Rated: T

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them.

On Call

"Paging Dr. Morgan, consult in pediactrics. Dr. Morgan to pediactrics."

The man in question looked up from the chart he was signing with a blink of mild surprise. As the transplant service chief here at General Hospital, it wasn't unheard of that he was called in for a consultation in other departments but Peds was probably his least favorite. There was just something about kids and hospitals that made his heart ache.

A quick glance down at his diver's watch showed he had three hours until his next procedure. A surgery between a young mother and her son, where he would transplant a small portion of her liver to his diseased one in hopes of ensuring the twenty month old boy's would regenerate.

It was the type of surgeries he was known for. Acclaimed for. Had been written up in journals for. Gave speeches on. Whereas almost twenty years ago, a living donor transplantation was ground breaking, today it was almost a part of general rotation. In fact, he had already been questioned about doing the procedure when there were probably more interesting operations he could be performing. He gave the clueless first year resident who was determined to impress him the same response he gave all idiots.

All of them are important.

"Epiphany, make sure Ms. Webber is prepped and in OR five on time. And tell Dr. Drake if he tries to steal my OR this time I won't settle for kicking his ass on the basketball court."

The nurse looked down at him with a familiar blend of fond indulgence and amusment. It was common knowledge that the two best friends were known for stealing each other's operating rooms if the opportunity arose. Their reputations at GH were legendary. Both were extremely talented surgeons with egos the size of a small third world country, but always dedicated to providing the best care to their patients.

They treated their teams with the utmost respect and the nursing staff with their due fear, knowing that while they might be the famed doctors the hospital couldn't survive without the nursing staff.

"Of course. Dr. Morgan, your mother asked if she might have some of the first years observe?"

They both shared a look of annoyance but he knew that Monica wouldn't have asked without good reason. After taking the postion of Chief of Staff when his father Alan died two years ago, Monica had made it a point to keep an eye on the residents. She was dedicated to General Hospital and determined that it would provide the best care possible for all of it's patients.

"As long as they stay in the observatory," he muttered, handing her the chart, "If they scrub in, I'm leaving you in charge of all of their questions."

Epiphany was the lead surgical nurse on his team for more than six years now. She was so good, that he no longer had to ask for instruments. No sooner had a throught flickered through his head than she was slapping the steel into his palm. He had no doubt that if there was an emergency, Epiphany could finish any number of procedures he'd performed during their tenure together.

"Oh joy," she smiled dryly. "Just what I've always wanted, newbies pulling at my skirt tails."

"Well, you are the mother hen," he gave her a small grin. "If you see Drake before I do, tell him I have to cancel lunch with him and Robin. I have a consult down in Peds." Besides, they wanted him to meet some new girl Robin met last night at Jake's over a game of pool. The consult saved him the change from his comfortable green scrubs and white sneakers into the stiff suit Robin had insisted on. Last thing he wanted was a blind date. Just because the newlyweds were deliriously happy didn't mean he was ready to fall victim to matchmaking spouses.

He loved Robin to death, but the last woman she fixed him up with, the infamous model Brenda Barrett, had driven him insane in the short fifteen minutes he suffered through dinner before being paged by the hospital.

"Anything else you need from me, oh wise and benevolent one?"

"You find me an efficent secretary who doesn't misfile my records, forget to give me my messages and doesn't sneak into my office and strip down to the buff scaring me half to death, and I'd give you my first born." They both knew with his schedule, a good assistant was just as important as a good nurse.

"Ms. Jones didn't work out, hun?"

"Let's just say if Maxie Jones paid half the attention to her work as she did to cooking up inane schemes, she'd be a godsend."

"How about Georgie Jones? I hear she's a bit calmer than her older sister. She worked as a striper for a while until she graduated from PCU. Efficent, intelligent and I can guarnetee she won't try to molest you in your office."

"She's engaged to Dillon right?" His cousin had cornered him during brunch one afternoon at the mansion to give him the pink invitation. Promptly causing a fight between the young indy film director and Tracy, Dillon's mother.

"That's right. She was in human resources the other day putting her resume on file just incase something opened up."

"I'll take her," he jumped on it, "Thanks Epiphany. I guess I owe you a bundle of joy, hun?"

