A/N: Hello! Hello! I hope you all have had a wonderful week, and a romantic Valentine's day! This chapter is the longest one yet (whoop!) so I am very excited! In honor of Valentines day, we've got some Kate + Nixon= Romance in this chapter3I would like to say though, I hope that I do these moments justice because I'm not very good at displaying emotion, in real life or in my stories:)Oh, and one more thing If you like any of the songs used in this story, please check out my bio- I have links to the songs on YouTube!
Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, or placed alerts on my story! It means a whole lot:)
Disclaimer: I do not own the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers, nor do I intend to. I recognize that these are real men, and wish to offend no one. I am writing this, purely for my own enjoyment.
Please Enjoy and have a great week!
AC xoxo
Two pots of coffee later and me emptying my whole carton of lucky strikes, Lewis Nixon was finally sober enough to have a rational conversation with yours truly; although nothing would be rational about this conversation. "Good. You're sober," I said with a fake smile
"Enough so, I just wish the room would stop spinning," he said putting his hands on either side of his head. I pulled a wooden chair out from one of the circle tables and put it in the middle of the floor.
"Sit," I ordered motioning towards the chair
"You're going to listen and I'm going to talk- clear?" I wasn't really asking
"Ay Gunny!" he replied referring to the Marines, though he was in the Army.
"Do you want me to fill you in on why your new nickname is ass grabber now or later?"
"I always save desert for last," he said
"Why don't we just skip the gristle and get right down to the bone, you Lewis Nixon married Katharine Page four years ago- correct?"
"Yes,"
"And you had a normal ceremony, in sickness and in health- all that jazz,"
"The day was a bit of a blur,"
"Well I'm going to guess yes,"
"And you got Katharine pregnant right before you shipped out?"
"Yes,"
"Did you intend to?"
"This is a little personal,"
"When you were making love to Katherine was the reason because she wanted a mini Nixon?"
"We talked about it,"
"So you weren't surprised?"
"Maybe a little," I moved from in front of him and began to pace around the room, with my arms folded behind my back.
"So when you became a father you found out about it and were happy?" He scratched his left temple and squinted a little. "Not exactly, I was in Mourmelon- France when she was born after Operation Market Garden and I found out when I finally got my mail," I felt like I wanted to punch him in the face every time he said anything. He made me want to punch a wall, or take up boxing. He made so much anger and sadness well up inside me when he talked that I wanted to scream; finally it all came to a screeching halt. I couldn't hold it in anymore. Maybe it wasn't any of my business and I hardly knew him, but I wanted him to realize the pain that Charlotte still feels and Katharine felt on that fateful day.
I walked straight in front of Mr. Nixon this time, hands balled up at their sides and my finger nails pushing into my palms. "I want you to know something. The reason I am so angry at you is on October 25th at 8:01 p.m. a woman with dark blonde hair, hazel eyes and a collapsed lung came into the trauma bay," I took a deep breath
"I tried to help her, I even tried to give her a tracheotomy but she just couldn't hold on. She asked me to help her baby right before she died,"
"So I did help her baby who we almost lost as well. I went to talk to her dad to see if he would be willing to help. He said he wanted nothing to do with Charlotte. You're all she's got," I looked at his eyes for a second which were watery and looked as though they were threatening to spill over. I felt sad for a second but, my anger returned just as soon as it left. I walked towards the bar, leaning against it for support. "And here you are six days later drunk, paying for women, and being a complete coward!" He stood up angrily and rushed over to me coming so close that I could hear his rushed breathing. "How dare you call me a coward! I fought in the war- I woke up every morning waiting for someone to kill me," He seemed to tower over me, and was trying to intimidate me. I stepped around and stood behind the bar. "If you want me to call you a hero and give you a free blow job because you stopped jerry then you need to think again!"
"And what do you know about loss and fear!"
"I know a lot about the both!" my voice began to quiver
"You don't get medals in civilian life for being brave! Or losing someone! You don't get a free vacation when you kill somebody! And you violence isn't encouraged here!" I said
"And what the hell did you do for the war effort?!"
"I'm not concerned about the damned war effort right now! I'm concerned about the fact that your daughter almost died and lost her mother- and is about to lose a father!"
"I don't need to hear this right now!" he said still yelling
"Yes you do! Pick yourself up! Stop drinking! Start being a father! Start giving a damn! And stop fucking feeling sorry for yourself! Your goddamn ass better be at the fucking hospital by tomorrow morning or your rights will be forever removed regarding your child!"
"You can't do that!"
"Oh yes I can!" I didn't notice that he began to drink when I was talking or that he was holding the bottle in his hand but he threw the empty bottle directly at me, hitting me in the shoulder and shattering, sending searing pain down my arm. I let out yelp and tears began to stream down my face. "You will regret this," I hissed, holding my shoulder.
