Chapter 8 – His Support System

An essential piece of surviving as a doctor is learning to just toughen up and deal with all the shit that comes your way. However, another good thing to have with you is a support system, be it trusted co-workers, sympathetic friends, or even just your crazy ass family. Or a really good shrink. You've just got to know that when things get out of control you've got someone who will be behind you, defend you, encourage you, and keep you from hitting the dirt. Or at least from having to sit in it too long.

The reality of it all threatened to strike me once again as I walked out of the doors to Sacred Heart. As I headed for my cherished Porsche, my eyes unconsciously drifted to the parking space behind mine. My bumper buddy; I remembered the term with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Last night I had watched that blue sissy car peal out of the car park like some sort of street racer. That car was gone, obliterated beyond repair, and the driver, my Newbie, was strung up inside the building I'd just left.

I threw myself down into the seat of my car, forcing myself to steady my heart rate again. No use getting all crazy about it now, there was nothing I could do to change it. Body once again under control, I started the ignition and started the drive home, determinedly ignoring the feeling of guilt that washed over me as I left the lot knowing that, because of me, Newbie wouldn't leave for a long time yet. I had to keep focused or I'd end up in the hospital bed next to Newbie and then we'd both be in trouble.

I managed to maintain my composure throughout the drive and arrived at my apartment the same time as the pizza guy. The pock-faced teen seemed a bit alarmed as I gruffly took the cardboard boxes out of his arms and shoved a few crumpled bills into his hand before barking at him to go. The kid had just turned hesitantly to leave, clearly wondering if he'd been jacked, when I opened the door and stepped in with a quick, "I'm home." I then promptly shut the door in the spotted teen's face.

"Daddy!"

The familiar shout made me smile and I shifted the boxes into one arm so I could catch my running son in the other. Jack leapt into my open arm and settled himself comfortably against my hip. Arms now full, I peered into the living room to find Jordan sitting on the couch with Jennifer Dylan resting in her lap. My ex-wife smiled slightly and the little girl let out a happy noise somewhere between a giggle and squeal.

"Pewwy gots pizza!" Jack announced cheerfully, wiggling in my arms. He then launched into some sort of squirmy dance while chanting, "Pizza, Pewwy, pizza."

Smiling, I jerked my head toward the dining room and Jordan obligingly stood and carried Jennifer into her high-chair while I set the boxes on the table and placed the still wriggling Jack in his own chair. Then I disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a stack of paper plates and a jar of some sort of foul, creamed vegetable substance for Jen's dinner.

Dinner was easily the brightest and seemingly most natural event that ever took place at the Sullivan-Cox residence. Jordan chatted about their day while simultaneously reminding Jack to take smaller bites so he didn't get sick. I ate my own slice with one hand while I spoon-fed the veggie goop to my infant girl. When Jen puckered her lower lip out and refused to open her mouth again, eyes fixated on the greasy pizza in my other hand, I grudgingly placed a spoonful of the vegetable-like stuff in my mouth and smiled while I fought back the urge to gag. After this Jennifer eased up and allowed me to feed her the rest of the baby food while I washed away the horrid taste in my mouth with four more slices of pizza and two beers. There was the occasional snide comment that passed between Jordan and I, although we refrained from saying anything truly demeaning to each other while in front of the kids. Overall, despite being an unorthodox and dysfunctional family, we actually looked quite normal.

I was smiling contentedly as I surveyed the scene before me. It gave me a sense of pleasure that I couldn't really find anywhere else. To see my baby daughter with creamed asparagus and some other vegetable I'd never heard of all over her face while she grinned up at me, that look of adoration in her eyes unmistakable. To listen to Jack stumbling over his words while he explained something to me that I couldn't understand but assumed was significant to the child, and delighted in the enthusiastic giggling when I gave my son an affirmative nod to whatever he'd asked about. And to meet the eyes of my ex-wife, that woman I so loved to hate, as she shook her head at the mess I'd made feeding our daughter and began gathering up the dirty plates for the garbage. I saw in her gaze an understanding and compassion for me that no one else on the planet could rival and was not all that bothered to discover that with all of her cynicism and harsh words, I actually loved to hate just how much I loved her.

