Broken
There were some things in life that remained the same after getting divorced.
For one thing, hospital food still tasted terrible. It had tasted terrible before getting married, it had tasted terrible while he'd been married, and now, two weeks after he ceased to be married, it tasted, of all things, terrible. Actually, Jack reflected, it tasted even worse now. Like ashes in his mouth, if ashes had the taste of food that tasted of…well, nothing, really. But the pudding was somewhat passable, so there was that.
Such were Jack Shephard's thoughts as he ate in the cafeteria of St Sebastian's. Two weeks since he and Sarah had got divorced. Two weeks of the staff giving him sympathy, as well as uneasy glances. Two weeks of reduced hours, a holdover of those same shifts he had signed up for in a bid to save his marriage. Two weeks, he reflected, of those sons of bitches being validated. Doctor-patient relationships never worked. It was one thing for a patient to became attached to their surgeon/doctor/nurse/whatever, something else entirely for those feelings to be reciprocated.
"Jack Shepard."
He looked up, and for a moment, smiled. For a moment, forgot about the last few months of his life. Forgot about Sarah, forgot that his father was still hitting the bottle, forgot that Ben Ronaldo, age 17, had died in surgery last week. Smiled, and got up from his chair.
"Allison."
She smiled, and shook his hand. "Can I sit?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure, sure," he said. They both sat down. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, just here for the lecture," she said. "Kay Olona."
"Right," he said.
It made sense that someone like Allison Cameron would be here, Jack reflected. She was an immunologist at Princeton-Plainsboro, and Olona was one of the top minds in the field. And, he reflected, any second outside Princeton was one second spent being away from Doctor House. A man who, like Olona, was a genius. A man who, unlike Olona, was an arsehole to doctors and patients alike, and got away from it because everyone knew he was the smartest man in the room.
Should set him up with dad.
"So," Jack asked. "How's Princeton?"
"Oh yeah, fine," she said. "We're in a good spell right now, only getting critical patients once every two weeks instead of one."
"Foreman and Chase?"
"Yeah, good."
"And-"
"And how about you?" she asked. "I mean, I heard about you and Kate."
So she wasn't intent on discussing House. Well, fine, Jack thought, he'd play. Cameron could avoid tales of pseudo-misery for his tales of actual misery.
"Well," Jack said, leaning back in his chair and pushing lunch to one side, "I'm a bit poorer. Still less busy than I was before. Dad's still dad, mum's still mum, and the sky's still blue."
Cameron frowned – "I'm sorry," she said.
"Yeah, well, don't be," he said. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "She was right, you know."
"Who?"
"Sarah," he said. "She was right – I'm a surgeon. I fix things. Only reason that we got married was that I fixed her spine. So, after getting fixed, everything's broken."
"That's not true," Cameron said. "I saw you together."
"Before everything broke," Jack said, sighing. "Fuck, I couldn't even get my wedding vows right."
Cameron didn't say anything. If she had, Jack might have gone on to say that they were no different. Cameron had married a man in the knowledge that he had thyroid cancer, and six months to live. She'd been with him in life and death, and what she'd got out of it bar what pittance he had left, only Cameron could say. But Jack could tell what she had – Cameron, like him, was a doctor. Doctors healed. Doctors had to fix what was broken, even when it could never be repaired.
"Anyway," Cameron said, getting to her feet. "I've got to go. Nice seeing you Jack."
She nodded, and he reflected that maybe he was even worse. Sarah had been 'fixed.' And he'd broken it anyway.
So he returned to what was left of his lunch.
Only ashes.