I walked out the door of Eddie's bar and into the rain looking for my deep red Plymouth Coupe. My shoulder hurt and I was drenched in rain, and blood. My hair felt matted and disgusting; I started my car and headed towards home still looking forward to that scotch and bubble bath. When I finally pulled up to my apartment building nestled perfectly in the Upper East Side, I finally let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I didn't greet the door man as I rushed into the complex, and made a beeline for the elevator. Finally, I got to the fifth floor. I unlocked my door and let out a sigh as I stepped into my apartment. I quickly flipped my shoes off, stripped down to just my undergarments, and went to my bedroom to grab a light pink silk floor length robe. By this time my mind was racing with so many thoughts and I had forgotten about my injured shoulder- until now.
I desperately needed something VERY strong to take the pain away- I wouldn't mind some of that Vat 69 right about now, but I had a good bottle waiting for me in my cupboard.
I went into the kitchen, and got a very nice bottle of Macallan 18 scotch. I poured myself a nice helping and went into the bathroom to draw a bath. Once the tub was filled with bubbles and hot water I cleaned the wound on my shoulder with iodine, and alcohol and decided it would be safer to leave the shards of glass in than to take them out. I shed the rest of my undergarments, turned on the radio, lit a cigarette and climbed into the bath.
I tried to relax! I really did. My scotch was empty, cigarette gone, and the news stopped playing on the radio. Music would make me relax- right? I laid my head back on the rim of the tub and closed my eyes waiting to hear the music. Ahhhh there it was.
You always hurt the one you love, the one you shouldn't hurt at all… Great! This song is soooo appropriate right about now. But it really wasn't (or so I thought) Lewis Nixon does NOT love me, and I do NOT love him. Yes, he hurt me physically but not emotionally; this was not about me! This was about Charlotte. So If I broke your heart last night, It's because I love you most of all… Damnit! I began to cry (this wasn't normal, I never cry) and my shoulder stung even more. He made me feel worthless! And now I feel stupid because I hardly know him. This isn't fair for me to be so upset about this- I'm not a dramatic person. It's probably just the scotch talking; I need to get to bed. So I dragged myself out of the tub, half-heartedly dried myself off, curled up on my bed spread and cried myself to sleep.
I came to a decision that night that I thought would be the most beneficial for everyone, including me. I would be taken off of Charlotte Nixon's case, this way I wouldn't ever have to see him, and he would never have to see me.
I made myself look as awake and cheery as possible, and I put on a simple skirt and silk blouse. I tied my hair back into a chignon, and opted out of heels. I didn't feel very sexy, or beautiful, or human for that matter. All I needed to do was get through the day, then I could come home and put my feet up; I just desperately needed to stop thinking about him. The day was dreary and cold, so I wore a black rain coat walking into the hospital, but my hair still got drenched. I was on a mission to find a certain Dr. Hastings and get the hell off that case; I knew he would listen to his favorite Doctor in the hospital. After all, he was Chief Surgeon.
"What?! I cannot stay on that case!"
"Well then I need to know why,"
"It would just be better for everyone,"
"No,"
"Please, Sir!"
"Not. A. Chance! I need a reason Bennett! A real reason,"
"Fine! Thank you sir," I knew I wouldn't win the fight, but I wasn't sure how long I could act professional around a selfish drunk. I went to the Nurses' station to look at my Rounds for the day, but then I realized after my rounds I would be on call! So I didn't have much time – which would be very good today.
As usual my rounds consisted of congratulating my patients on the fact that they pooped, and having sad conversations with Family members. I rubbed my face as soon as I walked into Charlotte's room, not expecting to see him there. Low and behold! Lewis Nixon was sitting in the wicker chair playing with Charlotte's fingers. He was even smiling! But I would not smile for Mr. Nixon, only for Miss Charlotte, Mr. Nixon did not deserve one of my smiles.
"So you finally decided to make an appearance. Very good Mr. Nixon- will you be taking the show on the road?" I said sarcasm and bitterness evident in my voice.
"I want to apologize. But, I know that an apology will never make up for what I did last night. I'm here to stay. You were right and I was wrong," he made eye contact with me and I could tell he was being completely sincere, but it still sounded a little fairy-tailish to me. "Do you remember exactly what you did last night?" I questioned
"The bar tender told me that I acted rude towards you. I'm not normally like that,"
"I find that VERY hard to believe," I turned away from him and walked to the other side of the crib, looking at Charlotte, examining her and picking her up despite the sting in my shoulder. I bounced her up and down a few times before I chose to speak.
"If you're serious about staying and taking care of Charlotte, I suggest that you stop drinking so much, find a decent place to live, and stop smoking in the house," this was my test to see if he was really serious.
"I'm going to try as best I can," he looked me directly in the eye, making me feel as though he could see right through me, I handed him Charlotte and as I began to make it towards the door. He grabbed my wrist spinning me around, sending shivers down my spine. I swallowed and looked at the floor. "Dr. Bennett?" I didn't answer him, tears threatened to fall, and I was not about to let him see me cry. His voice sounded soft and sweet making me feel so safe. I had never felt this safe, that's why I needed to leave- because he made me feel something.