"Hey, Captain Blank-Stare, you mind running JD's bath and cleaning up that disaster you just made?" Jordan asked, jerking me out of my observations. Instead of bothering to find a snappish reply, and forcing myself to ignore the use of that planned nickname she proposed just to annoy me, I simply extracted Jennifer from the various buckles keeping her in place and carried her into the bathroom. Boy am I being a pansy today.

Washing my daughter was a simple enough task, at least compared to some of the other chores of raising children. She fussed a lot less than Jack ever had and I managed to come out of the ordeal only marginally damp. Now fed and bathed, dressed in her pajamas and wrapped in her delivering blanket, Jennifer was drifting off in my arms. Handing her off to Jordan, I was then given the task of getting Jack into the bath as well. This ended up being a forty-five minute endeavor that I left dripping wet. Changing into one of my favorite jerseys and a pair of sweats, I finally rejoined the family in the living room. Jordan was lounging on the couch, Jennifer cradled on her chest, and Jack was rummaging through the DVD cabinet.

"You're letting him watch a movie?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, glancing at the clock. It was already after eight, less than an hour before Jack's normal bedtime.

"Oh don't be so neurotic," Jordan said in reply. Then lowering her voice she added, "He's just had an entire slice of pizza and a bath. Add his favorite movie and he'll be out like a light in twenty minutes tops."

I smiled. "Fantastic," I said under my breath and then looked over at Jack, who was jumping up and down, hugging a movie case. "You picked one there, Jacko?"

"Kitty kitty!" Jack cried gleefully, dancing in a small circle. I inwardly sighed. Damn Newbie for giving Jack that movie for his last birthday. The last thing I needed was the ultimate girly-man rubbing off some of his behaviors on my child, and getting Jack hooked on The Lion King had certainly qualified there. Not to mention that I had now seen it so many times that when Newbie began humming one of the songs at work, I knew the song and ended up with it stuck in my head the rest of the day.

"Alright, kitties it is," I conceded. I caught the amused look on Jordan's face as I stood to put the disc in the player. I ignored her again. When I had settled myself onto the couch again, Jack climbed up into my lap and made himself comfortable for the movie. And, just as Jordan had predicted, he was asleep before the baby lion had the chance to grow up.

Once we were certain both children were fast asleep, I turned off the television and carried the sleeping Jack into his bedroom. I arranged him on his bed, tucking him in underneath the heap of blankets. For a few seconds I just stood there and stared down at my kid, a slightly dazed smile on my face. These were those minutes where I felt that life truly was good, seeing my son so peaceful. I had never been that at ease as a kid. It was reassuring for me to know that I had succeeded at least a little where my father had so miserably failed. I hadn't become my father. I was better.

"Per." I glanced back over my shoulder to see Jordan standing in the doorway, gesturing for me to follow her out. As I stepped towards her, she whispered, "You're getting all soft and mushy again."

I grabbed her ass and said, "Hmm, seems like you are to." A swift elbow into my stomach ended the conversation and I turned to close the door to Jack's room. Jordan's arms were empty so she'd obviously put Jennifer to sleep already, but there was a plastic baby monitor clamped in one of her hands that was emitting a faint sound of breathing. I walked past her and into the living room, heading straight for my liquor cabinet and pouring myself a glass of scotch. I didn't bother asking Jordan if she was coming as well, knowing she would, and poured a glass for her as well. Just as I suspected, when I turned around she was already seated on the couch. Sliding over the back, I handed one of the glasses to her.

"How's DJ?"

I paused, my glass just a fraction of an inch from my lips. Leave it to Jordan to not beat around the bush. Willing movement back into my hand, I took a hasty sip of the amber liquid to steal myself.

