AN: Wow, 100 reviews! I've never gotten that many reviews so quickly before. It took me two years to accumulate the hundred reviews I have on my other fic. You guys are so fabulous, words can't even begin to describe it.
And then I feel horrible because in repayment for your awesome support, you get this chapter. It's abysmally short (shortest chapter in the story), and not a whole lot happens in it. I've been trying all week to edit it and make it better, but it hasn't helped a whole lot and I still feel it doesn't live up to my standards. So to make it up, you guys get another update tomorrow with a chapter where a little more happens!
Chapter 19 – His Morning After
When unexpected things happen, we all tend to throw up this wall of shock to protect ourselves. This denial lets us accept the truth at a less jarring pace. It acts as a little barrier to block out the stuff that's painful to absorb until we are ready to let it in. It works really well for what it does, but it doesn't make that time when you have to fully accept the truth any less painful to deal with.
"Um – Dr. Cox?"
The voice didn't startle me awake as much as the tentative hand that landed on my shoulder at the same time. I bolted upright and instantly regretted it. My head swam at the motion, creating a dull pounding in the center of my forehead. Dazzlingly bright whiteness stung my eyes, intensifying the headache, and I pressed my eyes shut again. The cottony sensation in my mouth felt like it must muffle my groan but it didn't. Instead the noise seemed to drive into my ear drums like a needle, along with the various beeps and hums coming from around me.
"Whoa, sorry, man, maybe I shouldna woke you, you just look like you could use a break."
"Gandhi, shhh," I commanded, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. For once he listened to me. It was several long minutes later when I finally felt steady enough to look up again.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding white, enough at least to recognize where I was. I had fallen asleep, my head propped on my crossed arms which had been resting on the edge of a hospital bed. The occupant was still unconscious and completely unaware of the dozen machines attached to his body. A television mounted in the corner was playing an early morning ESPN recap of the previous day's games. Gandhi was standing beside me, looking nervous.
"Dude, you look awful," he said.
"Thanks," I grunted out. I pulled a hand back through my hair, wincing as my fingers caught in my tangled curls, and then rubbed my face until I felt a little more awake.
"Here," Gandhi said, handing out a steaming Coffeebucks cup. I raised a questioning eyebrow but took it anyway. When I sipped at it I couldn't stop my look of disgust.
"Dear god, what is this sludge?" I asked once I'd managed to swallow.
Gandhi chuckled. "Sugar-free latte," he answered. Despite the casual way he said it, I recognized the order and knew what it meant. As if he could read my thoughts, he simply said, "You looked like you could use it more."
"Thanks," I said again and took another swallow, grimacing at the taste but grateful for the caffeine I could already feel slipping into my systems.
"Any improvement?" he asked, his eyes slipping past me to the bed.
"Nope, same as last night," I replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "You working?"
"Nah, just got off," Gandhi answered. "Was on-call last night. Why?"
"'Cause I'm putting you on baby-sitting duty," I announced, standing up. "I'm gonna go remedy my hangover, so you get to stay and keep an eye on Princess." With that I stalked past him and down to the lockers, sucking down the awful coffee on the way. Thankfully everyone was smart enough to leave me the hell alone.
Of course when I got to the locker room and caught sight of myself in the mirrors, I realized another reason they may have been hurrying away. Gandhi was right; I looked awful. My face was red except for the sleep rings beneath my bloodshot eyes. My hair hung in limp, knotted curls. My teeshirt was creased and the dress slacks were wrinkled beyond recognition. Red and grey stubble had sprouted along my jaw overnight. Overall, I looked like the drunk hobos that sometimes hung out in the ER waiting room on cold nights.
Stripping down, I stepped into the showers and let the hot water roll over my body. Added to the caffeine, I finally started to feel coherent again. Not to mention I was definitely smelling better. I must have spilled last night, because I smelled vaguely of stale alcohol. I got a pair of scrub pants from the machines and pulled my cotton shirt back on, examining myself in the mirror again. Much better.
Paranoid that my car would be towed, I walked briskly back to the bar, wincing against the burning sunlight that was doing nothing more my headache. Thankfully my Porsche was still sitting in the car park, which was mostly empty this time of day, and I drove her back to the hospital. After reclaiming my sacred parking spot, I made my way to Coffeebucks and growled my way to the front of the line, without much trouble since I'm sure I still looked a bit like a madman, and ordered two large coffees. Styrofoam cups of god's gift to doctors in hand, I returned to Newbie's room. I'd been gone for over an hour; something had to have changed by now, I thought without much real hope. When I got there, Gandhi had filled my chair and I stopped in the doorway to listen as he talked to his still inanimate best friend.
"And dude, I hope you come to soon or, swear to God, Elliot's gonna explode. You should have heard her when Carla called her last night. She did that thing where her voice gets so high-pitched you can't really hear it but your ears feel it. I thought my ears were bleeding and I wasn't even on the phone. I guess she called in sick today. Carla's over with her now."
"Oh good," I said, finally stepping into the room. I didn't want to hear anymore about Newbie's grief stricken gal pals and their fears that their fabulous leader had been dethroned for good. "You stayed like a good boy." Gandhi just turned to look at me. "Here," I grunted, thrusting one of the coffee cups at him. He eyed it suspiciously and I gave a wry laugh. "It's not poisoned, Gandhi, it's to replace the one you gave me."
At this his expression relaxed and he accepted it. "Sugar free?" he asked, sniffing it.
