When Cas goes into work, resignation letter in hand, he paces outside the office. Last night had been inspiring outside of the hurt. Cas had decided what he wants to do, and he knows administration, surrounded by a family quick to tell him he isn't measuring up isn't it. But here, now, outside the office, the letter clutched in his hands, that life-changing thought seems so much more, well, life-changing. Frightening, really. He's spent so long following his family's orders, allowing himself to be directed on a path that he's had no say in, that to start again, with no direction, is looking increasingly impossible.
No, Cas can do this. He has to do this. For himself. With that thought firmly in mind, Cas strides into the offices, going straight to Zachariah's desk.
"You're late." Zachariah says, not looking up from the paper he's signing off on.
"I'm resigning." Cas gets out, voice stronger than he thought it would be.
At that Zachariah looks up, looks into Cas' eyes. Cas tries to stay strong, resolved, under the on slot of terror that comes from seemingly nowhere (but is rooted in childhood events that Cas can scarcely recall). Zachariah holds his gaze for a moment longer before giving a snort, dismissive, mocking, and turns back to his work, "go do your job, Castiel."
Cas feels his legs want to move; he wants to move, get out from under this self-endued conflict, but he can't. He can't give up on himself that easily. Every time in the past he had, and look where that's gotten him. So Cas thrusts the letter forward, resignation written neatly atop it, though the envelop itself is crinkled at the corners from his fidgeting.
Zachariah looks up again, this time more annoyed than anything, "Castiel, I don't have time for this. I have work to do, as do you. It is important and it helps people." Cas twitches, hoping Zachariah won't notice, he thinks that's the reason he's stayed with it so long, regardless of his distaste for it. It's like he said to Dean, his job helps people; he cannot just forsake them for the gains of himself. It's just not right. It goes against everything he's been taught—the individual means nothing in the face of the whole—but he can't help thinking that he has worth (a traitorous thought that has him flushing in shame).
And maybe he is wrong; maybe Zachariah's been right this entire time. But Cas needs to find that out for himself. He can't keep relying on the opinions of others. If he had, it would have kept him from his brief (very brief) time with Dean, and though it ended poorly, hurtfully, Cas thinks he's better for it. What else has he been missing by wordlessly following the convictions of others?
"I would like to resign. I will stay on to train my replacement, but I would like to resign." this time his voice is shakier, his throat feels blocked and his hands are sweaty, but his conviction is still there.
"Castiel, look," Zachariah sighs, as if addressing and unruly child rather than a fully grown man, "I've been remiss, you've been stressed. You have some vacation saved up, take a few days and you'll get over whatever crazy phase this is. And when that happens you'll thank me for not letting you ruin your future."
Cas shakes his head, "I would like to resign. I'm not going to change my mind."
Zachariah gives Castiel a look that clearly states what he thinks of that, "you have two weeks."
The dismissal is obvious, and even though Castiel wants to continue his case, he finds his legs carrying him out of Zachariah's office. Cas takes a seat in one of the extraneous chairs kept outside Zachariah's office for no discernable reason before his legs stop holding him. He's not sure if he's 'won' that round, as it goes. He doesn't think so. Zachariah still views him as incompetent in directing his own life, and he still has this job to fall back on, something that terrifies him. Cas does not want to have this option open, he does not want to give himself the temptation of falling back into his old habits.
One of the interns, a cheery girl named Becky Rosen who doesn't belong in such an dismal environment in Cas' opinion, comes over to him, "Hey Mr. Novak, are you okay?" she places a kind hand on his shoulder.
Cas thinks of what a spectacle he must be making of himself and clears his throat, going to stand, "yes Ms. Rosen, thank you, I was just feeling a bit light headed."
"Do you want me to call a nurse?" she asks, concerned, "I'm sure someone would run up in a jiff!"
"That's quite alright, Ms. Rosen," Cas is quick to assure, he doesn't know why, but the nurses have a tendency to be a bit overzealous whenever Cas has the slightest of maladies, "I'm perfectly fine now, I'll just be going to my office."
Becky gives him one more look before apparently concluding that he's passed muster and allows him passage. Before he's gotten through his doorway, Becky calls to him, "I'm going to go get coffee from that place you like, do you want me to pick anything up?"
"No, no, no thank you, I'm fine."
Becky gives him one more lingering look for his answer, but turns away with a smile. Cas shuts his office door with more relief than is warranted. He looks around the mostly barren space. His goal is to clear out his personal belongings and leave, but as he looks, there's really nothing of his to take.
There's the office computer, the file cabinet in the corner along with the fake plant that HR said would make the place more welcoming whenever he has client meetings (a rare occurrence indeed). He doesn't have any pictures on his desk, no nick-knacks, just a large calendar, pens, pencils and paperclips in their separate containers, and a large stack of files in his 'in-box'.
Cas doesn't really know what he was expecting, but this, this nothingness that constitutes his life, hits him harder than he'd thought it would. He really has nothing to his name, nothing but a job he doesn't care for and a family who doesn't seem to care for him.
Cas goes to the window, looks down at the world below him, people hurrying to their engagements and wonders how many of them truly like what they do. Is he alone in feeling lost and displaced? Is he the only one whose life has been based off things that really mean nothing? Cas sighs, he's getting maudlin. He turns from the window and looks at his desk once more before walking out. There's nothing left here for him.
Cas takes the long way out of the hospital, going through wards and patient areas. He walks through the children's wand and the infant wing. He walks down the trauma ward and wishes them well in his head. Nurses run around him, going about their almost endless work. Some stop to say hi, ask why he's here, if he needs anything. Cas is quick to assure them that he is fine.
