Chapter Summary: Dr. John Thackery meets, and recruits, (and horrifies,) the newly graduated Dr. Bertram Chickering Jr.

Chapter Warnings: Aside from the deep mortified embarrassment of poor unsuspecting Bertie, there's not much in the way of warnings. Another hint to Thackery's drug habit and many references to a prior alcohol binge. Students are regularly stupid, what can I say.


Thackery
May 19, 1899


Dr. Bertram J. Chickering Jr. took the form of a condensed, affable looking copy of his namesake.

Which would be hilarious, if not for the fact that said namesake was stalking around the room and that the sainted offspring himself looked as if was about to spew up his breakfast at any moment's notice.

Indeed, Chickering Junior did not look well at all, but then, Dr. Thackery was not without pity in that regard. He occasionally looked back upon his own university days and their subsequent celebrations fondly and, having since long survived them, he felt, lived to be the wiser.

Mostly.

Dr. Chickering, at least, seemed to be heavily atoning for whatever ill-advised revelry he'd participated in the night before. Thack tracked him down to a quiet corner of an off-side room during the reception of the Class of 1899's graduation dinner. An inviting little space, where one might try to collect oneself without any loud noises, bright sunlight or intense summer heat. Some small relief from what was certainly a terrible skull-splitting headache.

It's an adequate spot to recover after being so severely overserved in any case, but most importantly, it was private. Well out of the way. Thackery, trying to look inconspicuous in his dress whites, walked over with the intention of ruining the boy's pursuit of peace and quiet once the coast was clear.

"Friedrich Nietzsche, I see."

His target was looking upon a painting of a man with an oversized moustache when Thack got close enough for conversation. It was only until he spoke that Dr. Chickering actually noticed him. The younger man nearly jumped out of his own skin at the unexpected intrusion, spinning around on the spot, wide-eyed and baffled.

Face to face, Thackery looked down at the overgrown candidate for second communion and wondered if he was ever that young looking at his own graduation. True enough, Chickering was younger seeming due to his size and general complexion — a fair bit shorter and baby faced than conventional, certainly more cute than dignified all dressed up in white-tie finery, but Thack couldn't help but get the impression he was faced with a boy playing doctor, as opposed to a newly graduated physician.

That is until Dr. Chickering's posture shifted. Then Thack noticed the constrained bulk and stature of the amateur athlete and the infant warning signs of a very, very familiar expression.

Under a scruffy jaw in want of a shave, Dr. Chickering regarded Thackery head-on. His mouth settled into a thin, disturbed line, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to place Thackery, to put a name to a face.

Yes, very familiar indeed. Thack had been right in his first impression; Bertram Junior took on from his father in more than just his colouring and mannerisms. He'll grow into the man's face as he gets older. Not completely, just more.

"I.. beg your pardon?" Dr. Chickering asked, completely bewildered though somehow also managing immaculate politeness.

And that was where all resemblance ended, it seemed. Young Bertram here had not inherited his father's stern unflinching exterior. Quite the opposite.

Thackery pointed at the painting. "The fellow you were so admiring there."

Judging by the side-eye glance Chickering gave it, he wasn't a great enthusiast of the arts. Or German philosophers with extreme facial hair. Almost as quickly as he looked at it, he then did so away.

"Right. Yes. Of course."

Thack shot him an amused smile and extended his hand in greeting.

"Dr. John Thackery." He introduced himself.

Then savoured the immediate look of horror that Dr. Chickering let slip when he recognised him and his name.

The boy inhaled, too sharp, and glanced knowingly to the left into the other room where Dr. Chickering Sr. was standing — and of course, of course, he knows. For a split moment, Thack wondered if the boy was about to flee then and there, but etiquette and bravery appeared to win out.

Chickering Junior shook Thack's hand and returned the smile, if a little more fixedly.

"Dr. Bertram Chickering." He replied. Then added as an afterthought. "Junior."

"I'm very aware. Dr. Koff speaks highly of you."