He didn't touch me because he knew that I would run, so instead he talked to me sweetly and softly. "You never did introduce yourself to me," I let out an awkward laugh and Charlotte babbled and clapped her hands together. "Maybe we can start over?" he asked not looking at me. I smiled coyly and put out my hand "I'm Doctor Bennett, chief trauma resident,"
"I'm Lewis Nixon, Charlotte's father," he took my offered hand and squeezed it instead of shaking it; we stood like that for a few moments until Charlotte started to cry. I cleared my throat, "Right. Well… uh… I've got to go and do some surgeries and stuff like that," I backed up, hitting the door in the process and walked out of the room, my face as red as a tomato.
My shoulder stung a lot and I knew I should get it checked out, but I just kept putting it off. I was glad that Nixon might finally be stepping up to the plate, but I was still angry; I was also conflicted, because I felt guilty for being angry. Boy was tonight going to be busy! It was Halloween, though I never really celebrated it because half of New York always celebrated for me. And most of the doctors would be on call tonight, because well- Halloween is one of the craziest days at the hospital.
The Emergency Department was filled to the rim with people in costumes smelling like peanuts and beer, of course I wasn't too excited because when the E.R was full and the Trauma Section was not, I got to work in the E.R.! (Insert sarcasm here.)
I lost two patients that night; both were because of bar violence. Then I operated on three more patients, and finally stitched, set, and gave fluids to about twelve more lucky guests. I no longer felt the pain in my arm, and that was because it went numb. It started to tingle in the O.R, and then it just went numb. I was just about to fill my belly with hot food and nice warm coffee, when another trauma patient came in.
I flung open the curtain and looked at the man on the bed, a police officer was next to him but the man looked perfectly calm. His shirt was taken off, and his wrists were all bloody. "Tried to slit his wrists and kill himself doc,"
"Jesus," I said as I took the bandage off and realized how much damage had been done. "Listen, I'll be right back, I gotta criminal in the next room,"
"Okay," he exited the room, and left just me and the nurse with the man. He was going to need surgery, but I needed to sedate him first. I started towards him with a needle and he took the opportunity to head but my shoulder in the process.
I clenched my jaw. I could not let him see my pain- it was too late anyways. He was dead.
I felt the blood seeping through my white scrubs as I called his time of death and all feeling had returned to my arm. I saw the nurse exit the room and I put my lab coat back on over my scrubs, and shoved a large piece of gauze between my bra strap and my arm.
"Looks like we don't have any trauma coming in for a while,"
"Good," I said trying to sound cheerful. I took advantage of this moment by sneaking into an empty room and stealing a wound debridement kit. I took the elevator upstairs, entered my office and closed the blinds. I unfolded the sterile kit and put it on my metal rolling tray. It took all my power to not make a sound of pain as I pulled off my lab coat, and scrub top. I pulled my bra strap down, exposing part of my breast and I tied my golden, curly hair into a bun on top of my head. I put on the mask, and the sterile gloves, and gingerly applied iodine to the swollen area.
I took the hemostats and began to pull out each shard of glass, one by one; each causing me a lot of pain, and each making me more and more angry. I got the last piece that I could see, and properly flushed the wound and wrapped it in gauze. I pulled a fresh scrub top on just in time for someone to knock on my office door. I opened it to reveal Mr. Nixon standing in front of me looking worried. "Come in?" I said sounding quite confused. I moved aside so that he could enter and sit on my not so comfortable couch. "Well?"
"I need clarification," my shoulder was throbbing, and I was half listening
"Clarification?" I was still very confused
"Do you think I can do this?" I sat down in my chair and let out a sigh
"I don't know,"
"So what should I do?"
"I think you should try,"
"Try what? Just give me a straight answer," he was becoming annoyed
"I don't know!" I said and stood up
"Give me an answer!" he said nearing towards me. And I got scared. I shut down.
"I don't know if I can quit drinking and be a perfect father, and live up to everyone's expectations! I just want to give Charlotte a good childhood!" he exclaimed, his face red. He had me backed up into a corner. I broke.
"My shoulder hurts so bad!" I started to sob.
"You did it to me! You hurt me!" I said in a barley audible whisper.
"You threw a bottle at me and it shattered. You hurt me!" he looked at me not knowing what to say, I felt so scared! I felt like he would hurt me again.
"I'm so sorry," he said quietly as he looked at the floor
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed tears running down his cheeks. It's the first time I'd seen so much hurt in one man's eyes.
We both began to sob.
Nixon inched closer to me and pulled me towards him, I didn't know what to do but I knew I felt safe. He lowered us to the ground and I buried my face in his neck as we cried together. He rubbed small circles on my back, and I finally decided to speak up. "I think you can do it," I quietly stated in between sobs, and buried my head back in his neck.