Outlier, Chapter 11
Previously in Outlier: Luke is in the hospital with a condition that, among other things, caused him to hallucinate a détente with Reid. Also, to kiss Reid’s hand, causing Reid finally to finalize the results of his self-investigation. Reid then reluctantly broke the news to an unexpectedly relieved Katie, who brimmed with unsolicited advice and theories. Reid escaped to the hospital to sleep in his office. (But really to be near Luke.)
Chapter 11
Every step hurt.
Reid rubbed his neck as he strode down the hall, powering through the pain. He couldn’t remember the last time sleeping on a sofa had left him so sore. An awkward angle, no doubt; certainly not advancing age, though he’d been a resident last time he’d slept in a hospital for so many (consecutive) hours. Truth be told, he also couldn’t remember any sleep - anywhere - having been so deep. Or so dreamless. He’d answered the phone that morning with a just-awoken alertness that, for once, hadn’t had to be summoned. As he passed the walls of windows flanking the elevator bank, he noticed, for the first time, the world outside. Trees were less bare than he would have guessed, had trees ever been candidates for consideration. Neither was the sky quite the expected shade, but rather startlingly saturated, caricatures of clouds fluffing the corners. As he crossed corridors and stairwells, he catalogued sounds: elevator dings, rolling-cart squeaks, humming lights, tearing packages, nurse chatter - all registered but not dwelled upon. For the first time, the extraneous was no longer resented. His awareness was less restricted, more expansive. As if he no longer needed blinders to win the race.
None of this, of course, had anything to do with the fact that he was on his way to see Luke. Who, according to the aforementioned phone call, was now awake.
“Oliver.”
His steps maintained their brisk beat as Reid passed the sneer’s source. His voice in response was nearly lyrical with bonhomie. “Good morning, Chris.” Rounding the final corner, he noted a correlation between Chris’s more-dumbfounded-than-usual reaction and the alleviation of Reid’s remaining pain.
He slowed as he traveled the homestretch, however, his strides shortening. He felt the familiar pull and familiar fear. Though less fear of the unknown - not that his situation was any less terrifying, just slightly less fuzzy. Because Reid had a plan. It was simple, as plans went, which belied the sea change it represented, the upending of continents, the reversal of the Earth’s poles. He’d crossed the Pacific in pursuit of it; he’d tracked the Sahara from edge to expanding edge. He’d arrived at the limits of the known world, to the precipice where the next step could drop him into nothingness or, just as likely, past sharp teeth into a smoking, smirking mouth. But all roads had led here, and though there be dragons beyond, there be Luke, too. And at the moment Reid was feeling fireproof. Because he had a plan.
He was going to ask Luke Snyder out.
On a date.
Don’t over-think. There is no alternative. You’ve tried every iteration, the results always the same: you need the kid in your life. And logic dictates that it has to be in a romantic capacity. So get it done.
Which, according to Katie, meant asking Luke out. And though he wasn’t ready to buy all of her crackpottery, there were several tasteful pieces he was willing to consider finding space for in his newly remodeled being. One in particular, in fact, he had already committed to. Because the decision had been made - the foundation laid, the floor plan accepted. Reid was, at last, ready to move onto phase two of the renovation, and, as with all previous projects, he was set to act with maximum purpose and efficiency. He’d finally achieved some level of comfort - goal-oriented just happened to be his middle name. There was no need to wait. Well, no more than a day at most - he was confident that Luke would be soon no longer be his patient.
At which point Reid would execute the plan.
He’d have that appointment-making woman whose voice he was getting closer to recognizing schedule a meeting with Luke for the next day, at the hospital, in Reid’s office. There. Resting clasped hands upon smooth, shining cherry wood, he would lean into his desk and inform Luke that his evening was going to involve several hours spent in Reid’s company. Most likely just one; Reid couldn’t conceive of a dinner in a restaurant lasting beyond an hour. And even that was a stretch - how were they supposed to fill the remaining 45 minutes once the food was gone, what with there being a finite number of desserts on any given menu? Perhaps coffee - did Luke drink coffee? He’d never brought a coffee for himself to the hospital, only for Reid. Had Luke already drunk his? En route? In the coffee shop? (With Noah?)