In any other instance, this might have been a relief to some people, perhaps a present surprise, but apparently, this made Chickering all the more alarmed. Maybe it was just a surprise; off tangent from what he was normally used to. Some semblance of I know your father, perhaps. But this wasn't about Chickering Sr., no. This was about the boy. Like it or not, Thack wanted this here youngster's apparent aptitude more than he wanted to poke the stick at his old man.

That doesn't mean he can't do both at the same time. Thack watched the boy readjust, watch him carefully regard him as one complete entity, from his boots to the vague region of his face.

Then Chickering nodded, as if it finally made sense.

"Thank you. And him, you, too," he admitted with a surprising amount of very genuine respect. "Your work with Dr. Christensen is... Incredible. Dr. Koff made certain to include it in his demonstrations, you know. He follows your advancements closely."

So the young man knew enough about what they did at the Knick to not take his father's word at face value. Thackery was immediately pleased.

"I mean- y'know." Dr. Chickering must have taken Thack's silence for disapproval, for he carried on, a little desperately. "The Thackery Point for your location of the appendix and its subsequent safe removal. We've practised on cadavers, naturally, but I got to assist in surgery once – I mean, not – not on the surgical team, proper, I... Just. I just helped. To not go borrowing through the intestines, just follow the directions and, there. Remarkable, really."

Dr. Thackery leaned over and asked, as casually as possible while trying not to stare the younger doctor down in obsessive interest. "And, uh, it succeeded?"

The younger man nodded again, momentarily forgetting any prior discomfort in the face of an interesting and, it seems, well-known subject. "The laparoscopic appendectomy succeeded, yes. There was an aftercare issue, I believe, but that wasn't on the fault of the procedure. Your work was invaluable, as I'm sure you've already heard."

Thackery shrugged in an attempt to appear humble.

"It's all in service to the world at large," Thack replied, meaning it, though he'll admit any humility he was trying to achieve was failing spectacularly in the face of having his hard-won work so graciously praised.

But - no. Thack was here to charm a potential apprentice, not the other way around. Taking a swig of his champagne and carefully noting Chickering's evident ability to win him over in the space of roughly three sentences, he continued on with his intended goal.

"Which begs the question, what are you intending to do now that you've-" Thackery waved a hand around the room. "-come out the other side unscathed?"

The important question. Dr. Chickering glanced back in the vague direction of his father before dragging his gaze back across the floor.

Ah, so an unwelcome one also. Very interesting.

"Well... Presbyterian offers some... certain opportunities." Dr. Chickering attempted, diplomatically. It sounded like a lame and off-script version of a usually very well-rehearsed answer. "And of course, I imagine, chances to start my own practice down the line."

Of course. Thackery sighed in muted frustration and shot a singular thin glare toward Dr. Chickering Sr's turned back. Of course, the man wouldn't want his so-important namesake wandering too far, doing anything remotely of scientific value.

No, Thack knew all too well. A safe career in a safe, well-connected hospital in aid of one day establishing a safe, affluent practice. From where Thackery imagined the boy will safely undertake every single pre-described life goal until he's retired with grandchildren fifty years down the line.

He cast a searching look over the younger man. He's what? Twenty-three? Four? Christ, Thack wanted to cry, let the boy live a little.

Instead of doing that, he hummed under his breath and recited. "It is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say 'Father, as it please you'."

Chickering blinked. "I'm sorry?"

So not a classics fan, either. There's a shame. Thack shrugged again. "Oh, I have a Shakespeare habit."

That, apparently, was not sufficient enough of an explanation, because the boy somehow managed to look even more perplexed than he did before. Thack quickly elected to drag the conversation back to the matter at heart lest he mystified Chickering entirely.

"Dr. Koff says you were one of his better students when it came to the surgical field and if he had you assisting in an appendectomy before you were even out of the university, I dare say I believe him."

"Oh, that." Bertram Junior grimaced. "Like I said it wasn't- I helped."

