Title: The one and the only.
Author: Elisa (elisasan@libero.it)
Archive: just tell me where!
Ratings: PG
Spoiler: Season 7 through " The visit "
Summary: A short post-scene to " The Visit ". Dave does a lot of thinking. Be aware of angst!
Disclaimer: I own nada. I have no money so suing is useless.
Author's note: Just a few things you'd better keep in mind while reading this: English isn't my first language (I hope there aren't too many grammar and spelling error!) I don't live in the U.S. so I haven't seen season 7 yet. I'm sorry if there are any inaccuracies or out-of-characters things. This is my first try at Dave's angst and I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. Well. now it's up to you to judge it! I live for feedback! Thanks and enjoy! I found this in my hardware. I wrote it almost two years ago but I though it wasn't bad so I decided to publish it anyway.
**************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************
When the door of his poky apartment slammed shut behind his back Dave had already collapsed onto the shabby couch in the middle of the small living room.
He reached automatically for the remote control. The news anchor announced dramatically the latest updates on yet another school shooting. Dave wasn't paying attention, though. He always switched on the TV when he got home but he hardly watched it. The TV chattering was the constant soundtrack of his own thoughts and he doubted that he was still able to think straight when it was switched off. The truth was he hated being alone and having the TV on helped him to feel less lonely. It felt like there was someone else in the apartment and he liked his own silly make-believe game.
With one hand Dave grabbed a bottle of beer. He always kept some next to the couch because most of the times he couldn't be bothered to get up and take one from the fridge. And given the fact that the central heating had broken down more than two weeks ago and he couldn't afford to have it repaired until his next payday the temperature in the room wasn't actually much different than the inside of a fridge. He tried to open the bottle with his teeth; he always did so because that's the way tough guys open their beer and then he couldn't be bothered to get up and take a bottle- opener either. This time, instead, his facial muscles rebelled and he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. Benton could be a gentle-handed surgeon, but he really had a good hook too, Dave thought as he rubbed his sore jaw.
Despite the pain he was still feeling, he find himself chuckling while he thought back to their fight. Oh man, it must have been quite a scene to look at. Weaver and Greene hadn't liked it much, though. But it hadn't been him the one who started it all. Not that it really mattered because he knew he deserved to be blamed for it all. He had deserved to be hit by Benton.
Dave, today you screwed up royally. And you got just what you deserve, again. It was just so simple, so straightforward: you act and then you're supposed to know that the consequences of your own actions will fall back on you. Not a hard concept to understand. Then why he couldn't learn the lesson for once? He never seemed to get it.
What the hell had he thought? That Benton would have let him insult his dying nephew like that? He would have probably reacted the same way if he had been in Benton's shoes. On the other hand he didn't know that that human wreck was Benton's nephew. But that wasn't the point. The only problem here was him, Dr. Dave, the one and the only. The act-first-and-think-later guy. Sometimes words slipped out of his mouth so quickly that he didn't have time to realize what he was saying, and when he did it was too late.
An entire medical education in one convenient package.
Way to go, Dave! Maybe he had lost the filter between his brain and his mouth. Or maybe he had never had one. It must have been some kind of manufacturing fault. Probably God wasn't paying much attention the day he created him.
Thanks God for bangers.
That had been the icing on the cake.
But he wasn't insensitive. He cared for patients. Sarcasm was just his way of dealing with all the pain and tragedy he encountered daily in the ER. He could admit it wasn't very mature but it was the way he knew best. Joking was a method to keep his distance from patients, to make their sufferance look less real. It was a good method and as long as it worked Dave didn't care what people thought of him.
Maybe he and Benton weren't so different after all. He was sure that Benton's always-professional yet detached attitude was nothing but a self- defense system, too.
Dave smiled bitterly, thinking that Benton didn't want to have anything in common with him. He would rather die. Dave could tell by the look that the surgeon had given him just a moment before throwing the first punch. He had never seen a more disgusted look and it had made him feel so cheap. Completely unworthy. But the thing that made him feel worse was the fact that very likely the rest of the staff at County thought the same.
None of us think you're much of a doctor.
Dave shivered as Corday's voice echoed in his head. It had happened long ago, but these words were firmly impressed on his mind. Yeah, Corday had made her point very clear. Dave couldn't remember exactly what it had been all about, but he had messed up again and Corday had chewed him out. That time she had really lost it on him.
But then who gives a damn? Malucci would laugh it off. Didn't he always? And maybe they were right. He wasn't much of a doctor. If they kept telling him a bit longer he would start to believe it himself.
The eerie sound of a dish crashing on a wall shook him out his dark thoughts. His neighbors were having their usual 10 p.m. argument. As the volume of the screams increased rapidly Dave sighed. Now he could barely hear himself thinking. This wasn't so bad, after all; he didn't like to sink into self-pity.
With a great effort he got up from the couch, the beer still in his hand. Making his way to the tiny kitchen, Dave tripped over a bunch of medical texts dropped onto the floor. He swore softly and then kicked them angrily. His apartment was a mess, just like his life. Dave got in the kitchen and grabbed the bottle-opener. He avidly drank the beer and slowly returned to the couch.
He took the bottle-opener with him, because that night he would need it again for sure.