Reid assumed such details would work themselves out - the primary objective was for the two men to eat dinner together. Followed by subsequent dinners, naturally. Preferably in someone’s home - surely Luke wouldn’t require more than a handful of public meals, such a useless concept, really. Odds were most food would be eaten while watching a televised sporting event or mutually working on laptops. Just as long as they were in the same room. (On the same sofa.) As for after the meals…again, details. The important step had been taken.
The decision. The plan.
Would Luke be surprised, momentarily thrown? Undoubtedly. But Reid had been reassured by Katie’s quick acceptance. Of course Luke would ultimately say yes - he was Dr. Reid Oliver. He’d never had to pursue anyone in his life. Whenever he’d felt the urge, a woman had appeared. No reason for this situation to be any different. He was still the center of the universe, after all - that hadn’t changed. There needed only be slight realignment - for all orbiting bodies to shift accordingly. To make room for his new moon.
Reid had arrived at Luke’s door; it was open. He stopped, his foot stilling on the threshold. He saw the halfway-drawn curtain, beyond it a bed, an outline of a white-sheeted foot, a leg.
Luke.
Reid took the final step into the room. Closing the door behind him, he moved toward the bed with purpose, to where Luke lay leaning, semi-upright, against the elevated mattress, a rolling overbed table suspending a food tray above his lap. Luke’s eyes were closed.
Impatience, anxiety, uncertainty - Reid could feel them effervescing from his flesh. Luke was still too small, too pale, too mortal, but his presence did powerful things. Once again, Reid fought the insane impulse to cover Luke with his body. He settled on stepping closer, until his thighs brushed the bed, his eyes following familiar lines. They landed on Luke’s chart. He reached for it, tension rebounding, radiating from chest to stiffening arm - and then retreating as his eyes scanned low numbers and reassuring words. He’d been right. He wouldn’t lose Luke yet.
Now he just had to get him.
He continued to watch Luke sleep, taking in still features and shallow breaths. He supposed he couldn’t remain in the room indefinitely - certainly sitting in the chair would be hard to explain should Luke wake or a nurse enter. Good thing Reid was a professional stander. He could remain motionless indefinitely, holding Luke’s chart, his rounds still hours away...
Luke breathed a soft sound, his head turning toward Reid. Reid’s own breath flash froze, as if in carbonite. It hung in the air, a graceful shimmering arc, suspended in time with the rest of the room.
Luke’s eyes stayed closed.
Reid’s reality resumed, his breath completing its downward path, his eyes falling to Luke’s now slightly open mouth. To his unnaturally red lips. Time warped once again as all focus centered on those lips; he had seen them red, but never like this, so bright against white skin and sheets, the red of a forbidden apple. Reid tried telling himself he was looking with the eyes of a diagnostician, but there was little point - by now the curtain had been pulled back too far for him to forget what he’d seen. And the answer was found all too quickly: a lopsided lollipop lay on the tray beside the untouched food. Reid’s lips quirked; of course Luke would have had little trouble charming a nurse into slipping him candy from Peds.
Yes, thank you for reminding me that not only are you a man, you’re a boy.
Luke’s tongue emerged, wetting his lower lip in his semi-sleep. Reid’s mind was caught in the space between Luke’s lips, in the faint eddies of flowing breath. It remembered the softness, the warmth. It wondered…if he could…when the time came…
Reid swallowed. He dragged his eyes away, up, almost off - stopping on Luke’s brow. Sweat-darkened hair obscured it. A familiar urge emerged.
He was tired of fighting it.
For the first time, he acknowledged that the twitch of his fingers signaled a desire to push back the hair, to smooth and soothe. He glanced back at the closed door, ears training on faint sounds. He lifted his hand. It pushed through the air as if water, fingers first, generating only faint ripples as it glided downward, surgically steady. It stopped at the force field generated by the heat of Luke’s skin, Reid’s fingers hovering, inches high. They twitched. On a breath, Reid pushed through. Fingers landed on flesh. With minuscule movements, he pressed upward, the tips tangling in wet silk, moving it over deceptively delicate bone, across startlingly soft skin. Reid took another breath.
