By Didi
Disclaimer: Though the show has been cancelled, (damn those executives) I still cannot claim them as mine. And anyone that even thinks so would be laughed out of the courts. Don't sue; I'm not making any money out of this.
Timeline: Let's just assume this is after the last aired episode. But assume that Nick Kokoris and Rae Brennan are not together. I could not stand the two on the show so I refuse to write anything where they are together. Don't worry; I won't ignore their history already established as the back-story from the show.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Yes, as it turns out, this will be Jules/Matt – centric.
Summary: What would you do in the name of love?
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Chapter Four~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Millicent Welles Slingerland, an elegantly coiffure haired woman in her early sixties though she would only admit to fifty, stared at her one and only son with a mixture of fondness and dismay. "Matthew! What have you done to your hair?"
Dr. Slingerland glanced up toward his forehead and ran a quick hand through the short locks to put some semblance of order to the mess that sat on his head. "Beg your pardon, Mother. I suppose I should have done something to clean up before coming, but it was a rather trying day."
"Really dearest," her mother sighed and reached out with a bejeweled hand to straightened the crooked tie that had been pulled loose an hour ago. "The least you could have done was put on a jacket."
"It's in the car, Mum," he replied cheerfully, not the least bit put out as he leaned down to kiss her perfumed cheek. "It's near eighty degrees and I did not want to offend your sensibilities by sweating like a pig."
"Gentlemen do not sweat. They perspire," she replied with sure knowledge. "Your father is on the phone," tilting her head toward the side.
Glancing over at the neat gray suit and the spanking new phone in his hand, Matt sighed with resignation as he gazed at his sire. "When is he not?"
"Now, Matthew…" she warned.
"All right, all right," he replied with a fond smile for the woman that gave him life. "I will behave."
"That's my boy," she said patting him on the cheek and wondering how her and her husband managed to produce such a maypole of a son. "How was your day?"
"Difficult. Too many patients and not enough time. Plus I have rather uncooperative colleague at the moment," though he couldn't not blame Dr. Keating for her stubborn refusal to approach her patients about the stem cells. But perseverance is virtue that Slingerland was in abundance of.
"If you had only gone into business as your father and I wanted you to…"
"I would have expired by now," Matt answered easily. It was an old topic that was forever being brought up. "You know I was never cut out for that cut throat world, Mother. And it will never come to that."
"You should have at least gone into private practice, Matthew. It would relieve so much more stress off of you. Your father and I would be more than willing to contribute to…"
"No, Mother. I'm happy where I am right now, where I'm doing the most good."
"But you just said…"
"Not every day is difficult and not every case is the same. I recently had a patient that just go herself a band new set of lungs from a fifteen year old boy who…" he stopped himself. His mother, bless her soul, was of a generation that did not accept certain social taboos well. "I just saw my patient yesterday, she's doing well and happy. Wants to name her child after me."
Millicent smiled. "That's nice."
Because he will never get his parents to appreciate what he did in life, no matter how noble the profession, Dr. Slingerland shrugged his shoulder and awaited his father's return from whatever business deal he was currently conducting. Watching George Slingerland, Matt was reminded of all the interrupted dinners, the missed lacrosse and polo games and the working vacations. Some things never change.
"Good evening, son." George greeted as he clicked his cell phone off and tucked it into his breast pocket, ever glad that the phones become smaller and more convenient every year. "Ready for dinner?"
"Head this way," Matt announced as he picked up his mother's bags. "My car is parked in the lot."
~~~~
Millicent waited until the maitre d' left the table before asked, "Will your lady friend be joining us?"
"I've been meaning to ask you about that, Mother." Matt said as he took a sip of the ice water on the table that the waitperson had been so kind to place there. "What lady friend are you talking about? As far as I know, there has been on one." Hell, there has been no one for a good long time now, much to his dismay.
Tasting the water glass, then making a rather unattractive face, Millicent raised her finger to catch the attention of a passing waiter. "Champagne," she ordered without another thought. "What horrid water you have here, Matthew."
Smiling sweetly, "Sorry, Mother. I forgot to inform the San Francisco Bay that you were coming and to clean up the fifty odd years of pollution that's contaminated the water in these parts."
George frowned at his son as he scanned the wine menu. "There's no need to be sarcastic, Matthew. Your mother was merely making a comment. I'll have the Chateau Bouteavu," handing the wine list to the waiter that had returned with Mrs. Slingerland's requested drink.