"He's doing fine by medical standards," I said evasively, but knowing that she would pick up on the dodge. "His leg is set back right, none of the cuts were infected. Those broken ribs will take a while to heal but they should be okay too. He'll have a heart attack if we tell him they had to shave off some of his hair to stitch his head shut though." I gave a half-forced laugh at this, privately amused by the idea but too sobered by the seriousness of the condition to really feel any humor.

"Wow, what happened to him? Was he trying to prove to his son he could be a man but underestimated the little cub scout? Or did his new boyfriend turn out to be a jerk?" Jordan asked eagerly. I grinned as I looked her over, knowing this was part of the reason I loved her so much. She was acting sarcastic as usual, but I could see that there was a sincere concern beneath her gaze. Deep beneath it. However the tone of her voice made it easier for me to continue with such a serious topic and not worry about getting, well, Newbie-ish.

"Got mashed up in that wimp car of his," I said. "Some idiot trucker fell asleep and decided to use Lindsey's car as a rumble strip. Figures as much, he managed to escape with just a few stitches in his forehead and Newbie is still stuck in the ICU after almost dying."

"Figures," Jordan agreed, shaking her head. "So that's why you didn't come home last night."

"No, Jordan, I didn't come home because I was on-call," I explained as if I was talking to Jack. "You know, that part of the job where I have to sleep at the hospital in case anyone decides to, you know, like die in the middle of the night."

"Oh please, Per, we both know that you don't actually have to be on-call if you don't want to. That's why you're the boss," she said off-handedly. "So you don't have to live at the hospital, or even deal with all those sick people. Look at Bob, he never treated patients."

"Please, please, puh-lease tell me that you did nawt just compare me to Beezlebob," I said, glaring at her in the best attempt of anger I could pull off with her when I didn't actually hate her. It was hard to really be mad at her right now though since she was sitting here listening to me instead of blowing me off for the sleeping she clearly wanted right now. "C'mon, Jor, that's a low blow even from you."

"Don't be so dramatic," Jordan said, rolling her eyes and taking a large swallow of the scotch. "I'm just saying, if you really wanted to come home last night then you would have. But you stayed because DJ got hurt and you were mother henning him as usual." I opened my mouth to argue but she overrode me. "If not then what was that on the phone earlier? That you couldn't leave because you were afraid of him going to cardiac arrest. We both know this is something more than you're letting on."

"He has an arrhythmia," I said, trying to inject all the confidence I had into it. At least it was true, even if it wasn't the most prominent factor. They could have fixed even that easily but the kid was allergic to the anti-arrhythmia medication. "I really was worried about cardiac arrest. You know how weak his little tween queen heart is."

"This isn't about DJ," Jordan said firmly. "This is about you." This statement struck me silent. "It was the cardiac arrest that took Ben, and you felt guilty because you left and you think you could have saved him if you were there. Ben was your best friend, I know that. And now DJ, who has always been there for you since he started working here, is the one in the hospital. So you're convinced if you leave then history is just going to repeat itself."

I drained my glass, silent for a moment because she had struck the nail on the head even though I was not about to admit it. Easiest scapegoat: topic detour. "Whoa there now, were you just insinuating that Caroline is comparable to my best friend? Because that is so far from the truth that I cannot even begin to figure where you started with that Thought-Train to arrive by noon at the Never-Gonna-Happen Station."

"I didn't say that he was your best friend," Jordan clarified, her tone clearly annoyed by my edging of the topic. "However we both know that you care for DJ just as much as you ever cared for Ben. It might be in a different way, because Ben was like your brother and DJ is more like your dog, but either way you know you are really attached to them both."

"But Ben's dead," I said sharply, starting to get uncomfortable with the truth I wasn't ready to admit aloud yet. Or ever.

"Which is why losing DJ is that much more frightening for you," Jordan reasoned. "Because you've already lost Ben even though you cared for him so much. Now the thought of losing the other person who is that close to you is unbearable because then you're afraid you'd have nobody."

