Disclaimer: My father always used to say I could write for the soaps, but I never did. I own none of these characters and only played with them for fun.
Later that week, Marcie had another appointment with her OB-GYN. She was very excited, and a little nervous; today was going to be her first ultra-sound. She had changed into a hospital gown and sat on the examining table, swinging her legs impatiently. There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she called. Instead of Dr. Benjamin, however, who should come into the room but Michael.
"Hi, Marcie," he said with a smile.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaimed, reaching instinctively for her clothes, but they were too far away. She folded her arms in front of her, uncomfortably aware that all she was wearing was a hospital gown.
"I'm assisting your doctor," said Al, "It's part of my residency." He took a deep breath to steady himself. It had been almost a week since Marcie had saved Michael's life and Al had taken over his body. It had been torture to go that long without seeing Marcie, but he knew that he needed to approach her slowly and figure out who Michael had been before he saw her again. As it was, it was taking all of his willpower to stand here with seeming nonchalance instead of taking Marcie in his arms and kissing her passionately. He knew she would disagree, but Al thought she looked damn sexy, even if she was just wearing a hospital gown.
"What do you mean, you're assisting my doctor? Since when do you work in OB-GYN? The last time I saw you, you were working in the walk-in clinic."
"That's the way residency works," Al said patiently, "They rotate your assignments every few months, to give you a feel for as many different areas of medicine as possible. My last rotation was in Family Medicine, which is the new term for being a GP. I just got transferred to obstetrics."
"Did you finagle this so you could see me?" Marcie shot back, her eyes narrowed.
"No, that's just a pleasant surprise." It was also the truth. The transfer had been arranged long before Michael's death. It was, Al considered, the only real piece of luck he'd had so far.
"I don't want you here," Marcie said.
"Why?" Al asked, suddenly in an agony of apprehension.
"I just don't. I'm not comfortable with you examining me." It had been one thing to let him examine her when he was a perfect stranger, but Marcie really didn't want to undergo a gynecological examination in front of someone with whom she'd been on a date, disastrous or otherwise. It was just much too weird.
"I'm a perfect professional," he protested.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't care." Al took a deep breath, trying to think fast.
"OK," he said. Best not to push this if he had any hope getting Marcie to like him. "Fine. This happens sometimes. There was another woman in here a few days ago to give birth. She knew one of the residents from college, and he asked her if she would mind him assisting with her delivery. She didn't mind, but you do. That's fine. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." At that moment, Dr. Benjamin entered.
"Everything ready, Michael?" she asked.
"Not quite," he replied, "Marcie and I know each other socially, and she'd rather that another resident assist you."
"OK," Dr. Benjamin said, already starting to look through some papers, "Sorry about that, Marcie," she added over her shoulder, "I think you should be able to switch with Chloe, Michael," she continued, "You go and find her and I'll get started here."
"Yeah," Al said, taking a last, long look at Marcie, "Sure." He stalked out of the examining room, found Chloe having coffee in the lounge, and told her about the change in their assignments. He left as soon as he'd delivered his message, his frustration and his bitter disappointment becoming obvious.
"Well," Chloe said to herself, "Dr. Grouch seems to be back to his old self. I didn't think the near death experience would last."
Al locked himself in the first bathroom he could find. He tried to avoid looking in the mirror. Seeing Michael's reflection where he ought to be seeing his own always made him want to punch the mirror, and never more so than now.
He kicked the tiled wall several times. He'd been appalled when he'd seen who Luna and Melinda expected him to jump into. He'd seen Marcie's disastrous date with Michael. Not only had he been given a nearly impossible task to start with, but now he had to do it working against Marcie's well-deserved enmity as well.
He'd tried to make a good impression the night that she'd saved Michael's life – or was that his life? Al had thought that it was excruciating to be able to see Marcie but not be able to touch her, but it didn't compare to being so close, being able to touch her, and for her to lash out at him with contempt and indifference. He'd spent part of that night and his day off the next day planning how best to work on getting Marcie to like him. The flowers and the letter had seemed like a good idea. It had taken a long time to get the wording right.