"At the rate you're going, I'll be too old to enjoy one."

"Not you too," he groaned, scrubbing a hand through his shaggy hair, feeling a thick band of it fall back over onto his forehead. He was long over due for a cut, had actually planned one for yesterday but an emergency trauma came in at the end of his ER rotation. "Just because I'm not a reformed skirt chaser like some surgeons I could mention, doesn't mean I don't date.

"Leave off the rest and you have it perfect," Epiphany rolled her eyes, "When was the last time you took a woman out for nice time?"

Much too long, he mentally responded. Epiphany was right, but he had learned his lesson the hard way. Relationships were out. Dating took way too much effort. And it was generally a good idea to steer clear of women who wanted more than dinner, a nice bottle of wine and a quick tumble.

That way no one was disappointed when his pager went off in the middle of a dinner party. Or he had to reschedule a vacation due to an emergency surgery. Or when he walked in the door sometime after midnight and found the woman he was involved with bouncing between the sheets with his former good friend Sonny Corinthos. That little relevation had put him off blondes probably for the rest of his life.

"I have a great time with you, Epiphany," he teased as she released a loud burst of laughter. "I mean, how can I go wrong there?"

"Alright, I get it, I get it," she relented, "No interfering. Stanley says the same thing when I try to fix him up with Dr. Winters."

"Psych department Dr. Winters?" he lifted a querrying brow, remembering the lovely face and nice curves. "I thought you said Stan was a genius?" Before Epiphany could transfer her matchmaking efforts, Jason turned toward the elevators. "See you in a few," he nodded, stepping in side when the doors slid open.

After checking in at the nurses station and being sent down the hall to consult room D, he stopped at the open doorway and released a heavy breath of annoyance as he realized who had paged him.

The ice bitch.

Granted she was magnificent, no other words could describe that beauty. Eyes the color of a perfectly blended single malt showed intelligence but a remote insolence that was immediately off putting. She had a mouth made for sin, if it wasn't always pinched tight as if she were sucking on something foul. A face of well modeled femininity. Hair a shiny mahogany but was always scrapped back in a bun.

Then there was those clothes. Severe tailored suits did nothing to conceal the mouthwatering, melting curves of her body. Stilettos that made her legs look long and regal despite her petite stature. Today she was drapped in a deep moss green, a classic single breasted jacket nipping in that tiny waist and a perfectly suitable skirt that skimmed just at the knees. Even the white blouse she wore beneath was a bit of no frills no nonsense.

None of that meant he hadn't had a few improper thoughts about her.

"Dr. Morgan, well you certainly took your time."

And a voice that sounded like straight sex. That husky alto was made for moaning. Except for moments like this when it dropped the temperature of a room ten full degrees.

"And how are you doing today, Ms. McCall?" Rather than respond to the rebuke, he went for sociable. Samantha McCall was not going to get on his bad side. Hopefully, this would be over fairly quickly. Perhaps he could make his lunch with Patrick and Robin after all. Dr. Kelly Lee was begining to sound much more intersting than suffering through this.

"I'm quite fine, thank you," she responded, sitting down at the conference room table in front of the folders she had spread open. Holding back a flicker of annoyance, he closed the door behind him, locking it for privacy and crossed the room.

Ms. McCall was a number cruncher. Now he had nothing against number crunchers, they after all kept General Hospital stable financially but Ms. McCall seemed to take particular interest in nitpicking at all of his cases.

"I need to speak with you concerning Ms. Webber's procedure later on today," she picked up her gold pin and began scribbling on some ledger so he resolved himself to the agony and sat down in the chair opposite her and reclined back folding his hands over his chest. "There have been some problems with her insurance coverage, that need to be addressed."

"How much?"

Those liquid brown eyes flashed straight to his with a mixture of annoyance and awareness. It was a startling combination. "Excuse me?"

"I'm guessing you called me down here because of some money concern. How much is the insurance company willing to pay and what will be the remaining bill." He had spoken at length with Elizabeth Webber and she had warned him that the insurance she had from working as waitress at Kelly's Diner wouldn't be enough to pay for the expensive procedure for her son Cameron.