"It doesn't matter, he's already gone!" I exploded and then glanced worriedly at Jack's door, afraid my outburst had woken the boy. We both waited a few pregnant seconds but the door stayed shut.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asked and there was a look of genuine worry on her face now, all pretenses gone. "He isn't - ?"

"No, he's alive," I said, sinking back onto the couch dejectedly. "But he's a blank slate. The head injury gave him amnesia and he doesn't remember who anyone is, not even me. It's like he's already gone, because the person I've known all this time is just – not there."

There was a very long quiet following this announcement as both of them mulled over the words. Finally, when three whole minutes had passed, Jordan swallowed the rest of her drink and offered a stunned, "Wow." I nodded, still too deep in thought to bother coming up with a response. Jordan seemed to think for a moment. "But amnesia's not always permanent. It could come back to him, can't it?"

"It's about a fifty-fifty chance," I grunted. "He says it feels like everything is there, it's just out of reach and too 'fuzzy' to see. We're trying to see if we can help him get a grasp on something. You know, bringing in pictures to see if something triggers."

"I hope it works," Jordan said solemnly. Then her sardonic smile was back. "It won't be any fun teasing him if he doesn't get it."

"Yeah, don't I know it," I said and managed a small laugh. For a little while longer we sat in a thoughtful, but more at ease, quiet, and then Jordan broke it again by standing up.

"Alright well I'm going to bed," she declared. "It looks like you probably should too. You're gonna start looking as old as you really are if you don't sleep a little more."

I scoffed. "Never. Of course with all that poison you've injected into your face you're probably never going to look your age until it all collapses and you start looking like your mom."

"Don't start that," Jordan warned, her hands flying up to latch securely onto the sides of my face, her remarkably strong arms holding me firmly in place. She was now close enough that I could feel her breath on my face as we stared each other down.

"Oh and then when your boobs start sagging down you'll look like your grandma instead," I said, grinning in a mocking way, daring her to stop me. Her eyes were flashing. "Of course then you'll have to–" Before I could finish my sentence my lips were being crushed beneath hers and I couldn't be bothered to conjure another word. She began nipping at my lower lip and as much as I wanted to protest I instead moaned in pleasure. The next thing I knew Jordan's legs were around my waist and we were heading for the bedroom. Our only stop on the way was to grab the baby monitor from the coffee table – just in case.

I carried her while she bit at my lips and jawline, trying to sneak in a kiss or two but finding it a little bit hard to focus. My hand fumbled with the door as I kept her aloft with one hand, my fingers constantly missing the orb as my eyes closed in pleasure each time Jordan assaulted me. I finally managed to open the door and stumbled inside, closing the door again with my foot, and a split second later I fell onto the bed, Jordan's legs still secured around my waist as I pinned her to the mattress.

Jordan bit at my neck roughly and I let out a noise of surprise, pushing up from her and glaring. "Hey, watch it, Godzilla," I warned. Jordan ignored me with a quick mutter of, "such a baby," shoving me up into a sitting position and jerking my shirt off. Her fingernails ran over my chest forcefully and I tried desperately not to moan again. "Down, kitty," I growled while my fingers fumbled over the buttons of her shirt. To my surprise Jordan's hand did indeed drift downward to the drawstring of my sweats and just at that very second a wail emitted from the piece of plastic machinery that had been dropped unceremoniously on the floor just inside the bedroom door.

Jordan and I groaned in synch and the former threw herself off my lap, trudging out of the room. A few seconds later I heard her voice join in with Jennifer's on the baby monitor. Sighing, I spread myself out on the bed, tucking my hands behind my head and relaxing back on the pillows. Despite the rush of testosterone, there was no denying I was bushed. It wouldn't hurt for me to just close my eyes for a second while I waited for Jordan to come back and attack me again. She'd wake me back up without a second thought if I fell asleep anyway.

