As he waited for his 7:00 appointment to arrive, Dr. Dubenko caught himself moving the same pile of papers on his desk for the third time. He inferred that he was nervous, a fact which mildly irritated him. He didn't have anything to be nervous about.
On the contrary, the person with whom he had the appointment, and who was now ten minutes late, ought to be a bit nervous, but probably wasn't. This hypothesis was confirmed when Edward Dorsett came into the inner office, knocking as he entered, an easygoing smile on his face and a glib greeting on his lips.
When Dubenko arrived at County, Dorsett had been his first work-friend, mostly because they shared the honor of being hated by their boss, Dr. Corday. It wasn't long, however, before Dubenko learned that Corday actually had quite good reason for detesting Eddie, and, in any case, found that he had little in common with the man. Still, they got along pretty well, despite the fact that Dorsett tended to regard him with the air of a cool kid who deigns to hang out with the class nerd. Dorsett didn't have the scientific appreciation necessary to be a truly innovative surgeon. But he was game to try new things, and thus, was among the easiest members of the department for Dubenko to prod along into using cutting edge techniques.
Not having much use for social niceties, Dubenko cut right to the chase, "Dr. Lotz has filed a sexual harassment complaint against you."
Dorsett looked pissed, but not surprised. The ugly unraveling of his affair with his resident was hardly a secret, and she had pretty much publicly announced her intention to make him pay in any way she could.
"Harassment my ass," Dorsett grumbled, "She was plenty willing! I didn't hear any complaints out of her until she found out about that oncology nurse. Do you know the bitch actually called my wife?"
Eddie went on to describe his wife's vituperative reaction and speculate about various men with whom she might be sleeping, all in far more sordid detail than Dubenko wanted. Honestly, although he liked thinking about ethics at an abstract level – drafting carefully worded policies, evaluating behaviors without the behavers present – up close and personal he found it messy and distasteful. People made stupid decisions, then spewed emotional detritus all over everything and everyone in the aftermath. He mentally escaped from listening to Dorsett's diatribe by imagining fractal patterns in the blood spray from a pair of severed arteries.
Unfortunately, with Anspaugh on vacation, it was his job to deal with the situation, at least temporarily. He pulled himself back into the present and waited uncomfortably for Dorsett to pause for breath. Then he broke in with a curt, "Your wife isn't my problem."
Eddie's eyebrows shot up.
'Did he expect me to be his buddy about this?' Dubenko mused. He wasn't bothered by the fact that the younger man didn't take him seriously as an authority figure. People rarely did, without a program of consistent reinforcement. For the most part, he was content to assert himself enough to make his colleagues attend to his medical and surgical views. When and if he became Chief of Surgery permanently, then he would work on the rest.
Dubenko explained evenly, "Look, you know there'll be an internal investigation, and Legal will get involved if it goes that far. Right now, I'm doing damage control. Obviously, you can't supervise her any more."
"Fine, I'll switch residents with Edson."
"Dale doesn't want to switch."
"Well, I'm not taking Wu. Or Brander. Have you seen the size of the mole on her . . ."
"I'll take over with Lotz now," Dubenko informed the other man, "I'll give you one of my new interns after the match."
Dorsett's face fell. From the point of view of many attendings, having advanced residents meant less work, but having interns meant the opposite.
Dubenko headed off any complaints with, "The residents got shuffled around mid-year when Corday left. As much as possible, I want to keep them with their current supervisors." Knowing that he was in the minority in that he gave educational needs priority when making staff assignments, he added as consolation, "You can have Scanlon if he matches here. He's pretty good, knows his way around already."
Dubenko would have preferred to keep Jake Scanlon on, himself. Jake was a likable young man and it was nice to see students progress into doctors through their intern year. But Scanlon had gained a strong grounding in the basics of surgery during his rotation; moving on to work with Dorsett might be good for him. Plus he was male. 'No way am I giving Eddie anyone with a pair of X chromosomes . . .'
He suppressed a smirk at this last thought, then looked over at his colleague, who was smirking openly. Dorsett said, "Yeah, I can see how it might be a good idea for you to put some distance between yourself and Scanlon."
Dubenko turned the other doctor's words around in his mind, trying to find an angle from which they made sense. He came up empty. Before he could request clarification, Dorsett explained as if stating the obvious, "You know, on account of you've been hitting on his girlfriend."
While Dubenko chewed on this information, Eddie let out a short laugh, "Jeezus, you didn't know? Jake. Abby. They're not exactly out in the open about it, but the gossip mill's been kicking up stuff about them for weeks." Grinning smugly, he added, "Trust me, Len, if you want to nail this girl, you've gotta keep track of who else she's screwing."
Dubenko was not one to lose his temper easily. In fact, some past acquaintances had joked that he didn't even have a temper to lose. But he suddenly felt a lot of anger toward Dorsett and wasn't sure how to deal with it. It bugged him unreasonably to hear the other man refer to Abby in such a crude way, and he hated the implication that his own behavior was anything like Dorsett's. He stammered, "I -- I'm not trying to . . ."
"The hell you're not," Dorsett shot back, "You go down to the ER for consults whenever you can, you switched with me for that stupid Santa thing, and, rumor has it, you roped Lockhart into going out with you under the guise of writing a paper."
Mortification overwhelmed the anger that Dubenko was still trying to process. People were talking about him, making his actions seem sleazy and inappropriate. And Abby was mixed up in the whole mess. And Abby had a boyfriend. And he felt like such an idiot. Self-accusations darted around in his mind too quickly for him to catch and analyze . . .