He would never forget the look on that brave little boy's face who lay in his hospital bed not truly understanding why he was in pain and held on to his mother's hand and reassurance that everything would be okay. That Dr. Morgan would help make the pain go away.

He just couldn't believe that Ms. McCall was going to make an issue of this the afternoon of the surgery.

"Yes, well, it is my responsiblity," she began but he cut her off again.

"How much?"

Jason watched as her tongue trailed across her lips quickly, disconcertedly, as her fingers manipulated the elegant pin, before she looked at him again. What was that in her eyes? Could it actually be compassion for the little boy would was threatening to go into renal failure unless he recived this transplant?

"Too much."

Furious, he shoved to his feet, "I can't believe this crap!"

"Dr. Morgan, please," she started.

"This hospital has spent years dedicated to healing, of providing care to everyone of Port Charles."

"Dr. Morgan, if you would just allow me,"

"And somehow we've managed it without some damned pencil pushers picking and chosing which patients deserve care whether or not they can afford it!"

Insult lifted one of those perfectly arched brows, "Oh really."

"That's right," he stalked forward and grabbed the pin out of her hand and snatched a blank sheet of paper from her portfolio. He ignored the interested expression on her face and scribbled down his personal account number for his banking instituion.

"I guess you have me all figured out hun? The evil accountant who is out to deprive a young boy out of critical medical care?"

"Isn't that what you just said," he stood and folded his arms over his chest, to glare down at her.

"Actually," she carefully pushed back from her chair and planted her fists on the table, "All I said was that the insurance company wouldn't provide proper coverage. You're the one who leapt to conclusions about what I was going to say next."

Then she looked down at the sheet of paper, lifting it to glare from it to his face, "Is this what I think it is?"

"What do you think?"

A flare of rage lit those eyes just as she balled up the paper and threw it in his face, "You insulting, asshole! Did you honestly think I wouldn't have found a way for that surgery to be covered?" She followed up the paper with hard shove in the chest with her fist. "Do you think you're the only one who cares about the patients here in this hospital?"

"Then what was all of this about! It's not like I don't have reason to question your motives. Remember the Spencer surgery three weeks ago?"

"Lucky Spencer had no source of income and no insurance. A liver transplant to a recovering alcholic and drug addict that would have left him debiliated for weeks isn't exactly good business practice for the hospital. How was he going to cover it?"

Okay, he had been less than sympathetic to the twenty-nine year old young man who had destroyed his body and promising police career due to substance and alcohol abuse. But that idiot was just one of many instances she had tried to interfere in one of his patients treatment. Why shouldn't he suspect her motives?

"So if you've found a way to cover the Webber transplant, what is with the big consult?"

Jason watched her cringe, nibble on her lower lip nervously and frowned with confusion. Now wasn't this first. The normally unflappable Samantha McCall was actually flumoxed. "I was," she inhaled deeply and let it out as if bracing herself. Whatever decision she reached, he sure as hell wasn't expecting her next words.

"I needed an excuse."

"An excuse?" He echoed and was begining to get suspicious.

"To see you, alright!" The words came out fast and practically in a shout, "I needed an excuse to see you. I wanted to ask you out on a date. There, are you satisfied!"

Cerulean eyes blinked once, twice, before widening in disbelief, "A date?"

"Yes," she muttered, then began gathering her papers and shoving them into their folders. "I misused my authority, I overstepped and used hospital time for my own personal use. There. I said it."

"I," don't know what to say didn't sound good and judging from the glare she sent his way he was probably right.

"It was stupid anyway," she muttered, "So just forget about. Forget this ever happened." Finished, she grabbed her leather briefcase and was two seconds from storming from the room.

"Wait," he held out a hand, grabbing her arm. She tugged once in protest, then seemed to relax as if waiting for a harsh word. "You want to ask me on a date?"

"Is that so strange? You're an attractive man, I am an interested woman, that is the nature of things. Dating."

"I thought you didn't like me?"

It was her turn to blink this time. Whatever she saw in his face made the most sensual smile he'd ever seen curve her lips. It shot heat to his groin, blood from his head and gave him all kinds of dirty thoughts. If he could make her smile like that, he wanted a hell of a lot more than a date.

"What on earth gave you that idea?"