The alarm woke me when it went off at six the following morning. I hastily rolled over and slammed a hand down on the contraption to silence it before it woke Jordan. I had fallen asleep before she'd gotten back from tending our daughter and she had surprisingly left me to sleep for once. Now she was curled up on the other side of the bed, a strand of her hair hanging limply over her face and fluttering under her nose while she breathed. It was an almost charming thing to watch her sleep; she was quiet and peaceful, and it once again reminded me of that beautiful young girl I'd fallen in love with over twenty years ago. Of course her face was so youthful because most of it was synthetic, but that was beside the point.

Dragging myself out of bed, I set about my morning routine. Stumble to the kitchen in my boxers to start the coffee machine. Grumble to myself that we really should invest in a coffee maker with an automatic timer. Nearly break my ankle tripping on a stray toy as I make my way back to the bathroom. Take a quick, scalding shower and then frantically fix some of my stray curls while simultaneously admiring myself in the mirror. Dress in my usual work clothes, and then return to the kitchen to finally get that oh-so-necessary dosage of caffeine.

As I was starting on my second cup, Jack trudged into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. I smiled. Jack had always been an early riser just like me. "Hey, Jacko," I said and the boy grinned up at me.

"Hey," Jack said, his voice still thick with sleep. "Bref-ist?"

"Cereal good?" I asked back, already heading for the cupboard before I heard the 'yum' of approval from behind. I poured a bowl of some sugary cereal and doused it in milk before setting it at the kitchen table in front of my son, handing him a spoon.

"You eat?" Jack asked, glancing over suspiciously at the blank spot on the table in front of me. I looked at the sugary sweet bowl and decided that although I really should eat something before work, there was no way I was eating something that sweet this early in the morning. I retrieved an apple from the crisper and a small paring knife, and then sat down at the table to eat it. Jack looked content with this and finally began sloppily eating his own breakfast.

I watched Jack eat as I carved slices out of the piece of fruit and popped them into my mouth. Occasionally Jack would look over and open his mouth expectantly, at which I would toss a piece of apple into the kid's mouth. Jack beamed at this as he munched the apple bits. As I stood to toss out the apple core I glanced at my watch and frowned. Time to leave for work.

But as much as I wanted to feel upset at this, and I did because I liked being with my son, I still felt a little anxious to be back and check on Newbie. Carla hadn't called which meant that apparently nothing had happened, but that didn't ease my nerves a whole lot. I needed to see for myself. It was just how I worked.

"Alright, kiddo, I gotta go to work," I announced and Jack frowned in a way so reminiscent of his mother's pout that I almost laughed. "Sorry, bud, but I'll be home tonight and we'll watch another movie, m'kay?"

"Aw-wight," Jack said, the words embedded in a heavy sigh. "Fishy?"

"Fishy, it is," I agreed. Great, Finding Nemo again. "Okay, give me a kiss." I leaned down for Jack to kiss me and then headed for the living room to gather my stuff where I'd dropped it the night before. Next to my car keys I found an old shoebox with a piece of scrap paper taped to the top. I recognized the handwriting as Jordan's.

Had these in the closet, thought maybe they would help DJ.

I lifted the lid of the box and felt something in my chest stir. It was filled with a collection of black-and-white polaroids, all of them featuring people who looked very surprised to be captured on film. There were dozens of faces that I recognized from work, including my own quite a few times. The picture on the very top featured me, scowling impressively, and a stunned Newbie. I could remember when this had been taken, over four years ago. Ben's pictures from when he'd been in the hospital.

"Hey Jackie Boy," I said and glanced back at my son, still sitting at the kitchen table and swinging his legs. Jack looked up intently. "You wanna do me a favor?" Jack nodded eagerly, all smiles. "You go tell your mom that I love her very much, okay?"

Jack nodded again and leapt out of the chair. I had reached the door at the same time that Jack ran down the hall and into my bedroom, yelling, "Moooom, Pewwy wuvs you vehr mush."

Grinning in amusement, I left the apartment, the taste of sugary cereal still on my lips from Jack and my ex-wife's box of photos tucked under my arm.