Dr. Mahmoud waiting in Owens' office for Catherine, her patient had a psychotic break. Just what she needed after last night. Her first case back and she has to offload apportion of it to Dr. Mahmoud. "Good morning," he said when he noticed her.
"What makes you think it is a psychotic break?"
Both Doctors Mahmoud and Morley explained the reasoning behind why they thought it was a psychotic break. He thought they were wrong. Catherines' hypothesis is sound, and had she made it before they found out she was bipolar – no one would question it, why start now?
"Doctor Mahmoud is taking over the case."
What?
You want her to be a doctor? You can't do that if she has kiddie wheels on. If there is a doctor on the planet who knows what she is talking about, it is Doctor Catherine Black. Hell, even the world thinks so – calling her the Marco Polo of the brain! Doing this to her is unfair and unjust, she has earned her respect, she has lost so much – they can't take that too.
"Okay. I don't understand what is going on here. I'm good at this, have you forgotten that?"
Bick glanced at Owen as he started his way towards Catherine, "I told you I am making the decisions. Farah." The pair watched as the two doctors walked out. Catherine made her way to exit the office when Bickman called out, his hand running over his brow, "Hey."
She turned around, "About last night."
She automatically interjected, "It won't happen again." That stung, that she wont feel the need to visit him again? To speak to him outside of the working arena? It hurt. Though, she is following what he asked her to do, to the letter.
"No, no, no," he said in quick succession, shaking his head and making gestures with his hand, "Just…Let me explain. Just listen." He took a few strides towards her, "It was harder than I expected not seeing you for a month, " understatement "and we both know what happens when we get together" mind blowing, toe-curling, out of this galaxy kind of sex that can last for hours, "so…I was just trying to get you out of my mind." Because that is where you live, twenty-four hours of each day that is where you reside, everything constantly on replay.
"With Carlita, that's not very gentlemanly of you Bick," she shook her head lightly, tousling around her hair – a colour that has taken on a more amber shade.
With a smirk, "I never was much of a gentleman, and I never wanted to be." That's true. But she changed him, "Until I met you."
They both paused.
Neither of them expected him to say that.
At this point he was as close as he could be to her without touching her lithe form. Reaching out he brushed a few looks off her face, caressing her cheeks until her gaze met his. He gripped either side of her face and melded their mouths together – making them one.
He realized that she wasn't engaging him. She tore herself from him "I can't do this." What can't she do? Be with him? Kiss him? It left a lot of unanswered questions. Before he could question her on this her phone rang.
Catherine had avoided him for the better part of the day, though he was glad that he was able to defend her in front of Dr. Morley. The look on Carlita's face when she overheard how he was describing Cat didn't even make him pause. He just examined her – she was already feeling too many emotions. Emotion equals strings, and strings are one thing he can't do; especially if they aren't with her. However, having caught her eye before surgery kept him going through the grueling process, and a small part of him thought that she would be there after he finished; that small part grew in intensity, as she was nowhere to be found. Finally he asked Dr. Morley; he was shocked when the doctor regaled him with the story. "What?" He hit the table in fury. "How can you fire her? Yes she has bipolar but when she is medicated she saves lives, hell even unmedicated she accomplished more than most doctors do in a lifetime. She was going though a low when she scribed herself some pills. She was calling for help and no one was there to listen." As he said it, it was as if it registered for the first time in his head; he failed her - he wasn't there to listen to her.
"I'm sorry Bick, there is nothing I can do."
With one last slap at the table Bickman stormed out of the room. Carlita found him on his way to his office and he just pounced on her. Screw his silent agreement with himself, he needed to release some stress. Now, not only is he not friends – nor lovers – with Catherine, Doctor Black was no longer his colleague.
That brings him back to the present; where she lay beside him.
"I can feel you staring at me you know." She opened one chocolate orb as she rolled onto her side.
Little did she know…
He smirked at her, before leaving the warm enclave of the sheets. He couldn't do a morning of debauchery after thinking about Catherine. "I actually need to head to the office to pick up a few things that I left yesterday, in our haste," he adds with a wink. "Mind if we pick this up later?"
They both got dressed in silence. Little did he know that she was the one who spilt the beans on Doctor Black. Little did she know that Doctor Black has consumed him, since the moment he laid eyes on her.
They left the hotel together and he saw her into a cab and his door to his new Audi R8 was open for him, ready to go.
Ten short minutes later he found himself at hospital. He didn't forget anything, he doesn't forget. However he knew Doctor Catherine Black, he knew that she would want to clear out her office herself, and on Sunday - most of the people on their usual rotation have time off; just like themselves. Deciding that it was probably to or early for her to be in, he made his way to his office to get ahead on some of his paperwork.
An hour later, and four phone calls to the front desk there was still no sign of Catherine. Deciding to give his paperwork a break, Ian went to stretch his legs. He found himself being drawn to the lobby of the building. Leaning over the desk and conversing with the nurse on duty he stopped when he saw an EMT staff rush into the building.
"Female, 32, she was unconscious for fifteen minutes, hit by a drunk driver, she has a glass shard imbedded into her stomach and cranial swelling." Everyone immediately got out of the way. That's when Bick saw her.