Luke’s eyes opened.
Reid retracted his hand, his arm, stepped back.
Luke blinked, focusing. On Reid. Eyes lit like dawn breaking through mist. Red lips began to curve.
Then, suddenly, sunset - the light dimmed, shutters closed. Luke pressed his head back against the pillow. “Dr…” He cleared his throat. “Dr. Oliver.”
Reid blinked, feeling his way through the dark. He realized he hadn’t changed his clothes. “And how many Dr. Olivers do we see this morning?”
An almost-smile. “Just one.”
“But more than enough, right?”
Luke looked down at the food tray. He missed the flash frown on Reid’s face.
Reid gripped his penlight, squeezing it as he illuminated the darkness of Luke’s eyes. “Tell me how you feel.”
Luke looked away once Reid was done. “Fine.”
“And if you were to answer again without choosing the most useless word in the dictionary?”
Luke looked back, briefly. The attempted smile appeared genuine. “Better.”
Reid grunted. “Any weakness?”
“Just a little tired.”
“Headache? Nausea? Any new symptoms?”
Luke’s only responses were head shakes.
Reid tilted his chin down, toward the tray. “You haven’t touched your food.”
Luke’s eyes followed. “Would you eat this?”
It took Reid a moment to realize the question was serious. “There’s still so much you don’t know about me,” he chided, lips twitching upward.
They collapsed as Luke’s head jerked backward.
Too soon. Shut it down.
Reid pretended to look through Luke’s chart. “Blood pressure’s down. If you continue to look this good I’ll be able to let you go tomorrow.” Yes, just like that. Bonehead.
Luke picked up the red lollipop and, watching it, turned it slowly between his thumb and index finger. “Actually, I…I’m kind of surprised you’re here. Ali said that a neurologist would've usually taken over by now. I mean, since there wasn’t any cutting.” He set the candy carefully on top of a covered dish of dark brown pudding. “She said I shouldn’t expect you to be back.”
Reid was cornered by several emotions. “Who is this Ali and why was she talking to you?”
Luke looked up. “Alison. Alison Stewart? She’s a nurse here? Well, an aide. And she’s been working here for a while now.”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to know their names. Or that they were allowed to talk.”
“Well, she also happens to be a good friend.”
“Then she shouldn’t be your nurse.”
Luke’s red lips fell open.
“Rules exist for a reason, Luke. Pre-existing relationships muddy the water, make it easier to miss something. She’s not focused on you if she’s recounting the latest romantic shenanigans. Or second-guessing me.”
“She wasn’t… She cares about me. Are you honestly saying that’s a bad thing? To see a friendly face when you’re sick?”
“That’s what visiting hours are for. And I hadn’t realized you were in danger of running low on friendly faces.”
Red lips formed a thin line. “Oh, I see - so it’s only the people actually treating you who shouldn’t care about you.”
“The only caring going on should be medical.”
“Well, then I guess that means there’s no one you couldn’t treat.”
Reid’s fingers clenched around the chart still in his hands. He tried to hear beyond the mumbled words, to see into Luke’s downward-cast eyes. The darkness was disorienting. Reid searched slick walls for a way to climb out of the hole he’d unexpectedly tumbled into.
Luke lifted a finger to the clear plastic pudding cover. He pressed the edge of his nail against its soft give. “I thought I might’ve…” The rest of the words didn’t made it out of his mouth.
“What?”
Luke shook his head. “I wasn’t sure…” He lifted his eyes. “You called me Luke. I was afraid… I wondered if I’d hallucinated that.”
Reid tried to anchor himself in Luke’s dark depths. “Nope, that one actually happened. There is the occasional upside to being treated by me.”
Luke’s eyes quickly lowered again. “Yeah, I…” He put his hands in his lap beneath the table. “I suppose I should… Thank you…for saving my life.”