"Of course," Matt replied with a fond smile for his dear mother. "So tell me, Mum, what did you mean about my lady friend?"
Nibbling on the end of a piece of Italian bread, she smiled at the waiter that poured fine French champagne into a flute for her. "Why, the one that's carrying your child, of course."
The mouthful of ice water went down the wrong pipe, leaving Slingerland coughing and choking as he tried to simultaneously expel water and regain some air into his lungs. After several helpful thumps on the back by his father, while his mother twittered a bit about unhealthy conditions, Matt finally gathered enough oxygen to ask, "What in the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"Matthew," Millicent rebuked sharply. "Language."
Too startled to mind his mother's reprimand, "Mother, no one is carrying my child. I would hope that being a physician that I know all the precautions to take when it comes to…"
"Really dear," his mother bristled. "Hardly an appropriate topic for the dinner table."
"You brought it up first," Dr. Slingerland replied with a huff. His mother had an uncanny ability to make him feel like a three year old without so much as raising her voice.
"I mentioned your lady friend."
"No, you mentioned the woman that's having my… no, no, no," he shook his head and wondered how he managed to get himself into a corner like this. "You mentioned…. Oh forget it," mindful of the listening waiter who appeared more than a little interested in the conversation at hand.
"Matthew," Millicent said as the waiter walked away. "I must say that I was rather surprised when your father told me the news. If you wanted a family of your own, why didn't you tell me? I know plenty of very lovely young ladies that would simply adore to be your wife."
"Mother," exasperated. "I'm not in the mind of getting married or having a family. I don't have any… She's not expecting a child."
"Oh dear," obviously upset by the news. "Why didn't you tell us that she miscarried?"
"She didn't miscarry."
Appalled now, "She aborted the baby?"
"No!" sometimes talking to his mother and her annoying habit of jumping to conclusions could be more trying than diagnosing a difficult case. "She wasn't pregnant. Can you just allow me to explain what happened since Father seemed to have gone out of his way to make you believe something that isn't true?" glaring at his father.
"Matthew, is that any way to talk about your father?" Millicent reprimanded.
Feeling like a ten year old, "He started it."
"Matthew!"
Sighing, Dr. Slingerland again thanked his lucky stars that he lived an ocean and a continent away from his exasperating parents. "Mum, the woman in question," thinking it was better not to allow his deviously clever father to know Dr. Keating's name, "Had just gone through a rather bad cancer scare which left her with only 50% chance of conceiving a natural child of her own."
"Oh the poor dear. But why does that…"
"Let me finish, Mother." Matt warned.
"Oh all right."
"Thank you," glancing at his silent sire, who was watching with an amazing amount of boredom. "She needed to keep her options open and considering her youth and health, she decided to have a few of her eggs frozen. But to do so, the eggs have to be fertilized first. Which is where I came in."
"You made love to eggs?"
Matt couldn't help but laugh. "No. I donated sperms."
Millicent blushed at the term. "Well there's no need to be crude about it."
That bought a frown of confusion that was quickly shaken off. "And that's the story. She's not pregnant, it's just a back up plan."
George Slingerland chose that moment to enter the conversation. "And have you looked into the legal ramifications of your generous act?"
"Let's not start that again."
"I'm merely pointing out the fact that you may be under legal obligations to a child that you don't want if your 'friend' choice to go that route. You're not a pauper, Matthew."
"You don't even know the girl and already you're making the assumption that she's after money from me."
"Most women would not be above using the conception of a child to gain financial stability," George replied quite calmly for such an outrageous statement.
Millicent nodded her head, as she always does when her husband makes a statement. "I do hate to be harsh upon my own sex, dear, but your father is right. Women are quite ruthless when it's a matter of survival. And tell me darling; would you really turned away from your own flesh and blood? If that baby and its mother needed a roof over their head or meal on the table, would you say no?"
"Well then I suppose that since she makes a pretty good living as a doctor and has more dignity and interiority than most people I know, I'm completely in the safe. Besides which Jules wouldn't even think about…"
"Jewels? Is that her name?"
Matt silently cursed his wayward tongue. His mother was dangerously sharp when she wants to be. "It's Jules, short for Julia…. I believe." It was rather disconcerting that he didn't know for sure.