After Al had dispatched both, he had gone through everything in Michael's room, his clothes, his books, his computer files and papers, trying to learn about him, trying to digest the memories and knowledge that seemed to have remained even when Michael's soul was no longer there. He'd decided to wait a week before seeing Marcie. It hadn't been an easy resolution to keep by any means, but the distraction of thirty-six hour shifts followed by the desperate need for sleep had helped.
And none of this had worked so far. Al banged his fists against the wall, trying to let out his frustration and to keep from crying. He'd wanted so badly to see the ultra-sound, to see their baby for the first time. To see Marcie's face when she saw it as well. Everything he wanted in the world was right in front of him, but he couldn't reach out and take hold of it. Al stopped banging the wall and took a series of deep breaths. There was nothing to do but get a grip and try again.
He waited out in the hall for the end of Marcie's appointment. When she emerged, pulling on her coat, he walked over towards her.
"Marcie?" he said tentatively. She looked up at him and smiled dazzlingly. Al blinked. He'd never seen Marcie look so happy.
"Yes, Michael?"
"I wanted to apologize again about before. You've got to believe me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"I know. I'm sorry I was so snappish."
"No problem. Speaking of apologies, did you get my letter?"
"Yes. The letter and the flowers. They were very nice."
"The letter or the flowers?"
"Both. How'd you know where to send them?"
"My brother, John McBain, came by to see me. I wanted to find out how to get in touch with you, and he said you worked at the station."
"Agent McBain is your brother? How interesting."
"Do you like roses? I wasn't sure what you'd like best, but roses are classic, so I figured I couldn't go wrong with them."
"They were very nice. They aren't my favorite, but they were really nice."
"What are your favorite flowers?"
"It really doesn't matter," Marcie said, buttoning her coat as though about to leave. Al searched desperately for a way to get her to stay.
"Is that the ultra-sound?" he said, noticing that Marcie was holding what looked like a small, cardboard folder. He was rewarded by seeing Marcie begin to practically bounce with delight.
"Dr. Benjamin made me a copy," she said opening the folder to display the black and white image. She held it out for Al to see. He took it, holding his breath.
There was their baby. The image was black and white, and grainy, and slightly blurry. Al didn't think he'd ever seen anything as beautiful. Except for Marcie, of course.
"You see the heart?" she said, indicating a certain spot with her pinkie.
"Yeah," Al said, dazed. He noticed that there were two copies of the picture. "Who's the other one for?" he asked.
"For Al's mother," Marcie said, holding out her hand for the folder. Al gave it back reluctantly.
"Does Mo…does Ms. Medina ever come with you to your appointments? I mean, do you have someone to come with you? It can't be much fun to be here by yourself."
"She usually comes with me," Marcie said, moving towards the elevator, "But she got the flu last week and she won't let me get within ten feet of her until she's over it."
"That's very smart of her; have you had your flu shot yet?" Al asked, following Marcie down the hall, "As an expectant mother you're in one of the high risk categories."
"I got it at the beginning of the month," Marcie replied.
"Good." Al watched her press the elevator button. "Say, Marcie," he said hoping he didn't sound quite as desperate as he felt, "If you won't be seeing her for another few days, maybe I could run the picture over tonight. I have a break in half an hour."
"That's really nice, Michael, but you don't need to go to the trouble."
"Please, Marcie. It wouldn't be any trouble. Anyway, I still need to finish thanking you for saving my life."
"There's no need for that, Michael."
"Please?" Marcie thought for a moment, then took a small notepad out of her purse, scribbled Gabrielle's address, and handed it over along with one of the ultra-sound pictures.
"Thanks," she said. The elevator still hadn't come. She pressed the button again.
"Marcie?" Al ventured, hoping that the elevator would take a few more minutes.
"Yeah?" she said, looking up at him.
"Do you accept my apology? The one in my letter?"
"Yeah," she said, looking down again, "I think you meant it."
"So could we start over and get to know each other? Get coffee or something?" Marcie appeared to hesitate, "I just want to show you that I really am an OK guy. Please?"
"All right," Marcie said. The elevator opened and Al grinned with relief.
"It's true what they say about pregnant women," he added, keeping his foot next to the elevator door to keep it from closing.
"What?" Marcie asked.
"You really are glowing," Al said, removing his foot and letting the door close.