“You know, you’d think it gets old, but it really never does.”
Luke raised his head. A shutter cracked open. “What, being the hero?”
“Being right.”
Luke smiled, closed-mouthed, but with a guest appearance from a dimple. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I already knew that about you.”
Reid’s eyes returned the smile. He’d found a foothold.
Luke’s dimple disappeared. “But other things… I’m…I’m still not quite sure what was…what was real. I mean, I know you said…everything before…that we…” He ran a finger the length of the lollipop’s white stem. “But then even yesterday - things are kind of…fuzzy.”
“Trust me, the brain doesn’t let you remember seizures for a reason.”
“Right. Yeah. So, I really… Like, eyes-rolling-back, don’t-let-him-swallow-his-tongue…”
“You put on quite the impressive show.” (wrecked body, wet sheets) “But then again I suspect you rarely give anything less than your all.”
“You mean I can be dramatic.”
Reid shrugged. “You commit.”
“Gee, thanks. Still, I can’t even imagine what I must’ve…that you had to see me…” Once again, Luke’s attention was directed downward. “But even afterward…not everything is…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I might’ve said or done… I wasn’t quite feeling…”
“No worries - you were a happy drunk.”
Luke’s pale face lost the rest of its blood, his voice almost all of its air. “What?”
Fuck. “Yeah…that…wasn’t…what I meant to…” Reid fingered the hair at the top of his head. “Your, uh, post-seizure period was characterized by a…an entirely benign euphoria. There was nothing, uh…you were no trouble.
“Oh. Right. Okay. But…are you sure that I didn’t do anything…embarrassing? Or…”
“Huh? No. No. I mean, well…no. I mean, there was the…you did… Just a…small…” Reid raised his left arm absently, the hand flicking back and forth. “You…kissed my hand.”
In the elastic silence that followed, Reid struggled not to look at Luke. He hadn’t meant to say anything.
He didn’t want to know.
He failed. Of course he did - there was no not looking at Luke. Luke’s draw was absolute - Reid’s eyes could stay away no better than the rest of his body could. And so Reid looked.
And saw Luke’s widened eyes on Reid’s left hand where it hung bonelessly at his hip. Saw the sides of Luke’s lips angle up.
Heard Luke’s brightened voice: “Wow. Now that I definitely don’t remember. Well, you certainly don’t have anything to worry about - even if you were the last man in Oakdale you’d be safe from my advances. Trust me, you’re pretty much the opposite of my type.” Luke’s easy smile lightened his face.
Reid’s vision darkened. The edges vignetted, the corners closing in, creeping slowly, smothering his sight. The foothold began to give way.
And then the floodlights came on. Luke’s wattage suddenly dazzled, all apertures opening as he sat up, beaming. Reid blinked at the radiance.
“Noah!”
Reid turned toward the door, following Luke’s focus. Noah was crossing the room, body tilted forward, face creased. Reid reflexively stepped back as Noah reached them, watched silently as Noah rolled aside the food table and sat on the edge of Luke’s bed, his hands gently resting on Luke’s forearms.
“I just heard,” said Noah softly, his eyes sharp with crystallized concern. “When you didn’t come when I was released… I had no idea.” His large hands moved over Luke’s bare arms. “It kills me that you had to…that I wasn’t here for you.”
“You’re here now.” Luke’s smile was beatific. Reid slipped farther down, farther away. Felt the pull of the underworld.
“And trust that I am never leaving your side again.” Noah cupped the side of Luke’s face, moving his hand up, across Luke’s brow, pushing back damp hair. Luke leaned in, his eyes closing.
Reid took another step back. His visual field was almost completely obscured, the scene in front of him barely a pinprick. It was still too much.
“Dr. Oliver?”
Reid didn’t turn back as he walked out of the room, didn’t slow. Didn’t notice he was still holding Luke’s chart. What he did finally notice, as he pulled the door closed behind him, was that every movement, every step, hurt.
Author's Note: Chapter 12 will be posted next Wednesday. (And sorry about the earthquake. I blame Noah.)