"You don't know the name of the mother of your child?" George asked, disappointment obvious on his face.
"She's not the mother of my child," Matt repeated with some impatience already tainting his tone. "She's not the mother of any child. She's not a mother, period."
"Well there's no need to become testy about not having a child, Matthew."
"Mother…" but his pager going off saved him another evitable scolding when he lost his cool. Simultaneously, two other pages went off in the restaurant. Curious, Matt looked up to see what might have accidentally set off the pagers just in time to see Dr. Keating and Dr. Lenning get up from their table and gathered their things. Glancing down, "It's a 911 from the hospital."
"Now?" George asked a little exasperated.
"Pardon me if emergencies cannot be schedule around your date book, Father," Matt said, pulling out several bills and dropping them on the table. "I'll try to get back if I can but it's doubtful since they don't generally page us in unless it's something big. Take a cab to the hotel and I'll see you tomorrow." He leaned over and kissed his mother's cheek, "Goodnight, Mother."
"Oh darling, I'm so disappointed."
"As am I, Mum. As am I," lying though his teeth. "We'll see about getting together tomorrow if at all possible. I'll call around…"
"Dr. Slingerland?" Harriet Lenning called as she and Jules approached.
Jules gave him a smile, seemingly more relax now then she had been that afternoon. "They call you in too?"
"Afraid so," Matt replied grabbing his jacket. "I have my car around back, need a lift?"
"That would be lovely," Harriet replied with a nod to Slingerland's party. "We were just about to offer to share a cab with Dr. Slingerland." She held her hand out to the elegantly dressed woman first. "I'm Harriet Lenning."
Millicent took the woman's
hand. "I was so hoping Matthew would
remember his manners before this was necessary."
While Dr. Slingerland winced
at being called to carpet by his mother, Dr. Keating laughed. "Yeah, Matt. Mind your manners."
"Thanks for the moral support, luv." He muttered dryly and then realized, to his everlasting horror that he has to introduce Jules to his parents. Sharp cookies that his parents are, they will no doubt make the connection quickly. If only he had left the table two minutes earlier.
"Don't let him sass you dear," Millicent advised Dr. Keating with a pat on her hand. "And you are?"
"Julia Keating."
Millicent's eyes went wide. "Julia, did you say?"
A small frown formed on Jules's forehead as she looked to Matt for some explanation on his mother's sudden intense scrutiny. "Yes. But everyone calls me…"
"Oh look at the time," Matt interrupted loudly and tugged on Jules's arm quickly. "We had best be off. The hospital no doubt needs us as soon as possible."
Sensing the distress from Matt, Dr. Keating nodded her head and motioned for Harriet to precede her. "He's right. We better be off. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Slingerland. Have a nice visit."
Harriet smiled her goodbyes and allowed Jules to pull her toward the front interest. Once she was sure they were out of hearing, "What was that about?"
Jules shook her head and shrugged, "I have no clue."
Matt held up a hand at the open mouth of both his parents. "Don't." Then took off before either of the elder Slingerlands could utter another word.
George stared after the pixie-faced woman that Matt was all but dragging out of the restaurant. "Do you think that…."
"With the way Matthew acting," Millicent smiled into her glass. "Of course she is. A very charming young thing."
"A doctor too."
"How lovely."
~~~~
The door to the doctor's lounge opened for a moment to allow the sound of the hustle and bustle of the hallways, as well as a very exhausted surgeon, in for a second before it closed and shut out the rapid paced excitement out again. With a sigh and not bothering to remove his soiled surgical gown, Dr. Kokoris dropped into a seat and shut his eyes.
Taking much pity on him, Jules got up and poured a large mug of hot coffee of Norman's special dark blend. "Nick, you want sugar or cream in your coffee?"
"Right now, I'd take motor oil," he muttered tiredly. "Black, thanks."
Slipping the steaming cup carefully into his slack hand, she stared at his tired face for a moment. She felt bad, really bad that he was obviously hurting. And though she really didn't want to ask, her heart won over her better judgment. "Did…"
"No," he answered curtly, ending the subject abruptly.
She nodded her had and sat down on the chair next to his.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, opening his eyes to watch her for a moment. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm merely upset."
Nodding her head in acceptance, she looked at him grimly. "How many have you done?"