No. No. NO.
He immediately rushed to the gurney.
There was red liquid coating her own red hair – blood had never looked so potent and thick to him before, it was dried around her face; accentuating her pallor. All in all it had a macabre feel to it.
Machines started beeping profusely, she was crashing. Bick jumped into doctor mode, yelling instructions he hopped onto the gurney with her and started chest compressions "Come on Cat. Come on..." He trailed off as a nurse placed a defibrillator over her mouth. He felt the gurney come to a stop and he quickly hopped off, noticing that blood was coating his shirt. "Wait!" He called. "She has another bleed." In that moment the EMTs accompanying them looked worried. Carefully they turned her over discovering a piece of metal near the middle of her back - too close to her spine for his liking.
Bick knew he shouldn't be scrubbing up, that he was far from impartial but he had to do this. He needed to make sure that she had the best possible care and he was the best. If all went well, he wouldn't have to operate, but with all of her other injuries in addition to cranial swelling, they can't be certain.
Ian hadn't even noticed Owen enter the room until he pulled him aside. "The driver, he needs you Bick."
Clenching his eyes shut he slowly let out a breath and shook his head. "I...I can't," Owen was about to interrupt but Bick continued, "I can't be impartial, I can't forget who the patient is. I can't operate on someone who hurt her, I just, I just can't. I wish I could but I am too involved to operate. I - you need to find someone else."
Owen placed a hand on Bicks shoulder, "she is going to be okay, Bick. She has the best possible care in the world. She is a fighter, and we both know that. She is going to be okay." He reiterated.
That was what Bick had to hope for. He scrubbed up proficiently, making sure everything he did was thorough - he couldn't have this wrong, he just couldn't. His own heart stopped for a moment when she was going into V-tac, though resumed beating again when she was stable. He was glad that he didn't need to operate; it would be too much for him.
He watched over, examining everything that the other surgeons were doing, he would have their asses handed to them if they fucked this up. If something happened to Cat because they weren't proficient…He didn't know what he would do.
After the surgery he looked up to the viewing room, seeing Owen smile he returned a small one of his own. She lived to fight another day. Though they would both be happier when she is awake and back on her feet.
Bick took a quick shower and changed into a casual outfit, he wasn't going anywhere - not tonight, preferably ever. She wanted to start over, and he just didn't listen. Now she was too scared to put her heart back on the line – he wasn't going to give her a choice. He needed her, surely enough as he needed air to breath. He understood what it was like to have a near death experience; his own instigated a new depth to he and Catherine's relationship. He just never knew what it felt like to be on this side. The side where you worry, where guilt for all of the things you left unsaid consume you, where you are recalling all of the times you have seen her beautiful face, afraid that if you close your eyes you will see her beautiful features marred with blood.
He leaned heavily on the wall behind him. This is not okay. His feelings for her are not okay. But what is he willing to do. He tried ending it, as if by ending all sexual contact with her he can erase how she felt from his mind, how her head threw back her he found that particularly sensitive spot on the base of her neck. In most ways, it's worse when they aren't sleeping together - he has no way to release all of his pent up emotion; all of the sexual tension the accumulate in any given day. Yes, ending things was worse.
He even tried distracting himself with different women, hoping that in one of them he would find a fraction of what he found in her. A fraction of pure bliss that he rode for barely a month. Yet that month was one of the best, if not the best he had ever experienced.
That leaves one solution, the one less travelled; or in his case, never travelled. This option was not one he felt like he could entertain; maybe it was because he never had before? But then again he had never felt lust so powerful before and agony at the possibility she could be taken away from him forever.
On his way to her room in the ICU he paused as he passed her office door. Closing the door behind him he took the room in. It is so much like her, wild and adventurous as well as extremely competent and proper. On her bookshelf lay three of her own publications among a dozen or so neuro- favourites. A small plastic brain rested on a shelf that he labeled knickknacks. This shelf also contained a photo of her and her niece. Shit. In all of his own turmoil he had never thought about calling her family. Fumbling through the bag of her personal belongings he had in his hand he found her phone, with barely 10% battery he scrolled through until he found 'Josh'. It rang once. Twice. A few more times.
"Hi you've reached Josh Black sorry I can't take your call but I am on vacation and won't get cell service. Leave a message."
Great.
Her family was gone. She needs to recover from this alone. Not alone he mentally chastised himself, he would never leave her alone.
He still held her phone in his hand, he noticed 'Will' in the recent activity. Should he? Shouldn't he? Closing his eyes, he contemplated the thought.
-BB-
I know that my love for you is real
It's something true that we do, just something natural that I feel
When you walk in the room, when you're near
I feel my heart skip a beat, the whole world disappears
-BB-
A sort of cliffhanger. My first time writing FF in a while (so hopefully it wasn't too bad). I have a few more ideas to get out (as well as continuing this story) but I want to know if season 2 is going to be underway before I post the others. #season2blackbox
Now the issue of Catherine's age. I thought she was older, but Esme is around 16 and she had Esme at 16 so…
Please review, they are like brain food.
I should have the next installment out by the weekend.
Good bye for now and lets get writing for this fandom!