Summary: Inspired by 'Informed consent.' Chase is a believer in doctor-assisted suicide.
Pairings: None.
Category: General/Angst
Timeline: Pre-series.
Rated: K+
2 a.m.
"I don't want to live anymore, doctor." The broken and battered middle-aged man croaked at Stephen Spencer.
Robert Chase stood soundlessly in the background. Maybe, he thought, if they forgot he was here, then he could stay and see how this played out.
Or maybe - and this thought was a little more desperate and had more to do with the tightening in his chest and heart – just maybe, this wouldn't be happening.
"I'm terminal," their patient croaked again, "I've got-" several hacking coughs accompanied by some less than appealing white phlegm brought up from his chest, "-I've got nothing left to live for."
Chase thought of the twenty-year-old woman asleep in the waiting room two floors below them and he was speaking before he knew that he actually wanted to. "What about your daughter?"
He could tell he was upset – more than marginally disturbed – by this. From the way his accent came out so thick and strong. He had completely detached himself from his emotions, so he was looking for physical clues.
The accent was one. The shaking hands were another. The nausea and teeth grinding topped the chart, and he was sure that if he were to look in a mirror he'd be a lovely shade of whiter than pale.
Then again, this wasn't about him.
"She doesn't need to-" Hacking cough, a hand raised automatically to his mouth, "-see me like this anymore."
"She's so young." Chase all but whispered. In truth, the daughter in question wasn't that much older than Chase was. She was twenty. He was twenty-five. He'd watched his own mother die when he'd been only seventeen.
None of it was fair.
"Dr. Chase." His boss spoke to him in a warning tone. Chase knew that tone. He knew he wasn't even supposed to be here.
Mac Douglas had stopped being his patient the moment he was transferred out of ICU, but because Chase was the man he was, he'd followed up with this patient. And because Dr. Spencer was the boss that he was, he'd allowed it.
Neither man had expected it to go this far.
"I'm sorry." He mumbled and stepped back slightly, hoping that the shadows of the hospital room would somehow cloak him with invisibility.
"It's time for me to go," Mac wheezed and somehow he managed to make that wheeze sound pleading, pathetic and sad all at once. "Just…put me out…" he started coughing again, more violently than before, but that was okay, as everyone in the room knew exactly what he'd been going to say.
"The nurse will bring your meds at three," Spencer said officially, logically, as he placed the clipboard back at the foot of the bed.
Chase glanced at the clock on instinct. Half past midnight.
The two doctors left the room before their patient could say anything more.
"What are you going to do?" Chase wasted absolutely no time in questioning him once they were alone in the hallway. "He wants you to-"
"I know exactly what he wants, Dr. Chase." Spencer snapped at him, but in a way that wasn't intended as a rebuke.
Chase had been working at this hospital – with this man – for just over two years now, and he knew how to read him. So he remained silent and waited.
"We're doctors." He sighed and suddenly seemed very tired, worn and old. "We're supposed to do no harm."
Chase waited. He knew there was a loophole coming. Dr. Spencer was full of loopholes.
"And sometimes…do no harm…comes down to…fulfilling certain requests."
Chase was silent. On some level – some logical level – he'd been expecting that. But his heart clenched and his stomach churned at the implications. His throat was dry and his words came out scratchy and so very Australian.
"You're…going to do it?" He swallowed and it made no difference in the presentation of his words. "You're going to kill him?"
"I'm going to help him." Spencer sighed and Chase wondered why he'd never noticed how old his boss was before now.
There was a moment of intense silence that meant very little to them. They were here and the decision had been made. There wasn't much left.
"I'm going to be back at two," Spencer said. "To check on Mr. Douglas." His tone was so normal that, if Chase had been a stupider individual, he might have been able to believe that he'd misunderstood their words of a few moments prior.
"If you want to help me, Dr. Chase," Spencer looked at him closely and Chase stood silent and still. "Be here at two."
Chase nodded in recognition of the offer. He hadn't agreed or declined.
"It is in our nature, as doctors," Spencer said quietly, "To want to care for patients. When they get better it means we've done our job and that is the most extreme satisfaction that once can feel. It's why many enter into this field."
That hadn't been why Chase had become a doctor, but he understood what the older man was saying and nodded all the same.
"But along with the pride and satisfaction that comes with being a doctor…you have to learn that there will be strife."
Chase nodded again and watched as Spencer deflated slightly, seemingly done with that speech. The elder doctor clapped his young fellow on the back and sighed. "Never read philosophy textbooks," he advised. "They screw with your head."
Chase nodded and smiled despite himself. He knew they were done for the moment.
o0oo0o
He found himself in the chapel because…well, that's just where he went.
When patients died under his care, when he got phone calls from his father, when he thought about his mother, when certain anniversaries passed by…this is where he went.
He'd stopped believing in God long ago. Well, maybe stopped wasn't the right word. Because he'd spent so much time and energy and put so much of his heart and soul into forcing himself to believe that there was indeed a higher power out there, he doubted that that would ever be completely gone from him.
It was his faith in God that had demolished over the years. His concern about Him. His love and trust. Because if he were to really question it, he knew that he'd never fully be able to stop believing.
Just like a child can never stop loving their parents. No matter how much evil they'd done – family was eternal. You could have all the hate in the world for your parents and still love them at least a little.
Chase knew this too well.
And it was exactly how he felt about God.
But once upon a time, he'd had such utter devotion for the entity, that he would have never even considered doing what he was about to do.
Now, however, he was a different person. Or perhaps, a more complicated version of the one he'd already been.
It really was hard to tell sometimes.
But he knew that he'd gone to the chapel tonight not because he felt guilty or needed redemption.
No, he'd come here to say a prayer.
He lit the tiny candle with the long match and whispered, "For Mac." Then blew out the match and bowed his head.
The world rang with silence.
o0oo0o
It took mere moments for the monitor to flat line.
Spencer had used a large dose. Larger than even most doctor-assisted suicide guidelines – if there were any – would recommend.
Chase's boss had grown fonder of this man than even Chase himself had, and he didn't want to cause him any undo suffering.
Mac had said, "Thank you," when they'd walked in and Spencer had held up the syringe, smiling sadly. And, "Tell Amy I love her."
Chase nodded, clenched his teeth and waited.
Less than a minute later, Mac Douglas was no longer a part of this world.
Spencer lowered the morphine syringe and bit his lip. He didn't turn around, but Chase had the sneaking suspicion that his eyes held tears.
Emotions weren't supposed to coincide with the actions of a doctor.
But really, who were they trying to kid?
The monitor stopped making noise and Chase heard Spencer take a deep breath. "This was better." He said, trying to assure himself far more than his underling. "This was right."
"I know." Chase spoke quietly. And he did. Do no harm, at some point, had to mean putting an end to suffering.
If there really was a God out there, and He didn't understand that…well, then Chase figured the whole world would be better off atheistic.
"Go home, Dr. Chase," Dr. Spencer turned around and smiled at him slightly. "Go enjoy your weekend."
"I will." The younger man nodded but knew there was more he needed to say. "But I want to be the one to tell the daughter."
"Why?" Spencer asked immediately, because no one ever wanted that responsibility.
Chase just shrugged, but deep down he knew.
He needed some redemption after all.
Fin.