Fine
Author: Elisa (elisasan@libero.it)
Archive: just tell me where!
Ratings: PG
Spoiler: Season 7 through " The visit "
Summary: A short post-scene to " The Visit ". Dave does a lot of thinking. Be aware of angst!
Disclaimer: I own nada. I have no money so suing is useless.
Author's note: Just a few things you'd better keep in mind while reading this: English isn't my first language (I hope there aren't too many grammar and spelling error!) I don't live in the U.S. so I haven't seen season 7 yet. I'm sorry if there are any inaccuracies or out-of-characters things. This is my first try at Dave's angst and I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. Well. now it's up to you to judge it! I live for feedback! Thanks and enjoy! I found this in my hardware. I wrote it almost two years ago but I though it wasn't bad so I decided to publish it anyway.
**************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************
When the door of his poky apartment slammed shut behind his back Dave had already collapsed onto the shabby couch in the middle of the small living room.
He reached automatically for the remote control. The news anchor announced dramatically the latest updates on yet another school shooting. Dave wasn't paying attention, though. He always switched on the TV when he got home but he hardly watched it. The TV chattering was the constant soundtrack of his own thoughts and he doubted that he was still able to think straight when it was switched off. The truth was he hated being alone and having the TV on helped him to feel less lonely. It felt like there was someone else in the apartment and he liked his own silly make-believe game.
With one hand Dave grabbed a bottle of beer. He always kept some next to the couch because most of the times he couldn't be bothered to get up and take one from the fridge. And given the fact that the central heating had broken down more than two weeks ago and he couldn't afford to have it repaired until his next payday the temperature in the room wasn't actually much different than the inside of a fridge. He tried to open the bottle with his teeth; he always did so because that's the way tough guys open their beer and then he couldn't be bothered to get up and take a bottle- opener either. This time, instead, his facial muscles rebelled and he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. Benton could be a gentle-handed surgeon, but he really had a good hook too, Dave thought as he rubbed his sore jaw.
Despite the pain he was still feeling, he find himself chuckling while he thought back to their fight. Oh man, it must have been quite a scene to look at. Weaver and Greene hadn't liked it much, though. But it hadn't been him the one who started it all. Not that it really mattered because he knew he deserved to be blamed for it all. He had deserved to be hit by Benton.
Dave, today you screwed up royally. And you got just what you deserve, again. It was just so simple, so straightforward: you act and then you're supposed to know that the consequences of your own actions will fall back on you. Not a hard concept to understand. Then why he couldn't learn the lesson for once? He never seemed to get it.
What the hell had he thought? That Benton would have let him insult his dying nephew like that? He would have probably reacted the same way if he had been in Benton's shoes. On the other hand he didn't know that that human wreck was Benton's nephew. But that wasn't the point. The only problem here was him, Dr. Dave, the one and the only. The act-first-and-think-later guy. Sometimes words slipped out of his mouth so quickly that he didn't have time to realize what he was saying, and when he did it was too late.
An entire medical education in one convenient package.
Way to go, Dave! Maybe he had lost the filter between his brain and his mouth. Or maybe he had never had one. It must have been some kind of manufacturing fault. Probably God wasn't paying much attention the day he created him.
Thanks God for bangers.
That had been the icing on the cake.
But he wasn't insensitive. He cared for patients. Sarcasm was just his way of dealing with all the pain and tragedy he encountered daily in the ER. He could admit it wasn't very mature but it was the way he knew best. Joking was a method to keep his distance from patients, to make their sufferance look less real. It was a good method and as long as it worked Dave didn't care what people thought of him.
Maybe he and Benton weren't so different after all. He was sure that Benton's always-professional yet detached attitude was nothing but a self- defense system, too.
Dave smiled bitterly, thinking that Benton didn't want to have anything in common with him. He would rather die. Dave could tell by the look that the surgeon had given him just a moment before throwing the first punch. He had never seen a more disgusted look and it had made him feel so cheap. Completely unworthy. But the thing that made him feel worse was the fact that very likely the rest of the staff at County thought the same.
None of us think you're much of a doctor.
Dave shivered as Corday's voice echoed in his head. It had happened long ago, but these words were firmly impressed on his mind. Yeah, Corday had made her point very clear. Dave couldn't remember exactly what it had been all about, but he had messed up again and Corday had chewed him out. That time she had really lost it on him.
But then who gives a damn? Malucci would laugh it off. Didn't he always? And maybe they were right. He wasn't much of a doctor. If they kept telling him a bit longer he would start to believe it himself.
The eerie sound of a dish crashing on a wall shook him out his dark thoughts. His neighbors were having their usual 10 p.m. argument. As the volume of the screams increased rapidly Dave sighed. Now he could barely hear himself thinking. This wasn't so bad, after all; he didn't like to sink into self-pity.
With a great effort he got up from the couch, the beer still in his hand. Making his way to the tiny kitchen, Dave tripped over a bunch of medical texts dropped onto the floor. He swore softly and then kicked them angrily. His apartment was a mess, just like his life. Dave got in the kitchen and grabbed the bottle-opener. He avidly drank the beer and slowly returned to the couch.
He took the bottle-opener with him, because that night he would need it again for sure.
Fine