"Six," he replied, reliving the last four hours of his life. Due to lack of doctors, he had been yanked from one operation to another, along with the six other surgeons that had been called in. "Only four made it out with a pulse." He sighed, remembering watching the various doctors having to talk to the parent of the dozen children that never made it out of surgery. He was infinitely glad that he was a surgeon. "What about you?"
She closed her eyes. "I had eight preemies and only six filled beds in NICU."
Silence followed that piece of news. "Have they arrested the driver?" Nick wanted to know.
"No. Last I heard, he was still in surgery. Tom is doing him." She gashed her teeth in impotent anger. How charming was the story for the news at eleven: drunk driver crashes into school bus filled with students returning from an away game. Bus overturns and slides into a community center were the weekly Lamaze class was taking place. Ten of the eighteen pregnant women there had gone into premature labor. "Tom is not a happy man."
"I wouldn't be either," he replied with a soft chuckle then groaned as he tried to sip from the mug of hot coffee. All the muscles across his back were in serious need of rearranging.
"Hurting?" she asked, glancing at the clock. She's been here for more than five hours now and she's still got two patients currently in labor.
"Only when I breathe."
For some reason, she found that extremely funny. And because he looked so hurt, "Sorry. I guess I really needed to laugh there for a moment."
He frowned at her. "Glad to know that I can bring you entertainment with my pain."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she repeated as she got up and ran her hand along his shoulders, messaging some of the tension there away. "There, is that better?"
He lowered his chin to allow better access to the strained muscles on his back. He made a mental note to have the surgical tables raised for the next round. In the mean time, his mind was otherwise more pleasantly occupied. "A little lower… there, right there. Oh… that's good. A little harder."
"Do I even want to know?" Letty asked with an evil grin a she slide into the lounge, exhaustion evident on her face. "Cause if the two of you want to be alone…"
"Knock it off," Jules replied good-naturedly as she continued to rub the lean firm muscles into submission. "He's exhausted."
A frown appeared over Dr. Jordan's brows as she took in the exhaustion and wrinkled clothes on the surgeon. Her mind went to immediately to her husband, wondering if he was doing any better. "I heard. That last girl, how did she come out?"
Nick opened one eye, "She didn't."
Something painful passed over Letty's face as she tried to block out the girl's face in her mind. She was no older than her own daughter. The girl has crashed into the window of the bus when the vehicle turned over. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Nick sighed and leaned back into Jules's arms, resting his head against her stomach as he looked up at her. "How many more do you have tonight?"
"Two more if I'm really lucky, and we're monitoring the other eight. We managed to stop labor on three," she replied with a grime smile just as the door to the lounge opened.
Dr. Slingerland and Dr. Brennan came to an abrupt halt at the door, both a little uncertain was to what was happening. Conscious of her friend's feelings, Jules extracted her hands from Dr. Kokoris's shoulders and stepped back but the uncomfortable silence lingered. Nick frowned knowing that every action and reaction toward him was going to be guided by Rae now; it was not a happy though even if his heart still cried for her.
Matt, not wanting to appear affected by what he had seen, cleared his throat and headed for the much-desired coffee. The churning feeling in the pit of his stomach must be from the dozen patients he's had to deal with so far with pretty extensive injuries… and he missed dinner too. Yeah, that must be it. "Dr. Keating, Dr. Lenning wanted me to inform you that you will be needed shortly for…" her pager went off like clock work. "Let me rephrase that: you are needed now."
There was a brief struggle with the clip on the pager before Nick reached over and slipped it out for her. Jules smiled her thanks then glanced down at the lit screen, "Oh shit!" then Dr. Keating was running for the door.
"Good luck," Nick called out to her before taking a sip of the bitterly strong coffee she had been so good as to pour for him earlier. Sweet little Jules Keating was a very good person… And if heart and mind would simply cooperate with his logical side, she would be a very good companion.
Jules paused at the door, her mind turning for a second. Her conscious prinked at her dangerously. "Nick, Matt?" she bit her lip and then threw up her hands. "I'll get you your stem cells… somehow," then with a roll of her eyes, she was gone.
Startled, neither one knew what to say for a moment.
Matt turned to Kokoris, "What did you say to her?"
Nick raised a brow at him. "Nothing."
That didn't convince the internist. "Then what changed her mind?"
Letty rolled her eyes. "Possibly tonight's victims?"
"Oh yeah," for such a smart guy, Slingerland was surprisingly slow at times.
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TBC…