Dorsett must have read the distress on his companion's face, because he softened his tone. "It's OK. Don't freak. Hey, I'm good at this stuff, and look where it's gotten me. You kind of suck at it, which, you know, isn't necessarily a bad thing. I just don't want to see you get in over your head." Rising, he patted the older surgeon on the arm, "I need to go. I have another, uh, engagement. Don't worry; I know the drill. I'll stay away from Lotz and I'll bring you her file in the morning."
Lost in thought, Dubenko was only vaguely aware of his colleague leaving.
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A few days later . . .
Abby and Sam stood in Trauma 1, which was quiet in the wake of their latest patient. The patient was bleeding in too many places to be saved, but he was a good teaching case. Dubenko and his new resident came down for the consult, ran a few procedures, and pronounced the poor guy dead. Abby was left to complete the chart as Sam cleaned up some empty equipment trays.
Unexpectedly, Dr. Dubenko ducked back into the trauma room and asked Abby, "Can I talk to you a minute?"
Sam shot Abby a little grin as she left the room. Abby knew that the nurse found "Dr. Hair" amusing. 'Yeah, sure, the weirdos are always funny when it's somebody else they're fixated on.'
"OK," Abby answered neutrally. Dubenko hadn't been too much of a pain in the recent trauma. Most of his questions were directed at Dr. Lotz, though Abby kept getting the creepy feeling that he was watching her when she wasn't looking.
Right now, however, he wasn't watching her at all. He studied the exam table as he spoke: "It's come to my attention that, uh, some of my actions with regard to you might, uh, be interpreted in a way that, well, they may have impacted negatively on you . . . What I mean is, given your professional situation, they might have made you uncomfortable . . ."
'Kinda feeling uncomfortable right now,' Abby thought, but she didn't want to prolong the agony of the conversation so she waved him off with "Don't worry about it" as she tried to head past him out the door.
Dubenko moved in front of her, saying, "Wait . . . please . . ."
He wasn't exactly blocking her path, but getting around him would require Abby to compromise her personal space. 'Somebody ought to explain to him that trapping someone in a trauma room is not the best way to make amends.' She stopped walking, folded her arms, and waited for him to continue.
The undivided attention seemed to rattle Dubenko further. He fiddled with a loose bolt on the side of the equipment cart as he babbled, "It's not like I haven't taken other students and residents out to dinner. But I didn't intend to not give you a chance to say 'no' . . . Well, of course that's what I intended, because then you would've said 'no'. But I didn't want to pressure you. That is, I mean, I . . ."
He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as if reining himself in. Then he looked directly at Abby, held her gaze intently, and said, "It wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."
Abby felt her cynical detachment crack, just a little. Apologies so rarely ended up being actually apologetic that she wasn't sure how to respond. After a moment, she replied simply, "It's OK."
He nodded, still holding her gaze.
Trying to level with him, Abby said, "I'm seeing someone."
A corner of Dubenko's mouth quirked upward. He glanced away briefly, then looked back at Abby and replied, "But that's not why you're not interested, is it?"
'Aaaagh!' Abby lamented to herself. She was trying to let him down easy. Why did he have to go making things harder on both of them? Even revealing that she's involved with someone was a bit too direct for Abby's tastes. She preferred passively waiting out unwanted attention. But Dubenko's piercing stare seemed to compel an honest answer, so she replied as gently as possible, "No, it isn't."
For a moment there was real hurt in the surgeon's gray eyes. Then he looked down. When he resumed eye contact a second or two later, he smiled and said, "Alright then." He nodded pleasantly at her, and began to leave the room.
'Wait – that's it? One minute he's obsessed with me, the next he's bowing out graciously?' Abby was perplexed. She was also concerned. It wouldn't be hard for Dubenko to figure out with whom she was involved. Jake had to work with this guy and was dependent on his recommendation to get a good match placement. Dubenko didn't seem the vindictive sort, but he definitely had the power to make both of their lives difficult. Before he could leave, she ventured, "So, we're OK then?"
"Um, sure," the surgeon replied. Grinning wryly, he added, "Believe it or not, I have been turned down before."
Abby found herself smiling at his candor, despite frustration that he missed the subtext of her question. OK, let's try again: "I mean, for working together, it could be . . . awkward." ('Come on, please read between the lines just this once . . .')
"Oh, do you think?" Dubenko's tone was curious, not sarcastic. "Well, I'll see what I can do about that. In any case, you don't have anything to worry about – you didn't do anything wrong."
On the face of it, it was hard for Abby to see how this last sentence could be read as anything other than a veiled threat. Being told by a superior that there's nothing to worry about was a red flag in itself, and the reason given in support of the assurance sounded so naive that it had to be disingenuous. But there was something abundantly sincere about the way Dubenko said it. He sounded like he was stating a simple truth about reality – his reality, anyway.
With a quick furtive smile and a nod, the surgeon left the room. Abby stood there for a moment, contemplating the notion that whatever planet Dubenko was from might not be such a bad place. Then she shrugged and went about the business of completing her patient's chart.
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Author's ramblings: What's in a name? On ER, Dubenko doesn't have one – a first name, that is. So far, each fanfic writer has chosen a different name for him (Dancing Namek and Dubenko Junkie, I love your stuff!). Continuing this practice, I've picked 'Lenya,' in part because it has a nice phonetic resemblance to the names other writers are already using, and also because I like the meaning – 'lion' (there's something leonine about that hair!). Mostly, I'll refer to him as Dubenko, but if you see a 'Len' or a 'Lenya' pop up, you'll know why.
Anyone know of anyplace to discuss our favorite socially inept surgeon, fics in progress, etc? I was depending on TWoP for my summer hiatus Dubenko fixes, and now the thread is gone . . .