Dr. Harris comes out of an observation ward looking tired and almost runs into him. Dr. Harris is one of St. Claire's best surgeons; it's the family portion that takes the most out of her, especially if someone doesn't make it.
"Sorry Castiel, I guess I'm a little out of it."
"Perfectly fine."
"It's just, well, there was this car crash last night and the surgery was terrible. Our guy flat-lined twice on the table and once in transit. It's been a hell of a mess. Not including the broken humerus and blood loss, we're still waiting to see if there's a concussion and—and you don't want to be hearing about this." Dr. Harris cuts herself off, self-depreciating. Doctors have a tendency, Cas has noticed, towards forgetting what other deem acceptable conversation topics, and how those usually don't include the innards of another.
"It's okay, I don't mind. I'm just on my way out."
"Oh, taking a vacation?" Dr. Harris smiles, "I don't think that's happened since I started my tenure here."
Cas shakes his head, "I'm resigning."
Dr. Harris' face falls as if ready to start condolences but something in Cas' expression must stop her.
"Well good." she finally settles on, "you've never looked very happy with all that paperwork."
"But someone has to do it," Cas defends unthinkingly. Has it been that obvious to everyone, that he's been unhappy?
"Yeah, sure," Dr. Harris agrees, nodding, "But that doesn't mean it's got to be you. You've paid your dues here Castiel, lived up to the family legacy. Go find something you enjoy, meet someone who makes you happy."
Cas' face must be more expressive than he's thought because Dr. Harris immediately changes her tune.
"Okay, you and me are going to go grab some—" she glances at her watch "—breakfast-lunch thing and you are going to tell Nonni all about it."
"We don't have any relation." Cas blinks, but allows himself to be lead along through the twisting corridors to the cafeteria.
"Doesn't change the fact that I am going to be your spiritual guide," she pulls Cas in line with her, grabbing a salad and watching Cas do the same. They pay for their meals—salad, fruit, water and baked good—and make their way to an empty table.
"I don't know," Cas hesitates, Dr. Harris is a good person, and he's known her since she came to work at St. Claire five years ago, but they've never been close. Cas has never been close to anyone at the hospital.
"Please Castiel? I need something to get my mind off internal organs and car frame shrapnel. I swear I won't tell."
Cas nods, reluctant but willing, "I thought I was" Cas makes a gesture that could mean anything as his cheeks heat, "you know, with someone." He clears his throat, "but after we—well, I kissed him and—" Cas cuts himself off, he just said 'him'. Dr. Harris knows. He looks at her, eyes wide, but she does nothing, just nods at him to continue his tale. It's instantly settling and Cas is suddenly so very grateful to the doctor.
"And apparently he wasn't ready or something." Cas makes an aborted shrug, Dr. Harris puts her hand on Cas' squeezing it lightly and the floodgates open, "he was avoiding me and I knew it but I just couldn't let it go, I couldn't understand that he was rejecting me by just—hoping I'd go away? And then I went to his place of work again—he hadn't been working his normal shift and I always go to that coffee shop, so I didn't think he'd be there—but then he was and I exited the shop and vowed I wouldn't go again, I-I'd take a hint.
"But then he followed me out and he told me that he was wrong. That what he'd done was stupid and—and I think someone told him loving another man was wrong and that's why, but I'm not positive, he just kept telling me that he was sorry and I wanted to believe him so badly because I was very happy when we were together and then we..." Cas' cheeks turned red and he looked shyly at Dr. Harris who looked nothing but kind and nonjudgmental, "we kissed. Then I had to go to work and he needed to do his job so we parted ways but we made plans to meet that evening and he—he didn't come."
The confession was a double edged sword, Cas feels lighter sharing his secret, but it also drudges up his feelings from that moment and makes his throat feel tight. It hurts in a different way from renouncing what he thought was his familial duty, but it still hurts.
"Oh Honey, I'm so sorry to hear that," Dr. Harris squeezes his hand again and brings the other up to rub Cas' shoulder, much like Becky had done earlier, "He sounds like a guy who's certainly going to be regretting his life choices soon—you are a catch."
Cas gives a little laugh and smile, even if he doesn't really believe the words, they do make him feel a bit better.
"Really Honey," Dr. Harris gives him a look, one Cas associates with him missing something obvious, "We're going to go out on the town, Castiel, and you'll forget this ass because so many other guys will be throwing themselves at you. I'll probably get jealous."
Cas shifts in his seat. That's something he's never done before, would never be entertaining the idea of it weren't for his new view towards his own life, and although he knows he wants to, he don't know that he can handle it right now.
"Can we, um, sometime next week?" Cas hedges, "I want to look for a new job—find out what I want to do—before I try and meet someone."
Dr. Harris smiles indulgently, "Sure Castiel, how about next Friday?"
Cas smiles and nods. Even though his immediate future is intimidating and unsure, he has a plan, even just for one night, and it calms him more than he'd thought.
Dr. Harris' beeper goes off, "Sorry to cut this short Castiel, but I've got a patient to deal with—here, give me your number and we can hash out the details later."
Cas does and Dr. Harris runs off to deal with patient. He pokes at his meal before deciding to just go home. He's spent so much time at the hospital since he's started working here, it'd be nice to eat a slow meal in the comfort of his place. And while he's doing it, he can do some soul searching without having hospital staff looking at him as though their ready to be a bit too helpful.