"Ah, yes. Helped." Thackery rolled his eyes. "Regardless, I imagined that might be something you'd want to take up. Surely a man your talent and, uh, education might want to work in that field, no? Sounds like you put a lot of effort into learning about it. See the way I figure, Dr. Chickeri-"

Dr. Chickering's eyes suddenly narrowed, expression both hungry and desperate at once and Thack, staring at him, instantly lost his train of thought.

"Cardiothoracics." The younger man replied to the point of interrupting, too quickly. And, oh.

Oh.

"Thoracic surgery?" Thackery reiterated, very, very gently.

"I- there's some..." Chickering stammered, off-balance and therefore panicking. He'd realised what he'd just said and was suitably modified. Yes, Thack thought, definitely off-script. Someone ought to teach this one to lie better.

Thackery was a good liar. Thackery could teach him that.

"... I mean, fellowships are starting up in that area and I figured one day-"

One day. Thack sighed again. The fact that the younger man was intelligent - and, likely talented - enough to even entertain the possibility of an intricate specific area of study this early on was very promising. Thack quashed the urge to get excited, to focus not on the distant possibilities but the impending issue at hand.

It was difficult. This here boy might just be the one he needed. Thackery did not know wherever to praise Koff to the high heavens, to damn him, or be suspicious of any ulterior motives. Maybe Koff was just good at his job. Maybe he knew Thackery well enough after all.

"Let me stop you right there, doctor, and be frank with you." Thackery stepped closer. Chickering managed some socially acceptable half-lean, half-step backwards. "I came here to make you an offer, for a position on our surgical team as an intern."

The younger man's discomfort ground to a halt. Instead of getting disapproval as he had likely expected, Thackery had given him something else. His face smoothed out, guarded, but thoughtful.

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Yes, Dr. Chickering. You."

He must assume that Thack is joking, because he laughed, though it sounded more out of pent up tension than any real amusement. Dr. Thackery was too good at the game to smile or raise an eyebrow or frown or respond visibly. Instead, he just waited it out.

"I- I don't know what to say." Dr. Chickering admitted, eventually. "But surely there are more experienced surgeons out there who'd be much better suited."

Dr. Thackery shook his head and downed the rest of his champagne in one complete go. He watched the boy watch him back, watched him trace Thack's half-bouncing, his rhythm. Watched him do it uneasily, but with interest, and decided that the game was still very much on. Chickering hadn't given him an outright no, just deflected. A symptom of self-doubt than real lack of ability — which could be remedied, with the right influences.

Thack can work with this.

"I don't want experience," Thackery informed him, bluntly, opting for a slightly stronger approach, testing his limits. "I want someone who's got skill, but who can gain experience with us, who can stand on our shoulders and one day make something of themselves without any pointless bureaucratic nonsense getting in the way."

He pointed at Dr. Chickering.

"You came out of Columbia here, according to Dr. Koff, with a rare aptitude for surgical procedure. Surely it'd be a disservice to everyone to waste your talents diagnosing the middle class with the mundane and ordinary, day in day out."

"Well- I mean-"

Thackery stepped forward again and could see the boy intending on stepping back entirely, but he was blocked by the table that sat right behind them. When his back hit the edge, Dr. Chickering glanced over his shoulder and immediately cringed away from it.

There, boxed in between the precariously placed glasses and his newly acquired inquisitor, the boy could only stand, trying to not hunch down in discomfort as Thackery loomed right above him.

"At the Knick, we work tirelessly to breach the bounds of known medical science." Thackery made a quick, just-to-be-sure glance over towards where Bertram Sr. was standing, then returned his attention back to the younger doctor. "We also have a belief, Dr. Christensen and I, that one-on-one apprenticeships are the best way to create talented future doctors. He took me under his wing sixteen years ago and now, I want to take on someone of my own."

Aside from the astounded horror of being singled out like this, the younger man did not instantly turn him down. Instead, he muttered some nonsense words that were vaguely disagreeable and therefore of no real argumentative worth.