"You think I want your wife going crazy Latina on my ass for messing with your precious blood sugar level?" I retorted sarcastically and he laughed into his coffee. "No thanks, I deal with enough crazy women already, between Jordan and Suzy here, no need for more."
"Thanks," Gandhi said gratefully, although whether it was gratitude at the coffee or for not pissing off his wildly temperamental wife I wasn't sure. I felt his eyes on my back as I left the room again but I ignored it as I walked to the near empty nurses' station and stole one of the rolling office chairs. The scalpel jockey was, for some odd reason that I probably didn't want to know, grinning as I pushed the pilfered chair into the room and around to the opposite side of the bed. We said nothing to each other as I situated myself, propping my feet on the metal rail that edged the bed and angling where I could watch the machines that surrounded the head of the bed.
"So," I said, drawing out the word while I tried to think of something to say. "Carla tell you?"
"No, the Todd," Gandhi admitted with a grimace. I understood the pain; that idiot was not the best at breaking bad news. I had always pitied the families of people he killed in surgery. "I was supposed to go up and see JD after I got done with Trawel's heart valve replacement, but I was on-call and kept getting sent off to do other stuff. About midnight I got up there and his room was empty. Todd was walking by and told me what happened. He'd been part of the surgery."
"I don't remember you coming in last night," I said.
"I didn't," Gandhi said and shifted uncomfortably. "I came by but you were already here and you looked pretty, uh, preoccupied."
I worked hard to keep my expression impassive while I sipped at my coffee. A lot of the details of the previous night were hazy, but the fact that I had been holding conversation with a person only I could see was crystal clear. And the realization that I had forgotten to close the blinds only just came to me. God, I hope he assumed I was talking to myself or, at worst, to Newbie. "You shoulda come in anyway," I said and shrugged. "Cami here is your girlfriend after all."
Gandhi rolled his eyes. "Girl jokes still?"
"Always," I insisted and turned my attention fully to my coffee, which was now only luke-warm. We sat in an easy quiet, punctuated by beeping and whirring machinery and the natural hum of the hospital beyond the door, long enough for me to finish my glorious cup of energy.
Gandhi watched the cup sail across the room and into the garbage bin in the corner, giving a small nod to acknowledge my great shot. Can't let him forget I'm still better than him at basketball, even if I am playing nice for now. He looked thoughtful and chewed at his lower lip for a second. "So, that idiot intern - ?"
"Was treated for a broken nose after being fired," I answered the unfinished question with just a hint of pride coming out. To my surprise, Gandhi smiled at this.
"Good," he said and then tossed his own coffee cup to join my own in the bin, rebounding it off the wall. "'Though Carla'll probably have something to say 'bout that when she gets in."
"I figured," I said without much concern. "It was worth it."
"He's just lucky I wasn't there," Gandhi chipped in and crossed his arms on his chest, pulling up the one side of his upper lip like he always did when trying to look tough. I fought the urge to inform him that it made him look like he needed to sneeze.
"Yeah, you'd have avenged your fallen lover, I get it," I said, rolling my eyes. However this triggered a realization. Lover. I needed to let Kim know about this. And at the thought of calling her, I remembered someone else I had yet to call. "Hey, Gumball, you don't happen to have Dan's number, do ya?"
"Dan?" Gandhi repeated, looking confused.
"Yes, Dan," I said in exasperation. "Daniel Dorian, tall, goofy looking, pretty stupid. Snow White here's brother. Ringing any bells in that shiny dome of yours?"
"I know who you're talking about," Gandhi snapped. "I was just wondering why."
"Well, I dunno, maybe I got in touch with my sensitive side and thought I'd invite him out for tea so I could apologize for being such a bully to him, and then we could bond over a day of shoe shopping and mani-pedis," I said with as much sarcasm as I could possibly muster. Counter-productive, but I was too tired to deal with his attitude right now. Gandhi just waited for me to finish and get to my real point. "Or maybe it's 'cause I thought he might need to know that his baby sister here is in the hospital in a coma."
"You haven't told him?" Gandhi asked in disbelief.
"I don't have a number, genius," I answered with a one-shouldered shrug. "That's why I'm asking. Jane only listed you as her emergency contact so I didn't worry. The right person was informed. But then we were sure he'd get better, but now – " I trailed off for a moment and saw the hidden fear on Gandhi's face emerge in my pause. "Now I just think he should know. In case."
Gandhi's face was all grim lines as he nodded. "I don't have it but I'll call Carla. She can swing by JD's apartment on her way here later and see if she can find it."
After he made his phone call we sank back into silence. Unlike the first time though, this one was tense with the foreboding thought I'd brought up. There was no denying that the 'what if' factor was a lot higher this time. A whole swarm of questions and facts were filling my head, but one more so than all the others.
What if he didn't recover this time?
All of the dark possibilities that had occurred to me the night before seemed so much sharper and more menacing now. Last night's shock, which had acted like a sort of foggy barrier that softened the truth, was gone. I was now being forced to stand face-to-face with the odds that were telling me that it was very likely Newbie wasn't going to come out of this one. That I might have said my last words to him. Heard his whiny voice for the last time. Brushed aside his final pleas for my affection. That I might never again be able to walk around these halls with him tailing me, begging me to go to lunch with him or let him come over and watch a hockey game he'd never understand, or just wanting my approval. Just wanting me to affirm what he already knew, that he was a good doctor and I was proud of him and what he'd become.
A few minutes of brooding on this finally got the best of me. Standing up so quickly that my chair rolled back against the wall and rebounded enough to hit the backs of my knees again, I wordlessly left the room.