"But- you don't, you haven't-"

"And if I'm wrong you can go skipping back to Columbia," Thackery groaned in that tired, overreacting way people do when dealing with someone who was being overdramatic and matching their tone quid pro quo. Dr. Chickering very nearly looked affronted.

Good. So there was a bit of his father's ire in there.

"But until I get you in an operating room, I don't know."

Two men walked by them, to take a different corner of the same room. It burst the momentary illusion that they were alone and while neither of the newcomers looked at them with any real interest, it was still an unwelcome intrusion. Keenly aware of the two new presences, Junior squared himself off, posture adjusting to something a little less pathetic.

It left Thack to shift his jaw and step back, to put some space between them so it no longer looked like he was about to seize the younger man. Instead, he tried again, a little more gently and a little more direct.

"Dr. Chickering, I'm offering you a position at the Knick as one of our junior surgeons, as my surgical apprentice. It's really that simple."

"Just like that?" The younger man asked back, weary.

"Just like that. Koff is a hard man to win the approval of, and nothing about what he told me suggested that you'd be a bad fit. Nothing you said today did, either."

Chickering was about to correct him on that but an agitated hand gesture cut him off.

"It also makes me very surprised that you weren't thrown into a surgical residency against your will. We need surgeons now more than ever."

And that was the truth of it — a truth that Dr. Chickering apparently knew, given the contemplative look he returned.

Oh, Thackery is certain he knew what was wrong. He knew Dr. Chickering Sr., knew the man's... stubborn tendencies. He had no doubt that the man had tirelessly and forcibly constructed an entire plan of action for his son to follow from the moment he was born.

It's in the name, after all.

He also knew that the Knick was a poor man's hospital; that the majority of its patients were treated by the so-called generosity of the health department. Presbyterian wasn't much better in that regard, true, but it was closely connected with Columbia and, given how many times he'd seen Dr. Chickering Sr. conversing with the surgeons at Presbyterian Hospital over the years, it had many connections and working relationships a young medical professional like Bertram Jr. would find invaluable. The social connection part of their work was often as important as the research and the skill. It was how many men got research partners, how they got in on new discoveries before the rest.

The Knickerbocker meanwhile was owned by a society man and shipping magnate. Thack knew that Robertson was keeping the doors open by sheer force of will and more charity than not. The Knick's only pull in terms of medical importance was that of the capability and acclaim of its surgeons. The madness and attraction of its senior surgical staff. The circus.

If Thack and Christensen weren't there, well.

It was not the sort of place Columbia University's Bertram Chickering Jr. would be picking as a last option, let alone a first one.

So, he is surprised when the young man just looked at him, a little too hard and declared, abruptly:

"Would you rather I just... came in, or? I mean- Just to, you know. Talk about it. I don't know if you do tests like at Bellevue."

Thackery went from astonishment to genuine excitement in the space of about half a second.

"We don't. I'll tell Barrow that we're expecting you," Thack replied, shocked and pleased and, maybe a little relieved. He'd done it. In the space of one ten minute conversation, he'd got what he came for. Or close enough.

The Board was going to hate him for weeks.

"Pop down, take a look at our facilities, meet the staff. You don't have to make a decision right away. Although, Dr. Chickering... I'm offering a position that will put you at the threshold of medical discovery in New York, America as a whole – maybe even the whole world." Dr. Thackery stopped fidgeting. He stood up straight and gave the boy a long, considering look. "I won't make it easy for you to just decline."

Dr. Chickering threw him an odd look. "What are you going to do, wrestle me into a surgeon's gown against my will?"

It was a bold attempt at humour, said by a man who was slowly growing bolder. Thackery actually laughed. "If it comes to that."

That was apparently the right response to make, for the boy looked a little more at ease. Thack slapped him on the arm.

"I'll see you soon then, Dr. Chickering."

And that was that. No, I hope I see you soon, or, I better see you soon — just the smug, pleased assertion that Dr. Chickering would do just that. Because of course he will.

Thack had a good feeling about this one.